Happy Halloween

This year's Halloween feast at Hogwarts was very lively.

The Great Hall was filled with Jack'o lanterns specially grown by Hagrid, and black bats created by magic flew around in groups under the ceiling.

It's just that the usual ghosts in the castle did not appear on Halloween, the closest day between the living and the dead.

Anyone who knew the inside story knows it.

Today is not just Halloween but also the 500th anniversary of the death of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Popington (Nick for short), the ghost of Gryffindor.

A day like this was a very big day to celebrate with the ghosts, so Nick invited all his fellow ghosts from all over Hogwarts, as well as other ghosts from outside of Hogwarts.

After obtaining Dumbledore's permission, he borrowed a basement classroom in the castle and held his 500th birthday dinner.

Therefore, the ghosts who should have been active at the Halloween dinner in previous years did not appear in the auditorium tonight.

Rumour has it that the enlightened Headmaster Dumbledore would invite a skeleton dance troupe to perform for everyone tonight.

But rumours are rumours after all. After the students came to the auditorium, they did not see the so-called skeleton dance troupe.

But even without the ghost and skeleton dance troupe, Halloween is still a holiday that students love.

The dishes and meals at the dinner were more abundant than at the opening dinner, and after the dinner, every student could still get candy that could not fit even if the two pockets of the robe were full.

This is undoubtedly a great attraction for lower-grade students.

"What did that old Slughorn say to you last time after we left? Sherlock."

Hagrid asked with a big tongue at the professor's long table, as if he had had some wine.

Hearing his question, Sherlock hadn't replied yet, but Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick couldn't help frowning.

"Don't ask Sherlock about these kinds of things." Professor McGonagall said with a displeased expression, "We don't need to inquire about their private conversation."

Hagrid also came to his senses at this time, scratched his hair in embarrassment, and smirked twice.

"Sorry, it's easy for me to say the wrong thing after a few sips."

Sherlock waved his hand indifferently, took out the pendant hanging on his chest, and said.

"There's nothing I can't say, he just gave me a small bottle of liquid luck."

In the small potion bottle, the potion was indeed like a work of art, shining brightly under the reflection of the candlelight.

A voice that was even more indifferent and hollow than Sherlock's suddenly sounded aside.

"This kind of potion has a very troublesome in the process of brewing. If a little mistake is made, there will be irreversible consequences."

The speaker was Snape.

He rarely joined the professors' chat, but his tone was still so impolite as if he was deliberately picking on things.

Sherlock put the elixir back into his robe and nodded calmly.

"He's a lot more generous than Professor Snape. We've known each other for so long, and we haven't seen you give me anything."

When Snape was hit by him, he was speechless for a while.

Professor McGonagall still had that serious face, but the corners of his mouth were slightly curved, clearly showing a slight smile.

Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout made no secret and laughed on the spot.

Even Dumbledore said with a smile on his face.

"Horace is only generous to you. I have been in a relationship with him for almost seventy years, and I haven't seen him give me a gift every Christmas."

Then he looked at Snape teasingly again and blinked, "Of course, I haven't received one from Severus either."

"Humph!" Snape snorted coldly and said firmly, "I never miss Christmas."

Dumbledore laughed.

"It doesn't matter, we all celebrate Halloween today, how about a drink together?"

Every professor at the long table, including Snape, raised the glass in front of him, and everyone raised the glass together.

"Happy Halloween!" said the professors.

"Happy Halloween." Sherlock also shrugged secretly.

Then they drank the wine or drink in the cup.

It has been two months since he came to Hogwarts. During this time, Sherlock discovered that although Dumbledore was at the pinnacle of magic.

He also had the student's trust and even all the professors had great respect for him.

Or that Dumbledore has absolute authority in Hogwarts, and this authority convinced by everyone in the castle.

He secretly mumbled something in his heart.

No wonder the original owner had a brainwashed worship mentality toward Dumbledore.

He has never had a complete family since he was a child. He has always regarded Hogwarts as his second home, so he naturally respects the pillars of this "home" to the extreme.

While the teachers and students in the middle of the Great Hall were enjoying the Halloween dinner happily, Harry Ron and Hermione were not so lucky.

The ghost's death anniversary dinner isn't something that living people can participate in.

Not to mention the gloomy environment and the sour tug-of-war music, the so-called "food" at the death anniversary dinner was not something that Harry and the others could eat.

The three Harry, who had nearly survived the entire dinner, finally decided to return to the normal Halloween dinner in the auditorium after the ghosts of the Headless Hunt messed up the scene.

"I hope there is still some pudding left for us." Ron wrapped his robe tightly and said shiveringly.

They tried their best to show polite smiles to the ghosts around them, then walked out of the venue of the death anniversary dinner.

Just as they were rushing to the auditorium.

A familiar, cold, murderous voice sounded in Harry's ears again.

"... Rip.... Tear.... Blood..."

Harry's face was startled, and he stopped subconsciously.

Hermione and Ron found out about his abnormality and could not help asking suspiciously.

"What's the matter, Harry?"

Harry leaned against the wall, motioning them to stop talking, squinting to find the source of the voice.

Fortunately, the voice did not disappear directly this time, but it became weaker and weaker.

Harry was sure it was moving—upward, staring at the dark ceiling with a sudden feeling of terror and excitement.

He took Hermione and Ron up the stairs, climbed to the third floor, turned all the corridors on the third floor, and finally turned a corner and came to the last empty hallway.

Just when Ron was panting and was about to ask Harry what the bloody hell was going on, Hermione suddenly pointed forward and took a deep breath.

"Look!"

On the wall in front of them, something was shining.

They approached slowly, squinting and carefully identifying in the darkness. Between the two windows, on the wall a foot above the ground, some writing was smeared, and it shimmered faintly under the reflection of the burning torches.

[THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ]

[ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE. ]

And right next to these writings, above a puddle, a boy was as hard as a stone sculpture, lying on the ground silently!

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Editor: Yes it's not Ms. Norris.

Yes I put a Doom reference in there.

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