0177 Shadow of Fear

Soon, the petrified Hufflepuff student was carried to the hospital wing on a floating stretcher. and by the very next day, the word of the attack had spread like wildfire through Hogwarts. After a day of circulation, it seemed everyone knew about it.

On the morning of the third day, all students arrived at the Great Hall early.

Because if nothing unexpected happened, Dumbledore would surely address the recent petrification incidents at Hogwarts today.

Perhaps he would announce an early curfew, perhaps suspend classes, or perhaps something even worse...

Who knew?

The dining hall was already packed with people, yet it remained eerily quiet, with only occasional whispered discussions and the clinking of cutlery against plates breaking the silence.

Even Ron who was usually enthusiastic about food sat staring at his untouched sausages as they grew cold on his plate. His face was pale, and his eyes darted nervously toward the staff table.

The usually lively Great Hall was now shrouded in an oppressive cloud of gloom.

At the staff table, Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed into a thin line and she had a stern expression. Professor Snape's looked grim and his eyes scanning the students was like a hawk searching for prey. Professor Flitwick on his cushioned chair looked worried, while Professor Sprout kept glancing toward the greenhouse windows as if calculating how much longer her Mandrakes would need to mature.

Oh, and there was Lockhart, who seemed to be staring blankly at the ceiling.

In any case, judging by expressions alone, it was impossible to tell who the culprit might be.

Finally, the great hall's doors creaked open, and every head in the hall turned toward the entrance.

All eyes turned toward the entrance in unison as Professor Dumbledore walked slowly down the center aisle.

"I'm sure you're all aware of the recent events that have casted a shadow over our beloved school," Dumbledore said as he reached the front, his voice resounding clearly throughout the room. "Regarding these troubling incidents, I have several important announcements to make."

Adrian shifted in his seat, already knowing what was to come from the emergency staff meeting held the previous evening.

"In recent days, several students have been attacked by an unknown creature," Dumbledore continued, his voice sounding heavy with sorrow. "I can assure you that those affected are not in mortal danger. Professor Sprout's Mandrakes are growing, and once they reach full maturity, we will be able to restore our friends to their natural state.

But even so, we still need to take action to prevent similar incidents from happening again."

In fact, after various rumors had spread, the students had basically concluded that the "unknown creature" Dumbledore mentioned was the legendary basilisk.

Of course, they couldn't be completely certain.

After all, no one had actually seen it.

Oh, well, Justin had seen it, but he was already petrified at the time and probably hadn't gotten a clear look.

As soon as Dumbledore paused, the hall erupted in a noise of nervous whispers. The sound rose like the buzzing of a disturbed beehive, carrying fragments of conversation like:

"...heard it was a basilisk..."

"...my mum says they should close the school..."

"...what if it comes for us next..."

Ron pushed his plate away with a disgusted expression, seeing the cold grease in his sausages. He leaned close to Harry and Hermione and whisphered. "What do you reckon happens next? They can't send us home early, can they? Easter holidays are just around the corner, and I was looking forward to—"

"Worst case scenario," Harry interrupted, his eyes growing troubled, "they might suspend classes." He caught Adrian's eye across the table, remembering their earlier conversation.

"Suspend classes?!" Hermione shrieked, causing several nearby classmates to turn and look at them.

She quickly lowered her voice to whisper but her tone remained urgent. "What about our end-of-year examinations? How can we possibly be prepared if we miss weeks of classes—"

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes so intensely they nearly disappeared into his skull. "People are being petrified left and right, there's some monster roaming the castle, and you're worried about exams?"

"They're incredibly important for—"

"QUIET!"

Dumbledore's voice boomed across the hall with such intensity that even the ghosts seemed to pause in their wanderings.

"Please give me your complete attention," He continued, "Beginning this very evening, all students must return to their respective common rooms no later than six o'clock. No student—regardless of year or House—may venture into the corridors after that time. This rule will be strictly enforced."

Harry noticed Fred and George Weasley exchanging meaningful glances and whispering at their Gryffindor table. No doubt they were already planning ways around these new restrictions, or perhaps discussing the impact on their various pranks.

"Furthermore," Dumbledore continued, "all classes will now require a professor to escort students. No student will move through the corridors unaccompanied. All Quidditch training sessions and matches are hereby suspended until further notice. Finally, Professor Sinistra's evening Astronomy classes will be moved to daytime hours."

Dumbledore's words fell like stones into water, creating ripples of shock that spread throughout the hall. "These measures, while restrictive, are necessary for your safety. I trust you will all comply without question. That is all."

As Dumbledore stepped back, the hall erupted once more in discussion, but this time the tone was different—it was more resigned rather than panicked.

Students began to realize that, all things considered, these restrictions were relatively mild. At least they could continue their classes, even if under more strict conditions.

The suspension of Quidditch, however, hit some students particularly hard. Oliver Wood looked as though someone had informed him of a death in his family. His neat brown hair was disheveled from running his hands through it in distress.

"This is absolutely unacceptable!" Wood complained loudly to anyone nearby, his voice thickening with emotion in Scottish accent. "I can't believe it! How can they possibly cancel Quidditch? What danger could there possibly be fifty feet above the ground? The creature can't fly, can it? We'd be safer in the air than walking these corridors!"

His protests, however passionate, fell on deaf ears. Dumbledore's word was final, and the cancellation of Quidditch was unchangeable.

At the staff table, most professors maintained their composure, having been prepared for these announcements.

Only Professor Sinistra appeared genuinely distressed.

This was unavoidable—her classes had been moved to daytime.

She couldn't help but worry, as you can't see stars during the day—although some magic could solve this problem, it wasn't a long-term solution.

The days that followed were filled by an uncomfortable adjustment period.

Hogwarts, which had always prided itself on fostering independence and magical creativity through freedom of movement and exploration, suddenly felt more like a fortress under siege. Students were constantly checking time, calculating how long they could spend in the library before racing back to their common rooms.

The corridors, once filled with the happy chaos of students hurrying between classes or meeting friends, now felt eerily restricted. Professors escorted groups of students like shepherds guiding vulnerable flocks of sheep.

Common rooms became overcrowded where students huddled together, finding comfort in numbers. Study groups formed spontaneously, not just for academic purposes, but for the psychological comfort of being with a group.

Time seemed to pass by under these restrictions, but eventually, the Easter holidays arrived like a welcome relief.

The two-week break, traditionally a time of relaxation and preparation for end-of-year examinations, brought with it the annual ritual of course selection for the upcoming year.

Second-year students faced the intimidating task of choosing their elective subjects.

Second-year students needed to decide on their third-year electives during this holiday.

Everyone was somewhat overwhelmed.

Choosing courses was like opening blind boxes—they hadn't taken these classes before, so how could they know what to choose?

They could only make judgments by asking others.

Neville became a particularly popular figure during this period, as his grandmother and various great-uncles and aunts seemed determined to guide his choices through large letters. Harry watched with a mixture of amusement and envy as Neville's mail pile grew daily, each letter containing detailed opinions about the merits of various subjects.

As for he himself, following Adrian's advice, Harry had already settled on Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes. However, peer pressure and loyalty led him to also select Divination, mainly because Ron had become inexplicably enthusiastic about the thought of predicting the future.

"Are you certain about taking that class?" Harry asked him doubtfully. "I remember Professor Westeros mentioning that Divination requires a specific type of innate talent, and that most wizards simply don't possess the necessary... intuitive abilities."

Ron's chest puffed out with pride. "How would you know whether I possess divination talent or not? Maybe one of my ancestors was a seer."

"Oh, honestly," Hermione interjected, having completed her course selection form. "Stop indulging in wishful thinking and face reality. Divination is largely considered a pseudoscience by serious magical academics."

Ron peered over her shoulder at her parchment and let out a low whistle of amazement. "Blimey, Hermione, you've ticked every single box! You're taking absolutely everything they offer!"

Hermione proudly lifted her chin.

"You probably won't have enough time," Harry reminded her. "That would be a big problem."

"Don't worry," Hermione smiled mysteriously. "Professor McGonagall told me not to worry about the time issue."

Seeing this, Harry didn't ask any more questions.

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