Harry and the other two braced themselves and walked into the dungeon classroom. Since they were already there, turning back at the door wasn't an option.
Nearly Headless Nick welcomed them enthusiastically. Although it was a bit late, he was thrilled that some living people were willing to attend his party.
However, Harry and Ron didn't stay long. Perhaps the rotten food in the dungeon brought back some unpleasant memories. They merely wandered around once, pursed their lips, and rushed out.
Hermione, worried about them, left as well—leaving only Robert, a living person, still there.
Robert glanced at the pitch-black, charred cake in front of him, large chunks of rotten, maggot-infested meat, and moldy, spoiled pudding cheese...
The smell was indeed unpleasant, though fortunately, it was just tolerable for him.
Originally, Robert wanted to find Nick first, but he was far too popular today. Ghosts were lining up to invite him to dance.
With no other choice, Robert wandered elsewhere for a while.
He took a quick look around and saw that hundreds of milky-white ghosts had squeezed into the small dungeon classroom.
Of course, ghosts wouldn't feel crowded—but it was a different story for Robert. A single careless movement could send him stumbling through one or several translucent bodies.
He stuck to the edge of the dance floor, slowly circling the cramped room before exiting through the doorway into the corridor.
Robert had hoped to walk around and warm up a bit, but just then, he noticed a lone ghost floating in a corner.
This was a ghost Robert had never seen before—dressed in medieval garb with an old cloak stained with what appeared to be silver blood.
The ghost was facing the wall, swaying mid-air as if drunk. What he was doing was unclear.
Can ghosts even get drunk?
Robert didn't know—but he sensed this might be a rare opportunity.
He couldn't afford to wait around forever for Nick, and this seemed like a good chance to get information.
Within half a second, the wand named Silver Mane appeared in Robert's hand.
With a quiet whisper, a bright blue light flashed through the dark corridor.
"What's going on, what happened?" the ghost by the wall suddenly jolted. His upper body shot up—but everything below the waist stayed in place.
Robert could even see his intestines floating loosely in mid-air.
"A living person…" the ghost noticed him at last. "Did you get lost? Your feast should be upstairs!"
"Sir Nicholas invited me," Robert replied, glancing subconsciously at the cloak behind the ghost.
Intact—no change. Apparently, a unicorn wand couldn't directly affect a ghost. That was disappointing.
"Disappointed, are you?" the ghost asked, his voice faint.
Robert instinctively nodded. "A little, yes."
Only a moment later did he realize that the ghost had misunderstood his disappointment.
"It's normal to feel let down," the ghost said. "The way we celebrate is completely different from the living. We can't eat, so we let the food rot, hoping that somehow the 'flavor' becomes stronger. We grow numb—so we use louder, more piercing sounds to stir whatever's left of our minds… assuming we still have minds at all."
He grew melancholic, radiating a faint, blue aura. He seemed like the embodiment of all negative emotions.
Robert stayed silent.
The ghost sighed, stuffed his fallen intestines back into place, and drifted to the corner, floating motionlessly.
Robert thought this ghost might get along well with Moaning Myrtle.
Glancing at the cloak one more time, Robert returned to the dungeon classroom.
Though the cloak remained unscathed, the ghost's startled reaction earlier suggested he wasn't completely unaffected. There was still some impact.
Back inside, Nick was still dancing. Robert spotted another ghost he vaguely recognized—Hufflepuff's Fat Friar, known for his good nature.
As Robert approached, the Friar was chatting with Patrick of the Headless Hunt. But Robert, a living person among hundreds of ghosts, stood out like a searchlight. The Friar had noticed him early on and greeted him warmly.
"Ah, I know you! You're the Ollivander boy, right?"
"Hello, Fat Friar," Robert said with a respectful nod.
"I thought you left with Mr. Potter," the Friar remarked cheerfully.
"Actually, I wanted to ask some questions about ghosts," Robert explained. "But Sir Nicholas has been dancing nonstop…"
"Oh?" The Friar's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Tell me, if you don't mind. Perhaps I can help."
"It's for our Defence Against the Dark Arts class," Robert began. "I really enjoyed Professor Lockhart's Break with a Banshee, and I wondered if ghosts similar to the Wailing Banshee exist in England."
The Friar's smile faltered. He looked a little embarrassed—because he didn't know the answer.
He'd been a ghost for over six centuries. When he died, he'd been in a daze and instinctively returned to Hogwarts. He'd never left since.
So how could he know what kinds of ghosts roamed beyond the castle?
But that didn't matter. While he himself hadn't left Hogwarts, the current gathering included no shortage of ghosts from elsewhere.
At the Friar's request, a crowd of milky-white ghosts quickly surrounded Robert. Cold radiated from them like a blast from a walk-in freezer.
The chill wasn't magical—it was intrinsic to ghosts. Even holding Silver Mane couldn't help. Within seconds, frost coated the ends of Robert's hair.
Still, he finally got what he was after.
"I've never been to Wales," said a ragged ghost wrapped in chains, "but if you're looking for ghosts that enjoy torturing and killing Muggles, it must be the Bloody Baron."
Robert's eyes brightened. That didn't sound like a friendly ghost.
"Isn't the Bloody Baron a ghost? Can he still harm Muggles?" Robert asked.
"Most ghosts can't—but there are exceptions," the chained ghost said. "He killed sixteen Muggles and one wizard. The Ministry's Aurors were helpless. They were useless back then too."
Clearly, this ghost held a grudge against the Ministry.
"What happened to him?" Robert pressed.
"No one knows. One day, the Bloody Baron just vanished."
"I know, I know!" another ghost floated over excitedly. "About seventy years ago, a foreign wizard trapped the Bloody Baron in an abandoned village. Then Ministry officials cast Muggle-Repelling Charms around it.
"That wizard later ran for President of the International Confederation of Wizards. Big shot."
"How do you know all this?" the chained ghost asked in disbelief—then twisted his head off by accident.
"Hmph..." came a snort from the side. It was Nearly Headless Nick, clearly listening.
"Don't mind me, carry on," his head called from the floor.
"I know because I was the wizard the Bloody Baron killed," the other ghost said proudly. "I watched him get trapped."
…
That was... authoritative.
Silence fell. Only the chained ghost bent down, picked up his head, and stuck it back on.
"Where is the Bloody Baron now?" Robert asked. Ghosts crowded in so tightly that mist condensed around him.
The ghost didn't answer right away. Instead, he stared at Robert and said seriously, "If you're just looking for excitement, find something else. That ghost can even kill wizards."
"Thanks, I don't doubt it," Robert replied, eyeing him thoughtfully.
This ghost looked no older than twenty—young, clean, and without any visible wounds. Unlike other ghosts, he had no bloodstains or arrows sticking out of him.
Just… a little dim.
"I'm asking on behalf of our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor," Robert said, rubbing his shoulders to stay warm. "Gilderoy Lockhart. He's a remarkable wizard. Maybe he can destroy the Bloody Baron… and help you get revenge."
The ghost didn't seem to take it seriously. Ghosts, after all, were remnants of souls. They couldn't die again.
Still, he gave Robert the location.
"South of Wiltshire. Tell Professor Lockhark to find a mountain shaped like a fork, go over it, then cross a river..."
"Lockhart," Robert corrected silently. Hopefully, the ghost just had a poor memory for names.
He carefully wrote down the long, winding directions, planning to investigate during the holidays.
He even got two more names and their locations from other ghosts—one in Kent and another in Cornwall.
Although neither had a history quite as grisly as the Bloody Baron's, both had been Dark wizards in life and continued terrorizing Muggles in death—perfect for what Robert needed.
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