𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗻, cedric diggory

˗ˋ 28

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
✧
-: sixth year :-

── IN WHICH THEY PRACTISE FOR THE BALL

. . .

As it turned out, Fred, George and Rosie would never end up trying out the products that day. This was because just after lunch, the whole of the upper Gryffindor house - well those who had stayed behind - were called into one of the larger, upstairs classrooms. 

"Oh Merlin this is chaos." Rosie announced, as her and the twins stepped inside the room. The classroom had been emptied of all furniture, and the Kersey girl was surprised to find just how much larger the classroom appeared with no furniture. 

And she didn't lie, although the Gryffindor students were seated on opposite sides of rooms, many were shouting and yelling, some of the fourth years and even the third years that would be attending the ball with an older date, had produced a few paper airplanes which were flying around above their heads. 

Headache already forming, Rosie told the twins to go ahead and get them some seats. She wanted to sort out the noise - and luckily, a reason hurried up the corridor just behind her. 

She cleared her throat, closing the door for just a moment. "Oi you lot!" She yelled, and somehow, it was loud enough to get peoples attention. "McGonagall's coming." Rosie said, at a much quieter tone. 

Her words instantly got their attention, and everyone scrambled into a much more organised state. Rosie it was glad that it was McGonagall on her way, rather than anyone else - she tended to never take any bullshit, and she had gotten a powerful reputation for doing so. 

"Afternoon Professor." Rosie grinned, opening the door just before the teacher opened it herself, hand outstretched. McGonagall looked slightly suspicious for a while, stepping into the room, robes swirling behind her. 

She spotted one of the rogue paper airplanes, and flicking her wand towards it, it transfigured into a bird, flying out of the single open window at the end of the room, that let in the cold winter breeze, that kept the room rather cold. 

"Mr McLaggen, would you mind shutting the window?" McGonagall asked the blonde Gryffindor boy, who did it without question. Rosie climbed up next to Fred and George, who had chosen a windowsill to sit on. 

Behind McGonagall, Filch hurried in, beginning to fiddle with the large gramphone. "The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since it's inception." McGonagall started, throwing Filch and the gramaphone a few choice looks before she stepped forward.

"On Christmas day night, we and our guests gather in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity. As representatives of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward, and I mean this literally because the Yule Ball, is first and foremost a dance." McGonagall said. 

Whilst this wasn't really a shock to most people with brains - a ball had always included dancing - a few students began whispering, as if they hadn't expected this. 

"Silence." McGonagall held up her hands as a few of those whispers turned to angry grumbles and complaints - mostly from the boys. "The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizarding world for nearly ten centuries, I will not have any of you in the course of a single evening besmirching that names by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons."