Hogwarts Great Hall, Christmas Eve Party.
The Great Hall was a dazzling sight. Christmas trees stood tall and proud, adorned with twinkling ornaments and shimmering tinsel. Floating candles cast a warm glow across the room, while enchanted lights danced above like tiny shooting stars. The air buzzed with excitement as the young wizards shared laughter and exchanged their Christmas wishes.
"Tomorrow's a holiday! I'm going to visit my family," one student exclaimed, his face alight with joy.
"I'm hoping for the newest wizarding toy set," said another, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Wouldn't it be amazing if someone gave me a Firebolt?" a third chimed in, his voice tinged with longing.
For these young witches and wizards, the holiday season was a time of pure magic—a break from studies and a chance to revel in the festivities.
Professor McGonagall watched the lively Gryffindor students with a rare smile gracing her usually stern face. The sight of Harry, Hermione, and the other Gryffindor lions laughing and chatting warmed her heart.
"Sprout," McGonagall said, turning to the Hufflepuff head, "Cedric has been performing exceptionally well. He's earned quite a number of points for your house recently."
Professor Sprout chuckled, her lips twitching in a mix of pride and modesty. "Oh, Minerva, must we talk about Cedric? Everyone knows Hermione Granger has been racking up points for Gryffindor left and right."
Though her tone was playful, Sprout's words carried a hint of rivalry. Her praise of Cedric felt less like boasting and more like a subtle acknowledgment of Gryffindor's achievements.
Before McGonagall could respond, Sprout shifted the conversation. "By the way, Minerva, I heard that Lockhart is leaving Hogwarts. Did you try to persuade him to stay? His teaching methods, eccentric as they are, have been quite effective."
McGonagall's smile faltered, replaced by a look of resignation. "There's little we can do, Pomona," she admitted with a sigh. "Lockhart has his sights set on something much larger—a new magical school where he will serve as headmaster. That opportunity is far more appealing than remaining a professor here."
Sprout tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "And what did the headmaster say about it? Surely Dumbledore could convince him to stay."
McGonagall shook her head slightly, signaling the end of the discussion. Her gaze drifted to the enchanted ceiling, where snowflakes drifted lazily. "It's best not to dwell on it," she said, steering the conversation toward Sprout's flourishing greenhouses. The mention of her cherished plants instantly brightened Sprout's demeanor, allowing McGonagall a moment of reprieve.
Meanwhile, Flitwick cast a wary glance at Snape, who stood nearby in his usual black robes. Something about Snape felt… different.
He's been acting strange lately, Flitwick thought, his sharp duelist instincts picking up on subtle changes in Snape's aura. The Potions Master seemed distant, his gaze fixed on a point far beyond the festivities.
"Severus, how have you been?" Flitwick asked cautiously.
It took several attempts before Snape registered the question. Turning his cold, dark eyes toward Flitwick, he replied, "The same as always. Nothing worth mentioning."
Flitwick frowned at the curt response, unsure how to proceed. The silence between them stretched uncomfortably as Snape's thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Should I stay at Hogwarts, Snape pondered, or join Lockhart at the new school?
The decision weighed heavily on him. Remaining at Hogwarts meant staying under Dumbledore's watchful eye, which had its advantages. It offered access to valuable information and the familiar comfort of routine.
But the new school promised something different—an opportunity to teach young minds without the entanglements of Hogwarts' politics. It was a tempting prospect, especially now that his primary reason for staying—Dumbledore's connection to Lily—no longer held sway.
Yet, there was an unsettling thought lurking in the back of his mind. If he joined Lockhart, his value would be reduced to his expertise in potions and teaching. Is that all I am worth? he wondered bitterly.
His internal debate was interrupted by the jubilant cries of students.
"The headmaster's here!"
"It's starting!"
Cheers erupted as Dumbledore stepped onto the stage, his presence commanding the attention of the entire hall. The students and professors fell silent as the headmaster raised his hands, his twinkling blue eyes surveying the crowd.
"Good evening, everyone," Dumbledore began, his voice amplified by a gentle Sonorus charm. "It seems tonight's festivities are a resounding success! Each of you has contributed to making this party truly magical."
He paused, his smile widening. "But I suspect most of you are eagerly awaiting tomorrow's holiday. Rest assured, arrangements have been made for those traveling home, ensuring you'll spend Christmas with your loved ones."
The hall erupted in applause, the students' excitement reaching a fever pitch.
As the applause subsided, Dumbledore's expression turned mischievous. "Now, I know none of you came here to listen to an old man ramble on a festive evening. So, without further ado, let's welcome Professor Lockhart, who will present tonight's first program!"
As Dumbledore's words fell, all the young wizards turned their eager eyes toward the stage, searching for any sign of Professor Lockhart. Yet, to their surprise, Lockhart was nowhere to be seen among the professors seated at the high table.
Dumbledore, calm as ever, descended from the stage and took a seat beside Snape.
Suddenly, without warning—
Buzz!
The Great Hall was plunged into complete darkness.
Shrieks of surprise and confusion echoed throughout the room as students clutched their neighbors in the sudden blackness.
But the darkness lasted only a moment. Slowly, silvery-white specks of light began to appear, floating gently above the Hall like stars emerging in the night sky. The spots of light moved in mesmerizing patterns, some clustering densely together, others spreading out sparsely.
"It's beautiful," whispered a first-year, gazing upward in awe. "That one looks like a giant crab!"
"No, it looks like a dragon," countered another.
"Look over there—it's a hippogriff!"
The silver-white lights shimmered and shifted, forming shapes of magical creatures that seemed to come alive. The sight drew gasps and cheers from the students as they pointed out new shapes appearing in the cosmic display above them.
The professors exchanged intrigued glances. Unlike the students, they could sense the powerful magic radiating from the lights.
"The Patronus Charm," McGonagall murmured, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "I didn't expect Lockhart to have mastered it to this degree."
Beside her, Professors Flitwick and Sprout nodded in agreement, their expressions tinged with surprise. It wasn't just the visual brilliance of the charm; the lights carried a potent, positive energy that enveloped the Hall.
"It's remarkable," Flitwick said softly. "Though, given Lockhart's skill, perhaps not entirely unexpected."
Dumbledore watched the display with a serene smile. Yet, as the lights above illuminated the Hall, a fleeting shadow of concern passed over his features. Lockhart's slogan, "Make Wizards Great Again!", had reminded Dumbledore of past ambitions gone astray. But the sheer purity of the magic on display—the essence of the Patronus Charm—was reassuring.
For a wizard to wield this spell, their heart must hold true intentions, Dumbledore mused.
Snape, seated beside him, remained silent, his expression unreadable. The headmaster, accustomed to Snape's detached demeanor, paid little mind to the subtle tension radiating from him.
As the students marveled at the lights above, the silvery spots began to descend slowly, drifting like snowflakes.
A hush fell over the Hall as the light touched the students. Wherever the specks landed, they spread warmth and serenity.
"Wow," a third-year whispered, his voice tinged with wonder. "I feel so… calm."
The light seemed to wash away hidden fears and negative emotions, leaving behind an unshakable sense of peace and joy.
Then—
Buzz!
From the center of the Hall, a radiant silver-white beam of light burst forth, illuminating the stage. At the center of the light stood Professor Lockhart, his dark green robes shimmering in the glow.
The students erupted in cheers as Lockhart raised his wand to his throat and cast a simple Sonorus charm.
"Dear students," he began, his voice carrying warmth and mirth, "this is my Christmas gift to all of you. Tell me—do you like it?"
The response was immediate and enthusiastic.
"We love it!"
"Thank you, Professor Lockhart!"
Lockhart's lips curved into a soft smile as he lifted his wand again. The floating lights above began to converge, spiraling downward to form a new shape. Within moments, a magnificent silver lion emerged in the middle of the Hall.
The lion's silvery fur shimmered with texture so lifelike it seemed tangible.
"Roar!"
The lion let out a low, majestic growl as it sprang into motion. Above it, a silver sphere of light appeared, and the lion leapt toward it with a playful swat of its paw.
The creature's movements were fluid and mesmerizing. It crouched as if preparing to pounce, then leapt high into the air, twisting gracefully to chase the glowing orb. The whimsical display drew laughter and applause from the students, who were utterly captivated.
Eventually, the lion padded down the central aisle of the Hall, making its way toward Lockhart. As it approached, Lockhart opened his arms as if to embrace the magical beast.
Effortlessly, Lockhart climbed onto the lion's back, riding it regally as it walked between the tables.
Each time Lockhart passed a table, he tapped its center with his wand. A beautifully wrapped gift box appeared, eliciting delighted gasps from the students.
By the time Lockhart returned to the stage, every table in the Hall was adorned with a gift box.
With a final wave of his wand, the silver lion dissolved into a cascade of shimmering lights that floated upward and faded into the ceiling. The Hall brightened once more, its enchanted candles flickering to life.
"Dear students," Lockhart announced, "inside these boxes, you'll find an assortment of gifts I've prepared for you—delicious snacks, unique magical items, and even a few spells of my own creation. Feel free to open them after the party and enjoy."
The students burst into cheers once again, their excitement filling the Hall.
Dumbledore stepped forward, his expression warm but tinged with solemnity. "I have an announcement to make," he began. "Professor Lockhart will be stepping down as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor after Christmas. Professor Snape will take over the class in the new term."
A ripple of disappointment spread through the Hall. Many students exchanged glances, saddened by the news.
Lockhart addressed them once more. "Although I won't be here as your professor, know that I am always willing to help. If you have questions about Defense Against the Dark Arts or need advice, you can write to me anytime."
The younger students looked reassured, while some of the older ones smirked, whispering about fewer test papers in the future.
Lockhart stepped down from the stage and returned to his seat beside Dumbledore, who leaned in with a question.
"Lockhart, have you finalized the location of your school?"
Lockhart smiled mysteriously. "I have, Headmaster. I think you'll be quite surprised."
Dumbledore chuckled. "I look forward to it. You can count on me to attend the opening ceremony."
Their conversation was interrupted by the flutter of wings. An owl swooped into the Hall, landing before Dumbledore with an envelope.
As Dumbledore read the letter, his expression darkened.
Lockhart noticed the change and leaned closer. "Is something wrong, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore's voice was grave. "Lockhart, it appears Gellert Grindelwald has taken over Ilvermorny in the United States."
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