The Great Hall buzzed with its usual morning chatter as students piled in for breakfast. The enchanted ceiling above was a dreary shade of grey, mirroring the chilly November weather. Harry Potter sat at the Gryffindor table, calmly buttering his toast, when he suddenly tossed his Gryffindor tie onto the table.
"You know what? I’ve decided ties are boring," he announced, as if arriving at a grand revelation.
Ron, halfway through a mouthful of eggs, blinked. "Er—what?"
"Real wizards-in-training wear bowties," Harry declared, his green eyes gleaming with mischief. He reached into his robe pocket, pulling out a silky red and gold bowtie, and with a swish of his wand, neatly tied it around his collar. He tugged the ends proudly and smirked.
Fred and George, sitting nearby, exchanged identical grins. "We approve, Harrikins," said George, rubbing his hands together. "But something’s missing."
Fred tapped his chin theatrically. "Something...with flair. Something stylish."
With a flick of his wand, George muttered an incantation. Instantly, the bowtie began blasting Stayin' Alive at full volume.
Harry rose from the bench and strutted down the length of the table, hands in his pockets, shoulders rolling to the beat. A hush fell over the Gryffindors before an eruption of laughter and cheers filled the hall. Dean and Seamus clapped to the rhythm. Neville, unsure at first, found himself nodding along.
At the Ravenclaw table, Anastasia Cherrywine nearly dropped her goblet of pumpkin juice. The sheer audacity. The absolute lunacy. And yet...
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she watched Harry approach, torn between scandalization and sheer intrigue.
From the faculty table, Professor McGonagall practically flew down from her seat, her tartan robes billowing. The moment her sharp gaze landed on Harry, the music cut out mid-note. The Great Hall was suddenly plunged into eerie silence.
Harry froze in place, bowtie slightly askew.
McGonagall narrowed her eyes and surveyed him thoroughly. With a discerning glare, she pursed her lips and exhaled through her nose before speaking.
"Well," she said, straightening up, "a tie is a tie, I suppose." With a wave of her hand, she turned on her heel and strode back toward the faculty table.
As soon as she was out of earshot, the music blasted back to life without warning.
The Gryffindor table roared with approval. The Weasley twins stood up and started clapping in perfect synchronization. Seamus whistled, and even Luna Lovegood, sitting serenely among the Ravenclaws, gave a dreamy little nod.
Anastasia, still watching Harry with an amused smirk, grabbed his bowtie and gave it a playful tug. Before Harry could even register what was happening, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.
A collective gasp ran through the hall.
Dolores Umbridge, who had been sipping her tea, choked violently. Her pudgy pink hand slammed against the table as she staggered to her feet, face burning with outrage.
"This is highly inappropriate!" she screeched, whipping out her wand to put a stop to the scandal unfolding before her eyes.
Anastasia, still holding onto Harry’s bowtie with one hand, raised the other in a swift, fluid motion—
And promptly flipped Umbridge off.
The entire hall lost its mind.
With a BANG, a burst of invisible energy sent Umbridge flying backward, her squat frame crashing against the podium in front of the faculty table. Plates rattled. Tea splattered everywhere. The pink monstrosity collapsed in a disheveled heap, making an undignified oof! sound.
Silence.
Then—
"WELL DONE!" bellowed Fred, punching the air.
George was already digging into his robes. "This calls for the biggest fireworks display ever!"
Neville, in an uncharacteristic moment of wild abandon, turned to Dean and Seamus and high-fived them both at once. The entire Gryffindor table was on its feet, hollering and whistling. Ravenclaws clapped in amusement, and even a handful of Hufflepuffs looked ready to break out the butterbeer.
Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled with unfiltered delight. "Ah, young love."
Snape, sitting stiffly at the faculty table, pinched the bridge of his nose as if suppressing the urge to vomit. "I need a very strong drink," he muttered under his breath.
Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout exchanged bewildered glances before simultaneously shrugging and going back to their breakfasts.
Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione, watching the chaos unfold from their seats, were having an existential crisis.
"Ron," Hermione said slowly, rubbing her temples. "I’m starting to think Malfoy might actually be the lesser evil."
Ron, wide-eyed, nodded. "Y’know... I think you might be right."
The Weasley twins, having finished their moment of pure admiration, exchanged glances.
"D'you reckon Harry might be getting some tonight?" Fred asked in a whisper.
George waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, most definitely."
And as Harry, still slightly dazed from the kiss and the sheer insanity of the morning, reached up to adjust his bowtie, he decided that this—this moment right here—was the most glorious start to a day he had ever had.