The frenzy surrounding the Christmas Ball was just as Mavrick had imagined, like Valentine's Day come early and stubbornly refusing to pass.
But it was also nearing the end of the first term, which meant the students still needed to be assessed on what they had learned so far.
Under normal circumstances, this would have meant a full round of exams and mounting stress across the castle. However, with the tournament ongoing, it was agreed beforehand that things would be taken easy.
So rather than the usual grueling schedule, students faced only a small written exam in each subject, enough to track their progress without unnecessary stress. Anyways, it was only the midterms.
As a result, a full week before Christmas Eve, all tests were concluded, and the Christmas break was also announced ahead of schedule. Anyone who wished to return home were permitted to leave ahead of time.
In fact, the school arranged two trips in total. The first left shortly after the holidays were announced, but the train departed nearly empty, with just a few students scattered through the carriages. Out of the thousand students in the castle, only around a hundred chose to leave, and most of them were first- or second-years.
As for the older students, whoever left early was most likely someone who lacked the confidence to secure a partner for the dance. Alas.
The second trip was set for after the Yule Ball, and most students chose to leave on that train. It was a rare week for everyone, at least for the students of Hogwarts. There were no classes at all and no homework to worry about.
---
From his office window, Mavrick watched with Isabella as the castle grounds came alive. Students scattered across the grounds, laughter ringing through the cold air as snowballs flew back and forth in careless battles.
The night brought heavy snowfall, but by morning the sky had cleared, the sun shining brightly and turning the grounds into a glittering field of white.
The Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, its rigging coated in white frost, while the pale blue Beauxbatons carriage sat nearby like an enormous, frozen pumpkin. Beside it, Hagrid's cabin looked like an iced gingerbread house, buried under snow and rimmed with frost.
And speaking of Hagrid, Mavrick had been genuinely surprised to learn, just a few days earlier, that the half-giant had managed to receive a positive answer from his equally towering counterpart, Olympe Maxime, to attend the ball together.
He had known the big man would ask. He and Isabella had even helped him prepare for it, giving Hagrid a complete makeover. His usual rugged, borderline barbaric, vaguely homeless appearance had been carefully refined into something far more presentable. Isabella had chosen the clothes, while Mavrick took charge of his hair and beard.
What? An archmage could be professional in other things too.
Anyways, by the time they were finished, Hagrid, though still enormous, looked handsome enough to turn more than a few heads. And to his credit, the man had been brave enough to follow through. During breakfast, right in the middle of the Great Hall, Hagrid had asked her outright. For her part, Olympe Maxime accepted quickly, without ceremony or hesitation.
Whether it was courtesy, shared blood as fellow half-giants, or genuine interest, no one could say for certain. Regardless, the castle buzzed with gossip about the incident for the rest of the day, most people praising Hagrid for his courage.
And Hagrid's pairing was not the only surprise Mavrick had witnessed over the past few days. Many arrangements had turned out differently from the original story.
For one, Harry was somehow going with Miss Know-It-All herself. It turned out they had been quietly crushing on each other for some time, completely unaware until the Yule Ball forced their feelings to surface. It was an interesting development, to say the least.
And then there was Ron. In the original story, he had been brutally rejected by Fleur, be that as it may, it was magic at play that had pushed him to ask her in the first place, a moment that ended in nothing but thorough embarrassment.
Nothing of the sort happened in this timeline. Of course, Ron did not ask Fleur to be his partner. Instead, he approached the other witch, the other Beauxbatons champion, and somehow managed to bag her agreement with surprising ease.
Some other pairings that caught his attention were Roger Davies and Jean. Fleur was apparently attending with Cedric. As for Cho Chang, who in the original timeline had been his partner, she had ended up with another boy from her own house.
It was indeed some interesting turn of events. He had little idea how things had unfolded, nor had he truly bothered to find out, having paid scant attention to the students and their movements while spending his time with Isabella.
"Ricky…"
The soft call broke his train of thought. Isabella stood in front of him, nestled against his chest, her back to him as they faced the window together. His chin rested over her head, his arms loosely but securely wrapped around her waist.
He hummed softly in response. Isabella turned in his arms, wrapping her hands behind his neck until she was looking up at him, her eyes searching his face.
"After this," she said quietly. "After all of this is over. I mean… with that evil wizard and everything. Are we going to get married?"
Mavrick raised a brow, momentarily caught off guard, before his expression softened. He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, and smiled.
"Of course," he said gently. "Summer next year, just like we agreed. Nothing is going to get in the way of our wedding."
Isabella smiled at that and pressed herself closer, hugging his chest. "I hope everything goes according to your plan," she murmured. "There will be so much noise. You will be at the center of the world's attention. I would not mind, you know, if we delayed the date."
"Bella," Mavrick said, pulling back just enough to lift her chin. He kissed her softly before meeting her eyes again. "I mean it. No Dark Lord and not even the ICW will get in the way of us getting married. Trust me. I have everything under control."
He drew her back into his arms, her head resting against his chest once more. His gaze then drifted past the window and into the distance, where a dark cloud loomed on the horizon, threatening to disrupt the brief stretch of sunshine in the heart of winter.
Everything was proceeding according to the script. At least for this winter break, there was little that required his direct intervention. The only real variable, Vinda Rosier, had already been dealt with, and he couldn't think of anything else that might go wrong.
And yet, perhaps because Isabella had brought it up, an unsettling feeling stirred deep within him. He could not quite place it, only that something felt off.
---
Evening finally arrived, bringing with it the long-anticipated Yule Ball. When the doors of the Great Hall opened, the space beyond was almost unrecognizable. Its walls gleamed beneath a layer of shimmering silver frost, the gentle glow turning stone and shadow into something magical and otherworldly.
The banners of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons hung along the walls, their colors moving gently with the light, standing as a subtle reminder of the unity between the three schools.
Overhead, the ceiling had transformed into a sweeping winter night sky. Snowflakes drifted slowly through the air, vanishing before they could reach the floor, while hundreds of fairies danced above, filling the space with bursts of shimmering color.
Mavrick stood at the entrance with Isabella tucked comfortably at his side, her arm looped through his as they took in the scene before them.
For the occasion, he wore a tailored black tuxedo, simple and sharp in its clean lines. Isabella matched him perfectly in a sleek, modern gown of deep midnight blue, the fabric catching the light like polished glass. The dress was elegant rather than extravagant, fitted at the waist with subtle silver detailing along the neckline, a quiet nod to the winter theme of the night.
They had arrived early. No students had entered yet, and only the staff were present.
The familiar four House tables were gone, replaced by hundreds of small round tables arranged neatly across the hall. Each one was lit by an antique magical lantern, its warm glow catching on the gold-threaded tablecloths. Delicate menus lay at every seat, offering dishes inspired by kitchens from across the wizarding world.
At the far end of the hall stood the raised head table, arranged with formal elegance. Dumbledore sat near the middle, the seat beside him clearly meant for Professor McGonagall. Olympe Maxime and Hagrid were seated nearby.
Karkaroff, meanwhile, sat stiffly beside Snape, whether by design or because they were somehow each other's dancing partners, who could say?
The rest of the Hogwarts staff filled the remaining seats, many of them seated in pairs, man and woman side by side, sharing easy smiles and quiet conversation.
And finally, in front of the head table stood another long table, set slightly lower, reserved exclusively for the champions.
With their arms locked, Mavrick led Isabella toward the teachers' table, his gaze drifting around the hall as he took in the remarkable work that had transformed the space for the evening.
The seating was neatly arranged and labeled, making it easy to find their places beside Dumbledore and McGonagall's reserved seat. They settled in, exchanging greetings with colleagues dressed far more fashionably than usual.
Even Snape was dressed properly for once, trading his usual bargain-bin Dracula look for a formal suit. His hair, too, looked uncharacteristically neat and glossy. Or a little too glossy.
Did the old bat empty an entire tin of hair gel? Mavrick wondered, suppressing a smile.
"Where is Professor McGonagall?"
"Seeing to the students and champions for their entrance," Dumbledore replied pleasantly. He then turned to Isabella, his eyes twinkling. "My dear, you look absolutely radiant this evening."
"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore," she replied warmly.
Time passed slowly in quiet conversation before the great doors swung open again. Students entered in pairs, dressed in formal suits and flowing dresses, moving neatly toward the small round tables as a low wave of murmurs rolled through the hall.
Outside, Professor McGonagall's voice rang as she addressed the champions. "...prepare yourselves. Ladies, take your escort's arm and follow me."
The procession began. Led by Professor McGonagall, the champions entered the hall next, walking between the tables toward their reserved seats. The moment they appeared, the hall erupted in thunderous applause, cheers filling every corner of the vast space.
At the teachers' table, Isabella leaned toward Mavrick's ear.
"Look at your student, Harry," she murmured. "He's stiff as a board. Even swinging one arm looks like a challenge."
She smiled softly before adding, "I remember you being quite the charmer... even wrote me a whole song. Why don't you give him a few pointers, hm? That girl beside him looks genuinely happy."
Mavrick's brow twitched as an old, cringy memory surfaced. "Let's not get involved," he said. "They're just kids."
With the champions seated, the feast flowed naturally into motion. Dishes appeared and vanished in steady waves, plates filling, emptying, and filling again as laughter and conversation carried through the hall. Nearly an hour passed in a warm blur of voices, clinking cutlery, and shared smiles.
Then, as the final plates were cleared away, Dumbledore rose to his feet, lifted his wand with calm ease, and in a single, fluid motion, every small round table disappeared. Where they had stood moments before, a wide, open space stretched across the heart of the hall.
The dance floor was ready.
—————————
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