VIII

The day of the Christmas Ball began with a wail from the top of Ravenclaw tower. Hether's body switched into fight mode, and she jumped out of bed, hands full of swirling energy at the ready. Her eyes flew frantically round the room, searching for the threat, until they landed on a rather displaced Grega. She let out a breath of relief and shook her hands.

"What's the matter?" she stepped towards the blonde, whose chest was rising and falling with quick breaths. "Why'd you scream like that? I swear you've woken up half the whole school."

Grega raised a shaking finger towards her wardrobe, whose doors had been flung open. A heavy sob escaped her mouth. Hether frowned worryingly and walked up to the closet. A gasp escaped her mouth. "Oh no..."

It was Grega's dress. The beautiful and seamless blue silk garment had been ripped and shorn to shreds. Most of it now lay on the floor of her closet, in a little pile of pieces, while a few forlorn-looking threads clung to the hanger. Grega's sob broke free and she sank to the floor on her knees, crying. Hether subconsciously raised a hand to her mouth.

The door to the room flung open, and the head girl; a tall slim figure of a witch, bundled in with another girl and a bright flashlight in tow.

"What's going on?" she flashed her light between Hether's shocked figure and Grega's kneeling one. Hether blinked in the sudden light and pointed to the wardrobe.

"It's Grega. Someone's broken in and cut up her dress." She stepped aside as the two girls moved closer to examine the dress.

"Oh no," the other girl said. Hether thought she looked a right mess, with her hair still in rollers and only half a face of makeup. "Who would do this?"

Hether picked up a piece of fabric, and muttered a revelio enchantment. An image of Pansy Parkinson flashed in her mind as she did so. A grim look settled over her face and she squeezed the fabric. Perhaps she should have killed her off when she had the chance. If she thought she was going to regain her hold by targeting those close to her, then she was mistaken.

"I know who did it." She dropped the fabric and helped Grega rise to her feet. The latter had gone as quiet as a mouse, and had shrunk within herself, as if she was experiencing some sort of trauma. She felt sorry for the gentle soul.

"Who did it then?" the head girl pressed. "Has she got a spare dress?"

"Don't bother. I'll sort Grega here out." she gave a tight smile. "We're roommates, after all."

"You lot will be okay?" the flashlight was aimed back at the closet.

"We will. Sorry about it. Thanks though." Hether nodded and watched as they retreated back out the room, shutting the door just as noisily as they had opened it.

"What am I going to do, Hether?" Grega wrenched herself free of her hold. "My mom spent a lot on that dress."

"I could tell." Hether took the hanger and the pieces out of the closet and set them on the floor between them. "Why don't you go take a shower? I'll work something out."

The girl nodded an took her bathrobe and toilet bag, heading for the door. Once she had gone, Hether sat on the bed, tuning her harp. She didn't have a dress herself – she found them very constricting. What if she had to fight? She wasn't going to rip away part of her skirt just so she could move freely. Once she was done, she washed her face and slipped into her outfit. It was a white pantsuit, that started out in clinging laces and curves down to her waist, and then flared out in chiffon legs that seemed to fold into one another when she moved. Her shoulders and arms were decked in the lace, which fanned out into a wing-like shape when she moved them.

In that moment, Grega walked back in and gasped as she saw the strange but beautiful piece. It was very much different from the current fashion, and seemed as if she had plucked it from another time and brought it into this one.

Hether looked up to see her roommate staring at her with her mouth wide open, and looked back down quickly, her face heating up.

"Gosh, you'll end everyone at the ball!" Grega giggled.

"It's a pity they won't see me because I'm on the band." Hether laughed in agreement.

"Well, where's mine?" she looked around the room excitedly, but her face fell as her gaze returned to the shorn fabric at her feet. "It's fine. I don't have to go."

"Don't be silly," Hether waved her wand in Grega's face. "Today, I'm going to be your fairy godmother."

"My what?" the girl's face twisted in confusion. Hether rolled her eyes and shook the wand over her. Much to the latter's amazement, little sparkles of light began to flood out of the wand and washed over her. As she watched, the light wrapped itself round and wound her until she was only seeing light. Then, as quickly as it had began, it ended.

When Grega looked down, all she could see were the folds of a fabric that never existed. Hether dragged her to the mirror and grinned. She gasped. They hadn't learnt any transformation spells yet, but somehow, Hether had changed her from a bathrobe debacle to a stunning beauty decked in blue silk folds. The dress began in rose-like swirls from her underarms, going all the way down in those folds, till they covered her feet. Her hair had been arranged back with braids on either side of her head woven with cornflowers round to the back. At the corner of her eyes, tiny blue and white stones fanned out in an intricate pattern, stopping far above her lips, which had been glossed voluminously.

"Bradley's going to flip." She breathed out.

"Bradley Reighan? You're going with a Hufflepuff?" Hether scoffed.

"He's kind, which is something some people aren't." Grega retorted. Hether shook her head and turned to her vanity to do her own makeup. Grega looked on as she carefully applied powders and liners.

Sure, the girl was still strange and cold with her airs and graces, but this little incident had shown that she was a True Friend, and probably one for life. "Thank you, Hether."

The girl made no action to acknowledge the thanks, but as she looked, Grega could see her smiling in the vanity mirror.