If September had built Alexander's reputation…
October perfected it.
And by the third week of the month, Hogwarts had officially lost its collective nerve.
Within a single week, the legend of the Whispering Evil Ghost evolved into something the trio had not expected.
Students refused to walk alone at night.
Even seventh years suddenly rediscovered the value of "group travel."
First years sprinted between staircases like prey animals.
Prefects escorted clusters of students after dinner.
The corridors, once lively in the evenings, fell eerily quiet.
Exactly the atmosphere Alexander had envisioned.
But what amused him most were the Houses' reactions.
Naturally, Gryffindor took it personally.
If there was a mysterious entity stalking Hogwarts…
They would confront it.
Three separate "Evil Ghost Hunting Clubs" formed within days.
They carried:
Flashlight charms
Detection spells
Anti-ghost talismans (poorly made)
One group even attempted bait.
They left a student alone in a corridor pretending to cry.
Alexander watched from the shadows with Fred and George.
"…That's commitment," Fred whispered.
George nodded solemnly. "Respect the theatrics."
They stunned the bait student anyway.
For realism.
Slytherins handled it differently.
Publicly?
They mocked the rumors.
Privately?
They traveled in pairs.
Or threes.
Or full patrol groups if no one was looking.
One Slytherin second year jumped when a suit of armor shifted.
Alexander had to turn away to hide his laughter.
"Pride is a fragile thing," he murmured.
Caretaker Argus Filch had reached his breaking point.
He began patrolling nightly…
With three lanterns.
Not one.
Three.
Strapped across his belt like anti-ghost artillery.
He muttered constantly about "evil ghost delinquents."
But the true highlight…
Was Mrs. Norris.
She now wears a tiny protective charm collar.
A glowing blue ward pulsed around her fur.
The sight nearly broke Alexander's composure the first time he saw it.
Fred had to physically drag him behind a tapestry to stop him from laughing out loud.
"They enchanted the cat," George wheezed.
Alexander wiped tears from his eyes.
"Peak entertainment."
Of course, fear made the students try harder.
More patrols.
More prefects.
More risk.
And one night, the trio almost got caught.
The corridor outside the Trophy Room was their hunting ground that evening.
Torches flickered low.
Wind rattled distant windows.
Fred created echoing footsteps down one hall.
George layered a whisper illusion.
Alexander prepared the chilling aura charm.
A lone prefect approached.
Perfect target.
Alexander cast the cold surge—
But suddenly—
Footsteps.
From the opposite direction.
A second patrol.
Earlier than scheduled.
Alexander's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Move," he whispered.
He grabbed both twins by their collars and yanked them into a hidden pathway just as the prefect turned the corner.
Spells fired in rapid sequence:
Silencio muffled their breathing
Footstep suppression charm
Shadow distortion layered across the hidden pathway entrance
The prefect walked slowly forward, lantern raised.
He passed directly in front of them.
Paused.
The illusion fog rippled faintly.
The prefect shivered violently.
"…Evil ghost…"
And then—
He fled.
Full sprint down the corridor.
The trio stayed frozen until the footsteps vanished.
Fred finally exhaled.
"That was close."
George grinned immediately after.
"Worth it."
Alexander didn't laugh.
He watched the corridor thoughtfully as the shadows settled back into place.
Fear spread faster than pranks.
By Halloween Eve…
The castle buzzed with two undeniable truths.
Decorations had never been better.
And something was hunting students at night.
At dinner, the atmosphere was electric.
Floating pumpkins whispered louder than ever.
"The phantom is behind you…"
"It watches…"
Candles turned green the second Snape entered.
He stopped reacting after the fourth time.
Which somehow made it funnier.
Skeletons bowed deeply as Ravenclaws passed, drawing jealous looks from other Houses.
Students ate quickly…
Eyes darting toward the hall exits.
No one wanted to be the last one walking back.
At the Ravenclaw dinner table.
Fred raised his goblet and quietly said.
"To the Evil Ghost."
George clinked his drink against it.
"To Halloween spirit."
Alexander lifted his glass last.
"To psychological victory and tomorrow will bring more fear."
They laughed and drank.
Outside, thunder rolled across the enchanted ceiling.
Storm clouds gathered above the floating candles.
The entire hall glowed in eerie orange light.
Alexander leaned back in his chair, satisfied.
The legend was complete.
Fear, humor, atmosphere — all balanced perfectly.
So far, a successful Halloween.
But as he stood to leave…
He felt it.
A cold trace of magic.
Not theirs.
Not illusion.
Real.
Ancient.
His steps slowed near the Great Hall doors.
Students passed him nervously, unaware.
The cold sensation lingered in the air like breath in winter.
Somewhere deeper in the castle…
Something else was moving through the dark.
And unlike their ghost…
This presence did not feel like a joke.