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"Help!!!"
A shrill scream jolted William awake from his sleep. He instinctively drew his wand and ducked behind the table like a cat.
He quickly fumbled in his pocket for a small silver mirror, peering at the doorway, and found no one had broken in.
'Safe, not a trap—'
With a sigh of relief, William quickly cast a Shield Charm on himself, preparing to rush out to see what was happening, but just as he took a step, he stopped with a smile—the scream sounded again, coming from inside the classroom wall.
'I'm always telling others that walls aren't perfect protection, and today I almost made a mistake myself.'
After warning himself internally, William slowly walked towards the ghost screaming for help in the wall—if the ghost suddenly attacked, he could easily handle it at this speed.
At William's target, within the ordinary castle wall, a ghost was stuck, struggling hard, its spiritual body flickering, clearly exerting a great deal of effort.
'It's good to listen to others' experiences, especially protective spells for camping. After using them once, I can sleep soundly even in the classroom.'
"Professor William?"
The ghost stopped struggling, its slightly plump face fixed on William. Although it was a normal greeting, the tone and voice combined gave off a strong sense of joy, like—Oh my god, someone can save me.
Being looked at with such expectant eyes, William felt as if not saving the ghost would be a mistake—even though he was the one who set the trap.
"Oh, Professor, I'm stuck in the wall, could you help me?"
These words almost made the culprit blush—"Of course, of course, no problem at all."
A few minutes later, under the ghost's grateful gaze, the professor, after experimenting with several counter-spells, successfully disarmed the trap in the wall and rescued him.
"That's great, thank you, Professor—it must be Peeves playing tricks again. He always enjoys setting all sorts of traps in the castle."
The rescued ghost complained while patting away non-existent dust, making William instinctively turn his face slightly.
This was another ghost he didn't recognize, and it was dressed strangely—most ghosts in the castle wore wizard robes, but this one was wearing a monk's habit!
"Hello, I'm William, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."
William was truly curious about the ghost's identity, so he introduced himself directly.
"Professor William, hello." Perhaps it had been a long time since he had been introduced so formally, as the ghost fumbled for a while before introducing himself with awkward etiquette. "Apologies, it's been too long, I've forgotten my name—they all call me the Fat Friar, Professor, if you don't mind, please call me that as well."
"Friar?"
The term had too many points to mock, causing William to unconsciously and impolitely repeat it.
"Of course, of course, I am a friar, an ordained clergyman, a professional friar—I have served the Lord ever since graduating from Hufflepuff."
This had even more to mock—although William's utilitarian studies meant his history of magic was worse than a third-year's, he was still very clear that the Church had indeed hunted down wizards.
And even if you changed professions midway, what's with changing from a friar to a ghost?!
However, this Fat Friar finally made William understand what was meant by Hufflepuff accepting anyone—it was likely that if Hogwarts ever admitted centaurs or veela as students, they would probably be sorted into Hufflepuff; this house was simply too inclusive.
But these thoughts clearly couldn't be voiced directly. William suppressed his curiosity and began to inquire about the rooster incident this week.
"Rooster?"
The Fat Friar thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Didn't see it, Professor. Actually, most ghosts wouldn't notice."
"Most? Why?"
"Only wizards become ghosts and linger where they once trod. Although I can't remember when the Forbidden Forest became forbidden, most ghosts never went into the Forbidden Forest when they were alive."
"Most?"
William couldn't help but retort—although he hadn't been employed for long, his time there had made him quite aware of how many people at this school liked to wander into the Forbidden Forest. He might believe that most first-years hadn't been, but those who graduated without ever visiting the Forbidden Forest were fewer than the number of female students in STEM fields!
"Of course, most, Professor. Students brave enough to go into the Forbidden Forest usually don't choose to become ghosts."
The Fat Friar's voice dropped, losing its previous cheerfulness.
"Sorry…"
"It's alright, Professor. So, your question is to find the student who snuck out on Monday and Friday to kill the roosters?"
"Yes."
Although Professor McGonagall had taken over the task, if there was a breakthrough, William didn't mind investigating himself—Hogwarts Castle held too many secrets, and investigating was not just to handle this incident, but also to prevent being completely clueless if an accident occurred in the future.
"Hmm… I think, Professor, let me think."
The Fat Friar began to float in circles on the spot, looking serious.
"Got it! Professor, do you know Nick? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington."
How could I possibly know him!
"Uh," seeing William's slightly bewildered expression, the Fat Friar quickly added, "That's Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. He's about to have his five hundredth Deathday Party soon. On that day, almost half the ghosts in the British wizarding world will come, and all the Hogwarts ghosts will attend. If you're willing to go, I think Nick would be very happy. Then you can ask all the guests there for all the information."
Five hundred years, Deathday Party?
Is it a new birth from the day of death? You ghosts really know how to have fun.
But this news was indeed great—compared to asking one by one, the efficiency would be much higher with the host's permission.
"That's wonderful, thank you, Fat Friar—when is the party? If possible, I'd like to speak with Nicola—um, Sir Nick first."
That name was too long, William couldn't recall it.
"Soon, but I think you'll have plenty of time to talk—the party is at the end of October, on Halloween."
The Fat Friar's voice was filled with the joy of helping.
"It's only September now…"
"In the blink of an eye, Professor. Sometimes I stare at a painting for a month or two."
The Fat Friar answered with a grin—which filled William with a sense of unease.
"Are other ghosts like this too?"
"Of course, time means nothing to us. When we figure things out, perhaps we'll calmly accept death."
What else was there to ask then—if they were all contemplating life, William would probably be searching until the end of the semester.
'Forget it, this will be a backup plan. I can't rely on investigating ghosts. But if Professor McGonagall's side goes smoothly, it probably won't be necessary anyway.'
"Alright, then please discuss it with Sir Nick, I will attend the party."
"That's wonderful, wonderful, Nick will be so happy. I'll go find him right away and tell him the good news." The Fat Friar said with a smile, then began to float towards the wall.
'What a warm-hearted ghost—he probably came over because he heard I was looking for ghosts, otherwise it wouldn't be such a coincidence.'