When the Ancestors Answered
Halloween at Hogwarts was always loud.
Pumpkins floated under the enchanted ceiling, candles burned blue and gold, and laughter filled the Great Hall. Plates were piled high, chatter bounced from table to table—
Yet something was missing.
Keith noticed it first.
His eyes scanned the hall once, then twice.
"…Neville and Ron aren't here," he said quietly.
Susan leaned closer.
"Nearly Headless Nick invited them to his Deathday Anniversary. They were excited."
Keith nodded, understanding.
The music rose then—Professor Flitwick floating above the staff table, wand flicking joyfully as a student chorus began a Halloween song. The melody was catchy, magical, and by the final verse the entire hall was clapping along.
It ended in thunderous applause.
Dinner was served.
And then—
The doors of the Great Hall burst open.
A cold wind swept through the room.
Candles flickered.
Ghosts poured in.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
They floated silently, forming rows down the aisle.
Students froze mid-bite.
Professors stood.
Whispers died instantly.
And then—
Keith stood.
No.
He knelt.
One knee to the stone floor. Head bowed. Hand over heart.
The moment his knee touched the ground—
Every ghost in the hall kneeled.
A collective gasp rippled through the Great Hall.
"What—"
"Why are the ghosts—"
"Is this a ritual—?"
Keith's voice rang out, clear and steady, echoing with ancient authority.
"Forty-fifth Head of House Runcandel—
Keith Argus Runcandel—
greets the First Patriarch."
The air trembled.
From the center of the ghosts, one stepped forward.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Eyes like molten gold.
His presence alone pressed down on the hall like a mountain.
"We greet Lord Temar Runcandel."
Gasps turned to stunned silence.
Temar Runcandel—
The legendary founder.
The half-dragon patriarch.
The ancestor spoken of only in whispers and history books.
Temar floated before Keith, then smiled gently.
He reached out.
And patted Keith's head.
"You have done well," Temar said, his voice warm and proud.
"To lose your parents at the age of three… and yet rise to become the shield of your house."
Keith's shoulders trembled.
"I watched," Temar continued.
"I watched you protect the name.
Protect the blood.
Protect those who walk beside you."
A pause.
"I am glad," Temar said softly,
"that such a descendant was born to my house."
Keith's breath broke.
Tears slid down his cheeks—silent, unashamed.
For the first time since coming to this world…
For the first time since carrying everything alone—
He felt acknowledged.
Rias' eyes shimmered.
Susan covered her mouth.
Daphne, Astoria, and Cassandra stood frozen, hearts aching and proud all at once.
Hermione clenched her fists, eyes burning.
Ginny swallowed hard.
Penelope, Helana, Katie, and Angelina felt their chests tighten.
They had seen Keith strong.
Kind.
Calm.
Unshakable.
They had never known why.
At the staff table—
Professor Sprout wiped her eyes.
Flitwick lowered his head respectfully.
McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin, pained line.
Snape looked away.
Dumbledore closed his eyes.
They all understood now.
Strength like Keith's didn't come from talent alone.
It was forged.
Temar stepped back.
"House Runcandel stands strong," he declared.
"Its head stands worthy."
The ghosts rose.
One by one, they bowed.
And then—
They faded.
The Great Hall was silent.
No clapping.
No cheers.
Only respect.
Keith stood slowly, wiped his eyes, and returned to his seat.
Rias took his hand.
Susan squeezed his sleeve.
Nothing more needed to be said.
Above them, the enchanted ceiling glowed softly—
as if Hogwarts itself was honoring him.