Round 10 for Quidditch League
Chudley Cannons
Keeper
Write from the point of view of Nicholas the Ghost
Six centuries I've roamed this castle, and I'm beginning to get a little tired of it.
The students are refreshed every year, completely replaced, fresh and doe-eyed. I watch them grow and learn, from their first spell to their final NEWT exam. But it's hard to maintain a connection when they leave every seven years, rarely returning, never to see me. And the other Hogwarts ghosts are certainly not friends I would have chosen for myself.
Days run into each other. I have learnt everything I can, seen everything there is to see. Food is tasteless, simply a colourful pastime I can only watch others enjoy. Music grates my ears. I would do anything to taste sweet melon or hot mashed potato, fluffy in my mouth. Or to feel the grass underfoot, the pollen tickling my nose. I miss my family, my friends, the wind on my face. I can't forget, the idea of death now intrigues me. Everything that happens I've seen before. Wizard duels, grotesque potions, fights, feasts. It's hard to get engrossed in Quidditch when you've seen six hundred school championships before.
But Slytherin's heir. This is new.
Of course, I remember fifty years ago, when the Chamber of Secrets was last opened. It provided the school with a new ghost - Myrtle Warren. A great shame considering her age. She's hardly a great contribution to conversation around the castle. But the matter was cleared up, Rubeus Hagrid was expelled and life went on as normal. Until now.
We are summoned to Professor Dumbledore's office and he gravely tells us that Hogwarts is at the risk of closing. Of course I was quick to offer up my expertise and courage. Dumbledore must know that I, as well as all the ghosts, will stand with his every decision. Now we must escort the students to and from lessons, to the bathroom, to the library. They can't go anywhere alone. Suddenly we're on watch every hour of the day. No one can leave the common room after dark. Anything mysterious must be reported immediately to the headmaster. Despite being worried about the state of the school, it's hard not to be a little excited. Gossip runs awfully dry between the ghosts after all these centuries, and it's nice to have something else to talk about and discuss at length rather than the long evenings of arguing between Peeves and the Bloody Baron.
Two attacks and the castle is in panic. I can't say I like Mrs Norris, with her creepy eyes and habit of turning up at the wrong times, but I certainly wouldn't wish such a fate on her. On any cat. And of course, Filch is devastated. I tried to offer my condolences but he told me to go away - only just not that politely.
I visit our very own Colin Creevey, in the hospital wing, pale and sickly against the white pillow. His cabinet filled with cards and grapes, but Madame Pomfrey informs me that he will not be awoken until the mandrakes are fully grown. It could be weeks. I just want to comfort young Colin, reach him through the darkness. He is too young to be victim of what we cannot protect our students from. I leave feeling very dispirited. What has Hogwarts come to?
The Gryffindors are getting worn down by it all. The cancelling of clubs caused outrage, but things only started getting serious when the Quidditch Championship was postponed. The common room is a dull place to be now, no longer the buzzing centre of laughter and noise, now near silent bar the scratching of quill on parchment. Harry Potter, one of the students I keep the closet eye on, is near depressed. I've heard the chants and rumours. People think he's the heir, that he's picking on mudbloods. When the Fat Friar asked me about it I haughtily told him that Harry Potter was the kindest and fairest wizard I had ever had the pleasure of knowing. How people could think that Harry is responsible, I'll never know. He's obviously close friends with Hermione Granger, and he himself is a half-blood. I tried to pass on some comforting words, but he just nodded dumbly. I like to think that I am his closest confidante, but he's obviously reclusive with all the attention. I had a few sharp words with Peeves about what he chants around school, but he just cackled and zoomed off. It's hard to exert my natural authority when I'm surrounded by those such as Peeves; thoughtless and uncaring.
But I'll continue to for see my duties nobly, not fussing like the Bloody Baron does too often, or pulling pranks like Peeves. It's our job to keep Hogwarts safe, and I take pride in doing it.
I'm patrolling the corridors when I hear a footsteps a little way off. We have strict instructions; no one wandering the corridors. Hoping to find a lead, I hurry to the source of the sound. A boy, his hair dark, his face pale. He doesn't seem to be doing anything offensive.
"Excuse me?" I call out loudly.
The boy turns, and I recognise him; Justin Flinch-Fletchley. He's in Hufflepuff, recognisable by the yellow badge on his robes. He's looking at me, then his eyes refocus beyond me and his face is frozen with shock and fear.
I turn, and something yellow blurs in my vision.
Everything goes black.
And something I haven't experienced since my death.
Oblivion.