Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 270 The Ball, Dance Partner (6000)

Regardless of whether Cassandra, who had devised Operation Canary in her mind, could succeed, Harry felt the chances were slim.

After the first project ended, the school gradually returned to a peaceful life.

The students went to and from get out of class as usual, still discussing the Triwizard Tournament and expressing optimism about Harry's chances of winning, but their enthusiasm gradually faded as time went by.

However, Karkaroff became the most unpopular student at Hogwarts, and in the eyes of a considerable number of people, he was even more disliked than Snape.

Yes, it's Gryffindor and Slytherins.

Gryffindor hates Karkaroff intensely because Harry is not only a champion of Hogwarts, but also a member of Gryffindor.

The reason Slytherins disliked Karkaroff more than Snape was that Snape didn't actually attack them on equal terms.

November passed quietly, and they ushered in the last month of 1994.

December brought strong winds, rain, and snow to Hogwarts. Especially when walking around the castle, one would inevitably be caught in a draft, which made the cold unbearable.

The biting wind felt terrible on our faces, and even the female students had to wear thicker cotton socks to keep up with the cold.

Just like in first grade, Hermione made many jars filled with blue flames in her dormitory and distributed them to her classmates so they could wear them to ward off the cold.

This caused quite a stir. When other people saw the jars, they all came up to ask the students where they came from.

After learning that Hermione had done it, the group of students, who were dizzy from the cold wind, ran to the Great Hall and pleaded with Miss Granger to be merciful and give them a jar.

“We can’t do this for free!” Hermione’s roommate, Lavender Brown, raised her hand, looking every bit the best friend Hermione could be. “It’s going to cost money, five Sickles—”

But five Sickles weren't a huge sum for everyone, and Hermione spent a whole week getting all the orders sorted out.

Of course, the harvest was also good; she received a reward of nearly seventy gallons.

To her surprise, on the last day, a muscular Bulgarian man appeared in front of her.

“Miss,” Krum’s voice was thick with a nasal tone, “I need five of these little jars, and I’ll need to pay one gallon and eight silver siecos, right?”

Hermione looked up, never expecting that the famous Bulgarian Chaser would come to her to make a fire pot.

“Sure, sure,” she said. “But you don’t need to pay. Could I have your autographed photo? Oh, I mean… um…”

She realized halfway through her sentence that it wasn't quite right, but she hesitated because she wanted to get Ron an autographed photo of her idol.

But Krum interpreted her reaction in a different way, and he suddenly realized what was going on. He pulled out an autographed photo from his pocket and exchanged it with Hermione for five fire pots.

Hermione was overjoyed to receive the autographed photo. She immediately left the Great Hall and ran to the Gryffindor common room to find Ron.

"Ron!" she called out as she stepped into the lounge.

"What's wrong?" Ron, who was playing Wizard Chess, looked up and asked.

"Ta-da!" Hermione skipped over to Ron and handed him the autographed photo. "Look what this is!"

"Blood Mother Hell!"

Ron stopped playing chess and took the photo with trembling hands. He stared at it intently, then looked up at Hermione, his eyes filled with disbelief.

Seeing his reaction, the surrounding classmates also curiously gathered around.

"Oh my god!" Lee Jordan exclaimed, "So that's what it was—"

He gripped his throat with excitement; as a die-hard Quidditch fan, how could he not know the significance of Viktor Krum?

"Where did you get this?" the twins asked, one on each side. "It's a signed photo of Viktor Krum, and it looks like a collector's item—this photo is completely different from the ones you see on the market..."

“Well, we sold that little jar, the one that holds the flame,” Hermione explained with a smile. “He was going to pay for it, but then I remembered Ron really liked him, so I asked him if I could get an autographed picture of him…”

"Oh~" the twins said in a strange voice, "So that's how it is—so you did it for little Ronnie, right?"

Hermione's face flushed instantly, as did Ron's, making his freckles even more noticeable.

“You should thank them properly, little Ronnie,” the twins continued teasingly. “They were especially thinking of you—”

Hermione couldn't stand the twins' antics any longer, so she ran away, her face flushed, without a trace.

“You two have gone too far!” Ron said, his voice trembling as he clutched Viktor’s autographed photo.

He was met with good-natured laughter from the common room.

Besides the cold, the most harmful thing to students is the magical creature protection class.

Hagrid constantly supplied Mrs. Maxim's horses with their favorite single malt whisky, and the smell of alcohol wafted from the feed troughs in the corner of the makeshift stable, making the students of the Magical Creatures Protection class a little dizzy.

That's not the point. The point is that Newt has taken a liking to those blast-tailed snails, even though they're a species that shouldn't be found naturally. But Newt is really into them.

“I’m not sure if they’re hibernating,” Hagrid said to Harry and the others inside the hut. “I suggest we try it and see if they want to sleep… We can put them in these boxes…”

“It’s better not to do that. You know they’re ferocious by nature,” Hermione said politely. “Professor Scamander will be back tomorrow. I think you shouldn’t do anything in advance, lest these Blasttails die too…”

This wasn't Hermione saying anything, but rather because of Hagrid's previous actions, most of the Blasttails had died.

If Newt saw this, he would be heartbroken.

Of course, the students were overjoyed, since nobody likes taking care of these strange things, which look disgusting and are indeed disgusting.

“Okay.” Hagrid’s heart skipped a beat when he heard Newt’s name.

Yes, that's right. A lot of innocent snails died due to a previous operational error...

If Newt comes back and sees that there are only a few left, he will definitely be angry.

“If you’re really bored, you could find something else to do,” Ron tentatively changed the subject. “Like taking care of those pegasus? Or maybe going on another date with their owner…”

"Ah, this..." Hagrid hesitated, his large fingers twisting together, his thick eyebrows furrowing, as he stammered, "Is this...is this alright? I mean, leaving you all behind..."

“There’s nothing wrong with that. After all, your situation is more important.” Hermione reached out and patted Hagrid’s arm. “Don’t worry, we all hope you can find your true love. I think Mrs. Maxime is really nice, don’t you think so too?”

"This, this is true..." Hagrid was clearly tempted.

“Yes, after that date—I mean, the one where you went to see the dragon with Mrs. Maxim, did you date her again after that?” Harry asked.

"How did you know I went to see the dragon with Mrs. Maxim?" Hagrid immediately grasped the key point.

“I just know.” Harry didn’t answer at all.

“Sigh.” Hagrid sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I did invite her twice more after that, and she came both times, but… well, you know, I still don’t know how to take things further…”

"Did you ask Sirius?" Harry asked.

“I asked.” Hagrid scratched his head. “Sirius is not in England recently, but he told me not to mention the half-giant thing to her, just treat her as a human who is a bit tall and strong—but I really want to ask this question.”

“Oh, not everyone is willing to admit it, Hagrid.” Hermione patted Hagrid’s shoulder sympathetically. “I think you’re right to listen to Sirius, aren’t you?”

“What if I can’t help myself?” Hagrid asked.

“Then we won’t be able to get Mrs. Maxim to come out anymore,” Hermione said regretfully, spreading her hands.

Hagrid rested his chin on one hand, while unconsciously tapping the table with the other.

After a long pause, he finally made up his mind.

“Great!” he said enthusiastically. “Then it’s decided—I won’t mention anything about giants to her…”

"That's right!" Harry and the others said in unison.

The next day during the Transformation class, they were still discussing this issue in hushed tones.

“I expect you two to pay attention, Weasley and Granger.” Professor McGonagall’s sharp gaze swept over the trio, but she ignored Harry. “The classroom is not a place for you to slack off. If you have anything you haven’t finished talking about, why don’t you stand up on the podium and tell everyone, okay?”

Hermione lowered her head, wishing she could bury it in her skirt.

Being singled out and criticized by a professor is incredibly embarrassing.

“And you, Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said in an extremely serious tone, “I hope you don’t become the rotten apple, understand?”

“I understand, I understand…” Ron was drenched in sweat.

Professor McGonagall once again cast a piercing glance at Ron and Hermione before speaking again.

"I have a few words to say to you all—" she tapped the table, trying to get the class's attention.

"The Christmas Ball is coming soon—it's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament, and a great opportunity for us to socialize with foreign guests… Here's the thing, the ball is only open to students in fourth grade and above—but if you'd like, you can invite a younger student—"

Lavender Brown let out a shrill, silly laugh, and Parvati Petil nudged her hard. Parvati herself was tensing the muscles in her face as she desperately tried to suppress her laughter.

They both turned to look at Harry, their eyes gleaming with longing.

The meaning was clearly—an invitation.

Professor McGonagall ignored them, which Ron found particularly unfair, especially since she had just been scolding him and Hermione.

“Please wear your formal gowns,” Professor McGonagall continued. “The ball will be held in the Great Hall at eight o’clock on Christmas night and will end at midnight. Listen—” Professor McGonagall calmly surveyed the class.

“The Christmas ball certainly gives us the opportunity—well—to let our hair down and relax,” she said dismissively.

Lavender laughed even harder, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle the sound.

Harry knew what was ridiculous: Professor McGonagall's hair was always tied up in a tight little bun, and she never seemed to let it down.

"But that does not mean," Professor McGonagall continued, "that we will relax our expectations of behavior among Hogwarts students. I would be deeply distressed if a Gryffindor student brought the school into disrepute in any way."

The bell rang for the end of get out of class, and as usual, everyone stuffed their books into their backpacks and threw them over their shoulders. The classroom was in a commotion.

Professor McGonagall raised her voice and called out amidst the noise, "Potter—please stay a moment, I have a few words to say to you."

Harry stayed behind, while Hermione and Ron waited for him outside the door.

Professor McGonagall waited until all the students had left before saying, "Potter, warriors all have their partners—"

"What partner?" said Harry.

Professor McGonagall looked at him suspiciously, as if she thought he was joking.

"The partner you took to the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your partner."

Harry was stunned.

A companion for the Christmas ball...a dance partner...

Everyone knows that you can only have one dance partner, but I, Ha, have three girlfriends...

Inviting one of them while ignoring the other two... Papbi would be fine, but Cassandra's jealousy and Vivi's anger might burn him to ashes.

Or... should we not invite anyone?
But Harry knew that they definitely... they definitely knew, especially Vivi, who might call him in a minute...

As he was thinking this, the crystal ball in his arms rang.

Mr. Lemaître has now given the Crystal Ball phone a complete upgrade. Today's Crystal Ball phone is even smaller than a fist, truly achieving portability.

Furthermore, it is also equipped with a sensor-activated feather-like material to prevent it from falling to the ground.

"What's wrong?" Professor McGonagall asked with concern when she noticed that Harry didn't look well.

Harry is now her darling. Not only is he good at Quidditch, but he has also become a champion of Hogwarts representing Gryffindor. He's definitely her favorite son.

Even James back then wasn't this favored in the old lady's eyes—even if he wasn't so mischievous, he still wouldn't have reached Harry's current level.

“Uh, Vivi’s on the phone.” Harry shook the crystal ball.

Professor McGonagall also has one of these, so of course she knows what it is.

"It seems Miss Grindelwald wants to be your dance partner? I think she must know about it."

Professor McGonagall, who knew about Harry's complicated relationship with the three girls, sighed: "Well, you can figure that out yourself, but I need to warn you that there's no precedent for inviting three girls as dance partners at the same time, understand?"

Okay, so that means I can set a precedent.

Harry apologized to Professor McGonagall and answered Vivi's call.

“Harry,” Vivi’s ghostly figure greeted him with a smile. She then saw Professor McGonagall and greeted her in return, “Hello, Professor McGonagall, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Me too, Miss Grindelwald,” Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded.

“Do you have any plans for Christmas, Harry?” Vivi asked. “I’m thinking of inviting you to Vienna so we can spend Christmas together, just like we used to—what do you think?”

Harry was stunned by what Vivi said.

Going to Vienna? What are my plans for Christmas?
Didn't she know about the Christmas ball?

Since that's the case, Harry doesn't plan to tell her yet. After all, he thinks it's better for her to find out later, to give her some leeway.

"I don't know yet, Vivi." He said a little guiltily. "I'll give you an answer in a couple of days, okay? You know I would never refuse to spend a happy Christmas with you, just like we always do."

“Okay, darling.” A strange light flickered in Vivi’s eyes.

After hanging up the phone, Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“I don’t think running away is a good option, Potter.” Professor McGonagall looked at Harry with pity, thinking the boy had some potential to be a scoundrel.

“I just feel like I need time,” Harry sighed. “I need some time to think… to think about how to make things perfect…”

Professor McGonagall glared at him but said nothing.

"Can I choose all three?" Harry looked up and asked Professor McGonagall, clinging to a last glimmer of hope.

However, Professor McGonagall scoffed and casually replied with a "NO."

Harry was genuinely troubled; what should he do?

Regardless of who he chooses, the situation he fears will inevitably arise...

or……

He thought for a moment, then decided to invite Cassandra.

No, no, Vivi would be furious if she knew—and Papi would be upset too…

So, should we invite Papiyas?
That would be even worse. Papbi might be happy, but Vivi and Cassandra might eat them both alive.

Should we invite Vivi?

That might not work either... What if Cassandra completely ignores him because of this?
How to do it?

Harry was gripped by a deep emo; he felt he had never been so emo in his life...

He would rather go back to the arena and challenge a Hungarian wood bee again... no, he would rather challenge ten Hungarian wood bees than get caught up in the dilemma of choosing a dance partner from three women.

Of course, just because he's emo doesn't mean everyone else at school has to be emo with him.

The last week of the semester was increasingly bustling and noisy at school.

Rumors about the Christmas ball were circulating everywhere, but most of them were a bit far-fetched—for example, that Dumbledore bought eight hundred barrels of flavored mead from Rosmerta the Three Broomsticks.

However, it's possible that his reservation about the eccentric sisters is true.

As for who the Strange Sisters really are or what they are, the Muggle-born students have no idea, because they have never heard wizard radio broadcasts, but judging from the excitement of those students who have listened to WWN (Wizard Radio Network) since they were young, the Strange Sisters seem to be a very famous music group.

For example, Hermione was completely clueless about the Strange Sisters, but Ron could excitedly explain to her in detail what the Strange Sisters were, patiently going over them again and again.

Some teachers, like the short Professor Flitwick, seeing that the students were clearly distracted, simply stopped lecturing.

He allowed them to play games during his classes on Wednesdays, while he spent most of his time talking to Harry, discussing the brilliant knockback spell Harry used in the first event of the Triwizard Tournament, and the magic he had never seen before.

Harry, of course, wouldn't hold back; he'd say whatever came to mind.

After learning about ancient magic, Professor Flitwick lost all interest in lecturing and instead kept talking to Harry.

Of course, other professors weren't as easy to talk to as Professor Flitwick. It's easy to imagine that a serious old lady like Professor McGonagall would never be as accommodating to students as the youthful-minded Professor Flitwick.

As for the other one, he was even more of a heavyweight. Professor Snape would rather French kiss James Potter than let his students whisper among themselves in his class.

He gave the class a somber look and told them that he would test their antidote in the last class of the semester.

“He’s really bad,” Ron said angrily in the Gryffindor common room that night, “to test us on the last day—to ruin the last bit of the term with a mountain of homework.”

“Hmm…you weren’t actually working too hard, were you?” Hermione looked at Ron through her Potions class notes.

Ron was busy building castles with his Exploding Cards—a pastime far more fun than Muggle playing cards, where anything he built could explode at any moment if he wasn't careful.

“It’s Christmas, Hermione,” Harry said lazily.

He sat in an armchair by the fireplace, tilting his head back to count the patterns on the ceiling.

The fire was warm and cozy; being able to warm yourself by the fire and drink some tea on a cold winter day was truly the most pleasant experience.

He had almost forgotten about choosing a dance partner; after agonizing over it for so long, all he wanted to do was clear his mind and relax.

Hermione looked at him with a serious expression.

“Harry, I think what you should do right now is to find a dance partner as soon as possible... I know you have a very close relationship with Miss Sweeting and Miss Malfoy, but that is no reason for you to hurt Vivi.”

"I didn't hurt her..."

Harry sighed and said, "Speaking of injuries... Cassandra should have been the one who suffered the most, right?"

Yes, from the very beginning, he and Cassandra were best friends, until Vivi came along...

If she isn't chosen for this ball, she'll probably be heartbroken.

(End of this chapter)