Chapter 7: The Halloween Shadows
Halloween arrived with an eerie quiet across the Hogwarts grounds. The castle had taken on a peculiar aura—candles flickered just a little lower, the chill in the air seemed more persistent, and even the portraits whispered more than usual.
The Great Hall had been transformed with enchanted bats flapping overhead, floating pumpkins grinning with dancing lights, and a feast being prepared by the kitchen elves, rich with autumnal smells. Yet, Harrison Strange Potter's instincts prickled uncomfortably. Something was off.
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### **The Calm Before the Chaos**
Earlier that day, laughter echoed through the corridors as Fred and George Weasley orchestrated one of their most elaborate pranks yet. McGonagall had entered her classroom only to find her entire desk transfigured into a massive feline throne, with live purring cats arranged in a circle like advisors.
"We call it 'The Council of Whiskers,'" Fred announced grandly.
"An homage to your Animagus form," George added with a wink.
Even McGonagall, stern and steel-eyed, had allowed the barest twitch of a smile before assigning them a week's detention with Filch. Lee Jordan had immortalized the moment with a magically charmed parchment that drew the event like a moving comic.
Harrison chuckled quietly as he passed by the aftermath. He admired their creativity—it was chaotic, but it was honest.
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### **The Attack**
It began during the late evening hours.
The library, usually serene, exploded with a roar of magic and a surge of pressure that shook the castle's foundations. Students screamed as bookshelves collapsed, tomes flew through the air like possessed birds, and dark smoke slithered across the marble floor.
Harrison, who had been reading quietly in the Gryffindor common room, snapped to his feet. His eyes glowed briefly—purple and blue—before he vanished through a whisper of eldritch magic.
Within seconds, he reappeared at the corridor outside the library, boots crunching against broken glass and shattered wood. Professors were already shouting, spells firing to contain the chaos.
But Harrison didn't wait for orders.
He stepped forward, palm raised, murmuring an eldritch containment chant layered with Egyptian sigils. A green-gold dome expanded from his hand, pushing back the darkness and stabilizing the room.
Within the epicenter of the attack, near the Restricted Section, lay the remains of a shattered sigil—one carved in old blood magic. It had summoned something—**and someone**.
The creature was already gone, but Harrison saw the traces. Shadows that burned backwards. Magic that didn't belong in this timeline. A summoning gone wrong—or perfectly right for someone with darker intentions.
His jaw tightened.
No student had that power.
No *student*.
Harrison turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing.
"**Professor Malrik Crowe.**"
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### **The Investigation Begins**
By midnight, Dumbledore had arrived, followed by Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Vector. Aurors were expected by dawn. But Harrison already knew what they would find.
The professor in question—**Professor Malrik Crowe**, the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor—stood near the edge of the carnage, his eyes too calm, his robes too clean.
"I was preparing class materials," Crowe said, his voice smooth and cultured. "I heard the disturbance and came to help."
Harrison stepped forward, voice cutting across the room. "You're lying."
The professors turned to him in surprise.
Crowe's brow arched. "Excuse me, Mr. Potter?"
"You've been tampering with the restricted section. Forbidden rituals. Tracking ancient soul anchors. The backlash tonight wasn't random. It was a test run. You summoned something—something tied to soul fragmentation."
Dumbledore's expression hardened. "And how do you come by this information, Mr. Potter?"
"I followed the magic trail," Harrison replied. "It's like a fingerprint—no two sources are alike. The magic used tonight? It matches the residue I found on Harry months ago. Dark, split, broken. The signature is identical."
Gasps filled the room. Snape's eyes narrowed.
"Are you suggesting the professor is *possessed*?"
"I'm suggesting he's a *puppet*, and the puppeteer is back," Harrison said.
Crowe's lips curled faintly, but he said nothing.
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### **Later That Night**
By the time the staff had secured the library and confined Professor Crowe for further questioning, Harrison stood alone atop the Astronomy Tower. Cedric Diggory joined him, eyes searching the sky.
"They're rattled," Cedric said. "You shook them."
"I didn't need to shake them. The castle did that for me," Harrison muttered.
"Still… you took control. You knew what you were doing."
"I know because I've faced worse. This... this is only the beginning."
Cedric nodded slowly. "And when the storm hits?"
"I'll be the wall it breaks against."
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### **The Morning After**
Whispers filled the Great Hall the next day. Fred and George had just served their detention and returned with soot in their hair and grins on their faces.
"You two missed all the fun," Lee said, leaning in.
"Explosions?" Fred asked eagerly.
"Shadow demons?" George chimed.
Lee nodded. "Library looked like a dragon sneezed in there."
"Let me guess," George said, glancing at Harrison. "You did your magic mojo again?"
Harrison didn't smile.
"No," he said. "This time... it was someone else."
Fred and George exchanged glances. The laughter faded.
"I don't like it when you get serious," Fred said.
"Means the fun's over," George added.
Harrison stood, his gaze on the staff table where Dumbledore and Crowe sat—both too quiet.
"Fun isn't over," Harrison replied. "It's just begun. But so has the war."