Beauty Outshines All

Just as Harry was eagerly awaiting, a group of Slytherin students came up the steps from their underground Common Room.

Leading the way was Malfoy, dressed in a black velvet high-necked Dress robe, looking every bit like a parish priest.

Pansy Parkinson, dressed in a light pink robe with ruffles, clung tightly to Malfoy's arm, clearly his dance partner.

Crabbe and Goyle were both dressed in green, like two large stones covered in moss. Yingzi stood alone, clearly not having found a suitable partner.

The oak front door was opened, and everyone turned to see Durmstrang's students and Professor Karkaroff walk in together.

Krum walked at the front, with a beautiful Ravenclaw girl beside him.

Over their heads, a lawn in front of the castle was transformed into a cave, shimmering with Fairy light—meaning there were hundreds of living Fairy, some sitting in magically conjured rose bushes, others flapping their wings atop statues that appeared to be Santa Claus and his reindeer.

Just then, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out. "Brave warriors, come this way!"

Professor McGonagall was wearing a long red plaid robe, with an unsightly Thistle wreath adorning the brim of her hat.

She told them to wait by the door while the others went in first. Once everyone was seated, they lined up and entered the Great Hall. Phoebe Delacour and Roger Davis stood closest to the door.

Davis seemed unable to believe his good fortune in having such a dance partner as Phoebe; his eyes were glued to Phoebe as if they were glued to her.

"He's such a loser," Ron muttered, sharply criticizing Davis. "He seems so proud of himself, like he's never had a girlfriend before."

However, despite saying that, Seamus clearly didn't think so.

"If it were me, I'd probably be overjoyed too. After all, that's Phoebe Delacour!" Seamus looked at Roger Davis with some envy. "If I could be Miss Delacour's dance partner, I'd even be happy to be her boyfriend!"

"You wish!" Ron glanced at Seamus with disdain.

Seamus's dance partner was Lavender Brown of Gryffindor. When Ron spoke ill of Seamus, Lavender gave Ron a reproachful look, showing his defense of his dance partner.

"Where's Hermione? Why hasn't she come out yet?"

Ron changed the subject; he was actually getting a little anxious too. The ball was about to start, and there was still no sign of him, so he couldn't help but worry.

Suddenly, his mouth dropped open in surprise.

A beautiful young woman walked in through the door; she was slender and tall, and immediately caught Ron's eye.

It's Hermione.

But she didn't look like Hermione at all anymore. She had done something to her hair; it was no longer messy but smooth and shiny, and it was styled into an elegant updo at the back of her head.

She wore a flowing robe made of a light purple-blue fabric, and somehow, her demeanor was different—perhaps simply because she had removed the twenty-odd thick books she usually carried with her.

She smiled—of course, a little nervous—but her shrunken front teeth looked even smaller.

Ron's mouth was dry, and he began to doubt his own existence, wondering if there was something wrong with his eyes.

No, how come I never noticed before that Hermione is so beautiful?

Now it seems that Hermione is not only a girl, but also a very beautiful girl.

Hermione, of course, noticed Ron's infatuated and astonished gaze. She was extremely pleased and secretly scolded him as a fool.

She then stepped forward and hooked her arm around Ron's right arm.

It was only at this moment that Ron came to his senses.

He could hardly believe that such a beautiful girl was his dance partner, and Hermione, with whom he spent every day—

Merlin's most fragrant shampoo, Hermione — Hermione actually pressed close to him. His body suddenly stiffened, he didn't know where to put his hands, and his head was like it had rusted and wouldn't turn. He just stood there with his head held high, looking straight ahead, pretending to be calm.

"What's wrong, Ron?" Hermione asked softly from the side.

"No, it's nothing." Ron maintained his upright posture, as if he had just attended a month-long Summer veteran camp.

Hermione could see his nervousness, but to save face for her male companion, she simply smiled slyly and kept quiet.

Ahead, Professor McGonagall is questioning Harry.

"Potter, where is your dance partner?" she asked seriously.

Harry thought to himself, "I also want to know where my dance partners are."

Meanwhile, all the students in the Entrance hall turned their attention to Harry.

Indeed, the Warriors don't have girlfriends yet.

"Let's go inside." Professor McGonagall gave Harry a serious look, but didn't say anything.

As a professor, she was certainly aware of Mr. Potter's complicated and messy love life, but she didn't want to get involved, nor did she care.

Who knows if those three poor girls are having a duel to decide who will be Mr. Potter's dance partner?

Thinking of this, Professor McGonagall's eyes became even more...

After everyone was seated in the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall told the warriors and their dance partners to line up in pairs and follow her inside.

They filed in and walked toward a large round table at the front of the Great Hall where the referees were seated, and the people in the Great Hall applauded enthusiastically.

The walls of the Great Hall were covered with Winky Silver frost, the ceiling was a starry night sky, and there were hundreds of wreaths made of parasitic twigs and ivy hanging from it.

The four college tables were gone, replaced by hundreds of small tables lit with lanterns, each with about ten people sitting around it.

The warriors approached the High Table area. Dumbledore smiled happily, as did Karkaroff, whose black stains on his teeth were even more noticeable.

Ludo Bagman was wearing a bright purple robe with large yellow stars on it that evening, and he clapped enthusiastically like his classmates.

Madame Maxime took off her usual black satin uniform and put on a flowing pale purple robe.

Harry sat down next to Viktor; he was actually a little hungry.

He wasn't really interested in where his three dance partners had gone; he just wanted to get something to eat.

"Hey," Viktor suddenly whispered.

Harry turned his head and looked at Viktor with a puzzled expression.

"Where is your female companion?" Viktor mumbled heavily in a nasal voice. He spoke in a distinctive way, emphasizing the zeros.

"It must be something urgent," Harry said nonchalantly. He then asked in a low voice, "More than worrying about where they are, I'm wondering how we can get something to eat. Good heavens, I'm starving, and the Kitchen isn't serving us any food—"

But Viktor astutely grasped the key point in Harry's words.

they?

It wasn't her, but "them".

However, adhering to the principle of not asking too many questions, Viktor decided to wait and see.

Harry tugged at the sleeve of his dress, intending to figure out some food for himself.

The gleaming gold plates were empty, but each person had a small menu in front of them.

Harry picked up his menu without hesitation, glanced around—no one was waiting. Dumbledore examined his menu carefully, then, looking at his plate, said very clearly, "Pork chop!"

The pork chop appeared immediately. The others at the table suddenly realized what was going on and followed suit, ordering their favorite dishes onto their plates.

"Roast chicken," Harry said, craving some.

Suddenly, a whole roasted chicken, cut into pieces, appeared in front of him, accompanied by roasted mushrooms and potatoes, and a few bright red cherry tomatoes as garnish.

"That's great," Harry said with a smile, picking up a cherry tomato with his Prongs and putting it in his mouth.

It's grilled to perfection, not too burnt, and has a sweet and sour flavor that's very appetizing, making it perfect for a small bite before a meal.

Veratia's temporary office.

Before the serpentine mirror, Cassandra's pale fingertips gently traced the live silver snake buckle coiled around her waist.

The Magical Creatures, taken from the Black family's dowry box, immediately raised its head, its emerald-inlaid snake eyes shooting out two eerie beams of light.

The dark green taffeta dress was made to look like the deep water of the Black Lake.

"Purissimum sanguinem (Purest blood)"

She tilted her chin up at the mirror, her fingertips lightly tapping the whalebone crinoline.

As the incantation was recited, seven invisible silver lines appeared on the dress—the crests of the seven Pure-blood families that had married into the Malfoy family. These lines were now transforming into flowing mithril, weaving a bloodline chart in Gothic script on the hem of the dress.

This dress was left to her by her mother; it was a secret treasure hidden in her treasury.

"Cassandra?"

Pabbie's voice came from outside, and then the door was pushed open.

"Cassandra?" Pabbie poked a little head in. "The ball is about to start. Aren't you going to the Great Hall? Harry and the others should be dancing their first dance soon—"

"Didn't Grindelwald go?" Cassandra asked casually, a small silver snake ornament on her head Winky.

"Oh," Pabbie said, "she said that for such an important occasion, you should go first—"

Cassandra was stunned.

Then, she gave a disdainful sneer.

"Can I interpret this as a gift from the victors?"

"Oh dear." Pabbie squeezed in and sat down next to Cassandra. "How could it be charity? Don't worry, Veratia definitely didn't mean it that way—"

"Oh."

Cassandra stood up and reached for the black cloak beside her.

With a flick of his wrist, he draped the cloak over his back.

In a daze, Pabbie saw a line of small, silvery-white words flash by quickly on the lining of the cloak.

"SanctimoniaVincet Semper (Purity will always conquer)"

"That's the Malfoy family for you; their obsession with Pure-blood and pure lineage is truly something else." Cassandra held her head high, like a proud swan. "Let's go, don't keep Potter waiting." "I really don't want him to cry on such an important occasion, don't you think, Sweeting?"

"Call me Pabbie." Pabbie chuckled and hugged Cassandra's arm.

When Cassandra heard Pabbie say that, she really wanted to call her Pabbie.

But then she suddenly felt something soft against her shoulder, and when she looked down, her previously good mood instantly crumbled.

"Ha," she muttered softly, "Vulgar."

"Ugh! You're so mean!" Pabbie protested. "Where did I do anything indecent? Where, where, where?"

"Everywhere." Cassandra snorted and strode toward the Great Hall.

Inside the Great Hall, Harry was feasting. He had just devoured a whole roast chicken and was now battling for a steak.

Viktor seemed rather uninterested in conversation, at least not with the girl next to him.

He always tried to strike up a conversation with Harry, but Harry always managed to find a suitable opportunity to change the subject.

It's so slippery you can't leave a trace.

Meanwhile, Phoebe Delacour is criticizing the decor of Hogwarts to Roger Davis.

"That's nothing," she said dismissively, glancing at the star-studded walls surrounding the Great Hall. "At Beauxbatons Castle, our Great Hall is filled with ice sculptures at Christmas. Of course, they don't melt; they're like giant Diamond statues, Winky in the Great Hall. The food is superb too. We also have the Woodland Fairy Choir, who sing serenades to us while we eat."

We don't have any of those ugly suits of armor along the walls. If some mischievous ghost were to wander into Beauxbatons, it would be thrown out, just like this.

She slammed her hand on the table in frustration.

Roger Davis watched her speak with a rapt look on his face, and several times he held his Prongs crookedly, failing to put any food into his mouth.

Harry felt that Davis was so focused on staring at Phoebe that he hadn't heard a word she was saying.

"Exactly!" Davis responded eagerly, mimicking Phoebe by slapping the table with his hand. "Just like this, that's right!"

Peeves is really annoying.

Harry thought to himself, "You're the damn annoying one. You've only known Phoebe for a short time, and you're already criticizing the school with her. You're really opportunistic."

Harry abruptly interrupted Phoebe's sharp critique when she extended her criticism to the Gryffindors.

"I think Hogwarts is great, at least for us," he said. "Everyone's aesthetic sense is different, and I hope you can focus on appreciating beauty rather than trying your best to find fault with this castle."

"You mean I shouldn't point out the flaws of Hogwarts Castle?" Phoebe asked, displeased.

"Oh, no, not at all." Harry smiled. "I was just suggesting something. After all, being good at finding beauty is an advantage, but being good at finding flaws isn't."

Phoebe felt quite overwhelmed after being stabbed in the back by Harry's words.

But she quickly regained her composure and once again raised her proud head.

"You're right," she said. "I am indeed very good at finding beauty, but I have never found a girl more beautiful than me at Hogwarts." She meant it sincerely, and it sounded like a statement of fact.

Viktor opened his mouth but said nothing; while his Ravenclaw companion looked indignant but had to swallow her anger, after all...

In terms of looks, Phoebe is definitely top-notch, the kind that makes people feel inferior.

Just as Harry was about to say something, a gasp suddenly rang out in the Great Hall.

Phoebe subconsciously looked up, and suddenly realized that her bold statement had been proven wrong as soon as it was made.

Standing at the entrance of the Great Hall was a young girl dressed in her finest attire.

Although Phoebe didn't recognize the woman, she could tell at a glance from her attire that she was a beauty from Slytherin.