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The Tenth Weasley - CH - 136
🕑 Added 2025-10-18 14:12:01 +0000 UTCThe sun had barely touched the Forbidden Forest when Harry saw the flash of dragon hide near Hagrid’s hut. The pens where the Tournament dragons had been kept were nearly empty now, only claw marks and scorched earth showing where they had once stood.
Charlie Weasley was there, leaning against a post, his familiar dragon-handler coat smelling faintly of smoke and ash. His expression was warm but tinged with melancholy as he looked up and saw his brother approaching.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Harry said with a small grin.
Charlie chuckled. “Where else? I’m saying goodbye to my fire-breathing girls.”
Behind them, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George trudged up the hill, laughing quietly, though the mood shifted when they saw the dragon pens being dismantled. The creatures had been part of Hogwarts for only a short time, but their presence had left scorch marks on memory and stone alike.
Charlie brushed dust from his gloves. “We’re moving them back to Romania tomorrow. Been more than a week since the first task, and the Ministry’s finally decided we’ve ‘overstayed our welcome.’”
Fred grinned. “Translation: too many professors complaining about burnt eyebrows.”
George laughed. “And Hagrid begging to keep one as a pet.”
Charlie smirked. “He actually asked. Nearly gave one of the handlers a heart attack.”
They all laughed, but Harry noticed the heaviness in Charlie’s eyes.
Then Charlie looked at him. “I’m sorry about the situation.”
Harry shook his head. “Don’t be. I didn’t want to hurt her, but it was her or Charlie. I tried not to kill it.”
“I know.” Charlie’s voice was soft but full of understanding. “You did what you had to. She was wild — proud, stubborn. Reminded me of you, actually.”
“Oi,” Ron cut in, pretending to gag. “Don’t say my brother’s like a dragon.”
Charlie laughed. “You’ve never seen him angry, then.”
After a moment of silence, Charlie reached into his bag and pulled out a neatly wrapped parcel of green cloth. “Before I go, I brought something.”
He turned toward Ginny and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked, unwrapping it carefully.
“A dress robe,” Charlie said with a grin. “Figured you might need it. Rumor is, there’s a Yule Ball this year — part of the Tournament celebrations. Thought one of the older boys might ask you to dance.”
Ginny’s cheeks went red instantly. “Charlie!”
Fred snorted. “Our baby sister? At a ball? Merlin help whoever asks her.”
George elbowed him. “Or whoever she hexes if they step on her toes.”
Ginny crossed her arms, glaring. “I can handle myself.”
Harry, however, frowned slightly. “Wait—what ball?”
Charlie turned, surprised. “You didn’t know? The Yule Ball, mate! It’s tradition. Happens every Triwizard Tournament. Fancy dance, proper dress robes, music, the works. Each champion opens the night with a dance.”
Harry blinked. “Dance?”
“Yeah,” Charlie said, grinning at his expression. “Officially. You and your date go first, and everyone watches. So don’t embarrass Hermione.”
Fred and George exploded into laughter.
Hermione wasn’t there to defend herself, but Harry could already imagine her reaction — the lecture, the eye-roll, the ‘we’ll practice until you stop stepping on my feet.’
He groaned. “Brilliant. Another public disaster waiting to happen.”
Charlie clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. You’ve fought a basilisk, a dragon, and half the wizarding world. A dance floor shouldn’t scare you.”
“Clearly you’ve never seen me try to waltz,” Harry muttered.
The group stood together for a while longer, watching the handlers in the distance load the remaining dragons into massive enchanted cages. The great creatures growled and bellowed as their chains shimmered with magic.
Charlie sighed. “Never gets easier, saying goodbye to them. You raise them from hatchlings, then they’re gone before you know it.”
Fred nudged him. “Sounds a bit like having brothers.”
Charlie laughed. “Except my dragons listen better.”
The laughter faded into a comfortable silence. Hagrid emerged from his hut, eyes glistening as he waved toward the handlers. “Tell ‘em goodbye fer me, Charlie! Give Norberta a pat!”
“I will!” Charlie called back, smiling.
When the laughter died down again, Charlie looked around at his family — at Ron’s easy grin, Ginny’s shy smile, Fred and George’s mischief — and finally at Harry. “Take care of yourself, little brother. Don’t let the Ministry or the papers get to you.”
Harry’s expression darkened slightly. “They already have. But I’ll manage.”
Charlie nodded. “Good. And remember — you’re a Weasley first, a Triwizard Champion second, and whatever else the world calls you after that doesn’t matter.”
Harry smiled faintly. “I’ll remember.”
They hugged briefly — the kind of hug brothers share when words can’t quite express what’s left unsaid.
Then Charlie turned to leave, walking toward the carriages waiting at the edge of the forest. The evening light caught his coat, glinting like dragon scale, before he disappeared down the path.
As they watched him go, Ginny held up the dress robe with a fond smile. “He really thinks someone’s going to ask me to the ball.”
Fred grinned. “Maybe he’s right.”
“Maybe you should mind your own business,” she shot back.
George snickered. “You’ll have half the school queuing up, Gin. We’ll have to start charging a protection fee.”
Ron turned to Harry. “So… the Yule Ball, huh? You reckon they’ll make us dance too?”
Harry groaned. “I hope not. But knowing Dumbledore, he’ll find a way.”
Ginny smirked. “I can’t wait to see you trip over your own feet.”
Harry grinned back. “You probably will.”
The group laughed again as they started walking back toward the castle, their laughter echoing through the crisp, cold air.
Behind them, the sky burned orange, and the dragon cages rose into the air, carried away toward the horizon.
Charlie Weasley’s dragons were gone — but his words lingered.
And as Harry walked beside his siblings and friends, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that the next challenge — the one waiting beyond the Tournament — would test more than his strength.
It would test his heart.
The first snow of winter had begun to fall over Hogwarts, dusting the towers and battlements in soft silver. The air inside the castle was alive with whispers — the unannounced but much-anticipated Yule Ball had become every student’s favorite secret.
Ginny, as usual, was one to spread the news.
She had heard it from Charlie during his last visit, and though she promised not to tell anyone… well, secrets in Hogwarts had a half-life shorter than a sneeze.
By breakfast the next morning, she had already told Rose Potter and Astoria Greengrass, and by lunch, Luna Lovegood had somehow learned of it too. Now the four of them sat in a corner of the great hall, whispering excitedly about dress robes, hair charms, and dance partners.
Harry was flipping through one of his spellbooks when Ginny approached, dragging Rose and Astoria with her.
“Harry,” she began sweetly — too sweetly. “You wouldn’t happen to be going to Diagon Alley soon, would you?”
Harry blinked, suspicious already. “Not that I know of. Why?”
“Because,” she said, clasping her hands together, “the Yule Ball’s coming up and some of us —” she gestured dramatically to Rose and Astoria “— don’t have dress robes.”
Harry frowned. “Why don’t you just buy them when the school announces the Ball?”
“Because by then, the good ones will be gone!” Ginny said impatiently. “And besides, third years aren’t technically invited unless someone older takes them. But if we already have robes, we might get asked!”
Harry sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And this involves me how?”
Rose smiled sweetly. “Because we don’t have enough money to buy anything fancy, and you’re the only one who can sneak to Diagon Alley without getting caught.”
Astoria added, “And we heard Hermione’s going too.”
Harry turned toward Hermione, who was pretending very hard to be absorbed in a book but couldn’t hide her smile.
“Traitor,” Harry muttered.
Hermione closed the book with a soft thud. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m only going to buy my own dress robes. You were the one planning to go for yours.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “I was?”
She rolled her eyes. “You literally told me yesterday you needed to get something formal. Remember? You asked me if I wanted matching colors.”
“Oh. Right,” Harry said sheepishly. “So… black’s fine, then?”
Hermione nodded. “A black suit will do. Simple and elegant.”
“Good,” Harry said, relieved. “Because I wouldn’t know where to start matching colors.”
Ginny snickered. “Clearly, you wouldn’t know where to start buying for girls either.”
Harry shot her a look. “Which is why you’re not coming.”
Ginny pouted dramatically. “But how will you know what to get?”
“I won’t,” Harry said flatly. “That’s Hermione’s job now.”
Hermione sighed, looking heavenward. “How do I always end up being responsible for your impulsive ideas?”
Harry smirked. “You’re not responsible for them, just in them.”
That night, after curfew, the two of them slipped out under Harry’s Disillusionment Charm — far better than any cloak, and quieter too. The thrill of sneaking out of Hogwarts never quite faded, even for someone like Harry who had more detentions than birthdays.
Hermione, however, still couldn’t shake the guilty excitement that made her heart race as they crept through the dark corridors.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she whispered.
“You say that every time,” Harry whispered back.
“And you always convince me to do something reckless!”
“I prefer the word adventurous.”
She glared at him. “You’re corrupting me, you know.”
Harry chuckled softly. “Then I’m doing an excellent job.”
They reached Hogsmeade through one of the secret tunnels and Flooed to Diagon Alley. The night market shimmered with winter lights — enchanted icicles hanging from the shop eaves, floating candles lining the street, and vendors selling warm cocoa charmed never to spill.
It was quieter than usual, the kind of hush that made the cobblestones echo under their steps.
Harry looked around. “So where exactly do we start?”
Hermione’s eyes gleamed. “Madam Malkin’s, of course. She’s open late for Yule season orders.”
“Right,” Harry muttered. “Lead the way, oh wise one.”
Inside Madam Malkin’s, the shop was a whirl of color — flowing silks, lace-trimmed gowns, and floating ribbons enchanted to adjust size and fit.
Hermione immediately slipped into shopping mode. “Alright,” she said briskly. “We need three sets of dress robes — one for Rose, one for Astoria, and one for Ginny. They’re all third years, so nothing too elaborate, but elegant enough for a ball.”
Harry stared blankly at the rows of dresses. “They all look the same.”
“They are not the same,” Hermione said, horrified. “That one’s midnight silk, and that one’s star-threaded lace. There’s a difference!”
“Uh-huh,” Harry said unconvincingly.
She groaned. “You’re hopeless. Just stand there and look supportive.”
Harry obediently leaned against the counter as Hermione floated between displays, holding up gowns and muttering color comparisons under her breath.
“Ginny would look stunning in emerald,” she murmured. “Astoria needs something soft — maybe lavender. And Rose…” Hermione hesitated, smiling faintly. “Something red. She’s got her father’s boldness.”
Harry couldn’t help smiling. “You’re terrifyingly good at this.”
“It’s called common sense,” Hermione replied. “You should try it sometime.”
By the time they finished, three sets of beautifully wrapped boxes floated beside them, tied with silver ribbons. Harry paid without blinking, though Hermione noticed how casually he handed over the galleons.
“You didn’t even check the price,” she said as they stepped outside.
He shrugged. “If it makes them happy, it’s worth it.”
Hermione smiled softly. “You really are too kind sometimes.”
Harry grinned. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my image.”
They strolled back toward the Leaky Cauldron, snow falling softly around them. For once, the world felt quiet — no tournaments, no dragons, no rumors. Just the two of them beneath the winter lights.
“You know,” Hermione said suddenly, “you didn’t need to do all this.”
“I know,” Harry said. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that family isn’t just blood. And they’re my family too.”
She smiled at that, tucking her arm through his as they walked. “You’re impossible.”
“And corrupting,” Harry reminded her with a grin.
Hermione laughed softly. “Yes. Both.”
As they vanished into the night, Diagon Alley’s lamplights flickered behind them, and the snow fell like quiet applause — for the boy who had faced monsters and still found time to buy dresses for little sisters who dreamed of dancing.
