Just as the three had decided during their morning discussions, they spent the entire day in productive idleness or more accurately, consciously conserving their energy for the evening's ball.
When the Weasley twins burst into the common room, calling enthusiastically for Ron to join them in a snowball battle they were organizing in the courtyard, he declined the invitation firmly.
Of course, his refusal might have been motivated less by energy conservation and more by his accumulated experience with his older brothers' brand of creative warfare.
Every single snowball fight Ron had participated in during their childhood had inevitably resulted in him being targeted by Fred and George working in coordination.
Even worse, the twins had a disturbing tendency to enhance their snowballs with small doses of Dungbombs.
Ron certainly had no intention of presenting himself at the ball to dance with Padma Patil while reeking of the nauseating aroma that Dungbombs produced.
Incidentally, after spending considerable time carefully studying the illustrated instructions in "Charm Your Way to Style: Transform Your Clothes with Magic," Hermione had successfully helped Ron perform several alteration charms on his maroon dress robes.
While the garment still couldn't be described as fashionable by any stretch of imagination, they had at least managed to remove those particularly ugly, yellowed lace trimmings that had made the robes look like they belonged in a museum dedicated to historical fashion disasters.
Time slipped away unnoticed when people weren't paying careful attention to its passage, and before any of them quite realized how quickly the afternoon had vanished, the clock in the corner of the common room was chiming five o'clock.
The previously peaceful atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room gradually transformed as it filled with increasing numbers of students, all emerging from their dormitories in various states of preparation and anxiety about the evening's formal banquet.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were certainly no exception to this overall pattern of anxiety. They quickly left their comfortable positions near the fireplace and hurried back to their dormitories to begin their own preparations.
Meanwhile, in the Great Hall, preparations of a different sort were reaching their final stages.
"Professor Westeros, shift that cluster slightly to the left... now raise it up just a fraction... perfect, hold it right there," Professor McGonagall directed.
She wore a long dress robe of red tartan, with a rather unique (Adrian thought it was quite ugly) wreath of thistles decorating the brim of her hat..
She was concentrating with focus on directing Adrian through the process of adjusting the positions of literally hundreds of separate mistletoe sprigs and ivy garlands that needed to be suspended from the Great Hall's ceiling at precisely calculated intervals.
After finally satisfying Professor McGonagall's exacting aesthetic requirements, Adrian wipeed the accumulated sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
Maintaining simultaneous magical control over so many small, scattered objects distributed across such a vast space was a huge technical challenge.
From a purely logical standpoint, this entire decorating operation should have been handled by Hogwarts' house-elves who had both the organizational skills and the sheer numbers necessary to complete such tasks efficiently. In fact, house-elves had already finished arranging all the holiday decorations a full day in advance of the event.
The Great Hall's enchanted ceiling already displayed a magnificent simulation of starlit winter sky, with gently falling crystalline snowflakes that dissolved before reaching the floor.
Silver frost patterns decorated every surface with precision, and all manner of exquisite Christmas ornaments had been positioned throughout the vast space with attention to aesthetic balance.
The overall effect had been perfect like a winter wonderland.
However, around two hours before the banquet was officially scheduled to begin, Professor McGonagall had suddenly had a change of opinion regarding the placement of various decorative elements and decided that everything needed to be rearranged according to a new vision that existed only in her mind.
Adrian, who had been passing through the entrance hall at exactly the wrong moment, had been immediately conscripted into service as emergency manual labor before he could give any reasonable excuse for escape.
"Thank you very much for your assistance, Professor Westeros," McGonagall said with obvious satisfaction once the final garland had been positioned according to her specifications. "Now we simply wait for the banquet to begin. Oh my, look at the time—the Weird Sisters should be arriving at the main entrance any moment now. Would you be so kind as to go greet them and escort them to their performance area?"
"Of course, Professor," Adrian replied with resigned politeness, nodding his acceptance of yet another unexpected responsibility.
The Weird Sisters were a musical group that Dumbledore had specifically invited to provide entertainment for the evening's festivities. Within the wizarding world, this band had a level of fame and popularity that was difficult to exaggerate as they undeniably were top-tier celebrities whose concerts regularly sold out within minutes of tickets becoming available.
The magnitude of their celebrity status could be understood by considering a single impressive fact: people who appeared on Chocolate Frog cards were always either wizards who had distinguished contribution to magical society or internationally recognized cultural figures with extraordinary achievement.
And all eight members of the Weird Sisters had earned their own exclusive trading cards which was an example of their influence on wizarding pop culture.
However, Adrian had some doubts about whether their musical style would be appropriate for tonight's formal occasion. He had listened to several of their recordings during these years, and the band could most truthfully be described as specializing in extremely aggressive rock music with heavy drumming, distorted magical instruments, and vocals that bordered on actual screaming.
Their music could be considered as wild, unrestrained, and confrontational and that didn't certainly align well with the refined, elegant atmosphere that Professor McGonagall seemed determined to create for the Yule Ball.
The clock above the Great Hall's entrance soon indicated eight o'clock. After Adrian had finished making all necessary arrangements for the Weird Sisters' comfort and ensuring they understood the evening's schedule, he returned to the transformed Great Hall to witness the fruits of everyone's preparation.
Despite their somewhat strange name, the specific members of the Weird Sisters were surprisingly pleasant and professional to interact with during their brief conversation. Perhaps the large performance fee that Hogwarts had negotiated with their management had contributed to their cooperative attitude and good humor.
Regardless of the reason, Adrian's interaction with the band had progressed quite smoothly.
The lead vocalist Myron Grapes was a particularly hairy person whose abundant facial and body hair gave Adrian the impression of encountering a slightly scaled-down version of Hagrid.
Like his fellow band members, Myron wore deliberately torn black robes that had been designed to convey an air of rebellious artistic uniqueness and rejection of conventional wizarding fashion standards.
As time passed, teachers and students gradually entered the great hall.
The tournament champions and visiting headmasters had been assigned seats at a round table placed conspicuously in the front row of the dining arrangement, providing them with best viewing of both the dance floor and the stage where the Weird Sisters would perform.
They were joined at this table by Ludo Bagman, whose cheerful demeanor seemed slightly forced, and Percy Weasley, who sat straight with obvious pride in his temporary promotion to such distinguished company.
Weatherby was attending the ball as the official representative of Bartemius Crouch Senior.
Adrian had originally planned to sit at one of the faculty tables along the perimeter of the hall, where he might enjoy relative anonymity and perhaps find opportunities to chat informally with various colleagues. However, Dumbledore had other ideas about seating arrangements.
Before Adrian could execute his planned escape to more comfortable place, Dumbledore had firmly grasped his arm and pulled him toward the empty seat beside his own chair at the champions' table. His grip had surprising strength for someone of his age, probably the only way he could maintain reliable control of Elder Wand.
Somewhat to Adrian's surprise, none of the other distinguished guests at the table raised any objections to this impromptu addition to their seating arrangement. The champions, headmasters, and Ministry officials all seemed to accept his presence as perfectly natural and appropriate.
Finding himself with no polite method of escape, Adrian reluctantly sat into the assigned chair. He had been looking forward to the possibility of obtaining autographed albums from the Weird Sisters, but that opportunity had apparently been sacrificed by Dumbledore.
Eventually, all students and faculty members had found their places throughout the transformed Great Hall, and the ambient noise of conversation and movement gradually diminished to an expectant hush.
The seating arrangement placed Adrian between Dumbledore on his left and Viktor Krum on his right.
As soon as Krum had taken his seat, his attention became completely absorbed by his date for the evening. He showed absolutely no leaning to initiate conversation or even acknowledge Adrian's presence with basic social courtesies.
One detail worth particular mention was the identity of Krum's companion: Hermione Granger sat beside him looking remarkably elegant in dress robe,
Even more surprising than this unexpected pairing was the fact that Fleur Delacour had apparently chosen not to bring any dance partner at all, and instead sat on her assigned seat alone.
Just as Adrian was puzzling over these various romantic aspects and wondering what had produced such results, Dumbledore rose slightly from his chair to address the gathering.
"I am absolutely delighted that we can all gather together on this special evening," he announced with genuine warmth and high spirits. "However, before we engage in conversation and celebration, perhaps we should first attend to our physical needs."
With a flourish, he picked up the small, elegantly printed menu card positioned in front of his place setting and called out in a voice that resounded throughout the vast hall: "Pork chops!"
Instantly, as if summoned by the headmaster's command, a perfectly prepared serving of pork chops appeared on his plate.
The meat was still sizzling from recent cooking, its fat steaming in the air and releasing an aroma that made several nearby guests' stomachs rumble with sudden hunger.
Understanding the magical ordering system, the other guests quickly followed Dumbledore's example, calling out their preferred dishes and watching with satisfaction as food appeared in front of them.
Adrian requested a medium-rare steak and took an experimental bite. The preparation was exactly what expected from Hogwarts' house-elves, perfect, properly seasoned, and served at ideal temperature.
After ensuring that all his neighbors had successfully ordered their meals, Dumbledore nodded with satisfaction and turned his attention toward Ludo Bagman, who sat several seats away looking somewhat uncomfortable in his formal attire.
"Tell me, Ludo," Dumbledore inquired, "how has Barty been managing lately? He hasn't contacted me even once since he left from Hogwarts after the tournament's opening ceremonies."
Ludo had been in the process of attacking a Yorkshire pudding that was at the center of his plate. Upon hearing Dumbledore's question, he quickly set down his fork. His eyes began darting around the table as if searching for escape routes.
"Ah, old Barty! Yes, well, same as always, you know how he is!" Bagman replied with obviously forced cheerfulness, his smile appearing increasingly strained. "The work demands at the Ministry have been absolutely overwhelming this season. He desperately needs rest and recuperation, haha—"
Before Bagman could continue his increasingly unconvincing explanation, Percy Weasley suddenly straightened his back with stiff formality and interjected himself into the conversation.
His voice was loud as if he were announcing important legislation to a packed courtroom.
"Actually, Professor Dumbledore, if I might clarify the situation. Mr. Crouch is currently spending the Christmas holiday with his family. He genuinely needs this period of rest and recovery, because the difficulties surrounding the Quidditch World Cup organizing committee have placed him under enormous pressure for many consecutive months.
However, I can assure you that the daily operational work of the Department of International Magical Cooperation continues to function with absolute efficiency under the administrative systems that Mr. Crouch established."
"You can relax, Percy," Dumbledore replied with a gentle smile. "This is a social celebration, not your official work hours. There's no need for such formal reporting of departmental status."
Percy's face immediately flushed red as he felt somewhat embarrassed.
Adrian had been silently observing this entire conversation from his position at the table. Percy was too eager for recognition and validation, and desperately wanted others' attention.
However, aside from Dumbledore's polite acknowledgment, none of the other guests at the table seemed particularly interested in engaging with Percy's comments.
"Hasn't Mr. Crouch appeared at the Ministry in quite some time?" Adrian suddenly asked.
Percy breathed a sigh of relief and quickly replied,
"Ah, yes, that's quite true, Professor Westeros. However, I can assure you that his absence doesn't negatively affect departmental operations in any way. We maintain constant communication through regular mail, and Mr. Crouch provides detailed written instructions for all significant decisions and policy matters."
Adrian didn't believe for a moment that the situation was as uncomplicated as Percy was trying to portray.
A department head failing to make any personal appearances for such long duration meant something far more than simple vacation or illness.
He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and pressed the inquiry further. "Only through mail?"
"That's correct, Professor," Percy nodded with absolute confidence, apparently seeing nothing suspicious in this arrangement. "All departmental communication occurs through written owl posts."
Having received this definite confirmation of his worst suspicions, Adrian felt his concern deepen. From his perspective, Barty Crouch Senior was likely in grave danger.
"Dumbledore," Adrian said quietly, turning his attention toward the headmaster while keeping his voice low enough that other table guests wouldn't overhear, "regarding Crouch's..."
"Shh—" Dumbledore interrupted with gentle but firm authority, his expression revealing absolutely nothing about his own thoughts or concerns regarding this troubling matter.
Dumbledore showed no particular expression, and said calmly. "We'll discuss this situation at a more appropriate time and location,"
Seeing that Dumbledore wasn't in a hurry, Adrian said no more.
Indeed, bringing up this matter at such an occasion was somewhat inappropriate.
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