Chapter 2
It only took three days for Hogwarts to completely descend into madness. The enchanted surfboards for Quidditch had resulted in half the Gryffindor team being admitted to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey was desperately trying to unbend Katie Bell's limbs from their pretzel-like state. Peeves had decided that the new administration was his calling, parading through the halls singing drunken sea shanties and throwing enchanted grape clusters at unsuspecting students.
And then there was the matter of detention.
"Detention?" Draco Malfoy sneered. "With him?"
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said through gritted teeth, rubbing her temples as if this was the last straw in a long list of terrible decisions. "You and Potter are to report to the Headmaster's office at once. And may Merlin have mercy on your souls."
Harry and Draco exchanged nervous glances but complied. The trip up the moving staircases felt like a march toward doom, and when they finally entered the Headmaster’s office, they were greeted by the sight of Dionysus lounging in a hammock, lazily swirling a goblet of deep red liquid.
"Ah, my favourite troublemakers!" Mr. D. smirked. "Sit down, sit down."
Draco, ever the bold one, crossed his arms. "What exactly is our detention?"
Mr. D. snapped his fingers, and the room transformed. The walls shimmered, replaced by a golden vineyard under a twilight sky. Wooden tables appeared, covered in goblets, strange fruits, and glowing purple drinks that sparkled in the dim light.
"We're going to have a wine-tasting lesson!" Dionysus announced.
Harry blinked. "We're sixteen."
"Ugh, fine, grape juice-tasting for you babies," Mr. D. grumbled. "But let me tell you, this is a crucial skill. If you ever find yourself in the company of gods—or rich wizards with questionable taste—you need to be able to judge a fine vintage."
Draco scowled. "This is ridiculous."
Mr. D. sighed, waving a hand. "Fine, lesson over. Instead, you can help me sort through complaints from the centaurs, house elves, and, for some reason, the Bloody Baron." He tossed a pile of parchment at them. "Hope you like bureaucracy!"
Harry groaned, and Draco looked like he wanted to hex himself.
The first complaint read: Too many enchanted grapevines have been creeping into the Forbidden Forest. The centaurs demand an immediate resolution, or they will storm the castle.
"Storm the castle?" Draco scoffed. "Over grapes?"
The next parchment was from the house-elves: Headmaster keeps magically fermenting our pumpkin juice. Students are starting breakfast tipsy.
Harry sighed. "This is a mess."
The Bloody Baron’s complaint, however, was by far the strangest. It read: My chains have been replaced with beaded necklaces. I demand satisfaction.
Mr. D. shrugged. "That one wasn’t me. But hey, Mardi Gras spirit, right?"
Draco put his head in his hands. "I hate it here."
Dionysus poured himself another drink. "Welcome to Hogwarts, kids. Enjoy the chaos."