Halloween Eve marked the last day of October, and once Halloween passed—ushering in November—preparations began for the event most eagerly awaited by every student and staff member at Hogwarts.
Quidditch matches.
Each weekend that month, Quidditch games were held as the four Houses faced off against one another. Scores were tallied and ranked, and by the end of the term, the two highest-scoring Houses would compete in the final match. The winning House would take home the Quidditch Cup along with fifty House points, which was why November was also called Quidditch Month.
Quidditch was immensely popular. Most wizards loved the sport, seeing it as a rare and exciting pastime. Even Muggle-born wizards shared that enthusiasm—after all, playing a sport while flying on broomsticks sounded undeniably thrilling.
But to Leonard, the game was dull and foolish. What irritated him most was how this so-called team sport glorified the Seeker's role while rendering the rest of the team almost meaningless.
He didn't even have the desire to watch such nonsense.
With most of the school gathered at the match, the near-empty castle seemed perfect for his own plans—like exploring the Restricted Section.
After two months at Hogwarts, Leonard decided it was time to prepare for exploring that ancient magical ruin he'd heard about. This time, though, he had no intention of going in yet. He planned to wait until the end of term, when the plants in the Botanical Garden produced seeds, and then explore it together with Midgard. Today was just for scouting.
Who said you could only visit the Restricted Section at night? Wouldn't it be better to go when everyone else was distracted by the Quidditch match?
Leonard thought those who snuck in at night did so because they felt guilty, creeping around in the dark like they were committing a crime.
He was different. He didn't care what others thought—and he certainly didn't think he was doing anything wrong.
Students laughing and chasing each other streamed out of the castle toward the Quidditch Pitch, full of energy and excitement. Leonard glanced at them, feeling out of place among their cheerfulness, then turned his gaze toward the professors following behind. The teachers trailed after the students, though their expressions lacked the carefree smiles the younger ones wore.
Malfoy's death still hung over them like a thorn in the throat—an ever-present reminder of their failure. None of them knew how Dumbledore had managed to convince Lucius Malfoy not to hold Hogwarts accountable, but even without punishment, they found it hard to forgive themselves.
Leonard's eyes settled on Quirrell.
Quirrell hadn't been sent to Azkaban or received any punishment at all. That in itself was strange.
In the original third-year story, when Draco Malfoy had merely been scratched on the arm by a Hippogriff, Lucius Malfoy had demanded the creature's execution for daring to fight back. There was no reason he would let his son's death go unpunished.
Clearly, someone had stopped Lucius's plan for revenge—and that someone was certainly not Dumbledore, the man Lucius despised most.
"Was the You-Know-Who forced to meet Lucius Malfoy?" Leonard murmured, a mocking smile tugging at his lips.
He didn't believe Lucius Malfoy could simply let go of such deep hatred. Since he couldn't find whoever had lured Draco Malfoy to the troll, the only one left to blame was Quirrell—the man who had brought the troll into Hogwarts in the first place.
But when Voldemort stopped him from seeking revenge, that hatred naturally shifted to the Dark Lord himself.
Lucius was certain Quirrell wouldn't have acted on his own. Everything he did, he did for Voldemort.
"How intriguing," Leonard muttered. "I wonder what Lucius Malfoy, now consumed by hatred, will do."
Once the seed of hatred was planted, the only fruit it could bear was bitter revenge.
And as the one who caused it all, Leonard merely had to watch.
After seeing the professors and a few staff members leave, he turned and made his way toward the library. Surely no one could stop him from entering the Restricted Section now.
As an ancient castle, Hogwarts was every bit as eerie as one might expect—perhaps even more so.
With the students gone and their lively energy missing, the castle felt unsettlingly empty, as if a ghost might appear from around any corner...
Well, there were plenty of ghosts here anyway.
The ghosts didn't seem to care much for Quidditch. With the castle emptied of students, they freely drifted through the halls, claiming the place as their own for a while.
And Peeves... without an audience, the poltergeist seemed oddly subdued, not causing trouble or playing his usual pranks.
Maybe he just needed someone to perform for.
Maintaining his powerful Disillusionment Charm, Leonard slipped quietly past the ghosts and entered the library unnoticed.
The library wasn't completely empty. Though Quidditch was wildly popular in the wizarding world, some witches and wizards still preferred books over broomsticks. They'd rather stay behind to read what others found dull than stand under the lingering autumn sun watching a match.
That didn't bother Leonard. These diligent students wouldn't stop him from reaching the Restricted Section.
Moving silently, almost like a ghost himself, he glided past the others and approached the heavy gate that sealed off the restricted area.
...
A large door loomed ahead, secured by an oversized lock and thick chains that kept it tightly shut.
The setup was certainly meant to discourage intruders—it looked intimidating enough.
Leonard drew his wand and whispered, "Alohomora."
A soft white light flickered at the wand's tip, but the lock remained unmoved.
"An Anti-Unlocking Charm?" Leonard mused, lowering his wand.
Judging by the layers of magic visible in his mana sight, this spell was anything but simple. It felt like facing a wall of solid metal—no unlocking charm, even an advanced one, would likely work.
Still, Leonard wasn't discouraged. He put away his wand and casually pulled out a piece of wire.
For a Scavenger, lockpicking was just part of the trade.
He slipped the wire into the keyhole, fiddled a few times, and soon heard a click. The lock popped open.
So, even an Anti-Unlocking Charm couldn't stop a simple Muggle trick.
Grinning, Leonard cast a Lubrication Charm on the old door hinges. The spell created a slick, translucent oil that could make someone slip—or in this case, let a door open without a sound.
He pushed the door open silently and stepped into the Restricted Section. Setting the lock aside, he turned to the rows of forbidden books before him.
Before hunting for clues about the ancient ruins, he might as well take a look through these first.