Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 214 The Headless Horseman

Harry moved closer to Henry and lowered his voice.

"Henry, after I finished my get out of class at the dueling club yesterday—"

"We'll talk about it when we get back," Henry interrupted him. "There are a lot of people here—and a lot of ghosts too."

Harry nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

But his eyes kept glancing in Henry's direction, as if he wanted to say something but dared not.

Ron wasn't so nervous. He had already found a table with several plates of snacks that didn't look too scary.

He picked up something that looked like a cookie, took a bite, and then his expression contorted.

"How is it?" Hermione asked.

"It doesn't taste like much," Ron said, taking another bite. "It tastes like eating chalk."

"Then don't eat it," Hermione said.

"No, I'm hungry," Ron said, continuing to eat the piece of chalk.

Just then, the band suddenly stopped playing.

The sound stopped abruptly, as if someone had grabbed the musician by the neck.

The violin's last note trembled in the air and then disappeared.

The flute's sound trailed off with a long, drawn-out note, and then it was gone.

Everyone in the underground classroom fell silent. The ghosts stopped moving, the wailing widows put down their handkerchiefs, and the knights sheathed their swords.

Everyone turned their heads and looked in the same direction.

A hunting horn sounded.

The voice was deep and resonant, echoing through the underground classroom and making the candles on the wall flicker.

"Oh no," Nick said painfully, his head suddenly sinking down as if something was pressing down on it.

Twelve ghostly horses suddenly emerged from the walls of the underground classroom. They were silvery-white and translucent; their hooves made no sound as they trod the ground, yet the ground trembled. Their manes billowed in the wind, their tails swished back and forth, and white mist billowed from each horse's nostrils.

Each horse has a headless rider dressed in various armors and uniforms, some in chainmail, some in plate armor, and some in red military uniforms.

Their heads were either tucked under their arms, hung on their saddles, or carried in their hands.

Everyone at the party applauded enthusiastically, and the ghosts clapped their hands together, making a hollow "clap-clap" sound, like two wooden planks colliding.

The wailing widows let out excited screams, and several knights whistled.

Harry started clapping too, but he quickly stopped when he saw Nick's expression.

Nick's face was as white as paper, even whiter than usual.

The twelve ghost horses ran to the center of the dance floor and suddenly stopped.

They first stood upright on their hind legs, kicked their front hooves, and emitted a silent neigh. Then they kicked their hind hooves and charged forward, turning in a circle on the spot, their movements perfectly synchronized, as if they had rehearsed countless times.

The dust kicked up by the horses' hooves drifted through the air, passing over the bodies of the ghosts.

At the very front of the horse was a large, monstrous ghost, dressed in a red military uniform with gold tassels and a row of medals hanging on his chest.

His head was tucked under his arm, and he had a thick beard and neatly combed dark brown hair. He wore an arrogant smile, as if he were mocking everyone present.

He jumped off his horse with the agility of a young man. He first raised his head high into the air so he could look down at everyone. Then, he turned his head and scanned the entire underground classroom.

Everyone burst into laughter. The ghosts laughed so hard they were doubled over, the weeping widows laughed until their handkerchiefs fell off, and the knights laughed until their armor rattled.

He strode toward Nick, who was nearly headless, casually shoving his head onto his neck as he went.

The head stood there crookedly, as if it were not placed steadily and might fall off at any moment.

"Nick!" he roared, his voice booming like a battle cry, "Are you alright? Is your head still hanging there?"

He let out a raucous, wild laugh that echoed through the underground classroom, shaking the dust off the walls. He reached out and slapped Nick's nearly headless shoulder hard, making Nick's whole body sink down and his head shake even more violently.

"Welcome, Patrick," Nick said curtly.

His neck was taut, and his head was trying to lift itself up, but it seemed to be held down by something.

Sir Patrick spotted Henry and his three companions at once. He feigned surprise and jumped high into the air, only to have his head fall off his neck and roll to the ground, landing at Harry's feet.

"A living person!" he shouted, his voice muffled but still loud, coming from the floor. "Nicholas, why did you invite a living person here? This is a death anniversary celebration, not a birthday party!"

Everyone burst into laughter, and the ghosts laughed so hard they could barely float.

Harry looked down at the head at his feet. Sir Patrick's head was tilted back, his eyes blinked, and his mouth opened into a bright smile.

"They're my friends," Nick said with a straight face, almost headless. "Oh, your performance was very funny."

Sir Patrick's voice came from beside Harry's feet, muffled but still loud: "Never mind Nick! He's still upset about us not letting him join the Hunters! But I have to say—look at this guy—"

'

He pushed his way through the crowd, squatted down, picked up his head from the ground with one hand, and held it up in front of Nick.

The head bobbed in front of Nick, looking him up and down at the head hanging around his neck.

"His head—" Sir Patrick's head addressed the surrounding crowd, "look, only a tiny piece of skin and flesh is holding it together. What do you call that? You call it almost headless. We, the Headless Hunters, want it completely headless. Not even a little bit. That's the rule, a rule that's been in place for seven hundred years."

Nick's face turned even paler. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't say anything.

"I think," Harry suddenly spoke, seeing Nick's pained expression, his voice a little loud, startling Ron beside him, "Nick is very—scary, and—oh one."

He got stuck, unsure of what to say.

"Ha ha!" Sir Patrick's head exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "I bet he told you to say that! This kid knows how to talk."

He shoved his head onto his neck, this time making sure it was straight and not crooked. He patted Harry on the shoulder, so hard that Harry swayed.

"Little friend, are you from Gryffindor?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"Gryffindor!" Sir Patrick exclaimed. "Good house! Godric Gryffindor is a good man. Though he doesn't like us ghosts, he's a good man."

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