The Girl Who Changed Everything

Olivia Middleton's POV

Hermione, Ginny, and I are getting ready in our dorm. The music blaring from the Great Hall echoes all the way up here—my voice, my recordings, filling the entire castle. Loud enough to reach the Black Lake, probably loud enough to wake the merpeople. I grin a little at the thought.

Between the three of us, I'm the only one who knows how to actually do makeup and hair, so naturally, I'm the designated stylist for the evening. I start with Ginny—she's easy to work with and grins at her reflection when I'm done. Hermione's a bit trickier, but we're taming her curls tonight. I already applied Sleekeazy's Hair Potion earlier, and now that it's settled, her hair falls in smooth, elegant waves. She looks radiant.

Once they're satisfied and ready, the girls head out, leaving me alone in the dorm.

I sit at my vanity, taking a breath. My dress waits for me, a strapless black ball gown with a touch of enchantment I added earlier. Nothing too showy—just enough magic to catch the light in the right way. I go to work on my face: light eyeshadow, a precise winged liner, pink blush across my cheeks, highlighter on my nose and cheekbones, and a nude lipstick to finish it off. I pin my hair up in a messy but elegant bun, two loose strands framing my face, and clip a vintage brooch to the side. Since my hair's up, I go with hoops—simple, bold, perfect.

I stand and pull the gown from my closet. Once it's on, I step in front of the mirror and take a long, quiet look.

My heart starts to race. What will Cedric think when he sees me? What will everyone else say? Hermione and Ginny haven't even seen the dress. A little part of me panics. What if I went overboard?

I glance at the clock. 7:59. He's probably waiting right outside the common room. I slip on my black heels, grab my clutch, and head out.

A group of first years are lounging in the common room. The moment I step down the stairs, they all look up—and one girl gasps. "Olivia," she says, "you look really pretty." I smile at her, warmth blooming in my chest. "Thank you, sweetheart." Then I step out the portrait door.

And there he is. Cedric Diggory, standing like a scene from a dream. My Prince Charming. He's in sleek black dress robes with a perfectly tied bow, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly handsome. When the portrait opens, he turns—and the way his mouth parts slightly makes my breath catch. But then, his expression freezes. I can't read it.

Is he... not impressed? Did I mess something up? Is it my makeup? My hair? Merlin, do I look awful?

"Ced," I say nervously, walking up to him. "Please say something." He blinks, then exhales. "You look..." He trails off, and I raise my eyebrows at him expectantly. "...Angelic," he finishes. "Or might I even say, godly." I laugh, relief flooding through me. "Thank you, Ced. You don't look bad yourself."

He grins and offers his arm. "Shall we?" I loop my hand through his. "We shall." As we walk, I glance at him. "You know, my dress has a little magic in it." He raises a brow and adjusts his bow tie. "Does it?" I nod, playful. "Yup."

"May I know what kind of magic?" We pause so he can fix his shoe, and I stifle a smile. "Nope. It's a surprise." He sighs, amused. "You're impossible."

"You do know how to dance, right?" I tease, watching him straighten up.

"Yes, but not better than you. Honestly, I think every boy in that hall wants to dance with you tonight. Everyone's heard about your dancing. And the way you look tonight..." He whistles softly. "You're going to be dancing all night."

"Stop," I say, blushing. "You're exaggerating."

We reach the staircase that leads to the Great Hall. I stop. My stomach twists. He turns to me. "What is it?"

"I'm just... nervous," I admit, fidgeting with the fabric of my dress.

Cedric steps in close and gently cups my cheeks. "Hey. Stop being nervous. And stop fiddling with your dress. You look absolutely gorgeous. Just get ready to see a bunch of shocked faces in about ten seconds."

I take a deep breath.

We step forward together, descending into the night.

As soon as we walk down the stairs, heads start turning. A ripple of gasps follows us, and I catch Cho whispering to someone, "She looks beautiful." That's how you know you really nailed it—when a girl says it out loud.

I'm walking with my hand on Cedric's arm, our steps slow, measured. He looks at me, grinning like he already knew this would happen. That I'd stop the room. And judging by the stunned faces around us, he was right.

At the base of the staircase, I spot Harry staring—just staring—as if he's never seen me before. I wave, a little teasingly. He doesn't even blink. I raise an eyebrow. "Harry?" He finally snaps out of it, flashing a grin. "You look absolutely gorgeous."

"You look handsome too," I say, stepping closer to fix his crooked bowtie. "There. Much better." Before he can respond, Professor McGonagall rushes over, parchment in hand. "Ah, there you are! And very late," she says, eyeing us sternly but with a glimmer of fondness.

We quickly gather for the procession, exchanging quick handshakes. I even shake Hermione's, and she giggles sweetly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

The Great Hall doors are closed now, everyone already inside. It's just us, the champions and their dates, lined up and waiting. "Now," McGonagall says briskly, "First Miss Delacour, then Mr. Krum, followed by Mr. Diggory... and finally, Mr. Potter."

Cedric turns to me and offers his arm. I loop mine through his, grounding myself with a deep breath. The doors creak open.

Music spills out into the corridor, and together we walk in. The chandeliers shimmer above us, the crowd already murmuring. As we make our way down the aisle, Cedric leans in and whispers, "Yup. Definitely the prettiest."

I blush, biting my lip to keep from grinning too widely. He smirks at his friends—clearly enjoying their stunned expressions. We take our positions. I glance at him and murmur, "Wanna see the magic?" He nods, intrigued. He bows slightly and offers his hand. "May I?"

"Place your hand on my waist," I whisper back. The moment his palm touches my waist, the black fabric of my dress shimmers, shifts, and blooms into a vibrant Hufflepuff yellow.

A collective gasp echoes through the hall—students, teachers, everyone. Cedric steps back slightly to take it in. "Woah," he breathes, eyes wide, utterly enchanted.

I smile at him. The music swells. We begin to dance.

We start with the box step, our bodies moving in a smooth circle. The transitions are seamless—we switch hand positions, flow across the floor like it's second nature. Cedric looks a little nervous at first, with so many eyes on us, but as the music carries us, he relaxes.

He locks eyes with me, his voice low. "Jump." I do—and he lifts me easily by the waist, twirling me midair before lowering me gently back down.

The eight of us complete the first song, and when it ends, the room erupts in applause. Soon, students and even some teachers flood the floor.

I dance a few more songs with Cedric, laughing and light on my feet. Then comes the switching dance—the one where partners rotate with the music. I spin away from Cedric and into the arms of someone else.

Every time someone new touches my waist, my dress transforms—Hufflepuff yellow turns to Ravenclaw blue, then to Gryffindor red.

No green.

I'm so caught up in the rhythm that I don't see who my next partner is. I'm mid-spin with Rafael, smiling wide, when he passes me to—

Draco Malfoy.

The second his hand touches my waist, the fabric of my dress ripples and deepens into an emerald Slytherin green. Gasps erupt again. Even I gasp. "Finally," he says, taking my hand smoothly. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to dance with you, darling."

I don't answer—just blush furiously.

He twirls me effortlessly, his grin wicked. "What did I tell you, Middleton? The prettiest girl here. You look alluring, magnificent, appealing, elegant, graceful, classy, ravishing—"

"Are you going to list every synonym for 'beautiful'?" I cut in, laughing. "And it still wouldn't be enough," he replies, not missing a beat. I roll my eyes. "Thank you, Malfoy. You look charming today."

"Well, I look charming every day," he says with a smirk.

We dance a few more steps—graceful spins, sharp turns. The music swells, and with a final dip, the song ends. We bow to each other.

I turn to head back to Cedric, but before I can take a step, Draco grabs my wrist and pulls me right back into his arms.

"Another song," he says with a sly smile. "I'm not finished with you yet."