It's just a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Chapter 36 Happy Halloween
Hogwarts had a very lively Halloween dinner this year.

The auditorium was filled with Hagrid's specially bred pumpkin-headed lanterns, and magically conjured black bats were flying around in groups under the ceiling.

It's just that the usual ghosts in the castle did not appear on Halloween, the day when the ghost world is closest to the human world.

Anyone who knows the inside story knows it.

Today is not only Halloween, but also the [-]th anniversary of the death of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Popington (Nick for short), the ghost of Gryffindor.

Such a day is a memorable day for every ghost, so Nick invited the ghost colleagues from all over Hogwarts, as well as other ghost friends outside the school.

After obtaining Dumbledore's permission, he borrowed an underground classroom in the castle and held his own [-]th death anniversary dinner.

Therefore, the ghosts that should have been active at the Halloween dinner in previous years did not appear in the auditorium tonight.

There are rumors that the enlightened principal Dumbledore will invite a skeleton dance troupe to perform tonight.

But the rumors are rumors after all. When the students came to the auditorium, they didn't see the so-called skeleton dance troupe.

But even without ghosts and skeleton dance troupes, Halloween is still a holiday that students love.

The dishes and dishes of the dinner were even richer than the opening dinner, and after the dinner, every student could still get candies that filled both pockets of their robes and couldn't hold them.

This is undoubtedly very attractive to the students in the lower grades.

"What did that old fellow Slughorn say to you after we left last time, Sherlock?"

Hagrid seemed to have drunk some wine, and asked with his tongue out on the professor's long table.

Hearing his question, Sherlock hadn't responded yet, but Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick couldn't help frowning.

"Don't ask Hagrid about such things." Professor McGonagall said with a displeased face, "We don't need to inquire about their private conversations."

Hagrid also came back to his senses at this time, scratched his hair in embarrassment, and smirked twice.

"Sorry, I tend to say the wrong thing after a few sips."

Sherlock waved his hand indifferently, took out the pendant hanging on his chest, and said.

"There's nothing you can't say, he just gave me a small bottle of Felix Elixir."

The slowly flowing Felix Elixir in the small potion bottle is indeed like a work of art, shining brightly under the reflection of the candlelight.

A voice that was more indifferent and hollow than Sherlock's suddenly sounded from the side.

"The brewing process of this kind of potion is very troublesome. A slight mistake will cause irreversible consequences. He is really willing to do so."

It was Snape who spoke.

He rarely joined the chatting of the professors, but his tone was still so blunt, as if he was deliberately criticizing.

Sherlock put the Felix Elixir back into his robe, and nodded flatly.

"He is much more generous than you, Professor Snape. We have known each other for so long and we haven't seen you give me anything."

Snape was stunned speechless for a moment.

Professor McGonagall still had that stern face, but the corners of his mouth were slightly curved, with a slight smile on his face.

Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout didn't hide it, and laughed on the spot.

Even Dumbledore said with a smile on his face.

"Horace is only generous to you. I have been friends with him for almost 70 years, and I have never seen him give me a gift every Christmas."

Then he looked at Snape teasingly and blinked, "Of course, I didn't receive Severus's either."

"Hmph!" Snape snorted coldly, and said stiffly, "I never celebrate Christmas."

Dumbledore laughed.

"It's okay, we're all celebrating Halloween today, how about having a drink together?"

Every professor on the long table, including Snape, raised the cups in front of them, and everyone raised their glasses together.

"Happy Halloween!" said the professors.

"Happy Halloween." Sherlock also shrugged secretly.

Then they drank the wine or drink in the cup in one gulp.

It has been two months since I came to Hogwarts. During this time, Sherlock has discovered that Dumbledore is the pinnacle of this magic school.

Not only the students have great trust in their principal, but even all the professors have great respect for him.

In other words, Dumbledore has absolute authority in Hogwarts, and this authority is convinced by everyone in the castle.

He muttered secretly in his heart.

No wonder the original owner has a brainwashed worship mentality towards Dumbledore.

He has no complete family since he was a child, and he has always regarded Hogwarts as his second home, so he will naturally respect the pillars of this "family" to the extreme.

While the teachers and students in the auditorium were happily enjoying the Halloween dinner, the three of them, Harry Ron and Hermione, were not so lucky.

The ghost's death anniversary dinner is indeed not something that living people can participate in.

Not to mention the gloomy environment and the jaw-dropping music, Harry and the others couldn't eat the so-called "food" at the Death Day Dinner.

The three of Harry, who survived nearly the entire dinner, finally decided to return to the normal Halloween dinner in the auditorium after the ghosts of the Headless Hunter messed up the scene.

"I hope there is still some pudding left for us." Ron said tremblingly as he wrapped his robe tightly around his body.

They tried their best to smile politely at the ghosts around them, and then walked out of the venue of the Deathday Dinner.

Just as they were rushing to the auditorium.

A familiar, cold, murderous voice rang in Harry's ear again.

"...tear you tear you.kill you"

Harry was taken aback, and subconsciously stopped in his tracks.

Hermione and Ron noticed his abnormality and couldn't help asking in confusion.

"What's the matter, Harry?"

Harry leaned on the wall, motioning them to stop talking, and squinted his eyes to find the source of the voice.

Fortunately, the voice did not disappear directly this time, but the voice became weaker and weaker.

Harry was sure it was moving—moving up, and he stared at the dark ceiling with a sudden sense of horror and excitement.

He took Hermione and Ron all the way up the stairs, climbed to the third floor, turned around all the corridors on the third floor, and finally turned a corner and came to the last empty corridor.

Just when Ron was panting and about to ask Harry what the hell he was doing, Hermione suddenly pointed forward and gasped.

"Look!"

Something was shining on the wall in front of them.

They approached slowly, squinting their eyes to identify carefully in the darkness. Between the two windows, on the wall a foot above the ground, there were some writings scribbled, shimmering under the reflection of the burning torches.

[The chamber of secrets is opened. 】

[Those who are enemies with the heir, be vigilant. 】

And right next to these writings, above a puddle, a boy was lying on the ground as hard as a stone sculpture!
(End of this chapter)