"You've told me before that tooth correction doesn't have to rely on Muggle devices."
Hermione looked at Sherlock, her fingers lightly touching her teeth that Gemma had adjusted, her tone carrying a hint of excitement. "I just didn't expect she'd do even better than I imagined. Her technique is practically as good as Madam Pomfrey's!"
"Then why were you worried?"
Sherlock noticed that when she just mentioned this, her fingertips had curled slightly—this was exactly the small gesture Hermione always made when nervous.
"Um... actually, I think you should understand that my parents won't be happy."
Hermione wasn't at all surprised that Sherlock could see this, and immediately explained. "For many years, I've been trying to persuade them to let me shrink my teeth. But they always hoped I'd persist with wearing those metal braces for correcting crooked teeth. You know, they're dentists—they think teeth and magic shouldn't be mixed."
Sherlock understood. It was simply that Hermione's parents hadn't been able to fully accept magic.
This was actually quite normal.
As Hermione said, these two were dentists, and very capable ones at that.
In other matters it might be one thing, but in their own professional field, they naturally had full confidence.
So this time Hermione had really gone all out. Regardless of whether they accepted it or not, she had just done it first and asked for forgiveness later.
But judging purely from the results, it was quite good.
"Your current appearance suits you well."
"Thank you, Sherlock!"
Encouraged by Sherlock, Hermione's eyes curved into crescent moons.
However, remembering Gemma's reminder from last night, she gathered her courage to say. "Oh, there's something I need to tell you—Krum from Durmstrang also invited me to be his partner a few days ago."
As she spoke, she stole glances at Sherlock's expression, wanting to catch any ripple in those gray eyes.
But Sherlock's expression remained calm. She couldn't discern anything.
Helplessly, she could only continue to add. "He told me that he goes to the library every day hoping to talk to me, but never had the courage."
"He wasn't lying."
Hermione looked at Sherlock in surprise. "What?"
"The time we ran into him in the library, he was indeed observing you."
Sherlock sighed slightly. "You were with me at the time, so I thought he was keeping tabs on my movements. That was when we had just learned the first task involved dragons. Unfortunately, if I had stayed a bit longer that day, or gone to the library again afterward, I would have discovered his target was you."
"There's nothing unfortunate about it!"
Hermione's cheeks instantly burned, even her ears turned red. She hurriedly waved her hands, her voice even stuttering.
"You know I could never have agreed to him!"
"Yes, by that time your target was already me."
Sherlock spoke matter-of-factly, his tone carrying that "this is obvious" logic.
Even though she knew Sherlock was just stating facts without any other meaning, hearing this sentence, the blush on Hermione's cheeks spread like a tide.
She turned her head away, pretending to watch her friends' snowball fight, but the corners of her mouth couldn't help but turn up slightly.
Just then, halftime for the snowball fight arrived.
The friends all had red noses, their cheeks flushed from both the cold wind and excitement, even their hair dotted with unmelted snow.
So when they came over to Sherlock and Hermione, the blush on Hermione's face from shyness didn't seem so conspicuous anymore.
"You two seem to be having a good chat!"
Ginny bounced over, still clutching an unthrown snowball in her hand.
Her large eyes were bright and sparkling, full of excitement.
Earlier she had been on a team with Harry and Ron against the Weasley twins.
Although they were ultimately pelted with snowballs and routed, she still smiled with crinkled eyes.
As for the reason, it went without saying.
However, when Ginny saw the scarf around Harry's neck, her expression darkened.
Harry didn't notice at all. He came over too, patting the snow off himself and asking curiously. "Yeah, what were you talking about? Was it about the Christmas Ball?"
The scarf that Cho Chang had given him hung askew around his neck, bringing him warmth on this cold winter day and making his heart feel sweet.
Because of the snowball fight activity, the hair on his forehead was dampened by snow and stuck to his skin, making him look somewhat disheveled but particularly boyish.
For some reason, Hermione didn't want to tell anyone except Sherlock about Krum's invitation.
Even though Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all very good friends of hers.
So hearing Harry's question, she immediately nodded along with the topic.
"Yes, it's getting late. I was just about to go back to the tower to prepare."
"What? Prepare? You need three hours to prepare?"
Ron, who had just walked over, heard this and couldn't help but widen his eyes.
He looked at Hermione, his face full of disbelief. "Isn't it just going to a dance? Does it need to take that long?"
"Boys and girls are different."
Ginny immediately linked arms with Hermione and wrinkled her nose at Ron. "You don't understand how much girls need to prepare—hair, dress, accessories, everything needs careful attention."
Hermione looked at Ginny gratefully, a flash of relief in her eyes.
"Really?"
Ron still didn't quite believe it. He turned to Harry, his tone seeking confirmation. "Harry, does your partner also need three hours to prepare?"
As soon as he said this, Hermione immediately felt Ginny's arm tighten around hers.
She couldn't help but show a helpless expression, thinking to herself that these friends of hers were all a bit dense.
Ginny was his sister—didn't he consider her feelings at all?
"I, I don't know either."
Harry's ears turned slightly red as he scratched his head helplessly.
He thought to himself that her willingness to accept his invitation was already a tremendous surprise.
How could he presume to ask her about such things?
"Anyway, I'm not counting on my partner to make much of an impression. As long as other people don't laugh at me, that's good enough."
Ron curled his lip and muttered quietly, "After all, I found..."
"Don't talk about her that way!"
Before Ron could finish, Ginny angrily interrupted him.
She had already been dissatisfied with Ron, and now her brows knitted together, her eyes full of displeasure. "Luna is wonderful. She's just different from other people. You can't talk about her like that!"
"Alright, alright, I won't say anything more. I should be thanking her, shouldn't I?"
Seeing Ginny truly angry, Ron quickly raised both hands in surrender, shrugging his shoulders, his tone carrying some helplessness. "If she hadn't been willing to be my partner, I probably would have had to attend the ball alone and been laughed at by everyone."
"You could have also chosen not to attend."
Sherlock, who had been silently observing, suddenly interjected coolly.
Ron. (;Д`)
The air fell silent for a few seconds, and everyone couldn't help but suppress their laughter.
Even Ginny pressed her lips together, her shoulders trembling slightly.
Ron opened his mouth, wanting to argue back, but found he couldn't find any words to respond. He could only sullenly close his mouth.
Everyone chatted casually for a few more sentences.
Harry mentioned that he had used the footwork Sherlock taught him during their snowball fight just now. Ron complained about the color of his dress robes. Ginny discussed the ball decorations with Hermione.
Soon it was five o'clock, and Hermione and Ginny said goodbye to them.
The two linked arms and walked toward Gryffindor Tower, their figures quickly disappearing at the end of the snowy path.
"They actually left? I thought they were just joking!"
Ron watched the direction they had gone, still looking amazed. He hadn't expected girls to take preparing for a ball so seriously.
Coming back to his senses, he turned to Sherlock and leaned over curiously. "Hey Sherlock, how did you think of having Lovegood be my partner? How did you know she'd agree?"
Sherlock spoke in his matter-of-fact tone. "Because that day she specifically sought me out, saying she wanted to attend the Christmas Ball but no upper-year students had invited her."
Hearing Sherlock's words, Harry and Ron exchanged glances, remaining silent.
Both thought to themselves that with the nickname "Loony Lovegood," let alone being a student below fourth year, even if she were a fourth-year or above student, probably no one would be willing to invite her.
"If I didn't have a partner, I could have taken her."
This sentence made Harry and Ron exchange glances again.
They both simultaneously realized that this "loony" girl indeed held an unusual place in Sherlock's mind.
They heard Sherlock continue in that matter-of-fact tone. "But I had already promised Hermione, and Harry had promised Cho Chang. Since you were also upset about inviting Miss Delacour and being rejected, I naturally thought of you."
"No wonder she told me I just needed to bring her to the ball..."
Ron seemed to suddenly understand.
Once again, he had been arranged by Sherlock down to the last detail.
"That's right, exactly." Sherlock nodded.
Ron. "..."
After a moment of silence, Ron finally let out a long sigh, as if resigned to his fate.
"Fine, it's better than having no partner, or going to the ball with Eloise Midgen."
"My dear Ron, you're far too focused on females' appearances. This isn't a good sign."
Hearing Ron mention this name again, Sherlock looked at Ron and said.
"Excessive attention to appearance will cause you to lose judgment at critical moments, thereby overlooking more important things."
"Not everyone can be like you, completely indifferent to pretty girls. And also..."
Ron said indignantly, "Why don't you say something about Harry? Isn't he also because Cho Chang is good-looking that he..."
"I am not!"
Harry immediately flushed red, hurrying to defend himself. "I'm because I think Cho is gentle and kind—and she also likes Quidditch."
"I don't believe you for a second, you're quite the schemer!"
"I told you it has nothing to do with appearance! We have lots of common topics, that's why I invited her!"
"Don't explain, explaining is just covering up!"
"I said it's not, and it's not!"
The two quickly started bickering again.
Just then, George seized the opportunity and threw a large snowball from behind, accurately hitting Ron's back.
So they simply stopped and rejoined the snowball fight.
There was no Christmas tea arranged today, because tonight's Christmas Ball would have a grand feast.
By seven o'clock, the sky gradually darkened.
The light in the snow grew dimmer and dimmer, making it difficult even to aim at targets.
Only then did everyone reluctantly stop, brush off the snow, and head back to Gryffindor Tower together.
Just reaching the entrance to the common room, they saw a halo of light around the Fat Lady's portrait frame.
The Fat Lady was sitting in the frame with her friend Violet.
Their cheeks were flushed, their eyes hazy, both looking dizzy and tipsy.
Sherlock's gaze swept over and noticed several empty chocolate liqueur boxes discarded at the bottom of the portrait.
He couldn't help but shake his head. He didn't want to say anything anymore.
"Bril—brilliant light! Yes, that's the password!"
The Fat Lady heard the password Harry gave and giggled with laughter.
Her voice was slurred, and her body swayed, but she still made the portrait swing open, revealing the entrance to the common room.
For boys, the time needed to dress up was undoubtedly much shorter.
After returning to the dormitory, Sherlock, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Dean quickly changed into their respective dress robes.
Except for Sherlock's consistent composure, the four roommates all seemed awkward and uneasy.
Neville kept pulling at his collar, while Dean adjusted his hair in front of the mirror.
Harry, who had a date with Cho Chang, repeatedly adjusted his collar, afraid something might be wrong.
But the most dejected was undoubtedly Ron.
He stood in front of the tall mirror in the corner, hands on his hips, his face showing an expression of horror and despair, as if seeing something terrible.
Before the start of term, he had already seen the dress robes Mrs. Weasley had prepared for him.
But he still hadn't imagined that once actually worn, it would look like this.
Actually, just considering the style of the robes themselves, they were fairly standard.
Similar to school robes in design—not eye-catching but not ugly either.
But that purple color was particularly glaring under the lights. Without exaggeration, it was like a walking purple sweet potato.
By the time they went downstairs, Ron was still muttering under his breath, complaining about Mrs. Weasley's aesthetic, his tone full of resentment.
"Why purple again? Couldn't she pick a normal color for me? Like black, or dark blue—even gray would do!"
The scene in the common room at this time was also quite different from usual. the usual uniform black wizard robes were gone, replaced by colorful dress robes.
Red like fire, pink like clouds, white like snow—it looked particularly lively.
Everyone gathered in twos and threes, talking in low voices, the air filled with an atmosphere of anticipation.
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