Lightning Split the Sky

Passing through the Entrance Hall into the Great Hall, the view suddenly brightened. Thousands of Jack-o'-lanterns floated in midair, pale ribbons breathed flames, flapping Bats gathered like dense storm clouds, and wandering groups of ghosts made the room slightly chilly.

A flash of lightning illuminated his face, and Loren unconsciously narrowed his eyes. The lightning simulated by the Enchanted Ceiling was too realistic—rather dazzling.

As he sat down at the Gryffindor table, Hermione's voice sounded beside him, tinged with curiosity. "Those fire-breathing ribbons are beautiful. Look! They can even turn into lions! We never had anything like that at previous Halloween feasts. Professor Flitwick must have discovered some new magic for decorating the Castle..."

"Maybe it wasn't Professor Flitwick," Loren replied casually. "Those flames look more like Professor Bashat's magic. Orange-red, mixed with a faint blue."

"Grin... Professor Bashat..."

Hermione lowered her voice and secretly glanced at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who was whispering to Dumbledore on the dais. She recalled some accounts she had read; that professor was indeed exceptionally skilled with fire magic.

A few seconds later, the young Witch gradually came back to herself. She found herself unable to look directly at those flame-themed decorations. Though she knew rationally that such a thing could never happen, she could not help imagining the Castle ablaze.

That worry lasted until the Hogwarts Ghost Play Troupe began its performance. Ghosts emerged one after another from inside the walls and beneath the floorboards. After the opening procession and orchestral performance, The Death of Moaning Myrtle the Witch, starring Moaning Myrtle herself, officially began.

The emotions were too excessive, the expressions overblown, the lines chaotic...

Those were the flaws Sir Nicholas Povington had racked his brains to find. Even now, he could not accept that Moaning Myrtle's play had