Nearly Headless Nick waited outside the bathroom, saw Anthony walk out alone, and sighed in relief.
"Let's go, Professor."
Before they got close, they heard a loud-voiced boy say, "Must be Gryffindor people—"
A group of upper-years crowded together and blocked the corridor completely. Lower-year students wanting to pass held essays rolled into tubes and struggled to budge the tall bodies before them. "Excuse me—let me through—" He hunched his shoulders and wished he could shrink sharp and narrow to squeeze through the crowd.
Anthony tapped the student in front of him who was laughing at the notice with friends. The other turned around, froze, then immediately made space for him and incidentally poked the classmate in front's waist, indicating to that immediately-turning head that the professor was here.
Anthony walked smoothly into the middle of the crowd, grabbed that lower-year's elbow, and pulled him through this mass of people. In his hurried thanks, Anthony raised his eyes to read the notice above his head.
APPARITION COURSE NOTICE
Those who will be seventeen years old by August 31, 1992, may register for a twelve-week Apparition course taught by Ministry of Magic Apparition instructors.
Fee: Twelve Galleons.
Those interested in registering should sign up with their Head of House.
That last sentence was heavily traced over and tried to cover the original words underneath. Anthony could vaguely see words like "sign."
Below the notice, a line of small text in dark green ink read: "P.S., Please do not smudge, alter, or damage the notice if you are underage."
"I heard someone changed the age limit, so they canceled the notices on house bulletin boards..." Anthony heard students discussing.
Nearly Headless Nick floated above Anthony's head and said listlessly, "That's it, Professor, you saw it. A notice, many people crowding around, then several students walked through Myrtle's body... I told her long ago this would happen..."
A particularly tall student walked through Nick's calf and squeezed toward outside the crowd. The tall one frowned, shivered, and looked up trying to find who splashed ice water on his forehead, then saw Nick glaring at him angrily.
"Ugh, sorry..." the tall one said, grabbed his bag, and left.
Nearly Headless Nick said, "See? What did I say, Professor? Sigh, every ghost experiences these things..."
Anthony comforted him with a few words and walked with him toward quieter places. Nick quickly cheered up and chatted with Anthony about anecdotes among ghosts.
He said somewhat mysteriously, "The Bloody Baron's in a bad mood... I mean, even worse than before... Before he'd still hum and grumble to pass time, now he just walks around gloomily and nobody knows what he's thinking..."
Except for the opening feast, Anthony hadn't seen much of the Bloody Baron. He looked at Nearly Headless Nick surprised and wondered how he could tell that gaunt, blank-faced ghost's mood.
"I hope he'll get better soon," Anthony said politely perfunctorily.
"Oh, no," Nick said. "This is quite good. He should change his mood. Before when Slytherin kept winning the House Cup, the Bloody Baron's appearance... really annoying... Not just me, other ghosts couldn't stand it either. We all think his dejected look is quite nice."
"We? You and...?" He couldn't imagine the Fat Friar gossiping behind people's backs, and Nearly Headless Nick didn't look like he'd discuss these things with Myrtle.
Nick said, "With my friends. Professor, you don't think ghosts are all like Myrtle, staying in their own cubicles, never socializing with others? I have about..." He thought for a moment and elegantly waved his hand to sweep the math problem aside. "Many friends. Of course, most are dead... Some even if not dead now, will die in the future."
Anthony had to admit he was completely right.
He said, "I hope Myrtle can also find some friends."
That girl needed friends to talk to... Toilets might be faithful listeners but probably not suitable conversation partners. Probably.
"Ah, I can only hold faint hope for that. Speaking of which, Myrtle respects you very much, Professor," Nick said somewhat admiringly. "Last time Peeves wanted to put dead rats at your office door, Myrtle directly flushed the rat to the first floor. Though, I remember you have a cat?"
Anthony nodded. "That's right, but I doubt it would appreciate Peeves' little gift."
Most likely his cat would slap the rat to Professor Quirrell's door and add a bit more excitement to that pale, nervous professor's new day.
"At least Mrs. Norris loves them," Nick said. "She practically flew to find Filch."
Anthony smiled. "That's good."
Because the Fat Friar seemed to have something he wanted to tell Nick, Anthony said goodbye to Nick and toured the castle himself. Lacking guide and companion, he momentarily didn't know where to go.
When he passed a noblewoman's portrait for the third time (that noblewoman hid her face behind a large feather fan, only showed two eyes, and giggled with her female companion watching him), he suddenly remembered the magical room the Weasley twins mentioned—that room where they watched meteors.
He stopped before a tapestry of a troll in a tutu, recalled the tricks the house-elves in the kitchen and the twins told him, and closed his eyes before the blank wall to concentrate.
I need a safe place... he thought. Please give me a safe place, separate me from others... A place where I can safely research flesh magic and Necromancy...
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