Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.
Chapter 7 – Halloween
The days continued through September and into October. The weather outside the castle became colder and gloomier. Weekends were now spent doing an endless amount of homework; Lucy and her friends hardly even had time to visit Hagrid anymore, because their classes were becoming more demanding. Harry also had Quidditch practice multiple days of the week. Lucy didn't envy him for that.
Lucy was so far enjoying her second-year. Her circle of friends had grown considerably. She made a lot of study dates with Jeremy, Daphne, and Jake; they met in the library, where they were periodically shushed by the librarian Madam Pince.
When Lucy studied in the common room, she was usually joined by Hermione, Ron, and Harry—when he wasn't at practice. Sally-Anne sometimes studied with her, as well. Every once in a while, Lucy would even help Colin with his homework; Harry and Ron usually made themselves scarce whenever they saw Colin approaching them, however.
Whenever Lucy needed a break from her studies, Fred and George never failed to be helpful. There were many games of Exploding Snap played in order to distract from class work.
The only person that seemed distant was Ginny. Lucy was concerned about the younger girl, but whenever she tried to ask Ginny how she was doing, Ginny would brush her off. Lucy hardly ever saw Ginny at mealtimes anymore, but she knew through Colin that Ginny was at least attending her classes.
~LJ:SD~
The Saturday before Halloween found Lucy and Ron sitting in the common room and doing their Potions homework. Hermione had already finished her Potions and had continued on to her History of Magic essay. Harry was once again out at Quidditch practice.
"Hermione, could I just peek at your Potions?" Ron begged for what seemed like the hundredth time.
Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "How do you ever expect to learn anything on your own if I let you copy off mine?" she said exasperatedly.
"I'm not trying to copy you!" Ron insisted. "I just want to make sure that my answers are right."
"Well, then, you can read me your answers," Hermione replied with a smirk, "and I'll let you know if they're right."
Ron flushed a bit, looking down at his paper. "I hadn't gotten that far yet," he mumbled darkly.
Hermione chuckled and returned to her essay.
Ron started, "Hey, Lucy—"
"Don't even ask me, Ron," Lucy stopped him before he could finish. "I'm not going to let you cheat off me, either."
The portrait hole swung open then, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team came piling in, looking quite muddy.
Lucy looked up expectantly, but she didn't see Harry among them. "Hey, George, Fred!" she called as the twins came marching by. They both stopped and grinned at her, and she smiled back. "Where's Harry?" she asked.
The boys shrugged.
"He's not here already?" George asked. "I thought he left before us."
"I'm sure he'll be back soon," Fred added. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we're going to have a shower."
"Together?" Lucy asked, snorting in laughter.
George rolled his eyes, and the brothers left for the boys' staircase.
It was almost twenty minutes later that Harry arrived in the common room. He hurried to his friends, saying that he had something to tell them, then disappeared up to his dormitory.
Ron said, "Hermione—"
"Ronald, I'm not going to do your homework for you," Hermione snapped at him, and Ron grumbled something incoherently.
Lucy flicked his arm. "Seriously, Ron, you're not going to learn anything if you don't even try," she scolded him.
Ron dropped his homework onto the table in front of them and flopped back into his chair. "I am trying," he insisted, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand.
Lucy set her homework down, as well. She stretched her arms over her head and yawned.
A few minutes later, Harry returned, free of mud and his hair damp. He came over to the table and sat in the open seat.
"So, what's up, Harry?" Lucy prompted him immediately. "What did you want to tell us?"
"I ran into Nick on the way back to the common room," Harry started. "Apparently, the anniversary of his death is coming up—on Halloween—and he's invited all of us to his deathday party."
Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington—known as Nearly Headless Nick to the students—was the Gryffindor house ghost. The reason he was called nearly headless was because his murderer had used a blunt axe that hadn't completely chopped off Nick's head. His head was now attached to his neck by just a bit of skin.
"A deathday party?" Hermione repeated, intrigued. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those—it'll be fascinating!"
"So, it's like a birthday party, except it's for his death," Lucy said. "Very… interesting."
"Why would anybody want to celebrate the way they died?" Ron protested. "Sounds dead depressing to me."
Lucy rolled her eyes. "Stop being so grumpy about your Potions homework," she said. "If you want, we can work together." This seemed to brighten Ron up a bit.
Suddenly, there was a bang, and a small salamander shot into the air from where Fred and George were now sitting. Percy jumped up and started yelling at his younger brothers, telling them to stop the salamander immediately, but the rest of the students were too amused by the creature flying around the room to pay him any attention.
~LJ:SD~
Lucy had nearly forgotten about the deathday party until Halloween day, when Harry confided in his friends that he was regretting his decision to go.
"A promise is a promise," Hermione admonished. "You said you'd go to the party."
"Just because Harry said he'd go doesn't mean the rest of us should have to," Ron muttered, to which Lucy nudged him.
"He's our friend, and we have to have his back," she said to him.
Ron huffed but didn't say anything else.
~LJ:SD~
In the evening, the four friends split off from the rest of the school to go to the deathday party. The rest of Gryffindor house were making their way into the Great Hall, while Lucy and her friends headed down to the dungeons. The further they went, the colder it became, and as they neared the dungeon, they could hear a high-pitched screeching noise.
"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron asked under his breath, wrinkling his nose.
Hermione marched on ahead of them, and the other three followed sluggishly. They rounded a corner and came face to face with Nearly Headless Nick.
"My dear friends," he greeted in a sorrowful voice. "Welcome, welcome.… So pleased you could come.…" He bowed them into the dungeon, and they hesitantly entered.
There were hundreds of ghosts already present, floating around the room. It was also much colder once they were in the dungeon rather than when they were in the passageway.
"Shall we have a look around?" Harry asked, seeming uncertain about what to do next.
"Careful not to walk through anyone," Ron added dryly.
They made their way around the edge of the room, Lucy and Hermione pulling their robes closer around themselves.
All of a sudden, Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Oh no," she muttered. "Turn back. Turn back! I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle—"
Lucy couldn't help but crane her head around, looking for the ghost in question.
"Who?" Harry asked with a blank look on his face.
"She haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor," Lucy explained to him and Ron.
"She haunts a toilet?" Ron repeated in disbelief.
"Yes," Hermione answered. "It's nearly always out-of-order, because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there, anyway, if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you—"
"Look—food!" Ron interrupted as he spotted a table, and Hermione huffed quietly at him cutting her off.
They were almost to the table when they stopped, their noses wrinkling against the stench. The food on the table was all rotten and gone bad. The four Gryffindors watched as a ghost drifted up to the table, opened his mouth wide, and floated through the table so the food passed through his mouth.
"Can you taste it if you walk through it?" Harry asked the ghost.
"Almost," he croaked before gliding back towards the dance floor.
"I expect they've let it rot to give it a strong flavor," Hermione speculated, and Lucy shuddered.
"Can we move? I feel sick," Ron said, looking dejected.
They turned away from the table when a ghost-like creature swooped in front of them. It was Peeves, the Poltergeist of Hogwarts.
"Hello, Peeves," Harry greeted politely.
"Nibbles?" Peeves offered with a mischievous grin, holding up a bowl of moldy peanuts.
Lucy struggled to stop herself from gagging.
"No, thanks," Hermione said.
"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle," Peeves said to her, giggling nastily. "Rude you was about poor Myrtle."
"Please, like you've never been rude to anybody," Lucy muttered, glaring at the Poltergeist.
Peeves leered gleefully at her before opening his mouth wide. "OY! MYRTLE!" he shouted.
"Oh, no, Peeves! Don't tell her what I said! She'll be really upset," Hermione begged desperately. "I didn't mean it! I don't mind her—er, hello, Myrtle."
The ghost of the girl had floated up to them. She looked positively miserable. "What?" she sniffed at Peeves.
"How are you Myrtle?" Hermione put in immediately. "It's nice to see you out of the toilet."
Myrtle didn't say anything, giving Hermione a leveling stare.
"Miss Granger was just talking about you," Peeves stage whispered into Myrtle's ear.
"Just saying—saying—how nice you look tonight," Hermione said hurriedly, shooting a hard look at Peeves.
"You're making fun of me," Myrtle said, her eyes watering.
"No, no!" Lucy jumped in, trying to help her friend. "Hermione was telling us that you look lovely tonight. Right?" She elbowed the boys.
"Oh, yeah," Ron said vaguely.
"She did," Harry agreed, looking nervously at the female ghost.
"Don't lie to me!" Myrtle cried. "D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"
Peeves smirked at the second-years over her shoulder. "You've forgotten pimply," he added nastily in the ghost's ear.
Myrtle screamed out a sob and zoomed away. Peeves winked meanly at Lucy and her friends before floating after Myrtle, throwing moldy peanuts after her.
"Oh, dear," Hermione muttered.
"Enjoying yourselves?" Nick had appeared at their sides.
"Oh, yes," the four of them said immediately.
"Not a bad turnout. The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent," Nick said, beaming around the dungeon. "Well, it's nearly time for my speech. I'd better go and warn the orchestra."
Before he could go anywhere, however, the orchestra halted on its own. A faint blasting of a horn could be heard.
"Oh, here we go," Nick muttered darkly.
Through the wall burst a group of ghost horses. Each one was mounted by a headless rider. The rest of the ghost guests began clapping enthusiastically.
The rider at the head of the pack jumped down from his horse, holding his head in his hand. "Nick!" he shouted, making his way towards Nick. "How are you? Head still hanging in there?" He planted his head back onto his neck and then thumped Nick a couple times on the shoulder.
"Welcome, Patrick," Nick replied coolly.
Patrick beamed around the room, and his focus zeroed in on the four Gryffindors. "Live 'uns!" he gasped. He pretended to jump away from them in fear, causing his head to roll off his shoulders.
The crowd seemed to love that, breaking out into more cheers. Lucy frowned.
"Very amusing," Nick muttered, scowling.
"Don't mind Nick!" Patrick continued loudly to the crowd. "Still upset we won't let him join the Headless Hunt! But I mean to say—look at the fellow—!"
"I think," Harry started off, looking nervous, "Nick's very—frightening and—er—"
"Ha!" Patrick shouted. "Bet he asked you to say that!"
Lucy glared at him. "Being dead doesn't give you the right to be rude," she spat. "So far, Nick is ten times the ghost that you are, even if his head is still on his shoulders!"
Patrick narrowed his eyes at her, and out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw Nick beaming proudly.
"If I could have everyone's attention," Nick called, making his way over to the podium at the front of the dungeon, "it's time for my speech!" He gathered himself for a moment before beginning, "My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…"
Patrick took it upon himself to begin a game of Head Hockey with his fellow members as Nick tried to continue his speech.
Lucy was seething, but then she heard Ron mutter, "I can't stand much more of this." The orchestra started to play their terrible music again, and Lucy turned to see all three of her friends shivering.
"Let's go," Harry replied, and the other three nodded.
They quickly scampered for the dungeon door, shooting smiles at any ghosts who bothered to look at them. There weren't many. Lucy felt bad for leaving without saying anything to Nick, but she could feel the warmth of the castle as they hurried out the door and up the steps.
"Pudding might not be finished yet," Ron said as he took the lead to the entrance hall.
"Always thinking about food," Lucy teased, although getting anything to eat sounded like heaven to her empty stomach.
Suddenly, Harry stopped. He clutched to the wall, pressing an ear against it and looking up and down the hall.
Hermione started, "Harry, what're you—?"
"It's that voice again—shut up a minute," he urged, and Hermione clammed up immediately.
Lucy and Ron exchanged a confused look.
"Listen!" Harry exclaimed, but the other three could only watch him dumbfounded.
"What voice, Harry?" Lucy asked.
Harry sprang away from the wall and sprinted for the main marble staircase. "This way!" he called back at them, and they hurried after him.
They shot through the entrance hall and up the stairs, and Hermione asked, "Harry, what're we—?"
"SHH!" Harry insisted as he lead the way. Then, after a few seconds of only panting, Harry shouted, "It's going to kill someone!"
"What?" Lucy asked, feeling so confused.
They ran along a corridor, Harry in the lead. Finally, they hurtled around one last corner to a corridor with a dead end. Harry skidded to a stop, and the others followed suit.
"Harry, what was that all about?" Ron asked, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robes. "I couldn't hear anything!"
"Neither could I," Lucy agreed.
Hermione let out a gasp and pointed towards the end of the corridor. "Look!" she cried hoarsely.
Harry immediately started down the corridor, with his friends following. When they got close enough, they could see that words had been painted onto the wall at the end of the hall.
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened," Lucy read aloud. "Enemies of the heir, beware. What does that mean?"
"What's that thing—hanging underneath?" Ron asked, sounding anxious. He pointed to the torch on the wall.
Harry slowly stepped closer, pausing for a moment when his foot touched water. There was a large puddle on the floor, Lucy now noticed.
They took a few more steps forward, and then they were close enough to see what was hanging there: it was Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat. The four of them sprang backwards. Water soaked into Lucy's shoes as they splashed through the puddle. They all stared at the cat, transfixed and not sure what to do next.
"Let's get out of here," Ron finally spoke up.
"Shouldn't we try and help?" Harry asked desperately.
Lucy shook her head. "Trust me," she said. "We don't want to be found here."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, however, they heard a noise growing nearer. The rest of the student body had finished the Halloween feast and were coming down the corridor. Lucy and the others couldn't move as the chattering groups of people caught up to them. They all slowed and stopped, staring at the cat hanging from the wall and the words glittering around her.
"Enemies of the heir, beware!" Malfoy had elbowed his way to the front, smiling gleefully. "You'll be next, Mudbloods!"
Lucy glared at Malfoy, but before she could say anything, another voice was shouting above the crowd. "What's going on here? What's going on?"
Lucy's stomach dropped as Filch pushed through the crowd of students. When he noticed what was on the wall, he let out a cry of pain. "My cat! My cat!" he wailed. "What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" He looked around wildly before his eyes landed on Harry. "You! You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her!"
Harry was shaking his head vigorously.
"I'll kill you!" Filch screamed. "I'll—!"
"Argus!"
Lucy let out a sigh of relief as Professor Dumbledore strode up the hallway towards them, followed by most of the other professors. He surveyed the scene briefly before reaching out and detaching the cat from the torch on the wall. "Come with me, Argus," he said softly to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Jones."
Lockhart jumped forward. "My office is nearest, Headmaster," he said eagerly. "Just upstairs—please feel free—"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said.
He set off down the hall, with Filch trudging after him. Lockhart followed, beaming away at the students as he passed. Harry led his friends next after a stern look from Professor McGonagall, who took up the rear with Snape.
~LJ:SD~
Once in Lockhart's office, Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on the desk and bent over her. Professor McGonagall silently ushered the four Gryffindors into chairs along the wall.
"It was definitely a curse that killed her," Lockhart said loudly, pacing around the table. "Probably the Transmogrifian Torture—I've seen it used many times. So unlucky I wasn't there! I know the very countercurse that would have saved her.…"
Lucy glanced at Hermione to see her giving Lockhart her rapt attention.
Next to the desk, Filch sat hunched over in a chair, holding his face in his hands. He was heaving dry sobs and shaking, not able to look at his cat. Meanwhile, Dumbledore took his wand out and started tapping the cat, muttering words under his breath.
"I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," Lockhart continued. "A series of attacks—the full story's in my autobiography—I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared up the matter at once." He took a breath and started to count how many murders he had personally prevented, but he was interrupted when Dumbledore straightened up.
"She's not dead, Argus," the headmaster informed the room.
Lockhart halted mid word.
Filch stopped crying. "Not dead?" he asked, sounding unconvinced. "Then why's she all—all stiff and frozen?
"She has been Petrified," Dumbledore replied.
"Ah! I thought so!" Lockhart cut in, beaming.
"No, you bloody didn't," Ron muttered under his breath so only Lucy could hear, and she had to stifle a giggle.
"But how, I cannot say," Dumbledore finished, ignoring Lockhart.
"Ask him!" Filch cried, pointing wildly in Harry's direction, to which Lucy rolled her eyes.
"No second-year could have done this," Dumbledore said evenly but firmly. "It would take Dark magic of the most advanced—"
"He did it! He did it!" Filch screamed over Dumbledore, jumping up. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found—in my office—he knows I'm a—I'm a—He knows I'm a Squib!"
Lucy and Ron exchanged elbow nudges at this exclamation, but Hermione looked sympathetic.
"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry insisted. "And I don't even know what a Squib is."
"Rubbish!" Filch hissed angrily. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"
"If I might speak, Headmaster," Snape called out softly. He stepped closer to the desk from where he'd been hiding in the shadows. "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"
"We were at Nick's deathday party!" Lucy exclaimed, very annoyed that they were being accused of something that Dumbledore himself said they couldn't have done.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded and chimed in to help explain.
"There were hundreds of ghosts," Ron finished. "They'll tell you we were there!"
"And why not join the feast afterward?" Snape asked. "Why go up to that corridor?"
Lucy was fuming, but she saw Hermione look anxiously at Harry.
Harry stuttered, "Because—because—because we were tired and wanted to go to bed."
"Without any supper?" Snape pressed. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."
"We weren't hungry," Ron announced, which was almost drowned out by his stomach letting out a loud rumble.
Snape smiled in victory.
"What's it to you that we decided we didn't want to go to the feast?" Lucy snapped. "We didn't touch Mrs. Norris, and we didn't write those words on that wall!"
Snape's smile turned into a sneer, and he turned back to Dumbledore. "I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he concluded. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest—"
"Really, Severus," Professor McGonagall finally spoke up, eyeing Snape suspiciously, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."
Dumbledore was ignoring both professors. He was simply looking at Harry. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he finally stated.
Snape and Filch both looked furious.
"My cat has been Petrified!" Filch bellowed. "I want to see some punishment!"
"We will be able to cure her, Argus," Dumbledore reassured him. "Professor Sprout has recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."
"I'll make it!" Lockhart volunteered enthusiastically. "I must have done it a hundred times! I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep."
"Excuse me," Snape cut in coldly, "but I believe I am the Potions Master at this school."
There was a tense silence as Snape stared down the oblivious Lockhart.
Dumbledore turned to the four students. "You may go," he said softly to them.
Without hesitation, all four of them stood up from their seats and rushed out of the office. They were quiet as they hurried up a floor and entered an empty classroom. Hermione sank into a chair, and Lucy hopped up the accompanying a desk, while the boys stood in front of them.
"D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?" Harry asked in a whisper.
"No," Ron immediately answered. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the Wizarding world."
"You do believe me, don't you?" Harry asked.
"'Course I do," Ron replied, "but—you must admit it's weird."
"I know it's weird," Harry said. "The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened.… What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know, it rings a sort of bell," Ron said. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once—might've been Bill."
"And what on earth is a Squib?" Harry asked.
Ron let out a snort of laughter, which Hermione quickly shushed. "It's not funny, Ron," she admonished.
"It's Filch, though!" Ron chuckled.
Lucy smirked. "A Squib is someone who was born into a Wizarding family but doesn't have any magical powers," she explained to Harry. "They're kind of the opposite of a Muggleborn. It's really not that funny, but seeing as it's Filch.…" She shrugged.
"If he's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib," Ron continued. "It would explain a lot, like why he hates students so much. He's bitter," he finished, smiling slightly.
A clock started chiming somewhere.
"Midnight," Harry said. "We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else."
~LJ:SD~
A/N: Again, that mention at the beginning that Ginny is becoming distant... I really think that, even though Lucy loves her like a sister, Ginny would be the most upset about Ron not treating her the same as he used to, and so she begins to isolate herself. That diary really becomes her only "friend".
"Squib" was another term that I wasn't sure if Lucy should know or not, because it could be a British slang term, just like Muggle is. Sometimes it really is easier to just say "yep, that's a word that is used in most Wizarding societies." Just another brief note that really doesn't make a difference in this story: according to Pottermore, basically, a Squib is a non-magical person who has a magical parent. In this story (and any other AUs I come up with), that's not true. A Squib can only be born to two magical parents. If one parent is magical and one is not, their children have an equal chance of being magical or non-magical. Any non-magical children would then just be a Muggle like their non-magical parent.
Also, I was reading through this one more time after I'd uploaded it (and before I posted it, obviously) and realized that I had Malfoy saying "Enemies of the Hair, beware!" OF THE HAIR. ENEMIES OF THE HAIR. I need the emoji of the person with the hand over their face. I don't know how many times I've read through this chapter, and I've only just now seen that!
