"Oh, for Merlin's sake."
The person who uttered that satisfying curse was me.
The reason I, who was supposed to be keeping a Mandrake leaf in my mouth, was able to speak was because something had gone wrong.
With a troubled expression, I sat on my bed, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Specifically, at my hair.
My hair, which was supposed to be magically dyed black, was now shining in its natural bluish-gray color.
The cause, of course, was the Mandrake leaf I had been holding in my mouth, which suppresses magical transformations.
The leaf, which was supposed to absorb my own energy for a fortnight, had instead exhausted its properties by absorbing the magic cast upon my hair. Consequently, I had to prepare a new Mandrake leaf.
Of course, this meant I couldn't cast any magic on my hair in the meantime. And considering my conspicuous hair color, revealing it to the entire student body was not a good option.
I could, I suppose, dye it the Muggle way, but I didn't want to damage my hair for a period of just two weeks.
In that case, was there only one solution?
After contemplating with a serious expression, I spoke to Harry when he woke up in the morning.
"Harry, I'll have to miss about two weeks of school soon."
"What? So suddenly?"
If being noticed at school was the problem, then not coming to school would solve it, wouldn't it?
I nodded, marveling at my own genius.
***
Of course, I wasn't leaving school right this instant. The Animagus ritual had to begin on the night of a full moon and last until the next one. Since the full moon was yesterday, I had to wait another two weeks.
So, what was there to do for those two weeks? Naturally, it wasn't something as dull as studying, as befits a student's duty.
I was planning to conduct all sorts of research during my two-week absence from Hogwarts anyway. Not being able to speak wouldn't stop me from my work.
Honestly, the idea of having time completely to myself was quite appealing.
Lately—that is, for the past five years since coming to the 20th century—I had always been with Deek, Harry, and Ardeura. Not that I disliked it, but for someone like me, who was used to a lifestyle of holing up in a workshop and researching alone, it was a rather unfamiliar way of life. This was especially true in that the time I could invest purely in myself had diminished.
Perhaps that was why. The joy of a long-awaited vacation made me feel like a student eagerly awaiting a holiday break.
Which, considering I was a student literally waiting for the day I could skip school, wasn't an incorrect sentiment at all.
For that reason, I may have let my guard down a little.
After classes had ended, on my way back to the Gryffindor common room alone after a trip to the bathroom, I heard a voice greet me from somewhere and answered without thinking.
[Ooh, look who it is. If it isn't Aisen Knightly?]
"Ah, Nick. It's been a while."
…...
Oh, for Merlin's sake.
My jaw dropped at the stupid affirmation that had just escaped my own lips.
It was a good thing no one else was around. No, if there had been, that ghost probably wouldn't have spoken to me in the first place. In any case, there was no doubt I had done something foolish.
Seeing my gaping mouth, the Nick with the dangling head gave me a meaningful smile.
[Judging by that reaction, I take it I'm not supposed to use your old name?]
"…That's right. If you know, please be more careful."
I sighed and asked, "I feel like you've spoken to me like this once before."
Nick chuckled heartily. [Ha-ha. You have a fine memory, young man.]
A long time ago, when I was searching for a certain book at Hogwarts, Nick had offered his help in exchange for a small 'fee'.
Recalling the incident, Nick let out an awkward laugh.
I smirked. "If I remember correctly, you wanted to join the Headless Hunt and asked me to help you acquire a bribe."
It was a funny thing, in hindsight. How paradoxical that even after death, one would still fret over their relationships with other humans (or ghosts). But that was all in the past now.
It was a hundred years ago. A hundred years is more than enough time for anything to come to a definitive end.
But unlike me, who was smiling at the memory, Nick's expression was stiff and twitching.
Then, as if he had made up his mind, he pulled sharply on his own neck.
Thump, thump, thump.
His silver, Patronus-like head, held on by a mere half-inch of skin, stubbornly refused to separate from his body.
Tears had already welled up in Nick's dangling eyes.
Seeing this, I asked with a sense of dread, "Still?"
"Always."
In the end, I simply couldn't refuse Nick's subsequent request. And that was the reason I ended up at Nick's Deathday Party instead of the Halloween Feast, on the day before my self-declared vacation from Hogwarts was to begin.
***
What exactly is the point of a Deathday Party?
Ghosts apparently celebrate their deathday as the day they were reborn from the living to the dead.
Reborn as the dead. Does that mean ghosts are aware of their own discontinuity? Or is it just a celebration of shedding a mortal coil, like a chick hatching from an egg, just as we celebrate emerging from a mother's womb?
Either way, it was something I could never know without becoming a ghost myself. It's hard enough to understand the words and thoughts of other people; how could I possibly comprehend the mind of a non-human ghost?
The reason I was pondering this was simple. Looking at the assembly of ghosts, I found it hard to believe that these beings had once possessed the tastes of the living.
The grating sound of saws played by grotesque skeletons. The foul-smelling, rotten food strewn about the party hall. The utterly incomprehensible party decor. And to top it all off, the bone-chilling cold emanating from the gathered ghosts.
Having been dragged to the Deathday Party by Nick's not-so-subtle coercion, I was staring blankly at the scene.
Empty your mind, think of nothing. The more one thinks, the more agonizing a party for the dead is for the living.
Of course, even that wasn't easy.
[Oh, dear. My apologies.]
[Pardon me.]
[Watch out!]
When a multitude of ghosts gather to dance, it's inevitable that some will bump into me. And when a ghost bumps into a human, it usually ends with the human's unilateral discomfort. For example, a chill that seeps into your very bones. If one simply watches the party absent-mindedly, one's entire body will grow cold.
Still, I had chosen to come here. Who was there to blame?
With a sigh, I watched Nick try yet again to strike up a conversation with the members of the Headless Hunt. Of course, I also made sure to wave at the familiar ghosts who greeted me. Jackdaw, the Grey Lady, the Baron, and others.
"…Hm?"
Just then, from the entrance of this bizarre ballroom, flowed not the chill of the dead, but the warmth of the living.
Who on earth, besides Aisen Knightly, would come to a ball for the dead?
Naturally, my gaze was drawn to the other bold, living souls attending this party.
Appearing at the entrance were—Harry and his friends.
Seeing them, the ghosts nodded and dispersed again.
[What, is that Harry Potter?]
[He's that man's disciple, isn't he? It's understandable he'd be curious about ghosts.]
[Don't get too close. He might capture you for an experiment on spiritual entities.]
[Bringing his clueless friends along, too. How impressive.]
Ignoring the ghosts' whispers behind me, I blinked and asked, "Harry? What are you doing here?"
Harry blinked back. "M-Aisen, what are you doing here? Haven't you already left?"
To summarize, it was simple.
I, for my part, had told him I was going to the Deathday Party alone before leaving.
He, for his part, hadn't mentioned it because the party was scheduled for after the time I'd said I was leaving.
And so, by a fantastic coincidence, we met at Nick's Deathday Party.
Nick clapped his hands—though, being intangible, it made no sound—and said, "In any case, I'm just grateful you all could make it! Thanks to you, I'm able to enjoy a truly extravagant Deathday Party!"
Even if my neck is just dangling, today I can smile.
While Nick and the other ghosts laughed heartily, the living children's faces were growing paler by the second. They weren't accustomed to ghosts like I was, and it was clear they had come purely out of curiosity, enticed by the words "ghosts' party."
I let out a small laugh. "Completely different from what you expected, isn't it?"
Hermione hugged her shoulders. "Yes, very different. For starters, I didn't expect it to be this… creepy."
Ron grumbled under his breath, "Damn it, if I'd known it would be like this, I would have just gone to the Halloween Feast. Dumbledore said he prepared a huge celebration this year."
But what could be done? You were the ones who decided to come to the Deathday Party instead of the Halloween Feast.
When I sent them a mocking look with that intention, they all looked away. They knew they didn't have much of a defense.
Hermione asked me, "But Aisen. We were tricked by Harry into coming, but how did you end up here alone?"
Harry interjected with a "I didn't trick them," but Hermione and I ignored him.
"Hmm… if I had to say, I have a connection with Sir Nicholas."
For reference, Nicholas is Nick's real name.
Hermione looked surprised. "You're friends with a ghost too! I didn't know."
Of course, no matter how friendly I was with Nick, I never would have come if he hadn't played on my emotions by using my real name.
Harry spoke quietly. "Aisen, isn't it… a bit cold in here?"
"Of course it is, Harry. It's common sense that the temperature drops when you're around ghosts."
As a side note, some nefarious wizards used this phenomenon to create ghost-powered refrigerators. The ones who fell into my hands ended up powering those refrigerators themselves.
And so the Deathday Party flowed on, like an uneasy truce between the unhappy living and the happy dead.
(TN: The original text uses a Korean idiom, O-wol-dong-ju, which refers to enemies forced to cooperate in a difficult situation.)
"H-Harry. I really can't take it anymore."
Accepting Ron's opinion, whose teeth were chattering from the cold, we quietly decided to leave the party.
"Well then, I'm off. See you in two weeks."
"What? Two weeks? Where are you going?"
At Hermione's question, I thought for a moment, then answered with a single word that best explained the situation.
"Skipping."
Amidst Hermione's shocked shriek of "How can you just skip school?!" and Ron's envious stare, I grinned and walked confidently out of the school. I had even gotten Albus to write me a permission slip, so there was no one to stop me.
And so, I left Hogwarts to enjoy a vacation for myself for the first time in five years.
…And that night, Harry and his friends saw the warning that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened.
***