Chapter Eight: The New Ghost of the Castle

Nicholas de Minci Poppington was once a knight, but that was before his death. Now, he is a ghost at Hogwarts. In life, he had served as a court wizard, but after making a grave mistake, he was sentenced to beheading by the royal family. Unfortunately, the executioner's axe was not sharp enough, and wizards possess a rather unusual resistance to such things—it took several blows to finally end his life. Even then, only a strip of skin was left connecting his head to his neck, which meant that in his ghostly state, his head hung on by a mere thread. Because of this, the ghosts of Hogwarts all called him Nearly Headless Nick.

That night, Nicholas had just finished enjoying a “delicious” meal in the ghostly dining hall and was wandering about the castle, hoping to give a fright to some of the new young witches and wizards. He had to admit, scaring the new students was one of the few pleasures left to the ghosts.

Just then, floating toward him was a ghost with black hair and dark eyes, dressed in simple white robes that seemed more fitting for a traveler from distant lands than a wizard. Though his face was pale, its shape made it clear he was not of European descent.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you before,” Nicholas inquired. “Are you new here?”

The black-haired, dark-eyed ghost nodded. “I come from an ancient civilization in the East. In life, I loved to travel the world, and even in death, I have kept the habit.”

Nicholas’s eyes widened in astonishment. “I had no idea that was possible! As far as I know, ghosts can only linger where they once walked. How do you manage to travel?”

The black-haired ghost paused briefly, his expression unchanged. “In my lifetime, my footsteps spanned nearly the entire world. Now, as a ghost, I merely revisit the places I once journeyed through.”

“I see—how marvelous and strange this wide world is! Welcome to Hogwarts! I am Nicholas de Minci Poppington, but you may address me as Sir Nicholas.”

The black-haired ghost gave a rather peculiar smile. “Hello, Sir Nicholas. I have an English name—Stephen Strange, but you may call me Doctor Strange.”

…

This black-haired, dark-eyed ghost was, of course, Xiwen. After his reincarnation, he had once again attempted to project his soul outside his body, only to discover that the form of his soul had not changed into the appearance of the young Rozier, but remained the same as when he was at Kamar-Taj.

At the time, Xiwen had tried to use soul projection at home to secretly read and save time on his studies. To his surprise, after leaving his body, he found that his soul retained the exact same appearance from his days traversing the multiverse—unchanged in every detail!

This involved his greatest secret as a transmigrator—he dared not reveal it to anyone.

Xiwen had hidden this soul for ten years. Then, right before the Sorting Ceremony, upon seeing the ghosts drifting through the castle, he suddenly conceived a brilliant idea.

With a mischievous sense of humor, he gave himself the name Stephen Strange—a name belonging to a curious young junior disciple back in Kamar-Taj, and assigned this identity to his ghostly self.

…

“Are you a doctor?” Nicholas asked curiously.

“Ah, no, I’m a doctor in the academic sense—a title from the Muggle world.” Xiwen explained, and then, after a moment’s thought, added, “But I suppose I am a doctor as well. Yes, you can think of me as one.”

“Suppose?” Nicholas’s mouth twitched a little, but since many ghosts could barely recall their lives, not being certain of one’s profession was understandable… probably.

“Well then, Doctor Strange, would you like me to show you around Hogwarts Castle?” Nicholas offered warmly.

“It would be my honor.” Xiwen replied with a graceful bow.

Nicholas led Xiwen through the castle, introducing him to the life of the ghosts who resided there.

“Hogwarts always welcomes ghosts from around the world—though, of course, only those who have been to Hogwarts in life may remain here. We have a well-organized ghostly council to manage all the spirits in the castle…”

Nicholas was undoubtedly a kind-hearted ghost. He gave Xiwen a thorough introduction to the castle and many of its resident ghosts. He also took care to warn Xiwen not to enter classrooms while students were in lessons, or the professors’ offices, to avoid disturbing their work and studies.

As they passed through a wall, they encountered a short, rotund ghost dressed in the robes of a religious cleric.

“Good evening, Nick. And who might this be?” he asked, looking at Xiwen with curiosity.

“Good evening, Friar. This is Doctor Strange, a world traveler who has just arrived at Hogwarts.” Nicholas introduced Xiwen, then turned to him. “This is the Fat Friar—he is a good-natured soul.”

Xiwen greeted him warmly. “A pleasure to meet you, Friar.”

The Fat Friar’s round face broke into a huge smile. “Ah, the pleasure is all mine, Doctor Strange. Please, just call me Fat Friar.”

The three ghosts began chatting amiably. Xiwen was eager to learn about Hogwarts’ history and its environs, while the two native ghosts were fascinated by his tales of world travel.

Fortunately, Xiwen had once used portals to seek cures for his ailments all over the globe, so he could spin convincing stories without being caught in a lie.

Suddenly, Xiwen felt something strike him—a half-rotten slipper passed through his head and thudded to the floor. He turned and saw a small ghost with wicked black eyes and a wide, grinning mouth. The creature wore a blue-and-white striped pointed hat adorned with bells, a red starry tunic, and an orange bow tie, floating in midair and leering at him.

“Look what we have here, a brand new ghost!” cackled the newcomer, flinging the other slipper at Xiwen.

“Oh, don’t do that, Peeves!” the Fat Friar scolded, a note of annoyance in his voice.

Nicholas was even more incensed. “If you don’t stop this instant, Peeves, I’ll fetch the Bloody Baron!”

Nimbly dodging the slipper, Xiwen asked curiously, “Is he a Hogwarts ghost too? How can he interact with physical objects?”

“Strictly speaking, Peeves is a poltergeist, but he is indeed under the jurisdiction of our ghostly council,” explained the Friar. “He doesn’t mean real harm—he just loves mischief.”

Nicholas cut in, “That’s enough, Friar—don’t indulge Peeves any further; you see what he’s done now!”

At that moment, Peeves produced a handful of rotten eggs from who-knows-where and began hurling them, all the while singing in a dreadful tune:

An Eastern monkey, oh so daft,
Came to the castle for a laugh,

He knows nothing of this place,
Just a silly monkey in disgrace.

Xiwen dodged the flying eggs, the corner of his mouth twitching. “At least his rhyme scheme is consistent…”

He glanced at the Friar and Nicholas. “May I teach him a little lesson?”

Before the Fat Friar could reply, Nicholas nodded briskly. “If you can, by all means—give him a proper lesson!”

…It seemed Peeves was not well-liked, Xiwen thought.

He fixed his gaze on Peeves, a spark flashing in his eyes.

Peeves, still cackling, suddenly felt the castle vanish. He was no longer at Hogwarts, but suspended above a bottomless abyss.

Since his creation as a poltergeist, Peeves had never left Hogwarts, and panic began to set in.

Abruptly, he began to fall, plummeting toward the depths. The world around him shifted from the infinite vastness of the macrocosm to the infinitely small of the microcosm, as though the entire universe sought to engulf him.

He fell, and then, with a jarring halt, began to split, his body fracturing into countless pieces, each fragment crashing into the core, driving him deeper and deeper…

Bang!

To Nicholas and the Fat Friar, Peeves suddenly froze in midair, motionless for half a minute, then plummeted to the floor.

Peeves struggled to raise his head, saw the familiar castle surroundings restored, shrieked, and fled, wobbling and unsteady, from Xiwen’s sight.

‘That felt good,’ Xiwen thought with a smile. He had long wanted to try the spell his teacher once used to scare junior disciples—now, at last, he had the chance.

The Fat Friar gave Xiwen a complicated look. “How did you do that?”

The mischievous grin faltered for a moment, and Xiwen cleared his throat, then replied solemnly, “I did not become a ghost through ordinary death. To continue my travels, I cast a spell to abandon my burdensome body and became a special kind of ghost, retaining some powers of the mind. I just cast an illusion on Peeves. Yes, that’s exactly what happened!”

“There’s such a thing as that?” Nicholas exclaimed in awe. “It seems Peeves will now have someone else to fear besides the Bloody Baron.”

…
…