Chapter 141: Thoughts On Souls
In the dim and cold underground classroom, although it was a Deathday party prepared by ghosts, house-elves were also invited to help with the decorations, providing special decorations and food. Special candles emitted candlelight colder than the night, illuminating maggot-ridden sheep’s stomachs, moldy cheese covered in green fur, and cakes shaped like tombstones of unknown material.
Besides the ghosts wandering the school, Nic also invited friends from out of town.
Every wizard in Britain had studied at Hogwarts. Although they no longer resided at the school after death, they all hurried back upon receiving the invitation, both to celebrate Nic’s five-hundredth Deathday and to reminisce about their school days.
For many ghosts, this was their first return to the school since graduation.
When alive, they were busy with life and had no time to return. After death, becoming ghosts, they had plenty of time, but it was hard to feel the emotions of the living upon returning.
The Deathday’s protagonist, Nic, was diligently greeting the passing ghosts. Everyone had arrived except the Headless Hunt. They excitedly returned to the inner area, only to find that the band had stopped playing at some point, the party had quieted down at some point, and the room was so silent that the breathing of the living could be heard.
The ghosts, usually howling and noisy nonstop, were gathered in a corner, silently listening to the young professor and a female ghost talking.
The translucent female ghost stood quietly by the window, her smooth long hair naturally draped down, her robe in a grayish-white cold tone, exuding the wisdom and elegance of Ravenclaw House.
“Professor, do you mean that I am not truly myself, but merely a magical creation that inherited memories from life?”
The Grey Lady’s voice was very soft, carrying a trace of sorrow.
Melvin shook his head: “I do not understand ghosts, nor the world after death. These are just wild thoughts from flipping through old magic books while researching soul magic. Lady, no need to take it to heart.”
“Perhaps you are right…” The Grey Lady’s face showed no expression, her translucent features carrying a faint sense of detachment.
Thinking of something unknown, she looked at the young professor: “My mother… The four founders also explored souls and the world after death during their lives. With their wisdom and talent, they each made different discoveries in these fields, but they ultimately chose to accept death calmly, leaving no magical portraits.”
Melvin nodded; he had also noticed this: “Even the Sorting Hat left by Gryffindor merely imbued this hat with the thoughts and spirits of the four houses, not memories.”
Even Slytherin, the most mysterious of the four giants, showed the demeanor of a legendary wizard when facing death.
He could breed and hatch a basilisk, proving deep research into Herpo’s dark magic, and of course he had encountered Horcruxes, but he did not choose that path.
“…”
The Grey Lady nodded slightly, her posture reserved, revealing a faint, barely perceptible pride.
“I happen to know some research content that might help you, Professor Levent.” At that moment, a low and hoarse voice suddenly sounded from nearby, and another ghost figure floated forward.
Harry and the others only felt a chill in their bodies, like falling into the frozen Black Lake, then quickly being fished out by the Giant Squid.
“It’s the Bloody Baron,” Ron said, trembling.
Hermione looked up at the Slytherin ghost.
The translucent blue figure had broad shoulders and a gaunt build, a pale and haggard face, brows always slightly furrowed with suppressed pain, dressed in medieval noble attire: tight-fitting shirt, trousers, cloak, and a bloodstained chain, inspiring fear at first sight.
As soon as the Bloody Baron approached, the Grey Lady immediately floated up, her illusory figure passing through the stone wall and disappearing from the Deathday party.
The bloodstained ghost sighed, the gloomy atmosphere around him growing heavier. He did not chase after her as usual, but whispered a few words to Melvin, entrusting him with the Grey Lady’s research.
After speaking, Baron asked somewhat dazedly: “Professor Levent, does the world after death really exist?”
A millennium had passed, yet he still remembered Rowena Ravenclaw lying on her sickbed, entrusting him to bring Helena back. Such a great witch, even if unable to cure the illness, could delay death, but she did not even wait for his return; mother and daughter did not even have time to say goodbye.
Such a heartbreaking regret, and yet Rowena Ravenclaw left no ghost.
So many legendary wizards with exceptional talents chose to face the afterlife calmly, which made him harbor a trace of doubt.
If ghosts were truly just magical creations inheriting a wizard’s memories, had the true wizard souls already departed, and had Helena and Rowena Ravenclaw already reunited in that world?
“You shouldn’t ask me this question. You are the one who has experienced death; you should have your own answer.”
Melvin answered patiently: “They say ghosts are souls unwilling to move on, lingering in the world out of fear of death, but Mr. Baron clearly is not afraid of death. Why you linger at Hogwarts, you know best yourself.”
Baron and the crowd of spirits in the classroom fell into contemplation.
Many among them were not truly afraid of death. Having been ghosts for so long, they had almost forgotten the reasons they initially refused to accept death.
Regrets, unwillingness, attachments… all had dissipated in the long river of years.
Melvin looked up at the dazed bloodstained ghost and paused: “But I can answer this question. The afterlife truly exists. Wizards who die normally pass through a transit called the Veil of Illusion, and by following the illusion onward, they can reach the afterlife.”
A glint of silver light appeared in Baron’s hollow eyes: “How to get there?”
“Wizards can reach it through death. How ghosts get there… I cannot tell you.” Melvin’s tone was also full of uncertainty. “Perhaps you do not need to seek it, or cannot find it. The Veil of Illusion is not a real place; what you should seek is your own path.”
“My own path…”
The Bloody Baron murmured the words repeatedly, his figure floating away, passing through the wall and quietly disappearing.
The other ghosts repeated this phrase, surging toward the young professor.
The three little wizards watched silently from the side, seeing them converse and question, mainly the ghosts asking about the afterlife and the existence of the Veil of Illusion. The professor could provide no answers, only saying it was from ancient wizard records he saw in some book in the library, unclear on the specific book’s name.
Occasionally, Melvin took control of the topic. Given that wizards had no detailed and specific definition of the soul, he first explained Muggle understanding of the soul: “Muggle philosopher Plato believed the soul consists of three parts, responsible for reason, passion, and desire respectively. Reason corresponds to wisdom, handling thought, decision-making, and pursuit of truth.”
A Ravenclaw ghost said: “Sounds like the spirit of Ravenclaw.”
Melvin nodded: “Passion involves emotion, sense of honor, and courage.”
“A bit like a combination of Gryffindor and Slytherin spirits,” Nic said.
“Desire drives basic needs, eating and sleeping, enjoying music, appreciating beautiful things.”
“Can be seen as Hufflepuff’s character.”
Melvin explained patiently, then posed a question: “Ghosts inherit memories from life but cannot learn new magic or knowledge; they have abandoned wisdom. Over long years, passion fades, personalities change, some ghosts even become obsessive and irritable. As for former preferences, having lost senses like taste and touch, are your current preferences the same as in life?
“If given another chance at Sorting, which house do you think you would be sorted into?
“Do you in this state truly retain the souls of the past?”
Most ghosts could not answer, falling into silence.
When the Headless Hunt rode spectral horses through the stone wall and charged in, they saw this quiet scene.
The ghosts in the room exchanged glances and stood stunned in place, looking at the things on the table with complex, inscrutable expressions, wanting to approach but hesitating. The musicians looked at their eerie, terrifying musical saws, their gazes filled with wistful nostalgia.
Patrick handed over his head and heard one of them murmur: “When we were alive, we played violins…”
Even the Deathday’s host, Nic, who was eager to join the group, stood stunned in place, gazing at the words spelled out in tarry icing on the cake, lost in a daze:
「Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington
Died 31st October 1492」
……
Ten o’clock at night.
Melvin bid farewell to Nic and returned to the Great Hall. The Halloween banquet had not fully ended, and he caught the last fruit pudding.
Since tomorrow was a weekend with no classes, Dumbledore suggested extending lights-out slightly. The deputy headmaster had a few extra drinks tonight; Professor McGonagall, with a slightly flushed face, said nothing. The students made noise until midnight before returning to their common rooms under the organization of their house prefects.
Melvin followed at the end of the Ravenclaw line.
It caused a slight stir. After soothing the anxious Marietta and asking about the Drama Club’s recent situation, and chatting with Muggle Studies students about their theses, the little wizards crowding around him quickly dwindled.
The Ravenclaw Common Room was in a tower on the castle’s perimeter. To enter, one must correctly answer the logical riddle posed by the eagle-shaped bronze door knocker; this was a rule set by Ravenclaw herself, as she believed it safer than specific words.
Ravenclaw students all believed themselves exceptionally wise, but occasionally some could not answer, and had to slip in behind other classmates.
But this was very embarrassing.
Besides Professor Flitwick, other professors rarely visited the Ravenclaw Common Room, so they seldom saw them solving the bronze door knocker’s riddles. The little wizards were all looking forward to Professor Levent’s performance, and even more so if he got stumped.
Arriving before the circular archway, the little wizards stopped of their own accord, silently looking toward the young professor at the end of the line.
Melvin looked at these expectant young faces and found it amusing; many were familiar faces: Penelope, Roger, Cho, even Marietta, who usually dared not look directly at him, was peeking quietly.
It seemed he still needed to wait for a holiday to conveniently probe Ravenclaw’s research.
But he did not turn to leave.
“Since we’re here…”
Melvin still stepped forward to the archway and knocked on the bronze door knocker.
A indifferent female voice sounded: “I exist in everyone’s heart, yet no one can possess me alone. The larger I am, the more I am shared with others, and the more I grow. What am I?”
Melvin pondered for a few seconds: “Knowledge.”
With a click, the archway opened.
Pausing at the common room entrance without stepping inside, Melvin prepared to step aside when he heard cheers and whoops from the students behind. After a moment’s thought, he pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket, tapped it lightly with his wand, and stuck it to the door.
Once the professor left, the Ravenclaw students eagerly crowded around and saw a riddle left on it:
「The Ship of Theseus is a ship that gradually ages over time. To keep it sailing normally, sailors continuously replace its wooden planks, masts, ropes, and other parts until all original parts are replaced with new ones. Question: Is this ship with all parts fully replaced still the original Ship of Theseus? If not, at what moment did it lose its original identity?」
……
“Mount my steed and charge!”
“Farewell, my comrades!”
“If you need a noble heart and steel-like muscles, don’t forget to call Sir Cadogan!”
In the large Muggle Studies classroom, the Drama Club was rehearsing. Drawing from the pre-death experiences of ghosts and portraits throughout the school, they ultimately chose the story of Sir Cadogan, which could showcase unstoppable courage.
“Everyone says I got into the Knights of the Round Table through my connection with Merlin! But my courage will prove that this knight’s seat was won by my own efforts! Two-legged Dragon, you fire-breathing beast, prepare to die, I’m coming! My heart burns with fearless fighting spirit!
“Oh no, disaster! My wand, blackthorn wood with giant’s whisker core, nine inches long, has been burned to ash by your flames! My warhorse has been swallowed by you in one bite!
“Though my armor is broken, my lance snapped, my wand destroyed, my warhorse gone, I will never retreat!
“Come on, roadside grazing pony, together we’ll charge at that evil two-legged dragon!”
“…”
Marietta and Neville guarded the perimeter, watching the already quite polished performance, a sense of accomplishment welling up, their expressions carrying a bit of small pride.
“I think we can report to the professor. What do you say, Neville?”
“Yeah!”
This was all something they had built up bit by bit, without relying on the professor at all!
At that moment, a figure pushed open the classroom door from outside.
Before even approaching, the Drama Club students felt somewhat dazzled. Bright golden wavy hair combed impeccably, ornate blue robe with gleaming buttons, leather boots shining.
Lockhart flashed his signature perfect smile, revealing a mouthful of flawless, neat, dazzling white teeth: “I heard you’re looking for good stories, yes?”
“…”
“A story of a knight who wins miserably against a two-legged dragon by shouting slogans and relying on coincidences—how can it compare to a seasoned adventurer using wisdom and courage to defeat dark creatures and protect villagers? Stories like that, I have five right here.”
“This…”
“The story’s firsthand experiencer is available anytime for consultation and guidance, with a vast base of original fans. I can also contact many reporter friends to ensure your play performance is popular.”
“Professor, we…”
“Your Drama Club’s Professor Levent also has ideas for collaborating with me.”
Seeing Marietta show a hesitant expression, Neville stepped forward proactively and pushed Lockhart toward the door: “Sorry, professor, our script is already set.”
“Bang!”
Lockhart looked at the heavily shut classroom door, his face flushing red with anger.
The Drama Club matter had been announced early, but he thought it was just Melvin’s little game to train students. He hadn’t expected them to actually make a splash. Considering the possibility of appearing on the Projection Mirror, he was willing to provide guidance for free, but these students actually refused!
Lockhart planned to directly approach the heads of the Drama Club and Magic Mirror Club.
