Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 72: Hallows’ Eve Chaos (I) (CH - 92)

The Great Hall was a sight to behold, decorated for the Halloween feast with an eerie yet exciting charm. Hundreds of floating pumpkins drifted overhead, their carved faces glowing softly with candlelight. Bats flapped their wings as they swooped through the air, while the enchanted ceiling reflected the dark, cloudy sky outside.

The long tables were filled with golden plates stacked high with food—roast meats, buttery potatoes, thick slices of pumpkin pie, and jugs of warm, spiced cider. The delicious smells filled the hall, mixing with the lively chatter and bursts of laughter from students enjoying the evening.

The excitement was contagious. First-years sat wide-eyed, taking in the spectacle of their first Hogwarts Halloween, while the older students, though used to the tradition, were just as eager to enjoy the night. Conversations flowed from one table to another—some about the food, others about the upcoming Quidditch tournament set to begin next week.

The staff table was just as lively, with the professors looking relaxed as they enjoyed their meal and the cheerful atmosphere. On one side, Flitwick chatted happily with Septima, chuckling over something between them, while on the other, Hagrid enthusiastically told a story to Professor Sprout, his massive hands gesturing wildly as he spoke.

Even Snape seemed less irritable than usual, though he mostly kept to himself, occasionally casting sharp looks at the students who were getting a bit too rowdy.

Meanwhile, McGonagall, Steven, Hooch, and Maverick were deep in conversation, their voices low against the lively chatter around them, as they reviewed the final preparations for the upcoming weekend when Hogwarts would welcome the other schools for the Quidditch tournament.

It couldn’t be helped—after all, the four of them were the only ones truly overseeing the entire event, while the others, especially Dumbledore, were more like hands-off shopkeepers.

McGonagall, in particular, had the most on her plate. Between teaching all seven years, fulfilling her duties as Deputy Headmistress, and now overseeing such a large-scale event, her schedule had never been more packed. She rarely had time to meet with them, so tonight, with all of them gathered at the same table, she seized the opportunity to catch up on everything.

In the center of the table, Dumbledore’s attention gracefully shifted between the professors’ conversations, his ever-present smile lighting up the exchanges. He effortlessly engaged with everyone, weaving his charm into the lively chatter that filled the hall.

And being the ever-observant man he was, Dumbledore quickly noticed that four of his colleagues were speaking in quiet voices, much softer than the lively chatter around them. It seemed like they were discussing something serious and work-related, and to him, this wasn’t quite the time for it.

He considered interrupting. After all, this was a festive occasion, not a morning briefing.

So he leaned slightly toward their side and spoke just loud enough for the four of them to hear. "Surely, whatever business is keeping you so serious can wait until after the feast? It would be a shame not to enjoy such a splendid evening."

The Headmaster’s voice made the four of them pause and glance in his direction, where they saw, as always, his signature smile.

They exchanged a brief, knowing look before the most senior among them took the lead in acknowledging the situation. As adults, they didn’t need to be told twice and quickly realized they had become a bit too disconnected from the rest of the festive crowd.

"You’re right, Albus," McGonagall said with a small sigh, nodding. "Let’s not spoil the evening."

"Not at all, Minerva. I’m sure it was important," the wise wizard said warmly, effortlessly clearing any tension. He then glanced at the others before settling his gaze on Steven. "Mr. Steven, how is school life treating you so far?"

Steven straightened in his seat, glancing down at his plate for a moment before looking back up at Dumbledore. "It’s been an adjustment, but overall, it’s been great. The students are incredible, and the staff is, well, just as great."

The old wizard’s eyes twinkled as he leaned forward slightly, his smile widening. "And the team?" he asked. "I trust they are ready for the challenge?"

"Oh, absolutely," Steven replied confidently, and glanced over at the others.

Dumbledore chuckled lightly, his eyes twinkling as he looked around at the four of them. "I know you’ve all been working tirelessly, and I can’t thank you enough. Truly. I have every confidence you’ll bring out the best in the students."

McGonagall smiled warmly with pride. "The players’ teamwork has exceeded my expectations," she said, glancing toward her precious students. "I must admit, the school hasn’t felt this united in... well, as far back as I can remember."

The lighthearted conversations continued, with everyone now caught up in the liveliness of the evening, contributing their laughter and chatter to the festive air.

Time passed slowly, minute by minute. Maverick enjoyed the jolly atmosphere just like everyone else, but every so often, his eyes would dart over to the Gryffindor table. This was Halloween, after all—always a time of trouble in this castle—and he hadn’t forgotten what was to happen tonight.

He watched Harry and Ron happily enjoying their treacle tart and pumpkin pasties, completely unaware that their actions earlier in the morning had upset the third member of their soon-to-be trio.

The little know-it-all, as brilliant as she was, was still only eleven years old, and it hadn’t taken much to break her heart.

Maverick scanned the rows of the four long tables a couple of times, just to be sure, and true to his guess, Granger was nowhere to be seen—probably the only person missing from the feast.

And then, without warning, the doors to the Great Hall swung open with a loud thud, startling everyone—except, of course, himself.

Heads turned, and the lively chatter of the hall died down almost instantly. He watched Professor Quirrell as he rushed in, his face pale and eyes wide with panic, clearly consumed by frantic urgency. His usual stammering was absent, replaced by a frantic, almost practiced sense of haste. Quirrell stumbled toward the staff table, nearly tripping over his robes as he made his way through the hall, his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps.

Finally, he reached the staff table, leaning heavily against it as though the weight of the world was pressing on his shoulders. He gasped for breath, his words coming in frantic bursts. "Trolls—in the basement! I—I thought... you should know—" Then, without warning, his head tilted to one side, and crumpled to the floor, face first with a loud thud, unconscious.

Tsk, tsk. Old Voldy is so merciless... Maverick thought, observing the dramatic fall. Quirrell’s nose was probably broken from that impact.

Maverick couldn’t help but mentally applaud the man’s acting, rating a solid 10 for that performance. The whole Great Hall was fooled—except for him and, likely, the old man sitting not far from him.

The room was silent for a moment as the realization sank in. The young wizards and witches at the tables sat frozen, staring at the unconscious form of Quirrell. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, panic erupted. Some students scrambled to their feet, rushing toward the doors, while others whispered frantically among their groups.

The younger ones, unable to comprehend the situation, broke into screams that echoed through the hall. Chaos spread like wildfire, and the once festive atmosphere turned into a disordered frenzy.

And then—

"Saaaailenceee—"

Dumbledore stood up, his magically amplified voice slicing through the chaos like a blade. The entire hall froze, his commanding tone ringing sharply in every ear. Students immediately stopped their panicked movements, a few stumbling back into their seats in shock. With a single word, the Headmaster’s authority brought order back to the Great Hall.

...

Meanwhile, Maverick caught onto something in Quirrell’s frantic words before he collapsed. His eyes narrowed as he turned sharply to McGonagall beside him. "He said trolls, didn’t he? Plural?"

Before McGonagall could respond, both of them felt a majestic wave of magic ripple past them, emanating from Dumbledore. As Great-Magus, they recognized the Headmaster extending his Magical Sense to scan the entirety of Hogwarts.

Not one to hesitate, Maverick unleashed his own magic, disregarding the questions that might come later. McGonagall, while perfectly capable, lacked the same precision in controlling pure magic. She could, of course, use Magical-Sense, but navigating a maze-like castle such as Hogwarts would take her time—time they did not have. It was better to let those with sharper control locate the threats and advise accordingly.

It didn’t take long for Maverick to lock onto the targets. His brows furrowed as he sensed two... no, three massive creatures lumbering aimlessly in the basement near the girls’ bathroom, as well as, a single student. And one of the trolls was nearing dangerously close to the bathroom entrance.

Maverick and Dumbledore snapped out of their focused states at the same time, and their eyes met, followed by a nod of mutual understanding.

"I’ll go," Maverick said firmly.

Dumbledore nodded and turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, you go as well."

He turned again, his gaze shifting between Snape and Flitwick before settling on the latter. "Filius, you’ll follow. Severus, you’ll come with me... There are three trolls, and I suspect one of them may be an Ogre. They’re all in the castle dungeons, near the girls’ bathroom..."

While Dumbledore was issuing instructions to the other professors, Maverick was already in motion. In one fluid motion, he placed a hand on the staff table and vaulted over to the other side. With another powerful leap into the air, he launched himself forward. A resounding boom echoed through the hall as he shot over the astonished students’ heads, disappearing into the corridor like a bolt of lightning.

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McGonagall and Flitwick were not far behind. With practiced precision, both conjured magical constructs beneath their feet, elevating themselves above the students. Though they weren’t exactly flying like Maverick, their speed was still impressive to the young wizards, who watched in awe as the two professors swiftly disappeared into the corridors.

"Prefects of each grade, please escort the students of your house back to their dormitories in an orderly and calm manner," Dumbledore’s magically amplified voice resonated through the hall, drawing the students’ attention back to the staff table. "Do not panic, and trust that your professors will handle this situation!"

He continued, addressing the remaining staff. "Hooch, Hagrid, Argus, Steven, and Septima, you will remain here with the students of each house." His gaze then shifted to the others. "Severus, Poppy, follow me to the dungeons. Unfortunately, the Halloween feast must end here."

No one voiced any objections. Under Dumbledore’s clear directives, the prefects began organizing their housemates, leading them in an orderly fashion out of the Great Hall, accompanied by their assigned professors.

Dumbledore himself acted last, ensuring everything was in order before taking his turn. His primary responsibility was the safety of everyone within the castle, and in just a short span of moments, he had set everything into motion.

With a graceful wave of his wand, he conjured a construct beneath his feet. Then, alongside Snape and Pomfrey, he rose into the air and surged toward the dungeons, following the others who had gone ahead.

The once-lively Great Hall, now subdued and tense, emptied swiftly as students were ushered away, and the staff moved with purpose to handle the looming threat.

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Author’s Note:

Just a quick update — up to Chapter 125 is already available on P AT r30n!

PAT r30n [.] com / RyanFic