London Tower, 1492

The room was freezing and restrictive. The only light that ever entered came through a barred window. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy- Porpington gazed at the stone wall, recalling his crime and how he had ended up in the dingy cell. It had all started three nights before.

They had been at a party thrown by Duke Bard, the king’s brother. They had all danced, reveled and gotten drunk on ale. Stumbling out into the hallway, after the party had dissipated, they had gotten into a fight. They had started off by arguing about a woman, a Duchess, an unmarried, beautiful duchess.

The argument had swelled so much, to the point where Sir Patrick de Delany- Podmore drew his sword and challenged Duke Bard to a duel. Sir Patrick had eventually skewered the Duke enough to cause some bleeding on the Duke’s right arm. But the Duke had recovered and the duel continued. Duke Bard, who had the better sword and sharper skills, deftly sliced off Sir Patrick’s head. To avenge his friend’s death, Sir Nicholas had decided to finish the duel for him, the Duke’s way, like a Muggle.

He had picked up the fallen sword. "It’s not over yet, Duke Bard," Sir Nicholas recalled saying. The Duke had stopped, laughed, and agreed to continue. The fighting had gone on for some time. The clashing of swords could have been heard all across the palace. Clash! Swish! Clank! The duel continued on until the two duelers were at the West End of the palace. There, Sir Nicholas had the Duke pinned into a corner, Sir Nicholas’s sword at the Duke’s nose.

"Laughing now are you, Duke Bard?" Sir Nicholas panted, completely out of wind.

"You won’t be so triumphant in a moment," the Duke retailed, though he himself had not seemed so sure of that statement.

"Oh? Well then, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?" Sir Nicholas cracked an evil grin. He whipped the sword sideways, so the blade touched the Duke’s neck. The Duke pulled his breath in sharply and gulped.

"Cry mercy, my friend and your life shall be spared."

"Never, I say! Never!" the Duke cried in agony.

"That leaves me no choice." Before the Duke could say anything more, he was dead. His head had been cut off. Sir Nicholas gasped, catching his breath.

Back in the cell, the memory stayed strong in his head. The next day, the body had been found and Sir Nicholas had been arrested on murder charges. Now the footsteps approached and Sir Nicholas stood up, knowing what was about to happen. The guard came and said, "It’s time." Sir Nicholas got up and left the cell, hands behind his back. He was led into the execution room. The block awaited him.

"Come here." The executioner’s voice was deep. Sir Nicholas walked towards him, head held high. He placed his head on the block, ready for his fate. The executioner swung the ax down on Sir Nicholas’s head. Sir Nicholas cringed as he felt the horrific pain. Nothing happened. Sir Nicholas was still alive.

His mind drifted back to reality. Nearly Headless Nick shook his head a little, to recover from the stirring memory. He remembered how his soul had just floated up into air and become him again, as a ghost. Now here he was at Hogwarts, five hundred years later. His deathday party would begin in ten minutes and he needed to get down to the dungeon to see if everything was ready. The guests were arriving soon and he had the honor of having living people- Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger specifically, attend. His mind on the party, Nearly Headless Nick glided straight to the dungeons as fast as he could. He certainly did not want to be late for his own party.

A/N: I hoped you liked reading it as much as I liked writing it. Please review it. Comment, questions, criticisms, and compliments all welcomed. Thanks!