The Deathday Party
October arrived, and with it, a damp chill spread over the grounds and into the castle, and so, Madam’s Cutburn pepper-up potion was bread to work instantly as a sudden spat of clouds spread among staff and students, though it left the drinkers smoking at the ears for several hours afterwards “It looks like the school is filled with steam engine trains” Luz thought one afternoon.
Amity Blight, who had been looking peaky, was bullied into taking some by her siblings the steam coming out of her ears gave a cartoonish look to the ever-serious-looking girl. At this point, Hagrid’s pumpkins had swelled to the size of garden sheds.
The grounds became muddy, the lake rose, and thunder and lighting made the nights loud and the mornings restless. Oliver Wood’s enthusiasm, however, never dampened. The regular training sections continued, and that was why Willow could be found returning, on a late Saturday afternoon, a few days before Halloween, to Gryffindor common room drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.
“Not my greatest day,” she said as she fell into an armchair. “This is no weather to practice, can’t Wood see this is too much?” Gus said as he conjured a few towels for Willow to clean herself “For him, it's not enough, he said that the Slytherin team is filled with morale ever since they gained the new equipment and we need to train 10 times harder” Willow let out a loud sigh.
“But there is more…” Willow said gloomily “On my way here I met with Nearly Headless Nick, he was upset because his application to the Headless Hunt was declined due to the ‘half an inch of skin’ holding his head" Willow explained.
"I heard him complaining about someone called Sir Podmore when suddenly I heard Ark approaching, I’d be in trouble because I was mudding the Hall” Luz and Gus exchanged worried looks, it wasn't a great day for Willow.
“But Nick helped me, he called Peeves with some kind of music, and Ark got distracted by the loud noise, and I managed to escape… And I… kinda said that I could get Luz to come to his Deathday party… On Halloween … Is his 500th, so he wants to make it special” Luz looked confused “Well, it is something most living people would never have the chance to go… although celebrating someone’s death is a bit depressing” Gus added.
Luz accepted it, she would never let such kindness go unnoticed, especially to a friend. But Luz eventually regretted accepting the invitation without a single question about the details of the said party with its host.
The rest of the school was anticipating their Halloween feast, the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, and Hagrid’s pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for 3 men to sit in. Rumours said that Principal Bump had booked a troop of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.
“A promise is a promise,” Luz muttered to herself as they marched past the inviting lights of the Great Hall toward the dungeons. The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party had been lined with candles, though the effect was far from cheerful: These were long, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light even over their own living faces. Every step they took made the temperature drop and what appeared to be the sound of a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard could be heard.
“Is this supposed to be music?” Luz whispered. Nearly Headless Nick welcomed them in with a bow. Inside the dungeon was an incredible sight, hundreds of ghosts drifted around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful quavering sound of Thirty Musical Saws played by an orchestra on a black-draped platform.
A chandelier overhead blazed midnight blue with a thousand more black candles, their breaths rose in a mist before them “Shall we take a look around?” Luz suggested wanting to warm up her feet. They passed by numerous ghosts, some familiar like the Fat Friar and the Bloody Baron, some they never met like a knight with an arrow stuck in his forehead.
“Turn back, turn back now,” Willow said abruptly “Why?” Gus asked confused. “It’s Moaning Myrtle,'' Willow said and Luz helped her drag a confused Gus. Luz had never actually seen the ghost that haunted the girls' toilets on the first floor, she only knew that they have been out of order the whole year due to her tantrums, so Luz made everything she could to never have to use them, she could only imagine how awful it would have her wailing at you while you try to go to the loo.
They approached a long table, also covered in black velvet, with food, but they stopped in their tracks the very next moment. The smell was disgusting, large rotten fish, cakes burned charcoal black, a maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mould, and in pride place, an enormous grey cake in the shape of a tombstone with tar-like icing forming the words: “Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, died 31st October 1492” were spread in plates across the table.
Luz watched, amazed and disturbed, as the ghosts walked through the food “Ah… I can almost taste it” one ghost said sadly as he drifted away. “Can we move? I feel sick,” said Willow, but they’d barely turned around when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in midair before them “Hello… Peeves,” said Luz cautiously “Hiiii, heard you talking about Myrtle,” a devilish grin formed in his face “Rude, very rude,” he nodded and took a deep breath and bellowed “Oie, Myyyrrrtleeee!” Willow almost begged for Peeves to stop but to no avail.
The squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face Luz had ever seen, half hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles “What?” she said sulkily “How are you, Myrtle?” said Willow in a falsely bright voice “It's nice to see you out of the toilet,” Myrtle sniffed.
“Miss Park was just talking about you — ” said Peeves slyly in Myrtle's ear “Just saying… how nice you look tonight,” Willow said, glaring at Peeves. Myrtle eyed Willow suspiciously “You're making fun of me,” she said, silver tears welling rapidly in her small, see-through eyes.
“No, I swear, didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?” said Willow, nudging Luz and Gus painfully in the ribs. “Oh, yeah,” Luz agreed “She did,” Gus confirmed “Don't lie to me,” Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face, while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder.
“Do you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!” Peeves hissed in her ear, “You've forgotten pimply”. Moaning Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and fled from the dungeon.
“Pimply! Pimply!” Peeves yelled and shot after her, pelting her with mouldy peanuts. “Oh, dear,” said Gus sadly. “Enjoying yourselves?” Nearly Headless Nick now drifted toward them through the crowd “Oh, yes,” they lied.
“Not a bad turnout,” said Nearly Headless Nick proudly “The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent… It's nearly time for my speech, I'd better go and warn the orchestra--” The orchestra, however, stopped playing at that very moment.
They, and everyone else in the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excitement, as a hunting horn sounded “Oh, here we go,” said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly. Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman.
The assembly clapped wildly, and Luz started to clap, too but stopped quickly at the sight of Nick's face. The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging. At the front of the pack was a large ghost who held his bearded head under his arm, from which position he was blowing the horn.
The ghost leapt down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd (everyone laughed), and strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck “Nick!” he roared “How are you? Head still hanging in there?” He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder.
“Welcome, Patrick,” said Nick stiffly “Live 'uns!” said Sir Patrick, spotting Luz, Gus, and Willow and giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again, the crowd howled with laughter “Very amusing,” said Nearly Headless Nick darkly.
“Don't mind Nick!” shouted Sir Patrick's head from the floor “Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say, look at the fellow — ” Luz said hurriedly, at a meaningful look from Nick “I think, Nick's very frightening and — ”
Sir Patrick's head yelled, “Ha! Bet he asked you to say that!”. Nearly Headless Nick said loudly; “If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!” He strode toward the podium and climbed into an icy blue spotlight.
“My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…” But nobody heard much more as Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunt had just started a game of Head Hockey and the crowd was turning to watch.
Nearly Headless Nick tried vainly to recapture his audience but gave up as Sir Patrick's head went sailing past him to loud cheers. Luz was very cold by now, not to mention hungry “I can't stand much more of this,” Willow muttered, her teeth chattering. The orchestra ground back into action and the ghosts swept back onto the dance floor.
“Let's go” Luz agreed. They said their goodbyes to Nearly Headless Nick and backed toward the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles “Pudding might not be finished yet” said Gus hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall.
And then Luz heard it; “ Reap… tear… kill… ” the same cold murderous voice from De Plume’s office. She stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all her might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.
“It’s the voice again” Luz said and the two turned to look at her “ So hungry… for so long ” Willow and Gus exchanged looks, both confused “ Time to kill… ” Luz was sure it was moving because it was growing fainter “This way” She shouted. How could it be moving upwards? Was it a ghost? A mixture of fear and excitement gripped her.
The trio ran up the stairs, the babble of the talk made it impossible for Luz to hear the voice. They made their way to the first floor, Willow and Gus clattering behind Luz, asking confused what they were doing “Shhh” Luz strained her ears “It’s going to kill someone” the voice grew ever fainter.
She ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over her own pounding footsteps. Luz hurtled around the whole second floor, Gus and Willow panting behind her, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.
“Luz, what was that all about?” said Willow, wiping sweat off her face “I couldn't hear anything…” But Gus gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor “Look!” and something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been dubbed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.
THE DEAD MAN’S HALL HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE LEGATEE, BEWARE
“What the–” Willow’s voice shook when she saw it. Luz walked closer and almost slipped over, there was a large puddle of water on the floor. Willow and Gus grabbed her and they inched toward the wall. They were so focused that they only noticed the other thing in the wall once they got closer.
A Kare-taker was hanging by its own shepherd crook from the ceiling, it was stiff as a board. It was bone-chilling. The trio lept back with a splash “It’s… Ark…” Gus muttered “Azura’s… it looks like… it hanged itself” Silence filled the passageway, only the fire of the torches could be heard.
“We need to get out of here…” Willow broke the silence “Shouldn't we try and help?” Luz began awkwardly “Trust me, we don't want to be found here” But it was too late. A rumble told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs.
All noise died suddenly when the people spotted the hanging Kare-taker. Luz, Willow, and Gus stood alone in the middle of the corridor as the silence fell among the mass of students until a voice shouted through the quiet “Enemies of the legatee, beware. You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” It was Boscha who had pushed to the front of the crowd with the help of Lucas Greenfield, a Slytherin boy who had joined her gang this year, she flushed in her face and a grin at the sight of the hanging Kare-taker.