On Halloween, the entire castle was filled with the sweet scent of pumpkin. Harry was especially glad that he could attend the Halloween feast with everyone else, rather than stay in the gloomy, cold underground classrooms with the ghosts. So, at seven o'clock, he called for Robert to go to the Great Hall together.
When Harry knocked on the door, Robert was holding Tom by the neck, warning him to behave today.
"Either you go back to the Forbidden Forest or stay in the dormitory. In short, don't wander around the castle today."
Tom didn't seem convinced and squirmed in Robert's grip. Robert was about to say more when Harry appeared at the dormitory door.
"Robert, the Halloween feast is about to start."
"I'm coming," Robert said, casually tossing Tom onto an empty bed nearby. "Remember, you can do whatever you want any other day, but tonight, you're not going anywhere."
With that, Robert put on his school robe, adjusted his pointed hat, stepped out of the dormitory, and casually tapped the door lock with his wand. With a click, he nodded in satisfaction.
"You probably don't need to lock the door, right?" Harry asked, slightly puzzled. "Everyone's going to the feast soon. No one will be in the common room."
"I'm doing it to stop Tom from escaping," Robert replied. "That guy can unlock it from the inside."
Only then did Harry remember Robert had a pet cat named Tom, though he had barely seen him. He vaguely recalled the cat from last year when Hagrid took the first-years across the lake. Tom had been quietly perched on Robert's shoulder.
"It should be fine. He's just a pet cat, right?" Harry asked. "I've seen a lot of pets in the corridors, and the professors seem to allow them to roam freely."
"If Tom gets out, you might not see those other pets again," Robert said casually. The name might've been a bit too ominous, but despite Robert's repeated attempts to stop Tom from preying on his "colleagues," the cat's temperament remained wild, and his territorial instincts only intensified. Mrs. Norris had been so frightened by him that she would instantly avoid Robert whenever she saw him. Even when an owl flew overhead, Tom would leap up and try to swat it.
That was one of the reasons Robert insisted on locking him in.
What Robert didn't expect was that the moment he and Harry left the common room, Tom used his front paws to pry open the window and jumped onto the outer ledge. The ledge on the eighth floor was only a few inches wide, but Tom walked along it as easily as if it were solid ground. Soon, he found his target, pushed off with his hind legs, and skillfully leapt into an open window.
By that time, Robert had already entered the Great Hall and was watching in surprise as Hagrid placed a pumpkin larger than himself next to the teachers' table.
"Hope you enjoy the show—it's a good one tonight," Hagrid said before leaving. He usually didn't join everyone in the Great Hall for meals, and even Dumbledore's many invitations had been politely declined.
When the feast officially began, the enormous pumpkins lit up and began floating under Dumbledore's direction. Thousands of bats were already waiting in the air. As the glowing pumpkin lanterns rose, they gathered into a dense black mass like a storm cloud and swarmed toward a stage set up at the front.
Students in the front rows screamed in fright.
The dark cloud suddenly exploded into colorful puffs of smoke. From the smoke emerged twelve gleaming skeletons, shimmering under the enchanted ceiling's moonlight.
"Look! It's the Skeleton Dance Troupe!" someone shouted in astonishment.
Robert turned to look. The twelve skeletons had formed an oval shape. One of them, holding a bone violin, used a tibia for a bow and played the first note. Soon, other instruments joined in—viola, cello, harp, and flute. Six skeletons moved to the center and began to dance.
They performed a waltz.
Though their bodies lacked even a sliver of flesh, they moved with grace and precision. Every motion was eerily elegant, yet mesmerizing.
Robert was stunned—he had just seen elegance in skeletons.
And he wasn't the only one.
Hermione sat frozen, staring at the stage without blinking. Harry, pouring pumpkin fizz, was so engrossed he didn't notice the cup overflowing, spilling most of the drink onto the table.
At the teachers' table, Dumbledore tapped his fingers in rhythm with the music.
After the first piece ended, the troupe performed another livelier number, lifting the hall's energy even higher.
"This is amazing!" Harry shouted, biting into a pumpkin pasty.
Last year's Halloween feast had ended abruptly because of Quirrell. This year, Harry felt lucky—if he had missed this performance, he would have regretted it.
Robert nodded in agreement. The Skeleton Dance Troupe's reputation was clearly well-deserved. Rumor had it they received hundreds of invitations every Halloween from across the wizarding world. Only Dumbledore, perhaps, could bring them to Hogwarts.
Robert joined in the applause and cheers. Despite everything else, this Halloween was truly enjoyable—and the pumpkin pasties were delicious.
But all good things must end.
As the troupe vanished and the last spoonful of pumpkin pudding disappeared, the plates returned to their clean, gleaming state. Still longing for more, the students gradually stood and filed out of the Great Hall.
Robert followed the crowd up the stairs. Suddenly, Hermione called out, surprised, "Robert, aren't you going to the ghost's Deathday party?"
"I'm heading back to the dormitory to grab something," Robert replied. The three of them didn't question it.
Hermione and Harry chatted about whether they should attend the party. With nothing else planned, Hermione was curious to see what it was like. After the Skeleton Dance Troupe's performance, even Ron wasn't as resistant to the idea of a ghost party.
Robert, however, wasn't interested in their conversation. As the crowd pushed into a corridor on the second floor, his nerves heightened. The staircase to the third floor led off in another direction. When they squeezed into a new corridor, Robert looked up—and suddenly chuckled.
"What's funny?" Harry asked.
"Nothing," Robert replied with a smile. He was clearly in a good mood.
And with good reason. The corridor walls were clean—no red writing, no messages. Nothing at all.
Later, on the fifth floor, Robert encountered Filch on patrol. Mrs. Norris, as usual, darted away the moment she spotted him. Robert only caught a glimpse of her tail, which further improved his mood.
They continued on and soon encountered a crying ghost flying by, face in hands. Peeves followed gleefully, pelting her with moldy peanuts.
"That's Moaning Myrtle," Hermione explained. "She haunts the girls' bathroom on the second floor. She and Peeves are probably the last ghosts I'd want to run into."
Fortunately, both spirits vanished quickly.
The group eventually reached the center of the corridor.
"Oh no, this staircase goes down," Harry said. "We'll have to find another—"
But Robert was already climbing the stairs.
"Robert, that's the wrong way. That staircase leads to the first floor."
"Exactly. I'm going to the underground classrooms, so I need to get to the first floor first," Robert replied.
"Didn't you say you were going back to the dormitory?"
"I found what I needed in my pocket," Robert said, pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Want to come with me?"
The three exchanged looks, then followed.
"Do ghosts like to dance too?" Ron asked, still picturing the Skeleton Dance Troupe's elegant waltz.
"They probably do," Hermione answered. "Sir Nicholas—he insists on that title—was a noble when he was alive. Nobles must've danced at parties, right?"
"I think so too."
The conversation continued enthusiastically as they made their way from the first floor toward the stairs to the underground classrooms.
But when they arrived, they fell silent.
The air reeked of decay, and from deep within the underground came a terrible sound, like a thousand saws grinding against stone. It pierced their ears and churned their stomachs.
Any pleasant expectations of the ghost party shattered instantly.
The Skeleton Dance Troupe's music had been delightful. But this?
This wasn't music. It was noise. Absolute, unbearable noise.
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