October 31st, Halloween Eve.
Hogwarts Castle was decked out in festive Halloween flair. The torches lining the corridor walls glowed through carved pumpkin lanterns, and the house-elves had been bustling since dawn, preparing for the evening feast. A sweet, tempting scent of pumpkin wafted through the air.
"Halloween traces its roots to Celtic mythology. The Celts believed that on the last day of October, the souls of the dead would return to the living world, seeking a living host to claim their life. Fearing possession, people devised ways to protect themselves. Some doused their hearths and candles, hiding in the dark. Others disguised themselves as ghosts or ghouls to scare the spirits away. Some even left tasty offerings at their doors to appease the ghosts—that's where 'trick or treat' comes from…"
The morning's third-year Muggle Studies class saw Professor Levent weaving together material from the encyclopedia's geography section, explaining how natural environments shaped local lifestyles, influenced physical traits, and gave rise to diverse cultural traditions.
Sadly, wizards weren't afraid of ghosts, so the custom of dressing up and begging for sweets never caught on. The students weren't exactly riveted by the history of Halloween.
At lunch, Gryffindor's Angelina Johnson was griping to her friends about her skin tone. Her ancestors had adapted to sunny climates, darkening their skin, but now that she wasn't baking under the sun, why couldn't she lighten up?
Alicia Spinnet had no response.
The final class of the afternoon was for the fifth years.
Gryffindor prefect Percy Weasley arrived early, claiming a seat in the middle of the front row.
Unlike other professors, Levent's questioning patterns were unpredictable—front or back, you were equally likely to be called on. Plus, sitting up front made it easier to copy down the blackboard notes. The Ravenclaws, quick on the uptake, had already figured this out.
As Percy expected, most of the Ravenclaw students were already there, clustered in the middle seats.
He spotted Ravenclaw's two prefects: Penelope Clearwater and a boy whose name he couldn't recall.
Percy settled next to Penelope, and they exchanged a quick smile.
Half a minute before the bell, Professor Levent strode into the classroom.
As the weather cooled, Levent's wardrobe had thickened. He often sported mid-length coats in various shades, paired with sweaters, layered in a way that brought a lively spark to the muted tones of autumn and winter. Some of the young witches had started jotting down his color combinations.
The students' views on Muggle fashion were quietly shifting.
Levent's teaching style was unique. His pace seemed brisk, but his delivery was unrushed, even leisurely. "Last week, we had a progress quiz. The graded papers were returned last night, so you've all seen your mistakes. Today, we'll go over the exam."
Percy silently pulled out his quiz, his score on the multi-select questions embarrassingly low.
Melvin held up the question booklet, now containing four quizzes' worth of problems. "First question, the correct answer is C. Who got it wrong? Raise your hands."
The room went quiet, and a forest of hands shot up. Percy's was among them, his expression calm and unfazed. This scene had played out repeatedly over the past few weeks.
"Mr. Hilliard, explain why C is correct."
"…"
Oh, right—Robert Hilliard, Percy thought, his mind wandering.
This novel approach to reviewing questions was unique to Muggle Studies. Having students explain their mistakes boosted their engagement. To avoid embarrassment in front of the class, those who got questions wrong were motivated to dig deeper, asking questions until they fully understood.
At first, the students resisted, but now they saw it as a chance to shine.
Two hours flew by.
With ten minutes left before the bell, Melvin glanced at his wristwatch. He'd just reached the final question, so he set the booklet down. "That's it for today. If anything's still unclear, don't brush it off. Go over it after class, make sure you've nailed those concepts. Scores on quizzes and exams don't matter—what matters is filling in your gaps. Talk it over with your classmates, and if you're still stuck, come find me. I'd love a chance to slack off."
Laughter rippled through the room.
Melvin nodded. "It's Halloween Eve, so we'll end early. Head to the Great Hall and enjoy some sweets."
"Long live Professor Levent!"
Melvin grinned at their cheers, gathered his booklet, and left with swift steps.
Before class, he'd received a letter. Wright had invited him to meet at the Three Broomsticks.
…
Fourth Floor, Charms Classroom.
The first-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were learning the Levitation Charm.
Professor Flitwick spent the first half of the lesson covering the theory: the charm's origins, its evolution, the proper wand movements, and classic examples of botched castings. The second half was hands-on, with each student given a feather to practice on.
The young witches and wizards waved their wands in circles, chanting the incantation over and over. Most could only make their feathers quiver slightly, while a rare few managed to get theirs to float.
Hermione was one of those few.
Thanks to the sweets Professor Levent had given her, she'd been getting along better with her roommates and felt like she'd finally made friends.
As class neared its end, Hermione watched her struggling friends and couldn't help but correct them. "It's Wingardium Leviosa, Harry—stretch out the 'gar' sound. And Neville, keep your wand movement sharp—one flick, one swish. Don't worry, you won't blow up your feather like Seamus did."
"…"
Harry sighed, saying nothing, and kept practicing his own way.
Seamus, his face smudged with soot, gave a quiet huff, feeling a bit insulted.
Only Neville nodded. "Thanks."
Ron, gripping his battered wand with its fraying core, grew increasingly irritated.
"It's Wingardium—"
"Enough!" Ron snapped, glaring at her wide-eyed expression. After a pause, he continued, his face stern. "Two months into term, and every Charms class is like this. It's a nightmare. Can't you just let us practice?"
Hermione froze. "I… I was just trying to help."
"Helping would be staying quiet."
"I thought we were friends."
Hermione glanced at the others, desperate for a shred of support.
Harry avoided her gaze, unsure what to say. He considered her a friend but wished she'd ease up on the corrections.
Neville opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the bell rang.
As it faded, Hermione grabbed her bag and bolted out of the classroom.