The Great Hall was, as always, a feast for the senses, but tonight? Tonight it was an outright carnival of chaos. Floating jack-o'-lanterns hovered high above, their grins both mischievous and mildly threatening. Streamers of orange and black tangled through the air in a way that seemed almost alive, whipping and curling like caffeinated pixies. And the bats—oh, the bats. They swooped and dived with such zeal that a first-year screamed so loud, you'd think she'd been cursed. Another dove under the table in a heroic yet utterly futile attempt to escape their flapping tormentors.
But none of it—not the pumpkins, the bats, or even the audacious decorations—held a candle to the spectacle of our entrance.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and magical beings of questionable taste," I announced as we made our grand debut, my vampire cape flaring behind me like I had practiced this in front of a mirror (I had). "Feast your eyes on the most absurd, most glorious, and most debatably fashionable costumes to ever grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts!" I struck a pose, fangs gleaming in the dim light.
Ellie followed close behind, her hat so aggressively crooked it looked ready to declare its own independence. Her oversized emerald robes shimmered with enchanted stars that twinkled as she moved, like the cosmos had decided to get in on her ridiculous aesthetic. She grinned, waving to a group of second-years like a sparkly, goblin-esque queen greeting her adoring subjects. The green face paint wasn't necessary, but it was Ellie. Subtlety was her mortal enemy.
Then came Finnian, striding in with a flamboyance that could only come from someone wearing a magenta feathered cloak and matching bright pink feather hair. He looked like a flamingo that had joined the theater troupe and never looked back. "If one more person calls me a flamingo, I'm going to hex them," he growled, his cheeks flushed as red as his ridiculous ensemble.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," I quipped, casually flipping my cape. "Flamingos are majestic creatures."
"They also stand on one leg and look ridiculous," he shot back, flapping his cloak for dramatic effect. "Do I look ridiculous?"
"Absolutely," I said with a grin. "But you own it."
Bringing up the rear was Marlowe, trudging along like a man heading to his doom. His pirate costume—if you could call it that—was so half-hearted it was almost painful. The cardboard sword wobbled in his belt, and the eyepatch spent more time slipping off his nose than staying in place. "Why am I even here?" he muttered.
"Because you secretly love it," Ellie said, her grin as sharp as a cat's. "Also, we threatened you."
"True," he admitted, adjusting the patch for the millionth time. "But I hate all of you."
"Dashing as ever, Captain Cranky," I teased, earning an exaggerated groan from him.
As we paraded down the aisle toward the Hufflepuff table, the Great Hall erupted in applause, cheers, and a healthy dose of ridicule.
"Solace, did you raid your grandmother's closet for that cape?" someone from the Ravenclaw table called out.
"Ah, but you see, this is vintage," I shot back, giving a mock bow. "And it's Count Solace to you, peasant."
The laughter swelled, and I couldn't help but beam. This—this chaotic swirl of magic and nonsense—was exactly what Halloween was about.
We finally slid into our seats at the Hufflepuff table just as the platters materialized. The aroma hit me like a spell: warm pumpkin pasties, caramel-drenched apples, and chocolate frogs twitching temptingly. The pudding platter shimmered like a treasure chest, and I caught Marlowe eyeing it with the kind of focus he usually reserved for avoiding homework.
"Do you think they'll put the bats in the pudding for extra chaos?" Ellie whispered, nudging Finnian.
"Only if they're aiming for peak Halloween," he replied, already piling his plate with enough food to feed a Quidditch team.
Marlowe stabbed at his mashed potatoes like they were the source of all his troubles. "If anyone touches the pudding, they're dead to me."
Ellie leaned in conspiratorially. "What's your plan, Captain Cranky? Steal it all at once or savor the victory bite by bite?"
"Both," he muttered without hesitation, which only made Ellie giggle harder.
The Gryffindor table joined the fray with a loud cheer. "Oi, Hufflepuffs! Is that a pirate I see, or just Marlowe on a bad day?"
"Bad day," I called back before Marlowe could respond, earning another round of laughter.
The energy in the Hall crackled with life, every corner alive with chatter, jokes, and the clinking of goblets. Costumes were compared, candy traded, and somewhere in the mix, someone set off a shower of magical fireworks that sparkled over the enchanted ceiling. For a moment, it was like the world beyond Hogwarts didn't exist. Just laughter, food, and friends in ridiculous costumes. And honestly? That was enough.