章節 22: This Is Halloween.
Nearly Headless Nick awaited his five hundredth deathday with a very morose expression on his face. The Gryffindor House ghost would have liked to get into the Headless Hunt by now. He made appeal after appeal, and they had been shut down. Nick stepped down every avenue to attempt to upgrade his nearly headless status to a status of being completely headless. He asked the help for students in the library, talked to several of the teachers. He even went straight to the Bloody Baron for help, but even the Baron was no help to him. Nick's dismal thoughts came through his mind with a couple of deep breaths.
"Why are sound like you're having trouble catching your breath? You would think that wouldn't be a problem."
"Unfortunately," Nick said. "I would have welcomed heart failure by now."
Deadpool leaned against the wall, a new head had grown on his body. He could not figure out the whereabouts of his previous head, even after all of these weeks. He was certain that he could locate it given time. There was a sense that the head ended up somewhere on the Grounds.
Growing a new body took a bit longer than growing a second head and was far more painful. The most painful process of all, at least from what Deadpool remember, was regrowing that third leg.
"Maybe Dumbledore can speak in your favor, or help you," Deadpool said. "Or how about Binns? That guy was teaching here since the school was built. Maybe he has a couple of ideas."
Nick shook his head so hard it almost came off, but still hung in there. That half of an inch mocked the Nearly Headless One. Deadpool reached up and tried to adjust his head. Nick sighed when his eyes locked back onto Deadpool's.
"I tried to speak to Professor Binns," Nick said. "He gave me a stirring lecture talking about the Goblin Rebellion of 1797, and then called me Nathan at the end of it. I think that trying to get any information out of him is a lost cause."
"Be thankful you only didn't lose your head."
A very despondent looking Gilderoy Lockhart stepped inside, wearing black robes, with what grew back of his hair unkempt and greasy. His toothless mouth curled into a grimace. Lockhart responded with a very obvious sigh and sat down on the chair. He rocked back and forth and hummed lightly.
"My dreams, up in smoke," Lockhart said. "I was going to have a best seller, writing about the greatest adventure of all, teaching. Instead, it went up in smoke."
"So what's stopping you from writing this book anyway?" Deadpool asked. "Surely a tale of whether you escaping certain failure must be exciting."
"I have an affliction," Lockhart said. "It is causing my ideas to fail to pass from my mind. The words are no longer coming where it used to be."
"You have Writer's Block," Luna said after popping around the corner. "It happens to all of us."
Lockhart hummed and pulled a guitar and started to strum on it. He rocked back and forth.
"Where did you get a guitar?" Deadpool asked.
"My life is full of woe, oh I really have to go," Lockhart said in a melancholy voice while strumming on his guitar. "Oh, don't you know, my hair no longer does flow. There is nothing, but darkness in my life. I really wish I could cut myself with a knife."
"Yeah, I'm going to be over here," Deadpool said. "So, what's the deal, Nick?"
"I've invited several ghosts to my Deathday Party," Nick said. "Including the leader of the pack, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore and his perfectly decapitated head. When he was caught in bed with the King's wife, they used an actual sharp blade he did and it was off in one hit."
"It was off in one hit," Lockhart said strumming his guitar. "But, when Nick was decapitated, their ax was kind of shit! Now he has it hanging on by one inch. But, at least when people look at his smile now, they don't want to flinch!"
Filch stepped over down the hallway, stopped, and threw a handful of Sickles down on the ground at Lockhart's feet before walking off in the other direction to deal with Peeves crashing half of the suits of armor over.
"This Patrick bloke, he's that good?"
"Yes, perfectly down the neck," Nick said. "One hit, his head flies completely off. BOOM! And I'm sitting here with this half of an inch of flesh. Just hanging on, by a strand. And there's Patrick, Leader of the Pack, and bragging about his goalkeeping skills in Headless Hockey!"
Nick moved off in the other direction. Deadpool thought this place was getting a bit too emo for his own liking. He decided to check up on his friend in the diary. Deadpool lifted up the diary.
'Good day, Mr. Kirby,' the diary wrote. 'So, does Halloween approach?'
'Yes, it does,' Deadpool wrote. 'You know what happened in Halloween? Voldemort lost to a year old child.'
YES, I KNOW!
The diary font looked very jagged with Deadpool stepping back to the diary. He looked at the pages.
But, seriously, I'm glad Halloween is almost here. We better kick up the pace of this story if we want to get through five more years. Or at least until year five, because something big is coming there. Can't quite put my finger on it, but I think there might be a meeting of the minds.
Riddle scrawled back. "Yes, as you said...I wished for you to put my diary underneath your pillow as you sleep tonight."
"Okay, that's….that's weird," Deadpool wrote. "Look, I'm flattered, maybe a little bit curious, but we're from two different worlds. You're a sentient talking diary, and I'm a crazed mercenary who went nuts after they injected him with Wolverine's healing factor to try and cure his cancer. So, I'm not sure how this works?'
"Trust me….you will be glad you have….I believe together we can do great things."
Deadpool curiously eyed the diary and thought about it.
"So, have you had any strange dreams lately?
Deadpool took a moment to write down the dream.
Well, there was this dream where I was at a funeral. And I had to get a eulogy for the guy who was dead. But, the problem is, I didn't know the guy. Everyone was mad at me and started yelling at me and calling me mean names. And then, I was up and realized I wasn't wearing any pants and the people weren't people. They were giant muffins who were cannibals, and they tried to chase me and eat me. And then, I fell into a vat of tapioca pudding. And that's when I woke up.
Several, as in more than three or more minutes passed. The diary shook and started to ooze ink for a second. Deadpool eyed the diary rather nervously.
Wouldn't the muffins eat other muffins, instead of you if they were cannibals?
Deadpool stopped short and drew in a deep breath.
I was a muffin in the dream.
Harry Potter stood in the back of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with their teacher. Several of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students who took Lockhart's class stared the man.
"Gaze upon what happens, children, when you are a victim of a horrible fate," Lockhart said. "Gaze upon what happens, when you are a bit too arrogant for your own good….and gaze upon the price of fame."
"Professor are you sure you're well?" Hermione asked out of genuine concern.
"Yeah, Professor, you…well, no offense but you look terrible," Dean Thomas said.
Lockhart turned around to all of his portraits in the back of the classroom. All of the past Lockhart's screamed in fear at what they become and ran for cover, unable to look at what they had become. They started to shriek and freak out until Lockhart threw blankets over them.
"The dream is over," Lockhart said. "I am not the man I am once before."
"Professor?"
"Yes, Miss Granger," Lockhart said.
"Surely, it does not matter what is on the outside," Hermione said. "It only matters the type of person you are on the inside."
Peeves the Poltergeist stopped outside of the room, looked around and let out a very sarcastic "aww" before zooming out into the distance. Lockhart spent a second considering Hermione.
"You receive ten points to Gryffindor for your idealistic nature," Lockhart said. "Cherish your moments of enjoyment now, Miss Granger. For they will be ripped away from cruel reality."
Lockhart reached over to the cage in his classroom which once contained Freshly Caught Cornish Pixies. He pulled back the tarp and pulled out his guitar. Lockhart strummed his guitar and started to tilt back.
"I've written best-selling books. Great adventures, was simply my greatest hook. One day, I decided to become something more. But, all my plans, they went straight through the floor. Life is nothing, but disappointment and woe. It's just a difficult road you will have to hoe!"
Lockhart strummed on the guitar. Harry flinched at the very awful sounds and Lockhart's abysmal attempt to carry the tune.
'Still better than Marge singing in the shower,' Harry thought with an unfound shudder in remembrance.
"Oh, the end is near. I fear, that the end is here! I fear that it is all over. Life just takes you and bends you over. You go straight to the top and then you fall down as nothing, but a flop. I'll give anything to get it back. I'll do anything to get all back on track. But my life is over. Oh, my life is over! OH, MY LIFE IS OVER! There is no use to try. Oh, why can't this evil Headmaster just let me die!"
Lockhart threw his head back with his greasy hair and toothless grimace visible.
"You know, look on the bright side," Megan Jones whispered to anyone who would listen. "This sure beats having to read his books."
"And now, I will share to my prose about how Severus Snape is the worst human being alive."
Lockhart received cheers at that statement from half of the class. Snape could have made him a potion to grow his beautiful smile back, but Snape claimed that the ingredients were very rare. Snape just did not want to do any actual work.
"You're a mean one, Severus Snape!" Lockhart bellowed. "Your head is shaped like a grape! You're as handsome as a Donkey's rear, your face makes everyone wants everyone to want to get eaten by a bear, Severus Snape! You are a greasy git. Your breath smells just like a skunk's slit, Severus Snape!"
Needless to say, Gilderoy Lockhart was well on his way to becoming one of the most popular Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers in quite some time with his bashing of Severus Snape.
The Five Hundredth Deathday Celebration of Nearly Headless Nick took place, and the Gryffindor House Ghost stood at the edge. He floated up and down against the floor and waited for some of the ghosts to make their way there. Nick tapped his finger through the wall.
"Thank you for coming, Lady Helena," Nick said.
"Well, I can't stand to see a dead man cry," The Grey Lady said. "The Baron…he isn't coming, is he?"
Nick shrugged his shoulders. The Baron just glared at him when asking. He never knew if it was a yes type of glare or a no type of glare. You never really knew with the likes of the Bloody Baron.
"Good day, Nick!"
Nick had been surprised to see Deadpool stepping into the Deathday Party and he wheeled a large catering table full of rotting food.
"I've spent the better part of the last evening roaming behind the bakery dumpsters," Deadpool said. "So, when are the Headless gang showing up?"
"They should be arriving with the rest of the guests," Nick said with a sigh.
"Hey, is that former United States President Millard Filmore?" Deadpool asked as some of the ghosts floated in. "I can't believe Dumbledore gave you this entire dungeon."
"Well, Dumbledore says that it was just going to waste," Nick said. "They're coming and….damn it, why won't you come off?"
Nick tried to tug at his head to pull it off. The damn thing would not budge despite Nick trying to pull it off over the past two months.
"He's still working on it?"
Moaning Myrtle stepped out with a remorseful look on her face. She actually looked rather composed all things considered, although Deadpool knew that it would take the slightest thing to trigger her.
"Hello, Myrtle," Deadpool said. "So what have you been doing lately?"
"I've been talking to Professor Lockhart about how unfair life has been to both of us," Myrtle said. "Can you believe he called me privileged for being dead?"
Deadpool believed it, to be honest, he believed it. He decided to look around to see whether or not his arch-nemesis was here. He knew there was no way in hell Peeves the Poltergeist would have dared not show up at the party.
"Got your conk!"
Peeves popped up and squeezed Deadpool's nose. He dropped down onto the ground as Myrtle screamed in horror. Peeves lifted up the rotting tuna fish grabbed for the party and threw it up into the air. The tuna flew through Myrtle who screamed in horror and ran off in the other direction sobbing.
"Peeves."
The grumbling voice of the Bloody Baron showed up with an ax in his hand. Peeves gulped when staring down the Baron who swung the ax and smashed it on the ground. The ghosts scattered when the Bloody Baron threatened Peeves with his ghost ax.
"Hey, Baron," Deadpool said. "How about you take that ax over to Sir Nicholas, and…you know?"
"I have sworn ever to use this ax upon a fellow Hogwarts house ghost," Baron said. "And I am a man of honor and valor, and I will not raise my blade to another ever again."
"Come on, Baron, be a pal!" Deadpool shouted. "You know Nick would have done the same thing to you if you asked for it."
"I think his quest to join this Headless Hunt is futile," The Baron said. "He may think it's what he wants, but we never truly know what he wants. And he will shred his soul in obsession for the unattainable!"
The Baron floated over to loom in the shadows. Lockhart reached over and put his hand on Nick's shoulder, putting it on Nick's shoulder.
"I know how you can lose that head," Deadpool said. "But, you're not going to like it."
"How?" Nick asked.
"You're going to have to steal the Bloody Baron's ax," Deadpool said.
Nick turned about fifty shades of grey at the thought of stealing from the Bloody Baron of all people.
"Come on, man, you're the Gryffindor House ghost!" Deadpool yelled. "It's just an ax…the blade should be enough to pop that one last inch of skin off, or a half of an inch, or something?"
"Yes, but the Bloody Baron doesn't like people touching him or his ax, especially without permission," Nick said. "I asked him for it, but he refused. And it's a code of honor among ghosts to respect his wishes, especially when he's the Bloody Baron."
"But, you want to get in the Headless Hunt, don't you?" Deadpool asked. "Every one of the five hundred years of your death, hasn't that been what you've wanted?"
"Yes, but…."
"Then there's your chance," Deadpool said. "Take the ax, and get someone to lop it off, and you'll see the smug expressions on the faces of those Headless Hunters when they see that you're Finally Headless Nick."
Nick hesitated. The heard the sounds of a familiar trumpet.
"The Hunt approaches," Nick said.
"It's now or never, Nick," Deadpool said. "Come on! Do it! You know you want to!"
Deadpool turned around and cleared his throat.
"Hey everyone, it's Elvis!"
All of the ghosts turned around in excitement and Nick had a choice to make. He would have to decide whether or not to make his move.
'Oh, come on, author, don't be a dick.'
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