As the host of the Deathday Party, Nick completely faded into the background shortly after starting his speech.

The siren choir on the main stage began to sing again, with goblins conducting the instruments. Tranquil music floated through the hall.

The Headless Hunt was undoubtedly the star of the evening. People crowded around them, watching them play games like "horseback head toss" and "head juggling," occasionally cheering. As a result, when Nearly Headless Nick finished his speech and left the podium, almost no one (or ghost) noticed that something was missing from the hall.

"Is that it? Is there anything else I can help with?"

Hermione stood by the podium and asked politely.

She hadn't had time to answer Nick's question because of the Headless Hunt's sudden arrival.

However, judging from the meaning revealed in the ghost's previous words, he was still very interested in the fusion of the two worlds that Hermione mentioned—which was not surprising, since it had been "Mr. Nick's" lifelong ideal when he was alive.

"No need," Nearly Headless Nick said quietly, watching the lively hall, "The number of attendees is satisfactory. Many friends who I didn't think would come actually made it... This is a very successful ghost gathering... Besides Sir Patrick's Headless Hunt, there are also those ghost dishes—their influence alone is enough to overshadow everything."

"Then, what should I call you now?"

Hermione asked softly, her gaze wandering through the ghost food area not far away.

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, or just Nick is fine," the ghost said calmly, "Thomas Cromwell is dead. He shouldn't, and cannot, appear in the future—that's my only bottom line, Your Majesty."

"Alright, I promise you—I won't continue to make a fuss about that identity."

Hermione's lake-blue eyes met Nick's, and she nodded seriously.

Although she sells the school, starts group fights, commits financial fraud, and organizes illegal groups... Hermione knew that she was actually a kind and trustworthy girl. A Dark Lord would never stoop to deception, only despicable heroes would trample on contracts at will.

Of course, she could only make promises on her own behalf, which was perfectly reasonable.

"Thank you very much, so where do we start—"

Nick breathed a sigh of relief, but stopped halfway through his sentence.

Just then, a low rumble, like distant thunder, gradually rose, and the sound of hundreds of feet descending the stairs, along with the hustle and bustle of discussion, came from the corridor outside.

The Halloween feast upstairs had ended.

Half a minute later, Dumbledore appeared at the entrance of the hall, followed by many other teachers.

Behind the teachers were students from various houses, who were now curiously looking around.

As time went on, the news that the entire Gryffindor house was attending the "Deathday Party" had spread. Compared to Hogwarts' monotonous Halloween feast, the ghost party taking place in the underground classroom was like a cat scratching at their hearts.

Therefore, almost ninety percent of the students chose not to return to their dormitories after the feast.

With less than an hour before curfew, they could barely come and play for a while.

"Minerva, Severus, Filius, Pomona... I'll leave things here to you, pay attention to the time. Tonight is Halloween Eve, don't let the children go to bed unhappy—there are many guests, be polite, be enthusiastic—you certainly won't forget."

Dumbledore turned to the four house heads and said, with the last sentence directed towards the students not far away.

"Yay!"

"Awesome! Cool—"

"Yay, yay, yay!"

In the blink of an eye, the young wizards poured into the hall, curiously looking at and touching the diamond-like ice sculptures, or gathering by the dance floor to watch the Headless Hunt perform, or enjoying the ensemble of the sirens and goblins...

"What about you, Professor Dumbledore? Gryffindor doesn't need much attention. If you need—"

Minerva McGonagall stood at the door, not guiding the students into the venue like the other professors.

The Gryffindor students were already in the hall, and there were also two official professors from Gryffindor inside, so Professor McGonagall didn't need to conjure up extra tables, nor did she need to take the time to maintain order.

Dumbledore waved his hand and rubbed his forehead with a headache.

"It's alright, just a little something... discussing the ghost dishes. You are needed more here."

"Ghost dishes?"

"Yes, some of the dishes provided by the Hogwarts kitchen today allow ghosts to 'taste' the flavors. If there aren't enough professors to maintain order, I'm worried that there might be a situation where students and guests are fighting over the dishes later."

"...I understand."

Professor McGonagall glanced at the hundreds of ghosts gathered around the dining table and nodded woodenly.

Now she finally understood why Dumbledore announced the end of the feast half an hour early, hurriedly left the hall, and led them to the Deathday Party below. Sure enough, it was another "Katslana special" little thing?

If this matter wasn't handled properly, the subsequent impact would be no less than that mountain of gold a year ago.

Ghost dishes, delicacies that spirits can taste.

Once this news spread in the magical world, ghosts from all over Britain, all of Europe, no, even the world might gather at Hogwarts, eventually turning into—someday in the future, the castle would be filled with thousands of hungry ghosts.

Just imagining that scene was enough to make Professor McGonagall feel cold all over.

"Alright, Minerva... leave the rest to me, I'll find a solution."

Dumbledore sighed and turned to look at the white-haired furball who had been waiting obediently by the door.

"Miss Katslana, please come with me."

"Professor, I might not be able to explain this to you, after all, I'm just a chef."

Hermione spread her hands innocently, "You have to ask Sir Nicholas. If possible, I suggest you also call Professor Nicolas Flamel... He can answer some of the inspirations and things involved."

"Flamel?" Dumbledore's eyes flickered, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"I understand, let's go to my office first. As for Professor Flamel, I'll notify him—"

"The Hogwarts kitchen is the closest, Professor—just nearby—perhaps—"

"That's a better choice, thank you for reminding me, Head Chef." Dumbledore said.

After more than a year of getting along, Dumbledore had gradually begun to learn to discern some of Hermione's subtle emotions and movements.

Perhaps not so accurate in identifying lies, but some important nodes were still particularly clear—judging from the white-haired furball's confident expression, without a doubt, it was time for the showdown that Dumbledore was particularly familiar with.

……

When Hermione and the others walked into the Hogwarts kitchen, there was a sudden commotion inside.

Dumbledore saw that several house-elves seemed a little flustered. They didn't appear at the door to greet them as quickly as Dumbledore remembered, but instead looked around nervously while dealing with the cooking stations.

At this time, Hermione, who had stepped into the kitchen behind them, stepped forward and clapped her hands.

"Everyone, stop what you're doing, the dinner service for tonight is over."

"Oh no, the students just arrived at the Deathday Party not long ago..."

Dumbledore was stunned for a few seconds and couldn't help but remind the Head Chef in a low voice.

Just a few minutes ago, nearly a thousand students had just poured into the hall of the Deathday Party. Counting the time, many of them might not have had time to taste the first "ghost dish," not to mention the many ghosts still in line.

"I said—stop. The service for tonight is over."

Hermione glanced at the hesitant house-elves in the kitchen and repeated calmly.

"Five minutes, clean up the kitchen. We need a quiet space to talk."

"Yes, Head Chef!"

This time, a neat reply rang out in the kitchen.

Before Dumbledore could organize his words, all the flames on the cooking stations were extinguished, and the house-elves began to clean the kitchen with a clear division of labor. Burly, the head house-elf, stood by Hermione with a few glasses of lemonade.

"The Hogwarts kitchen only has two tasks today: the Halloween dinner and the Deathday Party."

Hermione turned around and patiently explained to Dumbledore.

"Roughly twenty minutes ago, you announced the end of the Halloween dinner service, and as the host of the Deathday Party—Sir Nicholas—left the hall, it also meant the end of the catering service for the Deathday Party. Besides, there aren't enough dishes."

"Dishes... not enough?"

Dumbledore looked at the surrounding cooking stations and asked politely.

"Miss Katslana, did we encounter any problems in the procurement process again?"

"Hogwarts' ingredients are enough to supply the entire school's consumption for a month."

Hermione said, blinking her eyes adorably, revealing a meaningful smile.

"But the Hogwarts kitchen can't continue with the ghost dishes—ghost dishes can only be cooked by wizards themselves, and the ingredients I pre-processed are limited—if we only supply the students and let the guests watch, I think it's too impolite."

"Similar to potions?" Dumbledore thought of the research project being carried out outside the school.

"Almost. Or rather, the reverse of potions, it doesn't have the ability to affect reality..."

Hermione shrugged, not surprised by Dumbledore's association.

The combined research on potions, chemistry, and alchemy was originally one of the key projects of the Academy City. Although only the "strong cold medicine," a semi-finished new drug, had been researched for the time being, strange by-products and theories had been produced a lot.

"This technique is not worth mentioning. Understand the essence of potion formation, be familiar with the cooking process—in other words, if Professor Snape were to take the helm, I think he could get started quickly. Professor Slughorn might have to learn how to cook first."

In fact, all she did was select some fermented, death-element ingredients for processing.

Just change your mindset, and any potion master can easily complete the transition.

"What about other wizards, such as seventh-years, or other professors?"

Dumbledore asked curiously.

"Maybe, it depends on individual talent and understanding—cooking is not difficult, like baking a potato..."

Hermione replied with a nostalgic smile, then raised her finger and said seriously.

"But how to strip away abstract meaning and concepts for dish enchanting, it seems that only potion masters can do it. Oh, and me. As for the reason for the formation of this dish, it's very simple: the Hogwarts kitchen promised to provide some food for the guests attending Nick's five-hundredth Deathday Party, so I just tried it out, and I didn't expect it to actually work."

"……Okay, I understand."

Dumbledore sighed helplessly.

Potion Master, just that one entry requirement blocked ninety-nine percent of wizards.

But in this way, he had a way to respond to the upcoming inquiries.

From the current situation, if a potion master was willing to condescend to cook food specifically for ghosts—cooking with the attitude and knowledge of brewing potions—it was likely that he could replicate the "ghost dishes" created by Hermione, the problem was...

Not to mention those established potion masters, even the more capable potion apprentices wouldn't go into the kitchen, would they?

Compared to the living, ghosts can provide too little reward for people.

"So, what do these have to do with Sir Nicholas, and Nicolas Flamel?"

Dumbledore looked at Hermione in confusion.

The vigilance in his heart had not disappeared because of this, but had become even more tense.

If this "ghost dish" was just a quest item that Hermione made casually, then there must be another reason why Hermione took on the commission to host the Deathday Party and invited the Gryffindor students to attend the party.

"Oh, of course there's a connection—a very close connection—"

Hermione said with a smile, turning her head to look in the direction of the door.

"Mr. Nicolas Flamel witnessed the most tragic war between the non-magical world and the magical world hundreds of years ago, and Mr. Nick temporarily ended that war... I thought you would know each other, it seems I guessed wrong?"

A gaunt, trembling white-haired old man appeared at the entrance of the kitchen.

"War? Non-magical world and magical world?" Dumbledore frowned.

And Nicolas Flamel also had the same dazed expression, which was in stark contrast to Nick, who was hesitant to speak on the side.

Hermione glanced at Nicolas Flamel, and Nearly Headless Nick, twitching her eyebrows playfully.

Undoubtedly, this was a secret that even Dumbledore didn't know.

As the most powerful wizard in the magical world today, Dumbledore might know many magical legends.

But his understanding of the non-magical world was ultimately too shallow, and it was impossible, had no reason, and no way to verify the authenticity of "Nearly Headless Nick's" life—this was still based on the traces found in Gringotts' "credit record."

"As you can see, this is the most common Tarot card—Mr. Flamel, you must be very familiar with it."

Hermione took out a set of incomplete Tarot cards from her chest, carefully picking through them.

The "Fool," "Magician," "Empress," "Hierophant," "Hermit," "Hanged Man," and "Tower" major arcana cards had already been selected. Fortunately, Hermione didn't plan to use this set of Tarot cards to predict the future.

As Hermione took out this set of Tarot cards, Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel's faces changed slightly.

This meant that a brand new O5 council-level member—witnessed by three official members, that was their original rule.

"Sir Nicholas, regarding your past experiences, I suggest you introduce yourself—don't worry, I remember what I promised you before—this is your new identity that distinguishes you from 'Nearly Headless Nick' from now on."

"After you complete your basic self-introduction, I will introduce the organizational process and structure to you in detail."

Hermione picked up a card and placed it gently on the flat table next to Nick, saying softly with a meaningful tone.

"This is a card that symbolizes permanence and continuous success. You have reached the front of the door of success, and the goddess of success asks you to wait patiently. She will let you enter the door of success, it's just a matter of time. Around the door of success are the happiness and sorrow, success and failure that you have experienced. It is necessary to recall the past before reaching the promised land."

"At the same time... it will also be your exclusive code name after you join us."

"So, let's begin. Za Warudo."

As a politician who had witnessed and facilitated the separation of the British magical world, religion, and the non-magical world, "Nearly Headless Nick" was much more decisive than some procrastinating spicy old radish after making up his mind.

Nick took a deep look at the 【World】 major arcana card and nodded calmly.

"More than four hundred years ago, at that time I wasn't called 'Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington,' most people called me by my name in the non-magical world—Thomas Cromwell..."

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Yay!!