In Harry's memory, no Halloween had ever been as... bleak as this one.
Yes, bleak.
To be fair, the day before Halloween, Hagrid had stuffed the Great Hall with plenty of enormous, frightening pumpkins.
As usual, Filch and the school staff had strung up golden ribbons in the Great Hall, hung brand-new banners for all four Houses, arranged pumpkin lanterns, and released a huge swarm of bats.
Ever since Hogwarts stopped lacking money, the students' daily meals had become even more lavish. This Halloween, the young wizards had truly shown off their skills, piling the long tables high with delicious dishes that looked as good as they smelled.
In short, Hogwarts was still doing its utmost to create the joyful atmosphere of a traditional festival for its students.
But few people, Harry included, could enjoy the festive mood.
Orders had been given to keep strictly confidential exactly what had been stolen from Professor Breen's office, and the young wizards uninvolved in the matter were still in the dark.
However, the attacks on Ron and Lavender at school, as well as the ransacking of Harry and Hermione's dormitories, had spread without any prompting.
Even several days after Halloween had passed, an atmosphere of unease and panic still hung over the school.
Harry could even sense traces of the terror that had once blanketed Hogwarts when rumors had run rampant that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened by the Heir, and that all Muggle-born students would be purged.
Things should not have come to this.
It was only the tense situation outside that had made the young wizards jump at shadows.
For several months now, every so often, The Daily Prophet had reported disasters and accidents in the Muggle world—train derailments, collapsing bridges, earthquakes in unknown little towns, or typhoons striking