Days at Hogwarts

Chapter 189 The Existence of Ghosts

"In the darkness, I yelled that I should straighten my teeth immediately, but the trial was so simple and brutal. They brought out the guillotine but forgot the whetstone. They usually sharpen the axe first..."

On stage, Nick's song was reaching its climax, and the ghosts listened solemnly.

But the saw-like background noise was really unsuitable for the ears of living people. Loren and Hermione couldn't hear the lyrics Nick was singing at all, so they preferred to observe the strange food on the table.

Although disgusting, Hermione's curiosity was like a cat's; if she didn't look closely, it felt like her heart was being scratched by claws.

She leaned closer to examine the meat-filled sheep tripe, just as the fermenting gas inside burst open one of the sacs, releasing an even stronger stench that filled her nostrils and made her face scrunch up.

Some maggots splattered onto the table, writhing and twisting. Hermione pulled Loren a little further away, afraid of accidentally getting any of the fallen maggots on her.

Loren watched her series of movements, struggling to suppress a smile.

The leader of the Headless Horsemen was near Loren and Hermione, and his slightly wistful voice reached their ears: "Oh, what a pity... but..."

He turned around and saw the two people, jumped back in shock, and landed on his head on the floor, shouting, "Living people?"

"Sir Patrick, hello," Loren greeted politely. "Nick mentioned the Headless Hunters to us."

"Hello." Hermione was behind him, curiously examining the severed head and neck of Patrick, trying to figure out why he had been decapitated.

"Ha, Nick!" Patrick's head boomed. "He's probably still brooding over us not letting him join the Hunters!"

Hermione peeked out from behind Loren, wanting to say a few words in Nick's defense: "I think Nick is practically headless now, just a bit of elastic tendons and skin left, so he can still do even more tricks."

She paused, then added, "And Nick is very scary."

Loren couldn't help but glance at Hermione helplessly. The second half of the sentence was what Nick had told her; the first half was what she wanted to say herself.

"Haha!" Patrick picked up his head from the ground. "I bet Nick told you to say that!"

After he put the head back on, he shook it, and it looked like it was about to fall off at any moment: "My rejection of him wasn't just about whether his head could be used as a ball, but more importantly, I didn't want to deepen Nick's attachment to the world."

"Longing?" Loren and Hermione looked at him in confusion.

"There are many reasons why ghosts are unwilling to accept death and remain in the world, but the essence is that they are attached to the world of the living and unwilling to leave."

Patrick pulled up his high collar to hold his head in place, preventing him from falling. "Nick felt his death was too absurd, too hasty, and unacceptable. There was also the fact that the glory of the Porpington family had not been passed down and carried forward, and he had not yet experienced the vast world. All sorts of messy and chaotic things constituted his fear of death and his attachment to the world of the living."

"Five hundred years have extinguished his fear, though he still cannot accept his absurd and hasty death. However, Henry VII has long since turned to ashes, and even the Tudor dynasty has perished. Sooner or later he will figure things out, and when that time comes, he will embark on a great adventure."

He looked at Nick singing on stage: "Joining the Headless Hunters will deepen his attachment to the living world, which is an obstacle for him."

Loren's mind raced through the images of every ghost he had ever encountered: Professor Binns, Ms. Grey, the Blood Man Barrow, and Moaning Myrtle. He was lost in thought, analyzing why they remained in the world of the living.

Hermione followed Patrick's gaze and saw Nick on stage singing with deep emotion, clearly enjoying the performance. She couldn't help but ask, "Why must we accept death? Isn't it better to stay in this world?"

Patrick gripped the reins of the ghost horse tightly, bent down and brought his head close to Hermione's face, saying in an icy tone, "Do you think being a ghost is a comfortable thing?"

"I can hear beautiful music, but I can't feel the emotions in the melody; I can see the changing seasons, but I can no longer appreciate the beautiful scenery."

This seemed to touch a raw nerve, and his speech gradually became more aggressive: "Not to mention that an empty body can't touch the real world; disgusting, rotten food, jarring, annoying music—all just to get a tiny bit of pathetic comfort!"

"Enough!" Loren pulled Hermione behind him, looking at him warily, and snapped, "Becoming ghosts was your own choice, so what are you complaining about now?"

Patrick calmed down and, with his eyes closed, began to breathe heavily on horseback. He couldn't actually feel the air, and the breathing didn't calm him; it was just a habit he'd carried over from when he was alive.

After a long while, he opened his eyes and said weakly, "I'm sorry, little wizards, I frightened you."

Loren didn't reply and walked away with Hermione.

Patrick stared blankly at their retreating figures, then scoffed at himself, "Yes, this is the coward's own choice..."

Hermione was still pondering the question from before, and after walking quite a distance in silence, she suddenly asked, "Do ghosts have no control over their emotions and are prone to breakdowns when provoked, like some kind of mental illness?"

Loren thought about it for a moment. Nick that night, the crying Myrtle, Patrick just now, and even Ms. Grey seemed to be the case.

"Professor Binns is different; he almost never loses his temper." He thought of a counterexample.

"He still throws tantrums." Hermione recounted something she'd heard during a late-night chat in the girls' dormitory: "George and Fred angered Professor Binns once. They replaced his lesson plan with 'The Quibbler,' and Professor Binns read it for a week before Percy found out. Penelope said Professor Binns's wrinkled skin puffed up with anger, and George and Fred were put in solitary confinement for a month."

Loren: "..."

What could he say, Niu Boyi, the twin brother?

"According to Patrick, becoming a ghost causes emotional disturbances. They can't smell, taste, or touch anything. This sensory depletion makes them depressed, irritable, and easily angered. These are symptoms of mental illness; they have mental illness."

"So Patrick's wish for Nick to accept death is indeed well-intentioned, but what happens to ghosts after they accept death? Do they go to another world?" Hermione looked at the room full of ghosts, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Loren didn't know either, but considering Dumbledore's attitude towards death and the existence of the dreamlike realm, it seemed that for wizards, there really was an afterlife.

As Nick's clear mixed tenor voice reached the end of his song, it became even more melodious and the pitch rose higher.

"I died just like that, but my loyal head..."

But no matter what, they refused to be separated from me.

It's still hanging there; my song ends here.

Now please applaud, otherwise it will be the biggest blow to me—”

As the song ended, Nick removed his head, ignoring the stretched skin and tendons, and bowed deeply, pressing the head to his chest.

In the dim and cold basement, only countless slender candles emitted a cold blue light. The ghosts, who also emitted a cold light, clapped and cheered loudly, their boisterous voices almost lifting the castle off its feet.

Loren watched the ghosts, watching them try to create a lively atmosphere, yet a chill lingered in the air. It was the chill of the magic candles, and the chill of the ghostly bodies.

"Who knows? Let's just live well," Loren said softly. He and Hermione were very close, able to feel each other's body heat in this cold place.

"Coo coo—"

"Gurgle—"

Hermione covered her stomach shyly, lowered her head to avoid his eyes, and whispered, "I thought there would be food at the banquet..."

Loren suppressed a laugh and pulled Hermione toward the edge of the stage: "Let's go say goodbye to Nick. There's still pudding to eat when we go back to the Great Hall."

Seamus and Dean are playing a game with Neville, passing through ghostly bodies. The ghosts strike all sorts of bizarre poses, and the three of them have to run as fast as they can to see who can pass through the most ghosts at the finish line.

Although they were so cold their teeth were chattering, all three of them were in high spirits.

"Harry and the others left a long time ago. You can go up first if you want. We'll go back when we're tired of playing." Neville waved his hand and hurriedly rushed into the ghost pile.

Loren and Hermione: ...

As they approached the edge of the stage, Lockhart was pestering Nick to talk about his new book about ghosts.

Lockhart, pen and paper in hand, gesticulated wildly as he exclaimed, "Lady Griff was a hidden werewolf. She was revealed by the full moon that night, which is why she grew terrifying fangs. To prevent you from revealing his werewolf army, the king had you executed the very next day."

Lockhart trembled with excitement as he said this: "This adaptation is fantastic! The new book is sure to be a bestseller!"

Nick shook his head impatiently: "How could a Muggle dare to associate with a werewolf? Don't try to twist my story!"

What's going on in this new Hogwarts professor's head? Water from the toilet bowl?

"Muggles can certainly contact werewolves! In fact... yes, yes... werewolf armies have been preserved to this day, and werewolves are still hidden in the Muggle world... Bates..." Lockhart's eyes grew increasingly fervent.

He's a bestselling author, and he knows how to resonate with his readers. With a few slight alterations, Nick's story could have tapped into what was once the most popular idea in the wizarding world—the Muggle threat theory.

By inciting conflict between Muggles and wizards and linking it to historical Muggle witch hunts, this book could become one of the best-selling books in decades. The recently enacted Anti-Werewolf Act also connects to its content.

As for this ghost, a simple forgetting spell and a false memory spell will make him cooperate obediently.

Altering memories from 500 years ago—this was a challenge he had never faced before. Lockhart's blood was boiling; even in the cold, ghostly banquet hall, he still felt his blood surging.

As soon as Loren approached, he heard Bates' name. He looked at Lockhart's barely contained excitement, his gaze colder than the temperature in the basement.

This new professor disgusted him; it seems the progress on the Oblivion Curse needs to be accelerated.

Nick, seeing Loren and Hermione, beamed with relief and cheerfully greeted them, "Hey, how was your evening?"

Hermione looked at Nick, then at Lockhart, and said, "The show was great, and the ghosts were interesting, but there wasn't any food for us, and we're a little hungry."

Nick patted his head, which wobbled slightly, and said regretfully, "It was my oversight; I forgot to prepare food for you."

"We're going back to get something to eat now, goodbye Nick!" Loren said, snapping out of his reverie.

Hermione and Loren walked upstairs side by side. "Did I just hear Lockhart say Grandpa Bates' name?"

"It's a coincidence, or maybe it's someone with the same name," Loren replied calmly, not wanting Hermione to worry. And there was no need to worry; he always learned spells very quickly. Once he learned the Oblivion Charm, he'd turn Lockhart into an idiot.

hall.

The lively atmosphere of the Halloween party was still lingering. The young wizards had long since eaten their fill, and some were chasing and playing in the Great Hall, while others were chatting at the long table.

The Skull Dance Troupe had already left, and when Loren and Hermione entered, they only saw some instruments made of bones still placed under the main seating area.

A violin made from a tibia, drumsticks made from a radius bone...

Loren thought the Skeleton Dance Troupe might be more suitable for the basement party; ghosts and skeletons sound like a perfect match.

Live bats fluttered about, resting inside the jack-o'-lantern and pecking at the sweet pumpkin flesh. Besides the jack-o'-lantern above the main table, George and Fred were throwing colorful firecrackers at the jack-o'-lantern hanging above Dumbledore's head, trying to blow it down.

Lockhart didn't attend the Halloween party, and no one inappropriately boasted; the atmosphere at the head table was joyful and harmonious. Professor McGonagall, in a cheerful mood, ignored the twins' reckless behavior.

Dumbledore stood up, his cheerful voice echoing throughout the Great Hall: "Finally, I have only one thing to say—Happy Halloween!"

As his blessing faded, the party came to an end. The house-elves stopped serving food, and the food on the long table vanished like popped balloons.

Loren patted the pudding, lamb pie, and chicken leg wrapped in brown paper in his pocket, feeling quite content. Hermione patted her already bulging belly, feeling satisfied both in her stomach and in her heart.

As the young wizards lined up to leave the Great Hall, a fast-running fourth-year Ravenclaw wizard rushed to the center of the Great Hall, his voice trembling with panic, and cried out, "Headmaster! Professor! Something's happened!"

For a moment, Loren felt that this scene seemed familiar.

Last Halloween, it was the same spot, and the words were almost identical, except it was Quirrell who was speaking.

The young wizards in the Great Hall followed closely behind the professor, and the professor followed closely behind Dumbledore. They hurried out of the Great Hall and went up the stairs to the third floor. They immediately saw that the end of the corridor was crowded with some of the young wizards who had come out of the Great Hall first.

The crowd parted to make way for those who came later, allowing them to see what was inside.

Harry and Ron stood frozen in the center, like prisoners. Beside them, Mrs. Lorris hung stiffly and motionless on a torch stand.

Between the two windows, on a wall a foot above the ground, some writing was scribbled, gleaming faintly in the light of the burning torches:

The secret room has been opened.

Be wary of those who oppose your heir.

I don't know how to set up a book club, so I'll just paste the group number here: 184361553

(End of this chapter)