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Halloween brought it's share of ghosts, Spidermans and one rather striking Larry J. Sabato. But Harry Potter? Sure, Potter was alive and well, but not nearly with the incredible force he had possessed in recent years. J.K. Rowling certainly deserved better. And so we had to give it to her.
The day was November 2nd, UVa's Lawn having already been looted and pillaged by the hordes of children it bore witness to each October 31st. The time was 6:00PM, the last rays of the sun dying out over the steps of the Rotunda. These last rays were enough to illuminate what the Rotunda helds in its Jeffersonian little belly, though. Potters. Harry Potters.
Forty of them.
After being presented with instructions, glasses, a wand, and a bag with some candy, the Potters donned towel capes and split into groups, roaming like packs of adolescent magical wolves. We descended upon the lawn with vigor, squeezing the last drops of candy from the unwilling Lawnies, showing the Muggles in Jefferson's hallowed households that Halloween wasn't quite over yet.
But it didn't stop there.
John T. Casteen III, President of the University, was probably feeling lonely. He was probably wishing that Halloween had never ended, that something would happen that would bring back the magic and light that spark in his eyes. Being the charitable Gryffindorians we are, we fled the Lawn and soon found ourselves at his presidential doorstep.
Also, he found us there, which was probably a little more shocking than us finding us there.
Being the prince that he is, Casteen rummaged through his house for candy, giving us all that was left in his house. With that, we turned walkingly down his sidewalk, until the crucial moment of "Disperse!" and then we each found ourselves each alone, each a single fleeing wizard, enchanted with the lingering spell of the flashmob.