Neither of them felt particularly tired, which worked out well, since Halloween dinner was the main event that evening, and Will had been looking forward to it all day.
Say what you will about British food generally, Hogwarts managed something better, mostly because the house-elves’ recipes weren’t limited to strictly British fare.
Will had recently passed along some suggestions to the kitchen staff and picked up a handful of cookbooks besides, confident he’d be tasting the results before too long.
Just as the two of them were getting ready to head down to dinner…
“Will!
Will!” Sylvia burst through the door of the Room of Requirement, Hermione trailing behind her, face streaked with tears, eyes swollen red.
“I found her crying in the bathroom near the dungeon classrooms.
Took some convincing to get her up here.”
Will pieced together quickly enough that Ron was behind it, some cruel remark said carelessly, or maybe not so carelessly.
Ron’s character had never been short on moments like this, especially early on.
“What happened?” Will asked, genuine concern in his voice.
“Who upset you?”
Sylvia glanced toward Neville, who looked completely lost.
Which made sense, given that only Hermione had actually overheard the exchange between Ron and Harry.
Neville had no way of knowing any of it.
Comforting girls had never been Will’s strong suit, so that particular job fell to Sylvia by default.
…
Hogwarts buzzed with energy that Halloween evening.
The whole castle seemed transformed, festive from top to bottom.
Thousands of live bats swept across the ceilings and walls, while another swarm drifted low over the tables like a rolling black cloud, sending the candlelight inside carved pumpkins flickering with every pass overhead.
The usual floating candles had given way entirely to jack-o’-lanterns, their carved faces throwing warped, flickering patterns of light across the tables below.
Dinner itself outdid anything served since the start of term, an enormous spread, far more variety than the welcoming feast, tables groaning under an endless run of pumpkin-based dishes.
Harry and Ron made their way down together, Harry having just lost a round of wizard’s chess and still catching up on strategy as Ron explained the finer points with obvious enthusiasm.
Two Gryffindor girls passed them in the corridor, Parvati and Lavender, if Harry remembered right.
Parvati was mid-sentence to Lavender as they passed.
“…been crying in the girls’ bathroom all afternoon, apparently, won’t let anyone near her…”
Something about that landed uncomfortably with Harry, and he noticed Ron’s expression sour slightly beside him.
The festive atmosphere in the Hall swept them both up again soon enough.
Harry had never seen anything quite like this feast in his life.
Laughter and noise filled the Great Hall from end to end, students occasionally chasing each other between the tables.
Dumbledore, robes patterned with grinning jack-o’-lanterns, was thoroughly occupied with a slice of pumpkin pie. This story is hosted at g.com.
Then Quirrell burst through the doors, turban askew, shouting about a troll loose in the dungeons.
The announcement shattered the mood instantly, sending the Hall into chaos.
Dumbledore silenced the room with a sharp crack from his wand and turned quickly to confer with the other staff.
Prefects were dispatched at once, herding students back toward their respective common rooms.
Harry’s expression turned grim as he grabbed Ron’s arm.
“Hermione.
I just remembered, she doesn’t know.”
“About the troll?”
Ron bit his lip.
“Let her Slytherin friend handle it, then.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Ron!” Harry’s eyes flashed, sharp enough that Ron actually took a half-step back.
Blimey, Ron thought, genuinely startled.
No wonder Voldemort didn’t stand a chance against this look.
Whatever he’d meant, he caught himself and nodded.
“Fine.
Fine, let’s go.
Just don’t let Percy see us.”
…
Back in the Room of Requirement, Hermione had finally calmed down enough to talk.
The short version: a disagreement with Ron in class had escalated, and afterward he’d said something cutting where she could hear it.
Something about nobody being able to stand her, that she was a nightmare to be around, that only a Slytherin dark wizard would ever want to be her friend.
Will and Sylvia, unfairly, had ended up as collateral in that last remark.
“Don’t waste a second thought on Weasley.
The boy’s about as sharp as a rusted spoon.
Remember when he nearly burned his own tongue off brewing that antidote?” Sylvia teased, working the comfort in alongside the mockery.
“Hermione, you’re the smartest witch I’ve ever met, and plenty of people in Gryffindor genuinely like you.
You’ve won us more points than almost anyone,” Neville added earnestly.
“Fools always resent what they can’t understand.
Sheep move in herds.
Something worth being moves alone,” Will offered, hoping it might land as encouragement.
“Well then, ‘Great Wizard Behrens.’ Herd, or alone?” Sylvia asked, eyes locked on his, clearly enjoying herself. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
The title made Will’s mouth twitch involuntarily.
It had started, unfortunately, in Snape’s classroom, delivered with the man’s usual venomous edge.
“I can hardly believe the Great Wizard Behrens can’t manage a simple shaving technique.
One would think he’d never lost a duel in his life.”
“Look at that, the Great Wizard extracting venom from an Indian speckled snake like a seasoned professional.
Careful, Great Wizard, wouldn’t want to drain it dry and accidentally resurrect the poor thing.”
…
Sylvia had caught the nickname from Snape’s mouth and adopted it immediately, gleefully, for exactly this purpose.
“You’ll be following me.
Alone.”
The others understood well enough what Will was implying about leadership, though Sylvia rolled her eyes at the theatrics regardless.
Neville considered the metaphor for a moment, then asked, genuinely uncertain, “So wait, am I a beast too?”
“Obviously.
You’re standing next to the great and mighty Mr.
Behrens.
What else would you be?”
Will exhaled, thoroughly done with the conversation.
“The feast’s probably already started.
Let’s move.”
Hermione, still lost, looked between them with open confusion.
“What ‘great wizard’?
I have no idea what any of you are talking about.”
Will strode off toward the corridor, expression dark, Sylvia’s laughter trailing brightly behind him the whole way.
Oddly, none of it actually bothered him.
If anything, something in him settled comfortably into the moment.
His strength kept climbing steadily.
His friendships felt solid, easy, real.
Even Dumbledore, who half the wizarding world painted as some unknowable, all-powerful figure, had turned out to be surprisingly easy company.
Maybe this, he thought, is the universe finally paying me back.