Chapter 174: Nearly Headless Nick (Edited)

With the end of the game, Tom's fourth act of the anniversary also ended completely, and he managed to complete three missions. This was a bit more than he expected: after sending 80,000 people, he thought he would only be able to complete two missions, but he didn't expect Hermione to be so strong at the end and lead him to victory.

"Well? This magical chess is well done, isn't it?" said Professor Flitwick triumphantly, pointing to the smoking cities in the sandbox. Each order on the parchment had just moved the troops of pieces on the board, sending them into battle in the mountains and cities.

Tom said with sincere admiration, "It's a masterpiece, a game ahead of its time. A magic game like this must use a lot of complex and sophisticated magic spells..."

Tom referred to the various spells used by Professor Flitwick to make the pieces, and Flitwick, holding nothing back, told Tom all about it.

The more he talked, the more excited he became, and finally he clapped his hands, "I have a little more of what I've learned in my years of studying magic spells, so wait, I'll get it for you."

"Accio notes!" As a master of spells, Professor Flitwick could not run to his office to bring the notes, but instead cast a summoning spell and "summoned" his notes from his office.

A wizard may lose some things and may not have sufficient frontal combat power, but a wizard's magic can make everyday life much easier. For example, a magician never has to worry about not finding something.

The mage can solve the problem with a single summoner spell.

The Summoning Spell is also a very idealistic spell. Trying to explain magic through science is hilarious, most magic is so mental that forcing science to explain it is like shooting an arrow and then aiming at the bullseye.

The same goes for the summoner spell. Like most spells in the magical world, the Summoning Spell is a spell that seems very simple, but can actually be studied in great depth. Tom has written a short article on the Summoning Spell in his spare time, which is almost finished, and he intends to send it out in the next few days. He doesn't expect it to be in a top magazine like 'Magic', just a magazine, but it can't be too outrageous, the sort of thing Tom refuses to do in 'Singing the Contradictions'. If you publish in a magazine like that, they're going to treat you like a comedian.

Of course, as the saying goes, "If you're not happy with it, you can change it," and Tom could publish a bunch of top-notch articles and turn 'Singing the Contradictions' into the top magazine in the magic world, but why? Is it necessary? It's like if a Nobel laureate built his lab at a university without a degree, he could catapult that university to 211 status,

But why do we have to do it?

There are several classic applications of the summoning spell, the best known being to summon the Fire Saeta, which raises a few more questions: why Harry Potter's Fire Saeta and the Fire Saeta in a shop window the one that was summoned? If Harry's Fire Saeta had weighed a ton, would it have flown? A ton, yes, but what about ten tons, a hundred tons, a thousand tons?

Why not summon the golden egg? If a summoning spell can summon something, can it "summon" the eyes of the fire dragon that protected the golden egg? What happens when you use the summoning spell on a non-specific unknown object?

If you can solve these five questions, you can understand the summoning spell thoroughly.

First of all, the summoning spell will automatically do the filtering. For example, if Tom wakes up in the morning and wants a glass of water, so he shouts, "Accio glass of water," it must be the glass of water next to his bed, not the glass of water in the bedroom next door. Tom doesn't need to add a whole list of qualifiers, such as "Accio ceramic cup with the rest of last night's black tea" - they are all fulfilled by the spell at the time you cast it, you just need to focus on the fact that you want the cup next to the bed when you cast the spell.

As with any spell, there are limits to the summoning spell, if an object is too heavy, too far away from the caster or if it is part of another creature, then the summoning spell will not work on it. Suppose, for example, that a person shouts, "Accio Hogwarts Express!". Will it summon the train to him? As "Accio foothold, I can lift the whole earth", theoretically possible, but practically impossible, because the wizard's magic is too weak.

As for the summoning spell on an unknown object, it was enough to change the incantation, being the "summoning" spell, which Mrs. Weasley used to find the prank toys Fred and George had hidden. Obviously, Mrs. Weasley didn't know their names or where they were, but she still confiscated the entire stash from Fred's brothers with a single spell.

This is related to Mrs. Weasley's strength; Ron probably wouldn't have been able to find all the toys, not to mention the fact that he would have been killed by his brothers.

So the summoning spell follows three general rules.

1. The stronger the wizard, the greater the distance and weight of the summoned object.

2. Although there are no rules, generally only one object will be summoned at a time.

3. The spell may not work on other magical objects, so a Horcrux such as Slytherin's locket cannot be summoned with a single summoning spell.

Of course, there is one more prerequisite: you have to be a wizard.

Professor Flitwick opened the door to the corridor, took his notes and handed them to Tom.

Tom took the notebook with a black cover, which was heavy in his hand and whose pages were yellowed.

"Thank you!" Tom thanked Professor Freeway wholeheartedly for a book like this, which had taken him half a lifetime to write.

"You're welcome," Professor Flitwick said, looking at the old notebook with some emotion, "Anyway, it will be donated to the Hogwarts library when I die."

But before Tom could move, Flitwick jumped up and took the notebook away again.

"Gemini!" He made a copy of the notes and handed the duplicate to Tom. He was a little embarrassed, "If there's any further progress, I'll add a few more things..."

[Professor Flitwick's Notes on Charms (4 stars): notes yet to be perfected containing Filius Flitwick's knowledge of Charms, which will be of great use for the advancement of Charms when studied carefully].

Tom accepted the notebook under Hermione's burning eyes.

"It's getting late," said Professor McGonagall, glancing at the clock, "And it's time for Miss Granger to return to the common room."

With this impeccable excuse, the game was brought to an end and everyone returned to their offices or Common Room for an early rest. They had to get up the next day to decorate the castle.

The last day of October 1992 was a cloudy and rainy day, and a few moments listening to the rain by the window were enough to get the idea of lying in a soft bed all day, but this "little blessing" was not meant for the members of the Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch team, who also had a lot of fun on such a day. on days like these they also practice.

The Gryffindor team was a bit more unfortunate than the Slytherin team, as the latter had been gifted with the most advanced broom: the Nimbus 2001, which had been donated to the Slytherin team by Lucius Malfoy, Malfoy's father, in exchange for Draco Malfoy becoming the team's Seeker, despite being a second year.

According to Fred and George's reconnaissance, the 2001 Nimbus was so fast it looked like a jet plane, and Fred and George saw the Slytherin players riding them turn into seven pale green blurry shadows as they accelerated.

At the news, all the Gryffindors became concerned.

Aside from the team, the professors were not idle, as they began decorating Hogwarts Castle in earnest after dusk. Professor Flitwick had placed bats in various corners of the castle, swarming the rooftops and hanging from the eaves and windows, and with yellow and purple ribbons, the Halloween atmosphere became more intense.

Of course, this was not enough, as Professor Flitwick had manipulated the Hogwarts armor to make all sorts of noises: whistling, whispering, sobbing, etc., and by the end of the day, they were singing hymns in unison. Professor McGonagall turned all the lights into pumpkin lanterns, but didn't take Tom's advice and replaced the candles with brightly glowing green candles: this is a Halloween party, not a haunted house, she said.

The carved patterns on the pumpkins were not at all sinister, and the warm light from the pumpkin lamps was soothing and homey. The lights are magical, the white ones are a bit dull and harsh, the red ones are oppressive and uncomfortable, and all the other colors have their drawbacks, but the yellowish ones are the only ones that give you a sense of home.

The students, who have spent dozens of hours in a foreign country, finally settle into a rented house. They make their bed, grab a few quick bites of fast food, dust themselves off and lie on the bed with a pillow, feeling relieved and relaxed. If there was a yellow light over the bed, it would be soothing, and I'm afraid I'd know what it means to be home.

After Professor McGonagall spoke to Tom, he realized that he had been so caught up in the horror of the occasion that he had neglected the festive element, so he fine-tuned his plans.

The colors of the Great Dining Hall were still depressing, and at first there were hardly any lights in the Great Dining Hall, just a few pumpkin lamps glowing green. There was muffled music coming from Hagrid's carriage-sized pumpkin, dark clouds falling from the ceiling and a human face among them....

But once a sufficient number of students had entered the Great Dining Hall, the lights would instantly come on, illuminating the Great Dining Hall, the band would enter to change the tune to upbeat holiday music, and the kitchen would come to the tables. With food and drink and a concert by Dumbledore's skeleton dance troupe, it was sure to be a happy Halloween.

Tom had adjusted the ceiling and turned on the lights when Hagrid came in dragging a cart of pumpkins, each the size of a garden shed.

"I used a little 'help' on them...," Hagrid coughed dryly as he saw Tom looking at the pumpkins, with a flash of panic in his black eyes, he coughed dryly and explained with some embarrassment.

Tom remembered Hagrid's big pink umbrella, which had contained his "broken" wand, but he very much doubted that Dumbledore had given Hagrid a little "help". Because Hagrid was only in his third year when he was expelled and his wand was broken. Ron's partially broken wand had prevented him from casting his spells, while Hagrid's had been broken by the Ministry of Magic, but he had been able to work his magic without too much difficulty: on that stormy night of July 31 last year, when Hagrid met Harry, he could make fire with magic, he could grow a pig's tail on Dudley's arse, and he could enter and leave Diagon Alley freely....

Reminiscent of 1945, Dumbledore obtained the elderberry wand that can repair the wand, all is evident.

Dumbledore took many risks in doing so, the magical world was very strict about wands, and it was a crime for any creature who was not a wizard to obtain or use a wand and be "purged", and it was always a point of contention whether or not a half-breed with magical animal blood could obtain a wand. This situation later escalated, culminating in Voldemort's "wand-hunting" order: even wizards without pure blood could not legally have wands.

"This kind of magic is really convenient!" Tom's attention was not on whether or not Hagrid had a wand illegally, but on another matter: how much does this kind of magic pumpkin produce? How long does it take to mature?

A pumpkin the size of a flower shed, this is the magic of magic.

Tom pulled out his wand and began carving the pumpkin, and soon hollowed out the inside to make a giant pumpkin jack-o-lantern big enough for two or three people to play at the Halloween dinner with the guest band. The inside of the pumpkin will be used to make pies and the rest will be fed to the pigs.

After carving the giant pumpkin, Tom finished most of the decorations and realized he was missing some small pumpkin lights: he wanted to have some on the long table, preferably one for every four students, which seemed too few for the number of pumpkin lights. So he decided to go to Professor McGonagall's office to get more.

Walking down the empty corridor, Tom spotted a concerned "man": the ghost of Gryffindor, Nearly Headless Nick. He was well dressed, with long curly hair, a feathered hat that was fashionable even today, and a knee-length robe with a roll-neck.

Nick was looking crestfallen out the window, whispering, ".... only half an inch! Well, yes... ah, hello, Professor! " He saw Tom approaching.

"Hi, Nick, what's bothering you?" Tom was also curious about ghosts and wondered what kind of person could take the form of a ghost after death.

"Just a little matter," Nick said, folding a transparent letter and hiding in his tight blouse, waving his long, elegant hand in a nonchalant tone, "Ha, a small organization, I really didn't want to join, I just wanted to try, I didn't think I'd 'fail'. I didn't think I was 'disqualified'."

Even as a ghost, Tom could see the deep pain on her face.

Tom noticed many details, such as the fact that Nick could answer his questions, could think independently, had his own emotions and even had a ghost card and new clothes: the world of ghosts was not so simple.

Nick's emotions suddenly exploded: "Professor, tell me one thing, do I have the right to join the group of headless hunters? I have received forty-four blunt axe blows to the neck."

He pulled out the transparent letter again and read it angrily, "We only accept hunters whose heads are separated from their bodies. Otherwise, team members will not be allowed to participate in hunting team activities, such as horseback games and head balls, I hope you will extend this. Therefore, I regret to inform you that you do not meet our criteria. With my compliments, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore."

After reading the letter, Nick tucked it back into his clothes.

"Is that what I want? I wish more than anyone that my head had been cut off cleanly. It would have saved me a lot of pain and I wouldn't have been made fun of. But..."

Tom was tempted to say, "As far as common sense goes, you really don't have the qualifications to join the 'Headless Hunters'." But seeing Nick's intense emotions, Tom swallowed the sentence.

The ghost's mood swings were so great that a hysterical Nick took several deep breaths and regained his composure and grace.

"There are many headless hunters, but only one like you, and in the eyes of most, your condition is pretty much the same as having lost your mind." Although he didn't quite understand why Nick was so eager to join the Headless Hunters, Tom reassured him.

Nick's mood had visibly improved, but it was clear he still wasn't sure about it.

"Halloween is supposed to be a big holiday for ghosts, right? How do they celebrate it?" Tom remembered the definition of Halloween, which was a "spooky" holiday, and now he had a ghost in front of him, so he could ask him about how ghosts celebrated it. For ghosts, Halloween would be the equivalent of New Year's Day, wouldn't it? Tom thought to himself.

Nick puffed out his chest and said, with a dignified air, "The death anniversary party! Halloween this year will be my 500th anniversary. I'm having a party in one of the more spacious subway classrooms. Friends will come from all over the country. I've even prepared a poem..."

"Would you like to hear it?" Nick said enthusiastically.

"Naturally." Tom nodded, Nick cleared his throat, straightened his clothes and began to sing.

After listening to the poem, Tom was silent. Behind the elegant words of the poem was an extremely bloody and brutal story, telling of Nick's death.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington was the full name of the Nearly Headless Nick, a courtier at the court of King Henry VII. As an adult he openly consorted with Muggles and was knighted. On the evening of October 30, 1492, Sir Nicholas was strolling in the park when he met Lady Grieve. He hoped that Nick would help him straighten his teeth, but it was not to be, as Nick was clearly not very good at transfiguration and his magic gave him fangs.

He was imprisoned by the guards who found out, took away his wand and sentenced him to death, and he spent the night screaming that he would soon be able to undo the damage he had done to Lady Grieve. But instead of forgiving, a priest came to Sir Nicholas's cell to "console" him and accompanied him to the execution chamber at dawn the next day.

The consoled Nick was speechless when he arrived at the execution chamber.

The executioner's axe was blunt, so Nicholas received forty-five blows in all, but still some skin and sinew remained attached to his neck.

As a magician, Tom was horrified to hear this, and felt a dull ache in his neck. It is because stories like this are repeated over and over again that there is such a deep divide between the magical and non-magical world. When this happens to your family, friends and acquaintances over and over again, you too distrust Muggles.

The magical world once extended an olive branch of friendship to the non-magical world, but it was abruptly cut off by Muggles.

"Erm... well..." Tom couldn't find the right word to describe his feelings at that moment, but one person appeared just in time to relieve his embarrassment - Harry Potter. He appeared at the end of the corridor with a heavy step. He had just finished Quidditch training and was soaked to the bone and covered in mud.

His expression indicated that he had something on his mind as well.

"Hello, young Potter!" Nick greeted him, "Looks like you have something on your mind? can I help you?"

Harry shook his head, he was worried about how to beat the Slytherin, and unless Nick knew where to get seven free Nimbus 2001s, he wouldn't be able to help him.

"Meow~" there was a sudden high-pitched, piercing meow that interrupted the conversation. Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, appeared out of nowhere, glaring at Harry and meowing sharply.

Before Harry could react, with a thick plaid scarf tied around his head, Filch, red-nosed, ran toward Harry from behind a tapestry, panting heavily.

Filch was particularly grumpy today: he had caught a cold and it had taken him all morning to clean up the frog brains that some students had accidentally smeared on the ceiling of the fifth classroom in the basement. Coincidentally, Harry was dripping mud at the time, and muddy water was spreading along his steps....

Then Filch exploded, his eyes wild-eyed, the flesh of his chin quivering as his mouth opened and closed, "Mud and water! The castle's gone bad again! Potter~!"