At the same moment, the Beauxbatons Carriage camp presented an entirely different scene.
Enormous Hippogriffs and Veela sculpted from ice refracted a dreamlike radiance in the morning light.
The French students, dressed in elegant formal attire, tapped their wand tips against the ice sculptures, adding the final exquisite details.
The sweet scent of a hot chocolate fountain mingled with the fragrance of expensive perfume in the air.
Their Christmas refreshments consisted of a sparkling tower of macarons.
Elegant and exquisite, like a fairy tale itself.
Meanwhile, the great Durmstrang ship moored on the Black Lake presented a starkly different picture.
On deck, a group of bare-chested, muscular students shouted battle cries under Headmaster Karkaroff's stern gaze.
They lined up and, one after another, jumped without hesitation into the bone-chilling waters of the Black Lake.
Every plunge sent up a huge splash and a cloud of white, icy mist.
Their celebration was a contest of will and flesh, full of the Northern Border's ruggedness and competitive spirit.
Inside the Great Hall, Dumbledore officially announced the start of the Christmas gift exchange.
At first, everything was perfectly normal.
"Wow! Skiving Snackboxes from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!"
"I got a Chocolate Frog gift pack from Honeydukes! There's even a Dumbledore card inside!"
"A Portable Swamp! Cool!"
Cheers rang out one after another.
The students picked up their gifts from beneath the Christmas tree and unwrapped them, filling the air with the sweetness of candy and simple joy.
Suddenly.
A piercing wail tore through the cheerful atmosphere.
Everyone looked over.
An older Gryffindor boy, his face ashen, held up a sheet of parchment with trembling hands.
His expression looked as though he had just been kissed by a Dementor.
On the parchment, a clear, printed heading, possessed of a certain logical beauty, pronounced his