A/N:

Written for the 24 hour drabble competition: October 31st , over on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

Event: 1492: Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington is executed after accidentally growing a tusk on Lady Greive

Gringotts Prompt Bank: Feelings/Emotions: Afraid – Fearful; Sex and the City: Season 1 Episode 3 – (Word) Humiliated

The botched beheading

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington sat in the corner of his cell surrounded by filth of all the prior occupants.

The sun had risen only a few hours ago, which meant that there was only minutes left until the guards would come for him and lead him up to the block for his execution.

The clock struck several times signalling that it was quarter to twelve; only fifteen minutes left until he was due to die. He was about to lose his life for a foolish, amateur mistake; a mispronunciation of words had grown a tusk on Lady Greive's face, instead of fixing her slightly crooked teeth.

Sir Nicholas didn't want to die though; he was terrified by the very prospect of death, so much so that years ago he had decided that he would come back as a ghost.

Heavy footsteps thudded towards Sir Nick's cell, and the skinny, frail man who had aged almost twenty years over the course of his imprisonment shrunk even closer to the wall in fear.

Two guards arrived at the gate of his cell, blocking out what little sunlight had been creeping into the disease ridden, filthy prison, and unlocked the gate.

One of the guards came trundling in, and released him from the heavy iron restraints that Sir Nick had been chained up with for the last few months. It was an immense relief to be free, and the prisoner flexed his hands trying to get used to the sensation of having freedom of movement. He wanted to remember what it was like, before his spirit departed from his body forever.

The guard grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him off towards the exit from his cell, where his hands were promptly re-restrained.

As the two men led Sir Nicholas up the set of wooden stairs, he could hear the boos and jeers of his former comrades. The men with whom just a few short months ago he had been sharing a pint in the local tavern. It felt like an eternity had passed since those days. He hung his head down as he climbed the steps, each one taking him a little closer towards his death.

After what felt like forever and a day, the trio reached the top of the steps, and Sir Nicholas was shoved forcefully to the ground in front of the block, and he fell meekly to his knees. He reluctantly placed his head on the carved wooden block.

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington," A loud clear voice rang out. "You have been found guilty of the most heinous acts against Lady Greive, and for that you have been sentenced to death."

All throughout these words, Sir Nicholas muttered the Our Father under his breath.

Even though his head was bowed and his eyes were focused solely on a chipped piece of the wooden slat, Sir Nicholas sensed the axe being raised. Please let this be quick and clean he prayed, as the axe swung downwards and made contact with the nape of his neck.

He felt a sharp stinging pain and a trickle of blood leak down his back, as the axe continued to hit the same mark over and over and over again. He bit back the cries of pain that he longed to let out, as the crowd mocked him and laughed at his botched beheading.

Forty five whacks from the axe later, and Nick was a lifeless body on the chopping block; his head hung to his neck by the smallest piece of flesh.

"That is enough," the man who had announced Nick's beheading whispered to his executioner. "He is dead; there is no need to drag this out any longer."

The executioner, who was sweating profusely, stepped away from Nick's lifeless body and dragged his axe at his side, whilst the ghost of Sir Nicholas watched on with shame. His hopes of joining The Headless Hunt, the only ray of hope on the horizon for him had been dashed. Just a few more whacks of the axe would have done it. He would have been completely headless, and the perfect candidate.

Sir Nicholas floated away from the scene and wondered what he would do now with his afterlife as a ghost.

A/N:

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