Harry had been wary of the invitation, since the last masquerade he'd attended hadn't ended well. He toyed with the idea of dressing as a cheesy vampire again, but was sternly reminded by Bob that it hadn't gone over well the last time. Instead, Harry found (much to his surprise) a set of expensive robes in his closet. Robes that were suited for someone of the merlin's stature, although without the pomp and circumstance Harry would have associated with the man. These were more fitting of what Harry imagined Merlin (the original one, who had served Arthur) would have worn to court. Practical, yet power seemed woven into their very threads.
He wore the robes, but took his own staff. The wound in his leg was healing, but he still limped a bit as he went into the hall. The box he was given was tucked into the robes for later examination, but he stared at the attendant who was holding out a mask for him to wear.
"Are you serious?" he said.
"It is sir's favor for the evening."
"What about those hats and rings the others are getting?"
"This is to be sir's favor for the evening."
After a few more minutes of this, Harry gave in. He put the mask on, and looked over the room. Harry caught the eye of his personal waiter, who immediately moved towards him with a selection of dark bottle on a tray. "Your microbrew, sir," the young man said.
"From Mac's, right?" Harry asked, picking up the bottle.
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."
Harry nodded, and took a drink. Ah, that was Mac's, alright. He nodded, and took a second. Then he waved the waiter away.
Turning, Harry saw a dark-haired woman in gold, cream, and blue. She seemed as suited to be here as he did, so he moved closer and offered her the untouched bottle. "Would the lady care for a drink?" he asked.