Valentine's Day Ball: Hogwarts Mystery

Hearts Have Ears

"Miss Spellman, plants are prohibited in the library," said Pince. She'd descended on Sarah like a vulture the moment the Gryffindor stepped through the doors with a bouquet of roses. "Take those away before they get dirt and water on the books."

"But the flowers are why I'm here, Madam Pince," she said, holding them up for her to inspect. "Professor Sprout wanted me to get your approval on these for the ball. Our herbology class just grew dozens of them."

"Ah," said Madam Pince. She took a step back, as if the flowers gave off a terrible disease rather than a pleasant smell. "Well, I appreciate the thought, but I won't be needing any flowers."

"No flowers on Valentine's Day?" Sarah asked. What would be next, Christmas with no tree?

"Have you ever been alone on Valentine's Day, Miss Spellman?"

"Uh..." She wasn't sure what to make of this question. She'd only begun to have romantic interest in Valentine's Day last year, when Barnaby had asked her to Lockhart's fiasco of a party. But before that, she and Rowan had always spent the day together, pigging out on sweets and playing endless rounds of exploding snap. "I suppose not?"

"Then you cannot possibly understand," said Pince, "how piercing reminders flowers and the like can be for those who are alone that day. I want this party to be inclusive to everyone, not a harsh reminder of what some of them do not have."

"I see..." said Sarah, though she wasn't sure she did. "But, I've had a word with many of the students, and they aren't sure you share their vision of a celebration, exactly."

"Indeed? Pray tell, what is their vision?"

Sarah plowed through her explanation, though she could see she was losing Pince's cooperation with every word. 

"Well, they want a chance to let their hair down. Some exciting music to dance to, yummy sweets, fun decorations, fancy dress maybe, flowers."

Pince's nostrils flared, and Sarah had to fight the impulse to back away, afraid she might start breathing fire. 

"In other words, a loud, sugar-filled night of frivolity. Anything else?"

"A few mugs of butterbeer wouldn't go amiss."

"Naturally," said Pince, actually rolling her eyes. "No doubt you and your friends would be belching loudly all evening. No Miss Spellman, I shall not allow such ill manners at the ball. There will be no floral arrangements, no sugary refreshments, and the only sounds I want to hear that evening are that of a lonely classical fortepiano."

"But that sounds so...sad."

Pince glared at her. "Life isn't always a bouquet of roses, Miss Spellman."

Sarah clenched her fists and glared back. Did Pince really think she didn't know that better than almost everyone at Hogwarts? That's why she was doing this. She wanted to help her friends forget, if only for one night, about the sludge of pain and misery they'd been wading through all year. 

"No matter how much we want to believe it, I don't intend to enforce the notion of a storybook romance on others or myself," Pince continued, oblivious to Sarah's change in mood. "Dumbledore hand-picked me for this responsibility. If you have issues with the way I'm running things, I suggest you take it up with him."

"Alright, I will," said Sarah, and she turned and hurried from the room before she could burst into tears.

Sarah's feet carried her up to the Headmaster's office before her mind could comprehend what she was doing. She wasn't sure why Pince's words had affected her so harshly. Of course, it didn't take much to upset her anymore. The grief that had consumed her since Rowan's death still ebbed and flowed within her like waves on the shore, crashing into her and barreling her over when she least expected it.