Chapter 291: Shake Your Head

For a while after that encounter, Kyle kept a close watch on his surroundings, but oddly, the raspy, whispering voice never returned. He even tried to exhaust himself further with increased training and all-nighters, hoping that fatigue might bring it back. Yet, it was all in vain. It seemed he really had misheard something that day.

After two weeks of this, Kyle finally stopped dwelling on it.

...

A few days before Halloween, on a stormy Saturday evening, Kyle was hurrying down a dim corridor after finishing Charms Club when he nearly collided with someone—or rather, something. He had almost walked straight through Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower. Nick was staring mournfully out a window, muttering to himself, "...didn't meet their requirements... only half an inch away…"

Nick was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Kyle approaching—at least, not until Kyle decided to greet him.

"Hello, Sir Poppington."

Kyle preferred calling him by his formal name rather than "Nick." Ever since his last holiday, "Nick" had always reminded him of an old man he'd met in Devon.

"Oh—hello," Nearly Headless Nick was visibly startled. After looking around for a moment, he finally spotted Kyle. "Not many people call me that," he said, sounding slightly cheered. "You look tired, which is… nice… I mean, I can't quite recall what being tired feels like."

As he spoke, he tucked a transparent letter into his shirt. Though the letter was see-through, it resembled real parchment and became almost invisible once folded.

"I can tell you, it feels awful," Kyle said, rubbing his forehead. "You're not missing out." He then changed the subject. "You look troubled."

"Oh, it's nothing," Nick said, waving his hand dismissively. "Just a trivial matter… It's not like I truly wanted to join… I thought I could apply, but it seems I… don't meet the requirements." His tone was light, but the pain on his face told a different story.

"Hello… Kyle, and Nick, too," came a voice from down the hall. Harry had approached, looking thoroughly soaked and covered in mud from head to toe, likely having just come from Quidditch practice.

"Is your badge not working?" Kyle asked.

"It's working fine," said Harry. "I just ended up in a mud puddle while chasing the Snitch, and it came loose." He held up the waterproof badge, which was still attached to a torn scrap of his robe.

"Looks like you fell pretty hard." Kyle raised his wand. "Reparo." The torn fabric and badge mended themselves back onto Harry's robe.

"Thanks, Kyle! Hermione's been trying to get me to learn that charm—I think she might be right," Harry said, grinning. Then he turned to Nick. "You seem troubled."

Being questioned by two students in quick succession seemed to make the ghost's frustration bubble over. "I'll tell you!" he burst out, pulling the letter from his shirt again and launching into a tirade about how the Headless Hunt had rejected his application.

"Look at this: We can only accept Huntsmen whose heads are completely detached from their bodies…" he read out furiously. "Only a little bit of skin and sinew holds mine on—most people would consider that no different from losing your head! But no, in Sir Patrick's eyes, it's not enough!"

Harry opened his mouth, not knowing how to respond, and ended up saying rather awkwardly, "I think you qualify. Really."

"Thank you… But unfortunately, they don't agree!"

"Sir Poppington…" Kyle said thoughtfully. "If you ask me, you don't really need to be fixated on joining the Headless Hunt."

"I'm not fixated!" Nick retorted defensively. "I was just applying for fun! Because, you know, being a ghost can get a bit dull sometimes."

"Of course, if you say so," Kyle replied, not pressing the matter. "But why not start your own Almost-Headless Hunt team?"

Nick looked at him, intrigued. "Start my own Hunt team?"

"Yes, Sir Poppington," Kyle said. "I imagine you're quite well-known in the ghost community."

"Well… I do have quite a few friends," Nick admitted, his expression brightening. "In fact, this Halloween marks the 500th anniversary of my death, and over a hundred ghosts have already RSVP'd to attend."

His pride was evident, so Kyle could guess that this was indeed an impressive number.

"That's no problem!" Kyle laughed. "You could announce the formation of your own ghost hunting team during the party. Ask your ghostly friends to help spread the word and boost its popularity."

"But…what about the activities?" Nick hesitated, looking a bit unsure. "I hate to admit it, but I really can't do things like horse's head juggling or head-top polo… And I don't look particularly frightening, either."

"You can come up with your own activities," Kyle suggested. "No need to copy theirs. You have your own unique advantages."

"My… advantages?" Nick echoed, puzzled.

"Exactly." Kyle thought for a moment. "For instance, you could spin your head like a propeller. They can't do that!"

Kyle then took out a small stone tied to a string and spun it around his hand a few times. "Like this…"

"You could even find a mount that's almost headless and spin together with it. It would be even better if you could make some eerie noises or pull some ghostly expressions while you're at it."

Nearly Headless Nick's eyes widened in fascination, as if he'd just uncovered a brilliant new idea. He leaned eagerly toward Harry. "Do you think it would be truly scary if I did that?"

Harry glanced at the spinning stone in Kyle's hand, then at Nick's floating head. An image formed in his mind, and his face scrunched up involuntarily. Oh no… the mental picture was vivid, and Harry already knew he'd be haunted by it tonight!

Nick, however, was thrilled. "Oh, perfect—that's exactly the reaction I'm looking for!" he said, clapping his hands in delight. "What a marvelous idea! Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore would be astounded if he saw it. Haha… Why didn't I think of this before?"

He spun around in the air, elated by the prospect of his newfound act.

"If you'd be so kind, would you come to my…" Nick's words were abruptly interrupted by a sharp, shrill noise from the floor near Harry's ankle.

"Meow…"

"It's Mrs. Norris," Kyle said, eyeing the long trail of mud Harry had left behind. "You'd better get out of here. Filch has been cleaning up since this morning—someone's cauldron exploded in Potions class and spilled everywhere. If he sees you leaving muddy footprints…"

"You're right," Harry muttered, quickly glancing at his mud-covered robes and preparing to make a dash for the common room. But it was too late. He'd barely taken a step when Filch appeared from behind a tapestry, his face red and his breath heavy.

"That's it!" Filch snarled, pointing at the mud dripping from Harry's robes. "There's mess everywhere, and I've had enough of it! Potter, come with me!"

Harry sighed, resigned, and followed Filch down the corridor, his muddy footprints trailing along the floor.

"He's taking him to… Filch's office. Likely intending to teach him a lesson," Nick murmured. "We need to help Harry. I recall a large cabinet in the utility room… If we drop it on top of Filch's office, it might provide a distraction."

"A big cabinet?" Kyle muttered, intrigued. "Where's this utility room?"

"No, you can't go—too much risk of trouble." Nick began sinking into the wall. "I'll go find Peeves. He's perfect for this sort of thing."

"Wait…" Kyle started to protest, but Nick had already disappeared.

This is all a bit hasty, he thought, staring down the empty corridor. After a moment, Kyle decided on a plan of his own and turned to make his way quickly to the second floor.