The feeling of importance made the words "I didn't want to come" stick in Ian's throat; he clearly felt the others' reactions to his use of "craftsmanship spirit."
"Happy holidays, gentlemen, and ladies." Ian could only grit his teeth and accept reality. He looked around; the classroom was filled with over a hundred ghosts celebrating Halloween.
There was a group of exuberant nuns swaying in the dance floor, souls in tattered clothes with chains sitting gloomily on the ground, sighing. Ghosts with arrows in their foreheads started chatting with the Fat Monk, and the skeletal ghost of Slytherin, Bloodman Barrow, also looked displeased.
Ian didn't see Lady Little Ravenclaw here, so he had no way to continue his persuasion efforts; the freezing classroom was bustling with activity.
Golden plates were scattered all over the table, but they were filled with rotten meat, fruits, and vegetables. Fortunately, the underground classroom was very cold, otherwise, the stench would have been unbearable—actually, it was quite smelly, with big chunks of beef crawling with maggots and cheese covered in green mold together.
Charred bread and meat pies oozing foul-smelling liquid were present, and Ian couldn't find anything edible. He also saw a large, tombstone-shaped gray cake on the long table.
This was probably the only somewhat normal thing, with dense frosting writing on it: Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.
Died: October 31, 1492.
The cake was evidently for Nearly Headless Nick. Today was not only Halloween but also the anniversary of his death.
"Happy Deathday, Sir."
Ian felt his blessing was a bit awkward, but fortunately, the ghosts didn't mind. Nearly Headless Nick even bowed in gratitude to Ian.
"Hardly any little wizards are willing to attend our party because we belong neither to the human world nor the other side. Your presence is my happiest moment tonight."
This was a polite, kind-hearted, and helpful ghost. Because of this, Ian's words of farewell were again held back.
He truly wanted to quickly research the secrets of the Gaunt Clan!
Frustrating!
Wanted to cry!
"I hope you enjoy yourself here." Nearly Headless Nick extended his hand to Ian, who forced a smile and shook the ghost's cold hand.
"Indeed, you are special, making me feel the sense of touch again..." Nearly Headless Nick seemed lost for a moment before hastily apologizing and letting go of Ian's hand.
With new ghosts arriving, he hurriedly went to greet them. At this moment, Helena Ravenclaw came in, immediately spotting Ian, bright among the ghosts.
"Didn't expect Little Ian to attend the ghosts' party." Helena Ravenclaw floated over curiously, sniffing pointedly at the table in front of Ian.
"Can you really feel the taste of food this way?" Ian, finally encountering a familiar ghost, couldn't resist voicing his confusion.
"Just a little bit, it's better than not being able to smell at all." Helena Ravenclaw maintained her ladylike composure, unlike the Fat Monk not far away who shoved his head into a pile of rotten meat.
"Ghosts have little entertainment, lacking the senses they had when alive, yet we still have memories. For many ghosts, this is a consequence of choosing to escape," Helena Ravenclaw looked at the stage, where a ghostly singer was demonstrating true artistic bacteria.
The hall resounded with wails akin to the witch's cry from Left 4 Dead.
"Choices can always be made, as long as one truly looks forward." Ian still remembered his promise to Lady Ravenclaw, covering his ears as he moved closer to Helena Ravenclaw.
"I know you mean well, but look at the ghosts here, growing in numbers over the years. Sometimes what you consider may not be a choice for us." Helena Ravenclaw responded to Ian's persuasion as she had several times before, while Ian repeatedly didn't know how to invite Helena Ravenclaw over at a suitable evening.
"Are you free tomorrow night?" Ian checked the time, realizing it was past midnight. After calculating the time, he finally spoke, but his voice sounded a bit embarrassed.
"Hmm?" Helena Ravenclaw looked at Ian with a peculiar gaze, clearly misunderstanding, "Little Ian, are you planning a date with a ghost who's hundreds of years old?"
"Your thoughts are quite impure." After saying this, Helena Ravenclaw patted Ian's head with a smile and then floated towards familiar ghosts.
"..."
Ian didn't expect his failure to come so swiftly; perhaps he should be forthright? But ghosts found it hard to keep secrets, and he didn't want the entire school knowing he could traverse between two worlds.
"She doesn't like you, I like... Little guy, you really can touch ghosts, heavens, what a marvelous ability." After finishing her song, the witch ghost floated over.
She seemed to be a ghost specially invited by the other ghosts, not usually residing at Hogwarts, she floated over, having heard about Ian, and touched his arm.