Illusory § Order of the Phoenix

XV. PRESERVATION VS. PROGRESS

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"To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands— welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!" called Dumbledore with a beaming smile, throwing his beard over his shoulder in a flourish.

Antares listened to the ringing laughter that echoed at the Headmaster's antics. His fellow professors were helping themselves to the feast that appeared before them, heaving portions of meat and vegetables onto their plates. Minerva herself looked pleased with the roast duck she was carving into. Antares, however, made no move to reach for anything on the table.

It wasn't an irrational fear, not entirely. The chances of receiving a second vision after one has already occurred were rare— but not impossible.

You have to eat something, he reasoned.

Releasing a sharp breath,  Antares carved from the roast beef, still steaming, followed by some delightfully aromatic sauteed spinach. He grabbed the massive bowl of mashed potatoes on his right and scooped a dollop onto his plate. It looked a bit bland if he was being honest. The house elves weren't known to be terrible cooks by any standard. Yet, it still left Antares a bit unsatisfied.

The mash was far from his mother's colcannon.

It was a shame Hogwarts had a no-alcohol rule set for the feasts, even for the professors at the high table. There was nothing that stated alcohol was expressly forbidden, at least not for the adults living in the castle. Flitwick had revealed he occasionally held a get-together in the shared space of the Faculty Tower, and Antares bet that Snape kept a secret stash hidden somewhere.

They weren't naive about it either. The more senior students, undeterred by the school's regulations, manage to introduce alcohol into the equation. They threw parties in the various common rooms, sneaking alcohol through the winding passageways of the castle. The ones who were of age didn't bother to hide it. They would slink down to Hogsmeade any night of the week if the chance presented itself, spending their galleons on firewiskey and stumbling back to their beds. It was a case of 'been there, done that.'

Antares knew it. Dumbledore knew it. As did Minerva and Severus.

It was a sort of unspoken agreement between houses. A good party was perhaps the only time all students could unite under one roof. Amid the revelry, house rivalries and prejudices melted away, at least temporarily. It was the rare (and only) time when a Gryffindor could share a laugh with a Slytherin— a feat that even the nightly dinner feast couldn't accomplish. Each house would take turns hosting, each contributing its own personal touch.

Of course, Slytherin House held a monthly social that was usually 'green exclusive,' a derivative term that barred invitation to the other houses. Antares wouldn't lie—  it was mainly for the benefit of the children of the more prestigious families. For the young heirs and heiresses of Slytherin, it provided a path of defiance. On these nights, they could break away from the spiteful traditions they had to adhere to. Like most things within the snake pit, it was a topic that many did not speak about.