chapter 183 part 1
"Yes, yes, that's right."
In his office, William nodded, an expression of earnest listening on his face.
"You think so too, don't you, Professor?"
The ghost across from William saw him nodding emphatically and was quite satisfied with his reaction.
"They went too far, didn't they?"
"Of course, without a doubt, madam—" William gave the most appropriate response, which made the expression of the ghost 'sitting' across from him much brighter, though it was already silvery-white.
"Thank you, Professor." That ghostly lady had a delighted expression, but it soon turned to sorrow. "I'm sorry, Professor, I don't think I can let it go yet..."
"Walk around more, see more things," William swallowed the phrase 'time heals all wounds' that was on the tip of his tongue, seamlessly switching to other words of comfort. "It's not good for you to always stay in that one place. You should try being a ghost somewhere else. Maybe making more ghost friends would help."
"Perhaps—" the ghost lady's voice grew deeper. "In any case, thank you, Professor. I will seriously consider your advice."
She stood up, looking crestfallen. After a hurried curtsy, she passed through the wall and left.
'Sigh, what a headache...'
William sighed, setting down his quill and notebook. He sank into his chair, slumping into it, completely motionless.
It was already December. More than a month had passed since the incident on Halloween, but its effects had yet to dissipate...
After a good while, William, having recovered some of his energy, finally raised a hand and massaged his temples to calm his mind.
This was the hundredth ghost he had counseled in the past month. Things had only slowed down in the last few days; in the beginning, he had no time for anything else between his classes.
'Another tragedy,' he thought, looking at the notes in his hand and shaking his head.
It was perfectly normal. Without tragedy, there would be no ghosts. Although some ghost origin stories were comical, the core of those comedies was also tragedy—in the end, ghosts were almost all beings of regret.
Although the official reason for the existence of ghosts is that deceased wizards lacked the courage to face death, William had discovered something after talking with them during this period.
With a few exceptions, the phrase 'lacking the courage to move on' was completely equivalent to 'having things they couldn't let go of'. As the saying goes, 'one who is without desire is strong'. When there was nothing left to hold a ghost back, they would naturally find the courage to move on.
'Of course, one can't rule out the oddballs...'
William flipped through his notes and saw an entry with particularly sloppy handwriting, reaffirming his thought.
'36th Ghost guest.
Name: Bodhi the Undying.
Cause of Death: Died from consuming a potion.
(Followed by a series of useless records)
'
William sighed, ignoring the pile of unreliable information and skipping to the final, messy part.
"The potion he brewed was what he believed to be the Elixir of Life that could grant him longevity! He was so afraid of death that he tried all sorts of ways to achieve immortality, but in the end, the potion he concocted through self-study poisoned him to death!
Then, filled with indignation and feeling he shouldn't have died, he just carried on living as a ghost!
Does the wizarding world have every kind of oddball ghost imaginable?
And he told me he's still researching methods for undeath?
He even thinks being a ghost is great, since it's a form of immortality at least?
What kind of bizarre existence is this?
A waste of my time!!!"
William looked at the huge exclamation points at the end of his notes, which had nearly torn through the paper, and couldn't help but laugh. 'Speaking of which, it would be nice if all ghosts were like him, thinking it's not so bad to be a ghost.'
He closed the notebook, put it away, and secured it with a magical lock. These records were kept to better help the ghosts find the confidence to move on. Even though the subjects were already dead, their secrets still needed to be kept.
"William!" Adams's voice came from outside the door. "Is your visitor gone?"
"Gone. I should have changed my status. Come in, Adams."
William stood up, opened the door, and called out to Adams, who was standing in the doorway.
"Good," Adams said, walking in with a small basket. He held it up before even sitting down. "New stuff! A member of my club just developed it. Have a taste!"
"I look forward to it." William didn't stand on ceremony, picking up something that resembled an egg tart. After noting its cute shape, he popped it into his mouth. "What brings you here today?"
"It's a holiday today!" Adams stared at William. "Don't tell me you've been so busy you've lost track of the days?"
"A holiday?" William checked. "It seems so—but I don't have classes after Friday anyway, so I didn't notice. I recently got an ancient memory sphere; it reminds me the night before if I have a class."
"Ancient?"
"Yes, that one on the table," William pointed to the small crystal ball floating in the air. A ghost had given it to him, saying it could serve as a reminder for important events on his itinerary. After experimenting with it a few times, he found it worked quite well as a planner and started using it.
"This—the raw materials for this are exhausted! This is a memory sphere made from the best Divination crystal. The special crystals from that region were used up before the wizarding war a hundred years ago!"
'Good heavens, that ghost died four or five hundred years ago.' William thought back and realized it made sense. Crystal is a consumable material; a mine that ran dry a hundred years ago wouldn't have been considered particularly precious four or five hundred years ago. It's like how poor families used to live on mitten crabs, but now they're a luxury you can barely afford.
"What's that?" Adams had sharp eyes and looked towards the spot where the ghostly lady had been sitting. A dull-colored brooch lay there, almost unnoticeable if you weren't looking closely.
"Probably her payment," William shook his head, having no interest in examining it closely. The ghosts always left behind small trinkets after coming to talk with him. Some were given openly, others left secretly. In any case, none had ever come back to retrieve a lost item.
"Can ghosts carry things?"
"Of course, if they're willing. It's just very tiring for them—" William picked up another egg tart, this one with a texture like a marshmallow. During the feasts, he had never been sure who prepared the cutlery and candles, but after talking with ghosts for so long, he had long since figured out that they could move small objects.
"Speaking of which, you're really too soft-hearted. Filch already filed a report asking whether to expel the ghosts disrupting classes, yet you actually took on the matter yourself."
Adams held the brooch, examining it for a long time without figuring anything out, before placing it back on William's table.
"Don't mention it. Right now, I want to duel my past self. Just persuading Filch to accept that ghosts could come over took half a day of my time, to say nothing of spending time talking with them."
William laughed, making fun of himself.
"Tch," Adams made a contemptuous gesture. "How many ghosts have decided to move on during this time?"
"Five," William said, not without a hint of pride.
"That many?"
"Yeah, I didn't expect it either. I didn't think a bit of counseling would be so effective. Maybe they just came to terms with it themselves." William straightened up. "There was no choice. If I didn't talk to them, those fellows would poke their heads out of the wall to glance at me, and then glance again. If you shouted at them, they'd immediately flee, but they'd be back the next day. What could I do?"