The great hall was filled with a cacophony of voices – students both native and foreign fighting to be heard above the multitude of bodies. It had been thus all year, with bonds of friendship and camaraderie forged so strong that even distance and time couldn’t break. The Tetra-wizard Tournament had surely been a success – even if all teams weren’t happy with their standings. International Magical Cooperation was key, and though there were rivalries between the students (some bordering on hatred) – there was little doubt that they couldn’t at least cooperate when the time came.

The four house tables were laden with any manner of delicacies. The kitchen staff had spared no expense when preparing the feast. It would be the last true meal the visitors would taste at Hogwarts – and it seemed as if the Hogwarts house-elves were determined to show off the best of British cuisine. There were, indeed, dishes representative of each school present, but they seemed to pale in comparison to the food of the host school.

The Headmistress of Hogwarts looked over the crowd, smiling warmly. Though she had been back in the castle for less than a year, Minerva felt as if she had never left. The summer was a much needed break – for both the students and staff, and though the elderly witch would never admit it, she would miss the children whilst away. She was cloaked in robes of deepest black, the Hogwarts crest emblazoned upon the garment. Adorning her head sat a tall, pointed witches hat.

All along the hall hung banners, supporting all four schools equally – and the sky above was clear, stars twinkling merrily above the floating candles. This would be a momentous evening, for sure. The awarding of the House Cup, the declaration of the winners of the Tetra-Wizard Tournament, and the end of term announcements would be sure to excite and impress even the dullest of wizards. For now, however, Minerva was content with filling her palate with the feast before her, enjoying the pleasant and excited company surrounding her.

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Please feel free to post away! Once a crowd gathers, we'll start with the announcement of the fourth task scores, as well as the winners of the Tournament. After that, we'll award the house cup, make some end of year announcements, and ship off to bed! What an amazing year everyone!

Magda sat with her Oberteil peers at the very end of the table, notably ignoring the zoo of native English-speakers still celebrating, thirteen days later, Salem’s win. The Zufrieden had volunteered, or had been volunteered, to form a buffer that kept the peace, that stopped one red-clad wizard from throttling the loud American down the table, or vice versa.

If some of the students from other schools seemed more accepting of the tournament’s outcome, the Durmstrangen had been held back from retaliation by only a thread: the threat of real consequences from the single-most terrifying group of educators in the world outweighed the thirst for revenge. But only just. Magdalena planned to graduate, to be allowed back on Durmstrang soil.

There had, at least, been the solace of close company when they’d returned to their quarters. Uses for pent-up anger and energy. And Magdalena had won the bet. If it had taken a couple of days for that to come to fruition, Lyov had made good on it. More than once. She smiled at the thought before stabbing a bit of steak and looking up to catch her classmate’s eye. Her gaze moved to the staff table, momentarily, and she again wondered if Professor Storm couldn’t be persuaded to return with them. Surely now the snow was a welcome thing.

If there were things she liked about the wizarding community here, things she wanted to explore, she had had plenty of Hogwarts for now. Or, rather, its inhabitants. She brought her fork up and took a healthy bite, listening to Christian and Baldric argue about where each dish came from. She simply gave them a look, eyes icy despite the hall’s overwhelming warmth, and reached for her goblet. “Wine would have been Beauxbatons’ best contribution by far,” she remarked, before taking a sip of what was definitely not wine.

And the Americans… They had been in the right place at the right time. That, or the people in charge had wanted to make a good impression. She and Lyov had discussed it at length, sharing theories and offering each other moody reassurance on breaks from exam preparation. Between that, real exam preparation, and Aliya’s sweeter way with words, Magda had managed not to find herself in another duel with a half-giant.

And so, once her belly was full of food, her first year at Hogwarts would be over. Professor Edolie Fern couldn't speak too clearly about her run as the Ancient Runes instructor. The year had been filled with a mix of ups and downs, but as always, Edie viewed every experience as an opportunity to learn. If anything, her passion for knowledge remained unyielding.

Cheerfully Edie sat with the rest of the staff up at the high table, fondly remembering her times as a student. It felt almost wrong to be up here at the faculty seating; wouldn't she have felt more appropriate sitting amongst the Ravenclaws?

Though she was teeming with the nostalgia of it all, Edolie had basically starved herself all day in preparation for the feast that was about to happen. Her stomach had been rumbling for an hour now, and so she nipped the embarrassment in the bud by putting a silencing spell on it. She was about to have her fill of all the vegan options she could think of. The feast was always a magnificent event and the elves had such a charming way of remembering her dietary preferences.

Finally, the exams were over, the madness was done!! Feeling completely refreshed after an extended bubble bath, Zia had an extra spring in her step as she entered the Great Hall. It was crazy to think that a few months from now, she'd be walking in as a seventh year! It felt like she'd been here for ages.... but at the same time, she couldn't believe she was getting so close to the end!

The feast called for festive clothing to which Zia obliged merrily. This was a good year to be a Ravenclaw, and with a final adjusting one of seven visible bows on her person she really looked the part. She joined her housemates at the Ravenclaw table, noticing that many of her peers' baggy undereyes and miserable looks had been replaced with cheerful chatter and happy faces. Such happiness was contagious - Zia couldn't help but smile at how relieved everyone was! She waved excitedly. It was good to be done, wasn't it?

Her summer plans were great and she was optimistic (of course) about a stellar vacation. She was spending time with lots of friends at Sasha's, bringing her boyfriend to the house on the Amalfi coast.... dessert at the end-of-the-year feast couldn't come fast enough!

Today marked the end of Jai's career at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He'd walked around in kind of a fog all day, wondering what on Earth he was supposed to feel about this. It meant he was a grown-up, he supposed. He was already 18 years old, a year past the legal age of adulthood in the Wizarding world. And what had he done with his time here?

Well, he'd spent a lot of time with his head up in the clouds. Literally. Looking at the stars. Actually, Jai was not a big fan of clouds at all, as they impeded his vision while star-gazing. So he had to get his head really up in there, and he had managed to garner a pretty masterful understanding of astronomy. Not that he'd ever say this about himself, of course. Some things never change.

His anxiety was certainly better than it had been in his first year, when he could barely see straight because he was so overwhelmed by the eclectic design of the castle. So many paintings in such wrong order, such a little Jai. That part was true, too -- he had grown a meter during his stay here. He'd grown in a lot more ways than meters, actually. Despite his ambiguity towards his Hufflepuff sorting, today he proudly sported a Hufflepuff-yellow cardigan and walked with his head held high into the Great Hall.  Jai joined his housemates at the table with only a momentarily gaze of longing towards the Slytherin table, searching for his girlfriend's face.

Ferreole LeBeau was fast asleep at the Hufflepuff table.

That was nonsense, of course, but he gave a very good impression of it. His eyelids appeared closed. His throat released a low, rumbling snore that vibrated up through is nose and ended in a long, whistling snort. It was a delicate sort of snort, artful, high and whining and somewhat reminiscent of grumperdink howl. (If a grumperdink were a thing, which, as far as anyone but the contributors to the Quibbler knew, it was not, but if it were, Ferreole’s snore may, perhaps, have sounded like it).

The snore seemed to float, rising higher, and higher, to the lofty rafters of the enchanted ceiling, and when it faded, Ferreole, of course, was gone.

Oh not gone gone, perhaps, but gone from his spot at the table, near the entrance, to have popped up from under the table and shimmied onto a spot on the bench amongst the Zufrieden, piling vegetables on their plate with exclamations of general dismay. And then he was amongst the Ravenclaws, insulting the stuffed Salem crocodile that was sitting there, with an anatomically improbable suggestion about its ancestors. He was here, there, everywhere, a flutter of patchwork purple silks and jingly silver bells, his tall, glittering purple hat bedecked with silver streamers that fluttered behind him like a giant, one-legged, stomping shark terrorizing a sea of students, hands clapping shoulders, booming, crackling laughter echoing madly above the rest of the ruckus.

If his eyes, perhaps, were misty, he didn’t stay any one place long enough for them to be commented upon.

Oh, how they had changed!

Round, soft cheeks had straightened into lean, angular planes. Awkward spots cleared. Limbs stretched, hair grown, height obtained. They chattered in French, Russian, German. Perhaps just words, but more than they’d known a year ago. They cast spells they had not known, stood straighter.

Another school year, come to close.

How many faces? Looking at last that final threshold, the precipice from which all children fell never to return, into the perils and trials of adulthood, beyond where the safe haven of Salem could protect them. The Tournament, and the performance of their champions, ought to be enough to tell him they would face those trials just fine, but Ferreole’s heart felt full and heavy nonetheless.

He settled, at last, at the head table—though it was unlikely that would last past the formal announcements but even he, at least, could be properly formal for long enough to get through them—but his peg leg, and one, entirely shoeless and rainbow-toe-socked bedecked foot wriggled out from under the tablecloth, and clucked his tongue, once as he murmured (an entirely uncharacteristic volume for the man who usually had only a setting of ‘BOOMING’), tones wrapped in Cajun and butter and gravel alike, “Ah, dey have it, dem. Joie de vivre. De yout’.  May dey remember it. Keep it close.” He tapped his fingers on the table, and tried not to be sad, tried not to think of letting go and loss, “Dey’ve earned it, non?” He chortled, and leaned forward, and philosophic musings gave way to ever-present mischief as he cackled happily to himself, “For now.”

All that they'd faced!

All that they'd done!

There were no words for his pride, nor limits on his love.

He raised his glass of pumpkin juice, a silent toast he spoke to no one else - to the Champions of Salem, and all those that would follow them in the years to come.

It was staggering to think a whole year had passed already, Ambrose reflected amongst his happy, noisy housemates. His fourth year had been a memorable one, what with the tournament. Never had Hogwarts felt so full of people, especially this evening with all the tables packed with students, staff and extra visitors.

This year he'd finally begun to control his magic a little more reliably, with Professor Kesali's help over the nonverbal magic. It was taking ages, but at least there were less results rather than the wrong ones. His end of term marks were also hopefully a little improved since Christmas, what with all the help and focus studying with Cyhirae had given. He leaned over a little to see if he could spot her, laughing with Juni and the rest of the Ravenclaws, and smiled to himself.

Perhaps most impressively, by extension, Professor Trishna hadn't found reason to expel or kill him to stop him being his daughter's boyfriend. Winnie and Ambrose had conspired that Professor Storm might try, but here he was, all four limbs intact, eating dinner and off on the train home tomorrow.

So what if they probably hadn't won the house cup, or the tournament? Gryffindor had won the quidditch! The house was in fine spirits and Ambrose momentarily indulged himself in a quidditch chant that was started by an overenthusiastic seventh year boy as he reached for the roast potatoes.

"Roar ROAR Gryffindor, roar ROAR Gryffindor!"

As the first course faded from the tables, it was time to quiet down and listen for the announcements and awards. Professor McGonagall took the lead, well versed after so many years. As she stood, all eyes turned to look up at her at the podium, and the staff looked onwards.

"Another year gone, and what a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were, though for the majority, you have a whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year begins."

There was a tittering of laughter from the youngest years who hadn't heard these quips before.

"We may have had a world-famous, international tournament at Hogwarts this year, but the result that you have all been waiting for of course is this year's House Cup."

There was a shuffle of buttocks on benches and feet on the floor as young heads looked upwards, expectantly at the banners hanging around the room from the rafters.

"To honour the participation with wit, quick thinking, great skill and teamwork, I have some last minute points to award to our Hogwarts champions. Twenty-five points a piece to Josh Harcroft, Raine Almasy, Philip Kinsey, Paolo Rossi, Sasha Schlagenweit, Mason Hawkins, Alexandra Carstairs, Atticus Roark, Figaro Sellaphix, Elysia Hughes, Erin Harper, Deborah Clarencieux, and Gracie Slant!"

There were a murmuring, and then great applause rang out from all over the room, housemates clapping their champions on the backs, rubbing their heads, excited that this last minute burst of points could have brought them up in the standings. But the bright Ravenclaws knew.

"Which leaves the standings thus: in fourth place, Hufflepuff with seven hundred and twenty-eight, in third place, Gryffindor with seven hundred and eighty-five, then Slytherin with one thousand and six, leaving this year's House Cup winners, Ravenclaw, with one thousand, one hundred and forty-four."

The room erupted in cheers - as above the heads of the students from all four schools, the Ravenclaw banners appeared to replace the ones that had hung over them while eating their first course. The Heads of houses shook hands with Professor Trishna and congratulated him politely.

It took a while for everyone to settle down again before the final speeches of the visiting Head Professors and the formalities to finish the tournament could take place. Salem victorious would carry the Tournament Trophy home to America and the Goblet of Fire's flames puffed out before them all, ready to sleep until next time.

As pudding appeared on the long tables, the final hours of the year had begun. Next year many of the students would return to continue their studies, though the eldest would be moving on with their NEWT results, and some of the fifth years would be moving on too, rather than returning to study their NEWTs. There would be undoubtedly, some new professors, a new head boy and girl, newly appointed prefects, and a far less crowded castle. But Hogwarts would always be a home from home for all who entered it.