About 6:30pm
Entrance courtyard

Snow fell lazily from the sky, drifting to land on the bare head of the Headmistress of Hogwarts School. All was quiet in the entrance courtyard, arrivals for the ball still making their way to the castle. It was a serene moment, one that was sure to be burst at any moment. Decorations were in place, champions knew their place, and students were milling around in the entrance hall, greeting their partners and goofing off. Everything was going according to plan, now if only her date would arrive, things would simply be perfect.

She had agreed to having Herschel Reid accompany her to the ball, though she hoped most profusely that he didn’t think anything romantic of it. At her age, Minerva didn’t even think of romance often, and when she did, it was usually that two students were being too romantic and she needed to intervene. Her slight heels tapped patiently upon the stones beneath her feet, moving in tune to one of the latest Three Owl Standard numbers. The band wasn’t particularly Minerva’s cup of tea, but she knew the importance of keeping up with her pupils… and besides… it had a catchy tune.

Thestral-drawn carriages started ambling slowly up the lawns, decorated in lively silvers and golds. The snow, normally a burden, was behaving quite amicably and adding a flavor of ambience that no amount of spells and charms could recreate. She nodded her head to the approaching visitors and avoided conversation at all costs. Small talk had never been Minerva’s strong suit, and just because she was headmistress now didn’t mean she’d all of a sudden begin.

Despite her dour looks, some people simply don’t understand body language. As one man came to talk amicably about this or that, Minerva’s attention was distracted. She took her eye from the lawns to look at the gentleman, someone Minerva didn’t recognize. Oh well. She nodded politely as he went on a tirade about the current quidditch standings and Minerva couldn’t help but automatically assume that he worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports. No one else could be so excited about a game in their current surroundings.

Always a man of great pride- in both Hogwarts and his former house of Ravenclaw- Herschel donned one of his fancier sets of dress robes for the Yule Ball. He felt a bit silly about being so excited for the event. Not because it was the Yule Ball, but because he was going to be spending the evening with Minerva McGonagall and he would be back at Hogwarts, rubbing elbows with great educators he greatly admired.

He had arranged to arrive at the ball with his nephew, Tarron, and his nephew's wife Aisling. He would not be able to make his grand appearance on the arm of Minerva, since she was already going to be at Hogwarts. But he could be sure to arrive on time so that he would be able to spend the entire evening properly entertaining his date.

Their carriage rolled up from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. As it came to a halt, the door opened and he made his way out of the carriage. He was careful to watch where he stepped, not wanting to make a mess of his shoes, and smiled when he saw Minerva greeting other guests who had been arriving. Herschel waited on Tarron and Aisling to find their feet upon the ground before approaching Minerva.

Herschel gave her a grand bow, then lifted her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. "Good evening, Minerva," he greeted. "You look quite lovely this evening." He stepped to the side, motioning politely toward his nephew. "It is my pleasure to introduce you to my nephew- Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Tarron Knight, accompanied by his wife Aisling."

The Yule Ball! Grandest of occasions, the event of the year, and tied to the eminent school and tournament. It would be a place to be seen, and a place to flaunt connections and fame.

Tarron could without, quite frankly. As much as he did enjoy these events at times, and knew Aisling did as well, the excess of pomp and circumstance tended to make him a bit gruff. The dress his wife had picked out was stunning, if a bit nontraditional - which suited her well, he knew. She liked to blend that kind of fashion, and he was content to let her - and quite content to admire the results. Fashion had never been a strong suit or interest of his, of course.

They arrived with Hershel, something Tarron was rather pleased with; he enjoyed spending time with his uncle, especially in the recent months. He stepped from the carriage, evening cloak swept over his arm as he turned to help Aisling from the coach to the snow-covered courtyard walkway. They'd be able to see their children tonight, something he was quite looking forward to as well, though he expected Aisling would quite take care of the doting portion of their evening.

She had taken his arm, and he followed Hershel when the man strode towards Minerva. Tarron smiled at the woman politely; he had great respect for the Headmistress, though she was a tad fearsome as a Wizengamot elder. He was quite glad to have her on the Wizengamot's council, even if she did occasionally make him want to rip his mustache off.

"Headmistress," he said, taking off his hat respectfully and bowing. "A pleasure to see you this evening."

Aisling was quite glad that Herschel had chosen to attend with them. She couldn't help but be concerned over him experiencing such a loss. And those of Tarron's family who didn't despise her were rather a precious thing. Their daughters needed more family who were not walled away from them by the Statute of Secrecy.

And while she would be able to see them this night, it was more the bridge to their break than any great opportunity to speak with them. There were far too many dignitaries, Professors, preening socialites of various sorts, for Aisling to escape that long from the implications of Tarron's position. The careful half-truths and quiet smiles of her work may have prepared her for such occasions, but such also left her with no opportunity to truly rest from them.

Headmistress McGonagall was both an intimidating figure and a reassuring one, and Aisling allowed herself a moment of gratefulness that, despite only taking the subject for a few years, that she had never done poorly in Transfiguration. "It is an honor to be here." She accompanied the words with a curtsy and a smile. No matter what else could be said about the event, just to be welcomed there on Tarron's arm was far more than she would have expected some years past.

Etiquette could only take one so far, and when a twinge of pain found its way into her joints from the cold, Minerva excused herself gracefully from the avid quidditch enthusiast. Others came and went, none long enough to linger for conversation – most favoring the warmth inside to the bitter cold that came with the nightfall. Then they arrived, with a grand flourish that only Hogwarts could manage, and Minerva ambled forward to greet her date and his accoutrements.

After the kiss to her gloved hand, Minerva looked up with a twinge of rose coloring to her cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Herschel,” She said to the man before looking around to the other two that had stepped from the carriage with him. “Mr. Knight,” She said, keeping her hands clasped in front of her. Tarron Knight wasn’t exactly on Minerva’s highest list of favorites, despite his high posting within magical governance. In some circles, he was considered Minerva’s boss, and the headmistress of Hogwarts respected him for that reason alone. “A pleasure, as always,” and tilted her head in what would have to do as a small bow as well. She didn't dislike the man; he was fair and just, and he fit the role of Chief Warlock very well. That said, the two would probably not be found enjoying a spot of tea and idle chit-chat. 

Then she turned to the decidedly more feminine of the trio and a genuine smile split her features. “Mrs. Knight, we’re glad to have you,” She said, offering her hand for a quick shake. “I hope your trip was comfortable?” she asked to no one in particular before turning on her heel and beckoning for the party to follow her into the castle, to the warmth that spilled like light from within.

"The pleasure, I assure you, is all mine," Herschel said to Minerva. He assumed the color on her cheeks was the fault of the cold. But it looked nice on her. She was a handsome woman. A fact not lost on wizards like Herschel Reid. Any wizard of a certain age would admire her poise and classic good looks. And if they did not, then it was certainly their loss. Then again, each man and woman had their own specific tastes. His leaned toward older women of power, poise, and intelligence. Minerva had all of those qualities and then some.

...It had slipped Herschel's mind that Tarron was familiar with Minerva from his work. Had he realized his mistake, he would have felt foolish. But mistakes were often made, and he was simply attempting to be polite and obey the regulations that society put forth for him. Lucky for Herschel, neither pointed out his error.

"The trip was quite pleasant," he said to Minerva. "Though I am glad to be here. Carriages have never been my favorite mode of transportation." He much preferred apparation, but you couldn't apparate in and out of Hogwarts. "I do hope the preparations for the event went smoothly for you, Minerva. I have no doubt it has been a very busy day for you and your staff." Hopefully she had not worked too hard. The evening was going to be long for her. She was more or less the hostess of the Yule Ball, and hosting was an exhausting thing.

Tarron nodded gravely but politely to Minerva. As was usual in all encounters, his wife received the more genuine reactions from whomever they met - reactions both good and bad. A genuine smile here, a curled lip there...the changes in expression were usually more telling than many realized.

"Of course," he said, all to happy to proceed into the warmth of the castle and out of the biting chill outdoors. The interior of the castle had been quite done up for the ball, and he did take a moment to admire the glittering and impressive decorations. The band was warming up, and already guests were beginning to fill the hall alongside students. A few of the choices of attire on the young ladies caught his eye and earned a scowl, however. By Merlin's beard, you could see their knees! What sort of dress was that to wear to a formal occasion?

Still, Tarron was not the sort to question such matters openly unless events nessesitated it. He had to hope his daughters were not taking these as examples, however. Hershel was rather attentive of Minerva, as was proper, and Tarron shot them a glance before looking down at Aisling. "They appear to have outdone themselves," he said, a bit gruffly.

Such a pleasant greeting from Minerva warmed Aisling's heart, and she gave the other woman an appreciative, friendly smile as she shook her hand. "Quite comfortable." She then followed the others into the castle, grateful for the warmth of the place.

"They appear to have outdone themselves,"

"Very much so. Most impressive." There was a touch of awe in her voice. Just the idea of organizing such an event, let alone the various troubles such as the dragon pox scare, made it coming off this well quite the feat.

Her husband's scowl did not go unnoticed. But if shortened skirts were the worst to be faced that night, then one could hardly complain too much. "I am looking forward to seeing the girls in their dresses. Rowena was terribly excited about the evening." Having their energetic daughter enthused about a night of fancy clothing and dancing was rather a relief.

She stopped in the entrance hall and looked out across the heads of students and the staff intermixed to try and keep a semblance of order. Minerva was a huge fan of organization, though tonight she’d have to settle for organized chaos at best. It was a compromise, but one that she’d be willing to make as long as she didn’t have to deal with excessive stupidity all evening. “Honestly, Herschel, the planning was rather smooth. Your staff were very cooperative and provided much needed assistance in setting things in motion,” She said, smiling at the retired headmaster.

He’d been the headmaster directly preceding Minerva and the staff he’d had in place before her return to the castle were truly indispensable in the preparation process. Few knew the work put into such an extravagant event, and even fewer could pull it off on such short notice. Herschel had left the post less than two months previous, and yet the imprint he left on the castle helped to make the ball come together seamlessly.

Professor McGonagall had turned her attention to Herschel, momentarily ignoring their other guests, and in rectifying her mistake she caught only the tail end of their conversation. “I’m sure they’ll be just as elegant as their parents,” She said, smiling to the couple. It was amazing how in love they were, even with their obvious differences, both in upbringing and personality. “They should be down shortly. Let’s just hope that inviting the younger years was a good idea, yes?”

He felt himself bursting with pride as Minerva referred to those at Howarts as his staff. They were not his anymore, but the sentiment was a lovely one and he very much appreciated it. He missed Hogwarts. But Minerva was doing a wonderful job- not that he would expect anything else from her. Any woman who could follow in Dumbledore's footsteps was a woman to be respected. Her competence was unquestionable. "I am glad that it sent smoothly." She did not need the added stress of that having been a dramatic to-do.

Herschel smiled at the mention of Rowena. "I am certain both she and Sophia will be the prettiest little girls at the ball." And likely the best and most appropriately dressed. He, too, had noticed some of the shorter skirts of those in attendance. Such an event as this warranted floor length gowns, not party dresses. What was wrong with the youth of today? He would never understand them, that was for sure.

"I think it is lovely to include the younger years on such an event. I know they would be sad to be left out of the party. I know my grandchildren are quite excited. They haven't had much to look forward to these last few months. My granddaughter is more excited, however. Naturally so." Events like this were more a chance for women to shine than men. Of course, Herschel also enjoyed dressing up once in his finest. But he always pretended otherwise.

"Hopefully they just have sense enough to take themselves to bed when they get tired. I remember being that age and trying to stay up late. My grandchildren do that at times, it makes them quite cranky. Have the first years a different curfew than he rest of the party?" he asked Minerva.

Tarron suspected Rowena’s dress would be more acceptable than most he’d seen so far. He could at least be assured than neither of his daughters were so foolish as to wear some of the frighteningly lacy things flitting about – or one of the dresses that rather looked like a crinoline explosion.

He did smile politely at Minerva for her comment, bowing his head in thanks. Tarron’s own thoughts on that comment were simple – that was rather the goal of raising them properly, was it not?

At their mention of the younger years, Tarron turned - looking at the hall again with some level of concern. The letters the girls sent back did mention some of their classmates in short detail – but that detail was enough to be terribly worrying. Especially when it came to the sanctity of the ball itself. Young rascals were not the sort one wanted running about this kind of event.

“One can hope the pomp puts them on their best behavior,” he agreed finally.

There was a just a little of a flush to her cheeks with all the compliments to her daughters-something far more likely to bring it than kind words in reference to herself. She sent Herschel the flash of a smile. "I am so glad to hear they're excited. It is good to have something to look forward to." And his grandchildren could most certainly use that, these days.

"And I fear I might have tried to stay up late were I their age as well. Not that it is good for them, but it's hard to begrudge them excitement over the Yule Ball of all events." Now, these days heading to sleep early sounded so pleasant. At least, assuming that she could sleep.

She fussed a little with her scarf, and tugged it to cover more of her shoulders. Despite the ambiance of the Great Hall, she still felt somewhat chilled.

The small talk continued through the walk into the vast and decorative Great Hall. Minerva pointed out things as the quartet progressed, things like “Hagrid had quite a time bringing in so many trees this term. The usual twelve weren’t enough, apparently,” and “Live fairies in the bushes – I swear I can’t keep Miss Grimlish out of them,”. Tarron and Aisling probably had no clue who Miss Grimlish was and Minerva knew Herschel’s stand on half-breeds, but none of those thoughts crossed Minerva’s mind.

The long house tables were gone for the evening, and even the head table was replaced with smaller circular tables where children and adults alike were already starting to mill around. The Hogwarts Headmistress led the group to an empty table toward the front of the room, far enough away from the band to avoid the annoying noises associated with setting up (even with magic it could be a bit annoying), yet not so far that she couldn’t keep a cat-like eye on the crowd; after all, the job of a headmistress never ended.

As she approached the table, the seats around slid out far enough for the group to slide in, and when Minerva sat, her chair slid back under the table. She took a moment to look at the menu – mainly out of habit more than anything else. She’d already been over the menu several times and knew every detail, but wanted to offer a chance for the rest of her meal-mates to read over it.

“I hear the roast duck is delightful,” She said with a bit of a satisfied smile. Of course the roast duck was delightful – this was Hogwarts, everything was delightful.