HP: A Magical Journey

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“What’re you doing here?”

“Daphne.”

Both girls studied each other with observant eyes, scrutinizing. And for once, they didn’t start bickering with each other from the first glance. Ivy wasn’t in the mood to start anything with Daphne. The blonde saw that and thus retrieved the attack instinct they had around each other.

Daphne watched as Ivy stood with her arms folded over the ledge, slightly leaning out as she gazed at the stars shining in the inky sky overhead. It was different for her to see Ivy like this. . . at least it had been a while. . .

“What happened to you?” asked Daphne.

Ivy breathed in before releasing an audible sigh. “I got rejected.”

“Rejected? What do you mean?”

“Rejected as in I got turned down for a date at the Yule Ball.”

Daphne’s face faltered at Ivy’s words. She blinked in surprise as her mouth opened and closed a couple times before she finally could get something out.

“You got turned down?” she said, and a taunt escaped her, “well, it’s not surprising that someone turned you down — not a lot of people can handle that brutish brash nature of yours.”

Daphne pursed her lips as soon as she said that — It was habit; it had been a very long time since Ivy and she had a talk where they didn’t go after each other’s throats. And now, even after her taunt, Ivy didn’t show as much as a twitch in return.

It finally dawned on Daphne that Ivy really was affected by the rejection.

“I’m curious; who turned you down?”

Ivy glanced at Daphne, and it was supposed to be a momentary glance but seeing the look in her made Ivy pause her sight on Daphne. Ivy didn’t like to hide her emotions. As such, she never liked occlumency; the only reason she practiced it was because she knew its importance and wanted to beat Daphne at it. On the other hand, Daphne was a natural at it — she wasn’t a natural occlumence, but the protective mind art came easier to Daphne than most.

They had started learning the art together and even had taken many lessons together (their mothers were close friends). Not once since then had Ivy ever beaten Daphne at a single occlumency activity/task/competition.

But there was one thing in all those times that Ivy had learned about Daphne — eyes were the window to the soul, and Daphne’s eyes tend to give her hidden emotions away.

‘Ah, is that concern I see,’ she thought, noticing the flash in Daphne’s eyes, ‘it’s been a while. . .’

After all, they weren’t always like this.

Ivy looked away from Daphne and once again gazed at the stars. “It was Quinn West.”

The words made Daphne froze. “Q-Quinn. . . you asked Quinn?”

“Yeah,” said Ivy, noticing the crack.

“Why? I mean. . .”

“Why not? He is handsome, well-mannered, fun to hang around, what’s not to like. And I like him enough for it to turn into a pretty great evening. I thought if I could get to attend the ball with someone like him — wouldn’t that be the best?”

“. . .But he rejected you.”

“Yes, he did,” she sighed, “Quinn said he already had a date.”

“What?!”

Ivy turned toward Daphne, fully expecting the reaction; it was why she had told her that.

“Yeah, Quinn already had a date for a couple of days, it seems.”

“I-I see. . . who is it?”

Ivy contemplated for a bit — if she should tell her the answer.

“Fleur Delacour.”

Daphne stilled. . . it was like looking at a picture — the muggle kind. She was so still that for a moment, Ivy doubted if Daphne was breathing or not.

‘She *really* likes him, huh,’ thought the redhead. There was no expression on the blonde’s face, but her eyes betrayed her chaotic emotions.

Ivy turned her back to the ledge and continued to stare at Daphne. It might have been a minute after which Daphne once again spoke.

“Who?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“Who asked? Was it Quinn or that bi— or Delacour?”

Ivy held back a smile threatening to break on her face.

「 Hogwarts’ Ice Queen」 — that’s what they had started to call her. But Ivy knew the truth — Ice Queen was far from accurate when it came to Daphne Greengrass. Sure she was cold, but Ice wasn’t the correct representation for it.

‘More like cooled of magma turning into rock. A layer of rock that hid the blazen magma inside. . . that’s more like it.’

There was no doubt that Daphne Greengrass was calm, cool(cold), and collected. Brutally logical when needed, but that wasn’t the complete her. The other side was only known to people who knew Daphne from her childhood days — people like Ivy Potter, Harry Potter, Tracey Davis, Draco Malfoy, and a few others outside her family.

Those people knew and had seen the passionate emotions that run deep within the surface, coursing like molten magma, only emerging when the inherently steady Daphne was agitated — when her feelings swung to extremes; that was when the other side showed.

“I don’t know,” said Ivy, “he told me that he was going to attend with Fleur Delacour. He didn’t mention who asked who out.”

Daphne’s dainty hands clutched into fists as her eyes narrowed. If she knew this was going to happen, she would’ve gone asked Quinn out the second the ball was announced. . . of course she didn’t. Daphne thought that she knew Quinn quite well — the fifth-year boy had many “casual friends” and even more “acquaintance,” but what he didn’t have many were “close friends” and “intimate friends.”

If one were to ask to name Quinn West’s intimate friends, then ninety-nine out of hundred people would take three names: Eddie Carmichael, Marcus Belby, and Luna Lovegood. These were three people with whom Quinn held a commitment to the development of each other’s characters, the mutual responsibility of utmost faith and trust, and a connection that ran soul deep in the non-magical sense. They were his closest confidants and whom he had bonded with over his and their vulnerabilities to reach the highest level of friendship.

As much as Daphne wanted to be at that level, she wasn’t there. . . yet. But she was sure that she was Quinn’s close friend. Not only had they both invested in each other personally, but also emotionally. Because of the level of investment, close friends have shared more information. They are aware and familiar with each other’s family members and private life. Also, they both know and help each other accomplish their life goals, hence emphasizing emotional investment.

And Daphne was confident that she was the “closest” close friend Quinn had. More importantly, she was one of the few girls in that category.

Luna Lovegood wasn’t a threat — as close as the girl was to Quinn and vice-versa, they were more of a brother-sister duo. ‘And she is going with Marcus Belby,’ she thought.

Then there was her own best friend, Tracey Davies. Sometimes, Daphne felt envious, jealous of Tracey. She and Quinn had clicked the moment they had met. The two constantly joked around every time they met and seemed to have the time of their lives. They went even as far as matching their sentences with each other. The only thing that relieved Daphne was that she had asked Tracey if she liked Quinn and Tracey refused.

Her own sister was annoyingly close to Quinn. Whenever Quinn was in the vicinity, Astoria would run over towards him and glomp him as if he was a treat. It annoyed Daphne to the limit, but Astoria continued to do it, and Quinn allowed it. This year, Quinn had been so busy that he hadn’t talked to her for a month and only met her because he needed to treat Astoria — which she was grateful for (don’t judge.)

Finally, there was the new girl Fleur Delacour. Ah, how much she hated the French hussy. She just swept in like it was nothing, all giggly with Quinn, who seemed to be lapping it up. It took her such a long time for Quinn to use her first name. But she(Fleur) with her ‘please call me Fleur’ made him say it in months!

But Daphne was sure that if Quinn was going to ask a girl out, then it would be her. Especially after Quinn had asked for her help to communicate with the quidditch team — every day, she would arrive at the AID office to give her daily report, and after that, both would walk to the Great hall for dinner, talking about everything and anything.

They were having fun these days. So when the ball was introduced, she patiently waited. She was raised to think that the boy was supposed to ask the girl out and not the other way around. Her confidence increased with every girl Quinn rejected.

But here she was hearing from Ivy Potter of all people that Quinn already had a date — a date with Fleur Delacour. If she knew this would happen, she would’ve trashed what she had been taught and asked Quinn instead of waiting for it to happen the other way round.

Ivy continued to watch Daphne. She could only imagine what was going in her head — well, she could. . . she had seen it too many times.

“You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”

Daphne’s eyes snapped towards Ivy. “What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t. . . why don’t you explain it to me so I can understand.”

“Oh-okay, you know how you used to do those stupid things when we were little,” scoffed Ivy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” denied Daphne.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but that isn’t going to make things any less true.”

Daphne simply shrugged in response, deciding to end this conversation.

‘Ah, she calmed down; that was fast,’ thought Ivy, and it was a sign that the conversation was over. ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

Ivy walked pushed herself away from the ledge, ready to leave. As she walked past Daphne, Ivy stopped.

Daphne glanced to her side at Ivy, waiting for her to say something, but the redhead gave her a fleeting glance before walking away while humming a tune.

‘She’s annoying,’ thought Daphne and started her way towards the Slytherin common room. She had to talk to Tracey about this; Tracey would know what to do with this.

As Daphne reached the corridor just beyond the common room entrance, she heard.

“Daphne?”

The girl turned, and her eyes flashed with recognition.

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On the whole, Harry had to admit that even with the slightly intimidating prospect of opening the ball before him, life had definitely improved since he had got through the first task. He wasn’t attracting nearly as much unpleasantness in the corridors anymore, which he suspected had a lot to do with his performance; the people who wore ‘Support the Champions’ lapel badges finally had smiles on their faces when they looked at him.

If he had to complain, it would be about Rita Skeeter’s articles and Draco Malfoy’s whispers subtly supporting them in the Hogwarts rumor mill. Malfoy might not show his displeasure outwards in public, but that didn’t stop him from continuing in the back, where it wasn’t visible to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

The last week had become increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though Harry didn’t believe half of them — for instance, that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. However, it seemed to be a fact that he had booked the Weird Sisters — something everyone who had grown up listening to the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) felt wildly excited about having the famous musical group at the ball.

Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lesson on Wednesday and spent most of it talking to Harry about the perfect Carpe Retractum Charm Harry had used during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, for example, from plowing on through his notes on goblin rebellions — as Binns hadn’t let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, they supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn’t going to put him off. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as dull as Percy’s cauldron-bottom report.

Professors McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes too (McGonagall would let her hair down on and before the quidditch game day), and Snape, of course, would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Harry. Staring nastily around at them all, he informed them that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.

“Evil, he is,” Ron said bitterly in the Gryffindor common room, “springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying”

“Mmm . . . you’re not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?” said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack — a much more exciting pastime than with non-magical cards because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second.

“It’s almost Christmas, Hermione,” said Ivy lazily; he was rereading Historical Witches Throughout The Ages for the tenth time in an armchair near the fire.

“No, it’s not; there’s still ten days remaining.”

“. . . That’s almost Christmas, Hermione.”

Hermione sighed before looking at Harry severely. “I’d have thought you’d be doing something constructive, Harry, even if you don’t want to learn your antidotes!”

“Like what?” asked the fourth champion.

“The egg!”

“Come on, Hermione, he’s got till February the twenty-fourth,” said Ron, setting the cards.

“But it might take weeks to work it out! You’re going to look a real idiot if everyone else knows what the next task is and you don’t!”

“Leave him alone; he’s earned a bit of a break.”

And the arguing between the two opposites begun.

Harry, who was doing nothing, stared at them — well, he stared at Hermione for the most part. He had been part of such arguments with Hermione an n-number of times. In the past, he always thought of them to be oh-so annoying, having to answer about any “fun” he had.

‘Ah, the fun, huh,’ thought Harry, ‘those things aren’t that fun now, are they?’

The day his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, all those little fun things were thrown out of his mind and life — he didn’t have time for goofing around. And with that went away his and Hermione’s bickering.

Then he saw it.

The constant taunts and gibes weren’t out of spite but out of concern. That concern showed in earnest when he was struggling with a sudden crisis.

Suddenly, her voice — gentle, not irritating; her words — soothing, not cutting; her gaze — worried, not mocking. It was a brand new Hermione, a Hermione he liked.

“Hermione,” he said. Harry Potter wasn’t one to be shy.

The girl got in a gibe before looking at Harry. “Yes, what is it?”

“Will you go to the Ball with me?”

The group went silent, and the common room became attentive. Everyone watched in a complete hush as Harry gazed at Hermione, who stared back at him with a stunned and surprised face.

Ivy, who had been laying down in an armchair, her feet dangling off the sides, instantly sat up while Ron’s hand holding cards stilled mid-air as he stared at his two friends.

“Are you serious? This isn’t a prank,” asked the smartest-witch-of-her-age.

“Yes, I’m not serious, and this isn’t a prank,” answered the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Why me?”

“You know me,” said ‘Harry,’ “and I like to think I know you too. . . I would like to take you, who I know, with me to the Ball.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Is that not enough?’

“N-no, it’s enough.”

“So are you. . . ?”

“Yes.”

The room was about to erupt, but Harry spoke up, delaying it a bit.

“I would like you to be a bit more. . . articulate,” he smiled, leaning forward.

“Don’t push it, Potter.”

‘I’m a Potter too,’ thought a redhead, but she stayed quiet.

“Please, I insist,” asked Harry, using one word he had picked up from an old man who loved socks.

The brunette with wavy hair pushed one side behind her ear. “Okay, if you want it that much. . . I accept your offer; I’ll go with you to the Ball. It’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

Now the crowd erupted — cheers and hoots, the complete package. Everyone surrounded the champion and his date — festivity ensured.

Ronald Weasley looked to his side; he still didn’t have a date.

“So. . . Ivy, should we go together?”

The reply came quick. “No, thank you, Ron. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, come on!”

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Quinn West – MC – “Uhm. . . hey, I guess. See you next time.”

Ivy Potter – Rival #1 – Got rejected. Now feels a little better.

Daphne Greengrass – Rival #2 – Missed her chance. Isn’t feeling good.

Harry Potter – Protagonist (A/N: Pfft!) – Well, I got a date for the party. How about you guys? Yes, I’m asking you.

Hermione Granger – Still a champion’s date – Oh boy, she’s going in the lake again.

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