Miss Hogwarts

Miss Hogwarts

Chapter Four
Dancing at Midnight

“I still don’t get it,” Harry said, running a hand through his hair—almost pulling it, even. “Why?”

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny followed him as he stomped his way towards the castle. Ginny brought up the rear, still lugging her backpack bulging with Harry’s dress.

Hermione looked thoughtful, though equally frustrated. “Let’s say they did find out you were joining. Malfoy’d love to win against you. If he can’t beat you in Quidditch, he’d beat you in Miss Hogwarts.”

“But that’s stupid!” Ron countered. “No one from the other Houses know, you said so yourself.”

“We can’t be too sure,” said Harry. He turned to George. “You almost shouted it to the Great Hall the other day.”

George looked at him indignantly. “How would they know I was talking about you?”

“You were sitting a few seats away from me!”

“No, Harry,” said Fred. “It’s ‘cause you’re too obvious.”

Harry whirled around to face Fred. “What do you mean, obvious? Me?”

“Yeah, you are,” George agreed. “There you go, looking grumpy all the time in the corridors—what would the others think, then?”

“I could be grumpy because of anything!”

Harry went into the entrance hall, still fuming. But what he was angry about, it was difficult to point out. Was he angry because the Slytherins found out he was joining, just in time when he could lose all dignity he had, or because he found out Draco Malfoy was joining, too?

Well, joining Miss Hogwarts was one thing—but competing against Malfoy in that contest? Ginny knew Harry would have another go with that Hungarian Horntail instead anytime. But had Ron been right in saying that Malfoy joined as soon as he found out Harry was joining? Was Hermione right—that Malfoy wanted to beat Harry in just about anything?

And how did they find out, really? Well, that was easy. Ginny had her own ideas, but she kept quiet all the while.

“Then look at you now,” Ron nagged on. “And your dress is coming out of your bag! What else is anyone going to think?”

It was true; the hem of the black dress was slung out of Harry’s backpack, and it was so glittery that anyone could notice it. Harry violently shoved it deeper into his bag and zipped it shut. He started to climb the stairs.

“Harry, calm down,” said Hermione. “It isn’t as if Malfoy’s a threat or anything.”

“Oh, but he is, my dear,” George told her. “Like I said, he was pretty in that gown.”

“Then let me tell you, George,” said Ron in a loud, proud voice, “Harry looked pretty in his gown, too.”

Unfortunately, Padma Patil happened to be passing by. Ginny knew that Parvati’s twin had a crush on Ron, and even more unfortunately, she always kept an ear out of whatever Ron was saying.

Ginny saw Padma’s eyes widen. With a suspicious look at Harry, Padma hurried to a group of Ravenclaw fifth-years and whispered something to them excitedly.

And as if luck was mocking Harry, Cho Chang turned her head around to take a good look at him.

Harry looked at Ron exasperatedly. “Nice going, Ron. And you think I’m obvious, huh?”

“You’re obvious in a different way,” Ginny suddenly said.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. Ginny had noted a while ago, in Hogsmeade, that he always did that to her more than what was necessary. Hermione and Ron, meanwhile, looked at her questioningly. For a moment, she reconsidered saying all that she thought—nothing about what she was going to say was fine for Harry Potter, especially an infuriated one.

“You think that?” Harry said, looking incensed.

Something about Harry’s challenging stare made Ginny unable to stop herself. “You’re obvious because everyone expects you to join,” she blurted out.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, not keeping his eyes off her.

Ginny hesitated this time. “Even if—even if they needed to assume otherwise...they’ve already singled you out,” she answered. “Because...you’re Harry.”

Harry’s face became even more threatening. He descended a few steps and stood right in front of her, glaring at them. “So is this why you convinced, even forced me to join? Because you singled me out...because I’m Harry Potter?”

“No!” Ginny yelled. “We chose you because we believe in you!”

“Yeah, right,” Harry spat. He looked fiercely at Hermione and Ron, then at Fred and George—even the twins had nothing to say to him. “This whole Miss Hogwarts idea is nothing but crap. I should’ve realized it before.”

Before anyone else could reply, Harry had made his way up the stairs, stomping loudly.

Ginny’s face fell. Was that Harry actually quitting? She mentally cursed her tongue for wagging itself without restraint. So much for being an assistant, she thought.

“He’s not serious,” Fred stated, still looking up at Harry’s retreating figure.

“How do you know?” asked Ron.

“He still carries his backpack. With the dress in it.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t mind him,” George said confidently. “Mum and Ginny have their days too, once a month. I’d say, Harry’s getting the hang of being a girl a lot better than he thinks....”

Harry turned a corner, finally disappearing from view. “You know, I understand why he’s angry,” Ginny muttered, paying no attention to George. “We did choose him because he’s popular and he’s soft when it comes to orphans, right?”

“We didn’t choose him for those reasons only,” Hermione said sensibly. “But you’re right, the Slytherins must have kept an eye on him as soon as Miss Hogwarts was announced. Two hundred House points is something, after all.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“Even if we do win the Quidditch Cup this year, it’d be hard to keep up with them if they win Miss Hogwarts,” George pointed out. He slowly grinned. “They know Miss Hogwarts is their only chance to win the House Cup—they know they can’t beat us in Quidditch.”

“Very conceited of you, George,” said Ginny witheringly. “Maybe you should start wearing that Bighead Boy badge of Percy’s.”

“And you, kiddo, are terribly funny,” said George, yanking Ginny’s long hair.

Ginny swatted George’s hand away and let out a huge sigh. “Guess I annoyed him even more, huh?”

“Don’t worry, Gin—he’ll calm down soon,” Ron assured her.

“You were right, anyway,” Hermione added. “Harry is Seeker for Gryffindor, he saved the school in our second year”—Ginny couldn’t help but smile a bit as she remembered that moment—“and he became a Hogwarts champion last year. Why wouldn’t he be the Gryffindor candidate for Miss Hogwarts?”

“The poor kid,” Ron said, shaking his head. “Lots of things happen to him, and everyone else expects everything else to happen to him.”

Hermione shook her head too, seconding her pity for their best friend’s inopportune fate. “Listen, we’re not just going to abandon our plans,” she told them all. “Harry will budge, somehow. We’ll continue planning. Ginny, is there anything else you and Harry need?”

“A bearskin rug,” said Fred.

Ginny kicked him hard on the shin. “We’ve got all the dresses. Hair and make-up we can deal with soon, and I’ve begun on planning the talent.”

“Okay. Do you need anyone else to help—back-up dancers, maybe?”

“No, we don’t—oh!” Ginny suddenly clapped a hand on her forehead. “Oh wow, how can I i>forget? He needs a dance partner!”

Fred patted Ginny on her shoulder. “The dance you have in mind—maybe you were picturing yourself and Harry in your head instead.”

“Oh Fred, shut up,” Ginny muttered, making no move to hurt him because, admittedly, her brother was right.

“Hmm...that won’t be too hard,” Hermione said. “I’ll talk to everyone later to see who’ll volunteer.”

“I doubt you’ll have an easy time finding one,” said George. “Convincing Harry was hard enough.”

“Yeah, but the partner doesn’t have to wear some girly wig, right?” Ron asked.

“No,” George replied. “But how would you feel, dancing with someone who wears one?”

Harry couldn’t sleep that night. He lay awake, listening to Neville’s loud snoring and Ron’s indistinct mumbling. Harry thought he heard Ron say, “No, not the library!” and it stumped him how a certain bushy-haired prefect professed herself perfectly in Ron’s dreams.

Harry rolled on his stomach restlessly. Just a few days ago, whenever he thought about Miss Hogwarts, the image of him in blonde curls appeared in his mind. Now, the image was gone—it was somehow replaced by a writhing feeling in the pit of his stomach, as though it finally hit him: he wasn’t just going drag, he was actually competing in a drag contest.

And against Draco Malfoy.

Well. At least it was a lot better than Malfoy watching him make a fool of himself on stage.

But that didn’t comfort Harry at all. That would mean he couldn’t fool around. That would mean he had to...

Win.

Harry bolted upright. How could he win? He didn’t even know how to be a girl! Ron and Ginny had laughed when he tried to pose for that green dress—and he had been serious with that. Feeling more agitated than ever, he got out of bed and, for lack of anything better to do, decided to head downstairs.

But when he opened the door of their room, he heard music. It sounded like something one would hear in discos, but the music was unfamiliar.

Harry quietly crept downstairs. Even as he did, he had a feeling he knew who was playing that song. And then, he heard something else.

“Back, place, front, place, right, place, left, place—”

He was right. It was Ginny—and the weirdest Ginny he had ever seen. In the semi-darkness, with only the small fire in the fireplace to light her up, she was muttering to herself, and dancing. She was holding her hands out as if she had a partner. Fascinated by her antics, he leaned on the railing, watching her.

“Walk, and left, and turn and—eeep!”

Harry jumped back. Ginny was staring at him, red-faced, wide-eyed in shock. “What are you doing here?” she gasped.

“I just...went down...can’t sleep,” Harry managed to say. “What are you doing?”

“Oh. I, um...was doing the dance steps.” She went towards an armchair and picked up her wand. She gave it a flick, and the music stopped.

“I’ve never seen that spell before,” Harry told her. “What’s it called?”

“Recordari,” Ginny replied. “Of course, I had to use WWN. Recorded it last summer.” She cocked her head at him suspiciously. “How long have you been watching?”

Harry grinned sheepishly. “I think I caught you in ‘back, place, front’ or something like that.”

Ginny flopped down on the armchair and sat on her legs. “You’re mean.”

Harry ignored her comment. “Why are you dancing in the middle of the night?” he asked as he sat down on an armchair directly across her.

“The same reason why you were watching me,” she said. “You thought I was weird, didn’t you?”

“Well, I’m not going to lie.”

Ginny, however, didn’t give a sarcastic comment. She merely looked at him and said, “Are you still mad at us?”

Harry, of course, knew what she was talking about. Her words that afternoon had stung, because he had to admit—she was right.

“We didn’t single you out because of who you are, you know,” Ginny said quietly, looking at the fire. “You should have been there when we were choosing the candidate. Believe it or not, you’re everything we thought our candidate should be.”

Harry smiled wryly. “Yeah?”

Ginny nodded. “Fred and George seemed to notice first, and then they made out you should be the candidate. Everyone agreed—like I said, we all believe in what you can do.”

“What can I do?” Harry argued. “It’s not as if you’ve all seen me model around or anything.”

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know about the others, but I think you’re an expert in proving yourself,” she said. Harry frowned in confusion, so she went on. “You face whatever comes your way and do your best. Miss Hogwarts is no exception. Besides,” she added, smiling, “you love competition, don’t you?”

Harry snorted. “Not competition that involves going drag,” he mumbled.

“Not even with Malfoy competing against you?” Ginny asked sweetly.

“Ha ha,” said Harry sarcastically. “You have no idea how it scares the living daylight out of me.”

“So...what?” Ginny asked. “You’re backing out?”

Backing out? With the Slytherins—and Malfoy—already knowing that he’s joining? They’d probably think him a coward. It was like Ginny had said after all—he was a Gryffindor, wasn’t he?

“I’m not backing out,” he finally said. And it surprised him how certain he felt when he spoke.

Harry saw Ginny sigh in relief. “Well,” she breathed, smiling, “that’s good.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way, anyway,” he added, only half-teasing.

Ginny laughed out loud. “Nope,” she said. “You have no other choice.”

“Oh Ginny, how I love you,” Hermione gushed the next morning. “I’ve never known anyone who can talk to him like that!”

Ginny was surprised at herself, too. She had found it hard to sleep last night, after she and Harry went back to their respective dormitories. She had stayed awake for a lont time, thinking about Harry and how casually friendly their conversation was, and how talking to him felt so easy. If she had only known years before that it was like that with Harry, she would have acted as herself around him rather than as that awkward girl who put her elbow in the butterdish. She didn’t sleep until she noticed that the sky outside was turning to the violet hue of dawn.

“I don’t think he meant to back out, really,” she told Hermione. “I just...well, told him that we didn’t single him out for the wrong reasons.”

Hermione nodded. “That’s good. Oh, poor Harry—this whole contest is probably the biggest one he’ll ever face.”

Ron snorted. “You prefects suggested it, mind you.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Ginny. “Hermione, has anyone already approached you, about being Harry’s partner?”

Hermione shook her head. Last night, she had spoken to the Gryffindors about it (without Harry knowing, of course), but they weren’t able to find a suitable partner for him. Fred and George had suggested each other for the most part of the evening until they tired everyone out.

Ginny saw Harry walk into the Great Hall and approach them. His hair was messier than usual, if that was possible, and there were dark rings under his eyes. He took a seat beside Hermione. “Hello, you all,” he mumbled, picking up a toast.

“Harry, you can’t go about looking like that all the time,” Hermione chided him at once.

“Hermione, Miss Hogwarts is three weeks away,” said Harry wearily.

“Yes, but the candidates are meeting today—right after breakfast.”

Harry dropped the toast. Ginny and Ron gaped at Hermione.

“They what?” Ginny asked out loud.

“Cool!” Ron exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Harry, meanwhile, picked up his toast on the table and shoved it into his mouth. He grabbed his goblet and finished its contents in one great gulp. Wiping his lips, he turned to Hermione. “Great. Can’t wait. Where are they?”

Ginny and Ron exchanged bewildered looks.

“W-well...” Hermione looked around her. Betty Sparks was standing up, pulling Justin Finch-Fletchey’s arm as she did. Ernie Macmillian clapped a hand on Justin’s shoulder, grinning widely. Betty looked at Hermione pointedly.

“Right now, I think,” Hermione said, shuffling to her feet. “Come along, Harry.”

“Break a leg, Harriet!” Ron shouted for the Great Hall to hear. The other Gryffindors turned to look at Harry and Hermione—and broke into loud applause. Even Hermione had to grin.

“Harriet,” Ginny mumbled. “Have you decided to start calling him that?”

“Well, he’s got to have a stage name, doesn’t he?”

“Hmm. Good point,” said Ginny. Then, to her great surprise, Harry grinned and waved in a fashion not unlike the wave those mannequins in Gladrags did.

“Oh my,” she heard herself say.

“Where’d he learn to do that?” Ron yelled, but he was still clapping along with the others.

Suddenly, cheers and applause erupted from the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was standing up, looking unnaturally pink.

“Why are drag queens coming mostly from fifth-years?” asked Ginny, looking at Ron suspiciously.

“Look at Ravenclaw,” said Ron, paying no heed to her comment. Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, was standing up, holding both fists high into the air as the Ravenclaws cheered.

“He’s in seventh year, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded. He narrowed his eyes at the Ravenclaw contestant. “He’s a bit beefy, you know—he won’t look good in a gown, the way Harry does.”

“It really depends on the gown,” Ginny told him. Her eyes followed the four contestants exit the Great Hall. She instantly noticed Harry and Malfoy look at each other with utmost loathing.

“It didn’t matter that we found out about Malfoy too soon, after all,” said Ginny thoughtfully. “But you know, I think Harry became more serious about winning Miss Hogwarts when he learned Malfoy is joining.”

“Very much like it is in Quidditch,” Ron affirmed. “Plus two bloody hundred House points.”

“Maybe you should thank Malfoy,” Ginny suggested.

Ron snorted as he resumed attacking his bacon and eggs. “No way,” he said firmly. “I won’t have anything to do with Miss Hogwarts.”

Ginny looked at Ron in surprise. How dare he! His best friend was going drag, Hermione the prefect was busying herself with the contest, and she, Ginny, was Harry’s assistant. And Ron wasn’t doing anything to help?

Wait a minute. A sly grin slowly spread across Ginny’s face as she looked at her brother’s profile. He was tall and slim, and he and Harry got along very well...

Her mind whirling with ideas, Ginny hooked her arm with Ron’s. Ron looked at her skeptically. “What now?” he asked.

“Ron, you’d do anything for your little sister, right?”

“Eh?”

Ginny looked up at him beseechingly. “And you’d do anything for your best friend, right?”

Ron scowled at her. “What are you on about?”

“And you’d do anything for him to win, right?”

Ron stared at her. Then, as if the whole idea suddenly struck him, he pulled his arm out of Ginny’s grip, looking pale and horrified. “No. No, Ginny, I’m not doing it.”

“Oh, come on, Ron, please?”

“NO!” Ron scooted out of Ginny’s reach. “This is not my problem!”

“Please, oh please, Ron, for Harry’s sake, and Hermione will be ever so grateful, please, please, pleeeeease?”

“NO!” Ron yelled again. His eyes were wide as saucers. “I told you, I won’t have anything to do with Miss Hogwarts, Ginny, and that’s final!”

Jenna's Notes: Hah. Of course, we all know Draco MUST be the Slytherin contestant. ;-) And as for Roger Davies, I don't think the books made mention of his exact year in Hogwarts... but if you think otherwise, let me know.
Oh, and I've moved! My site is at http://jenna.bekkis.com now :) Cheers!