Chapter 140. Ghosts' Gathering — About the Diadem
Mid–to–late October.
Perhaps because Hallowe'en was approaching, the ghosts in Hogwarts Castle had been more active than usual lately; every so often, a translucent figure drifted along the corridors.
Even Peeves had stepped things up. He wasn't a ghost, of course, but his pranks had become even more frequent.
Adrian Wesson was convinced there was something wrong with Peeves's head.
Every time the poltergeist played a trick, Adrian gave him a proper thrashing, yet the fellow seemed addicted to it, forever finding new ways to pester him.
Take now, for instance. Adrian had just stepped out of his office when a bucket of unidentified green slime came crashing down from above.
He twisted aside nimbly. The slime splattered across the floor, releasing a pungent stench.
"Missed—what a pity!" Peeves somersaulted in mid-air and shouted, "Should I swap to goose eggs next time, hahahaha—"
Adrian drew his wand without a change of expression.
With a murmured incantation, a whip leapt from his wand and hung in the air.
It cracked with a shrill whistle; Peeves shrieked and tumbled about, dodging it.
After being toyed with for a bit, the poltergeist shot off like a streak.
He might have fled briskly, but Adrian knew Peeves would be back to bother him before long.
The fellow really did seem… addicted.
A few seconds after Peeves left, a spectral figure dropped down through the ceiling.
It was a ghost with an arrow stuck in his forehead.
Seeing the green slime on the floor, the ghost brightened. "I've found the Hallowe'en soup!"
"Hallowe'en soup?" Adrian looked at the mysterious green slime, then at the ghost. "You don't mean this."
"Of course!" the ghost replied proudly. "It's my special recipe—just a touch of souring sheep's milk, a lump of cobwebs… and then leave it somewhere dark and damp for a whole week!"
Adrian's brow furrowed at once.
The stuff sounded… flavourful.
Catching his look, the ghost chuckled. "I know what you're thinking. I used to be a wizard myself, you know, until I caught an arrow in the head—perfectly ordinary for a ghost—well, I'd love to go into detail, Professor, but I suppose I should be off."
Yet he hovered, unmoving.
"Something the matter?" Adrian asked, when the ghost didn't budge.
Scratching at the arrow in his forehead, the ghost said awkwardly, "Could I trouble you to pour the soup back into the bucket and take it to the dungeons? You know how it is—ghosts can't touch anything."
Adrian had no choice but to spare a moment to help the arrow-headed ghost.
When he carried the soup down to the dungeon the ghost had mentioned, he was surprised to find a whole crowd of ghosts already gathered there.
Ordinarily, ghosts didn't assemble like this.
"Welcome, Professor Wesson. We're discussing the Hallowe'en feast," said Nearly Headless Nick, drifting over to explain. "It's my five-hundredth Deathday that night—every ghost in Hogwarts will be attending! Ah, except perhaps the Bloody Baron… that's just the way he is… frightfully unsociable… but I'll see to him. Besides that, I've invited quite a number of ghosts from elsewhere."
Adrian glanced around. The dungeon was crammed with all sorts of ghosts.
There were plenty of familiar faces, too: the Fat Friar, Moaning Myrtle…
And Peeves, who had slipped in among the ghosts as well.
"Then I wish you all the best."
With that, Adrian turned toward the door.
To be honest, being hemmed in by so many ghosts was unnerving.
He was used to their presence, but a ghost brushing through him now and then still left him chilled to the bone.
"Wait!"
Nearly Headless Nick floated into his path, sounding rather proud. "It's my five-hundredth Deathday, sir. Would you care to attend my party? One doesn't often get the chance, you know."
"I'll pass, Nick," Adrian replied at once.
He was very much alive, and he had no desire to attend a party for the dead.
"Are you quite sure?" Nick seemed unwilling to give up.
"I must decline," Adrian said, heading for the door.
Even after he stepped out of the dungeon, he could faintly hear the ghosts' chatter.
"Told you you hadn't a chance, Nick—no living person would ever want to—"
"Nonsense! I'll have a living guest there. If the other ghosts learn there was a living person at my Deathday party, they'll be green with envy…"
Adrian had never been to a ghostly banquet, but he was certain it wouldn't be a pleasant scene.
As he recalled, in the original events, Harry and his two friends had accepted Nick's invitation and slipped into the party.
Hmm… that experience couldn't have been very good.
Perhaps he should give Harry and the others a word of warning, tell them not to accept Nearly Headless Nick's invitation.
Mulling this over, Adrian climbed the stairs away from the dungeon.
At the bend in the corridor, he spotted another familiar spectral figure.
"Hello, my lady," Adrian greeted.
The Grey Lady noticed who had spoken and paused—well, right, she didn't have feet.
In any case, she came to a halt before Adrian.
"Good morning, Professor Wesson," she answered with elegant composure.
They had exchanged greetings, but there wasn't much else for them to talk about, so Adrian was about to take his leave.
Her next words stopped him.
"Professor Wesson," she asked calmly, "is Ravenclaw's—my mother's—diadem in your possession now?"
Adrian looked at the Grey Lady in surprise.
Seeing his expression, she offered a friendly smile. "It seems you haven't read my mother's letter. In it, she said that whoever delivered the letter to me would be the one holding her diadem."
"The diadem is indeed with me," Adrian said, nodding, frankly admitting it. "It's in my storage at the moment. Do you wish to reclaim it? I can return it at any time."
The Grey Lady shook her head, a complicated light passing through her silvery eyes. "No, sir. The diadem has no use for me. As you can see, I am only a ghost now."
There was a faint sadness in her voice.
"Very well," Adrian replied casually. "Perhaps one day I'll present it to a Ravenclaw… or return it to Hogwarts."
"Wait!" The Grey Lady's face showed surprise. "You haven't worn the diadem yourself?"
"Of course I tried it," Adrian said, shaking his head. "But it isn't for me. Wisdom is intoxicating—but it can ensnare as well."
"You are certainly not a Ravenclaw," the Grey Lady pronounced.
"I'm Hufflepuff," said Adrian.
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