The appearance of the ghosts sent the feast into a new crescendo.
Nearly Headless Nick, clutching his barely attached head, floated above the young witches and wizards, basking in the terrified gazes of the first-years.
The Bloody Baron sat sullenly at the Slytherin table, making the surrounding students lose their appetite.
The Fat Friar, on the other hand, was far more jovial, frequently coaxing roars of laughter from the Hufflepuff side.
Ethan Vincent watched the scene with curiosity.
If anyone in this world knew the truth about death, it had to be the ghosts.
Yet, the moment they grasped that truth, they lost the means to further explore or question it.
"What exactly is the essence of a ghost… Is there a way to imprint them onto a painting…?"
Ethan muttered, staring intently at Nearly Headless Nick, who was drifting toward him.
Nick shivered under the gaze, as if he'd been spotted by a creepy admirer, and hastily tucked his head under his arm.
With a twirl in midair, he floated off elsewhere.
Can't deal with this, can't deal with this…
"What a coward," Ethan said, retracting his gaze with a hint of regret.
At that moment, a voice with a thick accent sounded beside him.
"Thank Merlin, you scared him off."
A brown-skinned girl at the next seat was looking at him, her eyes sparkling.
She'd been chatting with someone else earlier, her head turned away.
When Ethan glanced over, she flashed a bright smile, revealing two dimples.
"That sight really kills the appetite, doesn't it? I'm Padma Patil, Indian descent, and I've got a twin sister in Gryffindor."
She spoke boldly.
Her eyes, like two glossy black grapes, were round and lively.
"I'm Ethan Vincent. Nice to meet you," Ethan replied.
Padma grinned. "I know you. Your name was all over the train. I heard you're into painting. Any chance you'd be interested in doing something for my sister and me—"
"Ahem!" A voice cut in abruptly.
A light-brown-haired boy named Michael Corner leaned over, his eyes gleaming as he said, "I'm Michael Corner! Pleasure to meet you, Miss Patil!"
With that, Michael stretched his hand past Ethan, reaching straight for Padma.
"…"
Padma's smile turned polite but strained. She gave a slight nod, ignoring his outstretched hand.
Ambitious lad, Ethan thought, watching Michael peacock about. He gave an approving nod.
In the original books, the Patil sisters were Harry and Ron's dates to the Yule Ball, considered beauties with their striking features and exotic charm.
Unfortunately for Michael, he barely got a few words in before Padma turned back to her friends, resuming her chat.
"Well, at least I made an impression," Michael consoled himself.
Then his eyes swiveled to Ethan, a sly grin spreading across his face. "But I'm sure of it—if I stick with you, I won't have any trouble getting girls to talk to me~"
"Maybe," Ethan said noncommittally.
He focused instead on shoving the last piece of coffee pudding into his mouth, filling the second stomach's void.
Burp.
Satisfying.
Soon, the students were full, and the food vanished from the long tables, leaving them pristine.
Dumbledore stood before the brass amplifier, the carved golden owl lazily stretching its wings.
"Attention, attention, children. Before you head to your dormitories, I have a few reminders."
"First, the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to all students. I trust you understand its dangers."
"Second, Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you: no magic in the corridors between classes."
"Finally, unless you wish to meet an unfortunate and painful demise, do not enter the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor."
At this, whispers rippled through the four houses.
"Odd," Michael muttered, frowning. "If the Forbidden Forest is off-limits because of dangerous creatures, what's on the fourth floor?"
"The way he says it so vaguely only makes people more curious, like he's daring us to go explore."
"I bet some Gryffindor hotheads are already planning to sneak up there and find out."
Michael chuckled.
Spot on, Ethan thought, glancing at him.
You didn't get sorted into Ravenclaw just for your knack with girls.
Ethan, of course, knew exactly what was up there.
A three-headed dog, courtesy of Hagrid, guarding Dumbledore's little gift for the Chosen One.
The prize? The Philosopher's Stone, capable of producing the Elixir of Life, coveted by Lord Voldemort himself.
The Philosopher's Stone…
Could it be ground into pigment for painting…?
Michael broke his reverie. "Ethan, you look like you're thinking something dangerous."
His expression turned mildly horrified.
Ethan snapped back, giving Michael a warm smile. "Nah, you must be imagining things."
"…"
Michael let out an awkward laugh, wisely dropping the subject.
No wonder he's the guy who'd fit in at Azkaban. Best not to pry.
After the chaotic school song, the opening ceremony concluded.
By now, the first-years were swaying with exhaustion.
Led by their house prefects, they filed out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories.
"Ravenclaw first-years, follow me," called Prefect Robert Hilliard.
Spotting Ethan, he grinned smugly. "Knew you'd end up in Ravenclaw."
"Did you? I thought I'd be in Hufflepuff," Ethan said.
Robert laughed. "Good one."
Ethan: "…"
Why not?!
He was a kind, warm-hearted wizard. Why did no one think he'd fit in Hufflepuff?
Ethan shot a chilly glance toward the Hufflepuff group, trying to spot what made them so different.
Several Hufflepuffs huddled together, spooked.
"You'll find that Hogwarts does have truly brilliant minds. Eagles perch on high cliffs, and our common room is at the top of the tower," Robert said as he led them upstairs.
"Unlike other houses that hide their entrances, ours is always open to the clever."
"Answer the question correctly, and you're in—though, for a thousand years, that barrier has kept out anyone who isn't Ravenclaw."
A first-year piped up, "What happens if we can't answer?"
Robert smiled. "Oh, you'll just have to spend the night outside."
Several first-years' eyes widened in panic.
"Haha, don't worry," Robert added. "You'll often find students already outside, puzzling over the question. It's a great way to make new friends."
Ethan found that logic sound.
Climbing to the tower alone would take ages.
Brainy jocks, huh? Winning arguments with reason?
As they ascended, Robert detailed Ravenclaw's history.
But soon, even his voice faded.
They were exhausted.
The group trudged upward in silence, panting like oxen.
"Wait—when I get my broom," Michael gasped, "I'm flying up this blasted tower from the outside!"
"Watch out for broom rash," Ethan mumbled.
Michael shot him a horrified look.
In truth, no one did that because the Ravenclaw Tower was enchanted.
No broom could crash through its windows—you'd only plummet.
Finally, when Ethan's legs were trembling, they reached the Ravenclaw common room entrance.
But seeing a crowd of older students outside, deep in thought, the first-years' hearts sank.
They hadn't solved the riddle yet…
Prefect Robert stepped forward confidently and knocked on the bronze eagle-shaped knocker.
The eagle's beak moved, its voice low and resonant:
"Light and shadow are born of each other, in conflict. If the world held only one, would the other still exist?"
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