Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 140: Dialogue with Ghost
"We won! Harry, we won!"

"You flew so well, catching the Snitch at the last moment."

"You didn't see Malfoy's expression. He looked like he wanted to kill someone."

"..."

A clean and tidy hospital bed was placed in the middle of the infirmary ward. The Quidditch teammates surrounding the bed had not had time to change out of their robes. Their faces were flushed by the gold and red cloaks. There were also Ron, Seamus, Dean and others.

George and Fred brought candy and pumpkin juice and were planning a happy celebration party.

First-year Colin could only stand on the periphery. More than a dozen people crowded the narrow ward, holding cameras bigger than their heads, capturing the smiles on their faces and taking a picture of Madam Pomfrey's livid face at the door.

Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, had just gone out to prepare some medicine. When she came back with the bone spirit on the silver tray, she couldn't squeeze in.

"Merlin, are you going to rip the ceiling off the infirmary?"

Madam Pomfrey roared, "Get out! Everyone out! The child needs to rest. He has 33 bones to grow!"

In this room, the school doctor's power is greater than that of the headmaster. Even Professor McGonagall has to give way. A group of students put down their candies and pumpkin juice and left the ward in shame.

"That's outrageous! He was just discharged from the hospital this morning, and he's back again just a few hours ago. What's wrong with young wizards these days? In my opinion, Quidditch should be cancelled. This sport is too dangerous. Minerva and the others didn't know how to take proper precautions..."

Madam Pomfrey muttered to herself as she poured a bottle of Bone Spirit into his mouth. The liquid seemed to burn, spicy and hot, choking Harry and making him cough repeatedly. He drank half a cup of pumpkin juice in one breath before he felt better.

"Get some rest. Growing bones is not pleasant." Madam Pomfrey finished the examination, packed up the tray and left. "I'll be outside. Call me if you need anything."

In a blink of an eye, Harry was the only one left in the ward. He lay on the bed and looked at the ceiling quietly. He thought that Madam Pomfrey was right. It was really uncomfortable to have bones. His arms were soft and weak, and the slightest movement would cause a knife-like pain.

"Damn it, who cast the spell on the Bludger?"

This morning's game was very tense. Due to Slytherin's aggressive tactics, the Bludger was tampered with, causing them to fall behind in the early stages. The situation on the field was not optimistic at the time. He was eager to end the game and ignored everything. In the end, when he caught the Golden Snitch, he was knocked off his broom by the Bludger.

Malfoy threatened to fight him fairly before the game, so it shouldn't have been him.

Who else will it be?
Slytherin players don't seem to be good people.

With such resentment in his heart, Harry gradually fell into a deep sleep.

"what!"

Harry sat up suddenly, thinking it was the pain in his arm that woke him.

The dim night light shone into the ward, making it blurry and unclear. My arms felt as if they were being pricked by needles, and the room was so quiet that I could hear my pounding heartbeat.

Then he felt someone gently wiping his forehead with a wet cloth in the dark.

Harry asked dazedly, "Is that Madam Pomfrey?"

"What's wrong?" a slightly shrill voice replied.

"It's okay, I had a dream..." Harry answered subconsciously. He felt his throat a little dry and a layer of cold sweat on his body. He took the cup handed to him by the figure in the dark and gulped down half of it. When he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he found that the figure next to him was very strange.

"Who are you?" Harry quickly recognized the mysterious visitor and shouted, "Dobby!"

With a snap of fingers, the light at the head of the bed in the ward came on, illuminating the face of the house-elf.

Its body shape is similar to that of the goblins in Gringotts, only about two to three feet tall, but it is thinner, with gray-green skin that has a pale and wrinkled texture. Compared to its thin and short body, its head appears too large, with two round green eyes that are particularly prominent. Its nose is long and sharp, like a woodpecker's beak, and its ears are shaped like bat wings, large and thin, and look a bit funny when they flutter slightly.

During the summer vacation, it was it that broke into the Dursleys' house and caused Uncle Vernon to lock him up. If it weren't for Ron and the others' help, he might still be imprisoned now.

Harry was a little annoyed. He hadn't even settled the score with it yet, and it still dared to come to Hogwarts!

Dobby stared at him, tears overflowing from his eye sockets and rolling down his long nose. He sobbed and said, "Harry Potter returned to school after all. He didn't listen to Dobby's warnings and didn't even catch the train. Why didn't he go home?"

"How do you know I missed the train?"

Harry was stunned for a moment, looking at its guilty and self-blaming expression. A thought flashed through his mind, and he felt a little unbelievable: "You did it! You sealed the platform!?"

It is difficult for house-elves to lie, and they cannot help but punish themselves when they feel guilty. In just a few words, Harry learned the truth. It was it that blocked the platform in the first place, and it was also the culprit that caused the Bludger to go out of control today!

The reason for all this is that it worships itself and wants to save itself.

"There is a conspiracy, sir. Something terrible is about to happen at Hogwarts." Dobby said in a trembling tone, "Someone has made a deal with the professors in the castle. The Dark Lord's relics have been brought into the castle. History is about to repeat itself, and someone will be hurt."

Dobby finished all this in one breath, a look of horror on his face. He then grabbed the water glass on the bedside table and slammed his head hard, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Revealing the Master's secret! Disloyal house-elf!"

Harry was stunned. The house-elf in front of him was hurting itself without mercy, as if he was going to smash his head in. He quickly reached out to stop it.

Grabbing the water glass with one hand and holding its wrist with the other, Harry thought for a moment and asked tentatively, "Who is that? And who is the professor who made the deal?"

"Dobby can't say it, sir, Dobby absolutely can't say it..." Dobby's ugly head kept shaking, twitching like a man with epilepsy. Just when it was about to hit its head against the cabinet, it suddenly froze in place and looked at the corridor outside the door.

Familiar footsteps came closer and then slowly moved away. It must be Madam Pomfrey patrolling the night.

"Dobby has to go!"

After a loud explosion of air, the house-elf disappeared from where it was.

"..."

Harry stared blankly at the dim ward, leaning against the head of the bed, thinking about what Dobby had just said.

A dark wizard made a deal with the school professor, brought Voldemort's relics back to the school, and murdered the students in the school... Harry remembered the scene he saw in Borgin and Burke's.

Could it be Professor Lewinter?

Obviously not, Professor Lewynter encouraged them to investigate the truth and restore Hagrid's reputation. He also accompanied them to the spider's nest and rescued them from the spider's mouth.

Could it be Lockhart, the new guy this year?
Very likely, but he's a fool, who would make a deal with him?

What are Voldemort's relics?
To murder whom?
The more Harry sorted out his thoughts and tried to analyze the truth, the more questions popped up. In the end, his head hurt so much that he couldn't even care about the growing pains of his bones.

...The next morning, after being discharged from the hospital, Harry found Ron and Hermione having breakfast in the Great Hall and eagerly relayed the news he had heard from Dobby.

"Hermione, Ron, which professor do you think might have made a deal with a dark wizard outside the school to murder students in the school?" Harry asked in a low voice, quietly glancing at the professors in the guest of honor seats.

"Need I say more? It must be the old bat!" Ron answered without hesitation.

Hermione's delicate brows furrowed tightly as she mentally sorted through the information, but it was like the silk of an eight-eyed spider, layer upon layer, and she couldn't figure it out no matter how hard she tried.

They finished their breakfast without any appetite, and until they left the auditorium, they still hadn't figured out any useful clues.

Hermione planned to go to the library to try her luck by running into a certain unscrupulous professor, while Harry and Ron planned to go back to the common room to finish their homework. They were obviously spending the weekend together, so I really don't know how Hermione finished her homework.

Just as the three of them said goodbye at the stairs, a translucent illusory head hung down from the ceiling: "Harry, dear Harry..."

Ron stared at the head in horror.

"Nick! Are you going to scare the shit out of me that I just ate breakfast?"

"Hey, hey..." Nearly Headless Nick passed through the wall and floated in front of the three people, his smile a little awkward. "Halloween is coming soon, and it's also my 500th death anniversary. I'd like to invite you to my death anniversary party."

"?"

The three young wizards opened their eyes wide.

……

May 10th, evening.

Tomorrow is Halloween, and it is also the 500th anniversary of Ghost Nick's death.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington served as a wizard in the Muggle court at the end of the 15th century before the Statute of Secrecy was enacted. When he was fixing the teeth of a nobleman, he made a mistake in casting a spell, causing Lady Grieve to grow fangs, and was sentenced to beheading.

He was caught on the spot by palace guards and his wand was confiscated, leaving Popington unable to resist and escape, and he died in despair.

Even more unfortunate was that the executioner's axe was blunt and rusty, and failed to chop off his head completely, leaving a layer of sticky flesh, which prevented him from joining the Headless Hunters. From then on, he was nicknamed Almost Headless Nick.

Time has no meaning to ghosts, and they generally do not celebrate their own death anniversaries, but this year happens to be the 500th anniversary. Nick wants to take this opportunity to show himself and try to pass the review of the Headless Hunter Team.

There are two Halloween dinners at Hogwarts this year, one is a normal dinner for teachers and students in the hall, and the other is a ghost party underground.

Gryffindor table.

Harry sat at the table, took a spoonful of pudding and put it in his mouth, savoring it while looking at the decorations of the Great Hall.

The auditorium was decorated like in previous years. A half-hidden full moon was visible from the magic dome, live bats and candles were floating in the air, and giant pumpkin lanterns were placed in the corners. Next door, Justin and Ernie were discussing the performance of the Skeleton Dance Troupe tomorrow night.

Harry regretted accepting Nick's invitation. He turned to look at his two friends and asked, "Why did we agree to attend Nick's death anniversary?"

Ron raised his hand: "I'm going to go gather ideas for the script."

Last week, they dragged him to the lair of the eight-eyed giant spider to die, and he missed the interview for the drama club. He had to persuade and plead to get an opportunity. If he could help write a script that would satisfy the professor, Neville would recommend him for a re-interview.

There must be many stories about the Deathday party where ghosts gather.

Hermione was equally excited: "There must be very few living people who have attended such a party. This is a very rare and wonderful experience!"

"Ugh……"

Harry sighed, feeling that the pudding was bland.

……

At seven o'clock in the evening, a unique ghost party quietly began in the underground classroom of Hogwarts Castle.

The party venue was decorated to imitate an auditorium, but the auditorium was decorated in warm colors, while here it was all cold colors. Hundreds of candles burned quietly, releasing a dim blue glow, making the underground seem even more eerie. The firelight had no temperature, and the air became colder the further in one went.

The Ghost Band plays all kinds of uncomfortable sounds: the sound of nails scraping on a blackboard is the prelude, with the creaking of spikes scratching on glass added as a mix, bones being crushed inch by inch instead of drums, and the cries of howling banshees used as harmony.

It was horrifying to hear.

"Welcome! Welcome... my dear friend!"

Nearly Headless Nick stood at the door to greet guests, bowing and inviting them in.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione clutched their coats tightly, trying their best to force out polite smiles. Their breath formed white mist as they trembled as they walked into the venue, only to find it filled with hundreds of translucent ghosts dancing waltz to strange music.

Just as they were about to find a place to hide, Hermione saw an unexpected figure out of the corner of her eye and quickly turned around, pulling her two friends over.

Harry and Ron whispered, "Professor Lewynter?"

Melvin turned around when he heard the voice, nodded and smiled at them, and then continued to talk to Ms. Grey about the previous topic:
"Wizard portraits are magically created artworks that mimic the personality, behavior patterns, and partial memories of the person they portray. They can interact with people, speak, sing, tell jokes, and even offer advice. However, portraits lack independent consciousness, cannot form new memories, and possess no emotional depth, so they are not truly alive."

The three little ones lowered their heads and huddled behind the professor. Harry and Ron were dizzy and Hermione couldn't follow the thoughts.

Ms. Grey frowned and nodded slightly, maintaining due respect for the young professor who had regained his crown. "We've been talking about portraits for ten minutes, but I'm sorry, Mr. Lewynter, I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"I mean……"

Melvin looked into her eyes and asked, "Can a ghost, as the incarnation of a wizard after death, be seen as another form of portrait?"

Seeing that the female ghost seemed a little unhappy, he apologized and explained: "No offense, this is just a personal idea that came to me while studying magic recently."

Ms. Grey's transparent, crystal-blue eyes shone with a strange brilliance, and she nodded for him to continue.

"They retain some of their memories, personalities, and emotions from their previous lives, and can interact with the living. However, they cannot learn new magic or touch physical objects, and can only linger in the places they walked before. Their personalities have changed due to regrets, and some ghosts have even become extreme and irritable..."

"This makes me very curious. Are ghosts really the souls of wizards?" Melvin paused. "Or are ghosts, like portraits, just a part of the wizard left in the world, while the true soul has already left."

(End of this chapter)