Hogwarts' Great Hall was as bright and lively as ever.

The walls were adorned with fire bats, and the giant pumpkins grown by Hagrid were carved into lanterns large enough to hold three or four small wizards inside. Dumbledore had even specially invited a skeleton dance troupe to liven up the Halloween festivities.

The air was filled with the enticing aroma of steak, grilled fish, and freshly baked, fluffy bread.

Bedecked with lanterns and shimmering candlelight, the golden plates on the tables looked quite festive.

However, the warm magical torches, delicious dishes, clinking of glasses and dishes, and the skeleton dance troupe's energetic performance couldn't mask the increasingly bizarre and eerie atmosphere in the hall—a sense of oppressive silence and confusion.

Whether it was the school's faculty or the students attending the banquet, they all seemed somewhat uneasy.

Hogwarts' annual Halloween feast had been going on for over half an hour.

Yet, the Gryffindor table remained empty.

At times like these, the scarlet and gold little lions were always the loudest and most excited in the hall.

With their absence, it was as if someone had opened a crack in the hall's door, and cold wind and silence rushed in madly. Even the ghosts who usually appeared in the hall on Halloween were nowhere to be seen, making the banquet even more desolate.

"Is this really alright, Dumbledore?"

Snape said, his dark eyes gleaming in the candlelight.

"I think this is a rather terrible act of collective indiscipline that could be emulated. Perhaps we should ask those gentlemen and ladies to return to where they should be, and it would be best to give them a slight warning or punishment—"

"Really, Severus," Professor McGonagall retorted sharply, "I have absolutely no idea what is wrong with the Gryffindor students celebrating their house ghost's deathday. Sir Nicholas' deathday is today; do you expect us to forcibly order the students to leave Nick's deathday party in front of hundreds of ghost guests?!"

"Deathday party? I think the things the ghosts are offering at the party are probably not suitable for the living."

Umbridge said softly with a smile, a hint of sarcasm appearing on her fleshy, fat face.

"This is a provocation; they are trying to be different and break the rules—oh, Professor Dumbledore, we should stop this immediately. This is likely to have a terrible impact on the other little ones in the hall."

"Sir Nicholas submitted the application to organize the deathday party several years ago, and I personally approved it—"

Dumbledore said softly, glancing helplessly at the empty Gryffindor table.

"As for the food at the banquet, the Hogwarts kitchen is co-hosting Nick's five-hundredth deathday party. Miss Kaslana provided the ingredients and menu arrangements a week ago, and these have all been submitted to the school board. In all fairness, we can't question or blame the students or Nick... it's just a free choice between two venues."

"What I mean, Headmaster, is regardless of the ghosts' gathering, students need to apply in advance for large gatherings. I have carefully studied the new rules you revised last year—and the Gryffindor students have clearly ignored this."

Umbridge's ugly smile became more obvious as she spoke.

"If you think the banquet downstairs is today's branch venue, there also needs to be a professor there to maintain order. It's quite dangerous to let so many students be alone, away from the professor's sight, for a long time. Obviously, none of us received an application in advance. Therefore, I personally believe that it's very important to correct this situation..."

Since Hogwarts had experienced several group incidents last school year, a new rule had been added.

Large-scale private gatherings and collective activities (including but not limited to multiple duels and mock competitions) are strictly prohibited—any multi-person activities or gatherings of fifty or more people must be conducted under the supervision of at least one official faculty member.

"Cough. Oh, sorry—"

Just then, a slightly tired, gentle voice rang out.

Remus Lupin, looking ill, stood up slowly with an apologetic expression.

"Actually, Weasley told me about it before, but I was feeling a bit unwell at the time and didn't quite hear him clearly—I need to hurry over there—although it's not an official class, it's still too bad to be late as a professor."

"Cough, cough, don't worry, I'll go down and take a look. You guys continue..."

Umbridge looked quite annoyed. Snape also wore an equally displeased expression.

"I don't think this is a mature approach, Professor Lupin."

Umbridge snorted coldly, looking at the man with a fake smile, threateningly.

"I hope you can be mindful of your position. As an official professor, you should be restraining the students' mistakes, not covering up their foolish errors. Of course, if this is truly your job mistake, then I will note it in the observation report I submit to the Ministry, and you can help me sign and confirm it then, can't you?"

"No problem. Also, a slight reminder—teachers and officials are different."

Lupin patiently explained, spreading his hands with a helpless smile.

"As professors, most of the time, isn't our responsibility to help students fill in the gaps?"

"You—"

Umbridge raised her eyebrows, her eyeballs bulging outwards.

This half-human, half-beast dared to embarrass her in public time and time again.

"Please forgive me," Professor Lupin said with a gentle smile, "I have to hurry down to maintain order. Oh, by the way, Professor Black, would you mind coming along to lend a hand? A ghost party is quite rare, and it really tests one's crowd control abilities."

"Gladly—speaking of which, Weasley seems to have mentioned it to me as well; I accidentally forgot—"

Sirius Black laughed, tossing the chicken leg in his hand and wiping the grease on the tablecloth.

"Professor Umbridge, when you have Lupin sign, remember to copy a form for me as well. I'm very familiar with the Ministry of Magic's processing procedures. If there are any deductions or fines, prioritize deducting them from my salary."

"It seems that Professor Black doesn't realize the seriousness of violating the rules—"

Umbridge narrowed her eyes, saying sweetly.

"I'm very sorry," Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, "Since I was imprisoned in Azkaban for ten years, I've thought things through quite thoroughly and clearly. But Professor Umbridge, do you truly revere the rules, or are you merely using them as a tool to display power? This is Hogwarts; there are only two types of people who study the rules—bad students, and... heh."

His gaze lingered on Snape's face, raising his eyebrows provocatively.

An awkward silence fell.

"Let's go."

Lupin pulled on Sirius helplessly.

Since the summer vacation, the relationship between Sirius and Snape had become subtle.

Compared to their previous animosity as enemies, after becoming colleagues, their hostility and confrontation had almost entirely intensified into daily sarcasm. Lupin was always worried about when these two would directly draw their wands and fight in the hall.

As for the source of all these changes...

Remus Lupin pondered silently as he walked down to the underground classroom.

At first, Lupin thought it was about Harry Potter's education.

But as this semester began, he had increasingly clearer and closer contact with a certain little witch, especially after learning many details from Dumbledore and others. Lupin had an extremely rare moment of hesitation.

Without a doubt, Professor Dumbledore hadn't told the whole truth.

If every Veela hybrid was this troublesome, then the world would have been Veela hybrids long ago.

For a moment, Lupin even suspected that Professor Dumbledore wasn't conducting some Dark Lord development plan.

Fortunately, from the information he had so far, this little witch was still within a comprehensible range.

The head chef of the Hogwarts kitchen, a magical genius who appears once in a century, a hybrid with a bit more strength... Even if she has the privilege of traveling through all four houses, she is ultimately just a special student, and she is nothing without this castle.

Lupin still intended to fulfill Dumbledore's expectations as much as possible—to guide and watch over Miss Kaslana to the best of his ability.

……

At the same time.

In the Deathday Party hall, near the small table belonging to Elena and her friends.

Nearly Headless Nick floated over from the "crowd."

Unlike his previous composure, the number of times this gentleman sighed with a worried frown tonight was about as many as he had in the previous hundreds of years combined. He was beginning to regret why he hadn't pushed the Deathday Party time forward by a year or two.

"The ghost food arrangements are especially great, right?"

"Oh, very great." Nick showed a bitter smile.

"The current feedback is quite good," Elena straightened her back with particular pride, "I dare say, this is definitely a milestone-like node in the history of the ghost world—everyone will remember this day. I said I would never let you down!"

"Yes, yes... The Wailing Widow traveled all the way from Kent and almost started a fight with the Bloody Baron—just to fight over a palm-sized piece of cheese. If it weren't for the fact that ghosts can't draw their wands and duel, I estimate that tonight's Deathday Party could have been temporarily changed into the first Ghost Dueling Competition..."

Nearly Headless Nick sighed, his gaze falling on Moaning Myrtle, who was chatting with Hermione next to him.

In his impression, he rarely saw Moaning Myrtle so cheerful.

Just like Peeves, who maintained order with childish, resolute reasons, even if his intention was to prank and cause trouble, there was no terrible situation of a mad rush under his playful assessment games.

The ability of virtual-real conversion allows Peeves to have the possibility of "destroying" food at any time.

On the other hand, no foreign ghosts can pass through the barriers of the Hogwarts kitchen, and the thousands of house-elves standing by are not easy to mess with—the "Law of Obedience" for house-elves does not include obedience to ghosts.

"Miss Kaslana, the time for my speech is almost here—and I've made up my mind."

Nick withdrew his gaze, nodded to Elena, and took the initiative to walk to the side.

As the former "Earl of Aisacks," Nick wouldn't hesitate too long on such a two-choice question—from the moment his identity was revealed, he had completely fallen into the trap carefully woven by this little witch.

The most terrible and sad thing was that he personally handed over the sharpest weapon.

"I'm going to chat with Mr. Nick about some things. Don't worry about me; you guys go play..."

Elena stood up and said softly to the little wings around her.

In fact, she didn't need to worry at all. A group of little witches was now listening to Moaning Myrtle's gossip with great interest.

As the youngest, most curious, and gossipy ghost in the entire Hogwarts castle, Moaning Myrtle may not have any legendary life experience, but she was definitely the best storyteller when it came to various gossips, scandals, and bloody dramas.

"So, what's your answer?"

Elena, who was rarely ignored, pouted and walked to Nick's side.

As she spoke softly, she drew out her wand and nimbly tapped around them.

Invisible magical ripples enveloped the place where they were standing, and even ghosts couldn't easily enter—under Grindelwald's teachings, she had learned how to attach soul fire to magical defenses, which was a very effective little trick.

"If Nicolas Flamel, Paracelsus, and Dumbledore are all there, then I'll join."

Nearly Headless Nick was silent for a few seconds, asking curiously in a low voice.

"But there's one thing I don't understand. You already have so many excellent, erudite, and top wizards working with you to promote change. Why do you still want me to join? In terms of experience and opinions, it's not that the more people there are, the better—that's my experience."

"The reason is very simple because you are different from them—they are wizards, powerful scholars, and nothing more."

Elena shrugged, smiling in the melancholic song of the Siren.

"But the establishment and integration of the new world cannot be completed by brute force and knowledge alone. I..."

Unexpectedly, at this moment, the Siren suddenly stopped singing softly.

Everyone in the underground classroom was silent for a few seconds, looking around excitedly. A hunting horn was blown.

Elena gave Nick a meaningful look.

"The final performance is about to begin, Sir Nicholas... I'll be here waiting for you to come back."

"Oh, of course." Nearly Headless Nick sighed softly.

Twelve ghost horses suddenly rushed out of the walls of the underground classroom, each with a headless rider on its back.

Everyone attending the party applauded enthusiastically.

Elena also clapped her hands. As the planner and organizer of the Deathday Party, she had already obtained the list of ghosts attending the banquet from Nick—this was also one of the reasons for encouraging the Gryffindor students to come: the Headless Hunt performance.

At the same time, it was also an important link in diluting Nick's presence tonight, shifting attention, and leaving only an impression.

The twelve ghost horses ran to the center of the dance floor and suddenly stopped, first standing upright on their hind legs, and then kicking up their hind hooves and darting about.

The foremost horse carried a bulky ghost with a bearded head tucked under his arm, blowing a horn.

He jumped off the horse and held his head high in the air so that he could look down on everyone from above (everyone laughed); he strode towards Nearly Headless Nick, roughly stuffing his head onto his neck.

"Nick!" he roared. "How are you? Head still hanging on?"

He let out a burst of wild laughter and, under everyone's gaze, patted Nearly Headless Nick's shoulder forcefully.

"Welcome, Patrick."

Nick quickly put on a stiff, unwilling expression.

Even though he had personally written the invitation letter for this all-important concluding link—with the Headless Hunt attracting everyone's attention at the banquet, no one would remember the specific content of the speech that was happening at the same time.

"Truly... admirable methods—Sir Nicholas."

Elena returned to the table, admiring Nick's incredibly natural performance.

This was one of Nearly Headless Nick's greatest advantages and values.

After this Deathday Party, Nick's persona would be completely formed in the magical world. No one would associate this pitiful, overshadowed good person with the wizard who single-handedly ended the war between the magical and non-magical worlds centuries ago.

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Yay!