The Marauders | Valentine's Ball | Prologue

[February 11 - 4:35 PM - 3 days until the ball]]

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The courtyard was full of students under the early spring sun. The flowers around were starting to wake up with the end of winter, and bees were flying around looking for the first pollen of the year. A group of fifth-years had claimed the spot near the fountain, sprawled on the warm stones with books they weren't really reading. A few couples walked lazily along the covered corridors, and somewhere near the greenhouses, a radio was playing the Weird Sisters' latest hit.

Saturday had stretched long and uneventful. By midday, the Marauders had already exhausted their usual pastimes. Chess had ended in Sirius flipping the board, Gobstones had lost its appeal after Peter got sprayed in the face twice, and James had been firmly rejected from "casually" walking past Lily Evans for the fourth time that week.

With the prank for the Valentine's Ball already planned, it was Peter who broke the boredom, his eyes lighting up with an idea he'd seen in a Muggle magazine his mum had left lying around.

"What if we did a date game? You know, like on the wireless, but live?"

James's head snapped up, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Wormtail. Wormtail. Do you realize what you've just done?" He grabbed Peter by the shoulders. "You've saved this Saturday. You've saved all of us."

"I have?"

"A date game," Sirius repeated, already pacing, his mind clearly three steps ahead. "Anonymous voices. Dramatic tension. A crowd of adoring fans watching us be effortlessly charming." He stopped, turned, and pointed at Peter with the gravity of a general addressing his troops. "This is the best idea you've ever had. Possibly the best idea anyone has ever had."

Peter flushed with pride.

Remus looked up from his book with the weary expression of someone who already knew he'd be dragged into this. "And who exactly is going to—"

"You're in, Moony. Non-negotiable," Sirius said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Within the hour, they'd commandeered an empty corner of the courtyard. James transfigured some old crates into a raised platform while Sirius conjured four tall partitions (slightly uneven), but standing. Peter arranged the stools behind each one, counting under his breath to make sure there were enough.

The commotion drew attention. A few curious second-years stopped to watch. Then a cluster of Ravenclaws. By the time the stage looked semi-presentable, a small crowd had begun to gather, murmuring and pointing. And then, inevitably, he appeared.

Gilderoy Lockhart swept across the courtyard with the confidence of someone who had never once doubted his own importance. His robes were immaculate, his smile blinding, and before anyone could stop him, he had planted himself at the front of the stage.

"A Date Game! How delightful!" He clasped his hands together. "You'll be needing a presenter, of course. Someone with charisma. Stage presence. A voice that commands attention."

"We were actually going to—" Peter started.

"Say no more." Lockhart held up a hand. "I accept."

Sirius looked at James. James looked back. There was a silent conversation happening at high speed: Is this happening? This is happening. Do we stop it? Can we stop it? Do we want to?. On one hand, Lockhart was insufferable. On the other hand, this was going to be hilarious.

"...Sure," James said, grinning. "He's all yours, Lockhart."

The four Marauders took their places behind the partitions, each settling onto a stool. They pressed their wands to their throats, murmuring the incantation, a Sonorus with a twist Sirius had added to distort their voices just enough to make them unrecognizable. From behind the wooden screens, they could hear the crowd growing, the hum of chatter and laughter swelling in the spring air.

Lockhart straightened his robes, ran a hand through his golden curls, and turned to face his audience.

"Welcome, welcome to our first Date Game!" He didn't need an enchantment to make his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "I'm your host, the dashing Gilderoy Lockhart, and behind these partitions we have four mysterious bachelors ready to win your heart—or at least make you laugh trying!"

By now, the crowd had doubled. Students sat cross-legged on the grass, perched on the edges of planters, leaned against the stone columns of the corridor. Near the fountain, Lily Evans stood with her arms crossed, watching with a mixture of amusement and suspicion. Marlene nudged her with a grin.

"The rules are simple," Lockhart continued, flashing his teeth at a group of third-year girls who giggled on cue. "Our brave contestant will ask questions to our hidden bachelors. They cannot see each other; only hear those mysteriously altered voices. At the end, they'll choose one for a date to THE VALENTINE'S BALL!"

Behind partition one, James was already fidgeting, his stool creaking dangerously as he shifted his weight. In partition two, Sirius had conjured a small mirror and was checking his hair, force of habit, even if no one could see him. Remus sat in partition three with his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands, quietly questioning every life choice that had led him here. Peter, in partition four, was mumbling practice answers under his breath, trying to decide if "I like long walks" sounded romantic or boring.

"Now then," Lockhart beamed, gesturing dramatically toward the lone stool at the left of the stage, "who will be our first lucky contestant?"

His blue eyes scanned the crowd with theatrical intensity. Then, with a grin that promised mischief, he made an exaggerated flourish and called out—

"{{user}}! Come forward!"