46 Feast to Remember

As the welcome feast was underway, Lucas found himself immersed in the warm, inviting atmosphere of the Hufflepuff table. The long wooden bench was slightly worn but comfortable, and the golden plates and goblets gleamed invitingly in the candlelight. The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of roast chicken, buttered vegetables, and freshly baked bread.

Lucas's fellow first-years were a lively bunch with their faces alight with excitement. Hermione, her bushy hair even more unruly in the humidity of the Great Hall, was peppering an older student with questions about the curriculum. Her brown eyes sparkled with an insatiable thirst for knowledge.

"I've read all about the different classes in Hogwarts: A History," she said eagerly, leaning forward on her elbows. "But I'm especially looking forward to Transfiguration. Is it true that Professor McGonagall can turn into a cat?"

The older student, a friendly-looking girl with a yellow and black prefect badge pinned to her robes, chuckled warmly. "Oh yes, she's an Animagus. It's quite a sight to see her transform. But don't let that fool you - she's as strict as they come."

Justin, his curly hair neatly combed and his tie now perfectly knotted, looked up from his plate with interest. "What about Potions?"

The prefect grimaced slightly as her nose wrinkled. "Professor Snape can be...difficult," she admitted, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Especially if you're not in Slytherin. But as long as you follow instructions and don't cause trouble, you should be fine."

While the conversation flowed around him, Lucas took a moment to subtly survey the staff table. The professors were a varied bunch, from the diminutive Professor Flitwick perched on a stack of cushions to the sallow-faced Professor Snape glowering at his plate. In the center, Dumbledore presided over the feast like a benevolent monarch as his silver beard gleamed in the candlelight.

With a small surge of intent, Lucas sent a small pebble skittering across the flagstone floor behind the staff table. It clattered and bounced, but none of the professors seemed to take any notice, too engrossed in their own conversations. Even Dumbledore merely took a sip from his goblet while talking with Professor Sprout about something.

Satisfied that his little test had gone unobserved, Lucas turned his attention back to his housemates just as a new figure glided up to the table. It was a ghost, plump and jolly-looking in his monk's robes, with a beaming smile on his translucent face.

"Welcome, welcome, new Hufflepuffs!" he boomed, spreading his arms wide in greeting. "I am the Fat Friar, ghost of Hufflepuff House. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

Several first-years gasped at the sight of the spectral monk, but the Fat Friar seemed quite used to such reactions. He merely chuckled as his belly jiggled like a bowl full of jelly.

"No need to be alarmed, my dear children," he said kindly with his eyes crinkling at the corners. "We ghosts are quite harmless, I assure you. In fact, we rather enjoy the company of the living!"

He turned to Lucas with a knowing smile. "Ah, and you must be Mr. Potter! I've heard much about you, of course. We're all quite excited to see what you'll make of your time here at Hogwarts."

Lucas inclined his head politely, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The pleasure is mine, Friar. I'm looking forward to my time in Hufflepuff."

As the Fat Friar launched into a spirited retelling of a particularly amusing incident involving a group of mischievous badgers and a barrel of mead, Lucas took the opportunity to put his plan into motion.

Hidden beneath the table, a small drop of spell-infused blood no larger than a tear rose from a vial concealed in his robes. With a subtle gesture, Lucas sent it floating across the Great Hall, guiding it between the legs of chattering students and narrowly avoiding any obstacles.

It zipped beneath the staff table, hovering for a moment behind Professor Quirrell's chair before darting forward and sinking into the skin at the base of his neck.

For a moment, nothing happened. Quirrell continued to spoon roast potatoes onto his plate, nodding absently at something Professor Sprout was saying. But then, without warning, he stiffened while his fork clattered to the floor.

A hush fell over the Great Hall as every eye turned to the staff table. Quirrell was on his feet, his hands scrabbling frantically at his neck as his face contorted in agony. Angry red boils erupted across his skin, sizzling and popping as they spread.

"No!" he screamed hoarsely. "Master, please! It burns!"

With a sickening ripping sound, Quirrell's turban burst apart, shreds of purple cloth fluttering to the ground. There, protruding from the back of his head like a grotesque second face, was a chalk-white visage with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils.

Chaos erupted in the Great Hall. Students screamed and scrambled away from the staff table, overturning plates and goblets in their haste. Some of the younger ones began to cry, clutching at each other in terror.

The professors leapt to their feet with wands drawn and faces grim. Dumbledore moved to the front of the table, his eyes hard and his wand trained on Quirrell's writhing form.

"Tom," he said calmly. "I suggest you surrender quietly. You cannot hope to escape."

The face on the back of Quirrell's head let out a high, cold laugh that caused multiple young students to burst into terrified tears. "You old fool," it hissed, its voice dripping with venom. "You think you can hold me? I am Lord Voldemort! I am immortal!"

Quirrell's body burst into flames, the stench of burning flesh filling the air. Several students retched, and even some of the professors looked queasy. But Dumbledore stood firm while his wand never wavered.

"NOW!" the old headmaster roared, and a blinding flash of light erupted from the tip of his wand.

When the spots cleared from Lucas's vision, he saw that Quirrell's body had crumpled to the ground, nothing more than a smoking husk. But hovering above it, trapped in a shimmering sphere of light, was a writhing mass of black smoke. It thrashed and howled, its red eyes burning with hatred as it glared at Dumbledore.

"This isn't over, Dumbledore," it snarled as its voice echoed strangely in the sudden silence of the Great Hall. "I will return, and you will all pay for this indignity!"

Dumbledore merely smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "I think not, Tom," he said softly. "Your time is over."

With a flick of his wand, the sphere of light containing the smoke began to shrink, compressing the dark mass tighter and tighter until it was no larger than a snitch. Another flick, and it vanished entirely, sealed away in some unseen prison.

For a long moment, nobody moved. The only sound was the soft sobbing of the younger students and the ragged breathing of those who had been closest to Quirrell. Then, slowly, the whispers began.

"Was that really You-Know-Who?"

"I thought he was dead!"

"Did you see what happened to Quirrell? That was horrible!"

Lucas glanced around at his fellow Hufflepuffs, taking in their ashen faces and trembling hands. Hermione had tears streaming down her cheeks, and Justin looked like he might be throw up at any moment.

"It's alright," Lucas said softly, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder. "It's over now. Dumbledore's taken care of it."

But even as he spoke the words, Lucas knew that the fallout from this night was only just beginning. The wizarding world would be in an uproar once news of Voldemort's return got out. There would be questions, accusations, and a whole lot of fear.

When the prefects began to herd the shell-shocked students out of the Great Hall and back to their dormitories, Lucas couldn't help but feel grimly satisfied. His plan had worked perfectly. Voldemort was captured and his cover as Quirrell exposed.

Why should I waste my time and risk anything when I can just expose him straight away?

oo0ooOoo0oo

The Hufflepuff common room was a stark contrast to its usual warm and welcoming atmosphere. The round, low-ceilinged space, located near the kitchens, was filled with a somber silence that hung heavy in the air. The normally cozy armchairs and overstuffed sofas seemed to offer little comfort as the terrified students huddled together.

The first-years, who had arrived at the castle just hours earlier with hearts full of excitement and wonder, now found themselves thrust into a waking nightmare. The innocence and joy of their first feast at Hogwarts had been shattered by the horrifying death of a professor and the knowledge that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not as gone as they had believed.

Sobbing quietly into a handkerchief, Hannah Abbott's shoulders shook with each hiccuping breath. "I-I can't believe it," she managed between gasps. "This isn't how it was supposed to be. Hogwarts is supposed to be safe."

Next to her, Susan Bones sat with a comforting arm around her shoulders, nodding solemnly. "My auntie always said that Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who ever feared," she whispered. "But now, seeing him here, on our first night..." Her voice trailed off, the thought unfinished.

Disbelief was clear in Wayne Hopkins' voice as he shook his head, the tall, thin boy with sandy hair struggling to accept what had happened. "I didn't even know that professor's name," he said with a crack in his voice. "And now he's dead, just like that. Burned alive right in front of us."

In one of the plush armchairs, Megan Jones curled up, her small, dark-haired form trembling. "That face," she murmured, eyes haunted. "That horrible face on the back of his head. It's going to give me nightmares for weeks."

Looking around at his fellow first-years, Ernest Macmillan's expression was grave. "My father always said that You-Know-Who was the worst dark wizard in history," the stout boy stated. "But I never thought I'd see him in person, let alone on my first night at Hogwarts."

The prefects and older students were doing their best to comfort and reassure the younger ones, but it was clear that they were just as shaken by the night's events. Gabriel Truman, a tall, broad-shouldered seventh-year with a kind face, was moving from group to group, offering words of encouragement and support.

"I know it's scary," he said with a deep voice. "But you have to remember, Dumbledore and the other professors are here to protect us. They won't let anything happen to any of you."

A pretty fifth-year prefect with curly brown hair was sitting with a group of sniffling second-years, her arm around a particularly distraught girl. "It's okay to be upset," she said gently. "What happened tonight was terrifying. But we Hufflepuffs are strong, and we stick together. We'll get through this as a house."

Lucas, who was sitting with Hermione, Justin, and Neville, couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for his housemates. He knew that they were all struggling to process what they had witnessed, but he didn't regret doing what he did.

"They're both right," he said quietly. "We're all in this together."

Hermione, who had been leaning against Lucas for support, nodded in agreement. "I read in Hogwarts: A History that the castle has all sorts of protective enchantments," she said. "And with Dumbledore here, I'm sure we'll be alright."

Justin managed a small smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We're lucky to be in Hufflepuff," he said, looking around at their little group. "I can't imagine going through this without you all."

Neville, who had been quiet up until now, spoke up softly. "I was so scared," he admitted with a pale face and red-rimmed eyes. "But being here, with all of you...it makes me feel a little better."

Lucas reached out and gave Neville's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "We'll look out for each other," he promised, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "No matter what happens, we'll face it together, as Hufflepuffs."

Across the room, a group of older students were engaged in a hushed but heated discussion. Adrian Speke, a fifth-year with a prefect badge pinned to his robes, was leaning forward with concern clear on his face.

"Do you really think it was Him?" he asked. "You-Know-Who, back again?"

Tamsin Applebee, a seventh-year with a sharp, angular face, nodded grimly. "Who else could it have been? You heard what it said." she replied. "That face, those eyes...I'll never forget them as long as I live."

A burly sixth-year named Maximus Pritchard shook his head. "But how is it possible? Everyone knows Harry Potter defeated him when he was a baby. He's supposed to be gone for good."

Adrian sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I don't know, but if it is him, we're all in grave danger," he said. "We need to be prepared for anything."

Nearby, a group of fourth-years were engaged in a heated debate of their own with animated expressions.

"Did you see the way Dumbledore took him down?" one girl whispered with her eyes wide with awe. "Just like that, he had him trapped in that glowing sphere!"

A boy with dark curly hair nodded vigorously. "Merlin's beard, I've never seen anything like it," he breathed. "Dumbledore must indeed be the most powerful wizard alive."

Another girl, hands trembling, shook her head and voiced her concerns. "But what if he fails to keep You-Know-Who trapped?" she questioned. "What if Dumbledore isn't strong enough to hold him back?"

The curly-haired boy opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a voice cut through the murmurs like a knife.

"Let's calm our minds," suggested Professor Sprout, the warm-hearted Herbology teacher and Head of Hufflepuff House, as she stepped into the common room. Her face showed her concern clearly. "I understand everyone's very rattled by tonight's events, but we don't need to lose ourselves in wild guesses and hearsay."

She looked over the students as her eyes softened even more when she saw their worried expressions. "I need you to hear me out," she spoke with a soothing firmness. "Hogwarts is the most secure place in our magical community, and Albus Dumbledore is the most exceptional wizard of our time. With him around, you all are under the safest watch."

After a brief pause, allowing her comforting words to resonate, she continued. "I get it, what you've seen tonight was unsettling," she acknowledged. "However, giving into fear and rumors will only amplify our worries. Us Hufflepuffs? We're celebrated for our dedication, our perseverance, and our strong hearts. Now, more than ever, is the time to come together and lift each other up."

She swept her gaze across the room, making an effort to connect with each student. "Find solace in your housemates, in your friends," she encouraged. "Support each other, and remember, you're never alone in this. Together, we've got the strength to get through this storm."