isn't the yule ball next year?
The moment they returned from Hogsmeade, the air felt off. There was a tension in the halls, whispers passing between students like wildfire. Something had happened.
Then, Harry saw the crowd gathering near the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
“What’s going on?” he asked, pushing through the students, Draco and Hermione at his side.
Ron, standing near the front, turned to him, looking pale. “He got in.”
Harry’s stomach dropped. “What?”
Ron pointed at the fat, tattered painting that used to hold the Fat Lady. The frame was slashed apart, pieces of oil-stained canvas still clinging to it. Peeves was cackling in the background, gleefully announcing, “The dog’s out! The dog’s out!”
“Sirius Black,” Hermione whispered, gripping Harry’s sleeve. “He was here.”
Draco’s eyes were locked on the destruction, his jaw tight. “If he’s already breaking into the castle, it means he’s getting closer.”
Professor McGonagall appeared moments later, looking furious and concerned. Students were rushed into the Great Hall for safety while the professors searched the castle. Harry was left sitting between Draco and Ron, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs.
Sirius Black was after him.
Draco noticed Harry’s clenched fists and nudged him. “Hey.”
Harry glanced at him.
Draco’s voice softened. “You’re not alone in this.”
Harry took a deep breath, the weight of Draco’s words settling over him like a shield.
That night, while everyone was forced to sleep in the Great Hall, Draco tossed and turned. His dreams weren’t dreams. They were visions.
Flashes of darkness. Cold stone. The distant sound of laughter—not the happy kind, but mocking, cruel. A shadowed figure, eyes glinting in the dim light. And Harry—standing before it, his wand trembling slightly, his expression set.
“Don’t turn around,” the voice whispered.
Then, pain. Fire. The feeling of being trapped.
Draco shot awake, gasping for breath. His whole body felt like ice.
Beside him, Blaise blinked sleepily. “Mate, what—?”
Draco didn’t answer. He turned his head, searching for Harry, who was curled up a few feet away, sound asleep.
Something bad was coming. Something worse than Sirius Black.
And Draco didn’t know if he could stop it.
The next morning, just as everyone was still reeling from the break-in, Dumbledore decided to make things even stranger.
Standing at the front of the Great Hall, he clapped his hands, his eyes twinkling. “I have wonderful news,” he announced. “To lift spirits in such troubling times, Hogwarts will be hosting a Yule Ball this year!”
A wave of stunned silence passed through the students.
“Wait, why?” Pansy asked bluntly.
“Because,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “It will be fun.”
The hall immediately erupted into chaos.
“Oh, this is going to be brilliant,” Blaise smirked, nudging Draco.
Harry, on the other hand, was horrified. Not because of the ball itself, but because—
“Oh, Merlin,” Will Solace muttered, glancing at the girls already whispering and giggling while glancing at Draco. “Here we go.”
Draco frowned. “What?”
Pansy sighed dramatically. “Draco, you’re, like, stupidly attractive. Obviously girls are going to throw themselves at you for this.”
Draco blinked, looking utterly bewildered. “What—? That’s—no, they—”
“Mate,” Blaise grinned, “just accept it.”
Meanwhile, Harry was suddenly in a very bad mood.
And he didn’t exactly know why.