“Time? Yes, time always fades many things…”

Nick shrugged, feigning ease as his eyes met the girl’s pure and flawless lake-blue eyes.

Unfortunately, what Elina said was like a spark on a powder keg, instantly igniting the frustration and anger he had struggled to suppress in his heart—time can heal everything, but he no longer had the possibility of change!

“Tell me then!” Nick suddenly exploded, pulling the letter out of his pocket again, “Having my neck chopped forty-four times with a blunt axe, don’t I qualify to join the Headless Hunt?!”

“Well—strictly speaking, no.”

Elina pondered for half a second, and in Nick’s expectant gaze, she said decisively.

“The Headless Hunt, as the name suggests, should be a team of ghost hunters who can all separate their heads from their bodies. The most important thing for this kind of team is coordination and unity… Sorry, Nick, perhaps that’s just life.”

“You! But, but—”

Nearly Headless Nick, who was almost headless, dropped the letter he hadn’t had time to unfold, waving his hands with some emotional loss of control.

“Good heavens! Only a tiny bit of skin and sinew are holding my head on, Elina! Most people would think that’s practically the same as being beheaded. I mean, I wish more than anything that things had been done cleanly and thoroughly, that my head had been completely and utterly severed, I mean, that would have saved me a lot of pain, and prevented me from being ridiculed, but…”

“You’re lying, you didn’t.”

Elina said calmly, squatting down and curiously touching the letter.

Icy and cold, as if passing through a layer of cold water—then, her fingers passed through the letter and touched the ground.

Sure enough, living people cannot touch real ghost letters under normal circumstances.

Like Professor Binns’s teaching plans, the Grey Lady’s poetry collections, and the Fat Friar’s prayer books, among the ghosts in the magical world, there is a very special way of recording and interpreting information.

“Lying?! Ha! Are you, like Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore who lost his head entirely, planning to make fun of me?”

Nearly Headless Nick said indignantly, bending down, about to pick up the fallen envelope.

“Not at all. I’m just stating a fact: you never wanted your head to be completely and utterly severed—at least not when you were still known as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.”

Elina looked at Nick, who was at the same level as her, and said calmly.

“If I remember correctly, until the last second before death arrived, you were fighting against this outcome… even though your voice was poisoned by the monk’s potion, and your wand was taken away by the king—even death couldn’t separate your body completely—so, I don’t think you need to envy those gentlemen who were completely beheaded.”

“… What did you say?” Nearly Headless Nick’s body stiffened, his slender hand as if it was stuck to the ground.

“I’m saying, you are braver than most people—that’s something to be proud of.”

Elina said softly, walking to the window and looking at the pouring rain outside, deliberately not looking at Nick’s expression.

“Halloween is coming up in a few days, time will fade the scars, and words will keep the stories alive… Maybe not many people have the patience to pick up seashells in the river of history, but it cannot, and should not, disappear.”

As the resident ghost of Gryffindor, Nearly Headless Nick’s experiences in life were not simple.

Elina turned her back to Nick, took out *Hogwarts Ghosts* from the "interdimensional pocket" on her chest, and glanced at it.

“After the final exam last year, I borrowed a book from the Hogwarts library that recorded some stories about the ghosts in the castle, including the details of your death back then. The book said—”

“‘On the evening of October 30, 1492, Sir Nicholas met Lady Grieve while strolling in the Royal Park. She was convinced that he could help her correct her crooked teeth, but Nicholas’s attempts backfired, causing her to grow tusks.’”

“‘Because of this mistake, Sir Nicholas was immediately imprisoned by the guards and sentenced to death. Before he was locked into the dungeon, his wand was also taken away, preventing him from using magic to escape from there. He was shouting all night, claiming that he could immediately undo the damage caused to Lady Grieve.’”

Elina paused slightly, quickly glanced at the cheat sheet on her chest, and continued.

“‘That night, a priest came to Sir Nicholas’s cell to comfort him, and escorted him to the execution ground at dawn the next day. When the executioner made him kneel before the stone, he could no longer speak clearly. However, the executioner’s axe was blunt, because the stone used to sharpen the axe was nowhere to be found. Therefore, Nicholas was chopped a total of forty-five times, but even so, a tiny bit of skin and sinew still held his head on.’”

“Oh, I didn’t expect anyone to carefully read those old, tedious magical histories…”

Nearly Headless Nick was stunned for several seconds, then coughed slightly.

He picked up the envelope and stuffed it back into his clothes, straightened up and adjusted the feathered hat on his head, sighed softly, and said in a restrained, elegant tone, like a classic aristocrat, self-deprecatingly.

“Those were all things from a long time ago, there’s nothing to be proud of. I was too arrogant, thinking that my clumsy magic could help Lady Grieve, but when you are busy and exhausted, you inevitably make mistakes—King Henry sentenced me to death for this, well, it’s my own fault… I’m not a wizard worthy of your learning.”

“However, thank you, young Miss Kaslana.”

Nearly Headless Nick took a few deep breaths, and then said in a much calmer tone:

“So—what are you worried about? Is there anything I can help with?”

“No,” Elina sighed, this time she was really a little depressed, “unless you know how to make me grow taller quickly, or how to rewind time for more than an hour in a small area, otherwise—”

Unsurprisingly, what happened in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class just now will soon spread throughout the school.

The story of how half the class’s Boggarts were Elina, and the various forms of Elina’s “cute switching,” will surely spread like wildfire among the various houses, and the Gryffindor staircase will probably become famous because of this.

Hermione’s “staircase disappearance” spell has some exaggeration, but those who like gossip won’t delve into so many details.

Elina can almost imagine how everyone will vividly describe the scene of a strand of hair angrily swaying left and right in the staircase pit—especially those rumor-spreaders in Ravenclaw, this is simply a carnival for that group of women.

“Hmm? Rewind time?”

Nick frowned, looking at Elina with a serious expression, asking with concern.

“Could it be that something bad happened in your class just now?”

“We just had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the content of the course was how to deal with Boggarts. Due to some unexpected circumstances, the Boggart turned into my appearance… then, you know—*Riddikulus*.”

Elina raised her finger, made a gesture of shooting a spell, and said gloomily.

“The whole class was laughing at me, mocking me for being short, and it hasn’t stopped since the first spell hit. It’s like you being obsessed with the problem of your neck, I mean, I wish more than anything that I could grow taller quickly, so that I could look like an adult, and not be ridiculed for my height.”

“Hmm… height… Wait, I might have an idea… but…”

Nearly Headless Nick pondered for a few seconds thoughtfully, frowning in distress.

“…No, that’s against the rules…”

“Huh?”

Elina stared at him, extremely surprised.

Since Nicolas Flamel explicitly stated that he was powerless, Elina had almost extinguished the idea of growing taller quickly.

Perhaps there really is magic in this world that can make people grow taller, but for Flamel, Dumbledore, Grindelwald… those tall wizards, they obviously have no reason to spend time studying magic in this area.

As for Professor Flitwick, this Charms Master also doesn’t care about his height.

Especially after Professor Flitwick won several Wizarding Duelling Championships in a row with this advantage.

“Sorry… Forget it… It’s too dangerous for students… and… But, if you’re still struggling with this problem in a few years… maybe I, I can teach you an obscure spell… um…”

Nearly Headless Nick twisted his hands together in confusion, said apologetically.

“Elina, this is a derivative magic based on Human Transfiguration, it’s my personal little achievement… um, if I still had magic power now, I could help you a little bit—this is very profound transfiguration, at least wait until you have successfully completed your O.W.Ls before you can cautiously try it…”

Nearly Headless Nick shook his head, turned around, and slowly slid towards the back of the corridor.

Elina couldn’t believe her luck.

That’s right, Human Transfiguration—this is the secret to growing taller that she has been trying to find.

This is not a half-baked pig tail spell like Hagrid’s, or the magical transformation displayed by Professor McGonagall and the "Professor Moody" in the original book. This actually belongs to the category of permanent transformation magic.

Undoubtedly, judging from Nearly Headless Nick’s personal resume, he is at least half a magical plastic surgery expert.

As the chief royal wizard back then, he wouldn’t have been knighted if he had been so unreliable all the time.

“Nick, wait a minute… um, I, I hope I can do something for you—”

Elina said excitedly, looking at Nick with great anticipation.

According to the plot of the original book, this year’s Halloween happens to be the 500th anniversary of this ghost’s death, which is about next week if you calculate the time—originally Elina didn’t plan to attend that ghost gathering, but now it’s different.

If there were a mission system, then there must be a big golden exclamation mark shining on Nick’s head at this time.

And the mission reward is the "growth magic" that Elina has been searching for.

Nearly Headless Nick stopped immediately.

Where Elina couldn’t see, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing a meaningful smile.

“Um, you can indeed do something for me—”

Nick said excitedly, he turned around, and muttered to himself nervously.

“Wait, Elina—is my request too much—no, you definitely won’t be willing—”

“What is it?” Elina asked obediently.

“Well, you also know that this year’s Halloween will be my five hundredth death anniversary.”

Nearly Headless Nick said, puffing out his chest, showing a noble and proud appearance.

“Oh, yes!

This chapter is not over, please click on the next page to continue reading!

” Elina nodded, she was trying her best to perform her acting skills, "So what can I do for you?"

"It's like this, I plan to hold a party in a relatively spacious underground classroom. By then, friends will come from all over the country. I would be honored if you could also participate. Of course, you can also invite your friends to join, I welcome them as well—but, I dare say you would rather attend the school banquet, right?"

Nick looked at Elina anxiously.

“How could that be, that’s great!”

Elina said quickly, controlling her expression and voice a little, lest it be too fake.

“I will definitely come, and I can also let the Hogwarts kitchen fully cooperate.”

“Oh, my dear child! Elina Kaslana, attending my death anniversary party, that’s great! By the way…”

Nick hesitated, appearing a little excited, “Also, if possible, could you try to mention it in magazines such as *The Quibbler* and *A Bite of Hogwarts*? I heard that you seem to have some influence—just a brief mention will do, just say that the scary, impressive Sir Nicholas held a grand death anniversary celebration.”

“Hmm? Of course, of course I can—”

Elina narrowed her eyes and answered sweetly.

Nearly Headless Nick smiled at her.

Immediately afterwards, the Hogwarts class bell rang at the right time.

Hundreds of students pushed open the classroom doors and poured into the corridor, talking and laughing.

The crowded crowd separated her and Nearly Headless Nick. Elina followed the constantly moving crowd, walking towards the school hall, while pulling out the sleeping reserve food, as well as paper and pen, from her chest.

Everything that happened just now was too coincidental.

Some things, she planned to verify… such as Sir Nicholas’s past experiences.

Compared to simply pinning her hopes on the kindness and honesty of others, Elina is more accustomed to controlling the overall situation and using the other party’s active initiative to set up traps in reverse—this is the way of the White Lord taught to her by Albus Dumbledore.

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Yay!