36 Magic (1/2)
October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward.
Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds.
Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harry was never to be found. Ron was in the Common room playing wizards chess with Seamus and Dean. Arth and Hermione decided to take a trip to the library.
On their way there, they met a familiar ghost. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath, ”...don't fulfill their requirements...half an inch, if that...”
”Hello, Nick,” said Hermione.
”Hello, hello,” said Nearly Headless Nick, starting and looking round. He wore a dashing, plumed hat on his long curly hair, and a tunic with a ruff, which concealed the fact that his neck was almost completely severed.
”Is something bothering you?”
”Ah,” Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, ”a matter of no importance...It's not as though I really wanted to join...Thought I'd apply, but apparently I don't fulfill requirements...”
In spite of his airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness on his face.
”But you would think, wouldn't you,” he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, ”that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?”
”Uh...” Hermione turned to face Arth with a look that showed that she had no idea what to say.
”I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However-” Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously.
”We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.”
Fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away.
”Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Harry! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore.”
”I mean he has a point,” interrupted Arth. ”And I'm not saying that I think you aren't headless, I just think that you really can't participate in some of the activities.”
Seeing the furious look on Nick, Arth sighed.
”However, I think that I might be able help you with the nearly aspect of your headlessness.”
”What?” Hermione and Nick both stared at Arth with an incredulous expression.
”How are you going to help him? He's already dead? No offense Sir Nick.”
”None taken.” Replied Nick with a tip of his hat.
”Nick is a ghost, and he is intangible, you can't just rip his head off.”
As if an idea had just come to mind, Arth stared at Nick.
”Have you tried pulling your head off?”
”Why would I ever do that? I am a ghost! I am not like you living people who can tear off a piece of clothing off of yourself.”
”So did you try?”
”No. As I said, why would I ever try-”
”Then try, cant hurt can it? You are already dead.”
Nick rolled his eyes before pulling his left ear. His head came right off his neck, and when he pulled, the head... came off.
Just joking, of course it didn't, why would it? He was a ghost.
Annoyed, Nick threw his head back on and raised an eyebrow at Arth.