I've a feeling I ought not go into details, since it could harm the young man's reputation when he arrives next year ... but it involved the celebratory cake, a well-positioned Filibuster's firework and not a little bit of cleaning up.

(Luckily, we were near the back. I don't know if Enola will ever get that particularly lurid shade of pink frosting out of her robes, no matter how many times she scourgifies it.)