Wizards Are Afraid of Ghosts Too

"[Soul Possession] "

"Walk around the classroom once."

"Next up, Parvati Patil."

"..."

Watching Hermione walk around the classroom and return to her seat, Harry scratched his head, a strange feeling creeping into his heart, something just didn't feel right no matter how he thought about it.

He leaned close to his friend and whispered, "Ron, don't you find it strange that I can resist the Imperius Curse, but Loren and Hermione, who are better students, can't?"

"Professor Moody is a seasoned Aurors, and we're still students. It's normal that we can't fight back..." Ron muttered under his breath, looking frustrated. "I just don't understand why you all jump on the tables and walk around the classroom, while I have to imitate a rooster crowing?"

Come on, at least you haven't repeatedly scraped your knees, have you?

"I'd rather jump on the table ten times and run ten laps around the classroom..."

After Hermione returned to her seat from the podium, Loren noticed that her expression had become somewhat strange, showing a mixture of eagerness, hesitation, and barely suppressed excitement.

"What's wrong with you?" Loren nudged Hermione.

Hermione blinked her bright eyes without saying a word. She squeezed Loren's hand to signal him to be quiet as well, and glanced towards the podium.

Loren understood; she was wary of Professor Moody's keen hearing.

Soon, the last Gryffindor student went up to the stage. The activity he drew was the frog jump. That student probably hadn't observed frogs carefully, because his posture wasn't very standard.

This seemed to anger Professor Moody.

"Hogwarts is ashamed of you. In the entire fourth year of Gryffindor, only Harry Potter could somewhat resist the Imperius Curse ... If this were a decade or two ago, you should have been worried about being attacked by Death Eater as soon as you stepped out of the school gates, but you were like a flock of lambs to the slaughter, completely defenseless!"

Moody slammed his fist on the lectern and roared, "Ignore the pleasure brought by the Imperius Curse. It's a poison that corrodes your bones, a serpent that sucks out your brains! Cheer up! Never give in! Even if you are shrouded in that false pleasure for years, decades, you must never give in!"

As his voice faded, Moody's menacing gaze swept across everyone in the classroom. His face hardened, and he said, "I hope the Slytherin can give me a surprise..."

For the remainder of the lesson, Moody had the remaining young wizards continue to experience the effects of the Imperius Curse and try to resist it.

In fact, the young wizards of Slytherin did not meet his expectations. Only a few Pure-blood young wizards hesitated when faced with the command of the Imperius Curse, but they hesitated for only a few seconds and still followed the instructions completely.

This is because they had previously received training in Occlumency.

Harry had a strange feeling lingering in his heart. He wanted to find an opportunity to ask Loren and Hermione about it, but as soon as class ended, Hermione grabbed Loren and ran out of the classroom, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

"..."

Watching their figures gradually disappear into the distance, Harry fell into a deep silence.

Reaching a quiet corner in the aisle, Hermione said, barely containing her excitement, "You know what, Loren, just now when I was walking around the classroom, I suddenly woke up and completely broke free from the Imperius Curse's influence... but I still pretended to be under control and completed the lap."

The girl's breath tickled his face, and Loren couldn't help but laugh, "As expected of Miss Granger, you're amazing."

"Practicing Occlumency is very effective; the principles for resisting Legilimency and Imperius Curse are similar... and I also know—"

Hermione glanced at Loren triumphantly, raising her chin. "You've also broken free of the Imperius Curse."

Loren was somewhat surprised. "How did you figure that out?"

"I can tell from your eyes."

What's in my eyes?

Hermione's eyes sparkled with a smile, "I won't tell you, but I can just tell."

Before they knew it, the young wizards seemed to have gradually adapted to the extraordinary Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the first month of the new school year came to an end.

The absence of club activities and Quidditch matches has had the direct impact of leaving young wizards with nowhere to vent their boundless energy. More people are chasing each other in the hallways, more people are getting caught for nighttime wanderings, more people are trying dangerous magic, and the medical records in the Hospital Wing are getting thicker.

The last item was a discovery Loren made while completing his Divination Class.

Mid-October.

Tuesday afternoon.

A group of young wizards walked across the low meadow and through the vegetable garden. Fourth-year Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had just finished their Herbology Class and returned from the Greenhouse, while third-year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had just finished their Care of Magical Creatures and returned from Hagrid's.

The viscous liquid from the Bebop Tuber was almost completely drained last week, and their next task is to Compost Bebop Tuber and dig suitable burrows for their dormancy. Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts have grown another segment, and the sticky liquid on their skin has gradually solidified and dried, turning into layers of shells, but they still don't resemble snails at all; they look more like lobster shells.

Loren brought hazelnut chocolates and shared them with familiar friends along the way. These were Muggle candies he bought during the summer vacation, which had been piled up in a box until he found them a couple of days ago when he was sorting through his autumn clothes. They were already close to their expiration date.

Luna tore open the bar of chocolate, took a big bite of several hazelnuts, and chewed them with gusto, her cheeks bulging.

Button Bowtruckle, who had matured a bit but hadn't grown much, hid in Luna's collar, diligently picking up candy crumbs, looking quite pleased with himself. Anyone who didn't know better would think Luna was the Bowtruckle's owner.

Rolf walked beside him, looking helpless.

Loren asked with a smile, "Is it delicious?"

"The squirrels love to eat things like this..." Luna said to herself in a cheerful tone. "I used to dislike hazelnuts. I thought if the wizards ate too many, the squirrels wouldn't have enough food to survive the winter. But I've changed my mind."

Luna's words were whimsical, but the people around her were already used to her way of speaking and didn't find it strange.

"Did you know that squirrels will hide their extra hazelnuts until they grow fur and can't eat them anymore... so it's better for other animals to eat them?"

"Those squirrels are really bad guys."

Loren smiled, handed the remaining boxes of hazelnut chocolates to Rolf, and wiped his hands on his robe. "Have you made up for the points you lost last time? Have your Unicorn friends forgiven you?"

Rolf shook his head and said with a wry smile, "Originally, it was just me who offended Fred, and he was still willing to be close to Luna. But ever since Luna said that Basilisk are not evil creatures, Fred has stopped wanting to talk to us."

Luna added at the right moment, "Fred isn't angry with me. He was just bothered by the Nargles Nargles. Once he chased them away, he was willing to talk to me."

Loren could picture the scene: the naive Unicorn, unaccustomed to the world and lacking philosophical understanding, was stunned by Luna's words, its mind filled with thoughts of whether any creature was born evil.

The poor little foal was quite amusing to think about. Loren clicked his tongue and asked, "How long will it take?"

"I don't know, it should be before Halloween. We made a promise to make Hagrid's biggest pumpkin into Jack-o'-lantern for Halloween."

"There's still time."

"..."

Hearing the slight regret in the man's tone, Hermione rolled her eyes.

When they arrived at the Entrance Hall, they found the path somewhat congested, and a large notice was erected at the bottom of the Marble Staircase, surrounded by a crowd of excited little wizards discussing it.

The Triwizard Tournament – Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Ilvermorny – will arrive at 6:00 PM on Friday, October 30th. Afternoon classes will end half an hour early. Students are requested to return their bags and textbooks to their dormitories and then assemble in front of the Castle to greet our guests before attending the welcome banquet.

Friday afternoon!

Ron cheered and turned to look at Harry.

Harry's face was also full of excitement. "It's Snape's Potions Master!"

"Are you so happy to skip half Potions class, Harry Potter?" Just as Harry and Ron were celebrating, a sinister voice suddenly rang out.

Harry turned around and saw Professor Snape, dressed in black robes, rolling up his sleeves and giving him a hard shove on the head. "Whether in Potions class or elsewhere, I should have taught you to respect your professor, Potter!"

"You'll stay Potions class on Friday afternoon to tidy up the classroom."

Snape walked away expressionlessly, his clothes fluttering without making a sound.

Harry's excited expression instantly turned into a mournful one. He looked around and saw his friends examining the Entrance Hall's decor with great interest, their eyes filled with schadenfreude.

"That's not fair! Ron, you complained too!"

"I didn't, I just shouted the time on the sign."

"I don't care, you have to stay and help me clean the classroom!"

"..."

The notice posted in the Entrance Hall was like a Fiendfyre unleashed in the peaceful Hogwarts Castle, igniting the entire Castle in a very short time. All the young wizards wore excited anticipation on their faces. The Triwizard Tournament that had been talked about for two months was finally about to begin.

On Wednesday evening, Hermione finished her hour-long conversation with Professor Bubage of Muggle Studies, politely said goodbye, and turned to leave the professor's office.

It was almost time to turn off the lights, and most of the torches in the corridor had already been extinguished. Hermione held her notebook and secretly scolded herself. Whenever the topic of House-elf Winky and Mr. Crouch came up, it seemed like she had endless things to say.

The corridor was eerily quiet late at night, with only occasional sounds like wails and groans. These were the Magical portrait and ghosts dwelling in armor rehearsing plays or playing pranks on the young wizards returning home late. Hermione was not afraid.

The stars and moon weren't very bright tonight, and the corridor was dimly lit by intermittent candlelight, barely enough to see the way. Just as Hermione was hesitating about whether to light a Lumos, a rough curse followed by a shrill apology came from the stairwell around the corner.

"Be careful! My face was painted by the Poet Bathsheba!"

"I'm sorry, sir, Winky 'll be careful..."

Hearing the slightly tearful, somewhat familiar voice, Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and she tiptoed over.

The Gryffindor Common Room was pitch black, with only two or three blue flames emitting a faint, cold light.

A large group of people sat at the bottom of the stairs leading to the dormitory attic, their eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and fear. George and Fred, sitting higher on the steps, spoke in long, drawn-out voices:

"Hundreds of years ago, before the Triwizard Tournament was stopped... it would take the lives of the three most outstanding students from each of the three schools every five years..."

"Do you know why so many people died in the Triwizard Tournament, yet their ghosts have never been seen?"

Before the young wizards could answer, George lowered his voice and said, "Because their souls and flesh were sacrificed to the Goblet of Fire, they became the fuel for the flames, and will suffer the torment of being burned by fire forever, until nothing is left."

The engrossed young wizards all shuddered.

Just then, a chilling coldness gradually spread through the Common Room. Some of the young wizards sitting on the periphery felt as if someone was blowing cold air on the back of their necks. It was very close, as if it were right behind them, but when they turned around, there was nothing there.

A faint but clear voice reached the young wizard's ears:

"My head... where's my head?"

"Can you see my head?"

The faint voice suddenly grew louder and became shrill. "Give me your head...!"

With a thud, a head emitting a cold blue light fell from the ceiling and landed in front of the young wizards, its terrifying eyes staring straight at them.

"Ah—" Lavender Brown let out a piercing scream.

"Don't take my head! Don't take my head!"

The young wizards scattered in panic, turning the entire Common Room into chaos in an instant.

George and Fred were dumbfounded. They had only wanted to spread some scary stories to scare away some of their rivals who wanted to compete for the Champion title, but how did it turn out like this?

"However, this kind of prank is quite effective." George nodded thoughtfully.

Fred looked up at the head that was hanging by a thin sliver of flesh and was filled with admiration.

As expected of Nearly Headless Nick, he's still not broken.

Finally, Angelina, the female Prefect, and an unnamed male Prefect lit the Oil Lamp, and the young Gryffindor wizards, seeing light again, calmed down, slumped in their corners, straightened their robes, and steadied their breathing.

"Merlin's boots!" Ron patted his chest with lingering fear. "I'm not even afraid of Voldemort, but Nearly Headless Nick scared me."

"Who wouldn't be startled if a head suddenly drooped down?" Harry was equally frightened. "Don't you think so, Loren?"

Loren raised an eyebrow. "Really? I was worried that wizards knew about ghosts and weren't afraid of things like spirits."

Something was definitely off about those words. Harry and Ron both looked at him, opening their mouths as if to say, "You, you—"

"Loren, Harry ..."

With a burst of hurried footsteps, Hermione came running up, breathless. "You all need to come with me, something strange has happened—"