As the last chapter told, the Bloody Baron floated to the Gryffindor table to speak with Harry.
He had not expected that, before he could speak, the Scarred-Face Chieftain would curse him head-to-toe, stunning every human and ghost in the Great Hall.
"Galloping Gargoyles! Is he cursing the Bloody Baron?!"
"Has Harry gone insane?"
"I've been here five years... I've never seen a student dare to provoke the Bloody Baron..."
The Lions, Eagles, and Badgers whispered amongst themselves, like birds startled by a bow. Only the Slytherins were overjoyed. Draco slammed the table and cheered.
"That damned Scarhead is finished! In a thousand years, no one has dared to insult Mr. Baron like that!"
"Exactly! Don't forget, his nickname is the Bloody Baron. No other ghost has such a terrifying name!"
It was one stone, stirring a thousand waves. The students stole glances; the ghosts all materialized, craning their necks.
Nearly Headless Nick nearly lost his head in shock. Peeves shivered, hiding in the rafters. The Fat Friar wanted to intervene but hesitated. Helena, too, hovered in the air, watching coldly.
A thousand strange gazes, like a swarm of locusts, all landed on the Bloody Baron, making his spirit burn with anger.
He had wandered Hogwarts for nine hundred years. Professors and students had come and gone in dozens of generations. Not one had ever dared to raise their voice to him.
Today, to be roared at by this yellow-mouthed whelp, Harry... how could he tolerate it?
Civility was gone; it was time for blades. The Bloody Baron's spiritual hair stood on end. A cold, spectral wind blasted toward Harry.
"Mr. Potter," he said, his voice deadly. "Is this your intention?"
"To make an enemy... of me? Of Slytherin?"
His voice rose, the chains on his body rattling, terrifying the first-years near Harry, who trembled like chaff in the wind.
Even Colin, who worshiped Harry, his teeth chattered, his legs shaking.
Harry already knew the Bloody Baron was a sneaky, petty man. Seeing him now, pretending to be a hero, spouting arrogant words to scare people... how could Harry hold back the "bird-fire" in his heart?
His tiger-eyes went wide. He leaped to his feet and roared:
"This one will make an enemy of you, you filthy, lecherous ghost! What are you going to do about it!"
"You, a hypocrite! A fraud who deceives the world! You thieving bones! You dare to show this one such an arrogant face!"
Harry's roar ripped through the hall, shaking all four houses. The Slytherin students' eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
What did he call Mr. Baron?
A lecherous ghost?!
This is slander!
An insult to the Baron was an insult to Slytherin. The Slytherins leaped to their feet, shouting back.
"Shut up! Don't slander Mr. Baron!"
"That's right! I've been here five years, I've never seen Mr. Baron speak to a female ghost!"
"Mr. Baron died for love! You are insulting his love!"
The Slytherins beat their drums and waved their flags, but the Bloody Baron... his eyes were wide, his momentum suddenly gone.
He stared at Harry, shocked and uncertain. "What... what do you mean by that?"
Harry, seeing the scoundrel's weakness, was even more certain of Helena's story. He sneered. "If you don't want people to know, don't do it! You, this scoundrel, created your own sin. Why are you asking me?"
This was like a riddle. Others were confused, but the Bloody Baron looked as if he'd been struck by lightning.
How... how does he know?
Did Helena tell him?
He glanced at Helena, his lips trembling, but his throat felt like it was stuffed with hemp, unable to utter a word.
(Readers, though these two had been at Hogwarts for nine hundred years, they were strangers. Helena had hate in her heart and never glanced his way. The Baron knew he was in the wrong and didn't have the "face-skin" to approach her. They were inches apart, yet worlds away.)
He staggered back, his form flickering. "No... that was an accident... I just... I lost control..."
"I've been atoning for centuries... I didn't mean it..."
Hearing him equivocate, Harry's rage burned hotter. He kicked over his chair. "Hah! You, a lust-addled, cheap-boned wretch! You harm a life just because you were refused! You dare speak of love!"
"You hang a few chains and call it 'self-punishment'? Why don't I see you rolling on a nail-bed? Or the burning pillar? Or the wooden donkey? Or the Five Punishments! It's obvious! You're just putting on a show after death! Trying to fool King Yama in the underworld! Trying to trick Lucifer in hell!"
"Those who dare use the words 'die for love' are good men and women whose love is stronger than gold! They are heroes who give their lives for righteousness! You... a coward who killed himself to escape his crime... you dare say it? You are filth on a golden plaque! A maggot on a Buddha-shrine!"
"If my Brother Zhishen saw a scoundrel like you, he would kowtow every step of the way back to Mount Wutai, just to beg Abbot Zhizhen to come and obliterate your lecherous soul, so you may never be reborn!"
The Scarred-Face Chieftain's tirade, every word was a flying knife, every sentence a sharp arrow. Never mind the living, even the old ghosts like the Fat Friar felt their souls tremble.
The Bloody Baron heard it clearly. He felt the pain in his soul, the burning in his spirit. Yet, in his heart, he could not muster a trace of anger.
Why? Because every word of this curse had struck the festering, thousand-year-old wound in his soul. It was like ten thousand steel knives lancing the sore, letting all the black, filthy blood flow out, leaving... a strange sense of relief.
He's right...
He's right...
I don't deserve to linger as a ghost...
At that moment, Helena, in the air, couldn't help but call out, "Well said!"
"Harry, you really should have been in Ravenclaw."
The Bloody Baron heard Helena's voice. It was like thunder exploding by his ear. His soul shook. His long-dead heart... it jumped.
Helena... she spoke... Is she willing to forgive me?!
He whipped his head around, but the air was empty. Helena was gone.
Why did she leave?
...Is it because Harry stopped cursing me?
The Bloody Baron, hearing her voice for the first time in nine hundred years, was completely obsessed. He ignored the stares of the students and fixed his eyes on Harry, pleading:
"Mr. Potter... Harry... I beg you... please, curse me a few more times."
"Just... just a few more..."
At these words, the Great Hall became a vacuum. All the air was sucked into the lungs of the students.
The Slytherins were dumbfounded. The image of the Bloody Baron... shattered.
Colin and the other first-years, however, their eyes were shining. They wanted to bow.
The famous, terrifying Bloody Baron! Begging Harry to curse him!
Harry, too, stared, wide-eyed. Damnable wretch! Why does this school have so many strange people?!
One who tempers his body like a demon, one who eats 'tea-婆-bugs,' one who lusted after my father... and now, one who likes being insulted!
He was about to wind up for another vicious tirade, but Hermione's eyes darted. She suddenly spoke.
(A note from the narrator: The angry insults ring out; the Bloody Baron is stunned. Old sins are exposed; he trembles in fear. Sharp words like silver needles pierce the sore, letting the black blood spray. He begs for more curses, for atonement. Harry is silent, but Hermione speaks. What will she say? You must listen to the next chapter's decomposition.)
(P.S. I'm working on the outline. Just one chapter today, I'll explode with more tomorrow. I'm afraid if I rush, the quality will drop. If I don't deliver, I'll wear a dress for you all, okay?)
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