Deathdays and Chambers
When Harry woke up the day after his detention with Lockhart, he was still thinking about that odd voice. Ron, however, seemed unconcerned. He was merely tired from his own detention.
“Don’t worry about it, mate,” He had comforted as they stumbled off to breakfast. “You were probably just tired and annoyed and it came up as that voice.”
Harry mulled that over and conceded that Ron was probably right. With that now brushed off his chest, he felt much better as he guided Ron’s half-asleep self over a trick step.
It wasn’t long after the detentions before October hit the castle. Having not heard anything from the voice since, Harry firmly placed it with Ron’s suggestion of being tired. Classes were going well– even Lockhart’s. Professor Jackson had ended up actually taking over most of the teaching despite Lockhart’s adamant protests. It was odd to note that pretty much all of the girl’s swooned when the professor began teaching. Harry had also heard a few mutters and giggles from older girls that he frankly did not care to hear (thankfully nothing dirty but he made a point to avoid giggling groups of older girls from then on, just to be safe).
Professor Chase’s history class had taken off as well. They’d moved on from homonid forms of magic and firmly into the homosapiens, looking at extremely ancient ruins of olden magic civilizations and then backtracked, following the flow of evolution back into Africa, where they were now discussing how magic influenced the cultures and peoples that lived in ancient Africa. They’d be moving onto the Middle East next, then to Southern Asia, China, and Northern Asia. Each one would be gone through until modern day, and then they’d move onto the next civilization. Professor Chase said it was entirely possible they’d have to wait for Chinese, Mongolian, and Russian magical history until third year, but that she wouldn’t worry too much because the pacing was going well. Harry was excited.
The cold weather and storms that October brought with it did nothing to quell Oliver’s Quidditch spirit, unfortunately. This was showcased well when Harry and the rest of the team grumbled their way into the common room, leftover stains of mud and speckles of rain still blotting their uniforms and faces from where Katie’s cleaning and drying charm missed.
“You look cozy,” Hermione giggled. Harry shot her a dry look– in stark contrast to his soaking hair.
“We should take showers,” Angelina announced to the bedraggled team. “Don’t want to catch colds and give Madam Pomphrey more work.”
There were some grumbles of acknowledgement before everyone trodded off to their respective dorms.
Once he was warm and dried, Harry went for a little walk around the castle. It was something he liked to do in his freetime. Every month the castle seemed to get bigger and bigger, so he went on walks every now and again to not get so lost when he got new classes the next year. As Harry walked, he ended up running into Nearly-Headless Nick, who was quite put out at being rejected from the Headless Hunt for not being completely headless.
“Say, Harry,” Nick said as he floated down the hall alongside the wandering second year. He hesitated as he asked; “Would it be asking too much– but no, you wouldn’t want–”
“What is it?” Harry prompted the nervous-seeming ghost.
“Well,” Nick said, drawing himself up. “This Halloween will be my Five Hundredth Death day.”
“Err– Congratulations?” Harry tried. It seemed to be the correct thing to say as Nick looked quite pleased with the response.
“Thank you! Quite a big deal in the ghostly community. Well– I’m holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be an honor if you would attend. Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger invited of course, but I rather imagine you’d prefer to go to the feast?” The ghost watched him tentatively.
Truth betold, Harry was a little apprehensive about this year’s feast. True, the food was simply delectable, but after the troll last year and learning that it was the anniversary of his parent’s deaths… well he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.
“I’d love to come!” Harry said to his house ghost. Nick looked positively alive when he said so.
“Wonderful!” He cheered. “Here– It’s just on Halloween night, same time as the feast due to scheduling work-arounds–”
Nick gave him the directions to the room, before floating off. Harry, meanwhile, turned to go and find Ron and Hermione. Both of them agreed to go with him, which he appreciated greatly.
When Halloween rolled around, at seven o’clock, the three went past the Great Hall and down towards the dungeons.
“A promise is a promise,” Hermione scolded as she tugged Ron along when he paused to look longingly into the Great Hall.
“Yeah, yeah,” he groused, but followed along.
The halls leading down to the room Nick had directed Harry to were filled with ambiance. They were lit with black-stalked candles that burned with blue flames and cast an eerie glow over the corridors. The temperature steadily dropped as they marched down, down, down. Harry shivered and pulled his cloaks tighter around himself. If he knew it was going to be so cold he would have layered up. As they got closer to the room, they heard what sounded like nails scraping down a chalkboard. The three winced, a fizzy feeling building up behind Harry’s teeth as the sound wracked his bones.
Nearly-Headless Nick met them as they turned the corner, greeting them and bowing them into the room.
It was hauntingly breathtaking. The room was filled to the brim with pearly white silhouettes, some in the air, some on the floor, and some still arriving. Most, however, were drifting along the dance floor in a waltz, though the music sounded more like a dreadful, unbalanced saw. The orchestra played on a black-draped platform that matched the curtains of the entrance. A massive chandelier hung down, blazing with blue flame. Their breaths fogged in the air. It was freezing.
“Should we look around,” Harry asked, desperately wanting to warm his already cold feet.
“Just be careful not to walk through anyone,” Ron said, eyeing the crowd nervously. All three students shivered at the idea. They set off around the edge of the dance floor, passing by all sorts of odd ghosts including the other house ghosts.
“Oh no,” Hermione said, stopping abruptly. “Turn back, i don’t want to talk to Moaning Myrtle-”
“Who-?”
“Food!” Ron said at the same time as Harry. Hermione filled them in on who Moaning Myrtle was as they made their way to the feast table. However, they stopped short and backtracked when the smell of decay and rot got to them. All the food was moldy or charred like coal. Ron turned green.
“Nevermind,” he said faintly.
“Quite the spread, eh?”
Harry did a double take. “Professor Jackson?”
Indeed, Professor Jackson was also there. However, he was wearing what looked like a Greek toga with a brilliantly purple Roman sash and golden laurel. Despite his breath fogging the air, he didn’t look cold in the slightest.
“Like it?” he asked, looking over his outfit when he noticed the students staring. “Figured I’d dress up. It’s Nick’s Five Hundredth Death Day, after all! That doesn’t happen all the time!”
He laughed cheerfully.
“You look like an ancient Roman senator!” Hermione said, eyebrows raised high.
“Greco-Roman Praetor, actually,” Professor Jackson corrected absently as he looked about. “Nick mentioned you were coming and Annabeth figured you wouldn’t know just how cold it got so she’s bringing some extra cloaks. Ah- speaking of cold, you want some hot chocolate?”
“Yes please!” Ron cried before Harry could ask where he’d get it from. Professor Jackson nodded.
“Pip?” He called to thin air. WIth a pop! A small creature with bat-like ears appeared. They wore a lovely little teach dress and held a platter of hot cocoa with marshmallows.
“Here, Mister Percy,” they said with a soft voice and kind smile. Professor Jackson took the tray, returning the smile.
“Thank you so much. Oh! And excellent work on both feasts and the decor,” Professor Jackson said looking around. “Really, Annabeth couldn’t stop gushing!”
Pip blushed with a pleased smile as Professor Jackson handed each student a mug. Pip took back the empty tray.
“Oh, it was Pip’s pleasure! Pip loves decorating!” The creature squeaked.
“You organized the decorations?” Ron asked with his mouth agape. Pip nodded again.
“It really is awesome,” Harry agreed with Professor Jackson. Pip giggled.
“Pip must be working now, but call Pip when you’re done with the feast,” Pip commanded, eyeing the students firmly. “Pip will give you a saved portion of the Hallow’s Eve feast. You’ll be needing food. No skipping meals while Pip is in charge!”
The three students hastily agreed. Pip nodded with a satisfied look before popping back to wherever they came from. Professor Jackson was grinning wide.
“Pip’s the head house-elf,” he explained. “They’re really nice.”
“What’s a house-elf?” Hermione asked curiously.
“We’ll be going over them in the fourth year,” Professor Chase said, startling the students. She, too, was dressed in a Greek toga, though it lacked the embellishments Professor Jackson’s held. She wore a thick, fur-lined cloak over hers as well, passing out a few smaller ones. The trio of students gratefully accepted, bundling up.
Ron jumped as a massive black dog slunk up behind Professor Chase. He went pale, trembling as he pointed.
“H-hel-hel-” he tried. Professor Jackson just grinned and scratched the dog. A large tongue rolled out happily and it thumped its tail against the floor. Harry and Hermione giggled. It seemed like the dog was a lot like Fang.
“Ah, yes. Students, this is Mrs. O’Leary,” Professor Chase laughed as Professor Jackson handed her his mug to coo over the massive dog properly. “She’s Percy’s support dog but she adores scratches from everyone.”
“That’s… That’s a hellhound,” Ron said faintly.
“It’s fine, she’d perfectly tame,” Professor Chase said, scratching Mrs. O’Leary herself. Harry walked over and joined, hand burring in her thick fur. She seemed to emulate warmth– a welcome change from the freezing cold. He stumbled back a bit when she pitched into his hand. Professor Chase and Jackson laughed as Professor Chase steadied him. Soon enough Hermione joined as well, giggling as Mrs. O’Leary flopped over.
Nick floated over, greeting them jovially and somehow patting Mrs. O’Leary on the head. She greeted him with a soft woof. Harry guessed that Nick could touch her because of the whole ‘hellhound’ thing.
“Hello, Nick,” Professor Jackson greeted back. “Amazing party!”
“Thank you!” Nick beamed. “Yes, quite the turn out– oh my! You’re wearing your laurels!”
“Well, it is an important event,” Professor Chase grinned. Nick’s cheeks turned a deep blue. He seemed very pleased by this statement.
“AH- well- I-” He unnecessarily cleared his throat. “Thank you! I am honored! I’m about to go up and make my speech– must go tell the orchestra-”
But the orchestra already paused with a sort of excitement. Everyone else in the dungeon also fell silent. Professor Jackson stood, taking his mug back from Professor Chase as Mrs. O’Leary flipped over to sit upright, ears perking as a hunting horn sounded.
“Oh, here we go,” Nick grumbled, mood suddenly crashing. Professor Chase and Jackson seemed to share a glance, gray streaks almost shimmering in the blue candlelight.
Through the walls of the dungeon burst a dozen headless men riding horses. The assembly clapped wildly. Harry was about to join in, confused, but stopped when he noticed both Nick’s face and that Professor Chase and Jackson weren’t clapping. In fact, both seemed entirely unimpressed.
The horses galloped into the center of the room, all the ghosts making way from them, peering on in awe. The ghost at the head of the pack had his head under his arm, from where he was blowing his horn. He hopped off his horse and held up his head to see above the crowd– to which all the ghosts laughed– and strode over to Nick and squashed his head back on his neck.
“Nick!” He bellowed merrily. “How are you? Head still hanging in there?”
He burst into loud guffaws. Nick looked very put out.
“Hello, Patrick,” he greeted bitterly.
“Live ‘uns!” Sir Patrick shouted when he spotted the group of living, giving an exaggerated jump that had his head rolling off his shoulders. The crowd howled with laughter. Professor Chase and Jackson looked at him with stony, unamused faces.
“Sorry, Nick, what were you saying before you were so rudely interrupted?” Professor Jackson asked with a smile, completely ignoring Sir Patrick, who’s head looked utterly shocked by this display.
“Ah, yes,” Nick said, pulling himself from Sir Patrick’s grasp and straightening his clothes. “It’s time for my speech– if you’ll excuse me, Patrick.”
Confidence apparently restored and with the attention of the crowd of ghosts, Nick began his speech. Harry couldn’t really remember much over his hunger, but soon Professor Chase and Jackson were politely excusing them all from the party as the orchestra began again, and ushered the trio from the room.
“We’ll escort you back to Gryffindor Tower,” Professor Jackson said. “That way you won’t get in trouble. Then we’ll call Pip and get you guys some food.”
“Sounds amazing,” Ron groaned, having drained his hot chocolate ages ago.
As they were walking through the corridor, Harry froze.
“Rip… tear… kill…” it was the voice again!
“Harry, what’s wrong-?” Hermione asked.
“It’s that voice again,” Harry said, straining his ears to listen. Professor Chase and Jackson immediately drew alert.
“What voice?” Professor Chase asked. “What is it saying.”
The steel in her grey eyes told him he would not get out of not saying anything.
“Sooo hungry… for so long…”
“It- It’s saying it’s hungry,” Harry said. “It said earlier-”
“Kill… time to kill…”
“It- it says it’s time to kill!” Harry said, hysteria creeping into his voice. Professor Jackson placed a calm, firm hand on his shoulder.
“Harry, is the voice moving?”
“Yes!” Harry cried, as he heard it creeping down the hall. “It’s going this way!”
“Okay, we’ll go see, but stay behind Percy and I, okay?” Professor Chase commanded sternly. “Mrs. O’Leary will bring up the flank, just in case.”
Mrs. O’Leary’s bark echoed across the hall. Her lava eyes blazed as she took up a tense position guarding the three students. Harry had never been so relieved to be with two adults.
The group traveled down the hall, both professors with their wands at the ready. They paused at the corner. Both professors peeking out, before they gasped and raced out.
“It’s safe!” Professor Chase called. “But…”
The trio and the dog rounded the corner, paling at the sight. Water was trailed across the ground– likely from the rain– that they splashed through. And written in foot-high words, there was a message.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
“What…” Hermione whispered, horrified, as she gripped the back of Ron’s cloak with one hand, covering her mouth with another. Professor Jackson carefully removed the frozen form of Mrs. Norris from where she was hanging off the wall by her tail. Mrs. O’Leary nudged them further into the corridor as the rumble of feet echoed from either side. The fest was done. And the students were coming up the corridor. All noise and chatter stopped abruptly as they say Harry, Hermione, and Ron standing next to Mrs. O’Leary, with Professor Chase helping down Professor Jackson from where he’d climbed to grab Mrs. Norris.
“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudblood!” Pansy Parkison sneered from the crowd. Curiously, Draco Malfoy gave her a glare. Professor Jackson whipped to her with stormy eyes as he cradled Mrs. Norris’ frozen form.
“Detention, Parkison!” He barked. She paled and shuffled back.
“Warned you,” Draco mumbled.