0143 The Feast

The last days of October passed in a blur of autumn colors and crisp morning air, until finally the calendar reached that most anticipated date—the morning before Halloween. A thin layer of frost painted the castle windows with delicate ice crystals, and the stones of Hogwarts seemed to hum with anticipation for the evening's festivities. Adrian made his way to the courtyard as was his custom, carrying a leather pouch filled with Ray's favorite treats. The Thunderbird was already waiting for him, perched on the edge of the central fountain. Ray's magnificent feathers caught the pale morning sunlight like captured lightning. As Adrian approached, the soft rustling of his robes against the cobblestones was joined by the sound of familiar voices. Harry, Ron, and Hermione emerged from the castle entrance, their voices carrying in the crisp air. The trio had become increasingly inseparable lately, bound together by shared adventures and the unique challenges that seemed to follow Harry Potter wherever he went. The moment Hermione's eyes fell upon Ray, they lit up with the pure wonder. Her entire face transformed showing the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. While Adrian maintained his philosophy of allowing Ray complete freedom to roam the castle grounds, and while the Thunderbird was indeed a familiar sight around Hogwarts, second-year students rarely had the opportunity for close encounters with him. Harry, of course, was different. His regular visits to Adrian's office for afternoon tea had made him quite comfortable around Ray. "Professor Westeros," Hermione said, her voice breathless with excitement as she approached with careful steps, "may I please pet your Thunderbird? It's absolutely magnificent—truly the most beautiful creature I've ever seen!" Adrian observed the genuine awe in her expression and felt his lips curve into a warm smile. "Of course, Hermione. Ray isn't afraid of students—quite the opposite, actually. As long as you approach with kindness and don't harbor any ill intentions, you'll find Ray to be remarkably gentle." Before the words had fully left Adrian's mouth, Ray showed its ability to sense good intentions. Ray glided down from the fountain's edge and appeared in front of Hermione. The bird tilted its head with an almost human curiosity. "Oh, my goodness!" Hermione whispered as she extended her hand with the care of someone handling the most precious artifact in the world. The moment her fingertips made contact with Ray's chest feathers, she let out a cry of pure delight. "I've dreamed of touching a real Thunderbird for so long!!" "With all due respect, Hermione" Ron said after hearing this, pursing his lips from the side, "you only learned you were a witch last year. Before that, you probably thought thunderbirds were just something out of mythology books." He gestured casually toward Ray, clearly unimpressed by the magnificent creature. "Besides, when you get right down to it, it's just a really big bird with fancy feathers... Hey! What are you—ow!" His dismissive commentary was cut short by a sharp elbow to the ribs, delivered with the kind of precision that suggested Hermione had perfected this particular response through frequent use. Sёarᴄh the Nôvel(F)ire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Ronald Weasley, you have absolutely no idea what a Thunderbird represents," Hermione said, her voice taking on the lecturing tone that both Harry and Ron had learned to recognize and fear. "This is one of the rarest magical creatures in existence! I've read about them in many books—they're literally children of storms, born from lightning and thunder. They're as rare as phoenixes, possibly rarer, and each one is said to carry the power of a thunderstorm within their wings!" "Alright, alright, you're absolutely right," Ron conceded, rubbing his ribs. "I should have known better than to question your research." Meanwhile, Harry looked somewhat absent-minded. Adrian keenly noticed this. "What's troubling you, Harry?" He asked. Harry's attention snapped back to the present moment, his eyes focusing on Adrian's face with the slightly startled expression of someone pulled from deep thought. He drew in a slow breath before responding, his voice heavy with regret. "I'm beginning to think that accepting Nearly Headless Nick's invitation might have been a serious mistake..." "Nearly Headless Nick?" Adrian's eyebrows rose with interest, and a knowing smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. "Let me guess—you wouldn't happen to have accepted an invitation to his five-hundredth deathday party, would you?" The question seemed to catch all three off guard. Hermione and Ron immediately turned their full attention to Adrian, their expressions showing a mixture of surprise and curiosity that said they were wondering how their professor had managed to deduce this information. "How did you know, Professor?" Ron asked, his voice filled with genuine bewilderment. "Did Nick mention it to you?" Adrian reached into his leather pouch and took out another of Ray's favorite treats. As he gave it to Ray, he smiled with obvious amusement. "Actually, Nick extended the same invitation to me. But I declined." "You declined?" Hermione couldn't help but show a puzzled expression, and asked. "But why would you turn down such a unique opportunity? Wouldn't a ghost party be interesting? I bet it would be quite fascinating." Adrian smiled mysteriously. "Well, my dear students, I suppose you'll discover the answer to that question for yourselves tonight. I have a feeling you're in for what one might call an... unforgettable evening." He paused, his expression shifting to one of mild regret. "Besides, I wouldn't have been able to attend even if I'd wanted to. Professor Dumbledore has arranged a special task for me this evening—I need to help him receive and coordinate the Skeleton Dance Troupe he's booked for tonight's Halloween entertainment." "What a shame," Hermione said, though her tone said she was still more excited than disappointed about her own evening's prospects. "I'm sure the skeleton dancers will be spectacular, but a genuine deathday party sounds like such a rare experience!" Adrian maintained his smile, though privately he thought quite differently. Only students with their natural enthusiasm and inexperience would eagerly accept Nick's invitation. Anyone with a more mature understanding of ghosts would have found a polite way to decline. He couldn't help but recall the incident from several weeks ago, when Peeves had somehow managed to knock over an entire bucket of what the poltergeist had cheerfully described as "ghost soup" right outside his office door. The smell had lingered for days despite every cleaning charm he could devise. As evening fell upon Hogwarts, the Great Hall underwent its annual Halloween transformation. The usual floating candles had been joined by hundreds of live bats that swooped and dove through the enchanted ceiling. Jack-o'-lanterns of every conceivable size grinned from every available surface—some no larger than a child's fist, others so enormous they required levitation charms to position properly. Adrian particularly noticed one pumpkin that appeared to be larger than two Hagrids standing side by side. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation as students and faculty gathered for what promised to be one of the most memorable Halloween celebrations in recent memory. At precisely seven o'clock, Adrian took his position near the Great Hall's main entrance, ready to fulfill his assigned duty. The massive oak doors swung open, and the Skeleton Dance Troupe made their grand entrance. The sight was both mesmerizing and slightly unsettling. A dozen skeletons marched through the doorway in perfect formation. Their step produced a synchronized symphony of clicks and clatters, creating a rhythm that was oddly hypnotic. The troupe's leader stood a full head taller than the other performers, and Adrian immediately noticed that its bones had an unusual pearl-like luminescence that set it apart from its companions. "Good evening," the lead skeleton said it's jaw bones clicking crisply as they opened and closed. "Please, just call me Bill. We are absolutely delighted that you've invited us to perform this year. I can promise you that we'll deliver the most spectacular skeleton dance you've ever witnessed!" Adrian found himself momentarily at a loss for words. How exactly did one conduct a conversation with a live talking skeleton in a way that would make them feel welcomed and appreciated? Falling back on the universal principle that complimenting someone's appearance was usually a safe conversation, he decided to acknowledge what was clearly a point of pride for the performer. "Mr. Bill," Adrian said with genuine sincerity, "I must say, your bones are remarkably well-maintained. The condition is truly impressive." The skeleton's jawbone clicked with what could only be described as pride. "Why, thank you so much! Three centuries of dedicated olive oil treatments, my dear professor. Though I should mention—you've gotten my gender quite wrong." Adrian felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. "Oh... my apologies, Ms. Bill. I should have been more observant." Adrian said, somewhat stunned by Bill's words. The name Bill didn't seem very feminine. Afterward, Adrian carefully looked Bill up and down. "Think nothing of it," Bill replied with a dismissive wave of one skeletal hand. "It happens more often than you might think. Now then, please do look forward to our performance—we've prepared something truly special for tonight!" As full darkness settled over the castle grounds, students and faculty members began entering the Great Hall in groups and pairs. After the Skeleton Dance Troupe's wild performance ended, the feast officially began. Adrian sat at the staff table and indeed found that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not present. It seemed they had truly accepted Nick's invitation and gone to attend his five-hundredth deathday party. Adrian couldn't help but smile to himself as he reached for a perfectly carved slice of pumpkin pie. He could only hope the three young Gryffindors were enjoying their unique experience—and that when they eventually returned to the Great Hall, there would still be some of the feast left for them to enjoy. Meanwhile, deep in the castle's dungeon levels, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were discovering exactly what Adrian had meant by his cryptic warning about an "unforgettable evening." The dungeon classroom that Nearly Headless Nick had taken for his celebration bore no resemblance to the warm, inviting atmosphere of the Great Hall above. Black hangings draped the stone walls, and dozens of black candles provided the only lighting—their flames were creating more shadows than light. The air was thick with the smell of dampness and decay, as if the stones were slowly moldering away. The party was well underway when the three arrived, and they quickly realized they were the only living attendees among a gathering of dozens of ghosts. What had initially seemed like it might be an fascinating experience quickly became an exercise in endurance for anyone living. The ghosts' idea of entertainment had no resemblance to anything the living might find enjoyable. Their laughter consisted of bone-chilling wails that made the students' teeth ache and their spines crawl with involuntary shivers. What the spirits apparently considered pleasant background music sounded remarkably like fingernails being dragged across blackboards. But perhaps most disturbing of all was the food table. The ghosts had provided what they clearly considered to be delicious delicacies, but every item was in various stages of decay. Moldy bread grew fuzzy green beards, rotten fish curled up like sleeping cats, and what might once have been a beautiful cake now resembled something that belonged in a compost bin rather than on a dining table. The smell rising from these "treats" was indescribable—a combination of sour milk, rotting vegetables, and something that might have been dead for weeks. The entire dungeon classroom was permeated with a damp, moldy atmosphere that seemed to seep into their clothes and hair, making every breath a struggle against nausea. When the gathered ghosts became completely absorbed in watching a demonstration by the Headless Hunt—a troupe of ghostly horsemen who entertained the crowd by playing catch with their own severed heads—Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged a series of meaningful glances. Without needing to discuss it, all three quietly and carefully removed themselves from their seats. Moving sneakily, they crept toward the classroom door while the other party guests were distracted by the sporting display. Their only thought was escape—escape from the wails and screeches, escape from the nauseating smells, and most urgently, escape to somewhere they could find actual, edible food. When they finally emerged from the dungeon classroom into the relatively fresh air of the corridor, Ron immediately took the deepest breath his lungs could accommodate, as if he'd been underwater for the past hour. "Professor Westeros was absolutely right," He said to the other two, his voice carrying the passion of religious conviction. "Declining Nearly Headless Nick's invitation was definitely the smart choice. Did you see that so-called food? Absolutely disgusting! I think some of it was actually moving on its own!" "Please don't remind me," Hermione said, pressing one hand over her mouth with a slightly green tinge to her complexion. "I'm going to be sick just thinking about it. How do ghosts even taste anything? And why would they choose to taste ?" "Well, at least it was definitely an unforgettable experience," Harry consoled. "Though probably not in the way Nick intended." He glanced hopefully toward the ceiling, in the direction of the Great Hall above. "I just hope the Halloween feast upstairs isn't completely finished yet. Right now, I'd give anything for a simple piece of roast beef and some normal pumpkin juice—food that doesn't smell like it's been buried underground for the past century." ________________ You can read more chapters on: /IamLuis