The chaos had barely settled when Filch burst through the courtyard doors, his lantern swinging wildly in one hand.
"STUDENTS! STUDENTS, GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!"
His voice cracked across the ruined courtyard like a whip.
Snow was everywhere—piled into walls, craters, broken barricades, and half-collapsed forts.
Dozens of enchanted snowmen still stood frozen mid-battle, some wearing house scarves, others holding sticks.
The ground looked less like a school courtyard and more like a war-torn battlefield carved from winter itself.
Filch looked one step away from fainting.
Professor Quirrell stumbled out behind him, already shivering beneath his turban.
"Y-y-yes, p-please, students, t-this is q-quite enough—"
Alexander didn't even turn around.
He raised his arm calmly.
"Attack the invaders."
For half a second, silence hung in the air.
Then—
WHUMP.
WHUMP.
WHUMP.
A fresh volley of enchanted snowballs was launched by all the students.
They struck Filch and Quirrell.
Filch let out a strangled noise that sounded like a dying kettle.
"MYYYYYY COURTYARD!"
Professor Quirrell yelped as a stray snowball clipped his shoulder, instantly frosting half his robes solid.
Behind his head, the faintest hiss of irritation whispered from beneath the turban.
The noseless parasite was not pleased.
Quirrell stuttered violently—half from fear, half from the cold.
Alexander finally lowered his hand.
"Retreat. Time to clean yourselves up. Prepare for the dinner feast."
For a heartbeat, the courtyard froze again—
Then cheers erupted.
Slytherins, Ravenclaws, and allied students scattered, laughing and shouting as they sprinted back toward the castle entrances.
Victory chants echoed through the halls.
Operation Snow War had concluded successfully.
Alexander walked calmly through the devastation, completely unbothered by the destruction around him.
Filch started shoveling snow with sheer rage.
"You'll ALL be scrubbing floors for a YEAR—!"
Quirrell had already fled indoors, robes still frosted, desperately seeking warmth while muttering apologies to the presence on the back of his head.
After freshening up and changing into clean formal robes, Alexander entered the Great Hall early.
The Christmas Show would begin soon.
Hogwarts Christmas decorations had a warm golden light that filled the space.
Enchanted snow drifted gently from the ceiling.
Long tables were lined with festive decorations, candles, and shimmering ornaments.
Alexander took his seat, and he didn't wait long.
The Weasley Twins slid into the seats across from him.
Fred folded his arms dramatically.
"Why did you attack us first?"
George leaned in, equally offended.
"Slytherin should've knocked out second. We could have been in the final battle."
Fred nodded.
"Epic showdown."
George added, "Legendary finish."
Alexander looked at them, utterly unrepentant.
"It's called strategy."
Fred blinked.
George tilted his head.
Fred smirked first. "Like asking us for help?"
George's grin widened. "That was brilliant, by the way."
Fred laughed. "The look on their faces when we attacked—"
"Memorable," George finished.
Fred glanced around the hall. "Hopefully Peeves captured all of it."
Alexander chuckled softly.
"Is everything prepared?"
The twins' expressions shifted instantly into matching mischief.
They leaned forward together.
"Yes."
"All ready."
"We're just waiting for your signal."
Alexander gave a small approving nod and waved them off.
They vanished back into the festive crowd like agents awaiting activation.
Moments later, Cho entered the Great Hall, scanning until she spotted him.
She walked over, smiling as she took the seat beside him.
"That was fun."
Alexander smirked faintly. "I thought so too."
Cho leaned slightly closer. "So what now?"
He gestured lightly toward the grand decorations, the gathering students, the festive atmosphere humming with anticipation.
"Dinner," he said calmly.
A small pause.
"And a show."
Cho laughed, covering her mouth slightly.
"I was expecting that."
Alexander huffed a quiet laugh in return.
As the hall filled, the last echoes of the courtyard battle faded behind them—
Replaced by warmth, celebration…
…and whatever chaos Alexander Chen had planned next.