Chapter 31: Conversation In The Headmaster’s Office
Evening time.
School Auditorium.
Professors sat at the high table having dinner, knives and forks clinking with crisp sounds, wine glasses clinking together, all sounds of friendly exchange.
Especially Professor Snape of Potions class and Professor Quirrell of Defence Against the Dark Arts, whispering quietly from time to time, exchanging glances from time to time, a scene of enviably friendly colleagues.
Owls’ wings fluttered rustlingly, flying through the skylights to land on the house tables,
Harry received a mysterious package, long and thin in shape, with a slender straight body and a bulging tail, wrapped tightly in brown paper, with a note stuck on the outside:
「Do not open, it contains a Lightwheel 2000, I don’t want everyone to know you have a new broomstick—Professor McGonagall」
Harry couldn’t contain his joy and handed the note to Ron.
“Lightwheel! 2000…” Ron shouted excitedly, suddenly realizing they were still in the auditorium, quickly lowering his voice, grinning from ear to ear, “This is a Lightwheel 2000, I’ve never even touched one, quickly put the letter away, don’t let others discover it!”
“Hehe…”
“Let’s go quickly.”
“Not having dinner?”
“Dinner? What dinner!”
Ron hugged the package and jumped off the bench, Harry followed behind, thought for a moment and came back, stuffing a few beef pies into his pocket.
The two hurriedly left the auditorium, wanting to take advantage of the sky not being completely dark yet, go to the Quidditch Pitch to find an empty spot to open the package, and if possible, fly a couple of laps.
“New broomstick new broomstick…”
“Lightwheel! Lightwheel 2000!”
“…”
Watching the two leave giggling foolishly, Seamus and Dean from the adjacent seats remained silent, glanced at each other, their expressions somewhat complicated.
It was clearly a dormitory for five people, yet they were excluded.
The two turned to look at Neville who was eating normally.
“…”
Neville had bread in his mouth, somewhat dazed, subconsciously looking toward Hermione.
Hermione pursed her lips, said nothing, silently lowered her head to cut her steak, focusing on her meal, her heart without the slightest ripple.
Boys are like that, most of the time their brains are just ornaments.
Yesterday, slightly provoked by Malfoy, they were tricked into agreeing to a midnight duel, these guys actually believed it, no matter how much they were advised they wouldn’t listen, insisting on participating in the duel, but the one who showed up wasn’t Malfoy from Slytherin, but Mr. Filch the caretaker.
If they hadn’t luckily shaken off the caretaker and that cat, they should have been expelled from school by now, already sitting on the return Express Train.
“…”
Recalling last night’s experience, Hermione slowly chewed her steak, the ferocious three-headed dog reappearing in her mind, and the trapdoor under the three-headed dog’s belly.
Why was there a three-headed dog in the school?
What was under the trapdoor that needed a three-headed dog to guard?
“No no, this violates school rules…”
Hermione shook her head quickly, shaking off the messy thoughts, but the curiosity in her heart kept popping up again after being suppressed, like the doll in a whack-a-mole toy.
Annoying, yet carrying an irresistible attraction.
“What exactly is inside?”
…
Night fell.
Melvin, returning late, carried two boxes of ice cream in his hand, one chocolate flavor, one lemon flavor, from Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour in Diagon Alley, professors get a discount with their face.
Out of the staircase turn right, walk straight along the corridor, stop in front of a huge monster statue, Melvin looked at the statue’s extremely ugly appearance, pondered slightly: “Cheese Snowy.”
The squatting statue jumped to the side in an unreasonably agile pose, the wall behind rumbled open, revealing a moving spiral staircase, the staircase operating automatically, somewhat like the escalator in a Muggle mall, but spiral-shaped.
Melvin stepped on the steps straight up to the Headmaster’s Office on the eighth floor, arriving in front of an oak door with a brass door knocker.
…
Night gradually deepened.
In the Headmaster’s Office reception room, tea steam rose from the table, the surface of the decorative silverware hazy with white mist.
A figure sat behind the desk, brows slightly furrowed, showing a contemplative expression.
Two translucent figures sat in front, presenting a hazy silver-white bluish color, the one on the left wearing a plain gray robe was the Grey Lady ghost, next to her the one with bloodstained chains wrapped around was the Bloody Baron, the murderer who killed the Grey Lady.
Fawkes curled up in the Sorting Hat’s nest, head resting on the hat brim, its round eyes staring at them, the crack in the Sorting Hat opened, shook gently twice, still not daring to speak.
This evening during dinner, Peeves caused trouble in the auditorium, chattering disgusting words like feces and urine, the students were grossed out but helpless against Peeves, fortunately Dumbledore quickly intervened to stop Peeves, but didn’t punish him, instead had Peeves deliver a message, inviting the two ghosts to visit the Headmaster’s Office.
The Grey Lady was extremely unwilling to be with the Bloody Baron, but out of respect for Dumbledore, she still agreed to come.
The Bloody Baron had been repenting for the events of that year, wishing to follow Helena at all times, hearing the Headmaster invite them both, he was actually somewhat pleased.
At this moment, the Grey Lady was answering the Headmaster’s questions about ghosts: “Wizards who still cling to the world after death, or harbor intense unresolved emotions, perhaps regret, perhaps unwillingness, unwilling to accept the reality of death… A wizard’s emotions and soul are magic power, this magic between life and death is even more wondrous, able to turn the soul into a translucent ethereal body, lingering in the places they frequented in life.”
Dumbledore frowned: “I’ve personally witnessed more than once many wizards dying with intense unwillingness, yet their souls did not linger.”
“This I don’t know either.” The Grey Lady’s voice was extremely light, her speech carrying melancholy, “Perhaps it has to do with the time of death, some people’s souls align with full moon magic power, some with waning moon magic power, others with solar magic power, needing to die at the right time to transform into ghosts;
“It might also relate to the location, some places inherently possess magic, like Moaning Myrtle who died in the school bathroom, Hogwarts’ magic power might have unintentionally helped her.
“These are just speculations, my mother’s speculations.”
The Bloody Baron remained silent.
“Did Rowena Ravenclaw really conduct research on souls?”
“None with definitive results.”
“Could a soul that has passed away many years ago still be transformed into a ghost?”
“I don’t know, there’s no such precedent in history.” The Grey Lady paused slightly, her translucent gaze looking toward this old Headmaster, wanting to say some advice, but unable to speak, turning only into a sigh.
Dumbledore picked up the cooled tea, took a sip, and said to them: “The above questions are just my personal curiosities, I called you here mainly regarding Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem.”
The Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron looked straight up at this old Headmaster: “You found the diadem?”
Dumbledore nodded: “Found it with Professor Levent’s help, in fact, the diadem had always been hidden in the castle. Forgive me for not being able to return the diadem temporarily, nor show it to you, it has been transformed by Dark Magic into some evil vessel, I haven’t found a way to cleanse the defilement yet.”
The two ghosts wanted to say more, when clear footsteps sounded from outside the office door.
“That’s all for today, I’ll notify you of any progress.”
“Please, Dumbledore.” The Grey Lady’s tone trembled slightly.
“Headmaster Dumbledore…” The Bloody Baron finally spoke, but didn’t finish his words.
Before floating out of the office, the Grey Lady suddenly turned back, eyes filled with sorrow and regret: “Ghosts are not a continuation of life, but a form of torture, Dumbledore, do not make a choice you’ll regret.”
“I understand…”
