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Chapter 36: Happy Halloween
Chapter 36: Happy Halloween
Hogwarts' Halloween feast this year was bustling with activity.
The Great Hall was adorned with pumpkins specially cultivated by Hagrid, and enchanted black bats swarmed beneath the ceiling, flying back and forth in groups.
However, the ghosts who were usually seen around the castle did not appear on this night when the spirit world and the human world were closest.
Those in the know understood why.
Today was not only Halloween but also the 500th death anniversary of Gryffindor's ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, known as Nick for short.
This was a significant day for every ghost, so Nick had invited all the ghosts from Hogwarts and even some from outside the school.
With Dumbledore's permission, he borrowed a room in the castle's dungeons to host his 500th Deathday Party.
Thus, the ghosts who usually livened up the Halloween feast were absent from the Great Hall tonight.
Rumors had it that the progressive Headmaster Dumbledore would invite a Skeleton Dance Troupe to perform and entertain the guests tonight.
However, these were just rumors, and when the students arrived at the Great Hall, there was no sign of the Skeleton Dance Troupe.
Despite the absence of ghosts and the Skeleton Dance Troupe, Halloween remained a beloved holiday for the students.
The feast was even more lavish than the one at the start of the term, and at the end of the meal, each student received so many candies that they couldn't fit them all in their robe pockets.
For the younger students, this was an irresistible attraction.
"Last time, after we left, what else did Slughorn say to you, Sherlock?"
Hagrid, who seemed to have had a bit to drink, slurred his words as he asked at the staff table.
Upon hearing his question, Sherlock didn't respond immediately, but Professors Mcgonagall and Flitwick couldn't help but frown.
"Don't ask such things, Hagrid", Professor Mcgonagall said disapprovingly. "Their private conversation is none of our business."
Hagrid then came to his senses, scratching his head awkwardly and chuckling.
"Sorry, I tend to speak out of turn after a few drinks."
Sherlock waved it off, pulling out the pendant hanging from his chest.
"There's nothing to hide. He just gave me a small vial of luck potion."
The tiny potion bottle, with its slowly flowing luck potion, indeed looked like a work of art, shimmering in the candlelight.
A voice even colder and more hollow than Sherlock's suddenly chimed in.
"Brewing such a potion is extremely complex. The slightest mistake can lead to irreparable consequences. He must really be generous."
The speaker was Snape.
It was rare for him to join the professors' casual conversation, and his tone was as unfriendly as ever, as if he was deliberately finding fault.
Sherlock put the luck potion back into his robe, nodding calmly.
"He is indeed more generous than Professor Snape. We've known each other for so long, yet you've never given me anything."
Snape was momentarily speechless, caught off guard by Sherlock's retort.
Professor Mcgonagall's stern face softened slightly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Professors Flitwick and Sprout didn't bother to hide their laughter, bursting out right there and then.
Even Dumbledore smiled and spoke up.
"Horace is only generous with you. I’ve known him for nearly seventy years, and he has never given me a Christmas gift."
Then he shot a teasing glance at Snape, blinking his eyes. "Of course, I haven’t received one from Severus either."
"Hmph!" Snape grunted coldly, his tone hard. "I never celebrate Christmas."
Dumbledore chuckled heartily.
"That’s no problem. Today, we’re all celebrating Halloween. How about we all have a drink together?"
Every professor at the long table, including Snape, raised their goblets in a toast.
"Happy Halloween!" the professors chorused.
"Happy Halloween", Sherlock muttered, shrugging his shoulders.
They then downed the contents of their goblets in one go.
It had been two months since Sherlock arrived at Hogwarts, and during this time, he had discovered that Dumbledore was the stabilizing force of the magical school. Not only did the students trust their headmaster implicitly, but the professors also held him in high regard. In fact, Dumbledore’s authority at Hogwarts was absolute, and it was an authority that everyone in the castle genuinely respected.
He mumbled to himself, understanding why the original owner of his body had a brainwashed-like admiration for Dumbledore. Growing up without a complete family and considering Hogwarts his second home, it was only natural for him to hold the head of this "home" in the highest esteem.
While the students and teachers in the Great Hall were enjoying the Halloween feast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not so fortunate. The Ghosts’ Deathday Party was indeed not a place for the living. Ignoring the chilling atmosphere and the grating, saw-like music, the so-called "delicacies" at the Deathday Party were something Harry and his friends could not stomach.
After enduring almost the entire feast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally decided to return to the Great Hall for a proper Halloween dinner.
"Hopefully, there’s still some pudding left for us", Ron said, shivering and pulling his robes tighter around himself.
They tried to smile politely at the ghosts around them before leaving the Deathday Party venue.
As they hurried back to the Great Hall, a familiar, icy, and menacing voice echoed in Harry’s ear again.
"Rip you... tear you... kill you."
Harry’s face froze, and he instinctively stopped in his tracks.
Hermione and Ron noticed his sudden change and asked, puzzled, "What’s wrong, Harry?"
Harry leaned against the wall, signaling them to be quiet, and narrowed his eyes, searching for the source of the voice. Fortunately, this time the voice didn’t disappear immediately, but it was growing weaker. Harry was certain it was moving—moving upwards. He stared at the dark ceiling, feeling a mix of fear and excitement.
He led Hermione and Ron up the stairs, climbing to the third floor and searching every corridor. Finally, they turned a corner and reached a deserted hallway.
Just as Ron was about to pant and ask what Harry was up to, Hermione gasped, pointing ahead.
"Look!"
On the wall in front of them, something was glinting. They approached slowly, squinting to make out the words written on the wall between two windows, about a foot above the ground. The words shimmered in the light of the torches.
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened."
"Beware the Heir’s enemies."
Next to the words, a puddle of water glistened, and above it, a boy lay motionless, as stiff as stone, in complete silence.
(End of Chapter)
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