Chapter 27: Chapter 27: Breaking Tradition

The aftermath of the first task was predictably chaotic, but Arthur decided to stay well away from all of it. He didn’t even bother reading the headlines. He’d had enough fun with Skeeter—now it had become boring.

His focus remained on the two rare books he had access to until the end of the year and his mission to witness the birth of Captain Marvel. Nothing else mattered, even the upcoming Yule Ball.

—

The dungeon classroom felt even colder than usual as Professor Snape kept the seventh-year Slytherins behind after Potions. The students exchanged confused glances – Snape rarely delayed them unless someone had completely messed up a potion, but today’s class had gone smoothly by all accounts.

“Silence,” Snape said unnecessarily, as no one had been speaking. He looked particularly displeased, even by his standards. “I have an… announcement to make.” He practically spat the word ’announcement’ like it was a particularly disgusting potion ingredient.

The class waited expectantly.

“As is tradition during the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts will be hosting a Yule Ball.” Snape looked like he was reciting lines he’d been forced to memorize. “This is primarily a formal dance for fourth-years and above, though younger students may attend if invited by an older student.”

A ripple of excitement passed through the class – particularly among the girls, who immediately began whispering and glancing at potential dance partners.

“The ball will begin at eight o’clock on Christmas night and end at midnight,” Snape continued, his voice dripping with boredom. “Dress robes will be worn. Anyone embarrassing Slytherin House with improper behaviour will face serious consequences.”

“That will be all,” Snape concluded. “Hayes, remain behind.”

As the other students filed out – the girls chattering excitedly, the boys looking various shades of nervous or disinterested – Arthur approached Snape’s desk.

“Professor?”

“Hayes,” Snape fixed him with a penetrating stare. “As a Triwizard champion, you are expected to participate in the opening dance with your partner. This is not optional. You and the other champions will be… showcased, for lack of a better term.”

“I see,” Arthur replied neutrally.

“I trust you can find a suitable partner and learn basic dance steps without embarrassing our house? I’d rather not have to deal with the additional headache of teaching you to waltz.”

“I’ll be prepared, Professor,” Arthur assured him with complete sincerity. He would indeed be prepared – just not in the way Snape assumed.

Snape regarded him suspiciously for a moment longer. “Very well. Dismissed.”

Arthur left the Potions classroom, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Prepared, yes. Attending? Absolutely not. Even before the Triwizard Tournament had hijacked his final year, Arthur had decided against participating in the Yule Ball.

In fact, when packing for his final year at Hogwarts, Arthur had deliberately “forgotten” the dress robes mentioned in the supply list. He’d never intended to attend any formal functions during his last year – his plans for the Christmas holidays had been set months in advance, and they certainly didn’t involve awkward dancing in the Great Hall.

His unexpected selection as champion had briefly complicated matters, forcing him to check the official Triwizard Rulebook – a dull but necessary task. He’d spent an entire evening meticulously searching through the magically bound parchment the Room of Requirement had provided after the First Task.

To his relief, while champions were strongly encouraged to participate in the Yule Ball, there was no binding magical requirement. Unlike the tasks themselves, the social events were merely tradition – breaking them would be considered bad form and might generate negative press, but wouldn’t violate the magical contract.

Given that his reputation was already somewhere between ’dangerous outcast’ and ’arrogant manipulator’, snubbing a dance seemed trivial. One more black mark wouldn’t make a difference.

His plan was simple: pretend he was going to participate, then quietly leave Hogwarts with the other students departing for the holidays. He’d deal with the fallout – the likely fury of Snape and the disappointment of Dumbledore – when he returned in January.

—

Over the next few weeks, as excitement about the Yule Ball reached fever pitch throughout the castle, Arthur stuck to his usual routine. He spent his days researching in the library, practicing advanced magic in the Room of Requirement, and working on his other plans. The dance wasn’t even on his radar.

“Have you got a date for the ball yet, Hayes?” Professor Flitwick asked casually after Charms one day.

“All sorted, Professor,” Arthur replied with just the right amount of confidence.

“Splendid! Looking forward to seeing you open the dance!”

Arthur merely nodded and continued on his way.

Similar conversations happened with other teachers, and Arthur gave the same vague answers to each. In his experience, adults rarely followed up on such things if you gave them a confident initial response.

What he hadn’t expected was the number of girls who approached him directly. Despite his scary reputation and social isolation, his obvious magical power, sharp mind, and good looks apparently held significant appeal. A few brave Hogwarts girls tried their luck, stammering out invitations in nervous whispers.

More surprising were the approaches from the Beauxbatons students. Several of the elegant French girls, perhaps intrigued by the ’dangerous mystery boy’ image or simply liking his looks, asked him to the Ball with surprising directness. Arthur politely but firmly turned down each one, sticking to his made-up excuse of already having a partner. Their disappointed, sometimes annoyed, expressions were a minor irritation easily ignored.

This pattern repeated throughout December – a respectful request, followed by his polite but firm refusal. Arthur found it vaguely funny that his social status had apparently risen due to his Tournament performance. A year ago, most of these girls wouldn’t have given him the time of day.

As the holidays approached, Arthur made his preparations with typical thoroughness. He had already packed his trunk and added his name to the list of departing students.

A subtle Notice-Me-Not charm was applied to the parchment after he added his signature. Anyone checking the list before the train departed would simply skip over “Arthur Hayes” without registering it. The charm would naturally fade once he was safely away from the castle.

The following morning, Arthur boarded the Hogwarts Express alongside excited first and second-years heading home for Christmas. A few older students were also leaving – those whose families had planned trips abroad or had strict holiday traditions. No one questioned his presence; most students were too wrapped up in their own plans to notice the solitary seventh-year Slytherin who had charmed himself to be overlooked.

As the train pulled away from Hogsmeade Station, Arthur watched the castle recede into the distance, its towers dark against the winter sky. He wouldn’t be returning until after the New Year – by which time the Yule Ball would be nothing but gossip and memories.

—

Days passed at Hogwarts. The castle felt emptier, quieter, yet buzzed with anticipation for the Yule Ball. Arthur’s absence went completely unnoticed. He had no close friends to miss him. His solitary habits meant students were used to not seeing him for extended periods – they simply assumed he was holed up in the library, or his private dungeon room, studying or practicing magic, as usual. With no classes running, there were no registers to mark him absent.

It was only on December 24th, the day before the Yule Ball, that the problem was discovered. Professor Snape, doing his duty as Head of House, went to find Arthur to give him the final schedule for the champions’ entrance and the opening dance sequence. He found Arthur’s room empty. Not just empty of Arthur, but empty of his trunk, his owl cage, his books – all personal belongings were gone.

“Albus, we have a problem.”

Professor Snape swept into the Headmaster’s office, his black robes billowing dramatically behind him. McGonagall was already there, discussing final arrangements for the Yule Ball with Dumbledore over tea and ginger newts.

“Good afternoon, Severus,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“Hayes is gone.”

McGonagall nearly spilled her tea. “What do you mean, ’gone’?”

“I mean,” Snape said with exaggerated patience, “that he is not in the castle. I’ve been trying to find him to go over the opening dance procedures, but he’s nowhere to be found. His dormitory is empty – not just of him, but of all his possessions.”

“Surely you’re mistaken,” McGonagall said, setting down her cup. “The champions must attend the Yule Ball. It’s tradition!”

“That is… highly irregular. Arthur is not one to break school rules without purpose. Minerva, could you possibly check the departure list for the Hogwarts Express?” Dumbledore suggested, looking thoughtful rather than concerned.

McGonagall waved her wand, and a roll of parchment zoomed into the office, unfurling itself in midair. She scanned the names of students who had left on the Hogwarts Express three days prior.

“Abercrombie, Boot, Brocklehurst… ah, here we are… Hayes, Arthur.” She looked up, bewildered. “His name is here, Headmaster. But… I checked this list myself before the train departed. I would have remembered seeing a champion’s name, especially Mr. Hayes. I would have stopped him.”

“Mr. Hayes is rather skilled at making people see – or not see – exactly what he wishes,” Dumbledore remarked, his eyes twinkling slightly. “I suspect he applied some form of misdirection charm to the list.”

“But why?” McGonagall asked, aghast. “Why leave? The Yule Ball…”

Snape scoffed. “Isn’t it blindingly obvious? The boy has consistently avoided any social situations throughout his time here. Why would he suddenly embrace one now, champion or not?”

“But the Tournament!” McGonagall protested. “Isn’t attendance mandatory for champions? Is he not risking the magical contract?”

“No, Minerva,” Dumbledore sighed. “The contract binds champions to compete in the three tasks, but social events like the Yule Ball are merely traditional. Young Mr. Hayes has obviously done his homework.”

“He’s been planning this from the start,” Snape added. “I should have twigged when he showed so little reaction to my instructions about the opening dance. Normally he at least shows some irritation when forced into social situations.”

McGonagall shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand that boy. Such a brilliant mind, but so determined to separate himself from wizarding society. What does he hope to gain?”

“Perhaps freedom, in his own way,” Dumbledore mused. “Mr. Hayes has never felt welcomed in our world, Minerva. Is it so surprising he seeks his future elsewhere?”

“Elsewhere?” McGonagall repeated. “Where would he go? What future could he possibly have outside the wizarding world with his talents?”

“You’d be surprised,” Dumbledore said mysteriously. “Mr. Hayes has shared some of his… aspirations with me. Suffice it to say, he sees opportunities beyond our rather limited horizons.”

“Well, that’s all very fascinating,” Snape interrupted sarcastically, “but we still have the immediate problem of a missing champion on the night of the Yule Ball. The Prophet will have an absolute field day.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore agreed. “We’ll need to manage this carefully. Perhaps we should inform the other champions first, then prepare a statement for the Daily Prophet…”

As the three professors debated how to minimize the scandal of the Hogwarts champion skipping the Yule Ball, the subject of their discussion was already thousands of miles away, focused on a mission far more significant to him than any school dance.

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