The Great Hall had been lit with hundreds of floating candles, the soft glow illuminating the attentive faces of the students. An orderly group of young witches and wizards from all the houses were standing in front of them all, forming a half-circle. A Slytherin was standing in between two Gryffindors, and a Ravenclaw was slightly pressing her arm against a Hufflepuff’s side. House didn’t matter here. All that mattered was the music.
Professor Flitwick raised his baton. The choir took a deep breath.
The beautiful melodies swirled about the Great Hall, the student body speechless and spellbound. At the Hufflepuff table, a dark-haired sixth year looked rather taken aback, his thick eyebrows knitted together. He was near the front, and, although the choir as a whole impressed him, one member had completely captivated his attention.
A fair-skinned, impeccably dressed Slytherin was singing his heart out. The Hufflepuff’s own heart was acting strangely. There was something about the way the Slytherin put his whole self into the song. There was something about the way he swayed ever so slightly. There was something about the way his eyes held such energy and defiance.
He froze. Those eyes were looking into his, and the sparks in that gaze were enough to make his stomach do a somersault. He felt like he had been cursed with a Body Bind.
As the song ended, he leaned over to his fellow Hufflepuff. “Hey, Duval, who’s that Slytherin in the choir?” he whispered just before the student body erupted into applause.
Nick looked at the bowing choir. “That’s Hummel, mate. He’s a seventh year,” he yelled over the applause. “He’s not that bad, for a Slytherin! Why’re you asking, Anderson?”
Blaine didn’t answer. He had to meet this Hummel.