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Having spoken this much, the plump friar naturally couldn't just turn around and leave. To raise someone's curiosity and then abruptly stop would surely earn him a rather harsh punishment—though whether ghosts even have the anatomy to suffer such consequences is still up for debate. That said, the friar wasn't one for such malicious tricks.
On the contrary, his personality was considered the most amiable and benevolent among Hogwarts' ghosts, a trait that contrasted amusingly with the bandolier of machine-gun rounds draped across his chest.
"Are you sure you want to hear the rest, Harry?" the friar asked Harry one last time.
"Of course, Friar, if you're willing to share it with me."
"Well then, we'd better find a place where no one else can overhear."
The friar gestured towards an empty room nearby and promptly floated through the wall. Harry conjured a chair and, like an attentive student listening to a professor's lecture, sat upright and leaned in.
"Ahem," the friar cleared his throat dramatically before speaking in a hollow tone. "The story begins 102 years ago. I remember it vividly. It was 1890, an unstable time."
"At least for the wizarding world, that era was far from peaceful."
"Perhaps it was due to Muggles. Wizards from various nations began to interact and communicate more frequently, leading to an increase in trade—and chaos. The period saw countless poacher gangs and rogue groups rise to prominence. Unfortunately, Hogwarts' headmaster at the time, Phineas Nigellus Black, was far from competent. And yes, I am speaking ill of him, for Hogwarts was in a deplorable state under his leadership. Black was a scoundrel who had no idea what he was doing. He turned a blind eye to the influence of those gangs on Hogwarts students and neglected the management of the Forbidden Forest—or the Dark Forest, as it was sometimes called back then."
"At that time, the Forbidden Forest wasn't as expansive as it is today. But as the only large, naturally magic-rich area in England, it was home to countless magical creatures. This, of course, made it a prime target for poachers. I've never doubted that there was some form of tacit agreement or underhanded dealings between Headmaster Black and those poachers."
"Then, on September 1, 1890—Hogwarts' first day of term—a student arrived late. No one knew where he had studied before, but he transferred directly into his fifth year. He was sorted into Hufflepuff, which, to me, was a source of great pride."
The friar puffed out his chest with a sense of accomplishment.
"Stellaris Scourge. That was the boy's name. An unusual name, isn't it? Who in the world has a surname that literally means 'calamity'? Ironically, his arrival truly brought disaster to Hogwarts."
"But the disaster didn't strike the castle; it erupted in the Forbidden Forest."
"For the first month, Stellaris behaved no differently from other young wizards. He attended classes attentively, devouring knowledge with great enthusiasm. Perhaps it was because he had never experienced such a well-structured magical education before. Many of his basics were lacking, particularly in charms—so much so that he lagged behind second- and third-year students."
"Yet he was one of the most gifted students I've ever seen at Hogwarts. The second would be your mother, wouldn't it, Sir Nicholas?"
The friar turned to Sir Nicholas, who nodded. His head wobbled dangerously before he quickly steadied it with his hand to prevent it from detaching.
"Yes, your mother, Lily Evans, was incredibly gifted. She was adored by all the professors. No subject was too challenging for her. She was a natural-born witch; her brilliance defied description."
"Exactly," the friar resumed. "Stellaris Scourge was much the same. In fact, his magical talent surpassed even your mother's. He only needed to learn a spell once to master it flawlessly, and his spellwork was far more powerful than any other student's. But he was also a mischievous child who loved playing games with animals."
"For example, he would cast a rolling charm to make grazing cows spin in the air. He had a deep fondness for magical creatures—yes, deep fondness—even though his pranks sometimes went too far. He never hurt them."
"His aptitude in Care of Magical Creatures was exceptional, and he delighted in caring for magical beings. However, one incident—something I only heard about, as I didn't witness it—stood out. One of the Snidgets he had been looking after escaped into the Forbidden Forest. Many students saw him venture into the forest to retrieve it."
"Everyone thought he wouldn't make it back. The forest was crawling with poachers—thousands of them, not just from England but from Australia, America, and even Africa. They came for profit, drawn to the forest's unmanaged abundance of magical creatures, which they saw as walking Galleons."
"The next morning, Stellaris returned—empty-handed. I saw him surrounded by students asking questions, but he answered none. Yet I could tell something was deeply wrong. He was angry—an anger I had never seen before."
The friar shuddered. "His eyes were like a volcano about to erupt, with molten fury hidden beneath a dark, hardened shell. He suppressed a fire capable of consuming everything."
"To be honest, I worried for that boy. He was the epitome of a Hufflepuff: humble, unassuming, kind-hearted, and compassionate. He loved sharing food and took great joy in cooking. If I weren't a ghost, I'd have loved to try his honey-glazed fried pork with vinegar. Incidentally, it was around that time that Hufflepuffs started the tradition of collecting different vinegar flavors."
"From that day forward, Stellaris threw himself into his studies with an obsessive fervor. He absorbed knowledge voraciously, spending at least 20 of the 24 hours a day between classrooms and the library. This intense period of study lasted about a month."
"Then, on Halloween night, as the students and faculty were enjoying the Halloween feast in the Great Hall, they saw a massive firework rise into the sky through the enchanted ceiling."
"Everyone rushed to the castle entrance, where they watched as more fireworks exploded over the Forbidden Forest, scattering sparks across the night sky. I swear, it was the most beautiful sight I've ever seen."
"But that marked the beginning of chaos in the Forbidden Forest."
The friar took a deep breath—a curious gesture for a ghost—and puffed out his chest, causing his bandolier to stretch taut, as if to steady his emotions.
"A week later, rumors began circulating around Hogwarts. It was said that an extremely rare magical creature had appeared in the Forbidden Forest. No one could name it, but they all knew it could emit explosive sparks, powerful enough to destroy an entire poacher camp."
"In the magical world, the stronger the magical ability of a creature, the rarer it is, and the higher its value. The more powerful magic it can wield, the more valuable magical materials it can produce, such as magical cores. Countless wealthy alchemists wave around ancient Gringotts checks with long strings of zeros to acquire these critical ingredients for alchemy. The poachers went wild, desperate to capture this mysterious, terrifying creature, hoping to seize a fortune they could then waste on indulgences."
"But I know the creature they were talking about doesn't exist in the Forbidden Forest, because that very night, very late, I saw a bruised and battered figure return to the Hufflepuff common room. He looked as if he had been soaked in blood. From a distance, I could smell the sharp scent of blood, even though he had already cleaned himself up; the scent still lingered."
"Ghosts can smell?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Of course not," the Fat Friar made a face. "I'm just making an analogy. After all, I participated in wars. I'm sensitive to the scent of blood, and the atmosphere of violence."
He patted the chain of shells across his chest. "Back in the day, I was one of those warriors on the battlefield, fighting with my wand in hand."
"But weren't you in logistics?" Sir Nicholas glanced at the Fat Friar. Although they were from different eras, they both graduated from Hogwarts, so they understood the structure of the school well. Back then, Hogwarts had a much more cooperative environment between the houses.
Hufflepuff students rarely went to the front lines during wars. Their roles were more critical behind the scenes. Though Hufflepuff did produce some well-rounded warriors, the Fat Friar clearly wasn't one of them—otherwise, he wouldn't have been stunned by a Muggle electric shock and tied to a pole like a pig ready to be slaughtered.
"Am I not allowed to…" The Fat Friar shot a glare at Sir Nicholas, then muttered weakly, "…Well, I guess it counts."
"Ahem," the Fat Friar cleared his throat again. "Let's get back to the story about Seterius."
"That night, I saw him covered in injuries, so I approached and asked if he needed me to fetch the school nurse. He had several wounds from curses—likely from explosion and slashing charms—but he shook his head, saying he didn't need any help. He even asked me to keep it secret and not tell anyone else."
"I was worried about him, but I agreed. Harry, aside from you, I didn't tell anyone about this. Not because no one asked me, but because I'm trustworthy."
"You remember that, okay? Don't tell anyone."
The Fat Friar noticed Sir Nicholas's amused expression and, slightly annoyed, spoke up, "Telling Harry isn't breaking my promise. You're a ghost, Nicholas. You're not human, and Harry isn't either."
"Hmm???" Harry, now a little confused, stared at the Fat Friar. When did the fact that he wasn't human become public knowledge?
"I'm not insulting you, Harry. Here's the thing," the Fat Friar quickly added when he saw Harry's confused expression. "Seterius told me that if I meet anyone like him in the future, I should share this story. He said: 'I don't want to be a famous celebrity, standing on a podium to receive an award. That would be too stupid. But it would be a shame not to share this interesting experience. If you meet anyone like me, I don't know if I'm still human, but if they ask about me, you can tell them this: At the end of the spiral corridor, when the clock points to both the end and the beginning, the stars are to the northwest, and the time is exactly 10:55.'"
"He said he would leave a secret there, one that only people like him could see, so I didn't have to worry about getting the wrong person. Those who can't see it will never see it."
"But as his friend, or even… admirer," the Fat Friar didn't try to hide his feelings for Seterius, though admitting that someone was his idol was a bit awkward for a ghost who had lived for centuries, "I made sure I was careful about who I could tell."
"Actually, it wasn't just you asking about him. But I didn't think they were like Seterius, so I never told them. You were the first person I told everything to, after you asked about him."
"What about my mom?" Harry asked, curious.
"Lily…" The Fat Friar sighed, clearly regretful. "I did want to tell her, but she seemed to be a bit resistant to Seterius. Maybe she knew something about him? I'm not sure what she thought."
"Harry, I noticed you when you first came to Hogwarts. But I thought it was too early to tell a first-year student about all this. I was planning to wait until you were older."
"By the way, do you want to hear more? There's still some time before lights out. I could tell you more about what happened in the Forbidden Forest, like the poachers' treasure. Seterius completely cleared out the entire Forbidden Forest in the three years before graduation. It was something unimaginable. Honestly, if I had even a tenth of his combat ability, I wouldn't have been ambushed by Muggles with an electric shock gun."
The Fat Friar's face fell slightly. He didn't mind talking about his death, even though he treated it as a bit of a joke, but every time he spoke about it, there was still some regret.
"The Muggles of my time were truly awful. Couldn't they stand the thought of a thirty-year-old pope coming to power?"
"Tell me about it," Harry shrugged. "Jealousy makes people ugly. The more noble a person is, the more vile they can be. Want me to tell you a joke about a priest, a boy, and a demon?"
"Oh?" The Fat Friar raised an eyebrow, curious, and nodded.
"A boy was suspected of being possessed by a demon, so a righteous priest took him to the church's chapel. He cleared the room and began the exorcism ritual under the watch of the Holy Father."
"The priest angrily shouted, 'Damn demon, get out of this poor boy's body!'"
"Clearly, the priest's exorcism was very effective, and the demon spoke up, cursing the priest, 'You get out of him first!'"
The Fat Friar suddenly stopped, his eyes narrowing, and he gritted his teeth, "I should've hung every last one of you on the pyre to burn you alive! Burn you all, you scum!"
(End of chapter)