Hogwarts' Halloween feast that year was very lively.
The Great Hall was filled with pumpkin-head lanterns specially cultivated by Hagrid, and black bats conjured by magic flew in swarms beneath the ceiling.
However, the ghosts commonly seen in the castle on ordinary days did not appear on Halloween, the day when the spirit world and the human world are closest.
Those who knew the inside story understood why.
Today was not only Halloween, but also the five-hundredth death anniversary of Gryffindor's ghost—Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington (nicknamed Nick).
Such a day was a memorable occasion for every ghost, so Nick invited all his ghost colleagues from Hogwarts, as well as other ghost friends from outside the school.
After obtaining permission from Dumbledore, he borrowed an underground classroom in the castle to hold his five-hundredth death anniversary banquet.
Therefore, the ghosts who would have been active at the Halloween feast in previous years did not appear in the Great Hall tonight.
Rumor had it that the enlightened Headmaster Dumbledore would invite a skeleton dance troupe to perform for everyone's entertainment tonight.
But rumors were just rumors. When the students arrived in the Great Hall, they did not see the so-called skeleton dance troupe.
However, even without the ghosts and the skeleton dance troupe, Halloween was still a holiday that students loved.
The dishes at the banquet were even more lavish than at the start-of-term feast, and after the banquet, each student could also receive candies that they could barely fit into both pockets of their robes.
This undoubtedly held great appeal for the younger students.
"What did that old codger Slughorn say to ye after we left last time, Sherlock?"
Hagrid seemed to have had a bit of wine and asked with a slur at the professors' table.
Hearing his question, before Sherlock could respond, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick couldn't help but frown.
"Don't ask such questions, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said with displeasure. "We don't need to inquire about private conversations."
Hagrid came back to his senses, scratching his hair awkwardly and giggling twice.
"Sorry, I tend to say the wrong things after a few sips."
Sherlock waved his hand to show he didn't mind and took out the pendant hanging on his chest.
"There's nothing that can't be said. He just gave me a small bottle of Felix Felicis."
In the small potion bottle, the slowly flowing Felix Felicis was indeed like a work of art, shining brightly under the reflection of the candlelight.
A voice even colder and more hollow than Sherlock's suddenly sounded from the side.
"This potion is very troublesome to brew. A slight mistake can lead to irreversible consequences. He's really willing to part with it."
The speaker was Snape.
He rarely joined the professors' conversations, but his tone was still so impolite, as if he were deliberately nitpicking.
Sherlock put the Felix Felicis back into his robe and nodded calmly.
"He's much more generous than Professor Snape. We've known each other for so long, and I haven't seen you give me anything."
Snape was speechless for a moment after being countered.
Professor McGonagall still wore her serious expression, but the corners of her mouth curved slightly, clearly holding back a smile.
Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout laughed openly without trying to hide it.
Even Dumbledore said with a smile, "Horace is only generous to you. I've known him for nearly seventy years, and I haven't seen him give me a gift every Christmas."
Then he looked at Snape teasingly and blinked. "Of course, I haven't received anything from Severus either."
"Hmph!" Snape snorted coldly. "I never celebrate Christmas."
Dumbledore laughed.
"It doesn't matter. Today, we all celebrate Halloween. How about everyone having a drink together?"
Every professor at the long table, including Snape, raised their glasses, and they toasted together.
"Happy Halloween!"
"Happy Halloween," Sherlock echoed, shrugging slightly.
Then they drank the wine or beverages in their glasses in one gulp.
Having been at Hogwarts for two months, Sherlock had already discovered that Dumbledore was the stabilizing force of the magical school.
Not only did the students trust their headmaster immensely, but all the professors also respected him.
Or rather, Dumbledore possessed absolute authority at Hogwarts, and this authority was sincerely acknowledged by everyone in the castle.
He muttered silently to himself.
No wonder the original owner had a near-brainwashed reverence for Dumbledore.
Having lost his entire family at a young age and always regarding Hogwarts as his second home, he would naturally revere the pillar of this "home" to the extreme.
While the teachers and students in the Great Hall were happily enjoying the Halloween feast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not so lucky.
The ghost's death anniversary banquet was indeed not something the living could participate in.
Not to mention the gloomy environment and the teeth-aching sawing music, the so-called "delicacies" at the banquet were not something Harry and the others could stomach.
After enduring nearly the entire event, Harry and the others finally decided to return to the Halloween feast in the Great Hall after the ghosts of the Headless Hunt disrupted the scene.
"Hopefully there's some pudding left for us," Ron said, shivering and wrapping his robe tightly around himself.
They forced polite smiles at the surrounding ghosts before quickly leaving the banquet hall.
Just as they were hurrying toward the Great Hall, a familiar, cold, and murderous voice echoed in Harry's ears once again.
"...Tear you...tear you apart...kill you..."
Harry's face stiffened, and he stopped subconsciously.
Hermione and Ron noticed his strange behavior and asked in concern, "What's wrong, Harry?"
Harry leaned against the wall, signaling them to stay quiet, and narrowed his eyes to search for the source of the voice.
Fortunately, this time the voice did not vanish instantly. Instead, it grew weaker and weaker.
Harry could tell it was moving—moving upward.
He stared at the dark ceiling, and a mixture of fear and excitement suddenly surged in his heart.
He led Hermione and Ron up the stairs, climbed to the third floor, and searched through all the corridors there. Finally, they turned a corner and reached the last empty passageway.
Just as Ron was panting and about to ask what Harry was doing, Hermione suddenly pointed ahead and gasped.
"Look!"
On the wall before them, something was shining.
They approached slowly, squinting to make it out in the dim light. Between two windows, about a foot above the ground, words were smeared across the wall, glowing faintly in the torchlight.
'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened.'
'Enemies of the heir, beware.'
And beside those words, above a puddle of water, a boy lay sprawled on the floor, stiff as a stone statue—silent and unmoving.