Spirit of Halloween

Dear Luna, dear Mr. Lovegood,

I've just learned that Halloween isn't merely a Muggle holiday for tricks and treats — it's also the ancient Celtic New Year.

They say that on the eve of Halloween, which happens to be today, the veil between the world of the living and the dead grows thin, allowing spirits and the god of death himself to walk among us.

I think this is probably just a myth. After all, Hogwarts is home to plenty of ghosts already — like Ms. Grey of Ravenclaw.

Unlike Hufflepuff's ever-chatty Fat Friar, Ms. Grey is much more reserved. She possesses extraordinary knowledge and sometimes even helps students with their studies, though she rarely lingers in conversation.

Oh, speaking of which! Fred and George Weasley told me that something always happens at Hogwarts on Halloween. I must admit, I'm rather looking forward to it.

If I stumble upon an adventure tonight, I'll be sure to write it down and submit it to The Quibbler. Mr. Lovegood, I hope you won't find my story too dull!

Wishing you both a magical Halloween,

Vizet Lovegood

Vizet watched as Sol, his tawny owl, took flight with the letter clutched in his beak, disappearing into the cloudy afternoon sky. He stood up and stretched, rolling his shoulders as he exhaled.

As he penned that letter, it struck him that he had already been at Hogwarts for two months.

Two very full months.

Between weekday classes, Quidditch practice on Tuesdays, and weekend lessons with Professors Quirrell and Snape, his schedule had been nothing short of exhausting.

Despite their differences, he found the two professors oddly similar in some ways.

Quirrell was patient, thorough in his explanations, and rich in theoretical knowledge. He always took the time to answer every question Vizet had, no matter how complex.

Snape, on the other hand, was sharp and direct — his teaching style as cutting as a well-brewed Wit-Sharpening Potion. He rarely wasted words, often opening with cold, scathing criticism, but as Vizet's skills improved, Snape's silence spoke of approval more than disapproval.

No matter their methods, Vizet felt fortunate to learn from them both.

Before he even reached the Great Hall, the sweet aroma of roasted pumpkins filled the air, rich and spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg.

The usually still suits of armor in the corridors had been bewitched to move. If a student passed too closely, they would snap to attention, salute, and bellow, "Happy Halloween!" in deep, echoing voices.

Pumpkins — massive, hollowed-out ones nearly five feet tall — lined the hallways, each carved with eerie faces and flickering candlelight inside. Ghosts playfully lurked within them, leaping out to startle passing students with mischievous grins.

The Great Hall, as expected, had been utterly transformed.

A grand black curtain depicting a silhouette of Hogwarts Castle draped along the far wall, its fabric shifting as if caught in a phantom breeze. Above, a flock of enchanted bats made of black silk glided about, their wings flapping soundlessly as they fluttered across the enchanted ceiling.

The excitement in the air was undeniable.

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Perhaps caught up in the excitement of the season, even Professor Flitwick seemed more enthusiastic than usual as he continued his lesson on the Levitation Charm.

"Remember the technique — swish and flick... Yes! Very lightly, like this! And don't forget the pronunciation — Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa!"

As he demonstrated, his small frame seemed even more animated than usual, his wand carving graceful arcs through the air.

"When you say 'gar,' that's when you begin to move the wand… Now, let's all give it a try!"

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

A chorus of incantations echoed through the classroom, some successful, others not so much.

"Excellent! Vizet's feather is floating as steadily as his Quidditch flight! Ten points to Ravenclaw!" Flitwick declared, beaming.

By now, Vizet was thoroughly accustomed to the importance of precision in both wand movement and pronunciation. This charm, in particular, was relatively simple, and mastering it on the first try was nothing extraordinary for him.

It was such a common occurrence that his Ravenclaw classmates had practically started treating him as an unofficial assistant, gathering around to seek advice on their technique.

Flitwick, inspecting the Gryffindors, gave Vizet an approving thumbs-up before turning his attention to the other side of the room — where the atmosphere was considerably less relaxed.

Seamus, in his usual unfortunate way, had somehow managed to set his feather on fire. If Harry didn't have a quick eyesight and even quicker hands, the flames might have claimed more than just the charm's intended target.

Tension was also brewing between Ron and Hermione.

"You're saying it wrong," Hermione corrected in a crisp tone. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa. Make the 'gar' nice and long. Didn't you pay attention to the lecture? Professor Flitwick just now... I mean... maybe you were nervous. Yes, that's it, you were just...""

Ron's ears burned red as he scowled. "Oh yeah? If you're so brilliant, why don't you do it, then?"

"Fine!" Hermione rolled up her sleeves, gave a sharp flick of her wand, and declared, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather lifted effortlessly, hovering midair with perfect control.

Professor Flitwick clapped his hands in delight. "Well done! Mr. Weasley, I suggest you take notes from Miss Granger. Two points to Gryffindor!"

Ron's face darkened further, but he said nothing.

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As class ended, students filed out, buzzing with excitement for the upcoming Halloween feast.

"I heard Dumbledore ordered a ton of sweets from Honeydukes," Terry said with a conspiratorial grin.

"As long as it's not Cockroach Clusters," Anthony replied with a shudder. "My uncle swears Dumbledore actually likes them."

Michael made a face. "Ugh, don't even mention them! The smell alone is revolting! And if you actually chew one, the legs—"

"STOP!" Chris threw up his hands in horror. "You sound like someone who's eaten a cockroach! I refuse to stand near you!"

"What?! I have never eaten a cockroach!" Michael howled, launching himself at Chris as the two began wrestling in mock outrage.

Vizet chuckled at the ridiculous scene and shook his head.

Then, from behind, Ron's voice called out hesitantly.

"Uh… Vizet? Have you been to the library today?"

"Of course," Vizet replied. "Are you looking for something? Potions homework?"

"Er… not exactly," Ron mumbled, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "I wanted to ask if you've seen Hermione."

Vizet raised an eyebrow. "No. Why?"

Ron's face went as red as his hair. "I, um… might've said some things earlier. Really stupid things."

Harry, standing beside him, sighed. "Ron told her it's no wonder she doesn't have any friends."

Vizet frowned.

"And he also said she's as scary as a nightmare," Harry added.

"That… does sound rather harsh," Vizet admitted.

Ron groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I know! I didn't mean it like that, I was just — ugh. Anyway, she ran off crying, and she skipped all her afternoon classes. History of Magic, Transfiguration, even Flying!"

That made Vizet pause.

Skipping a class wasn't unusual for some students, but for Hermione Granger — who prided herself on her studies — it was practically unthinkable.

"She's never skipped a class before," Harry said gravely. "We're starting to worry something might've happened to her."

Anthony and the other Ravenclaws, who had been listening in, exchanged glances.

"Hermione?" Anthony mused. "You mean the Gryffindor girl who's always in the library?"

"She doesn't seem that bad," Michael added cheerfully. "Maybe you Gryffindors just don't like hardworking students?"

"Different houses, different attitudes," Vizet said with a small smile. Then, looking back at Ron, he added, "Actually… Hermione has mentioned you before."

Ron's head snapped up. "She — what? What did she say?"