Chapter 4:
When the two of them came down to the second floor, they ran into Malfoy and his two cronies, Goyle and Crabbe, who were just about to descend.
Malfoy spotted Hermione first. His expression shifted—he seemed about to step forward and say something—but when he saw Gabin standing beside her, the eagerness on his face vanished and he left with visible disappointment.
Gabin watched Malfoy head down the stairs ahead of them, a trace of puzzlement flashing through his eyes.
Perhaps because of his muteness, his other senses were sharper than most people's. His eyes could shift into a magical perspective, and although his ears weren't quite that special, they were still far more sensitive than average.
Just moments earlier, before Malfoy had even seen them, Gabin had already heard his voice.
"…tiny bit of daffodil root powder… mugwort… tiny bit of croton powder…"
Then came a sinister chuckle.
After that, Malfoy noticed Hermione and immediately stopped talking to his lackeys.
"This guy is really disgusting," Hermione said, wrinkling her small nose as she stared at Malfoy's retreating back. "He's nothing like the nobles I've read about in books."
"And he keeps picking on Harry every single day," Gabin added with a small laugh.
"No—it's targeted at Harry. I really don't understand why he's so obsessed with him," Hermione said in bewilderment. Coming to school and not studying properly, but spending every day making trouble for other people—was that really the behavior of a student?
Probably that's just the bond between those two, Gabin silently remarked in his heart.
As they spoke, the pair reached the Great Hall on the first floor.
The hall had been redecorated today to match the holiday.
The candles that usually floated in mid-air had been replaced with pumpkin lanterns, one after another. Flocks of bats circled overhead—not frightening, but lending an air of mystery.
Thick banks of clouds hung suspended in the air, and at their center floated a huge, brilliant full moon, scattering silver light across the clouds below, the bats, and the feast tables, draping everything in a layer of silvery gauze.
Gabin gazed at the scene. Whether viewed through ordinary eyes or through his magical perspective, it all appeared profoundly mysterious and beautiful.
At that moment, Harry pulled Ron to his feet and stepped in front of Gabin and Hermione.
"Hermione, about what happened today… Ron wants to apologize to you," Harry said, stating their purpose clearly.
Gabin raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected things to develop this way, but childish squabbles didn't bother him much.
Hermione turned her head away, though she didn't walk around them to leave.
Ron also turned his head aside and stubbornly lifted his chin.
The two of them stood there like sulky little children, neither willing to speak first.
"Ron!" Harry tugged at his arm, giving him a reminder.
Ron remembered the tears he had seen on Hermione's face earlier that day, and then the unbearable teasing from Fred and George when he got back to the common room.
Especially how they kept circling him, saying things like:
"I just heard what?"
"Ron made a girl cry—"
"And it's a girl—"
"Really spineless, isn't he—"
"Should we tell Mum?"
Ron knew he had been in the wrong. And when Fred and George threatened to tell their mother, he panicked and shouted:
"I'll apologize to her—tonight, at the feast!"
At that very moment, the Weasley twins were sitting at the table, four eyes fixed on Ron, brimming with anticipation.
"Sorry," Ron finally mumbled under Harry's urging. His voice was as quiet as a mosquito, completely drowned out in the noisy Great Hall.
Hermione's expression flickered, but she didn't turn around. That tiny sound carried no sincerity at all.
"Ron, louder. You can do it," Harry encouraged.
It felt like a long time passed—or maybe only an instant. Ron clenched his fists, lips moving.
"Sorry!"
The word came out a bit muffled, but noticeably louder. At least all four of them heard it clearly.
Hermione's expression softened. She turned to look at Harry, then at Gabin, picked up the glass of pumpkin juice in front of Harry, gave Ron a small snort through her nose, and walked over to sit beside Parvati Patil from her year.
She didn't say anything, but her actions showed she had accepted the apology.
Besides, she had friends. Gabin was her friend. So whatever Ron said didn't matter—she had no reason to stay angry.
"Ron, you did it!" Harry threw an arm around Ron's shoulders, grinning.
"Yeah, you did it, Ron," the Weasley twins chimed in unison, clapping from the side.
"I don't want to be your little brother anyway," Ron muttered, but his mood had clearly improved and a smile appeared on his face.
The apology hadn't humiliated him or made him feel small. Instead, it felt like he had conquered something inside himself.
With that thought, the frustration and unhappiness quickly vanished from his face, and he threw himself back into the Halloween feast.
Suddenly feeling hungry again, he eyed the bacon in front of Harry and stretched his fork over.
"Harry, you eating this bacon?"
"Nah, today I'll try something else." Harry picked up a baked potato, skin and all.
Gabin sat beside Harry, watching the scene and feeling vaguely that something was off. But the festive atmosphere of the banquet swept over him, and he couldn't be bothered to think too deeply about it.
After all, inside Hogwarts, nothing truly catastrophic could happen. At worst, maybe a troll would barge in.
The thought made Gabin speed up his eating.
Just as the English word most people learn first is always "abandon," when it came to the entire Harry Potter story, Gabin remembered the first book most clearly—he knew almost every detail by heart. By the third book, he only remembered the general outline.
As for the rest, only fragments remained: the Room of Requirement burning, Dumbledore's death, the final battle between Harry and Voldemort—and Harry winning.
Beyond that, his memory grew hazy, even though he had read the entire series once.
So he knew that soon a troll would appear, the students would panic and flee without finishing their meal.
Thinking of this, Gabin glanced at Hermione. She was frowning, talking about something with Parvati beside her.
Even though the plot had shifted slightly, it shouldn't be a big problem. The trio had made up, hadn't they? With their naturally adventurous personalities, the later events probably wouldn't deviate too much.
At that moment, Ron—who was sitting right beside Gabin—yawned widely, looking like a child who had eaten his fill and was ready for a nap.
Perfectly normal. Kids this age needed plenty of sleep to grow tall. Look at Harry—he was always sneaking around at night.
Still… something felt wrong.
Gabin had the nagging sense that he was missing something important, but there was no time to dwell on it.
Suddenly Professor Quirrell burst into the Great Hall, his face filled with terror as though a three-headed dog from hell were chasing him.
His enormous turban was askew on his head. He staggered to Dumbledore's chair, gasping for breath.
"Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know—"
Then he collapsed face-first onto the floor and fainted.