The afternoon of the Hogwarts Halloween Ball dawned in a haze of excitement, nerves, and utter chaos—at least in the Ravenclaw girls' dormitories.
It had started out reasonably enough. The WIX ravenclaw girls—Artemis, Eliza, Rosaline, Iris, and Vivian—had claimed two dorms for their preparations, bouncing between rooms as they attempted to get ready together. It should have been a smooth, sophisticated affair.
It was not.
Rosaline had woken up with the misguided idea that they would take a slow, elegant approach to getting ready. "We should start early," she had said at breakfast. "That way, we'll have plenty of time to perfect everything."
Instead, four hours before the ball, Eliza had launched herself onto Rosaline's bed with a groan. "Why is getting ready so much work?"
Vivian, lounging on Artemis's bed in her dressing gown, smirked. "Says the girl who spends hours in the Quidditch showers fixing her hair after practice."
"That's different," Eliza shot back. "This is formal. There are expectations."
"You're literally just going with Henry."
"Yeah, but I still need to look like I put in some effort."
Iris, already struggling with a hair charm in the corner, huffed. "Forget effort, I'm just trying to survive this."
Across the room, Artemis—who had been far too calm about the entire thing—was flipping through a book.
Rosaline, who had been attempting to untangle a stubborn necklace chain, finally sighed. "Artemis, put the book down. You are not showing up to the ball with ink stains on your hands."
Artemis raised an eyebrow. "I'm not?"
"No."
Artemis reluctantly closed the book. "Fine. But I don't see what the big deal is."
Vivian grinned. "Oh, my dear, sweet, oblivious friend. You have no idea what you're about to get dragged into."
The first disaster struck almost immediately.
"Why is my hair blue?" Iris wailed, staring in horror at her reflection.
"You wanted a sleek charm!" Rosaline exclaimed, staring at her wand in betrayal.
"Yes, sleek—not sapphire!"
Eliza, wheezing, reached for her wand. "Alright, hold still."
A few sparks and one minor explosion later, Iris's hair was back to its natural dark hue, though now extremely frizzy.
"This is fine," Iris muttered. "I'll just become a hermit. It's what I wanted all along."
Vivian, holding back laughter, yanked her into a chair. "No one is becoming a hermit. We're fixing this."
Meanwhile, Artemis had finally been dragged into the whirlwind.
Rosaline stood in front of her, hands on her hips. "You cannot just brush your hair and call it done."
"Why not?"
"Because you're going with Magnus Kane, and he is very much going to combust when he sees you, and I, for one, want to see that happen properly."
Vivian smirked. "Oh, definitely."
Artemis rolled her eyes. "Fine. Do whatever you want."
Vivian and Rosaline shared a triumphant look before immediately descending upon her with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion.
From the other room, a shriek sounded.
"I'M SPARKLING!"
"ELIZA, WHAT DID YOU DO?"
"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SIMPLE GLOW CHARM—"
"I LOOK LIKE A DAMN FAIRY LIGHT!"
Snickering, Rosaline shouted back, "At least you'll be easy to find in the crowd!"
By the time all the hair disasters were resolved, their dorm looked like a war zone of floating hairbrushes, discarded potions, and enchanted bobby pins attempting to escape under the beds.
"Alright," Vivian declared, brandishing a makeup brush. "Now for the fun part."
Artemis, sitting stiffly on Rosaline's bed, looked wary. "Define fun."
Iris snorted. "Fun for her. A test of patience for the rest of us."
"You wound me," Vivian said dramatically before dabbing a hint of shimmer onto Artemis's eyelids. "You'll thank me when Magnus dies on the spot."
Artemis groaned. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"
Eliza, sitting cross-legged on the floor as she tried to fix her mascara, piped up, "Because it's true."
Across the room, Iris was struggling to apply eyeliner.
Rosaline, noticing her dilemma, leaned over. "Need help?"
Iris sighed. "Please."
A few minutes later, with only minimal suffering, Iris had a clean, elegant winged liner.
Eliza, still fighting with hers, glared. "Why is mine smudging?"
"Because you keep blinking," Rosaline scolded.
"That's a design flaw, then."
After an eternity of blending, powders, and enchanted lip glosses that thankfully did not cause any allergic reactions, they were finally done.
They stared at each other, a rare moment of silent appreciation settling over them.
Vivian grinned. "Ladies, we look phenomenal."
"Even after nearly dying in the process," Iris muttered.
Artemis adjusted one of the tiny silver constellation pins in her hair. "We survived."
Rosaline smirked. "Barely."
Eliza stretched. "Alright, enough vanity. I'm starving."
Vivian rolled her eyes. "You'll survive until we get to the Great Hall."
"Doubtful."
Meanwhile in The Boys' Dormitory
In sharp contrast to the meticulous planning of the girls, the Ravenclaw boys were not doing well.
Henry was pacing. "What if I trip?"
"You will trip," Sol deadpanned, straightening his charcoal-gray robes in the mirror.
Henry groaned.
Magnus, adjusting his sleeves for the millionth time, muttered, "At least you know Eliza is going as your friend."
Henry paused. "And you think Artemis isn't?"
Magnus groaned, running a hand through his already-styled hair. "I don't know!"
"Merlin, you're hopeless," Sol muttered.
At that moment, the door swung open, and a very composed Gwenog Jones who somehow always guessed the riddle at the door and had free access to Ravenclaw dorms at this point, leaned against the doorframe.
"Oh, good," she said, smirking. "You lot are panicking."
Henry whirled. "You aren't?"
Gwenog raised an eyebrow. "I have nothing to panic about."
Sol flopped onto his bed. "Of course you don't."
Magnus exhaled. "Okay. We've got this. We just need to—"
"Move before we're late," Gwenog interrupted, glancing at the clock. "Now let's go. I want to see Iris's reaction when she sees me looking this good."
Henry squinted. "That's cocky."
Gwenog smirked. "That's accurate."
With one final breath, the boys collected themselves and followed Gwenog out the door, bracing for the night ahead.
As they descended toward the Great Hall, nerves simmering beneath their formal robes, none of them quite realized how utterly unprepared they were for what was waiting for them inside.
The night of the Hogwarts Halloween Ball arrived in a spectacle of magic, music, and mayhem. The Great Hall, already the most enchanting space in the castle, had outdone itself. Bewitching autumn leaves swirled in an endless breeze along the enchanted ceiling, which reflected a crisp, starry October night. Glowing jack-o'-lanterns levitated above the tables, each flickering with a warm golden light. Floating candles cast a soft, almost ethereal glow, and an enormous charmed chandelier of ice-blue ghostly flames illuminated the room, crackling without heat.
But all of that—the decorations, the music, the sheer spectacle of the event—faded into the background the moment they saw each other.
Magnus wasn't prepared.
He thought he was.
He had seen Artemis dressed up before—at Lovelace Manor gatherings, at New Year's parties, at every formal function they had ever attended together. He had seen her in velvet, in satin, in crisp silks, and elegant lace.
But this? This was different.
The moment Artemis stepped through the entrance, her deep blue robes shimmering under the floating candlelight, tiny silver constellations woven into the fabric catching the light—he nearly forgot how to breathe.
She wasn't wearing anything overly dramatic. No elaborate jewelry, no extravagant embellishments. And yet, Magnus swore the world tilted on its axis.
"Magnus," Sol whispered beside him, smirking. "Blink."
Magnus immediately did not blink.
Sol chuckled. "This is hilarious."
Meanwhile, Henry—who had been nursing his wounded pride from Vivian's earlier rejection—was doing his best to act nonchalant when she entered.
It wasn't working.
Vivian knew she looked good. She had chosen her deep red robes with intent. The gold embroidery caught the candlelight with every step, and the way her curls framed her face? Absolutely intentional.
She turned toward Henry, arching an eyebrow. "No comments?"
Henry, who had been expecting to feel bitter, was instead experiencing a brand-new crisis of regret.
"…You look alright," he muttered, looking anywhere but at her.
Vivian smirked. "Liar."
Across the room, Eliza—who had sworn up and down that she didn't care about dressing up—arrived looking annoyingly effortless in navy blue robes.
She didn't even try to be stunning, yet somehow, she was.
Henry, who was technically her date, elbowed Magnus and muttered, "Do not tell her she looks nice."
Magnus blinked. "Why?"
"She'll smirk, and I cannot deal with that tonight."
Predictably, the moment Eliza reached them, Magnus—who had barely recovered from his Artemis-induced catastrophe—blurted out, "You look great."
Eliza smirked.
Henry groaned.
Across the way, Iris Lawrence was having an actual meltdown.
Gwenog Jones had never been one for fancy occasions, yet there she was, looking obscenely attractive in a deep emerald green set of robes that clung to her shoulders in exactly the right way.
"Breathe," Vivian murmured, nudging Iris. "You're gawking."
Iris whipped her head toward Vivian, mortified. "I AM NOT—"
"Mhmm."
Meanwhile, Gwenog, having zero idea of the disaster she was causing, casually strolled up to Iris with a smirk. "You clean up nice."
Iris made a very high-pitched noise and nearly died on the spot.
The last to arrive were Rosaline and Sol, who had stuck together out of mutual survival instincts. Sol, who typically thrived on looking dramatically disheveled, had actually brushed his hair for once, and Rosaline—who usually kept things simple—looked downright elegant in her plum-colored robes.
Sol took one look at her and grinned. "I knew you were hiding something under all those books."
Rosaline rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "And you actually look like you own a mirror. A rare occasion."
"Only for you, darling," Sol quipped.
Rosaline snorted. "Never say that again."
They managed to claim a table near the center of the hall—a prime spot for people-watching, which they all agreed was half the fun of the evening.
It was a table for ten: The WIX plus their dates—including Ethan Selwyn, who looked wildly out of place among them.
Ethan, dressed in classic black-and-silver robes, had clearly not anticipated sitting with this particular group. He looked deeply uncomfortable but determined not to show it.
The others noticed.
And immediately pounced.
"So, Ethan," Sol said, swirling his goblet dramatically. "What's it like, being the only Slytherin at a table full of Ravenclaws?"
"Oi" Gwenog waved her fork, the sole Hufflepuff on the table.
"You're Honorary Ravenclaw at this point" Magnus magnanimously offered.
Everyone ignored them.
Ethan didn't flinch. "Well, technically, I'm accompanying Vivian, so I'm still in my own house, Just accompanying the Lovely lady as her Date."
Vivian smirked. "He does have a point."
Artemis, ever the tactful one, intervened. "Don't mind them, Ethan. They're just assessing whether or not you'll survive this table."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's the verdict?"
Rosaline sipped her drink. "Too soon to tell."
Dinner was a spectacle. The house-elves had outdone themselves, with dishes appearing in extravagant waves—roast meats, steaming pies, rich pastas, buttered rolls, and everything in between.
Magnus, after finally managing to stop staring at Artemis, decided this was his chance to flirt.
It did not go well.
"So," he started, attempting casual confidence. "Enjoying the evening?"
Artemis, completely unaware of his efforts, nodded. "The food's great."
Magnus, slightly thrown off, tried again. "And… the company?"
"Oh, yeah, everyone's here. It's nice."
Magnus: Internally screaming.
Meanwhile, Henry had discovered the punch was spiked.
"Who did this?" he muttered, staring at his goblet.
Sol took a sip. "Oh, this is dangerous."
Iris, still recovering from her Gwenog-induced crisis, took a sip as well and immediately choked. "WHO DID THIS?"
Rosaline smirked. "Jeremy Greengrass and his band of hooligans."
Ethan, now genuinely amused, snorted. "You lot are something else."
Vivian grinned, resting her chin on her hand. "We know."
As dinner wrapped up and the first notes of music started up, students began migrating toward the dance floor.
Henry, watching couples pair up, sighed dramatically. "Alright, Eliza, let's get this over with."
Eliza smirked. "Try to keep up, Bell."
Gwenog turned to Iris. "Come on, let's show these amateurs how it's done."
Iris—still dying internally—nodded and let herself be pulled toward the dance floor.
Magnus, standing beside Artemis, desperately tried to think of a suave way to ask her to dance.
Before he could, Artemis—completely oblivious—stood up and stretched. "Wanna dance?"
Magnus, momentarily short-circuiting, stammered, "Uh—yes—yeah. Let's go."
As they all moved toward the dance floor, Ethan remained in his seat, staring after them.
Vivian arched an eyebrow. "You coming, Selwyn?"
Ethan smirked. "I'd rather watch this chaos unfold first."
And with that, the night truly began.
At the far end of the hall, where the staff table usually stood, a grand stage had been erected. It was draped in deep violet banners, enchanted so that silver bats flitted across them, vanishing and reappearing like spectral performers. In front of the stage, an open dance floor gleamed under the shifting lights, and round tables were arranged around the perimeter, each set with plates of decadent food, goblets of chilled pumpkin fizz, and silver trays stacked high with enchanted, ever-replenishing sweets.
Dumbledore, beaming in his absurdly flamboyant midnight-blue robes covered in constellations, stood at the front of the room. "Welcome, welcome, dear students, to what I hope will be a night of delight, dance, and, undoubtedly, disaster!" His eyes twinkled. "Without further ado, I present to you a brand-new musical act, by our very own Students, one that I am told is… an experience. Please welcome, in their very first performance, The Weird Sisters!"
The students erupted into cheers as a group of seven wizarding boys leapt onto the stage, dressed in mismatched punk-rock robes with shredded hems and leather boots. Their lead singer, Kirley Duke, raised his wand, which transformed into a sleek black microphone, and shouted, "Hogwarts, are you ready to make some noise?"
With a flick of his wrist, a magical drumbeat filled the hall, and the band launched into a fast-paced, chaotic rock ballad that sent shockwaves through the crowd. The Weird Sisters weren't just loud—they were electrifying. The guitar riffs from Myron Wagtail shot out in bursts of harmless sparks, the enchanted drumsticks of Donaghan Tremlett moved so fast they blurred, and the bass thumped in a rhythm that sent vibrations straight through the enchanted floor.
Within seconds, the dance floor exploded into motion.
Vivian was the first to dive into the fray, grinning wildly as she pulled Ethan up at the last second, not remotely accepting his previous reluctance as an actual answer. Ethan barely had time to react before he was swept into the chaos, looking only mildly betrayed.
Magnus, still reeling from the fact that Artemis had unknowingly stolen his ability to function as a normal human being, barely had time to process the fact that Sol Moonfall had just grabbed his arm.
"You're dancing, Kane," Sol declared, utterly unbothered. "No arguments."
"What—Moonfall—"
"No arguments."
Gwenog twirled Iris onto the floor without an ounce of hesitation, moving them fluidly through the growing crowd as the beat pounded through the hall.
"You're stiff," Gwenog teased.
"I'm concentrating," Iris muttered.
"On dancing, or on how much you fancy me?"
Iris immediately stepped on Gwenog's foot.
Gwenog just laughed.
Meanwhile, Henry and Eliza were already caught in the rush of students jumping and swaying, unable to avoid the sheer force of the moving crowd.
"This is chaos!" Henry half-yelled over the music, his steps not even remotely coordinated.
"Just go with it!" Eliza cackled, pulling him along before he could fully trip over his own feet.
Henry, still fuming about Vivian's so-called betrayal (which, in his opinion, was a personal and deep betrayal), was making a valiant effort to avoid faceplanting. He was failing.
Rosaline, who had been lingering at the edges, debating whether she actually wanted to join, was unceremoniously yanked into the madness by Sol.
"Moonfall—"
"You can't just stand there and watch," Sol insisted, grinning as he spun her into a group of Gryffindors before she could protest.
"This is not how I planned my evening," Rosaline grumbled, nearly colliding with someone.
"This is your evening now."
The Weird Sisters transitioned into their next song—an unexpectedly eerie, groovy waltz with a haunting melody, something that sent a shiver through the crowd as the energy shifted. Some students hesitated before pairing up properly, falling into more elegant steps, while others kept the wild energy, twirling their partners dramatically in ridiculous circles.
Magnus, finally composing himself, turned to Artemis and offered his hand.
"Dance?"
Artemis, who had been absently analyzing the enchantments in the floating decorations, blinked.
"Oh. Sure."
She took his hand, and Magnus was certain his heart stuttered.
They moved into the dance without any of the awkward hesitations that plagued the students around them. Artemis was surprisingly graceful, effortlessly following Magnus's lead—not hesitating, not second-guessing, just moving with perfect ease.
But she wasn't paying attention to the fact that she was holding his hand, or that they were far closer than usual. She was simply existing in the moment, utterly unaware of the fact that Magnus was currently dying inside.
Magnus, on the other hand, was very, very aware.
Artemis glanced up at him, her gaze casual. "You alright?"
"…Fine."
(He was not fine.)
Henry, meanwhile, was still doing his best not to trip, but between the spiked punch and Eliza's complete lack of patience, his coordination was not improving.
Eliza, however, was having the time of her life.
"This isn't so bad, is it?" she teased, dragging Henry into another step.
"I feel like I'm in constant danger," Henry muttered.
"That's the spirit."
The music swelled, the candlelight flickered brighter, and as the students twirled and stumbled and existed in the sheer absurd joy of the moment, one thing became very clear:
This was the first time in years that Hogwarts had truly felt alive.
The faculty were having a grand time, much to the horror of their students.
Professor Flitwick, perched atop a stack of books so he could reach the punch bowl, was cheerfully swaying to the music, occasionally twirling his wand to send bursts of celebratory sparks into the air. Professor McGonagall had been reluctantly pulled into a dance by a very enthusiastic Professor Sprout, who was absolutely thriving in the chaotic atmosphere.
Snape, standing in the farthest, darkest corner of the room, looked like he wanted to Avada Kedavra the entire event.
And then there was Dumbledore, who, despite his age, was moving with such effortless grace that students actually paused to gape at him as he twirled with Madam Pomfrey, his robes billowing dramatically.
At the refreshment tables, trays of treats levitated just out of reach of particularly greedy hands, teasing students by floating away at the last second. The food was spectacular—enchanted pumpkin pasties that melted into warm, spiced sweetness upon first bite, cauldron cakes that exploded with edible sparks, and goblets of enchanted cider that refilled themselves. The house-elves had truly outdone themselves.
As the night wore on, unexpected disasters unfolded in classic Hogwarts fashion.
A group of overconfident fourth-years attempted to show off with synchronized wand-light choreography, only for one of them to misfire a Lumos Maxima and momentarily blind half the dance floor.
A bewitched set of floating skeleton decorations malfunctioned and started dramatically chasing students around the room, leading to a five-minute battle between the skeletons and a particularly determined Gryffindor who refused to let his date be 'attacked by the undead.'
And at some point, Peeves swooped down, overturning an entire bowl of magically-enhanced toffee that made the tongues of anyone who ate it stick together for an hour. Filch had to be physically restrained from cursing Peeves into oblivion.
Through it all, The WIX found themselves caught in a whirlwind of excitement. There was no war looming over them, no immediate deadlines for their newspaper, no pressure to be the masterminds behind a growing business. For one night, they were just teenagers, laughing, spinning across the dance floor, stuffing their faces with ridiculous amounts of candy, and enjoying the kind of normalcy that had once felt impossible.
As the Weird Sisters played their final song—a slow, enchanting melody that seemed to settle deep into their bones—Artemis found herself standing on the edges of the dance floor, watching her friends.
Magnus stood beside her, his hands in his pockets, expression relaxed. "It's a good night," he said softly.
Artemis nodded. "It is."
And for once, she wasn't thinking about research, or the past, or the future.
For once, she was simply here, Living in the Moment.
When the clock struck Midnight, the final notes of the song faded into silence, and Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "And so, my dear students, we bring this magical evening to a close. May you remember this night not only for its joy but for its utter, spectacular chaos."
As students cheered, groaned, and reluctantly began making their way out of the hall, The WIX exchanged looks, knowing without saying it that this night—this ridiculous, messy, wonderful night—would be a memory they'd carry with them for years to come.
And, of course, The Wixen Chronicles would make sure the rest of the school never forgot it, either.