All the Gryffindor students had been working hard to earn back points, desperately trying to avoid being etched into the school's history books as the house with the lowest score.
Professor McGonagall, proud and principled as always, maintained her strict standards, refusing to give out points unjustly. Even though Gryffindor had lost an unprecedented number of points, she continued to be fair, showing no favoritism.
Ironically, it was the professors from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who were more lenient toward Gryffindor, especially Professor Flitwick. Despite their best efforts, however, Gryffindor's points continued their steady march toward an all-time low.
The main reason? Professor Snape's relentless enforcement of the rules. His ability to deduct points was unmatched, and he showed no mercy.
Many Gryffindor students secretly hoped William would somehow cause Snape to end up back in the hospital. But Snape, ever cautious, kept a safe eight-meter distance from Marietta in Potions class.
In this tense atmosphere, the foul stench that had plagued the school finally began to fade, and the calendar turned to Halloween.
On the morning of Halloween, students awoke to the delightful smell of roasted pumpkins wafting through the corridors. In Charms class, Professor Flitwick excitedly announced that they would begin practicing how to make objects levitate.
Ever since witnessing William's dramatic rescue of Shabby, the students had been eager to try this skill for themselves. Flitwick paired them up in twos to start practicing.
"Now remember, don't forget the subtle wrist movement we've been practicing," Professor Flitwick squeaked from atop his stack of books. "Swish and flick—it's all in the wrist."
Executing the movement was more challenging than it sounded. Cho and Marietta repeatedly tried to swish and flick, but the feather they were supposed to levitate stubbornly remained on the floor.
Frustrated, Marcus Belby jabbed his feather with his wand, accidentally setting it on fire. Fortunately, Flitwick was prepared and quickly extinguished the flames, preventing a full-on disaster.
"Pronunciation is crucial!" Flitwick reminded the class. "Remember what happened to poor Baruffio, who accidentally summoned a bison to stand on his chest because he mispronounced the spell!"
"Of course, those of you who read the Daily Prophet over the summer would remember how Stark here gave us a perfect demonstration of what not to do in Diagon Alley. Poor Malfoy—let's hope his head isn't permanently damaged. The Prophet says the boy's developed a resistance to magic."
Toward the end of class, Flitwick had William demonstrate the charm, and the students applauded his flawless execution.
As Halloween festivities ramped up, the castle was adorned with magical decorations. Hundreds of floating pumpkin lanterns lit the Great Hall, along with fluttering bats and ribbons of orange flame that lazily drifted across the ceiling like shimmering water snakes.
The feast that night was a lavish affair. Delicious food materialized on golden plates, just as it had at the start-of-term banquet, and the students tucked in with gusto.
Dumbledore, dressed in a resplendent purple robe, told a joke at the staff table, but none of the professors laughed, leaving him looking slightly awkward.
Professor McGonagall's face was as stern as ever—her mood soured by Gryffindor's looming record low score.
Snape, meanwhile, ate his potatoes at a leisurely pace, his eyes sweeping the hall as if still searching for the culprits behind his mysterious love letter.
Professor Tywin seemed downcast, locked in conversation with Professor Flitwick about a particularly tricky charm.
Even Hagrid, usually so spirited, looked glum. He nursed a large bottle of mead, gulping it down in large swigs, though it didn't seem to lift his spirits.
The latest Daily Prophet headlines had not helped his mood.
The Ministry of Magic had officially cleared Malfoy of any wrongdoing and announced that they had identified the real suspect behind the break-in, promising an arrest soon.
The feast was in full swing when the doors to the Great Hall suddenly burst open, and Filch came stumbling in, his patterned face mask askew, a look of terror plastered across his face.
Every eye in the hall turned to him.
His face was flushed red, and he seemed on the verge of collapsing. Tripping over a chair, he finally reached Dumbledore's seat at the staff table, clutching the edge of the table for support as he gasped out, "Aurors—there's a group of Aurors—they've surrounded the castle!"
Chaos erupted in the Great Hall as students began talking over each other in a panic. Dumbledore rose to his feet, his wand emitting several loud bangs, which silenced the crowd.
At the sound of the explosions, Hagrid, who had been trembling uncontrollably, accidentally crushed the glass bottle in his hand. Mead splashed everywhere, dousing Professor Tywin, who let out a startled yelp.
The sound echoed sharply through the suddenly quiet hall, drawing all eyes to Hagrid.
"I—I'm not going to Azkaban…" Hagrid stammered, his voice trembling as much as his massive body.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Snape's lips. He shot a glance at Dumbledore, his voice dripping with amusement as he said;
"It seems our dear groundskeeper has done something rather bold this time, doesn't it, Headmaster? Or is there something you haven't shared with us?"
Dumbledore's expression grew grim as he addressed the prefects. "Prefects, take your students back to their dormitories immediately."
Ever the dutiful student, Percy Weasley stood up, eager to assist the Gryffindor prefects.
"Follow me! Don't panic. First years, stay close to me, and there's no need to be afraid as long as you listen. Make way! First years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"
But before anyone could leave, the doors to the Great Hall swung open again.
Filch hadn't been exaggerating—there weren't just Aurors outside. Leading the way was none other than Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself.
Fudge was short and plump, his gray hair untidy, and his face a mask of worry. His attire was an odd mix: a pinstriped suit, a bright red tie, a black cloak, and purple pointed boots. He clutched a dark green bowler hat in his hands, looking very much out of place.
Behind Fudge were two Aurors. One was tall and bald with dark skin, a gold earring glinting in his ear. The other was a sturdily built man with short, bristly hair.
Marietta whispered, "That's Kingsley Shacklebolt and Dawlish—I've heard my mum mention them."
Marietta's mother worked at the Floo Network Authority under the Ministry of Magic, and she knew quite a bit about the inner workings of the Ministry.
Fudge approached Dumbledore's seat, tucking his purple bowler hat under his arm and mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. He stood next to Dumbledore, looking uncertain, like a subordinate awaiting instructions from his superior.
Despite being the Minister of Magic, Fudge appeared visibly nervous in Dumbledore's presence.
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