The Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was steeped in Christmas magic. Everywhere you looked, the air shimmered with festive joy, transforming the hall into a dazzling winter wonderland.
Twelve towering Christmas trees, each frosted in shimmering silver, lined the hall. Around them, gift boxes spun and danced in midair, ribbons fluttering as they circled the branches. Each box bore a question written on its label—only those who answered correctly would see their prize fly into their hands.
Of course, a few overzealous Quidditch players tried to snatch the gifts by force. But whenever someone managed to grab a box, it would explode in a shower of colorful streamers, while the glittering icicles hanging from the trees suddenly shot out, each casting a Cheering Charm at the offenders. The result? Uncontrollable fits of laughter for the rule-breakers.
The Weasley twins exchanged a knowing glance. This reminded them of the catalog in The Complete Guide to Magical Artifacts that Douglas was always tempting them with. They remembered a section on fake wands and suspected these icicles were made using similar tricks.
Taking advantage of the chaos, the twins stealthily plucked a few icicles from the trees and retreated to a corner to investigate, completely oblivious to Professor Flitwick's amused gaze from the staff table. Before long, a series of crackles erupted from the corner, followed by peals of laughter that simply wouldn't stop. The laughter continued right up to the start of the evening feast—no matter what spells they tried, the Tickling Charm could not be broken.
Percy shook his head with mock regret. "This Tickling Charm's been reinforced with an encryption spell by both Professor Flitwick and Professor Holmes. It's like there's a secret password protecting it. Unless you're stronger than the two of them combined, you'll never break it. If you try, the laughter just keeps going…"
"Haha... Tickling Charm, really?"
"Password protection on a spell? Brilliant! Haha!"
"Is the Tickling Charm advanced magic now? Hahaha!"
"Maybe they want to make their enemies die laughing."
"Haha... cough cough... Like us right now."
Leaning in, Percy whispered, "Here's the real secret: the anti-tampering spell only triggers if you try to force the icicle open. The boss says it's to protect trade secrets. The more people who help make it, the more complex the spell gets, and nobody knows who set which password. Even Professor Flitwick would have a hard time cracking it…"
George and Fred traded a look of pure admiration. Such a devious, layered defense—now that was their kind of magic.
Elsewhere, the Ravenclaw students had outdone themselves. Inspired by the snow monster Douglas created the previous Christmas, they'd built a majestic eagle to stand guard at the front of their house table. Anyone who approached and wished it a "Merry Christmas" would be challenged with a riddle, just like the famous door knocker at their common room. Answer correctly, and the eagle would open its beak to reveal a prize.
But this time, every question came from the students themselves. Each person who contributed a gift got to set their own "impossible" riddle.
"Who was the Minister for Magic in 1710, and what did he accomplish?"
"Who held office in 1875, and what infuriating decree did they issue?"
"Who invented the Dungbomb?"
…
"How do you find Professor Flitwick's office from outside the castle?"
"What's planted in the third row of the third plot in Greenhouse Seven?"
The questions ranged from the scholarly to the absurd—some students even recycled questions straight from their exam papers.
The Hufflepuff table was a spectacle in its own right. Led by the prefects and approved by Professor Sprout, they'd transformed their long table into a cozy, bustling kitchen. Any student could apply to use the magical cookware to whip up a dish. No one worried about food prep—if you couldn't cook, you could bring a small gift and ask a culinary-minded Hufflepuff for help, though you'd have to handle your own ingredients.
The only real concern was keeping questionable ingredients out of the mix. Madam Pomfrey watched the proceedings with a furrowed brow—she had no desire to spend Christmas night treating food poisoning.
While Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff threw themselves into their festivities, the students of Gryffindor and Slytherin found themselves a bit at a loss. They hadn't expected the other two houses to pull out all the stops.
When Harry returned to Hogwarts, he arrived just in time to sample one of Ginny's infamous chili desserts. He ate it, tears streaming down his face.
Later, Harry pulled Ron and Hermione aside to a quiet corner of the castle and shared what he could about the day's events. He was honest about what he couldn't say, and promised to tell them more when he could.
Ron was a little put out that Harry was still keeping secrets. Hermione mostly felt awkward—she had a few secrets of her own.
When Hermione heard that Sirius's house was hidden among Muggle flats in London, she was fascinated. Every wizard she'd read about either lived far from Muggles or blended in completely. But a pure-blood family concealing their home in the middle of Muggle housing? That was a new one.
It made sense, she supposed. The Black family was ancient and secretive—she'd never read about any pure-blood family who'd make their address public.
As they chatted, they ran into Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. He greeted them and, almost as an afterthought, asked, "Where's that fellow? Haven't seen him around."
Everyone at Hogwarts knew "that fellow" meant Professor Holmes.
Harry replied casually, "He's out on business with Professor Lupin and Headmaster Dumbledore. Probably won't be back tonight. Did you need him for something?"
Nick shook his nearly-severed head with a flourish. "No, no, just curious. I've got things to do. Merry Christmas to you all—enjoy yourselves!"
Ten minutes after Nearly Headless Nick departed, word spread among the ghosts: tonight, they'd all be attending the Christmas feast. Even Peeves was included—no one was left out.
The ghosts hurried to prepare their performances. Peeves, ever the prankster, thoughtfully wrapped his moldy bread and peanuts in festive paper. He even snuck into the kitchens amid the chaos, pilfering half a bucket of Douglas's notorious stinky tofu brine. He bottled it up in tiny vials, each tied with a dainty bow.
George and Fred were delighted to hear Peeves would be attending. They commissioned the house-elves to bake a miniature cake shaped like the Holmes Tower.
The Holmes Tower had become a favorite among Hogwarts students. Whenever someone was tormented by Peeves, all they had to do was dash to the tower—he wouldn't dare approach.
Some enterprising students, noticing Peeves's fear of the tower, started making miniature models to ward him off. At first, Peeves was genuinely nervous, but once he realized the fakes weren't the real thing, he unleashed a campaign of wild revenge on the would-be tricksters.
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