The vow made in the Hufflepuff common room did not dissipate with the extinguishing of the fireplace embers. Instead, like a seed, it took root and sprouted in Rove's heart.
For the next half-month, Rove faithfully fulfilled his promise—or rather, he expanded upon it. Not only did he constantly monitor Susan's safety (resulting in Susan being "escorted" by him even when going to the greenhouse recently), but he also listed Harry as a key protection target. After all, in Rove's judgment, as the "Ring-bearer," Harry could be targeted again by the Eye of Sauron lurking in the shadows at any moment.
The days rolled into November.
At the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sighing, discussing how to avoid Filch's surveillance. Ever since the cat was petrified, Filch had acted like a madman, wishing he could lock any student who breathed too loudly in the dungeons.
"He's staring at me again," Harry whispered, pretending to cut the roasted potato on his plate. "Just behind the door."
"Relax, Harry."
A familiar voice sounded as Rove naturally sat down next to Harry with his tray. This had become the norm recently, dubbed "Close Protection Detail."
Rove scanned the Great Hall before lowering his voice: "That is his awe of the strong. In Middle-earth, only the most powerful wizards make commoners feel fear. Filch is merely afraid of the... power inside you."
Harry gave a bitter smile. "I think he just wants an excuse to expel me."
Just then, a chill pierced through the long table, and the previously warm air suddenly dropped several degrees.
Nearly Headless Nick rose up through the floor, passing right through the chicken leg Ron had just picked up. The leg instantly frosted over.
"Oh, Nick!" Ron complained, discarding the chicken leg with disgust. "Now I have to get another one."
"Apologies, dear Ron." Nick waved his hand in a good mood; his ruff looked particularly stiff today. He turned to Harry and Rove, a reserved yet expectant smile on his face. "I was just looking for you. This Halloween is my five-hundredth Deathday."
"Five hundred?" Harry was surprised. "That's really... quite an age."
"Yes, five hundred." Nick puffed out his chest. "I will be hosting a party in one of the roomier dungeons. If you wouldn't mind, I would like to invite you to attend."
Harry and Ron exchanged a look, terror in both their eyes.
Attending a party for a bunch of ghosts?! That would definitely be worse than Lockhart's class.
"Er, Nick, we might..." Harry began to make an excuse, like having to help Lockhart reply to fan mail that night (though that was also a nightmare, at least it was a nightmare among the living).
"We would be honored, Sir Nicholas."
A solemn, formal response interrupted Harry.
Rove put down his knife and fork, stood up, and performed a standard salute, hand over heart. His gaze was as fervent as a Minas Tirith guard learning that Gondor's reinforcements were arriving imminently.
> [Mission Triggered: Gathering of the Dead]
> [Objective: Attend the Deathday Party, Contact Undead Faction]
> [Intel Analysis: Ghosts have wandered the castle for centuries; they are the best scouts. Perhaps we can learn the truth of the "Ancient Evil" from them. Even... like Aragorn, forge some kind of pact with them.]
"Really?" Nick looked at Rove in pleasant surprise, clearly not expecting a living person to agree so readily. "That is wonderful! I thought you would find it... well, boring."
"How could it be boring?" Rove said righteously. "This is a historic meeting. The living and the dead gathered together to exchange views on eternity and glory. This is a romance only the wise can understand."
Harry and Ron's jaws dropped. Although they were used to Rove's oddities, they had clearly underestimated him.
"Since Rove is going..." Harry sighed helplessly; he really couldn't bring himself to refuse Nick when Rove was being so "supportive." "Then we'll go too."
"Excellent!" Nick was so happy his head nearly fell off his neck. "I will send you invitations! It will definitely be an unforgettable night!"
With that, he drifted away, humming a tune.
"Are you crazy?" As soon as Nick was far enough away, Ron shouted. "That's a Deathday Party! Do you know what will be there? Moldy food! Freezing air! And hundreds of dead people!"
"And it's on Halloween night," Hermione closed her book and added. "We'll miss the school feast. I heard there are special Bat Lollipops this year."
Rove sat back down. "This is more than just a party, Ron."
"Haven't you noticed? The darkness in the castle is reviving. The spiders are fleeing, Mrs. Norris was petrified... we need intel."
"And who knows the castle's secrets best?" Rove pointed in the direction Nick had vanished. "Those ubiquitous ghosts who pass through walls. They see things we cannot. This party is a reconnaissance mission."
Hermione paused, nodding thoughtfully. "Although it still sounds crazy... logically, it makes sense. Ghosts might indeed know something."
"If..." Rove changed the subject, a look of longing appearing on his face. "If we're lucky, maybe we can even meet the leader of the legendary 'Army of the Dead.' If we can get their help, the odds against Sauron will be much better."
"Rove," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're just going to eat rotten sandwiches, not fight a war."
Rove didn't argue, just smiled faintly.
"Prepare your dress robes, everyone." Rove picked up a pumpkin pasty. "This will be an unforgettable diplomatic event."
Over the next few days, the rain fell even harder.
Rove did not relax his vigilance due to the upcoming "diplomatic event." On the contrary, every morning he would don his yellow cloak and conduct high-intensity physical training in the muddy grounds outside the castle.
"What is he doing?"
Looking from the Gryffindor Tower window, Ron watched Rove sprinting in the rain, occasionally waving his wand at the air, puzzled.
"He's adapting to the environment." Harry wiped his glasses, his tone complex. "He says if one day we are forced to march through swamps, every drop of sweat now could save a life."
"He really is a... weirdo." Ron shook his head, but for some reason, watching that figure persisting in the rain, the fear in his heart seemed to fade a little.
Deep in the castle's shadows, the lines of fleeing spiders grew longer. Every time Rove passed by, he would stop and stare at the panicked little creatures.
> [Animal Instinct: Fleeing Natural Predator]
> [Countdown: ???]