Deadpool's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes for the first two days received rave reviews. Wade had been shocked that Dumbledore had not come to his senses. His running theory was that whatever was in those lemon drops still put Dumbledore loopy. Still, Deadpool decided to give the benefit of his wisdom of the dark arts and how disturbed the individuals. Perhaps if they were lucky, he would tell them the best way to kill a giant was with a giant bazooka. Of course, Deadpool tried to stop a rampaging Hulk with one and got trampled. It was the most painful death he received that week.
A loud "tut" brought Deadpool out of his mental recap. The solemn and morose face of Nearly Headless Nick clutched a letter in his hand.
"Again!" Nick yelled. "They…they can't have….they should just let me in. This is discrimination!"
'Someone get this ghost a Tumblr,' Deadpool thought.
"Hey, Nick, you hanging in there just fine?" Deadpool asked.
Nick's attention focused on Deadpool. His head cracked and hung by one inch of flesh. Nick put his hands on the side of his neck and slid his head back on his shoulders. "Yes, and that's a problem. My head is hanging in there despite constant efforts to try and find a way to remove it. And then, I've received a letter saying that once again my membership to the Headless Hunt has been denied."
It was hard not to feel bad for Sir Nicholas and his very unfortunate flight. Deadpool placed a hand through Nick's shoulder and felt like a bucket of cold water came on him.
"Yeah, man, that sucks," Deadpool said. "There's a very obvious and disgusting case of discrimination here. If you ask me, they should check their headless privilege."
Nick took a few seconds to ponder his flight. He would have loved nothing better to get into the Headless Hunt to just say he had. The lack of inclusion made Nick's afterlife become quite hollow.
"My five hundredth deathday approaches," Nick said.
"Congratulations, I think," Deadpool said in a very uncertain tone of voice.
Nick nodded so fast that his head almost slipped off his shoulders. If it slipped completely off, Nick would have been so happy. Instead, it just hung there very awkward.
"Exactly how did you come to be almost headless anyway?" Deadpool asked. "I know about the entire failed decapitation, but how…."
"Tax evasion," Nick said. "I thought I could cheat the King on paying my fair share of taxes. He disagreed."
"Well that makes sense," Deadpool said. "That's how they got Al Capone…well before the syphilis did."
Nick shrugged his shoulders. He spent the last one of every one of his last four hundred and ninety-nine years, ten months, and one week thinking about what might have happened if he had not had been given the misfortune of such an incompetent executor.
"No ghost guillotine exists, no ghost knives….."
"Hey, Nick!" Peeves yelled. "Heads up and off!"
Something glowed when wrapped between the fingers of Peeves and hope entered Nick's eyes. A knife flew out of the corner and flew through Nick's small sliver of skin and almost hit Deadpool. Peeves blew a raspberry at the end of the hallway.
"You'd think that would get annoying after a while," Nick said in a morose voice. "Because he does that to mock me every time he does. One time I think…he might have found ghost blade and this is the time that Poltergeist actually does some good and lops off my head properly. But, no, he just lives to annoy me."
"He can be a bit of a troll," Deadpool admitted.
"I wouldn't say that Peeves in any way looks like a troll," Nick said. "They have much better hygiene for instance."
Deadpool opened his mouth and was about to explain that wasn't anywhere what he meant. Nick peered at the letter.
"How do ghosts send mail anyway?" Deadpool asked. "Actually, how are you even holding that letter? Doesn't everything just go through you?"
The universe righted itself with the letter falling through Nick's fingers. He sighed and moved over. He hovered in a cross-legged position.
"There are times where I wish I could end it all," Nick said. "Then, I realize it's already over and there's nothing end. I'd be doomed to eternity as nothing but a ghost with an improperly decapitated head because they couldn't even bother to sharpen a blade."
"Wow, this Headless Hunt is a big deal," Deadpool said.
"Yes, hundreds of ghosts who have been decapitated have been invited to join because they lost their heads clearly before passing on," Nick said.
"So, is there something about losing your head that makes you come back as a ghost?" Deadpool asked.
Nick only responded with a remorseful sigh. He kept throwing his head back as if thinking that it would remove the strand of flesh. Every time Nick failed to do it, he sighed. Filch walked out of the side corridor with Mrs. Norris following at his heels.
"He didn't get in, did he?" Filch asked.
"No," Deadpool said.
"Have some dignity, mate!" Filch yelled at Nick. "Things could be worse. You could be forced to clean up after a bunch of magical brats for the rest of your life because that's the only job you're qualified for."
Filch stopped and realized how depressing this was. He held up the bleach and considered his options before deciding it was not worth it. Knowing his karma, he would be forced to work here for all eternity even as a ghost.
"You two…I'm going to go hang out with Myrtle," Deadpool said. "She's just a bit more cheerful than the two of you."
Deadpool departed the scene and only walked about thirteen and three-quarters steps before a large regal owl with a pompous demeanor appeared in front of Deadpool. It held a large brown package in his hand. The package dropped on his head before the owl disappeared.
The mysterious package put in front of Deadpool's hands made him very curious. And when something made him very curious, it was only natural for Deadpool to want to delve deeper into the package. He opened up the package and a very old diary fell out.
"Mysterious diary is mysterious," Deadpool said. "It says it belongs to good old TM Riddle…whoever that is?"
Deadpool would have liked to see that name rang a bell. He just could not really put who this mysterious gentleman was. The copyright date of this diary looked to be about fifty years ago. Deadpool flipped through the diary.
"Why would someone send me a diary which was written in fifty years ago?" Deadpool asked. "Could they be a time traveler? Could they be someone pulling my leg?"
It was very odd that the book enticed Deadpool so much. He thought about turning it into Professor Dumbledore.
"On the second thought, I want to keep this book around," Deadpool said. "Maybe, the person who sent it to me will reveal himself. Given how Dumbledore seems to be huffing gasoline these days, I wouldn't want to burden him."
"THINK FAST!"
Three bottles of ink flew through the air and smashed over Deadpool. The book knocked open and Peeves chunked a fourth bottle of ink at him. The ink smashed onto the floor and splattered all over the open pages of the book.
The Poltergeist adopted the classic hands on hip pose when looking towards Deadpool. Deadpool shook his fist at him.
"You were supposed to think fast, Willy!" Peeves cackled.
Deadpool watched as Peeves zoomed off into the distance. He turned his attention to a whistling girl off to the side. Luna Lovegood stepped around the corner wearing nothing other than a potato sack and a pair of slippers. Deadpool stared at the girl for a minute.
"Luna, where are your robes?" Deadpool asked.
"I think I must have misplaced them," Luna said. "Or, Malgoth took them, mistaking them for socks."
"Malgoth?" Deadpool asked.
"Yes, Malgoth," Luna repeated. "You know, those socks which end up missing and don't have mates? Well, it turns out they don't end up missing. They are stealing by an interdimensional entity who feasts off of socks. He never can take both socks, just one sock. He socks them into a hole where they disappear."
"Well, they have to be some place," Deadpool said.
"Yes, someplace," Luna said. "But they are in a place where no man dares to trend."
Luna's eyes shifted to the book in Deadpool's ink.
"How very peculiar," Luna said. "It appears this book has been created from the egg sacs of Wrackspurts. That's the only reason why it's making your mind all fuzzy. And make you want to read a book where there's nothing here. Poachers,…they can be quite nasty, especially against rare creatures."
The quirky Ravenclaw answered with a sigh.
"No wondered Crumple-Horned Snorkack is so shy," Luna said. "She fears those poachers."
"Yeah, there are a lot of people who just get off on hunting," Deadpool said. "I've got stories to tell you about this guy, Kravinoff, he's really sick in the head. I'd do his wife though, you know she's got to be into some freaky stuff."
"Oh, you mean like doing bobbing for apples in maple syrup?" Luna asked.
"Yeah, something like that," Deadpool said. "I hope your robes reappear."
"They normally do," Luna said. "Good luck and….I wonder if the Pixies have made Professor Lockhart their new Queen yet?"
Deadpool did not bother to correct Luna on his statement. A small part of him wondered what happened to Lockhart. Deadpool's attentions span diverted to trying to figure out the home of this mystical sock stealing creature Luna spoke of.
Oh, and also trying to figure out this diary which absorbed the ink into the page like it was a sponge who may or not have been wearing square pants.
A ragged Gilderoy Lockhart ran his way through the woods. This would make a hell of a book if he survived long enough. The Pixies were bored of playing with him and dropped him off in the wilderness.
'I swear, you take one group of creatures away from their natural habitat and they get way too offended by it.'
Lockhart's eyes glazed over. It took him a couple of seconds to realize where the hell he was and more importantly which direction he had to go. Lockhart turned his head back about an inch and then back around. He coughed.
The foul smell penetrated the air. Lockhart collapsed on the edge of a picket fence and took a deep breath. The sound of Banjo music echoed through the air.
'I got away from the Pixies. I have to get back to the school. I'm going to get that Poltergeist for doing this, and that caretaker. And Harry Potter, I'll get him as well…he's done…he made me look stupid!"
Lockhart picked himself up against the fence. The loud strumming of Banjo music got even louder.
"YEE-HAW!"
A gruff looking gentleman wearing overalls and a straw hat with half of his teeth missing stepped over. He wore work boots which looked like it went through the ringer.
"Hey, fellas, look here," he drawled. "We've got a visitor on our property."
"Man, that's just trespassing."
A larger thicker gentleman who was shaved completely bald stepped out. The wife beater top caused the man's great belly to come out. He waddled over to the fence.
"Hang on, Billy-Bob," the hick said. "I think that fellow is lost. He came from that done magical forest."
A third hick, who was about half of the size of the first two and dressed in what appeared to be a car mechanics uniform came in. He wore his hair in a Mohawk and spat chew all over the ground.
"And you know what's up in that forest," the shortest of the three Hicks said.
"That them magical ponies!" the first hick yelled.
They all whooped and started to dance. The men of the soil all stopped when seeing their visitor staggering over. He hung onto the fence.
"Boy, you better stand up straight!" one of them yelled. "You're going to done hurt yourself, and that could be one of them liabilities on this property."
"I need to get back to the castle," Lockhart said. "I'm going to get him. I'm going to get them all. I'm going to Plunder that Poltergeist."
"You see that guy right there. He's crazy!"
Lockhart wondered if he had seen the last of those pixies. He came face to face with three gentlemen who did not look very kept.
"I just to get back to Hogwarts," Lockhart said.
"Hogwarts?" one of the men asked. "Why would a hog have warts?"
"Isn't that what happened to your sister?" one of the hicks asked.
"Nah, my Mama," the hick said. "Who might be my sister come to think of it. Pa didn't really tell me one way or another, bless him."
Lockhart wondered what he blundered into.
"Look!" Lockhart yelled. "I need to get to Hogwarts."
"Man, I know what he is," the third hick said. "Hogwarts must be one of those kinky clubs where you tie the person up and shove something up his hind end."
Lockhart's eyes widened in response. Where was that Banjo Music coming from anywhere? Lockhart reached for his wand, only to realize he didn't happen?
"Man, you must be one of those call girls!" one of the hicks said.
"No, I'm a teacher…."
"Well, we don't have much for that fancy learning," the hick said. "But, hey we might be able to help you. We'll get you fixed up all nice and proper like. People around here, they don't fancy those city folks."
"Yeah, there's Old Man Smith up by them hills," he said. "He hunts city folk down and cooks them for dinner."
"He cooks people for dinner!" Lockhart yelled.
"Shush, son," Billy-Bob said. "You don't want to be too loud. You see, he hates the noise more than anything. Well, other than opera music."
Lockhart's face dropped in confusion. "But, I like opera mus….."
One of the hicks put a rag over Lockhart's face and caused him to black out. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher dropped to his knees having been put down by the foul stench of the grease soaked rag.
"Quick get his clothes off!" Billy-Bob yelled.
"Is this the part where take him in the hind hole?" the third hick asked. "My Pa got taken in the hind hole by some grey space men."
"We ain't taking anyone in no hind hole," Billy-Bob said. "Now, help me get his clothes off and get him into something more respectable…..and give this hippie a haircut."
"I've got the sheep sheers!"
The rednecks proceeded to shave Gilderoy Lockhart's hair as he quivered unconscious on the ground.
"Man, he's got all of his dang-gum teeth. We better get a hammer, or he'll be outed as one of city folks."
A shaven and soon to be naked and toothless Gilderoy Lockhart was given a Hillbilly Makeover by these three friendly gentlemen.