Half Blood Royalty

Troublesome Kids, Squibs, and Headless Hunts

Almost instantaneously, it was already October - filling the grounds and castle with a damp chill, which kept Madam Pomfrey quite busy as a sudden burst of colds hit several staff and students. Thankfully, her Pepperup Potion worked instantly... even if it did leave the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterwards. Huge drops of rain thundered against the castle windows for days on end, which caused the lake to rise, the flowerbeds to turn into muddy steams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled up to the size of garden sheds. Still upset with Draco, I found myself hanging out with Harry more... which, if I had known would've been mostly getting drenched as I tried to sneak off to watch Quidditch Practice, I probably would've just made up with Draco- who was staying dry indoors. Although with how Gryffindor was practicing for Quidditch, maybe Slytherin should get some practice in for themselves. They seemed to think that believing they're "the best" because of their new broomsticks (the Nimbus 2001s are pretty quick; I won't deny that - they look like small green blurs as they buzz around on the things) ... typically Slytherin Quidditch practices typically will turn into seeing which one of them can fly faster than the others. At least Gryffindor actually uses their time wisely, managing to get new moves down... or even master moves they needed to work on. I may be Slytherin, but I do prefer to watch Gryffindor practice.

One late stormy Saturday afternoon, a few days before Halloween, I found myself running into Harry as he headed his way towards Gryffindor Tower. Well, I didn't "find myself running into him" as much as he found me in the halls, also drenched head to toe like he was. The only difference was that I wasn't splattered with mud like he had been. Wood must've gone hard with practice this time.

"Oh," He spoke out, "it's you."

"Hello to you as well." I answered. Both of us had been dripping all over the floor, leaving trails of muddy footprints behind us.

"I need to-" He tried to move past me when his eyes fell upon Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, who had been staring out of a window, muttering under his breath, "...don't fulfil their requirements... half an inch, if that..."

"Hello, Nick." Harry said to him.

"Hello, hello." Nearly Headless Nick answered back. He was wearing a dashing, plumed hat over his curly hair and a tunic with a ruff, which concealed the fact that his neck had been almost completely severed. He was pale as smoke, and I could see right through him to the dark sky and torrential rain outside.

"You two look troubled," said Nick, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet.

"So do you." said Harry. I nodded, unsure what I could possibly say in this moment. Of course, Slytherin had a ghost as well; the Bloody Baron; who I feel embodies the Slytherin House a little too much... considering his backstory.

"Ah," Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, "a matter of no importance... it's not as though I really wanted to join... though I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfil 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 ax would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"

"Oh- Yes," Harry responded, who was obviously supposed to agree with Nick. I nodded quietly, assuming I also was supposed to just agree with him.

"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that this had been all 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 and open and read furiously,