Chapter 279 : Shocking Halloween Dinner
With the Black family now aligned with the Order of the Phoenix, their resources greatly enhanced the Order's operations, making it more efficient and better prepared to counter the Death Eaters.
Of course, once the war against Voldemort ended, any exposed Black family safehouses would be abandoned.
Phineas' careful planning over the past decade had allowed the Black network to extend across Britain. Although a major restructuring would be necessary afterward, it wouldn't cost the family much in the long run.
While Phineas and Dumbledore had agreed on this course of action, it still took over a month to put everything into motion.
The weather in October grew damp and chilly, and colds began spreading rapidly among both professors and students.
The widespread illness greatly increased Madam Pomfrey's workload, leaving her visibly exhausted.
Fortunately, the medicine she brewed was remarkably effective. Within a few hours of drinking it, wisps of smoke would begin streaming from one's ears—a strange but reliable sign that the cure had worked.
Of the girls close to Phineas, all except Luna had fallen ill.
Under Percy's persistence, Ginny drank Madam Pomfrey's potion. The result? Wisps of smoke puffed from beneath her fiery red hair all afternoon, making her look like her head was smoldering.
Astoria, on the other hand, stubbornly refused to visit the hospital wing, even after Hermione urged her to go. She simply glanced at Phineas with a slightly flushed expression and said nothing.
Naturally, Phineas understood but said nothing in return.
Astoria's condition wasn't surprising. Having been tormented by the blood curse for a decade, her body, though healed by phoenix flame, was still delicate and more vulnerable to illness. She needed time to rebuild her strength. For her, regular remedies wouldn't work well anyway.
While Hermione continued to persuade Astoria, Phineas retreated to the Room of Requirement and used the potion lab inside his enchanted suitcase to brew a specialized tonic tailored for her.
The weather turned rainy. Heavy drops pounded the castle windows, echoing like distant drumbeats.
The Black Lake swelled with rainwater, and the flower beds grew muddy. Still, Hagrid's pumpkins, grown specially for Halloween, were as large as ever—massive as trellises (a framework, typically made of wood, metal, or bamboo, that supports climbing plants).
Due to Phineas's influence, Draco chose not to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team. However, this change didn't prevent events from unfolding much as they had in the original timeline. The Slytherin team still replaced all its members' brooms with the latest model, the Nimbus 2001. As before, tensions flared on the Quidditch pitch when Hermione was insulted with the slur "Mudblood," prompting a heated confrontation that quickly escalated into a brawl involving students from three different houses. The chaos was eventually brought under control by Professors McGonagall and Snape.
Pansy Parkinson, the ringleader, earned detention from Snape, and all three Houses lost points.
The incident deeply affected Harry and his friends. The Slytherin team, with their superior brooms, seemed to streak across the field like green-tinted comets.
Just like in canon, Harry was invited by Nearly Headless Nick to his 500th Deathday Party—on Halloween Eve.
Upon hearing this, Phineas prevented Hermione and Astoria from going.
"No, Leah, even if you go to Nick's party, you still have to drink these potions," Phineas said with a calm smile, though the words chilled Astoria.
"And let me remind you: you'll need to drink them for a full year. That was my oversight earlier, but now that I've realized it, you have no choice."
Astoria groaned and looked at him pleadingly.
"I really have to? I just want to go to the Deathday party…"
Phineas chuckled. "Trust me, Leah, I'm doing this for your own good. And Hermione, I suggest you don't go either. As for Harry and the others, they've already promised Nick."
Harry's face dropped. "Is it that bad?"
Phineas nodded. "Remember what I told you about ghosts?"
"I do."
"Then you know they can't touch or eat anything. Still, what's a dinner party without food? They rely on the smell—strong, pungent, rotten food so they can recall a sensation of eating."
Harry's face turned green. "You're joking."
"Not at all. Nick asked the house-elves days ago to prepare it. It'll be… memorable."
By then, Harry already regretted accepting the invitation, but he couldn't back out now.
Meanwhile, the rest of the school was eagerly preparing for the Halloween feast.
The Great Hall was spectacularly decorated: live bats swooped overhead, golden plates gleamed, and floating candles were shaped like pumpkins and ghosts.
At 7 p.m. on Halloween Eve, Phineas arrived with Draco and Astoria.
Hermione, Luna, and Neville also came to the feast, choosing to avoid the Deathday Party. Draco quickly joined them and climbed into a pumpkin-shaped carriage with his friends.
Phineas led Astoria into another carriage and sat down beside her.
Then the performance began—celebrities from the wizarding world had been invited to entertain.
Astoria, unfamiliar with such events, watched with bright curiosity.
The Skeleton Dance Troupe's routine was nothing like a human's: eerie, whimsical, and oddly fascinating. The little girl was completely captivated.
"Eat something first. If you really like this, ask your father to arrange it next time," Phineas said, handing her a pie.
Astoria pouted but took the food and continued watching the strange, clacking skeletons.
Meanwhile, Phineas closed his eyes, deep in thought.
In the original timeline, Harry and the others would attend the Deathday Party, hear the basilisk's voice, and discover Mrs. Norris petrified. That would trigger the events surrounding the Chamber of Secrets and Tom Riddle's diary.
But this time, things were different.
The basilisk—Basque—was sealed in the chamber, only allowed to hunt acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest. And the diary had already been destroyed during the summer, which had led to Voldemort's attack.
This year, nothing should go wrong.
As Phineas mulled this over, the performance ended, and the feast wound down. Dumbledore tapped his goblet with a spoon, drawing attention.
"Ahem. I hope you all enjoyed the feast," he began. "There will be desserts shortly, but first, I have several announcements."
Phineas opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on Dumbledore.
The Headmaster continued:
"First, Professor Sirius Black will be resigning from his post as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and leaving Hogwarts tonight. Let's give him a round of applause for his service."
Polite applause followed.
"Second, our beloved gamekeeper, Professor Hagrid, will also be departing. He'll be succeeded in Care of Magical Creatures by Professor Grubbly-Plank. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will be Professor Dolores Umbridge. I hope everyone can learn advanced knowledge from her."
When Umbridge heard this, an unpleasant smile twisted her wide, toad-like face. She stood up awkwardly and gave a small bow to those around her, clearly trying to appear gracious, though her expression betrayed a sense of wounded pride.
She opened her mouth, clearly prepared to launch into a long-winded speech reminiscent of her address at the start of term—but Dumbledore cut her off without hesitation.
"The third matter—and the most important, in my opinion."
Phineas Black froze in his seat, startled and tense.
Dumbledore continued calmly, his gaze sweeping over the students:
"The Ministry of Magic does not want me to tell you this. Some of your parents may be upset by what I am about to say. Nevertheless, I believe it is necessary. The truth must be told."
He paused for a beat.
"Yes, it is true. Lord Voldemort has returned. He attacked Mr. Phineas Black during the holidays. The Ministry would prefer I remain silent, on the grounds that you are all too young to hear such things. But I do not share that view."
"Lies, no matter how well intended, tend to unravel. One lie demands another, and soon, trust begins to erode. I believe you deserve the truth—because only through truth can we be prepared."
"Twelve years ago, Voldemort sought to destroy all who opposed him. He will return with even greater fury. To ignore that would be reckless. We must begin to prepare—now."
A shrill, outraged voice pierced the Hall.
"What utter nonsense you are speaking!"
All eyes turned to Dolores Umbridge, who had sprung up from her high-backed chair, pink cardigan quivering with indignation.
"Silence! Albus Dumbledore, you are openly challenging the authority of Minister Fudge! You are defying the Wizengamot! Everything you have said is dangerous—irresponsible—and categorically untrue!"
Everyone stared as she continued shrieking. Phineas, unsurprised, merely watched.
Umbridge was terrified—not only of Voldemort's name but of what his return meant for her political career. She had conspired to cover it up. Exposure meant not only disgrace, but revenge from the Black family. Her panic was a natural response.
She raved, accusing Dumbledore of dementia, screaming about betrayal.
And so, the Halloween feast ended—not in cheer, but in dread.
The younger students looked pale and frightened. Voldemort, to them, was a nightmare come to life—a monster from childhood stories.
On the way back to the Slytherin common room, Astoria tugged Phineas' sleeve.
"You knew Professor Dumbledore was going to announce that tonight, didn't you?"