Chapter 319 — Ghost Dinner
"You may all be wondering," Dumbledore began, eyes twinkling, "why we are holding a grand dinner the day after school starts."
"Just a moment ago, from the stage, I heard quite a few… fascinating theories. Some believe we are giving Harry Potter a Special Services to the School Award. Others think this is a celebration for our new Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones. One rumor even claimed I had exiled all the ghosts."
He paused.
"Unfortunately, every single one of you is wrong."
He winked mischievously.
Students all across the Great Hall booed good-naturedly.
At the Gryffindor table — where the noise was loudest — something truly astonishing stood out:
the one leading the cheers and jeers was Percy Weasley.
Not Fred.
Not George.
Percy.
The formerly rigid, rule-bound prefect — once disliked even by his own house — now stood confidently among the students, fully embraced, not because of grades or ambition, but because he finally seemed like one of them.
"It doesn't mean your guesses weren't clever," Dumbledore continued lightly. "But the actual reason… only I know."
"Even the professors up here were just as convinced as you."
"Take Professor Flitwick — who leapt up in my office earlier and shook my hand, thanking me for giving Harry the Special Contribution Award."
Tiny Professor Flitwick turned pink and quickly sipped his sherry as though he hadn't heard a word.
Around him sat Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Snape — all desperately trying to suppress smiles.
McGonagall hid it best, lips pursed tightly… but the faint crow's-feet at her eyes betrayed her amusement.
They were smiling far too early.
"And Professor McGonagall — yes, I mean you, Minerva — along with Professor Snape and Professor Sprout, all hinted that if I were to give Harry such an award, I should make sure not to award house points with it."
The smiles vanished instantly.
"Although they guessed wrong this time," Dumbledore went on, "Harry Potter does, indeed, deserve recognition."
The Hall erupted.
The loudest cheers came from Ravenclaw, of course.
Gryffindor followed.
Slytherin, predictably, was the quietest — though thanks to Draco Malfoy's surprisingly powerful soprano-level cheering, their volume wasn't far behind.
After the shouting subsided, a thick silence fell over the room.
Every eye — even those of the professors who had been teased — turned toward Dumbledore, who stood like a master storyteller savoring his moment.
"There is no Special Contribution Award," he said at last.
"However—"
The students froze.
"Harry will receive additional house points. Twenty points to Ravenclaw!"
A mix of groans and cheers shook the hall.
"My apologies to Severus, Minerva, Pomona… and Filius," Dumbledore added. "Truly unfortunate — no special award this time."
"Although, considering Harry's extraordinary contribution, he deserves a hundred Special Contribution Awards. And another hundred points."
"But Harry has already received the greatest reward of all — the true ownership of the Ravenclaw Diadem."
The Great Hall exploded again, louder than before.
Dumbledore raised his hands.
"Calm yourselves. This is not a matter of favoritism, nor am I handing Hogwarts artifacts to students on a whim."
"Many of you may not know this, but Ravenclaw has no living descendants. The rightful owner of the Diadem — the only one with legal claim to it — is Lady Grey, daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw."
"Those in Ravenclaw house will know she intended to give the Diadem to Harry. With Harry's help, the Diadem finally saw daylight again. It seems Lady Grey believes he deserves it."
"And tonight's dinner is related to what occurred in the Ravenclaw common room this morning."
A murmur spread across the Great Hall.
"It may also have something to do with the ghostly form of the crown that Lady Grey wears."
Dumbledore slipped effortlessly into his favorite role — the riddler — and the older students were already used to it.
Only the wide-eyed first-years looked around nervously, unsure if they should whisper or stay silent.
"But —" Dumbledore continued, "the crown involved is the ghostly crown atop Lady Grey's head. And with her assistance, and a little magical research of my own, I have mastered a spell."
He paused deliberately.
Because what came next would send the hall into chaos.
Several professors already inhaled sharply; a few older students sat bolt upright, eyes widening as meaning dawned.
Before Dumbledore could continue—
"Does this mean ghosts can use wands again?"
"Can they eat?"
"Can they… um… relieve themselves?"
"Can I court Lady Grey?!"
"When I die, can I become a ghost?"
The Great Hall erupted.
Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly.
"Ahem. All fascinating questions."
"But Ravenclaw's magic is extremely difficult — even for me. I can only ghostify non-magical, inanimate objects… and only temporarily."
"I can ghostify food."
"So — yes — you've guessed it."
"Tonight is a joint ghost-and-human dinner!"
He waved his wand, then seated himself.
Instantly, golden plates filled with steaming dishes.
Beside the floating candles, translucent ghost tables — pearly-white and floating in midair — materialized, bearing shimmering ghost-food.
One by one, Hogwarts ghosts drifted through the walls and glided toward their tables, glowing with delight.
"Sir Nicholas, please be careful," the Fat Friar warned kindly.
Too late.
Nearly Headless Nick took a large bite of ghostly steak — and the piece promptly fell out of the half-severed gap in his neck and drifted through Seamus Finnigan's torso.
"Merlin's pants, what was that?" Seamus shivered, continuing to shovel food into his mouth.
"It's just food, lad," Nick said proudly. "Marvelous spellwork! It passed through the floor earlier too — no idea where it ended up."
He leaned down, poking his head through the ground near Seamus's shoes.
Nick was the only ghost lively enough to wander.
Everyone else — even the dignified ghosts — abandoned centuries of restraint.
They feasted greedily, laughing and glowing with ethereal joy.
Even the Bloody Baron — normally the darkest, most brooding spirit in Hogwarts — hovered above the Slytherin table, sipping a mysterious spectral wine as though attending a private party.
(End of Chapter 319)
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