Noticing Harry's gaze, Veratia playfully waved at him, then bumped her pumpkin lantern head against Cassandra, causing Cassandra's head to tilt to one side.
Harry shook his head helplessly. He truly hadn't expected these two girls to get along so well. He had no idea what kind of secret agreement they'd reached.
A short while later, the students gradually filled the Great Hall. At Professor Dumbledore's loud announcement, the long tables before them were suddenly laden with a dazzling array of sumptuous dishes.
"I'd bet anything," Draco said, turning to nudge Harry, "Harry, I'd bet Dumbledore's definitely a giver!"
"No need to point that out, Malfoy," Ron said, wrinkling his nose. "I figured that out back in first year!"
"You actually figured it out?" Draco frowned.
"Of course," Ron declared proudly, though no one was quite sure what he was proud of. "Ask Harry if you don't believe me. I told him ages ago."
"Fine, I'll grant you have a sharp eye," Draco conceded.
Draco never missed a chance to take a jab at Dumbledore, and under that grand premise, he was even willing to admit a Weasley had keen insight.
The Halloween feast was lavish, far beyond anyone's expectations. Instead of the anticipated steamed pumpkin, boiled pumpkin, fried pumpkin, or pumpkin soup, pumpkins were used as containers, holding an assortment of delicacies.
It seemed Dumbledore had put the house-elves to work on this as well. The meal wasn't the usual monotonous British fare; it even included French and Eastern European flavors.
This was evident in the goulash served with sour cream.
Goulash, Hungary's "national dish," was essentially a stew of beef, potatoes, carrots, or onions, simmered in a clay pot until tender, then sprinkled with a pinch of spices. Typically, it was paired with a dollop of sour cream.
Harry loved the taste of beef with sour cream—slightly spicy, tangy, with a faint creamy aroma. It was absolutely delicious.
Veratia clearly hadn't expected to find a taste of her homeland in Hogwarts' kitchen. She even took off her pumpkin lantern headpiece.
Only for Cassandra to promptly plop it back on her head.
"No eating," Cassandra said curtly.
"Fine, I won't eat," Veratia replied, crossing her arms and sitting still, apparently determined not to remove the headpiece to eat anything.
At the staff table, the "two Snapes" were similarly motionless. Both sat there, glowering at the food in front of them, neither touching their cutlery.
Snape himself had lost his appetite, thoroughly disgusted by Sirius.
As for Sirius, his mind was consumed with the image of his godson wearing a Slytherin uniform. Right now, all he wanted was to find the fabled Resurrection Stone and summon James to apologize profusely.
Merlin's beard, I've let you down!
Lupin, on the other hand, was far more relaxed. So what if Harry wore a Slytherin uniform? It wasn't a big deal.
To him, as long as Harry was happy, that was what mattered most.
"No, it's a matter of principle!" Sirius had insisted to Lupin during the feast.
Lupin merely shrugged casually, saying nothing.
After the feast came the exciting voting segment.
The Weasley twins' two-headed troll costume won first place by a landslide. Unless someone was voting for a friend, everyone cast their vote for the twins.
To prevent biased voting for friends, Dumbledore gave each person five votes, allowing them to support their friends while also voting for their true favorites.
The strategy worked. The twins secured the overwhelming majority of votes.
Coming in second was Sirius Black, who had dressed up as Professor Snape.
To protect students who feared Snape's retribution and wished to remain anonymous, Dumbledore announced an anonymous voting system. This meant Snape couldn't exact revenge even if he wanted to.
This result lifted Sirius's spirits slightly.
He stood, bowed to the crowd, and even sang a silly song the Weasley twins had made up—the one with lyrics by Ginny.
Predictably, this stunt made Snape deduct points even more ruthlessly.
The next morning, Gryffindor lost twenty points because students were caught whispering about Snape.
"He's gone mad," Lavender Brown said to her classmates, still shaken. "Did you see him? He's like a bat pickled in salt."
Of course, this was said in the dormitory. Everyone knew Snape had a habit of lurking like a ghost. Whispering about him outside would surely lead to him materializing behind you and docking points.
No one quite understood what a "bat pickled in salt" meant, but when Lavender told them to picture Snape standing at the podium, the image clicked instantly.
At noon that day, Snape and Sirius crossed paths in the Great Hall, and a single "Snivellus" prompted both to draw their wands.
"You want a duel?" Sirius said, brandishing his wand. "Bring it on, Snivellus. I'm not afraid of you in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and when it comes to Transfiguration, I'm leagues ahead!"
Fortunately, Professor McGonagall was quick to act, grabbing Snape and sharply reprimanding Sirius, preventing a full-blown staff brawl in the Great Hall.
"Severus, let it go!" she urged, alongside Professor Dumbledore, calming Snape down and averting disaster.
As expected, Snape, having been provoked by Sirius, would take out his frustrations elsewhere.
The Gryffindors didn't mind too much. After all, Snape would deduct points whether he was angry or not, so they might as well get a laugh out of his fury.
Taking advantage of the moment before summoning the Grim, Harry visited Professor Lupin.
Lupin looked in good spirits today, not as sickly as he had been the past few days.
Harry didn't think Lupin had been away on a trip; he suspected it was due to illness. But he wouldn't pry into a professor's secrets—everyone had their own, after all.
"It's Harry," Lupin greeted warmly, motioning for him to sit. He pulled a chocolate frog from a nearby drawer and handed it to him. "Here, have some chocolate. It's cold out; you need something to keep warm."
Harry didn't refuse. He thanked Lupin, unwrapped the chocolate frog, and bit off its head.
It wasn't a real Chocolate Frog, just a high-quality frog-shaped chocolate, but it tasted far better. Harry could feel a warm current spreading through his limbs, as if the chocolate had some special effect.
"So," Lupin said, watching Harry eat the chocolate, "what brings you here, Harry?"
"Well, Professor," Harry said after a moment's pause, "I… I know you were good friends with my dad, so I thought I'd ask you about him."
Lupin didn't respond immediately. He waved a hand, and a tea set floated over. Pouring Harry a cup of hot tea, he said, "You're right. When we were at Hogwarts, we were good friends—as you know, we had a little group called the Marauders. Sounds a bit rebellious, doesn't it? But Sirius and James loved the name, so it stuck as our group's nickname."
"Doesn't sound that great," Harry said with a hesitant nod, then added, "I—I remember seeing something in my mum's memories, by the Black Lake. My dad had Snape hung upside down, and my mum went to help him, but then Snape called her a filthy little—"
"Oh, you're talking about that incident…" Lupin's eyes glimmered with reminiscence. "That was our fifth year, right after our O.W.L.s—the Ordinary Wizarding Level exams. So, what's your question about it?"
"Snape said my dad was arrogant, conceited, and a pathetic bully who picked on the weak," Harry said, spreading his hands. "I didn't want to believe it, but after seeing my mum's memory, I… I started to wonder. But I also think it's not wise to take Snape's word alone, so I wanted to ask you and Sirius what you, his friends, thought of my dad."
"I see…" Lupin's gaze softened. He shook his head and smiled at Harry. "Just as I expected, you're more like your mum than your dad. Sirius, though, isn't thrilled about that. He thinks you should be a second James."
"But if I were, Professor McGonagall wouldn't be too happy," Harry said with a grin.
"Not necessarily," Lupin chuckled. "McGonagall might act like she couldn't stand your dad, but he was actually one of her favorite students."
Harry thought to himself, Good thing my dad wasn't Dumbledore's favorite, or he might've ended up on the wrong end of Gellert Grindelwald's wand.
"Harry," Lupin said, hesitating as if weighing his words.
He could see Harry had doubts about his father's character. As James's friend, Lupin felt compelled to set the record straight for his son.
Sure, James could be a bit of a prat at times, but he wasn't without merit—his good qualities shone just as brightly as his flaws, if not more so.
Most importantly, James had changed. He'd not only turned over a new leaf but died a hero, fighting against Voldemort.
Noticing Lupin's hesitation, Harry asked with concern, "Is something wrong, Professor?"
"It's nothing," Lupin said with a sigh. "I just want you to know that most people aren't black-and-white. You can't always sum them up as simply good or bad."
"I know that. Thank you, Professor," Harry said, nodding.
"I know you have some misconceptions about your father," Lupin said softly. "But you need to understand that he changed, and he gave his life fighting Voldemort."
Before Harry could respond, Lupin continued, "Of course, I'd rather you see it for yourself."
He stood and walked to a Pensieve nearby, drawing a silvery strand of memory from his temple and letting it dissolve into the basin.
"This is a piece of your father's memory," Lupin said with a wistful sigh. "But before we go there, there's… something I need to tell you."
"Go ahead, Professor," Harry said, nodding.
Lupin frowned, pacing back and forth a couple of times.
Should he tell Harry? he wondered.
But the desire to clear his old friend's name won out. Even if it meant revealing his own secret, what did it matter?
Harry watched as Lupin's expression shifted from hesitation to conflict, then anxiety, and finally calm.
He knew Lupin had made a difficult decision.
"There's no point hiding it, Harry," Lupin said with a sigh. "As you've noticed, I disappear for a few days each month and need someone to cover my classes…"
Harry had already suspected something, but seeing Lupin's serious and nervous expression, he decided to lighten the mood.
"So, you're actually a woman?" he said, feigning shock.
Lupin froze, then burst into relieved laughter.
"Alright, Harry," Lupin said, pointing at him with a grin. "If this were a classroom, I'd dock Gryffindor points for your lack of perceptiveness."
"But we're not in a classroom, are we?" Harry shot back, grinning.
Lupin hummed in agreement. "Fair enough. I'll say it then—as you've probably guessed, I'm a werewolf."
"Oh," Harry said calmly, nodding. "A werewolf. That's no big deal."
"You don't think… a werewolf…" Lupin hesitated, a flicker of light in his eyes.
"More importantly," Harry said, waving it off, "you're my dad's friend—one of his best friends. Besides, it's just a furry little problem, isn't it?"
The sun emerged from the clouds outside, its light streaming through the window and falling on Harry's face.
The boy, unaccustomed to the sudden brightness, raised a hand to shield his eyes.
In that moment, Lupin saw, through the ray of sunlight, the first light that had ever warmed his heart.
"Harry…"
Lupin smiled.
"What's wrong, Professor?" Harry asked, still shielding his face.
"Nothing," Lupin said, smiling warmly. "Thank you for your trust, Harry."
"It's nothing, Professor," Harry said with a toothy grin. "You're not just my dad's friend—you're also our best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Lupin clapped Harry's shoulder firmly. After a moment, he said, "Go on, take a look at my memory of James."
"Alright, Professor."
Harry walked to the Pensieve, took a deep breath, and plunged his head into it.
After a dizzying whirl, Harry found himself in the Gryffindor dormitory.
It was the same room he shared with Ron and the others, but the era and occupants were different. Harry saw his dad lounging on a bed, legs crossed, looking utterly carefree.
James appeared young—probably a second-year, not much different from Harry now.
In fact, James and Harry were almost identical, carved from the same mold, save for their eye color and the lightning-shaped scar. They had the same messy hair, the same glasses, the same features.
"James, mate?" came a young, clear voice.
A black-haired boy strode in, exuding elegance and charm. Despite his youthful face, it was clear this kid would grow up to be strikingly handsome.
It was a second-year Sirius Black.
At this point, it seemed they hadn't yet formed the Marauders or earned their nicknames.
"Sirius?" James barely lifted his head, responding lazily.
"Hey, mate, no need to mope like that," Sirius said, plopping down beside James and patting his chest with a grin. "So what if Evans turned down your invite to hang out? No need to sulk—listen, I've stumbled onto something unusual."
"Unusual?" James didn't seem intrigued by Sirius's exaggerated tone. He rolled over, turning his back to Sirius, muttering, "Ugh, nothing's worth my interest. Well—unless you're up for helping me deal with that Slytherin Snivellus, that'd be great."
"No, this is about one of our good friends!" Sirius said mysteriously. "Lupin—our dorm mate. Don't you want to hear about his little secret?"
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