Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again.

“Okay, okay, we know you’re a girl,” he said. “That do? Will you come now?”

“I’ve already told you!” Hermione said very angrily. “I’m going with someone else!” And she stormed off toward the girls’ dormitories again.

“She’s lying,” said Ron flatly, watching her go.

“She’s not,” said Ginny quietly.

“Who is it then?” said Ron sharply.

“I’m not telling you, it’s her business,” said Ginny.

“Right,” said Ron, who looked extremely put out, “this is getting stupid. Ginny, you can go with Harry, and I’ll just—”

“I can’t,” said Ginny, and she went scarlet too. “I’m going with—with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought… well… I’m not going to be able to go otherwise, I’m not in fourth year.” She looked extremely miserable. “I think I’ll go and have dinner,” she said, and she got up and walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed.

Ron goggled at Harry.

“What’s got into them?” he demanded.

But Harry had just seen Parvati and Lavender come in through the portrait hole. The time had come for drastic action.

“Wait here,” he said to Ron, and he stood up, walked straight up to Parvati, and said, “Parvati? Will you go to the ball with me?”

Parvati went into a fit of giggles. Harry waited for them to subside, his fingers crossed in the pocket of his robes.

“Yes, all right then,” she said finally, blushing furiously.

“Thanks,” said Harry, in relief. “Lavender—will you go with Ron?”

“She’s going with Seamus,” said Parvati, and the pair of them giggled harder than ever.

Harry sighed.

“Can’t you think of anyone who’d go with Ron?” he said, lowering his voice so that Ron wouldn’t hear.

“What about Hermione Granger?” said Parvati.

“She’s going with someone else.”

Parvati looked astonished.

“Ooooh—who?” she said keenly.

Harry shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “So what about Ron?”

“Well…” said Parvati slowly, “I suppose my sister might… Padma, you know… in Ravenclaw. I’ll ask her if you like.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” said Harry. “Let me know, will you?”

And he went back over to Ron, feeling that this ball was a lot more trouble than it was worth, and hoping very much that Padma Patil’s nose was dead center.

THE YULE BALL

Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years had been given for the holidays, Harry was in no mood to work when term ended, and spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying himself as fully as possible along with everyone else. Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had had a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindors had learned to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center, and George confided to Harry that he and Fred were now working on developing something else. Harry made a mental note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred and George in future. He still hadn’t forgotten Dudley and the Ton-Tongue Toffee.

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid’s cabin, while the Durmstrang ship’s portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about.

“It is too ’eavy, all zis ’Ogwarts food,” they heard her saying grumpily as they left the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, keen not to be spotted by Fleur). “I will not fit into my dress robes!”

“Oooh there’s a tragedy,” Hermione snapped as Fleur went out into the entrance hall. “She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn’t she?”

“Hermione—who are you going to the ball with?” said Ron.

He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, “I’m not telling you, you’ll just make fun of me.”

“You’re joking, Weasley!” said Malfoy, behind them. “You’re not telling me someone’s asked that to the ball? Not the long molared Mudblood?”

Harry and Ron both whipped around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy’s shoulder, “Hello, Professor Moody!”

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<== попередня сторінка	\|	наступна сторінка ==>
Ron moaned and put his face in his hands. He kept talking, though the words were barely distinguishable.	\|	Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.

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