In addition to Defence Against the Dark Arts, the fifth years had a Transfiguration class that morning.
The lesson continued their work on the Vanishing Spell, but instead of vanishing an animal like a snail, they now had to vanish a hamster. While it might seem like a small change, the difficulty had increased significantly. Two full lessons had passed, and most students had made little to no progress.
The atmosphere in Transfiguration had grown tense in recent weeks. Students were on edge, dreading the sight of Professor McGonagall’s disappointed expression. This class was no exception.
The room echoed with a cacophony of crackling and popping sounds as students, anxious to succeed, hurried through their attempts. The results were often disastrous. A few students were so flustered that their spells exploded, sending bits of desks flying.
“Everyone, stop for a mont,” Professor McGonagall called sharply, waving her wand to repair a shattered table. “You’re all far too impatient. This approach will only make mastering the Vanishing Spell more difficult. Calm yourselves.”
She surveyed the frazzled group before adding, “Perhaps a bit of news will help ease your tension.”
The room stilled, all eyes on her.
“The Yule Ball is approaching,” she announced. “It’s a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournant and an excellent opportunity to socialize with our foreign guests.”
Her words instantly transford the atmosphere. The nervous energy in the room gave way to excited murmuring. Gryffindor girls who had been near tears monts ago now huddled together, whispering and giggling. So even cast glances—intentional or otherwise—toward Kyle.
Professor McGonagall ignored the chatter and continued. “The ball is open to students in their fourth year and above. However, if you wish, you may choose a younger partner to accompany you."
“It will take place on Christmas Eve at 8:00 p.m. in the Great Hall. Rember to wear your dress robes—it’s a rare chance to unwind and enjoy yourselves.”
More laughter rippled through the class, the announcent clearly lifting everyone’s spirits.
Just then, the bell rang, and the students scrambled to pack up, eager to spread the news. The classroom emptied in monts, but Kyle found himself lingering behind.
“As is customary,” Professor McGonagall said, addressing him directly, “the Yule Ball will be opened by the Champions and their partners. Do you understand what that ans?”
“Of course, Professor,” Kyle replied, glancing toward the door. He noticed Kanna standing by the railing, waiting for him with two books in her hands.
Professor McGonagall’s gaze followed his, and she let out a soft chuckle. “I’m glad you understand. But I must remind you that you’ll need to practice your dancing in the coming weeks."
“As the opening dance sets the tone for the ball, many people will be watching. If you make a ss of it, you’re sure to be the subject of endless gossip.”
Kyle’s face twisted into a peculiar expression.
The problem was...the only dances he knew were not exactly ballroom-appropriate. He had mastered the Mooncalf’s courtship dance—thanks to Newt, who had taught him at age ten—and the Erumpent’s peculiar mating dance.
But neither of those would suit the Yule Ball. There wouldn’t be music for them, and Dumbledore certainly wouldn’t allow him to bring a Mooncalf as a partner.
Noticing his discomfort, Professor McGonagall’s expression shifted. “You don’t know how to dance, do you?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism.
Kyle stiffly nodded.
“Surely your father—” McGonagall began, then stopped, frowning. “Chris never took you to a ball?”
As deputy director of the Departnt for the Control and Managent of Magical Creatures, Chris frequently hosted or attended formal events with foreign wizards. Such occasions were common in his line of work, and family mbers were often invited to attend as well.
It was surprising, then, that Kyle hadn’t learned sothing as basic as ballroom dancing.
“Er... I’ve never been to one,” Kyle admitted.
Chris had always avoided parties whenever possible, only attending when absolutely necessary—and even then, mainly to enjoy the buffet. As for Kyle, he had no interest in such events either. If he had the ti, he’d much rather be in Newt’s suitcase, watching Salamanders battle it out.
“Oh...” Professor McGonagall rubbed her forehead in exasperation.
A champion unable to dance? It wasn’t just a personal embarrassnt for Kyle; it would reflect poorly on Hogwarts as well. Disaster lood unless this problem was addressed imdiately. Thankfully, she had asked about it today.
“You can postpone the rest of your classes for now,” Professor McGonagall declared in a tone that brooked no argunt. “Christmas is only a week away, and in that ti, you must learn to dance—even if it’s just one song.”
She fixed him with a sharp look. “Tomorrow is the weekend. At ten o’clock in the morning, I will hold a dance club in the Great Hall. You will co—no, you must co.”
With that, she strode out of the classroom, likely heading to the eighth floor to confer with Headmaster Dumbledore about this new complication.
Kyle sighed, then followed her out of the room, his expression resigned.
“Professor McGonagall seed really stressed,” Kanna said as she approached, curiosity evident in her voice. “What did you say to her?”
“A serious challenge,” Kyle said wearily. “Far more terrifying than facing two Dragons alone.”
“Huh?” Kanna’s curiosity only deepened.
“Never mind—it’s nothing.” Kyle shook his head, brushing off her question. Then, as if rembering sothing, he glanced at her. “By the way, can I invite you to the Yule Ball? You know, Champions have to open with their dance partners, and I could really use your help."
“Otherwise...” he added with a faint smirk, “I might have to resort to dancing with a Mooncalf. And I don’t think Professor Dumbledore would allow that.”
Kanna tilted her head slightly, her doubts forgotten as she regarded him. “Only you would think of dancing with a Mooncalf,” she teased. “But alright—since you’ve asked, I’d be happy to be your partner.”
“That’s wonderful,” Kyle said, his smile returning.
The two began descending the stairs together, heading toward the common room.
...
anwhile, in the dungeons, Professor Snape was brewing a potion. He reached for a vial of Armadillo bile but, in a mont of distraction, tipped the entire bottle into the cauldron.
The once-bright blue potion turned a dark, bubbling purple.
“Damn it!” Snape muttered. With a quick wave of his wand, he vanished the ruined potion and cleaned the cauldron.
His thoughts imdiately turned to Sirius Black.
Even though Black wasn’t physically present, Snape had no doubt he was sohow to bla. Ever since Sirius’s arrival at Hogwarts, the man had opposed him at every turn.
If Snape deducted points from Gryffindor, Black would retaliate by docking points from Slytherin for the exact sa reasons. Their rivalry had grown so intense that Snape had gone to Dumbledore repeatedly to complain. The sleepless nights caused by this ongoing feud were likely why he’d made such a novice mistake in his potion-making just now.
“Dumbledore must be losing his mind,” Snape grumbled under his breath. “Letting a fool like Black play at being a professor... utterly absurd.”
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