"Why Snape?"
Someone asked the question blankly.
"Yeah… why Snape…" Avada lowered his head as well. Even though he knew a little more than most, it didn't stop him from sharing the same bewilderment as everyone else.
How had this man—who had stayed by Dumbledore's side for more than a decade and enjoyed his deep trust—somehow regained the trust of those hardline pure-blood families?
On what grounds? A few years of collegial friendship? Or the Dark Mark on his arm? Voldemort himself had already fallen completely—what use were those things now? More importantly, many of them had been in the same year as Snape. They all knew what had happened between him and Lily!
In the original story, Snape earned Voldemort's—and the Death Eaters'—absolute trust only because of the "achievement" of personally killing Dumbledore. That was a merit beyond measure, enough to silence all dissent.
But this time? What had he done?
And logically speaking, once they'd toppled Dumbledore—the biggest obstacle—their goal should've been achieved. Even if, as Dumbledore claimed, they wanted to go further and reshape Hogwarts into a factory that indoctrinated students with extremist pure-blood ideology, they should have proceeded gradually. Otherwise, they would provoke fierce backlash—just like what Umbridge faced in the original story.
So even if the Board of Governors had collectively lost their minds and insisted on starting the "reform" immediately… why not simply parachute in a headmaster they could fully trust?
Why "restart" Snape, a man who had spent more than ten years at Dumbledore's side—whose loyalty was deeply suspect?
That confusion lasted until Avada returned to the dormitory that night and found a note tucked beneath his pillow, pinned with a vivid red feather.
[Voldemort is still in my hands. Do not worry.]
[Professor Snape will do everything he can to ensure student safety, but from his perspective there will always be things he cannot see. I leave the rest to you.]
[In critical moments, you may trust Professor Snape—but try not to show it.]
[This is not over. Be careful in everything.]
"..."
No matter how much people questioned it, Snape ultimately took the headmaster's seat under the Board of Governors' absolute authority. For the time being, he also served as Slytherin Head of House and Potions Master—since this year's hiring had already ended, it would likely take until next year to find a new Potions professor and allow Snape to become a full-time headmaster.
And during that period, everyone—including Avada—noticed something strange: Snape did not move into the Headmaster's Office. He continued living in his Slytherin Head of House office. This led many to suspect that Snape had not truly been acknowledged as headmaster at all. Most believed that Hogwarts Castle had its own will—that it could choose who would lead it, rather than simply obeying a decree from the Board.
Fortunately, Snape did not arrive with "three fires of a new official," drastically changing Hogwarts' rules and facilities. Instead, he continued using the regulations left behind in Dumbledore's era. Classes, Quidditch, and the general rhythm of school life remained unchanged. Aside from Slytherin's hourglass soaring upward and the annoying crowing of roosters disappearing, it seemed as if nothing had changed.
And yet, the entire school still felt smothered beneath an oppressive atmosphere. Smiles all but vanished from the professors' faces. Hagrid, the gamekeeper, spent several straight days sniffling and weeping. And students found their moods sinking each time they looked up during meals and saw an old bat sitting in what used to be Dumbledore's place…
So in this atmosphere, this year's Halloween feast became more important than ever. Everyone hoped to have a proper, uninhibited celebration—to wash away the gloom that Dumbledore's departure had cast over the castle.
Even the ghosts were joining in.
According to them, this year's Halloween happened to be the five-hundredth deathday of Gryffindor's ghost, Nearly Headless Nick—and, conveniently, Nick had also recently run into some troubles of his own (rumor had it his application to join the Headless Hunt had been rejected). So he planned to invite ghostly friends from every corner to throw a grand banquet on Halloween, livening things up for everyone.
And Snape, perhaps for the sake of stabilizing his own position, followed Dumbledore's style and permitted the ghosts to enjoy the feast alongside the students in the Great Hall—so long as they didn't drift through the long tables and chill the food.
Thus, at the Halloween banquet, the Great Hall split into two worlds.
Down below were still the four long tables lit by warm, golden candles, with students eating and chatting happily. Bats and pumpkins decorated everything, and this time, even the headmaster's seat had an enormous bat decoration perched above it.
But if you looked up, you saw an entirely different scene.
Countless thin, black candles floated near the very ceiling, burning with an eerie blue flame. Their light made the white faces of the ghosts look even more sinister. Dozens upon dozens—at least a hundred—ghosts swirled through the air like a vast cloud, spectacular to behold, though the cold they brought made the hall feel several degrees colder out of nowhere. Some enthusiastic ghosts even drifted down to chat with students, the whole scene looking like snow was falling indoors…
"Wow! I remember you—you're the boy who came over and asked about my cause of death!"
At the Hufflepuff table, the Fat Friar was chatting merrily with a crowd of ghosts, and quite a few students had joined in as well. And whether by luck or misfortune, Avada's seat wasn't far from them…
So, unsurprisingly, he was noticed by the ghost from the abandoned bathroom—Moaning Myrtle.
"Happy Halloween, Myrtle… would you like a slice of pumpkin pie? I heard that when you pass through food, you can taste some of it?"
"Who told you that?" Myrtle raised an eyebrow. "Then what would that make me, living in a toilet all day?"
"..."
Avada silently lowered the golden slice of pumpkin pie in his hand, then pushed the bowl of pepper-smeared, aggressively lumpy mashed potatoes a little farther away.
"Wait—Ken, you actually went to Myrtle on purpose?"
Hannah, sitting across from Avada, noticed something odd. She pulled the mashed potatoes toward herself while giving him a suspicious look. "But I thought Myrtle never leaves that girls' bathroom?"
"Ahem… it was necessary. Necessary," Avada coughed, then simply pushed his pumpkin pie over to Hannah as well. "Eat. Eat."
"Oh."
Faced with this mysterious upperclassman—whose name no one seemed to know, and who had personally sealed Voldemort—Hannah didn't overthink it. She lowered her head and focused on the pumpkin pie she'd just acquired.
"Oh? You're chatting with ghosts?"
Just then, the Fat Friar floated down too, looking at Avada in surprise. "Are you very interested in how ghosts died? Want to hear how I died? I promise it's even more thrilling than Nick's. He's been dragging everyone around all day to show off his neck. If ghosts could drink, I'd suspect he was drunk…"
"Wait!"
Avada suddenly sprang to his feet, startling the people around him. "Myrtle—could you do me a favor and stand next to the Fat Friar?"
(End of Chapter)