They stayed by the Black Lake until the ball ended.
When they returned to the castle, Ron was still waiting outside the Great Hall, while Lavender leaned sleepily against the wall, yawning.
"Harry, Hermione, you're finally back," Ron grumbled. "Where did you go?"
"Out on a date," Harry answered simply. "Maybe a trio isn't quite suitable."
Ron froze, then flushed bright red, waving his hands. "That's not what I meant! I wasn't thinking that! It's just… you two were gone for a while, and you missed a lot of stuff."
He was about to continue when they stepped into the light, and he finally saw them clearly.
"What's with you two?" Ron looked surprised. "Hermione, your face is so red—are you sick?"
Lavender instantly perked up, fully awake now.
Then Ron turned to Harry, his expression even more shocked. "And Harry, what happened to you? Your lips are—"
Lavender stomped on his foot before he could finish.
Ron yelped in pain. "What was that for?"
"Just tell them what happened at the ball," Lavender nudged him sharply. "Stop asking things you shouldn't."
Ron limped after Harry as they headed up the grand staircase. "Harry, you really missed a lot."
"Delacour's dance partner got beaten up—pinned to the ground and thrashed."
Lavender took over, her tone lively. "By his girlfriend—well, his ex-girlfriend now."
"They were supposed to attend the ball together, but the moment Fleur invited him, he ditched her. Then he got drunk and started shouting about how he wished Fleur would be his girlfriend instead. And, well… his ex heard him."
"Even Professor Flitwick couldn't stop it!"
"In the end, it was Professor McGonagall who stepped in and sent the guy to the hospital wing."
Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised glances.
Ron, energized by their reaction, kept going. "And Hagrid! Did you two see Hagrid while you were outside?"
Harry shook his head.
He had sensed Hagrid and Maxime's presence, but he hadn't wanted to disturb them—or himself.
"That's a shame," Ron sighed. "Hagrid came back crying his eyes out. He downed at least a dozen barrels of mead—enough that the house-elves had to bring him more."
"He was so drunk that he just clung to Dumbledore, sobbing. The Weird Sisters couldn't take it anymore and hit him with a Silencing Charm—took several tries before it actually worked."
Hermione frowned sympathetically. "It sounds like Hagrid's confession didn't go well."
"Confession? What confession?" Lavender's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
Hermione looked at Harry.
Harry answered simply, "Hagrid likes someone. You mean you haven't noticed? Practically the whole school knows."
He wasn't trying to expose Hagrid—it was just that Hagrid's behavior was far from subtle. In every Care of Magical Creatures lesson, he found ways to bring up Madame Maxime, endlessly praising the Beauxbatons Abraxans. Even the Thestrals helping with his classes had grown jealous, nipping at him for attention.
"Madame Maxime?" Lavender mused, a bit slow on the uptake.
Ron suddenly clapped his hands together. "That explains it!"
"No wonder Professor McGonagall wasn't mad—she was comforting him instead."
Lavender shook her head, displeased. "He should've prayed to Lady Delacour first before confessing. Fleur was furious tonight—her partner embarrassed her completely. There's no way she'd grant blessings to anyone right now."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look but decided against commenting.
Ron sighed. "I don't think Veela magic works that way."
"They just haven't discovered it yet!" Lavender said stubbornly, hands on her hips. "Fleur Delacour has already proven it—Veela do have this power!"
"She even brought you and Hermione together!"
Harry's voice was calm. "That was Hermione's doing."
Hermione blushed and squeezed his hand.
Lavender hesitated, then started counting on her fingers. "So, I succeeded because I'm Hermione's roommate? Meaning I've already absorbed some of her luck?"
Ron covered his face with his hands.
He had only been worried about finding a dance partner—someone asked him, and he accepted. Lavender wasn't bad-looking, either. Among the girls, she was one of the prettier ones… just maybe a bit odd.
She was one of the few at Hogwarts who was a die-hard fan of Trelawney.
—
They made their way back to the common room.
Hermione was reluctant to end the night. She stayed with Harry by the fire until the flames flickered low, then finally said goodnight and went to bed.
The next morning, she woke early, waiting for Harry to return from training. They curled up by the fireplace, reading together.
Ron woke up at noon, dragging his homework over.
He wrote for a while before looking up, his expression suspicious. "Something feels off."
"Just your imagination," Harry said, concise as ever.
Hermione nodded in agreement. "Focus on your homework. You still haven't finished that essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Ron groaned and went back to writing, looking miserable.
—
That evening, Harry led Hermione and Ron out of the common room, sneaking into an empty classroom.
He removed the Sorting Hat and set it on a table.
Then, reaching into his magically expanded pocket, he pulled out… his motorbike.
After all the preparations, it was finally time for the final step.
The Sorting Hat was ecstatic. "Harry, it's finally happening? But be gentle—I've never done this before."
Harry pressed it flat against the table. "Does Godric know you talk like this?"
Ron and Hermione were completely lost.
The Sorting Hat chuckled. "Godric was the same—Salazar was even more proper than him."
Harry raised his wand, aiming at the hat. "Stay still."
The Sorting Hat obediently froze.
As a magical artifact imbued with the consciousness of four founders, it was extremely resistant to spells. Even for Harry, who had consulted both Godric and Dumbledore multiple times, it had taken careful study to reach this point.
A gentle tap of his wand—
A complex, ancient alchemical array flared to life. Runes covered the surface, so dense that just glancing at them made Ron dizzy.
Harry worked carefully, making sure not to disrupt any layers of the spell.
It was like extracting a memory. A silver thread-like wisp emerged, drawn out by his wand.
He whispered an incantation.
Within the Sorting Hat, another alchemical array activated, duplicating the thread of consciousness. Soon, the duplicate wove itself back into the hat's core—just as Godric had planned long ago, in case a replacement was ever needed.
This saved Harry a lot of trouble.
With the essence safely stored, he placed it in a vial and handed it to Hermione.
Then, moving to his motorbike, he activated one enchantment after another, igniting each alchemical circuit.
At last, all that remained was the core.
Hermione passed him the vial.
Carefully, Harry poured the consciousness into the motorbike's core.
A deep, ancient energy surged into the machine.
"It's done," Harry said softly.
The Sorting Hat opened its eyes, wiggling slightly. "That's it? I barely felt anything—like a mosquito bite."
Then, looking at the motorbike, it murmured, "So… this is my new body?"
"Want to try it out?" Harry extended a hand, inviting it.
A swirl of magical energy shifted.
With a whoosh, the Sorting Hat's consciousness flowed into the motorbike.
With a click, the headlights flickered to life. "Huh—this perspective is weird. Too bright."
"Try the low beams," Harry suggested.
"Give me a moment to figure this out."
A hum—
Then, suddenly, the bike lurched forward—straight toward Ron.
Harry reacted instantly, flicking his wand to suspend it mid-air.
Ron slammed into the wall, clutching his chest. "What the bloody hell—! I wash you, you ungrateful hat!"
"Sorry, just getting used to it," the Sorting Hat muttered. "So this makes it go forward—what about this?"
A horn blared.
"Aha! That's loud!"
It started experimenting with other buttons—turn signals, headlights, everything.
Just then—
BANG!
The door burst open.
"Let's see which little troublemaker is—" Filch cackled, stepping inside.
Then he froze, staring blankly at them.
"Oh. Mr. Potter. You?"
Ron instinctively hid behind Harry.
"Sorry to disturb you," Harry said smoothly, without a hint of guilt. "Just a small experiment. I'll be showing it to Professor Dumbledore tomorrow."
"Dumbledore, you say?" Filch's expression softened. "Well then—I won't interfere."
With that, he shut the door and left.
Harry patted the motorbike. "Let's wait until tomorrow. You make too much noise—Filch was easy to handle, but if we attract other professors, you won't be using this body for a while."
The Sorting Hat grumbled but relented.
As its consciousness returned to the hat, it sighed, "My new body is magnificent."
Harry packed everything away.
Then, just as they were about to leave—
"Wait!" the Sorting Hat called out. "Take me to the Headmaster's office! I must show off to Godric!"
Harry smirked. "Tomorrow—you'll be there anyway."
With a flick of his wand, he summoned his Patronus and sent the hat on its way.
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Powerstones?
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