Time passed quietly, like a river flowing steadily onward.
When the final class bell rang, the students streamed out of the Charms classroom, relief and excitement evident on their faces.
It wasn't just because Halloween had arrived—it was also thanks to Professor Flitwick's generous decision to exempt them from this week's Charms homework. The class had done exceptionally well with their spells today, and the professor, in a rare moment of indulgence, rewarded them by telling them to simply practice on their own. For third-years, already burdened with increasing workloads, this was a welcome reprieve.
Ian, accompanied by his roommates, made his way downstairs toward the Great Hall for dinner. After a full afternoon of classes, everyone was eager to eat—especially with the highly anticipated Halloween feast just around the corner. The rich aroma of roasted pumpkin drifted through the corridors, urging them forward with renewed enthusiasm.
Upon reaching the Great Hall, they found it magnificently decorated for the occasion. Hundreds of enchanted bats flitted about the walls and ceiling. Countless floating jack-o'-lanterns hovered above the dining tables, their flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows across the room. With the colorful decorations, the spectacle was both mysterious and enchanting, making Hogwarts feel like a true wizarding wonderland.
When the golden plates filled with food, the students dug in with enthusiasm. The feast rivaled the grandeur of the Start-of-Term Banquet, though this time, the mood was far more relaxed and jubilant. Laughter echoed across the hall as students in costumes exchanged jokes and shared treats.
Seated at the Ravenclaw table, Ian and his roommates enjoyed their meals while admiring the elaborate decorations. Ian had arranged for a special dish from the kitchens—a beef pie fried in olive oil, enriched with finely chopped chives. With Dumbledore's special permission, he had access to customized meals, and he saw no reason not to take advantage of it.
The house-elves had outdone themselves. The chives' delicate fragrance complemented the savory richness of the beef, making the dish incredibly satisfying. Ian had already eaten two pies and was about to start his third when Andre, his roommate, gave him a teasing look.
"Mate, how long have you been starving? The feast lasts until midnight—you don't have to inhale your food so quickly."
Ian smirked but didn't respond immediately. Midnight, huh? He knew that in just two years, Andre's understanding of Halloween night at Hogwarts would become far more complicated. But for now, he saw no need to elaborate. Instead, he casually replied, "I'm just making sure I have enough energy to last the night."
Andre raised an eyebrow and turned to Ivy. "The food stays until the end of the feast, right?"
Ivy nodded. "Yes, it does."
Andre looked back at Ian, suspicion creeping into his expression. "Something's up with you tonight. What's going on?"
Before Ian could reply, Ivy interjected. "A true Ravenclaw wouldn't pry into someone else's secrets."
Andre held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Sorry, Ian. Ivy's right—I wasn't trying to be nosy. But if you ever need anything, you know we've got your back."
Ivy nodded in agreement.
Ian smiled. "Thanks. If I ever need help, I won't hesitate. But really, it's nothing major. Just a small event that may or may not happen tonight."
For most third-years—and even some fifth-years—a troll would be a terrifying opponent. But Ian had long since researched them in the Ravenclaw library. Mountain trolls, forest trolls, river trolls—he had studied their weaknesses in depth. Not that he had planned to face one, but it was simply a habit of his to be well-prepared.
The feast continued in high spirits. Across the hall, Ian spotted Hermione at the Gryffindor table. The distance between them was too great for conversation, so they simply exchanged nods and raised their goblets in silent celebration of the holiday.
An hour and a half passed before the festive atmosphere was shattered by a piercing cry.
"Troll! There's a troll in the castle! Thought you ought to know!"
Ian's gaze snapped to the entrance. Professor Quirrell stumbled into the Great Hall, his face pale with terror. The timing was perfect—almost too perfect. With one final dramatic gasp, he collapsed in a dead faint.
Ian couldn't help but mentally applaud. "And the award for Best Supporting Actor goes to…"
The hall erupted into chaos. Students screamed, chairs scraped against the stone floor, and panicked voices rose in confusion. Dumbledore immediately stepped forward, his magically amplified voice booming across the hall.
"Silence!"
The clamor ceased at once.
"Prefects," Dumbledore commanded, his tone firm. "Lead your houses back to their dormitories immediately."
The prefects sprang into action, proving why they were chosen as student leaders. Twenty-four senior students—six from each house—swiftly took charge. Instructions were given, and students were divided into groups according to their year levels.
Seventh-year prefects took charge of the first-years, sixth-years guided the second-years, and so on. With remarkable efficiency, the prefects ushered the younger students toward safety.
Ian sighed, watching the scene unfold. "What's meant to happen will happen."
His eyes scanned the hall, searching for Harry and Ron. He found them near the Gryffindor table, shifting uncomfortably. Unlike the others, who were mostly panicked, these two looked… restless. As if they were considering doing something incredibly reckless.
Ian's stomach dropped. "Oh, no. They're about to do something stupid."
His concern deepened when he realized Hermione was missing from the Gryffindor first-year lineup.
Just as he suspected, trouble was about to begin.
...
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