Chapter 94: End-of-year Banquet
June 20th, Friday.
The Muggle Studies O.W.L. exams ended, and the thoroughly relieved candidates surged out of the examination hall, running through the corridors with light steps, taking stairs three at a time, rushing to the lakeside to enjoy this relaxation.
The O.W.L. exam results would be sent to the students during the summer vacation, allowing them about a month of leisurely time.
Melvin walked slowly along the corridor and staircase, occasionally greeting the portraits on the wall, with the shaky Professor Tofudi beside him, unable to go faster even if he wanted to.
Elective written subjects like Muggle Studies and Arithmancy always had their exams scheduled last. With this exam over, it meant all exams for the school year had ended.
The little wizards were relieved, and the professors were relieved too.
Passing a staircase landing, Melvin turned his head to observe the portraits and ghosts on both sides. They were discussing the house evening party programs and summer vacation plans. Summer sunlight streamed through the windows into the castle, and every thinking being in the school was looking forward to the arrival of summer vacation.
“It’s the ghosts.”
Professor Tofudi carried the sealed test tubes, his aged cheeks showing a smile: “Is Sir Cadogan of Gryffindor still around? The students call him Nearly Headless Nick. When I was studying, every summer vacation, he would go to Kent to see a widow ghost.”
“I didn’t expect Nic to have such a love story.”
“Haha…”
Unfortunately, Nic was unwilling to reveal the full story. The ghost play troupe performed several programs every year, all about his experience of being beheaded with a dull axe.
They chatted idly while going downstairs.
At the corner of the marble staircase, they noticed the surroundings were unusually quiet. The portraits and ghosts lowered their chatting voices, and students passing by would pause their play and chasing, put on obedient postures, and trot quickly through the foyer.
Melvin and Professor Tofudi did not stop their steps and arrived at the foyer, following the students’ gazes.
Two elderly figures stood at the foyer entrance, one tall and one short, gazing at the distant grounds and Black Lake, with faint smiles on their lips. When greeting passing students, they would remind them to be safe.
It was the Headmaster and Madam Marchbanks.
Madam Marchbanks wore a gray wizard robe with the Administration badge on her chest, leaning on a short staff. Her legs were fine; it just made standing and walking easier.
Melvin’s gaze shifted a bit farther to the path between the grounds, where he saw other old wizards from the Administration boarding Thestral carriages under Professor McGonagall’s guidance.
With the exams over, this group of old wizards was also leaving.
Melvin walked forward and nodded slightly to the two old wizards: “Madam Marchbanks, if you’re not in a hurry, how about staying for dinner before leaving? The end-of-year dishes are particularly abundant.”
“My teeth are about to fall out; no matter how abundant, I can’t enjoy them.”
A smile hung on Madam Marchbanks’ wrinkled face as her gaze moved, looking Melvin up and down. Her smile became even kinder, and she turned to Dumbledore, saying softly:
“Regarding the matters you asked about, I also can’t give answers, but the Administration has sealed many materials, including those from Herpo’s era. I’ll go back and look; there might be some findings.”
“No rush; it’s not an urgent matter.” Dumbledore chuckled.
“If really no clues, write to ask those old things: Bashida Bashk, Musidora Barkwith, Barry Winkel…”
Madam Marchbanks named several long-lived wizards, pausing slightly: “They’re all people about to die; no need to worry about them leaking secrets.”
Dumbledore nodded repeatedly, unclear if he was listening.
Melvin said goodbye to Professor Tofudi on the side.
Although they didn’t reveal the specific issue, he understood upon hearing Herpo’s name—it was still about Horcruxes and Voldemort.
The Department of Magical Examinations had a longer history than the Ministry of Magic and sealed many lost materials. The old Headmaster consulting Madam Marchbanks was probably hoping for luck, but there was no gain.
As for the old wizards she recommended, they were basically useless.
In the entire Wizarding World, who was longer-lived than Nicolas Flamel?
After seeing Madam Marchbanks and Professor Tofudi onto the carriage, Melvin watched them leave, then turned to the students scattered on the grounds and lakeside. He paused slightly and couldn’t help showing some smile.
The Defence Against the Dark Arts practical exam results were about to be announced.
The little wizards were still carefree, playing: some sliding slowly down the grass slopes, some sprawled under lakeside trees laughing and talking, some stretching out limbs lying on the grassland.
Unaware of the malice from the Professor of Muggle Studies.
Dumbledore had also heard about the practical exam. The first years took the exam first, re-challenging the fourth-floor adventure level, and the whole group got Unacceptable. Unclear what Melvin said to Minerva, but the subsequent years’ practical exams were changed to this, and all got Unacceptable.
A smile also appeared on his face: “Tomorrow is the end-of-year banquet, Melvin. When do you plan to tell the children this news?”
“After the banquet, so they can enjoy a pleasant end-of-year banquet.”
“Any plans for summer vacation?”
“A trip to Romania. Hagrid wants to visit his fire dragon whelp, and there’s a Budapest wizard market there. I’ll stop by to check the market environment.”
“After the check?”
“Visit Ilvermorny.”
“When back to school?”
“End of August. Why?”
Melvin quietly sized him up.
He always felt the dreadful old Headmaster wanted to drag him on an adventure, exploring some seaside cave or treasure hunting in a remote village’s abandoned house…
“School is busy before term starts; come back early to help Minerva.”
“…”
Melvin watched the old Headmaster’s figure go upstairs and disappear around the corner, paused in silence, and decided to return to school with the students.
He was just an elective professor, yet always thinking of arranging overtime.
…
The next evening.
The magical dome simulated a Midsummer Night starry sky, and a grand banquet was underway in the Great Hall.
Silver-green ribbons hung from the walls and ceiling, with a large banner depicting the spitting Slytherin serpent. At the four house tables, Gryffindor little wizards muttered about house points, while Slytherins were generally silent.
Other little wizards unconcerned with the House Cup gathered in twos and threes, chattering about summer plans and agreeing on dates to go shopping in Diagon Alley.
The seventh years who would not return to school sat in their seats, quietly looking at the tables and chairs and dome starry sky in the Great Hall, not talking much, always listening.
Melvin, who arrived half an hour early, helped Professor Flitwick set up the Great Hall and sat on the side of the high table, observing the thousands of candles floating in the air. He spotted the excited Hagrid holding a wine glass clinking everywhere and cleverly shifted aside to reduce his presence.
At seven minus three minutes, Dumbledore tapped his goblet with a silver spoon, the crisp tinkling suppressing the commotion in the Great Hall:
“Another year gone! Children, before fully enjoying these delicious dishes, please bear with the ramblings of this old fool. It has been a wonderful and stimulating year…
“Ahead lies an entire summer vacation waiting for you…”
Reviewing the past year, looking forward to the future, reminding students to enjoy the holiday while not relaxing their studies.
Not just this magic school—all school headmasters worldwide had similar tones. Dumbledore occasionally interspersed one or two cold jokes, making the Great Hall atmosphere even cooler.
After the routine remarks, it was time to tally house points:
“Now, first the House Cup awards. By calculation, the scores are: fourth place Slytherin, 312 points; next Hufflepuff, 352; Ravenclaw, 426!”
“Finally, Gryffindor, 442 points!”
Looking at the red-faced little wizards, Dumbledore smiled slightly, his loud voice overriding the cheers: “This means we need to make a little change!”
As the Headmaster announced Gryffindor winning the House Cup, the huge banners floating in the Great Hall began to shake. The Slytherin green snake faded away, replaced by the gold-and-red Gryffindor lion, and the silver-green ribbons turned gold-and-red.
The Gryffindors’ cheers nearly flipped the magical dome, shaking the tables, chairs, and cutlery.
Watching the wildly celebrating little wizards, Snape’s face was extremely grim, but thinking of the exam results to be announced later, his mood improved slightly.
