Commemoration Feast

The next day, in the morning.

The torrential rain that had lasted for more than ten days finally stopped. The air was damp and chilly, but very fresh, making it easy to breathe. The sky after the rain looked as if it had been cleansed by Cleaning Charm, displaying a clear blue like that of forget-me-nots.

Lately, the Gryffindor Quidditch Team's training intensity has increased to an alarming level, with training in torrential rain becoming the norm. Every time Harry and Ron return, they're covered in mud, which drips onto the ground and creates mud splatters. Filch has cursed them many times for this while cleaning the corridors.

The Twins both said that if they were caught red-handed, Filch would hang them in the hallway and whip them.

Inspired by Go, Ron devised several tactics to counter Slytherin's speed advantage. He and Wood hit it off immediately, and Ron became the team's recognized reserve player, directing every practice session from the sidelines and also tasked with monitoring Colin.

Colin Creevey, Harry's biggest fan, would brave the pouring rain to watch Harry train. Wood didn't believe this story at all, strongly suspecting he was a Slytherin House spy sent to gather intelligence, and ordered Ron to keep a close eye on him.

In short, the young wizards lived a mundane and busy life until the end of October.

In the dormitory, Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Neville were still asleep.

Loren hastily put on the thick sweater Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him, then wrapped himself in his winter magic robe, and, despite feeling sleepy, washed up and left the dormitory.

On the sofa in the Common Room sat a pretty girl holding her notebook, her focused expression captivating. Hermione had been waiting for him in the Common Room for a while, even taking the time to review the 173 common Animagus animals.

Feeling the sofa beside her sag, Hermione looked him up and down carefully, her delicate brows furrowing slightly.

Loren yawned and grinned at her. "Good morning!"

"Good morning."

Hermione put the notebook into her crossbody bag, stood up and walked out to have breakfast. "It hasn't even started snowing yet, and you can't get up in the morning."

"It's not because of the weather that I want to stay in bed, I'm just really sleepy." Loren followed her downstairs with sleepy tears in his eyes. He couldn't see the way clearly and didn't want to bother with the winding stairs.

What did you do last night?

"Fight monsters and maintain peace in the Castle."

Because it was the weekend, there were few young wizards up early, and he didn't encounter many people on the way, so he arrived at the Great Hall without any problems. The steaming heat, carrying the enticing aroma of food, was just what Loren needed to perk himself up.

The waffles were toasted to a crisp, and the meal included bacon, ham, and sausage. A grapefruit was cut in half, and two drinks were ordered: hot milk and orange juice.

Loren reached out and took one of each, placing it on his own plate.

Hermione watched him, took half of his food, and asked while eating, "Have you finished copying the notes I lent you?"

"I've copied it all. Don't you trust me?"

Hermione was worried that he was only copying and memorizing the underlined key points, so she asked to test his knowledge on the other points, "What was the timeframe for Mandrake in one's mouth?"

Loren buried his head in his plate, swallowing large mouthfuls of food. "No, not Full Moon, not until the next Full Moon."

What materials should be put into the Crystal Vial?

"Saliva, Mandrake, a hair, a teaspoon of dew, and the Death's-head Hawkmoth Chrysalis..."

The young wizards nearby, upon hearing this, trembled with fear, inwardly screaming: It's the weekend! It's breakfast time!

Suddenly, the scene before them made them tremble even more violently: a transparent ghostly head flew out from under the fruit salad plate, the skin and tendons stuck to its neck stretched out, and finally pulled Nearly Headless Nick's body out.

The young wizards turned pale on the spot. Their throats bobbed up and down as they swallowed repeatedly to suppress their churning stomachs and the urge to S.P.E.W..

Hermione, pale-faced, swallowed the last slice of bacon with difficulty and gave him a look of strong condemnation.

Only Loren remained unfazed, gulping down his milk and the waffle in his mouth before letting out a small burp at the ghost. He smiled and said, "Good morning, Sir Nicholas."

Nearly Headless Nick looked at him with a resentful expression. "I'm not doing well. The Professor Lockhart you found took over the anniversary of my death, as if he were the one who should be celebrating it."

He decorated the venue, prepared food for the party, directed the House-elf to rehearse the party's flow, and even had Lockhart steal his inscription for the Tombstone Cake, claiming his handwriting was more beautiful.

This isn't Nearly Headless Nick's 500th birthday celebration; it's clearly Lockhart's ghost party.

Loren frowned. If his actions in persuading Lockhart ruined the party, he would have really screwed over Nearly Headless Nick. He asked worriedly, "Did Lockhart mess things up? Will he ruin your Commemoration Feast?"

"No, he did a great job," Nearly Headless Nick said, frustrated.

Lockhart had experienced countless book signings and was very experienced in such gatherings. Under his direction, the House-elf arranged the venue in an orderly manner, leaving the ghost with no faults.

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle softly. Nearly Headless Nick's transparent face darkened further, and he said sullenly, "I'm going back to rehearsing my poetry reading. Remember to come to my party."

"Look, your mockery has upset Nearly Headless Nick."

"It was you who tricked Lockhart into attending the party and made him unhappy."

Halloween is finally here!

As if to enhance the Halloween atmosphere, a torrential downpour began outside the Castle. Thick, ink-like clouds completely obscured the sky, preventing any light from filtering through. The Castle's dome also reflected the scene of a downpour, with deafening thunderclaps echoing intermittently, making it difficult to distinguish whether the sounds from outside were real or magical illusions.

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

A group of young wizards huddled together, screaming and counting down. George aimed at a giant Jack-o'-lantern hanging in mid-air and tossed in a string of colorful firecrackers.

With a loud "BOOM!", the Jack-o'-lantern, large enough to seat three to five people, exploded.

A wisp of blue smoke billowed from the openwork slits, and live bats hidden inside the Jack-o'-lantern scrambled out, flitting about in the air above the Great Hall. Other decorative bats, startled, also chirped and flew around erratically.

Several lively little white mice burst out of the colorful firecrackers and rolled onto the little wizard watching the fun below, startling him with a squeak and squeal.

The unaffected young wizards nearby burst into joyful laughter.

In the High Table, Hagrid's beard swayed with laughter as he said to Professor McGonagall, "I wouldn't be surprised if the two Weasley family boys blew up the school one day, hahaha!"

On this special holiday, Professor McGonagall, unusually, was not angry and even smiled.

Loren and his group played around in the Great Hall until seven o'clock before reluctantly preparing to go to the banquet.

"I heard that Headmaster Dumbledore has booked a Skeleton Dance Troupe. I don't even want to go to the Ghost Party anymore," Seamus said reluctantly.

Ron played with the Puffskein Plush that had popped out of the firecracker packet, and said with the same regret, "Why doesn't magic have a clone spell? That way I could attend two parties at the same time and enjoy double the fun."

Harry and Neville nodded vigorously.

"Keep your promise! We said we'd go to the Commemoration Feast!" Hermione, annoyed by their dawdling, grabbed Loren and pulled him quickly through the passageway toward the basement.

Loren looked innocent. "Hey!? Don't rush me! I'm still curious to see if George and Fred can blow the Jack-o'-lantern off Dumbledore!"

The basement corridor was filled with tiny, dark candles, their burning wax casting a bluish glow that made the faces of the living appear eerie. With each step the young wizards took, the temperature dropped, and by the time Harry reached the door, his teeth were chattering.

He nestled close to Hermione; the little Witch was warm and soft, like a little fireplace. There was no scene of a death anniversary celebration in the movie, so it was probably irrelevant. Loren felt safe tonight and could leisurely enjoy the festive feast.

The welcoming music was the sound of fingernails scratching on a blackboard, creating a rhythm that gave everyone goosebumps.

Nearly Headless Nick stood in the doorway, draped in a black velvet drape, and said with deep sorrow, "My dear friends, welcome, welcome... you—"

Before he could finish speaking, Lockhart, dressed in a flashy gold and blue suit, came out to greet him, took off his hat, twirled it twice on his hand, and bowed gracefully.

Loren was a little taken aback and stood there stunned for a moment.

"My dear friends!" Lockhart winked at them. "Yes, on this special holiday, don't treat me like a serious professor; I'm your close friend!"

"I'm so glad you could come. Anyway, welcome to the 500th Commemoration Feast in Povington!" Lockhart warmly welcomed them inside, then waved to Nearly Headless Nick standing at the door. "Leave the welcoming to me, get on with your performance, you're the star of the show!"

Loren and the others had complex expressions; they seemed to understand why Nearly Headless Nick was so melancholy. Anyone would be melancholy in that situation.

The Dungeon Classroom was extremely cold; a single breath from a living person could create puffs of steam. It was crammed with hundreds of milky-white, translucent figures. They danced and swirled in the central dance floor, performing a dance befitting ghosts.

The background music was chilling; the sound of the bowstring being pulled on the saw was like the sound of fingernails scraping a blackboard, giving you goosebumps.

A sullen Nun Ghost, a man ghost in chains and tattered clothes, Fat Friar, Moaning Myrtle, Bloody Baron...

Neville trembled and hid behind Seamus and Dean, but he wanted to look, then peeked, then shrank back, then peeked again, then shrank back again. His cowardly appearance was quite funny.

"Hey, don't be afraid, they can't hurt you."

"I... I know, but I'm still scared..."

After the young wizards settled in for a while and confirmed there was no danger, they split into several groups to explore the area. Harry and Ron went to find Nearly Headless Nick; Seamus, Dean, and Neville searched for strange ghosts.

Loren and Hermione went to the food area together.

The long table was covered with black velvet, emitting a foul odor. Large chunks of rotten meat were laid out, the minced sheep's stomach was teeming with wriggling worms, and the cheese was covered in mold and green mildew.

Nearly Headless Nick's long-awaited Tombstone Cake sat in the center, its outer shell baked to a grayish-brown charcoal color, with two lines of beautiful cursive lettering written on it in icing that had been boiled down to a tar-like consistency:

Sir Nicholas de Minsey- Sir Povington

He died on October 31, 1492.

Moaning Myrtle floated to their side at some point and said sadly in a soft voice, "Even food rotten to this extent cannot be sensed by a ghost's body."

"Oh, Moaning Myrtle!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise. "No, I mean, good evening, Moaning Myrtle."

Moaning Myrtle is well-known among the girls, and many have warned Hermione not to go to the Girls' Bathroom on the Second Floor, saying that if she encounters Moaning Myrtle, it's best to turn around and leave.

Moaning Myrtle seemed to understand her thoughts. "Good evening, Miss Granger. Don't worry, I haven't screamed at people for a long time since Loren fixed my toilet."

But your toilet is in the Girls' Bathroom!

Hermione stared wide-eyed at Moaning Myrtle, then at Loren, her little face filled with disbelief.

"This is a complicated matter, I'll explain it to you slowly later." Loren reached out and closed her dazed jaw.

Moaning Myrtle suddenly let out a shrill laugh, "I won't disturb you any longer. The Headless Hunt Team are here. I'm going to watch the show up ahead."

She swiftly floated to the front row of the dance floor.

Other ghosts seemed to have similar feelings; the band suddenly stopped playing, the Dungeon Classroom fell silent, and the many ghosts excitedly looked around.

With the sound of a horn, twelve Ghost Horses burst out of the wall, the riders on their backs holding their own heads, using them as props to perform various acrobatic and difficult stunts.

The applause never stopped during the performance, showing that the Headless Hunt Team were very famous in the ghost world. Ten minutes later, they dispersed and rushed into the ghost horde, receiving a warm welcome.

Then Lockhart's voice rang out. "A magnificent performance! I have never seen such a performance in my many years of adventure. So I declare! The Commemoration Feast! Officially begins!"

"Please welcome Nearly Headless Nick!"

All the candles in the Dungeon Classroom went out. Nearly Headless Nick slowly floated down from the ceiling, chanting in a deep, soulful voice. "Which wizard doesn't make this mistake? When you're busy and exhausted, a trivial mistake can be the end of me. I find my head about to be chopped off..."

Beneath Nearly Headless Nick's heartfelt poetry, Harry heard another familiar voice.

"... tear you apart... rip you apart... kill you..."

Even more horrifying, even more chilling, and even more murderous!

Unlike before, this time he clearly discerned the direction from which the sound was coming: upstairs, moving rapidly in one direction! As if chasing something!

Harry's first reaction was to look toward Lockhart by the dance floor... Yes, Lockhart must be there to attract attention while his Dark Arts items take the opportunity to commit murder.

He pressed his ear against the wall, listening intently and trying to pinpoint the direction of the sound.

Ron asked curiously, "Harry, what's wrong with you—"

"Don't speak yet!" Harry heard the voice again.

"... I'm starving... I've been starving for so long..."

"...It's time to kill..."

Without thinking of anything else, Harry grabbed Ron and ran upstairs...