Hogwarts' Great Hall had now been placed under an extraordinarily advanced Space-Folding Charm.
The long tables, which could originally seat only a few thousand people, now seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.
The guests who had yet to leave after the gala-not only Hogwarts' staff and students, but also curse-breakers who had traveled from Egypt, vampires reeking of garlic, werewolves trying to eat dumplings with knives and forks, and the ghosts floating in the air-all sat together.
The spicy aroma of Hot Pot Base filled the air, mingling with the sweetness of Butterbeer, a homely warmth that made everyone feel utterly at ease.
Douglas Holmes stood at the very center of the High Table.
He had changed out of his host's formal attire and into a somewhat old-looking but meticulously pressed black robe, the one he had worn when he first entered Hogwarts.
He gently tapped the goblet in his hand.
Amplified by magic, the clear clink of glass cut through the noisy laughter, bringing the entire hall to silence.
"Everyone."
Douglas swept his gaze over everyone present.
From the red-faced Ron to Professor McGonagall, sitting perfectly upright;
from Arthur Weasley, still studying a Muggle joke book in a corner, to Voldemort's thoroughly disgruntled holographic projection on the screen.
"Tonight's festivities were a tremendous success. Our ratings went through the roof, Gringotts' servers nearly crashed, and even the Dementors of Azkaban sent their congratulations-though they were only after some emotional fast food."
Good-natured laughter erupted from the audience.
But Douglas did not laugh. His expression grew softer than ever before, with even a hint of solemnity.
He waved his wand, and a large golden book emitting a faint glow appeared out of thin air.
It was no magical prop. It was something he had materialized through