Seeing the bouquet of flowers in the headmaster's hand, Hoffa froze in place as if struck by lightning.
Memories exploded in his mind, flooding back in an instant. He recalled that electrifying moment on the Quidditch pitch, the bizarre one-person club, and the masked figure slowly changing flowers in the club's hidden chamber three months ago, surrounded by walls covered in paintings of masks.
"Is it just you in the club?""If one person can do the work of ten, the other nine are redundant."
"Wow, you really are a one-man army!"
Hoffa gritted his teeth.
Damn it!
What was the connection between that guy and Headmaster Dippet?
Could it be that the destruction of the teleportation array was orchestrated by the headmaster?
Impossible. That doesn't make any sense!
What was the reason? The motive?
There was no logic to it at all.
Watching as Headmaster Armando Dippet walked further away with the bouquet of violets, Hoffa clenched his teeth, forcibly suppressing the urge to follow him.
No, I can't. He can see through ordinary invisibility spells.
And the ghost-walking technique could only be used three times, each lasting only 10 seconds. Following him would almost certainly result in getting caught.
Hoffa stepped back instead, keeping a distant watch.
He stayed in place until Headmaster Armando Dippet opened the passage to the Violet Chamber and disappeared inside. Only then did Hoffa cautiously approach.
The woman in the portrait was still absent, leaving the painting completely blank.
Hoffa had no idea how Dippet had entered.
But he couldn't help imagining what the headmaster might be doing in the secret chamber.
Was he, like the masked figure, replacing the wilted flowers in the vases?
Why would he do such a thing?
And who had brought the dark wizard into Hogwarts in the first place?
Damn it.
The mysteries tangled together, the shadows of the unknown spreading further.
Hoffa pressed a hand to his forehead. After watching for a while longer, he reluctantly turned and left.
With so much still unknown, he didn't dare make a single move.
Back at the Ravenclaw Tower, Hoffa's mind was still consumed with thoughts about the strange club.
In the common room, a group of girls sat chatting in a corner. They were dressed formally, some even wearing gowns and evening dresses, as though preparing for a ball. Aglaia and Miranda were among them.
Hoffa barely paid them any attention, his mind occupied with thoughts of Headmaster Dippet and the violets in his hand.
When Hoffa passed by, Aglaia only gave him a quick glance before turning back to her laughter and conversation.
Miranda, however, stepped out of the group, blocking Hoffa's path. She even waved a hand in front of his face.
"Lost in thought?"
Only then did Hoffa raise his head, noticing Miranda.
Today, she wore a simple short ponytail and an elegant high-collared dress, making her look much cuter than usual.
"What is it?"
Miranda glanced back at the group of girls before flashing a mischievous smile. "Are you free tonight?"
Hoffa thought for a moment. "I suppose so. Everyone seems to be free tonight."
"I'd like to ask you for a favor."
"What kind of favor?"
"Slughorn invited me to his Christmas party, and we're allowed to bring a guest."
It took Hoffa a moment to process. Slughorn's Christmas party? That certainly sounded like something the man would do.
He glanced over at Aglaia, sitting among the girls in their dresses.
However, the fact that the old man even invited someone as average as Miranda—could it be because she was Griselda Marchbanks' granddaughter?
"And then?"
"Would you like to come with me?"
She asked confidently and openly.
Hoffa widened his eyes at first but then shook his head.
"Thank you for the offer, but you should just go on your own."
At the moment, he really didn't have the mood to attend Slughorn's party. For one, he and the Potions professor didn't see eye to eye, and he had no interest in his events. More importantly, his mind was completely consumed by Dippet's retreating figure holding the violets.
He was more inclined to attend the official school banquet. Perhaps he could spot Dippet at the Christmas feast and finally uncover the secret between the masked figure and the headmaster.
Miranda seemed slightly taken aback by Hoffa's swift refusal.
After pausing for a second, she shrugged.
"Alright then."
With that, she returned to the group of girls.
That night, alone in his dormitory, Hoffa emerged from his meditation with a decision—he would attend the school's Christmas feast.
Admittedly, he felt a tiny spark of anticipation.
After all, the opening feast had been the only banquet he'd attended so far, and this seemed like a rare opportunity.
As he passed through the Great Hall, he noticed students crowding around the twelve Christmas trees Joey had set up earlier that day.
Excitement filled the air as they chatted and laughed. Curious, Hoffa peeked over to see heaps of gift packages beneath the trees. Each student was allowed to claim one.
Ah, a starter pack, he thought with a wry smile.
He couldn't help but wonder if opening one might reveal a magical skill book, a powerful artifact, or an experience boost.
Joining the line of students, he picked up his own gift package.
Of course, when he opened it, there were no legendary magical tomes or weapons inside. Instead, the package contained a squeaky little hamster, three popping wizard crackers, and a spring-loaded horn.
Not bad for toys. If I were a few years younger, I'd probably be jumping for joy, Hoffa mused.
At the bottom of the package, however, was a mask—a Santa Claus mask.
It was an ordinary mask, yet it inexplicably reminded him of the masked figure in the snowy field. Rubbing his temples in frustration, Hoffa thought, Have I gone mad? Can't I go a single day without thinking about that guy?
Around him, many students happily tore open their packages, donning the various masks inside and laughing together.
Some, like Hoffa, had Santa masks with flowing white beards. Others wore reindeer masks with long antlers that jingled with bells, while some sported sleighs and stockings perched on their heads. These magical masks were far more lifelike than anything Muggles could craft.
But while his classmates reveled in joy, Hoffa's brow furrowed deeper.
The shadows cast by those towering antlers on the walls unsettled him. He felt a strange dryness in his throat, an odd thirst he couldn't place. Shaking his head to clear the feeling, he eventually decided to head toward the feast in the Great Hall.
And yet, just then—
A faintly familiar scent wafted through the air.
It was a fragrance he recognized but had almost forgotten.
The same scent he had detected during the rainy day in the hunting grounds.
Shaking his head more vigorously this time, Hoffa tried to grasp the elusive memory.
Activating his meditation technique, he searched every corner of his mind, retracing every detail.
And then he remembered.
The scent was violet flowers.
Spinning around abruptly—
At that very moment—
Amidst the group of laughing and chatting students, he saw that figure.
It tilted its head, staring directly at him.
Thin, small, and indistinct.
The masked figure was completely out of place in its surroundings.
It was as if no one else could see its presence.
The expression on the pale mask—
Was it mocking him?
As if a switch had been flipped, all the gifts from Hoffa's package slipped from his hands. The little hamster squeaked and scurried away in fright as it hit the ground.
"Stop!"
He shouted, startling everyone around him, who turned to look at him in surprise.
Stomping on the Santa mask in his haste, Hoffa took off after the figure.
This time, he was determined not to let it escape. He had to find out who was scheming against him in the shadows.
The figure merely tilted its head slightly, then turned and silently vanished into the crowd.
Hoffa shoved past a group of students holding their gifts, charging after the shadowy figure.
Though the figure seemed to move slowly, it was, in fact, incredibly fast. Hoffa could only keep pace at a distance, trailing close but unable to catch up.
Even so, Hoffa refrained from using his Ghostly Walk technique.
It consumed too much energy, and he needed to save it as a trump card in case the figure posed a threat.
They passed through the grand, candlelit Great Hall, through enchanted hallways adorned with mistletoe, and across the snow-covered school grounds filled with snowmen of every shape and size.
Finally, they reached the spiraling staircase of another tower. A group of Hufflepuff students was descending, laughing and chatting. The masked figure slipped nimbly through their midst, vanishing to the other side.
"Stop it! Help me block it!" Hoffa called out desperately to the Hufflepuff students.
But the group only stared at him, dumbfounded. They exchanged puzzled glances and looked at Hoffa as if he were crazy.
"Block what?"
"Who are you chasing?"
"Why aren't you at the feast?"
Seeing the figure about to vanish again, Hoffa cursed under his breath at the oblivious Hufflepuffs, comparing them to blind people.
Pushing past the group, he continued the chase.
They dashed through three more towers, one after another.
Gradually, the area became more and more secluded, with fewer people around.
The figure ran higher and higher up the stairs, seemingly without any particular destination. But at the top of each tower, it would stop briefly, as if searching for something.
Whenever Hoffa got close, the figure would dart away again, light and graceful like a passing breeze.
Narrowing his eyes, Hoffa wondered if he should use Ghostly Walk just once.
Suddenly, the figure ahead came to an abrupt stop. It snapped its head to the left, as if sensing some sort of threat.
Then it quickly disappeared around a corner in the corridor.
Hoffa skidded to a halt and turned the corner sharply, but the towering hallway ahead was empty.
It had vanished again.
The only witnesses were the curious inhabitants of the portraits along the walls, staring at Hoffa.
"Young man, this isn't a place you should be."
"Who are you looking for?"
Ignoring the portraits, Hoffa stopped, panting, his eyes narrowing as he subtly turned his head.
He couldn't see the figure anymore, but he knew it hadn't truly disappeared. The lingering presence of its scent confirmed it—it was still nearby, hidden.
He wasn't sure if the figure was using the Disillusionment Charm. After all, it was the one who had taught him the spell, so it would certainly know how to use it as well.
Taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, Hoffa drew his wand and began moving cautiously through the corridor.
As he walked, the wand's shape slowly transformed, turning into a sharp, gleaming short sword.
(End of chapter)
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