“But that does NOT mean,” Professor McGonagall went on, “that we will be relaxing the
standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a
Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way.”
The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and
swung them onto their shoulders.
Professor McGonagall called above the noise, “Potter - a word, if you please.”
Assuming this had something to do with his headless rubber haddock, Harry proceeded gloomily
to the teacher’s desk. Professor McGonagall waited until the rest of the class had gone, and then
said, “Potter, the champions and their partners -”
“What partners?” said Harry.
Profesor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to be
funny.
“Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter,” she said coldly. “Your dance partners.”
Harry’s insides seemed to curl up and shrivel.
“Dance partners?” He felt himself going red. “I don’t dance,” he said quickly.
“Oh yes, you do,” said Professor McGonagall irritably. “That’s what I’m telling you.
Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball.”
Harry had a sudden mental image of himself in a top hat and tails, accompanied by a girl in the
sort of frilly dress Aunt Petunia always wore to Uncle Vernon’s work parties.
“I’m not dancing,” he said.
“It is traditional,” said Professor McGonagall firmly. “You are a Hogwarts champion, and you
will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a
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