With the start of the fourth week of study, clubs and circles opened, but I myself had not yet shown a craving for anything from the rather meager list. My comrades, except Justin, one way or another participate in these clubs, which led to a reduction in the number of our joint activities. Justin, by the way, complained that a club of vocal-instrumental themes could not form in the school for many years, not counting the choir under the direction of Professor Flitwick.
"I would go there," he said at dinner on Friday. "But I don't like classical academic vocals at all, and I'm not much of a singer. But I wouldn't refuse to play something. Maybe even learn to do it properly."
In general, studies went on.
Defense Against the Dark Arts became the most popular subject in the whole castle. If students' conversations are to be believed, Lupin is almost the best teacher of this subject, and any student of any year could confirm this. I wonder what such a phenomenal staff hunger is connected with?
Immersing myself in routine, but turning it into a life schedule, I calmly and slowly studied magic, trying not to stick out unnecessarily—Dementors were annoying. Against them, of course, I worked out the Patronus spell to the state of a mist or a shield, but one must understand—training in class is a "spherical horse in a vacuum." I shouldn't flatter myself that I can allegedly drive away a Dementor in field conditions and using the local school of wizardry. And yes, I wonder what happened to that sprout, but so far I am not going to run around the neighborhood looking for it—it is unreasonable in the current situation.
Practice in Potions with Daphne and under the supervision of Professor Snape went by leaps and bounds. The purchased ingredients were consumed at a huge speed, because we had additional classes almost until curfew, and we brewed four or five potions at a time. Of course, with the Professor's approval, like: "You haven't broken, blown up, or melted anything yet, and I wonder how long you'll last."
The most offensive thing for me was that after the incident at Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid clearly lost confidence in himself, or maybe someone from above expressed an urgent request, saying: "Cool your ardor, uncle." In general, the lessons became as dull as possible—caring for Flobberworms. If only they were some Shai-Hulud "larvae"… I wonder which nook of memory this name and association with the worm crawled out of? And what is "Bene Gesserit"? In general, sad. But I did not lose heart, conducting experiments on them with Life energy. So far everything went well, and specifically, nothing bad happened. And nothing happened at all—these worms are so dull.
At the beginning of October, autumn finally began to show its gloomy and slimy character—fogs became more frequent even during the day, eternally overcast sky, from which rain poured now and then. It was at the beginning of October, before another Quidditch practice, that Cedric asked us all to stay in the locker room and told us that we would play against Gryffindors in the first match of this year.
"We'll have to strain hard," Cedric said, gathering us all in a circle. "Oliver Wood will surely squeeze all the juices out of his team. This is his last year, and it must end triumphantly."
"Does he care about Quidditch that much…" Herbert shook his head.
"He does, buddy, he does. He dedicated almost all his studies at Hogwarts to Quidditch. This is his last chance to be noticed by the island teams. Which means they will play hard and give one hundred percent."
"Yeah… So our game will be at the beginning of November, not at the end, and not with the thoughtful Ravens, but with the crazy Griffs."
"Precisely. Which means we will train no worse than them. Maybe we don't play for victory at any cost, but we are not going to lose either. Right?"
"Yes!"
"Excellent!"
In general, after this conversation, training was not postponed due to weather, mood, insomnia, and other troubles, but was not excessive either. It wasn't particularly hard for me, because I added endurance exercises to my training complex. At first, I even planned to turn off the bracelet to make it easier to exercise, but after weighing all the "pros" and "cons", I abandoned this idea. But I will turn it off at matches.
Days dragged on even faster one after another, and I was drawn into the school bustle and everyday life. I won't say that it was particularly interesting, or too unusual, but a human is a social being. It is easily drawn into any bustle around if it does not have a clear antipathy to such things. I didn't.
. . . . .
Amazing how fast time can fly. The elf's memory claimed that sometimes years can fly by like just a couple of weeks, but my own memory stubbornly protested against such a worldview. But, be that as it may, almost a month flew by in studies and training.
The daily routine became even more stable. Wake up, physical exercises, shower, Quidditch practice or breakfast immediately, studies with lunch and dinner, and here comes personal time, which I spend either with guys from the House, doing homework, or with guys, again, from the House, practicing charms, or visiting the library and creating notes in notebooks on various magical disciplines. In the end, from local magic, Potions captivated me—this is the only science that looks like a science. Everything else I learned mainly to broaden my horizons.
"What horizons?" someone listening to my thoughts would ask. But the answer to this simple question lies in the details. Even if there are incomplete shards of knowledge in my head, fantasy didn't reach some things even for them. Take, for example, a spell that ties shoelaces. What wild nonsense—spending magic on what you can do with your own hands?! But this is nonsense only in conditions of magic deficit, and in conditions of its boundlessness—a common thing. And there are many such trifles. Take the same Patronus Charm—it consumes just a wild amount of neutral energy to create a simulation of a completely unstructured stream of energy of Light, Order, Life, and a number of others unknown to me. At the same time, you create this entire stream yourself. Yes, an elf or any other wizard whose memories I have would strangle the hell out of anyone who uses energy so unreasonably!
In general, the absence of restrictions allows locals to realize fantasies with much greater freedom. Studying local magic, I stimulate this very fantasy to work, simultaneously hoping to find some really interesting knowledge and formulas working in local realities. So far without much success, but I'm not giving up.
The morning of October 30th began for us with Madam Sprout visiting the common room. There is nothing surprising in this, but not on Tuesday?
"Guys," she spoke when we were all gathered to go to breakfast. "Guys, a minute of attention, please!"
The smiling and kind stout lady with funny curls of graying hair under a neat hat looked at us with a smile, and when we were finally ready to listen, continued:
"Tomorrow the first visit to Hogsmeade this year will take place. I ask everyone who has permissions signed by parents or guardians to hand them over to me now."
Of course, many immediately ran to their rooms, and only a few climbed into their backpacks and bags. I was among the latter—my parents prepared everything necessary, and this permission was included.
A couple of minutes later, all organizational issues were resolved, and Madam Sprout continued.
"Tomorrow, Wednesday, October 31st, is officially a day off. In the morning after breakfast, everyone who has the right to visit Hogsmeade is requested to gather in the Hogwarts courtyard, which is before the exit from the castle. Have a good day. Kiddos, study well."
Naturally, after such an obvious reminder that two months of study had passed, and over there, outside the castle walls, small but only entertainments, variety, shopping, and all that stuff awaited us, the school day went down the drain completely. Everyone just discussed where one could go in Hogsmeade, where one should go in Hogsmeade, and where one shouldn't go in Hogsmeade.
Well, on the morning of the thirty-first, we all stood in "civilian" clothes in the middle of the inner courtyard at the very exit, literally sticking around the fountain in the center, as well as other surfaces on which one could sit, lean, and the like. And when I say "we", I mean almost all the students of the school with few exceptions—there was almost no free space around. Fog around, humidity, and light coolness. Right now such weather pleased me, but at the beginning of autumn, it created only suffocation.
"And remember," Professor McGonagall instructed us in her black hat and robes. "Visits to Hogsmeade are a privilege. If this affects your academic performance, you will be deprived of this privilege."
One of the few who remained in the castle, but the only one who saw us off with a sad gaze, was Potter. Unlucky guy, what can you say.
We left the school, following Professor McGonagall in a cheerful crowd. My sharp gaze noticed as many as ten wizards in red robes, who hid quite well in the area, escorting us. It seems we were given a sort of guard—the threat of Sirius Black hadn't gone anywhere, but we didn't have any information about him either. The unknown, as is known, only aggravates the situation.
During the journey to Hogsmeade, a village on the plain at the foot of Hogwarts, the crowd of students mixed so much that I no longer saw familiar faces around me. And when we reached the village itself, I was captivated by looking at wonderful wooden and stone houses that seemed to have come out of an English fairy tale—high and sharp tiled roofs, pleasant decoration, cobbled road underfoot, bright shop windows on the ground floors of houses. And most importantly—no pretentious signs and smoking or flying obscenities here and there, like in Diagon Alley—everything in a unified English style. While I was looking at the details, the crowd of students broke up into groups and dissolved around the village in a stream bursting with enthusiasm.
And who remained?
Standing practically at the entrance to the village, right after the bridge, amidst gloomy dark green grass and ferns growing in the distance, I looked for those I knew among groups of students and rare adults.
"He-he-he," an insidious laugh escaped me by itself when I saw two girls I knew with scarves of Slytherin colours.
"…how quickly they ran away," Parkinson looked around, adjusting the collar of her green coat.
"Should have been more attentive," Daphne answered her, trying, on the contrary, to find more freedom in her black coat.
"Ladies," I appeared "out of nowhere," wedging myself between them and deftly hooking both by the elbow.
"Granger!" they screamed simultaneously in surprise.
"Oh, thank you, ladies," I led them down the street. "Or I already started forgetting my surname in the friendly and familiar environment of my House."
A whole cavalcade of absurdly happy fifth or sixth years rushed past us. Kindergarten—pants on straps. But their enthusiasm is contagious.
"Hector," Daphne looked at me reproachfully, but didn't remove her hand from the crook of my elbow. Actually, like Parkinson, following her friend's example. Herd mentality manifests itself even in such trifles, and I am also subject to this, frankly speaking.
"Yes?"
"Your impudence knows no bounds."
"Precisely," confirmed Pansy, looking around, probably looking for green scarves on students. "Such behavior does not become an adult wizard."
"Adult? Ladies, don't rush to live. Growing up is inevitable, which will come regardless of our desires," we were approaching an amusing-looking sweet shop, through the windows of which counters simply sparkling with bright colours were visible.
"But childhood and youth," I continued, leading the girls to this sweet shop, "pass irrevocably. Another five years, and no one will stand behind our backs, insuring. We will have to make important decisions on which a lot depends, and there will be no mentors nearby to correct. Pranks, rash and impulsive acts that one wants to commit so much will be impermissible."
"In short, Nostradamus," Daphne smirked, and I opened the door for them.
"In short? Carpe diem. Let's look for some goodies!"
Of course, we were far from the first here, but due to the variety of representatives of all age groups and Houses, no one cared about two Slytherins and one Hufflepuff. Sweets here, in "Honeydukes," were for every taste, colour, and degree of perversion of fantasy—just look at various animated chocolate sweets, Every Flavour Beans, and other enchanted murk. My eyes ran wide from the variety of colours and shapes, and the elf shard seemed to shake its head, looking at this truly childish outrage. But credit should be given to those who invented all this—what could be more tempting for kids, and adults too?
After the sweet shop, we went for a walk around the village. The girls bought a lot, came out to a couple of Galleons, which I, as a decent gentleman, laid out of my pocket.
By general tacit agreement, we bypassed the magical joke shop "Zonko's". As it turned out, such things are not in our interests at all. Although I would have stopped by to see what wizards came up with, considering the boundlessness of energy available for the implementation of ideas.
Pansy tried diligently to look out for someone among the students flashing here and there for the first hour of the walk, but soon gave up, and when Daphne and I started talking about potions and the latest news from potion-making magazines, she joined the discussion altogether. These magazines, by the way, like many others, are customarily left on a large table in our common room so that anyone can get acquainted with the news of interest. They say that Madam Sprout herself orders all periodicals, and Prefects lay out the new ones, removing irrelevant copies to the House library. Gradually one topic of conversation replaced another, and Pansy seemed to even forget that she was walking arm in arm and talking to an "unworthy" wizard. Actually, like Daphne. In general, I noticed more than once or twice that Parkinson expresses her "pah" towards Muggle-borns only when she needs to sit on Malfoy's ears. Well, I noticed on the very first day that she is one of the "factors of ideological indoctrination" of Malfoy, so I'm not surprised.
The shop of the best weekend outfits for wizards, if the name is to be believed, naturally attracted the attention of young ladies, and only an hour later we left it, becoming owners of a dark green beret for Pansy, a bag with something unknown to me for Daphne, and winter gloves made of the skin of some magical crock-o-saurus for me—I really didn't have winter ones.
Standing on the threshold of this shop, which was almost at the end of the village, we looked around, looking for a direction for a further walk, and the other students tired by lunch time were walking around Hogsmeade much more sluggishly, and the sizes of the companies decreased.
"Aside! Into the building!" a distant and strict female voice reached us.
Turning to the voice, we saw a girl in red robes and with a wand in her hands running towards us. A familiar feeling forced me to literally throw my head up to the sky. From behind the roof of the clothing store, two Dementors emerged and headed towards us at great speed, stretching out their bony hands like corpses in my direction, scaring me considerably. Yes, scaring—such monsters will scare anyone, and a person will lie if he claims otherwise.
Sudden fear gives rise to one of two fundamental reactions in a person—fight or flight. I, as it turned out, run badly. The wand appeared in my hands by itself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girls looking up after me, and a shadow of horror appeared on their faces.
"Expecto Patronum," I exhaled quietly, making the correct wave of the wand and purposefully pumping a heap of uncontrolled neutral energy into it.
The back of my head felt phantom pain from an imaginary slap, which would invariably have flown to me from the teacher of the elven shard along with an unremovable curse of infertility—individuals who spend a sea of energy so thoughtlessly have no business reproducing.
But while the back of my head reflected on phantom sensations intensified by both the impact of Dementors and the flash of light at the tip of the wand in my hand, this very flash of light literally exploded in one powerful wave, pushing and driving away the Dementors screaming in horror.
It is worth noting that although the girls pressed their backs closer to me, they held the "circle," and wands were ready. Did someone teach them something more than at school? Need to find out.
"How are you?!" a violet-haired girl in red robes ran up to us. "Alive? Is everything okay?"
"I wonder," I smirked. "Dementors feed on positive emotions, happiness. The Patronus is formed by positive emotions, happiness. Do they run away in fear of overeating?"
"I am much more interested," the violet-haired girl didn't give a second for reflection, "why this couple attacked specifically you? Maybe you are involved in their disappearance?"
"Disappearance?"
"Tonks!" a hoarse roar sounded from the side, and an elderly stout wizard in a raincoat, with a prosthesis instead of one leg and a large staff in his hands, came out from around the corner of the house. "You blab too much, and work too little!"
The man approached us, looked over with his native eye, and the second was replaced by a large artificial analogue held on straps in a special mount on the eye socket.
"Scram to some eatery for hot chocolate, kiddos," the man said much calmer, and I noted many scars on his face. "And I'll go to one old geezer, find out if his senile marasmus is so deep that he releases children close to the Dementor guard zone."
We silently watched the limping man leaning on a staff, who moved quite briskly and quickly.
"Come on, come on, kiddos," the one named Tonks pushed us in the back. "Nothing to stand here after such a thing. Cool Patronus, by the way."
"Practiced for almost two months," I replied, grabbing the girls still in quiet shock and fear by the arms. "First time so powerful. Out of fear, probably."
"He-he," Daphne laughed stupidly, obviously relieving stress. "Last time, out of fear, you smashed the wardrobe with the Boggart, the Boggart, and half the staff room to smithereens."
"Yeah?" Tonks, who walked nearby and urged us on, was surprised. "And if you see a dragon—will you destroy Hogwarts?"
"Not excluded."
Tonks led us to the Three Broomsticks and went on her way. This establishment was one of the first that met Hogwarts students, and stood almost closest of all village houses to the castle. It was much livelier around, and as soon as we got closer, a crowd of Slytherins tumbled out of there, including Malfoy. They saw us, we saw them, and Pansy clearly couldn't explain the situation immediately, and she had to.
"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, what joy!" I immediately headed towards them. "You are exactly who we were looking for. I hand over these ladies into the reliable hands of colleagues."
With a short gesture, I pushed the girls towards their House colleagues.
"Granger," Malfoy's pleased face changed to neutral-dismissive.
"We saw two Dementors here. I think young ladies will be completely safe in the circle of talented pureblood wizards. By the way. Dementors are somewhere here. Feel it, Mr. Malfoy? Have a good day!"
Saluting in parting, I hurried to the castle, catching up with a group of older Hufflepuffs.
"Hi, folks, how was the day?"
"Oh, hi. Alone? We are already returning," a seventh-year replied.
"Walked enough for two months ahead already."
"Happens," the guy nodded, and two of his colleagues continued to talk about their own things. "It's from an overabundance of emotions."
We reached the castle quickly. By the time I reached the common room, changed clothes, put away some purchases, practiced magic a little, it was already time to go down to the festive dinner, because today is not only the first trip to Hogsmeade in a year, but also Halloween.
The closer I got to the Great Hall, the stronger the smell of pumpkin was felt. Entering the hall, I was amazed by the number of different decorations on the theme of Halloween, but what seemed much stranger to me was that the holiday of ordinary people was being celebrated, which is damn perverted in its true essence, and has no connection with magic at all. But this is no reason to refuse temptingly smelling food and cheerful company, and therefore I joined the dinner without any twinge of conscience.
But there was something… Something alarming. And the longer the dinner lasted, the more tense this feeling was. In the end, when, following at least some etiquette, one could leave the holiday, I got up from the table, like twenty percent of students from different Houses and years, and hurried to the exit.
"Hector!" someone called me at the doors of the Great Hall, but I didn't attach importance, almost breaking into a run, following intuition.
Intuition is a strange thing. It can be silent all your life, but at some specific moment suddenly sound the alarm with such force that out of habit it throws you into panic. Not my case, but I followed this feeling desperately.
"Wait!" they called me again. "Damn it…"
The voice was quite far away, and I was in a hurry, so another time.
Almost breaking into a run, I reached the exit from the castle, passed through the open doors, the inner courtyard, left the territory. It was already dark outside, the sunset strip almost extinguished, and the stars flared up brighter every second, as did the almost full moon. It was in the light of this moon that it was easy for me to move along the night path down to the Black Lake, where intuition led me.
Only when I almost reached the shore, when I could clearly see the almost smooth surface of the lake and the stars with the moon reflected in it, did I stop. On the shore stood a completely unknown and huge thing, as if woven from vines. This creature looked like an animal—four powerful paws, a powerful body, head, maw, tail of several vines. It seemed that its body was in constant motion, vines moved, intertwined, and distorted the body, creating a feeling of amorphousness.
Familiar critter…
I took a step out of the forest, for I knew that the wonder-yudo would not touch me. This knowledge came from somewhere so deep in consciousness, subconsciousness, and soul that it is impossible to dig down there on your own. Another step…
"What are you doing?" I was pulled by the sleeve of my robe, trying to drag me back into the forest. "Crazy?"
"What are you doing here?" I answered the breathless Daphne in the same whisper.
"I needed to talk, and talk now. And no, I won't let go. I didn't spend time preparing a partner just for him to die ingloriously," she hissed, looking angrily at me with blue eyes.
"It won't touch me, believe me."
Again I took a step towards the creature shifting on the shore, but Daphne didn't let me go. But her anxiety is in vain, and I trust my feelings. Placing a hand on hers, I squeezed soothingly.
"You can stay here, but there might be Dementors around. You acted unwisely."
Looking at me angrily, she exhaled, and not letting go of my robe sleeve, went with me to this animal.
"Group suicide. Wonderful," she mumbled. "Know this. If you die, I'll kill you."
When ten meters remained to the animal, it lazily turned its head in my direction, looking with empty eye sockets with green lights instead of eyes. Growling sadly, the animal turned back to the water surface, and I approached almost closely. This miracle really consisted of vines, which was, frankly speaking, surprising, and the sensations of energy in it—a wondrous miracle. Here is Life, and neutral energy, and Death, and some similarity with Dementors. And it feels very bad. Not health-wise, but generally… on a global scale, so to speak.
Reaching my hand almost maximally up, I managed to reach the lowered head of the animal and stroked it. Daphne clung to the robe like a tick, but it seems she believed my words at least a little.
The sensation of a snapped string in space—that's how I interpreted the sudden change of something around. Something unknown and incomprehensible.
"Hector…"
"Yes?"
"Look…"
"Where?"
"There…"
Daphne pulled my sleeve and pointed her hand towards the lake. There, in the thick fog that suddenly covered everything, a large white boat, as if made of crystal, was clearly visible. It exuded a pleasant white light, and something seemed elusively familiar to me in it.
"This is…" Daphne looked at the boat in surprise. "This is suspicious."
"By no means, young witch," a soft female voice sounded from the side, sounding like the overflowing of a harp.
The unknown animal, next to which we stood, turned its head towards the voice and sadly gurgled something, completely spoiling all the charm of the moment with this inappropriate sound. We turned around too.
Surprise is a word that would completely inadequately describe my state. In white shining clothes, a real elf was bypassing us in an arc to approach the animal. Her steps were smooth, golden hair flowed in waves down her back, in general… An elf. My gaze immediately found a small diadem symbolizing status in the House and occupation, and a necklace around her neck betrayed belonging to a House. The combination of such a number of familiar factors, along with surprise from their appearance in principle, literally forced me to give a respectful bow repeated hundreds of thousands of times.
"One who has stepped on the path of wizardry greets the Seer of the House of Blackthorn."
"The past is long forgotten," she replied, nodding benevolently. "Don't you see?"
The sensation of Life energy changed to Death energy, and the elf became ghostly transparent. Ghostly, yes, but she touched the animal's head, making this creation of vines ghostly too. At the same moment, many fireflies separated from the animal, flying up and disappearing.
"You worked well," she smiled weakly at the animal, and it simply melted, turning into a white trail of fog heading towards the boat in the lake.
The ghostly elf shifted her gaze to me, and a fierce cold blew around—just a sensation of her energy, but it took a material form.
"Death erases boundaries, like the evening of this day, blurring reality. One must be more careful, young wizard, stepping in such places on this day."
The image of the elf turned into a trail of white smoke and rushed to the boat, and a moment later the crystal vessel sailed into the fog.
"What was that just now?"
"It seems we were visited from beyond the veil."
The fog slowly disappeared, returning visibility around. But it didn't get easier—the cold of Dementors was felt somewhere nearby.
"We need to leave," I pulled Daphne by the hand away from here, to the castle.
"Samhain is a relic of the past, a relic of the past," Daphne was clearly mimicking someone as we almost ran along the path lit by the almost full moon. "Obsolete traditions must be discarded... Discard here, yeah right!"
I was somewhat confused by the fact that the starry sky changed too much over the past half hour. As if much more time had passed.
Reaching the castle, I fell into a stupor—the main gates were closed. Securely closed.
"They are never closed…"
It seems not only I was in a stupor. There, in the distance, if you look closely, you can see Dementors hovering around the castle at different heights and respectful distances. There were no less than four dozen of them here, and this picture… Was impressive.
"Do you know secret passages out of the castle and into the castle?" I looked at the girl who was warily peering at the figures of Dementors in the sky over Hogwarts. Good thing they froze, waiting for something.
"I studied these years, not looked for adventures," she cut off dryly.
"It seems I'm a bad influence on you."
"Incredible insight," Snape's voice sounded behind our backs. "Blood is not water after all, Mr. Granger. Even though you and your sister are in different Houses, and you successfully fought the craving for adventure for two months. Successfully, but not enough."
"Professor," we turned simultaneously to the voice to meet Snape's disgruntled gaze.
"What were you thinking, going on your reckless adventure when a dangerous criminal broke into the castle."
I can't help but be surprised by the Professor's talent to speak quietly and calmly, but with such notes that he'd better shout.
"Miss Greengrass…"
"It is entirely my fault, Professor," I interrupted him.
"Very noble of you, Mr. Granger, but I know my students inside and out. Miss Greengrass's stubbornness can only be compared with the inability to restrain herself of your sister, Mr. Granger. I am more than sure that no one called the young Miss anywhere, and she didn't ask. Minus ten points to both and two detentions with me. Instead of brewing potions in cauldrons, you will learn the other side of the coin of potioneers' life, cleaning these cauldrons. Follow me."
Snape turned sharply to the gates, touched them, took out his wand, and pronounced a series of spells, directing them to strictly defined places. The result of his actions was the appearance of a small door, which immediately opened. We followed Snape, who walked like a black shadow, fluttering the hems of his robes. The door slammed shut behind us with a crash, and the rustle of moving mechanisms reached my sensitive hearing.
We almost reached the Great Hall through the dark corridors of night Hogwarts when we met an agitated Headmaster Dumbledore.
"Severus, did you find them?"
"Yes, Headmaster. Stood before closed doors, enjoying the night landscape in the form of Dementors flying in the sky. Even a hundred Dementors are not able to stop this herd of sheep, considered students by some misunderstanding, from rash and stupid acts."
"Now, now, no need to be so categorical," the Headmaster shifted his gaze to us. "Is everything alright with you, young people?"
"Absolutely," I nodded.
"Likewise," nodded Daphne.
"Amazing unanimity," Snape smirked. "I hope you will meet cauldron cleaning without magic with the same enthusiasm."
"What about the search for Black?" the Headmaster turned to Snape again.
"I inspected the dungeons and lower levels. He is not there, nor are there traces of his stay."
"Well… I didn't think he would decide to linger in the castle. Be so kind, escort the kids to the common rooms, and I will order the other children to be taken out of the Great Hall back to their beds. I expect you and the other Professors in my office as soon as you finish restoring order."
Snape nodded and silently walked towards the main tower, not even turning around to make sure if we were following him. However, we were walking anyway.
Strange day. Strange ghosts. And pity about the bush.
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