Malak Aboul Gheit is no stranger to suffering. To death. But she is neither a stranger to love.
The path of this young Egyptian witch as she joins Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy in 3rd year seemed uncertain, but she will soon be trapped i...
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The Daily Prophet did in fact belittle Malak's performance. A full story on Harry's love affaire with Hermione seemed to catch the full attention of the tabloid, completely pushing the other three champions to the side — that is, to the last five lines of a 10 page piece on the first task of the tournament.
Upon seeing the article, Malak couldn't be happier. Should buy me some time, she thought to herself but the whole school life didn't really give her a break.
Moreover, the fact that Charlie's birthday was approaching and that she was not going to be able to go to Romania to visit him was taking its toll on the Egyptian witch.
She might have not been able to go due to school work and the tournament preparations, but the imposed impossibility wore her down deeply. Charlie Weasley had been nothing but supportive, but Malak just couldn't find it within her to be positive.
Double Transfiguration with Hufflepuff on Friday last period didn't seem to be cheering her up neither. Or Lee's little shenanigans, for that matter.
"It's useless, Lee, really. Nothing can cheer me up," she whispered to her desk partner.
Professor McGonagall however, did seem to be in an annoyingly nice mood before her announcement. "I have something to say to you all."
"This can't be good." Lee was looking at the teacher with a mixture of disgust and pure terror.
"The Yule Ball is approaching —" the Transfiguration's Master started, "a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above — although you may invite a younger student if you wish —"
A round of giggles was heard around the classroom, mainly from the girls of Hufflepuff.
Malak could not help rolling her eyes. "Kill me now, Lee. This is absolutely idiotic."
"Who speaks like that, Mals?"
"An idiot like myself, I guess."
"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, raising her voice slightly over the whispers that had followed the giggling, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then —"
Minerva McGonagall continued speaking, but Malak Aboul Gheit was not listening any more.
Christmas Day.
Christmas Day.
Christmas Day.
That would mean not seeing Charlie for Christmas neither.
"Lee, please tell me I misheard." She grabbed the boy's arm, almost out of breath.
"Nope, I'm pretty sure you heard well." Lee snickered. "I can wait to see you in dress robes, little lamb."
