Make Me.

Book 2 - Chapter 8

As October arrived, a damp chill spread over the school grounds and throughout the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the matron, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. She was prescribing Perpperup Potions left and right, leaving the drinkers smoking at at the ears for several hours afterward. One morning, Percy Weasley had bullied his younger sister, Ginny, into taking the potion, as she had been looking quite pale, and the steam pouring out from under her vivid red hair gave the impression her head was on fire. Even Ellie had taken the potion, as advised by her father, after her terrible icy nightmare left her felling quite chilled even a few days after it had passed. 

The October rain seemed unrelenting as raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle's windows for days on end: the lake rose, the flowerbeds turned to muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. However, the rain didn't seem to stop the castle's enthusiasm for Quidditch, and practices continued through the rain, leaving Ellie and her friends, who rather not to be soaked outside, to enjoy what the indoors had to offer during their spare time on the weekends. Ellie, particularly energized by the turn of the weather, was utilizing her time to do things she probably shouldn't be. 

On a particular Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, Ellie was found roaming Gryffindor Tower with her pockets full of homemade 'Slippery Mud Bombs,' that had been developed by her and the Weasley twins. 

She was actually on her way out of the tower after picking them up from Lee Jordan, seeing as Fred and George were always busy with Quidditch practice and the mud bombs still needed to be tweaked a bit before they were ready for use, and Ellie had the time today. It was Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, who spotted her first. He was floating, looking morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath.   

". . . don't fulfill their requirements . . . half an inch, if that . . ." 

Ellie tried walking past the ghost, hoping he would just stay put, but quickly found out that Nick was rather inclined for a chat and Ellie was pretty sure he was waiting for someone to walk by him so he could talk with them. As Ellie passed him, he swiveled on the spot, looking at her. 

"Hello, Nick," Ellie said with a sigh, stopping in the middle of the corridor. 

"Hello, hello," said Nearly Headless Nick. He had now turned back around to stare quite dramatically out the window again. He wore a dashing plumed hat on top of his long curly hair, and a tunic with a ruff, which concealed the fact that his neck was almost completely severed. He was pale as smoke, and Ellie could see right through him out the window to the dark sky and torrential rain outside. 

"You look like you're up to trouble, young Dracula," said Nick, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking inside his doublet. 

"And you look troubled," said Ellie, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, concealing the mud bombs. 

"Ah." Nearly Headless Nick waved and elegant hand. "A matter of no importance . . . It's not as though I really wanted to join . . . Thought I'd apply, but apparently I don't fulfill the requirements." In spite of his airy tone, Ellie could hear some bitterness biting though. 

"But you would think, wouldn't you," he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket and turning to face Ellie, "that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?" 

"Oh - yes," said Ellie nodding, knowing that she was obviously supposed to agree with the disgruntled ghost. 

"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However - " Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously.