Translated Chapter

154. Halloween

As long as the profits are sufficient, there will always be journalists bold enough to publish articles that power-holders would rather not see. Fortunately, once Responsibility was clearly pinned on Barty Crouch, the Ministry of Magic’s previously rigid stance began to soften.

Barty Crouch had once been the head of the Ministry’s Legal Enforcement Division—the most likely successor to the Ministry’s Directorship. In other words, he had been Fudge’s strongest rival before Voldemort’s fall. But after Voldemort’s downfall, Crouch’s son was discovered to be a Death Eater. The elder Crouch had even handed his own son over to Azkaban. That event eroded his authority, and he never became Minister. Now, he served as the Director of the International Magical Cooperation Bureau—a position akin to a Muggle foreign ministry, though vastly less significant. Most of his time was spent dealing with trivial matters like “the thickness of imported cauldrons” or “differences in banned goods standards across nations.”

Journalists had no fear of retaliation from Crouch. They freely painted him as a ruthless tyrant during wartime and began digging into other individuals who had been sent to Azkaban without trial. The Ministry was actually glad to let Crouch shoulder the blame.

During interviews, Fudge wept openly in front of cameras, confessing his “mistake in identifying the wrong man.” As for the release of Sirius Black, the Ministry remained evasive. But public opinion had turned overwhelmingly against them, forcing the Ministry to act. Dumbledore, too, had been tirelessly pushing for a resolution.

“Remus Lupin said the trial should begin after Halloween,” Harry told his friends. “Many people now believe he’s innocent. The chances of him being acquitted are very high.”

Michael, who knew Harry always clung to the most optimistic side of things, leaned in and whispered to Wade: “Is it really that simple?”

Wade nodded. “This time, it’s real.”

Only a small faction within the Ministry still opposed Sirius Black’s release. The majority simply didn’t care. Machionni told Wade that most prisoners in Azkaban went mad within weeks—unable to maintain even the most basic thoughts. To many, releasing someone who likely had no self-awareness at all wasn’t worth worrying about, especially if he was innocent.

But the shift in public sentiment and the mounting pressure were invisible to the students at school. All they saw were newspapers filled with endless stories about Sirius Black, sometimes accompanied by photos of the young wizard from his school days. His striking looks and tragic fate stirred deep sympathy in nearly every female wizard, giving him an unexpected advantage.

Gilderoy Lockhart, sensing a chance to ride the wave, made an unusual move in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class that week. Instead of having students perform a dramatic scene, he launched into a long, self-aggrandizing monologue about his close friendship with Sirius Black—despite the fact that the Marauders had nearly graduated when Lockhart enrolled.

“In my heart, I immediately sensed Peter Pettigrew was dangerous,” Lockhart declared. “I even issued a personal warning to them. Unfortunately, no one listened.”

“Aha, back then, I was just a boy like you. Though my vision was sharp, my insight profound, I lacked the respect I deserved.”

“If only they’d listened to me… perhaps everything would’ve turned out differently.”

The girls in the classroom stared at him in awe, tears welling in their eyes. “It’s not your fault, Professor! You did everything you could!” they cooed, reaching out to comfort him.

Ron, seeing Harry’s expression waver, blurted: “You’re not actually believing this nonsense, are you, mate? You know Lockhart’s a complete airhead.”

“But… he’s written so many books, right?” Harry hesitated. “He might actually be good at observation.”

After finishing his assignment in the Umbrella Room, Harry opened the Book of Friends and messaged Remus Lupin.

【Remus Lupin: Gilderoy Lockhart?】

The response from Remus was laced with disbelief—each character seemed to carry a question mark.

【That man? I’ve heard of him—he was a famous Ravenclaw.】

【But not because of his insight or magical ability. It was because, shortly after enrolling, he claimed he’d create a Philosopher’s Stone before graduation and lead England’s Quidditch team to win the World Cup.】

【Ravenclaw allowed him to try out for the team. He fell off his broomstick during the first attempt.】

【He also made headlines for carving his name in letters twenty feet high across the Quidditch pitch.】

【And in our later years, we were too busy chasing Slytherin, mapping the Marauder’s Map, or keeping up with the war’s developments to pay attention to a first-year Ravenclaw.】

Remus’s reply seemed almost furious.

Watching the parchment fill with message after message, Harry felt a chill.

Michael, ever direct, said: “Looks like he really doesn’t want anything to do with Lockhart. You’d better stop bringing him up.”

Harry nodded silently, letting go of his unrealistic hopes.

Then he changed the subject. “Hey, guys—want to go to Nick’s Anniversary Party? It’s on Halloween.”

A pause.

Michael: “Did I hear that right? A party?”

Theo: “Who’s Nick?”

Neville: “The Headless Nick. Gryffindor’s ghost.”

“A ghost’s anniversary party?” Padma wrinkled her nose. “Are there going to be a lot of ghosts?”

“Uh… probably,” Harry said hesitantly, then tried to rally them. “It’s his five-hundredth death anniversary! Think about it—Halloween comes every year, but a ghost’s anniversary party? That’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Don’t you want to go?”

“Uh…” Michael asked, “You didn’t already promise, did you?”

“Yeah!” Harry said, then gave them his most pleading look. “I really want to go.”

Hermione brightened instantly. “It’ll be amazing!”

“Anyone else going, Harry?” Theo asked. “Just you and Hermione?”

“…Ron said he’d come with me,” Harry replied.

“Well… if you really want me to…” Neville stammered, then immediately looked regretful.

Harry didn’t give him time to retract. “Then it’s settled! What about you all?”

“Not me,” Wade said, shaking his head. He knew the party would be full of Dark Cuisine—something he had zero interest in.

“We’re definitely going!” Fred said excitedly. “Ghosts! I’ve never seen one outside school before!”

George nodded in agreement.

Harry felt a bit reassured—until he counted heads.

Wait… that was all Gryffindors.

He looked around at the others.

Theo glanced at Liam and smiled. “We’re not going, but I’ll save dinner for you.”

“What?” Harry’s stomach dropped. “The party doesn’t serve food?”

Theo said gently: “They only serve ghost food.”

Harry blinked.

“…Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to go to Nick’s party.”

“But you already did,” Padma said with malicious satisfaction.

Hermione nodded. “Once a promise is made, it’s binding! Besides, the party isn’t just about eating.”

Michael grinned. “Think of it as a rare opportunity. Most people never get to experience this.”

“Want to take that chance?” Neville asked nervously.

“…No, thanks,” Michael said softly but firmly.

“Just wear extra layers,” Wade added as a final warning. “Ghost gatherings get very cold.”

---

Halloween arrived.

That evening, Wade and the others entered the Great Hall. As last year, thousands of candles floated in the air, bats fluttered across the ceiling, giant pumpkins carved into grotesque lanterns lined the walls, and sprites darted among the vines, their wand tips glowing with tiny bursts of colored light.

Golden plates groaned under the weight of sumptuous food—much of it far beyond what they normally saw at meals.

Michael grabbed two slices of perfectly seared cheese-crusted bread and took a huge bite. The rich, crisp flavor was almost addictive. He devoured them in seconds, then added two more to his plate.

“If Harry and the others knew how much amazing food we’re having tonight, they’d be furious,” he said happily to Wade.

“I’d bet they’re already regretting it,” Wade replied, spearing a slice of French lamb chop with his fork. “Ghost food is all rotten.”

“Ugh…” Michael winced. “Can we not talk about that while we’re eating?”

Just then, a Skeleton Dance Troupe took the stage. Pale skulls, adorned with glitter and ribbons, danced to lively music—twirling, linking hands, floating like limp serpents, then suddenly collapsing into scattered bones before reassembling in perfect form. Their jaws clicked rhythmically, and the entire hall clapped and cheered along.

Everyone was in high spirits—except Professor Snape, who remained as dark and sour as ever. Applause erupted again and again.

“This is incredible!” Lee Jordan, from Gryffindor, grabbed a dark-skinned girl and leapt onto the stage, dancing wildly with the skeleton performers, pushing the energy of the night to new heights.

After the feast, students drifted back to their common rooms. Wade spotted Harry and the others just emerging from the underground passage.

Fred and George still grinned, but the others looked utterly drained.

“That was… terrible,” Ron groaned. “Moldy, worm-infested, stinking food… everything about it made me sick.”

Theo and the others laughed and handed them food they’d brought from the Great Hall.

“Thank you,” Harry muttered, stuffing the food into his pocket. “I can’t eat anything now… I think my nose is broken.”

They parted ways, merging into the crowd heading to their respective houses.

“That was the best Halloween of my life,” Michael said, still buzzing on the way back to the dorm.

Padma hummed the tune the skeleton dancers had sung. “Yeah. Last year was great too… but then the giant ruined everything.”

“Can’t say that,” Michael said. “After that day, you joined us. So it was still great.”

Padma smiled at him, soft and sweet.

Wade pulled away from the conversation and headed straight to the common room. From his bag, he pulled out a gift for the house-elves—a shape-shifting mask—and wrote a short note of blessing, placing it on the table. They’d find it later.

Even though he had a close bond with a few little sprites, they still followed the house-elf code: they wouldn’t appear unless summoned.

Standing by the window, Wade waited.

The castle slowly fell silent. Ravenclaw students drifted into sleep, and he assumed the others were doing the same.

No screams. No petrification. No chaos. No fear.

This was exactly what he’d wanted—peaceful, fulfilling, and full of wonder.

Wade smiled.

---

The next afternoon, after classes, Wade received a note from Professor Sprout:

【Come to the Third Greenhouse after dinner.】

His heart leapt.

He rushed to the greenhouse the moment he finished eating. The mandrakes had grown significantly—swaying gently in the air.

“Though they’re not fully mature, their leaves are now usable,” Professor Sprout said, casually batting away a purple tendril that tried to wrap around her shoulder. “Excellent! That means you can begin practicing Animagus, right?”

“Yes!” Wade said, thrilled. “Can I start now?”

“Mm-hmm,” she smiled. “I could’ve let you begin a week ago, but I didn’t want you to miss the Halloween feast. That would’ve been a shame.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Learning Animagus is a long journey, Wade,” she said, pulling out a large pair of scissors. “You’ve been remarkably successful in your magical studies, but you must know—failing at the first step a few times is completely normal.”

“For a full month, you’ll need to keep a mandrake leaf in your mouth at all times—no swallowing, no taking it out. If you fail, you restart from the beginning.”

“We’ll pick a leaf today. By the time of the next full moon, you must be comfortable speaking, eating, even sleeping with a leaf in your mouth—without swallowing it. Practice now, so you’ll know what to avoid when you begin properly.”

She held the scissors, smiling. “So—choose one, Wade.”

The moment felt right.

Together, they began.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end