The hidden side of the Wizarding World

Chapter 39: Halloween, graveyard, and murder

Halloween morning

The Slytherin dormitory was unusually lively for a Saturday morning. The usual lazy quiet of the weekends was replaced with a hum of excitement—Halloween had arrived, and even in the dungeons, where light barely touched, there was an unmistakable buzz in the air.

Harrison sat on the edge of his bed, absently fastening the last button on his sleeves, his hands moving with practiced ease. The sounds of his dorm mates talking, laughing, and getting ready filled the space around him, but it all felt distant—muffled, as if he were hearing it from underwater. His mind was elsewhere.

October 31st.

Most people thought of Halloween as a time for sweets, parties, and ridiculous costumes. And for wizards it was the anniversary of the defeat of the dark lord, the end of the war. For Harrison, it was the anniversary of his parents' deaths. The anniversary of the night everything changed.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and focused on folding his pyjamas. It wasn't the first Halloween he had spent at Hogwarts, but the weight of the day hadn't gotten easier. It was strange how something could be so universally celebrated, yet so deeply personal to him.

"Harrison."

He looked up as Theo's voice broke through his thoughts. Theo was standing near his own bed, adjusting the cuffs of his robes, his sharp eyes fixed on Harrison with quiet scrutiny.

Draco Malfoy, who had been fixing his hair in the mirror (and taking far longer than necessary, as always), turned at the sound of Theo's voice. His silver-grey eyes landed on Harrison, and his smug expression faltered slightly. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, blunt as ever.

Harrison exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

Theo shot him a look that said he didn't believe a word of it. "Try again."

"I said I'm fine," Harrison repeated, a little sharper this time. He finished adjusting his robes and grabbed his wand from his bedside table, shoving it into his pocket.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're about as fine as Longbottom is at Potions."

Theo hummed in agreement. "You've barely said anything since you got up."

Harrison hesitated. He wasn't surprised that they had picked up on his mood—Draco and Theo were more observant than people gave them credit for, especially when it came to him. Still, he didn't want to talk about it. What was there to say? That while the rest of the school was celebrating Halloween and the defeat of the dark lord, he was stuck remembering two people he barely had the chance to know?

"It's just... today isn't exactly my favourite day," he admitted, his voice quiet. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake off the lingering heaviness in his chest. "But it's fine. I have Quidditch practice, right? I'll focus on that."

Draco and Theo exchanged a glance—one of those silent conversations they had perfected far too quickly.

Draco, of course, was the first to speak. "Right. Quidditch. Because nothing fixes a mood like flying around in the freezing cold and trying not to get your head taken off by a Bludger."

Harrison snorted, despite himself. "Exactly."

Theo, ever the quieter of the two, didn't say anything right away. Instead, he walked over to his trunk, rummaged through it for a moment, and pulled out something small. He turned and tossed it toward Harrison, who caught it reflexively. When he opened his hand, he found a small piece of dark chocolate resting in his palm.