Chapter 3
Breakfast at Hogwarts had always been a relatively orderly affair—until Dionysus took over. The students entered the Great Hall to find the enchanted ceiling displaying a sky of swirling purples and golds, confetti drifting lazily through the air. The long wooden tables had been replaced with low couches covered in velvet, and rather than the usual spread of eggs, toast, and pumpkin juice, the tables were piled high with exotic fruits, cheeses, and mysteriously glowing drinks.
"What fresh hell is this?" Hermione muttered, eyeing a goblet of something that smelled suspiciously like ambrosia.
Ron, meanwhile, was already stuffing his face with what looked like grapes that crackled with tiny sparks of magic. "Mmf, not bad!"
"Students of Hogwarts!" Dionysus called, lounging across the head table as though he were reclining in a Roman bathhouse. "I have decided that traditional meals are boring. Thus, I bring you the first-ever Great Hall Bacchanalia!"
McGonagall, standing beside him, looked absolutely livid. "Headmaster, this is highly inappropriate!"
"Nonsense, Minnie," Dionysus waved her off. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Shouldn’t it also be the most fabulous?"
The students murmured in varying degrees of excitement and horror. The Slytherins, mostly unimpressed, tried to keep their dignity intact by nibbling on the finest cheeses. The Gryffindors were already daring each other to drink the glowing goblets, and the Hufflepuffs had somehow started an impromptu conga line.
Just then, the doors burst open, and a very frantic Filch stumbled in. "Headmaster! We have a situation!"
Dionysus took another sip from his goblet, utterly unfazed. "Do tell, dear caretaker."
Filch wheezed. "There’s... a stampede of enchanted goats in the courtyard."
McGonagall stiffened. "Goats?"
Filch’s eye twitched. "Yes. Goats. And they’re wearing party hats."
There was a long silence. Then, from the Hufflepuff table, someone whispered, "That actually sounds kind of amazing."
Dionysus perked up. "Ah, a spontaneous celebration! My influence is working faster than I expected. Delightful!"
McGonagall looked ready to faint. "Headmaster, we cannot have magical goats running wild on school grounds!"
"Why not?" Dionysus gestured lazily. "It builds character."
"We don’t need character," she hissed. "We need sanity."
Dionysus sighed dramatically. "Ugh, fine, I'll handle it." He flicked his wrist, and a shimmering purple mist rolled through the Great Hall. "There. The goats will now only appear during officially sanctioned school festivities. Happy?"
McGonagall was not happy. But before she could argue, Peeves swooped through the air, playing a trumpet terribly, followed by several first-years wearing laurel wreaths and throwing confetti.
Harry turned to Hermione. "Do you think Dumbledore is laughing at us right now?"
Hermione sighed. "Without a doubt."