Written for KeepsTheNarglesAway's deadliest setting competition (Stanley Hotel, Colorado)

Five Hundred and Seven Years of Death

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington had died almost five hundred and seven years ago. He had seen many students come and go over the years, some likeable, others not so much.

He remembered that boy, Tom Riddle; the one who had turned out to be the greatest Dark wizard to ever exist. He also remembered the boy, Harry Potter, who had come fifty years later.

The boy who had just defeated Tom Riddle last year. Nick liked that boy.

But he was gone now, and so were his friends. Rumour had it that Mr Potter was taking up training in the Ministry of Magic to become an Auror, along with some of his friends. Mr Ronald Weasley, too. And Mr Neville Longbottom.

However, Miss Hermione Granger had returned. It had taken Nick by surprise to see her strolling down the corridor with the youngest Weasley girl, on their way to classes. It was the day before his deathday, and he couldn't help but stop them along the way.

"Miss Granger, Miss Weasley!" he exclaimed cheerfully, frightening the two young women as he approached them from behind. "Fancy seeing the two of you here this year!"

"Hello, Nick," Hermione said, smiling at him. "How are you?

Nick waved her away. "Oh, you know," he said, "Tomorrow and all."

Hermione gave a short not in understanding, but the Weasley girl frowned. "Tomorrow?" she asked.

"Nick, um, passed away on Halloween," Hermione explained, trying to sound tactful.

"Five hundred and seven years ago, to be exact," Nick cut in.

"Oh, I'm… sorry," Ginny said.

Nick waved his hand at her. "Oh, don't be," he said. "It's been five hundred years. I am rather used to it by now."

It was obvious that neither knew whether to smile or take pity on him. "Miss Granger, you have been to my deathday party once before, but please come again. I'd really love it if you could."

He saw the colour drain from her face, and sighed. "Though, of course, the feast is much better. I'd much rather go there myself, if I could taste food." A sour expression formed on his face. It had been over five hundred years since he'd last tasted food.

"Oh… thanks for the offer," Hermione said weakly. "Though, I doubt I'll even be joining the feast this year. I have so much work to catch up on, and –"

Nick held up a hand, telling her she didn't need to make an excuse. She had come once before, of course he wouldn't expect her to again. "Not much fun being around ghosts, is it?" he said, and then he bowed to them. "Good day to both of you."

Of course the Baron and the Grey Lady would come, along with the Fat Friar and the other ghosts who lurked around the school. It was the only celebration they had – no one else was willing to celebrate their own deaths.

…

A racket filled the Great Hall that Halloween; loud banging, crashing and scraping noises. Students covered their ears, looking around in fright as to where it could be coming from. The headmistress, Professor McGonagall, was on her feet, a hand covering her right ear.

"What is it?" Ginny shouted at Hermione over the noise.

"Oh, I have a fair idea," Hermione commented, pointing to the opened doors of the Great Hall. To the astonishment of many of the students, in floated at least twenty ghosts. One was playing a terrible, out of tune, song on the bagpipes, which explained the ear-piercing noise, while his fellow ghost banged on what appeared to be ghost-drums.

Even McGonagall looked slightly startled by what was occurring, but she didn't try to stop it as they came down the centre of the Hall, two-by-two.

"Is this -?"

Hermione nodded, answering, "Yes," before Ginny could finish her question. At the back of the pack came Nearly Headless Nick, beaming at the sudden attention the school was giving him. Escorting him – if that was what one wanted to call it – was a small, female ghost, who appeared to have been about twenty-five when she died. Nick waved to the students as he progressed down the hall, stopping just behind the cohort of music players.

"Students of Hogwarts!" Nick shouted to a silent hall. "I invite you all to me five hundred and seventh deathday party!"

There was a stunned silence, and Nick suddenly looked embarrassed, if that were even possible.

"Er, in the dungeons," he added, and then turned around again, the procession leaving the Great Hall as loudly as they had come.

For a moment longer, students simply sat where they were, staring after the Hogwarts ghosts as if trying to process what had happened. Then suddenly, McGonagall's voice boomed around the hall.

"If students would like to attend this… this deathday part, they will be more than welcome," she announced uncertainly. "Those wishing to remain at the feast can also do so."

Ginny looked to Hermione with a raised eyebrow, and Hermione could read her expression easily. "Oh no," she said. "No, no, I've been to one of those before, and one was quite enough, thank you."

"But I haven't," Ginny said, grinning.

Hermione shook her head, but Ginny had already pulled her to her feet. "Come on," she said. "Let's go and see this deathday party."

The moment Ginny and Hermione were on their feet, almost all the other students and teachers followed. They all scrambled to leave the Great Hall at once, excited whispers echoing around the room.

"A deathday party?" one second year asked.

"With ghosts?" shouted a fourth year.

"This is better than any Halloween!"

And suddenly, all that could be heard for the rest of that evening was ear-splitting, horrible music coming from the dungeons; and laughter.

It was the best Halloween any student had ever had. And that was saying something.

I researched (briefly) the Stanley Hotel, and learnt that there were rumours that parties in the ballroom could be heard but when someone checked there was no one in there, so this is where this fic was inpisred from. I hope you enjoyed, and your reviews would be much appreciated.