THE YULE BALL, 1952, HOGWARTS

Albus Dumbledore stood in the far corner of the Great Hall, watching as the students danced and waltzed around the room for the Yule Ball, each of them looking extravagant or strange in their own way, although he wouldn’t comment on any of their outfits negatively. It made him think of Grindelwald, how he had once felt so loved. Then again, they would never work, and even if they did, would he really plan to wipe out all muggle-borns in the name of wizarding dominance?

Minerva McGonagall, seventeen and a girl who’d much rather be studying right now than anything, had her back pressed up to the wall as she tapped her foot on the marble floor, her shoulder straps sliding ever so nimbly off her shoulders, which she pulled back up; straightening herself, and walking past a group of chattering fifth years.

Poppy Pomfrey was technically occupied, talking to one of her fellow Ravenclaw classmates, the two caught up in a passionate conversation about one of their classes, probably Charms, which she had excelled at, the student next to her looking as if he’d just won a metal for his intelligence and was now boasting to everyone that had ears or that could hear, which ultimately everyone could.

And then you felt someone jab you in the rib cage with the their elbow.