Insanity. The homework was pure insanity.
"Lockhart is freaking mad. Hermione, when will we need to know, where his ideal vacation would be? It doesn't tie in anywhere and is a one off conversation!" Ron argued with the smartest witch in their grade. He rather be working on anything else.
"It's obviously being used to make sure we do the reading Ronald," Hermione defended.
"When will it ever be needed? Mione be reasonable," Ron responded easily. Harry and Neville looked at one another with knowing looks.
"It's a first assignment, he's probably trying to make the assignment simple."
Harry and Neville began facing each other, shaking their fists two times before Harry revealed scissors and Neville revealed paper. Neville's head lowered as Ron replied, "It's near impossible to find in this freaking book! I could tell you sooner how he actually beat the Yeti."
"Hey guys? As pointless as it is to know that detail about Lockhart, can't we at least get the homework done and forget about it?"
"But-!" Ron and Hermione said in tandem.
"Does it really matter? If it's just to find the information, does it really matter if we remember it?"
"Well no," Ron admitted.
"That is such a bad habit-" Hermione began.
"Hermione," Neville interrupted, "When will we ever need this information?"
Hermione huffed at the comment, but couldn't think of a reason to know where Gilderoy Lockhart's ideal vacation spot would be.
Days fell into a rhythm as Halloween drew closer. He kept letters from his dad and Aunt Tasha in a small box. Mainly his dad though. He was looking at the most recent. Chuckling at the messy handwriting from his dad russing earlier when he had time to write, smoothing out when he wrote more after the mission was complete.
He assumed his dad was doing a mission in Russia when he sent the letter. In the faster paced writing, a few Russian words slipped into his scrawl. Ron still had arguements with Hermione over the apparent uselessness of Lockhart's class and how he had been practicing his most recent spell from Strange under the table with a quill. His wand at the ready to to float the quill back to his free hand. Thankfully, it rarely drew in attention from Lockhart's flashy teaching.
Harry seemed to be a bit more tired lately though. He said it was nothing but Ron wasn't so sure. Perhaps it was just due to the upcoming aniversary of his parent's death. He didn't seem as agitated last year though.
It was only after a terribly stormy Quidditch practice, because nothing could convince Wood it was a bad time to practice, that Ron and Harry came in sopping wet, both eager for towels and a warm fire to sit by that the monotonous days were broken up. They wanted to forget the reports from Fred and George over how fast the Slytherin brooms were, as well as the harsh whipping winds and bullet like rain drops.
Though it was a bit of a mystery how Harry and Ron ended up in the halls alone when everyone was heading back to the dorms to warm up, it did lead them to a peculiar sight of Sir Nicholas muttering about something, preoccupied in his own world.
"Half an inch... Just shy of..."
Ron had no idea what the ghost was talking about.
"Hello Nick," Harry greeted. Ron raised a brow at Harry before also greeting Nick.
"Ah, Hello Harry. Hello Ronald."
"It's Ron," Ron corrected. He didn't really mind Ronald from family, but it felt odd from a legitimate dead person when they already shortened his name.
Nearly Headless Nick hummed at the comment.
"Is something the matter boys?"
"Just some wet weather training," Ron replied.
"What about you Nick?" Harry inquired.
"Oh. Nothing you should worry yourself with," he said morosely. Ron raised a brow, slightly more curious about what could really upset a ghost. Sure he had heard rumors of a chronically depressed ghost somewhere in the castle, but wouldn't that somehow be different?
"Something's clearly up," Ron commented, not really thinking about lowering his voice until after he had spoken.
"Ah, yes. It's just that my death day is fast approaching," Nick answered somewhat vaguely. Ron felt his face contort with confusion, as did Harry's with news. "As it is, I have recieved a letter from the members of the Headless Hunt. Really a matter of no importance... It's not as if I really wanted to join... Thought I'd apply, but apparently, I don't fulfill the requirements."
It was during his vague speech that Ron noticed a transparent letter that only brought forth rather startling questions. Ghosts had a mail system? Did ghost owls deliver? Were ghost animals real? For that matter, how would they even write? Parchment couldn't die. And niether could ink. His head hurt with the growing questions.
"You would think, wouldn't you, that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify one to join the Headless hunt?"
"Oh- Yes," Harry answered for both himself and Ron who was internally reminding himself to pawn all the questions off on Hermione when he saw her next. Or maybe Neville would know. He did grow up in an all magical home afterall. Sir Nick kept talking when Ron noticed a familiar feline with impressive yellow eyes. Ms. Norris the cat. Familiar of Filch. It was seeing her that made him painfully aware of thier dripping robes from thier nasty quidditch practice. Which could only mean Filch was nearby. Ron smacked Harry's shoulder, both interrupting the ghost of the house of Gryffindor and catching Harry's attention. Both turned to face Ron, staring at him like a mad man. Ron gave ghem both a look and then glanced in the direction of Ms. Norris.
"Hate to run Nick. But I don't think Filch will be too happy seeing us all muddy," Ron said quickly as he began to run in the opposite direction of Ms. Norris. Harry didn't hesitate to follow as Nick did as well. Floating seemed far more convenient as he didn't have to worry about slipping on their own wet and slippery shoes.
"Just as well, Filch is in truly a foul mood," Nick continued talking, "The man has the flu and is too stubborn to see Madam Pomfrey, that and a third year got frog brains plastered to the fifth dungeon's ceiling. I wouldn't be surprised if Peeves was involved-"
Ron and Harry took an abrupt turn, narrowly missing the wall Sir Nick had flown through ans clammored up one of the moving staircases as no doubt Ms. Norris followed, trying to be easy for Filch to find but not losing the dirty boys. The stairs began to move as they neared the top. In an effort to not get in trouble, the two sped up and jumped to the openning where the stairs led to before the castle's enchantments brought back the ever sturdy and magically crafted railing reappeared to prevent any accidental falls to painful deaths. Ron and Harry gasped, taking in as much air as they could now that Filch would have a harder time following them. They began walking as quietly as they could, Ron a bit more effective than Harry as Filch appeared at the base of the moving stairs with Ms. Norris by his side. His skin a ghastly, sickly chalky hue with his nose an odd purplish color. A nasty cough had his body shaking as Harry and Ron slipped away towards the Fat Lady's portrait.
"Well that was lucky."
"We'd have been luckier if we hadn't run into Nick. He's the whole reason we ran into Ms. Norris," Ron commented.
"But we didn't get caught."
"Harry, other than learning that ghosts celebrate that they died, and that they apparently have a mail system. What else did we learn? Nothing! This was pretty much pointless!"
I notice this is often just not in fanfictions. Found it odd as the circumstances shouldn't really change leading to running into Sir Nicholas. Oh well. I have Mysticarts yelling at me for not updating earlier. My bad. Anyway, this chapter is what it is. A part of the original story that just didn't feel right leaving out.