Marcus completed the task with precision, and the designated students quickly assembled around Moriarty.
"What's the plan this time, sir?" Charlie asked with a grin. The old Weasley family robe he wore made him stand out awkwardly, but Charlie didn't seem to mind at all.
While appearances do influence first impressions, Charlie had long moved past the insecurities that once stemmed from his family's poverty. Back then, it had been Quidditch that lifted him from the shadows. Now, after spending time around Moriarty, he understood the real value of power.
If he possessed true skill, what were image and Galleons in comparison?
If Moriarty hadn't requested him to come alone, Charlie would've gladly brought the Weasley twins to learn from him. They needed to understand—pranks shouldn't exist solely for humor. They should aim for meaning, emotion—impact.
Charlie was certain Moriarty had something brilliant in mind again.
Sure enough, Moriarty tapped the ground with his staff, casting a muffling charm to shield their conversation from prying ears. Then he announced solemnly, "Today is a day worth remembering. I intend to host an event to mark it."
"This event will require the participation of every student in the school. I'll walk you through the steps, and you will pass them on to the others."
Moriarty's penetrating gaze swept across the group. These were the house representatives—the most respected students of each house. He trusted they'd execute their roles flawlessly.
Well… maybe with one exception.
He noticed a tension between Leon and the Ravenclaw Girls' Chair. One wore a sneer while the other held her chin high in defiance. Odd, considering no one else was present—they seemed to be putting on a show solely for each other.
Tonks noticed too, and a mischievous glint flashed through her dark eyes.
"The dinner dance begins at precisely seven. As is tradition, dinner first—then the dance."
Moriarty continued assigning roles, his tone earnest and commanding. "We'll act during the dance. Slytherin will initiate, followed by Gryffindor, then Ravenclaw, and finally Hufflepuff.
When Slytherin moves, Gryffindor must…
When Gryffindor moves, Ravenclaw must…"
He paused and raised an eyebrow. "You follow the plan?"
"Yes, sir, we understand." Charlie and the others responded in unison, eyes bright with anticipation.
"Excellent," Moriarty said casually. "Go. If anything goes wrong, find Marcus."
The group turned to leave, but Moriarty called after them, "Wait."
They turned back.
"Remember," Moriarty said, voice lowering. "This is confidential. No one says a word until the dance starts."
The students nodded solemnly. "Understood."
"Go."
Once they left, Moriarty relaxed and turned to admire Tonks, only to find her eyes fixed on him.
"Little brother~" she purred. "You've grown quite powerful. You ooze arrogance with every move."
"Thanks for the reminder. I'll work on suppressing it," Moriarty replied, his thoughts drifting toward his ultimate mission. He reined in his aura.
"Then have you noticed?" Tonks said with a teasing smile. "You Slytherins have another couple blooming."
"Do we?" Moriarty tilted his head, genuinely confused.
Tonks clicked her tongue. "Slow boy." Her grin widened. "Last year he fell for William—tragic, they nearly destroyed each other. I thought they'd come out, but nope. Now he's hot and heavy with another girl..."
"What was that?" Moriarty's eyes sharpened.
Tonks' voice trailed into a whisper, only the words "William" and "coming out" audible.
Tsk tsk, Nymphadora... so this is the kind of girl you are.
"I didn't! I didn't say anything!" Tonks flushed and quickly looked away.
Seven o'clock arrived without warning amid their banter. As Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman strolled into the Great Hall chatting amicably, the entire hall stood in unison—dinner had begun.
"Sit, sit, children," Dumbledore waved cheerfully as he moved to the high table, Ludo and the other professors trailing behind him.
Clatter! The room filled with the sound of chairs as everyone sat down.
Dumbledore gestured grandly toward the entrance. "Let us welcome the members of the England National Team with warm applause!"
Thunderous applause erupted as Roman and the other players entered, smiling and waving. Ludo directed them to a reserved cluster of round tables near the high table.
Once seated, Dumbledore continued, "There is a team—formed less than a fortnight ago. Its average player age is under fourteen. It holds no official title…"
Laughter echoed through the hall—everyone knew exactly which team he meant.
"But this team," Dumbledore's voice grew resonant, "defeated a World Cup quarterfinalist! You may not grasp what that means yet, but someday, you'll proudly say that you were classmates with professional players!"
Cheers and applause shook the ceiling.
"Moriarty Slytherin of the Hogwarts Dream Team," Dumbledore's voice rose above the celebration. "On the Quidditch field, I—Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore—may call you the strongest!"
Gasps echoed. Dumbledore had revealed his full name to the students for the first time.
He raised his goblet and swirled it gently. Red wine shimmered into being. Moriarty stood, mirrored the action, and a matching goblet filled with wine appeared.
They nodded respectfully and drank.
The room fell silent. All eyes were fixed on the two.
When they finished, the Great Hall erupted with roaring cheers.
"Children," Dumbledore chuckled, "I know you're eager. But let's give our last round of applause to both teams—for a phenomenal match!"
The applause returned, louder than ever.
"Very good. Now—let the feast begin!"
Menus materialized on every table.
"No doubt—this is top-tier," Jericho announced proudly. He held up his menu. "Roast goose!"
A steaming roast goose instantly appeared before him and Helena.
"Come, my darling, let me feed you," Jericho said with a cheeky grin.
Meanwhile, Afro was explaining the magical menu to Roman.
"Grilled steak!"
A massive serving landed before them.
"See? Cool, right?" Afro grinned as he ordered dish after dish.
Roman shook his head at the growing mountain of food. They could never finish it all. But they had to maintain appearances in front of Hogwarts.
His stomach churned.
Then he spotted Moriarty and Tonks, whose table was filled with unfamiliar dishes—rich aromas wafting across the hall.
Roman's stomach grumbled again.
He stood and wandered over.
"Ahem, Moriarty?" he asked sheepishly. "Your food's different from ours?"
Moriarty pointed at the array of delicacies and listed, "Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, Dragon-Phoenix Auspice, Almond Buddha's Hand, Braised Tenderloin with Fuzimelon, Eight-Treasure Wild Duck, Hanging Furnace Pheasant. Good eyes—you are a Chaser, after all."
"Don't tease me," Roman flushed. "But uh… why aren't these dishes on our menu?"
"No one else can make them," Tonks said smugly, eyeing Roman before scooping a tenderloin portion.
"Junior" she cooed, feeding Moriarty.
Roman stood frozen, eyes wide.
"Bah, that's infuriating!"
He shuffled back to his table, deflated. He tried mimicking Dumbledore and Moriarty, swirling his goblet. A small amount of wine appeared. He downed it and tried again—nothing.
"Why?" he grumbled. "No second glass?"
"Captain Roman," Ludo approached, grinning. "Forgot to tell you. Dumbledore charmed the glasses. Only one pour per person—too many students, you see."
"Ah, makes sense," Roman sighed.
Ludo clapped his shoulder. "Time to shift your mindset. Be adaptable."
Roman followed Ludo's gaze. Students were approaching Moriarty with glasses, hoping to toast him.
Tonks pouted.
Roman muttered, "Maybe he really is the best captain choice… all for the team."
"What?" Afro asked loudly. "You want a 'great victory'? Okay, I ordered it! Let's see what kind of meat it is!"
Roman laughed despite himself. He looked at his energetic teammates and smiled. With a team like this, it wasn't so bad.
By eight o'clock, most of the students had eaten. Moriarty exchanged glances with Charlie and the others. They all subtly adjusted their appearances, grooming themselves neatly.
A strange atmosphere filled the hall—something was coming.
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