Ethan didn't stand on ceremony. He picked up the venison soup and used a fork to fish out a piece of meat, finding the taste surprisingly decent.
As for the rock-hard biscuits, he dipped them in the soup before eating them. It was much better than eating them dry.
"Hagrid, can you eat spicy food?"
After eating a little, Ethan paused and asked curiously. Hagrid, who was still devouring meat in large chunks, looked up.
Although Ethan's physical fitness had improved and his appetite had grown, it still couldn't match Hagrid's monstrous capacity.
"I can eat it!"
With his mouth still full of venison, Hagrid nodded in response.
"Great. Tomorrow I'll bring you a gift—a Muggle method of eating that the Hufflepuff students are really fond of."
Recently, Ethan had visited the Hufflepuff common room several times to eat. Hot pot was becoming increasingly popular there.
However, the version made by the house-elves was still a bit lacking, and they were tweaking the recipe. Ethan even sent a letter home via owl asking for more authentic hot pot seasoning.
"Sounds wonderful!"
Once Hagrid had eaten his fill and rested a bit, he took Ethan out.
He was carrying a massive oil lamp in one hand, a giant crossbow slung across his back, a quiver full of arrows over one shoulder, and Fang trotting at his side.
Fang, however, was proving to be a bit of a letdown—far too timid. If anything dangerous happened, Fang would probably run faster than Hagrid.
On the dark, misty forest path illuminated by the flickering lamp, Hagrid explained the terrain and dangers of the Forbidden Forest to Ethan. He also offered a few words of comfort.
To him, any normal young wizard should be afraid of the Forbidden Forest.
"Hagrid, is a crossbow more useful than a wand?"
They had been walking for over an hour. Aside from a few magical creatures darting through the shadows, it had been uneventful. Ethan finally asked a question he had been pondering.
The Shield Charm—also known as the Protective Charm—could block bullets, rifle fire, and even grenade blasts. Ethan had tested this using his family's collection of firearms and explosives from their overseas business dealings.
The crossbow had high impact at close range, but it still couldn't pierce the Shield Charm.
So why did Hagrid favor the crossbow? Could it have magic-piercing capabilities?
"For frenzied magical beasts, a crossbow's handy," Hagrid explained. "But it's not much good against poachers. They're quick and can defend themselves with spells."
He wasn't hiding anything; that was just the truth.
But Hagrid wasn't afraid of the poachers in the Forbidden Forest. First, he raised many magical pets—adorable to him, lethal to others.
Second, he had a strong alliance with the centaurs and could call on their support.
His primary role was to hold off the poachers. Thanks to the strength and magic resistance from his giant bloodline, he was more than capable of that.
"I see!"
So there were no magic-breaking materials in this world after all. Ethan had been overthinking it.
Still, guns and crossbows were highly effective against unprepared wizards. Especially guns—they thrived on surprise. Plus, not every wizard could cast a Shield Charm. Only trained elites typically mastered it.
"Look—Mooncalves!"
Suddenly, Hagrid grabbed Ethan and pointed to an open patch of forest on the right. He gestured for Ethan to stay quiet and observe.
Ethan followed his gaze and spotted several creatures resembling alpacas. They had wide, sparkling eyes, craned their necks toward the full moon, and rocked back and forth on their hind legs in a strange, clumsy rhythm.
They were surprisingly cute.
"Ethan, you're lucky! Mooncalves only come out during full moons. They're shy—any sound sends them fleeing."
"See those silvery-white patches on the ground? That's Mooncalf dung. Makes excellent fertilizer. Works wonders on pumpkins. I sometimes give a batch to Professor Sprout."
Hearing that, Ethan instantly felt uneasy.
Dancing and pooping at the same time? Now that was magical.
The dung kept accumulating—little silvery spots wherever the Mooncalves stepped. Over time, it formed a glistening silver carpet, like a dance floor made just for them.
When the "performance" ended, the Mooncalves vanished into their burrows.
Hagrid explained that this was part of their courtship—after the dance, they went home to… well, do what couples do.
Ethan thought that if he had any Biting Cabbages, he'd trap some Mooncalves to boost dung production. (Though in the game, Biting Cabbages were powerful, it was hard to believe they'd have that effect in real life.)
"Come on, let's collect the dung before it sees sunlight—it'll lose its potency."
Hagrid strode forward confidently. In his eyes, this was a treasure. He had his own vegetable garden, partly for personal food and partly to grow those enormous Halloween pumpkins.
Ethan used Transfiguration to create a box, then levitated the Mooncalf droppings into it, saving Hagrid the trouble of scooping it by hand.
"Ethan, that's all for today. I'll stash these and take you back to Hogwarts!"
Hagrid beamed, carrying the box full of silver dung.
They'd patrolled for nearly two hours and even caught a Mooncalf show. It was getting late, and Hagrid didn't plan to keep Ethan until sunrise.
Chapter 53: Halloween Feast
October 31st—Halloween Eve.
The young wizards awoke to the smell of roasted pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even breakfast featured pumpkin pie.
In Charms class that morning, they practiced the Levitation Charm. As usual, Seamus managed to turn his into a minor explosion.
The rest of the day was routine—until the final class ended and the students gathered in the Great Hall.
The hall had been extravagantly decorated. A thousand bats flapped along the ceiling and walls, with another thousand hovering like dark clouds over the tables.
Pumpkins carved with ghoulish faces floated midair, glowing from flickering candlelight inside.
"If I pull a prank today, it shouldn't be a problem, right?"
Ethan considered pulling one on the garbage bin behind Albert's shop in London. But remembering his early days in the wizarding world, he reconsidered.
It wasn't that he loved pranks—it was the reward system. If a prank affected enough people, he would earn an achievement.
For that reward, he was willing to take the risk.
He pulled George and Fred aside to explain the plan.
"This is brilliant! Ethan, you're a genius! Why didn't we think of this?"
"For maximum effect, we'll need more people involved."
"Right—and maybe we can also add…"
The twins were ecstatic, modifying and enhancing Ethan's plan with glee.
As night fell, students filled the Great Hall for the feast. The food was extravagant—pumpkin delicacies and dozens of French entrées.
The mood was cheerful. But aside from the bats and floating pumpkins, the atmosphere didn't quite scream "Halloween."
Suddenly—hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance.
The doors burst open. A student covered in blood and dirt staggered inside.
Everyone turned to look.
He seemed to be third or fourth-year, but his face was too messy to tell.
"Help…"
Before he could finish, a clawed hand reached from outside and yanked him back.
A steel claw slashed his throat, spraying blood ten feet into the air.
The hall fell into stunned silence.
Was someone actually murdered?
From the mist beyond the doorway, a scarred, burned man stepped forward, dragging the body. Cold wind and ghostly mist followed him inside.
Then the lights went out.
Only the faint candlelight inside the pumpkin lanterns remained.
Panic erupted.
Hundreds of screams filled the air. Students stampeded toward the exits.
It was complete chaos.
Ethan, calmly watching the system panel, saw the notification flash: Achievement unlocked.
He knew the prank had worked.
"Everyone, be quiet!"
The lights flared on again, and a powerful voice echoed through the hall.
Dumbledore stood on the high platform, professors flanking him.
Snape swooped down from the stage like a giant bat.
He used his wand to reveal the truth—restoring the "corpse" and "killer" to their true forms.
Then, he dragged Ethan out from behind the door.
"Scaring students, disrupting the Halloween banquet—Ravenclaw's genius and Gryffindor's troublemakers. What punishment should they face?" Snape said sternly.
He'd been on a rampage lately, especially after Slytherin lost 250 points.
Now, he was deducting points for even the smallest infractions—untidy robes, wrong answers, potion missteps.
"My suggestion: deduct 100 points from Gryffindor, 50 from Ravenclaw—and expel them!"
Ethan rolled his eyes. Expel? Not happening.
He couldn't understand how other transmigrators managed to befriend Snape. He was perpetually cold and sharp-tongued, completely disinterested in anything outside of Harry.
"Students, please return to your seats. A few students were playing a Halloween-themed prank," Dumbledore said calmly.
He gestured toward Cedric, Lee Jordan, and several others.
Now, everyone understood.
George had played the victim with a fake throat wound—the blood was just water.
Fred had worn a disfigured mask and fake claws made with Transfiguration.
Ethan had created the mist, wind, and shadows with a modified Freezing Charm and a few wooden stakes.
Inside the hall, Cedric and Lee helped set the mood and cut the lights.
Luckily, the professors had arrived quickly. If they hadn't, a stampede might've occurred.
Ethan hadn't expected the prank—enhanced by the twins—to be that realistic.
"Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff: deduct ten points each!"
Professor McGonagall stepped forward and announced the result.
Since no harm had been done, she handled it herself—and she wasn't about to let Snape run wild.
Snape's deduction spree had already made her job difficult. If she allowed it now, Gryffindor would owe points by the end of the week.
And she wasn't about to become famous for that.