Chapter 24: The Choice of a Dance Partner

After parting ways with the Slytherin students, Professor Lorre uncharacteristically did not return to his office. Instead, after making a circuit, he found himself once again at the entrance courtyard.

“Disillusion,” he murmured, tapping his wand to his body. Instantly, his form blended seamlessly with the surroundings.

On the steps before the Great Hall, the faint figure of a black-haired ghost appeared. He frowned in puzzlement, and his pupils turned crystalline and translucent, like colored glass. Before him, the vague outline of Professor Lorre shimmered into view.

Silently, he followed.

“Are you the new ghost?” A voice suddenly sounded.

Shiven, wholly absorbed in watching Professor Lorre, had not noticed anyone’s approach and was so startled he nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned his head, quietly dismissed the All-Seeing Eye, and looked with a somewhat sour expression at the newcomer.

The one who had arrived so silently was another ghost. Realization dawned on Shiven—no wonder there had been no sound of footsteps.

This ghost was an elderly gentleman dressed in a classical scholar’s robe. He wore a tall square cap and sported a neat goatee, exuding an air of refined elegance.

“That’s right, I am Stephen Strange. May I ask who you are?” Shiven inquired.

“You may call me Scholar Angulo,” the distinguished old ghost replied amiably. “I heard you hold a doctorate?”

“Ah, it’s nothing, hardly worth mentioning…” Shiven replied, somewhat embarrassed. He was, after all, an impostor; the real Stephen Strange had earned double doctorates, something he could never compare to.

Scholar Angulo smiled. “I have always admired learned individuals. Perhaps we can exchange ideas sometime.”

“Absolutely!” Shiven agreed readily, all the while thinking: Ghosts can't truly learn anything they never mastered in life; what’s the point of exchanging ideas…

Distracted, he glanced toward the staircase leading to the Slytherin common room. Sure enough, Professor Lorre had already vanished.

Lorre’s skill with spells was exceptional. If one didn’t know his exact position in advance, even with the All-Seeing Eye, it was nearly impossible to catch a trace of him when he used Disillusionment.

Looks like there’s no way to find out what Professor Lorre is up to today. What a pity, Shiven thought, shaking his head and sighing inwardly.

Scholar Angulo, entirely oblivious to Shiven’s disappointment, warmly insisted on introducing him to important members of the Ghost Council.

After some thought, Shiven agreed—spending every day glued to Helena in the library wasn’t quite appropriate, after all.

Through a morning of conversation, Shiven’s opinion of Scholar Angulo changed considerably.

Despite being referred to as a “scholar,” Angulo’s knowledge was as profound as that of any doctor, perhaps even surpassing many. He possessed a deep and extensive understanding of all kinds of magical disciplines, and even had some knowledge of alchemy, a subject Shiven was greatly interested in.

Looks like there’s plenty to gain from Scholar Angulo, Shiven thought with satisfaction.

The next day was Friday, the closest day of the week to the precious weekend. Young witches and wizards yearned for the day to end quickly, wishing time would leap instantly into the carefree joy of the weekend.

Slytherin’s first years were particularly lucky: on Friday, they had only one Potions lesson scheduled for the whole morning. That meant that after surviving their Potions class, they would officially enjoy a two-and-a-half-day holiday!

This school year, apart from the crucial exam years of fifth and seventh, Professor Slughorn only taught one extra fourth-year class. And since it wasn’t their own Head of House’s subject—even though Professor Rice made Potions lively and engaging—nothing could dampen the first years’ enthusiasm for the weekend.

However, none of them expected that, five minutes before class ended, Professor Slughorn would appear silently at the dim doorway of the Potions classroom. With a grim expression, he caught Mobley, who had been causing mischief, but curiously overlooked Mobley’s partner in crime, Abraxas.

After class, the affable Head of House waited by the classroom door. He invited Abraxas from the Malfoy family, Alcyone from the Greengrass family, and Walburga from the Black family to join his Slug Club.

“This is unfair!” Mobley grumbled bitterly as they headed toward the Great Hall.

“Perhaps that’s the way of things,” Abraxas replied smugly, tilting his chin upward to look down at Mobley. “By the way, why didn’t the Head of House invite you, Shiven?”

“The Head of House said my Friday detentions would be replaced by Slug Club meetings, so I had no choice but to agree.” Shiven spread his hands, indicating that he’d already joined a few days ago.

“No choice?” Gomez and Mobley stared at him in disbelief, as if on the verge of despair.

Shiven patted their shoulders. “Don’t worry, the Head of House truly values talent. If you do well, he’ll invite you soon enough.”

“That’s easier said than done…” Mobley immediately wilted. Gomez said nothing, but his determined look suggested he was willing to try.

“Shiven!”

At that moment, Alcyone’s voice came from behind. She waved off a group of giggling girls and hurried over alone.

Shiven paused, glancing at her curiously.

“I heard from Walburga’s cousin Lucretia that the Slug Club hosts dances. Do you have dress robes?” Alcyone asked, her cheeks tinged with red.

“What? A dance?” Shiven was bewildered. “Aren’t professor-run clubs supposed to be for academic discussion?”

“The Slug Club is different!” Alcyone stamped her foot impatiently. “Well, do you have dress robes or not? If you send an express owl to the Elegance Robe Shop in Hogsmeade now, you could rent a set before dinner!”

At the mention of the Elegance Robe Shop, Shiven remembered—Sandrine had bought him a set of dress robes from there in Diagon Alley.

“I actually do have a set,” he replied.

After a pause, he asked hesitantly, “But… is it possible not to dance? I have absolutely no idea how…”

He was certain that, in all his lives, he’d never learned anything about dancing. If he had to perform a martial arts routine, maybe he could handle it, but to dance? The mere thought was mortifying!

“No!” Alcyone’s fine brows shot up, and she declared sternly, “You can learn!”

After a glance at Shiven’s utterly clueless expression, she softened and whispered, “I can teach you.”

Then, her face bright red, she scurried away in tiny, hurried steps.

“Hey, mate! So, are you sure your dance partner is Alcyone?” Abraxas sidled over with a mischievous grin, throwing an arm around Shiven’s shoulders. Mobley and Gomez eyed him with the same teasing curiosity.

Shiven stood stunned for a long moment, still trying to process how things had escalated so quickly. Only when Abraxas asked did he realize something was off.

“I don’t recall ever agreeing to dance! Nor did I say Alcyone would be my partner!” he exclaimed.

Suddenly, it dawned on him—he might have been swept along without realizing it…

…