Halloween finally arrived.
While the whole school eagerly anticipated the fragrant roasted pumpkins, bat decorations, and the troupe of dancing skeletons Dumbledore had booked for the Great Hall, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had to face a despairing reality—they had promised to attend Nick's 500th Deathday Party.
Rove, of course, was also in the lineup. Unlike the dejected Harry and Ron, he looked a little too solemn.
He had changed into a set of deep black dress robes, buttoned strictly to the collar. Most notably, two rolls of cotton cloth soaked in some green liquid were stuffed into his nostrils, making him sound nasally when he spoke and look quite ridiculous.
"Take these, Harry." Rove handed Harry two identical rolls of cotton. "That is the entrance to the 'Paths of the Dead.' The living inhaling too much death energy will damage their souls. These are anti-corpse-poison filters I specially made in Herbology—sage soaked in vinegar."
"I'm not stuffing that up my nose!" Harry pushed them away with a look of disgust. "They look like slugs!"
"Suit yourselves," Rove shrugged, stuffing the cotton deeper into his nostrils. "Don't blame me for not warning you. The air there... is not fit for breathing."
It turned out Rove was right.
As they walked down the stone steps into the dungeon, the temperature dropped drastically. Harry felt as though he had walked into a giant freezer. Hundreds of translucent ghosts drifted about in the dimly lit room.
> [Warning: High Concentration of Necrotic Energy Detected]
> [Current Area: Paths of the Dead]
> [Environmental Judgment: Extreme Cold / Corpse Miasma]
> [Mission Objective: Survive the Council of the Dead and protect the Ring-bearer from necrotic erosion]
Rove narrowed his eyes, observing his surroundings.
In his eyes, the walls originally draped with black velvet transformed into rock faces flowing with green fluorescence; the floating ghosts were no longer Hogwarts alumni, but a horde of "Oathbreakers" in tattered armor with twisted faces. They lingered in the crack between the living world and the shadow, awaiting some form of redemption or judgment.
"Incredible," Hermione shivered beside him, her breath turning into white mist. "This... this is amazing."
"Stay calm, Elven Princess." Rove lowered his voice, hand resting on the wand at his waist. "Do not look directly into their eyes. The dead crave the warmth of the living."
Nick drifted over, wearing a doublet with a ruff, looking melancholy and dignified.
"My dear friends,"
"Welcome, welcome... to see living faces on the day of my death is truly comforting."
"It is our honor, Sir Nicholas."
Before Harry could speak, Rove stepped forward, pressed his right fist heavily against his left chest, and bowed deeply—a standard Gondorian salute to fallen soldiers.
"May your soul find peace beyond the stars,"
"We bring the respect of the living, not disturbance."
Nick paused, evidently never having seen such etiquette, but a flattered expression immediately appeared on his translucent face.
"Oh... how... how proper!" Nick was so excited the skin on his neck nearly snapped. "Look, this is Hufflepuff breeding! Thank you, Mr. Baggins. Please, help yourselves to the... er, buffet."
He pointed to a long table at the other end of the room.
Harry and Ron walked over hopefully, but even though they were mentally prepared, the sight nearly made them vomit.
The long table was laden with moldy, furry cakes, a large haggis crawling with maggots—this wasn't just spoiled; it was a biological weapon! Ron covered his nose, his face turning green: "I want to go back to the Great Hall... I want pudding..."
"Stop complaining, Sam," Rove looked calmly at a platter of rotting fish, evaluating it coolly. "For the undead, only the scent of extreme decay can penetrate the barrier of life and death to be perceived by them. These are rations for the dead, not for us."
Just then, a shrill wail pierced through the music of the musical saw.
"I knew it! You're all laughing at me!"
Moaning Myrtle rushed out from under the table, sending a plate of moldy peanuts flying everywhere. Peeves was following her, grinning maliciously as he pelted her with moldy peanuts.
"Watch out! Projectile attack!"
Rove reacted with lightning speed, instantly grabbing a silver platter from the table and blocking in front of Hermione like a shield. Several moldy peanuts hit the platter with crisp clangs.
> [Block Successful! Physical Defense +1]
Myrtle stopped in mid-air, looking at Rove with a tear-streaked face. She had been ready to explode, but seeing Rove's battle-ready stance and the platter used as a shield, she froze.
"What... what are you doing?" Myrtle sobbed.
Rove lowered the platter, staring solemnly at the famous crybaby. Under the System filter, she wasn't a chubby girl ghost with glasses, but a Banshee bound by painful memories, shrouded in a black mist of curses.
"I am defending, my Lady." Rove said seriously. "Also, may I ask a question?"
Myrtle floated a bit higher vigilantly: "What do you want to ask? How I died? I knew it, that's all you care about!"
"No," Rove shook his head. "I want to ask, in the moment you faced death... what did you see? Was it a pair of yellow eyes? Or endless darkness?"
This was the intel Rove had wanted to confirm. If it was a Basilisk, Myrtle, as a direct victim, should have an impression even if she hadn't seen the whole thing.
Myrtle was stunned. Usually, people only mocked her or avoided her for being too sensitive. No one had ever spoken to her in this tone... as if inquiring about war secrets.
"I... I only remember seeing a pair of huge, terrifyingly yellow eyes," Myrtle's voice grew quieter, her body trembling slightly. "That feeling... was like my soul was ripped away instantly."
> [Clue Update: Gaze of the Medusa / Curse of the Evil Eye]
> [Current Deduction: Lethal Gaze Attack]
Rove's pupils constricted sharply. As expected.
"Thank you for your intelligence, my Lady." Rove nodded solemnly. "Your sacrifice will not be in vain. We will find the murderer."
"Murderer?" Myrtle hadn't reacted yet.
Harry suddenly grabbed Rove's arm.
"Rove!" Harry was pale, eyes wide. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Hermione asked. "If you mean that saw music..."
"No! That voice!" Harry said urgently, his eyes becoming vacant as if listening to a whisper only he could hear. "That voice is back... Rip... kill... kill them all..."
> [Warning: Black Speech Fluctuation Detected]
> [Source: Unknown / Within the Walls]
> [Ring-bearer Status: Mental Erosion (Sanity -5)]
Rove instantly dropped the silver platter and gripped his wand handle in a reverse hold.
"It's moving!" Harry shouted, rushing toward the door heedless of everything. "It's going to kill someone!"
"Follow him!" Rove roared at the bewildered Ron and Hermione. "Don't let him be alone! He is being summoned!"
The three stumbled out of the freezing dungeon and back into the Entrance Hall. The Halloween feast in the Great Hall was still ongoing.
Harry didn't stop; he sprinted up the marble staircase as if pulled by an invisible thread.
"Harry! Wait!" Ron panted behind.
"Shh!" Harry stopped abruptly in the second-floor corridor, listening intently. "It went that way... it smells blood..."
Rove pressed against the wall, breathing heavily. He heard nothing, but in his System vision, he saw a hair-raising scene.
In the shadows where the dim torchlight couldn't reach, eerie traces glowing with faint red light appeared on the walls. Those were not ordinary traces...
> [High-Risk Creature Trail Detected]
> [Type: Giant Reptile / Ancient Myriapod]
> [Warning: Predator is nearby]
"This way." Harry turned a corner.
Rove drew his wand, his left hand pulling a handful of lime powder from his robe pocket.
"Hermione, Ron, back-to-back!" Rove ordered in a low voice. "Protect Harry. No matter what you see, do not look at its eyes! Use a mirror to reflect!"
"What mirror? What are you talking about?" Ron was terrified.
Just then, they rounded a bend.
On the wall ahead, a row of torches flickered in the draft. Between two windows, on the rough stone wall, the writing that had appeared last week remained—this was where Mrs. Norris had been attacked.
But the difference was, the writing that had faded was now oozing fresh blood, and below it, a new line of bloody text had appeared.
"Here again..." Hermione covered her mouth. "Just like before..."
"No, it's different." Rove stepped forward. In his System vision, the new writing was burning.
"Last week's message was just a warning," Rove's voice was cold. "This one is a formal declaration of war."
In Rove's System vision, the new blood-red text twisted into a line of Mordor inscription emitting black smoke:
> [THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.]
> [OFFER SACRIFICES TO THE DARKNESS THAT CANNOT BE NAMED.]