"But dancing in front of everyone is just way too embarrassing..." Harry said, clearly uncomfortable. "And we've got to ask a girl to go with us... How do you even get a girl to come out from a whole crowd? I'd be laughed at for weeks—"
And honestly, he wasn't wrong.
These days at Hogwarts, the girls seemed to move around in large flocks, occupying nearly every corner of the castle. Even that corridor on the eighth floor with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy getting clubbed by trolls was suddenly a popular hangout.
"When did Hogwarts end up with so many girls?" Ron asked in disbelief as he squeezed between Cohen and Harry after a Charms class. "I swear there's at least five times more of them than before!"
"That's because no one wants to be alone at the Yule Ball," Cohen replied. "No wonder Dumbledore barely blinked when I threatened to start dating last time. The old man already had it all figured out… he's way more cunning than he looks..."
"You'd think they'd be going around on their own then..." Harry muttered. At that moment, a group of ten girls passed by them, glancing and giggling at the trio. "Otherwise, who's got the nerve to walk into a crowd and ask, 'Do you want to go to the ball with me?'"
"Probably don't want to lose to their friends..." Ron said thoughtfully. "Like, if a girl comes up to invite you two, I'd definitely feel bad—but if I'm standing right there, maybe she'd hesitate..."
"Not afraid your mate's having a rough time, just afraid he's driving a Land Rover, right?" Cohen clicked his tongue.
"What's a Land Rover?" Ron asked curiously.
"I know this one," Harry said. "It's a car brand—my uncle used to rant about it. Pretty expensive, I think..."
"I don't know much about cars—sounds like something my dad would go on about." Ron shook his head. "Have you two decided who you're inviting?"
Harry didn't answer. He looked like he already had someone in mind.
"I've got my own methods," Cohen said mysteriously.
"Don't bluff. You haven't even talked to any girls," Ron hooked an arm around both Cohen and Harry's shoulders, grinning. He turned to Cohen first, "Okay, quick quiz—how many girls are there in Gryffindor's fourth year?"
"Who the heck keeps track of that?" Cohen replied, exasperated. "I'm not some kind of creep."
"I... might have an idea..." Harry said, a bit hesitant. "But I'm not sure I've got the guts to ask her..."
"You'll be fine." Ron, doing his best to suppress any trace of jealousy, reassured him. "You guys are champions. No girl's going to turn you down—they all want to lead the first dance!"
"Um... Cohen, right?"
Ron hadn't even finished his sentence when a girl ran up to them, her face flushed red as she stared at the hem of Cohen's robes.
"Do you have a date for the ball yet?"
"Uh? Who are you?"
Cohen was momentarily stunned—the girl wasn't from Gryffindor. In fact, she wasn't even from Hogwarts. She wore robes bearing the crest of Beauxbatons.
"I'm Colette—ah!" she gasped and bolted the moment she saw another group of Beauxbatons girls approaching from the far end of the hallway.
"See?" Ron said with open envy.
"Then go catch her," Cohen replied. "She's all yours. I've got someone in mind, so I'm not wasting time on anyone else."
"Seriously?" Ron looked skeptical. "Come on, there are things you can lie to your mates about, but don't lie to yourself..."
"You'll see at Christmas," Cohen said with a smirk.
As the Yule Ball drew closer, the number of girls asking out Cohen and Harry skyrocketed.
On Monday alone, at least a dozen girls approached them.
And it wasn't just fourth and third years—even fifth- and sixth-year girls were showing up.
The most terrifying were a pair of fifth-year girls who were both freakishly tall and had a look that said: Say no and we'll knock you out and drag you there anyway.
"To be fair, they're better-looking than the earlier ones," Ron said after he finished laughing.
"Their biceps are probably bigger than Harry's bum," Cohen shook his head. "You can't build happiness on fear, not even for one night..."
"Is my bum really that small? No—wait, is it that big?—No, that's not right either—" Harry started questioning himself mid-sentence. "She's at least a foot taller than me. Can you imagine me trying to dance with her? It'd be a disaster..."
"Anyway, I've got to find my planned date too," Cohen said after tossing his bag in the dormitory and skipping their usual Hagrid visit. "No time like the present."
He'd finally spotted a quiet window in the eighth-floor corridor. These days, even the Room of Requirement could only be accessed at night—during the day, even that dead-end hall was filled with chattering girls plotting who to ask out next.
"I heard about the Yule Ball," came a gossipy voice as Cohen stepped inside. The Earl, perched inside, grinned mischievously. "You look so lonely—couldn't find a girl, huh? Not surprising, what with you being a little Dementor and all—"
"I'm shy, okay? I don't dance with strangers," Cohen said, heading toward a desk where his suitcase sat.
"So what, you gonna take that little snake of yours?" The Earl followed him, delighted. "Dancing with a snake in front of everyone… You'd go viral, you know—"
The two of them disappeared into the suitcase. The castle inside was almost done—at least the shell was. Now came the long process of decorating.
Nearby, Norbert had begun building his own nest, though it was more of a messy pile of stones. Still, at least it had a hole.
"Or you could take a unicorn," the Earl circled overhead, teasing. "Just don't expect me to go! I don't dance with humans—especially not after you made me write thirteen essays! Unless you agree never to make me do owl-unworthy tasks again and pay me ten Galleons a month to visit my lady owls..."
"That last bit is your real goal, isn't it?" Cohen growled. "Essay writing is an owl's final destiny! And since when do owls demand salaries? You were a one-time purchase—no monthly fees!"
"In-app purchases are all part of an evil business model," the Earl said proudly.
"Making you do homework was part of my business model when I bought you." Cohen shot back with a smirk.