Chapter 35: Have Fun Tomorrow

"What was that sound?"

Harry Potter jerked his head up abruptly, his startled gaze perusing the area for the origin of the mysterious noise. The school caretaker, Filch, observed his sudden alertness with surprise.

"What noise? What are you talking about, Potter?" Filch probed, as Harry continued to scan the surrounding corridor. "And who exactly are you looking at, staring into thin air?"

"I could've sworn…didn't you hear it? A ghostly voice muttered about hunger and killing," Harry answered, his eyes still dancing around in search for any sign of the voice's owner.

Initially, Filch looked on skeptically, a dry look of amusement etching onto his face while Harry's eyes darted across the length of the corridor. Seeing no immediate danger, the irritation simmering inside Filch arose, "Are you playing a game with me, Potter? Perhaps trying to involve me so you can skedaddle? Not in my lifetime, you won't! Compared to the dunderhead twins you call your pals, you can't even match up, you're a rookie! Now, off to my office with you, this second!"

Without uttering another word, Filch gripped Harry firmly by the collar, leading him to an imminent punishment. Just as luck seemed to have abandoned him, the Gryffindor Ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, arrived at the perfect moment, distracting Filch trying, though failing, to enable Harry to flee.

When Filch came back to his senses, he noticed something peculiar on his desk. Swiftly alternating between emotions of fear and anxiety, Filch swiftly enforced a punishment on Harry - a dreary week-long duty cleaning the first-floor corridor.

With a glum expression, Harry trudged out of Filch's office and thanked Nick for his timely intervention. Feeling indebted, he vowed to have Hermione and Ron accompany him to Nick's peculiar and impending Deathday Party on Halloween Eve.

Upon reentering the familiar comforts of the Gryffindor common room, Harry's streak of misfortune took a turn for the worse. No sooner had he stepped foot inside than he encountered Seamus practicing spells. Turns out, the 'creatively' conducted Disarming Spell from Seamus ended up in a minor explosion, leaving Harry covered head to toe in powdery ashes.

In the ensuing commotion, Harry hurriedly rushed into the dormitory bathroom to clean himself up. However, his set of forgotten dirty practice uniform on the floor disrupted his exit, causing him to slip and cover himself in a layer of mud again, necessitating yet another round of thorough cleaning.

Once ensconced in the safety of his dormitory, Harry narrated the occurrences of his horrendous day to Ron. Worried, Ron hypothesized that a curse might be to blame and offered his treasured amulet, believed to ward off bad luck to Harry. However, the moment Harry grasped it, the string gave in, scattering dried herbs all over their dormitory floor.

"You must have attracted the malevolent curses of a powerful dark wizard, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, fervently sweeping up the scattered herbs. "This amulet has guarded me for five years without any issues. You need to discuss this with Professor Forester or, perhaps, even with Professor Dumbledore to help dispel this hex!"

As Harry reclined on his bed, a somber expression etched on his face, as a sudden shiver ran through Neville, who was concealed under his blankets. However, unsurprisingly, his odd behavior went unnoticed. Everyone around assumed he was coming down with a cold and wasn't in the mood for idle chatter.

Overwhelmed by fatigue, Harry laid on his bed, his hunger pangs ignored as his eyelids gradually closed. Suddenly, a squirming sensation at the edge of his pillow jolted him awake.

With a pounding heart, he reached out shakily for his wand.

"Lumos!"

There, at the edge of his pillow, squirmed a small, dark figure. Fear gripped Harry, his eyes wide with terror, "Ron! Your pet rat just used my bed as its lavatory!!!"

…

On the day preceding the Halloween festivities, the class timetable allotted a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson for the second-year Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students, taught by Professor Sherlock Forester.

Two months had lapsed since the trial of the notorious Tom, and it seemed no one could present a challenge to defeat him yet. Even though Tom's presence no longer loomed over the classroom, stories about him managed to stay afloat amongst the students.

They spun tall tales, going as far as claiming that Tom was the peculiar pet of an immensely powerful witch who could effortlessly cast spells and was particularly adept at bewitching broomsticks. They even suggested that Tom visited Forester's lectures merely for amusement. (E/N.: Tom/Cornish Pixie depending on which version you prefer)

The lives of the students returned to their mundane rhythm in the classroom. Sherlock introduced a variety of ferocious Dark creatures, courtesy of Hagrid, for the students to study and devise defensive strategies against.

Noticing the lack of enthusiasm in the students a day before the Halloween holidays, Sherlock decided to recount the fabled tale of the skilled magical master, Sun Wukong. He narrated how Sun, along with his non-wizard teacher and two witless followers, journeyed westward in search of treasure, crossing paths with an array of dark creatures during their quest.

The students were completely absorbed by this narrative. Even after the dismissal bell rang, a few lingered behind to dig deeper into the captivating story, hoping to borrow the tale from the library for their leisure reading.

After Sherlock bid farewell to the overly curious students, a few lingered back to hand in their long overdue homework.

His gaze blank, Sherlock addressed the detention-worthy, late homework submission of the Hufflepuff student, Justin Finch-Fletchley, "Why have you left this important assignment until now when you had ample time to complete it?"

Hiding a noticeable shiver, Justin apologized, "I beg your pardon, Professor. I simply forgot."

"No more excuses in the future. You may leave."

Released from the stern gaze of Sherlock, a relieved Justin hurried towards the door, "I hope you have a pleasant Halloween tomorrow, Professor."

"Thank you, I wish you the same, enjoy the day's festivities," Sherlock returned in kind.

Next in line to turn his homework in was Harry Potter. Against his panicked heartbeat, Harry perceived the low murmur of the wishes exchanged between Justin and Sherlock. As if on cue, Sherlock's gaze turned towards him.

"And what's your excuse for submitting late this time, Mr. Potter?"

Harry, quick to defend, elucidated Sherlock, "Sir, Filch assigned me an entire week's duties to clean the castle's first floor hallway as a punishment for dirtying the castle's floor. So, I didn't find the time to work on it."

"Ah! A valid excuse in this case then."

Casually accepting the assignment from Harry, Sherlock sensed Harry's hesitance to move, "Would there happen to be anything else, Mr. Potter?"

"No, Professor. I'll take my leave then."

"Alright then, see you later."

As Harry exited the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, he let out a thankful sigh, as if escaping from an imminent misfortune.

Waiting outside the classroom, Ron and Hermione looked curiously at Harry's visibly relieved expression.

"Did Forester give you a lecture or something?" Ron inquired.

"No, actually, he accepted my explanation for late submission without question." Harry responded, trying to dismiss their curiosity, but Ron wasn't done quite with his inquisition.

"Then why the massive sigh of relief? Are you regretting promising Nick to attend his Deathday Party tomorrow on Halloween? We can always duck out if you want!"

Hermione, on the other hand, was showing an unexpected keenness to attend the party.

"We most certainly cannot duck out, given that Harry has confirmed our attendance. It's simply not done!"

Harry remained silent, watching Justin trailing behind his friends, the joyful echoes of their laughter ringing distantly through the halls. Harry found himself reminded of his unfortunate afternoon incident, leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth.