Chapter 9: Deathday Party
October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and Students. Professor Snape had Harry assist him during Potions club in re-stocking the hospital wing with Pepperup Potion.
Harry was still trying to work out the kinks in his training regiment. He needed to work his extra curriculum activities around his spending time with his friends, homework, Quidditch practise, Potions club and recuperating. He was seriously thinking about investing in a time-turner to help him out a little and get things done. He had just over two years left to prepare himself for Voldemort's inevitable return.
He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to fit it all in next year with having to choose two or more additional classes along with being mentored by Snape. He was confident that the man would see reason and help him out. That wasn't to say that Harry hadn't made sufficient progress on his own.
He was getting better at Arcane magic, Electrokinesis proved to be his strong suit. He still had a lot of trouble with Photokinesis. But, it was a working progress and he would get the hang of it eventually. He was now able to create a golf sized ball of aurora light that hovered in the palm of his hand. As for using wandless magic he could do so effortlessly with most basic first to third year spells. He found that a combination of both non-verbal and wandless magic was more taxing on his body and drained his core quicker to the point he was suffering from magical exhaustion and could no longer use magic until his magical reserves had replenished. His hand to hand muggle combat training was going well. His Occlumency training still needed a some work, and on a few occasions he had tried his hand at using Legilimency on a few test subjects. He would only do a very basic read of someone's emotions and find out what they were thinking at that exact moment of time. Anything more and he had found that he would unintentionally give his unwitting test subjects a headache due to his lack of skill and experience in that area.
Late one, stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning from Quidditch practise. He was on his way to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.
As Harry squelched along the deserted corridor he came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as he was. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath, "…don't fulfil their requirements… half an inch, if that…".
Harry sighed and went over to talk to a troubled Nearly Headless Nick, "Hello, Nick, is something the matter?. You seem troubled. Anything I can do?" He asked.
"Hello, hello," said Nearly Headless Nick, starting and looking round "You also looked troubled," said Nick, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet.
Harry was troubled because of the upcoming events that were about to take place. He had a lot on his mind lately and had no one that he could confide in about it. He shook his head "You know how it is- so what's going with you, Nick?".
"Ah," Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, "a matter of no importance...It's not as though I really wanted to join...Thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfil the requirements'-" In spite of his airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness on his face. "But, you would think, wouldn't you" he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, "that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?".
Harry nodded "I take it that your request to join the Headless Hunt was rejected".
Sir. Nicholas nodded "I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However-".
Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously: "'We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfil our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore'".
Fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away. "Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Harry! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore".
Harry thought for a moment and looked around quickly to make sure they were alone "What if I looked into your little matter, Nick. I might be able to help. Might being the word. We're talking about very advance dark magic, here. It's practically Necromancy. And I admit I'm out of my depth with soul magic, but I'm willing to do my research. So, if I do attempt to behead you...and in the unlikely event I succeed no one can know that it was me".
"You have my solemn word that I will tell no one. If it works I will be forever in your debt," Sir. Headless Nick said sincerely.
Harry nodded "Alright, I'll see what I can do. Not promises, Nick".
Sir. Nicholas gave Harry a meaningful look "I understand, young Potter".
Suddenly there was a high pitched mewling from somewhere near his ankles. He looked down and found himself gazing into a pair of lamp-like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris, the skeletal grey cat
who was used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy in his endless battle against students.
"You'd better get out of here, Harry," said Nick quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood—he's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place—".
"Right," said Harry, as he began backing away from the accusing stare of Mrs. Norris, but not quickly enough. Drawn to the spot by the mysterious power that seemed to connect him with his foul cat, Argus Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry to Harry's right, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.
"Filth!" he shouted, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Harry's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you!-".
Harry interrupted Filch as he took off running as if Voldemort himself was chasing after him leaving behind Filch who was staring at the empty space that he had once occupied "You come back here, Potter!. Just wait until I get a hold of you!" Shouted Filch after Harry.
Harry slid into an empty classroom and with a baited breath waited for Nick to cause a diversion as Filch seemed hell bend on finding him.
Suddenly there was a great bang "Peeves!" Filch roared, "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!" He exploded in rage as his immediate attention was diverted elsewhere.
Harry stuck his head out of the classroom and watched as Filch ran down the corridor towards his office.
"Harry!. Harry! Did it work?" Nearly Headless Nick came gliding towards him.
"Thanks, Nick. What do you do?" He asked knowingly.
"I persuaded Peeves to crash the cabinet right over Filch's office. I thought it might distract him-".
"Yeah, it worked, I don't know what Filch would have done, if he found me".
Harry walked with Nearly Headless Nick, Harry noticed, he was still holding Sir Partick's rejection letter "I wish there was something that I could do for you in the meantime with regards to the Headless Hunt," Harry said.
Nick stopped in his tracks and Harry made sure this time not to walk right through him.
"But there is something you, could do for me," said Sir. Nicholas excitedly.
"Harry, would I be asking too much" He paused for a moment and frowned "No, you wouldn't want to-".
"What is it?" coaxed Harry.
"Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth Deathday," He said drawing himself up and looking dignified
Harry remained silent as Sir. Nick went on.
"I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will becoming from all over the country. It would be an honour if you, attended. Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger would be most welcome, too, of course -but I dare say you'd rather go to the school feast?" He watched Harry on tenterhooks.
"I would like to go to the school feast but then again, there will be others. Where as you only turn five hundred once, Nick. It is an easy choice to make. You're my friend, so therefore, I would be honoured to accept your invitation to your Deathday party. I cannot speak for Hermione or Ron, but will certainly be there".
"My dear boy! Harry Potter, at my deathday party! And"—he hesitated, looking excited—"do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?"
"Of—of course," said Harry.
Nearly Headless Nick beamed at him.
Later on,
"A Deathday party?" said Hermione keenly when Harry had changed at last and joined them in the common room.
"I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those. It'll be fascinating!".
Harry smirked "I'm quite looking forward to it myself. Partying with the dead on Halloween. What more could you want?" He said sounding rather excited about the whole thing as he would make a few changes this time around and bring food with him and place a warming charm on himself.
"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. "Sounds dead depressing to me…"
Harry thought for a moment and replied "Well, I suppose that is one way to look at it, but, I think death is nothing more than an ending to one story and the beginning of a new one. In my opinion death is sort of like a re-birth in a way whether you come back as a ghost or...something else. If they want to celebrate their Deathday than I say good for them".
"Well said, Harry" She said with a small smile.
Rain was still lashing the windows, which were now inky black, but inside all looked bright and cheerful.
Harry had gone to his room and took out his textbook on Secrets of the Darkest Art by Owle Bullock. He used an illusion charm in order to conceal the true nature of the book. He made it appear to be an advanced potions book.
He went back into the common room and sat down in one of the squashy armchair's next to the warm glow of the fire cracking in the fireplace as he looked into Nick's problem. The common room was packed with Gryffindors sitting reading, talking, doing homework or, in the case of Fred and George Weasley, trying to find out what would happen if you fed a Filibuster firework to a salamander.
Ron and Hermione were playing chess. It was amusing to watch as Hermione hated to lose in anything.
He shook his head with a light smile as his attention drifted back to his research. The incantation was virilibus litant mortuis which roughly translated to Mutilate the dead. It was a taboo curse and considered to be very dangerous and advanced as it could irreversibly damage a ghost. His aim had to be spot on or the consequences could be devastating for Nearly Headless Nick.
He had to serious consider whether or not to even attempt the curse. The book had warned him that when a wizard or witch expose themselves to the dark arts, they feel begin to feel cold and powerful. That using dark magic on a regular basis will change the way they feel about people. They sense the feelings they had, the things they loved, but those feelings would have become distant.
He dabbled with dark magic in the room of requirement during his training sessions. But, he also tended to stay away from it. He didn't know if he had the strength to resist the lure if he went delving further than he had done. It would be a constant fight between himself and the darkness he knew resided within him. Dark magic, no matter how minor it maybe can lure those who are already under its thrall to move onto more serious curses and spells that cannot be so easily counter and can cause permanent harm. Was that what was happening to him?. Had he already fallen under its thrall. He wouldn't be surprised if he had. Once he'd that touched that darkness via blood magic. He knew it would never go away. It was permanent like a kind of scar that surrounded his heart that ran deep festering like an open wound on his soul. He already knew that he would never be free of that darkness, it would be with him for the rest of his life. Snape had lost his mother due to his obsession with the dark arts. Had things been different Snape could have very well been his father. Harry shuddered at the thought.
Harry closed the book and sighed leaning forward in the armchair deep in thought about what he was going to do. It wasn't like he could go ask Dumbledore or Snape. Running a hand through his hair. He stood up and went to his dormitory to think in peace.
By the time Hallow arrived, Harry was happily anticipating the Deathday party.
At quarter past five, Harry went to the kitchen and smuggled some pumpkin pasties, a jug of pumpkin juice, three slices of chocolate cake and an assortment of sandwiches for his friends. And made his way down to the dungeons with his arms full.
Thankfully, when he entered the chamber. Nicholas was there decorating alone for the party.
"Oh, Hello Harry. You're here much too early. My guest haven't even arrived yet" Nick told him.
"I know, I wanted to give you, your Deathday present" He said closing the door behind him.
"A gift?" Sir Nicholas questioned with a cheerful smile as Harry set the food down on the table "You really shouldn't have gone to the trouble, Harry, but it is much appreciated. What is it?" He asked excitedly.
Harry took a deep breath his nerves were getting the better of him as he turned away "Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington would you give me the honour in beheading you?".
Sir. Nicholas eyes widened in realisation "Now?. I wasn't expecting it to be so soon. Are you sure about this. You're only in second year, Harry and I know that Dark magic isn't something to be tinkered with especially if you don't know what you're doing. The ramifications that could befall you-".
"Nick, I've dabbled with dark magic before. During the summer just before my second year, I performed a ritual in order to gain peak human condition so that my body would be able to withstand the trials and tribulation I will face in this upcoming war. There is always a debt to be paid in the end when it comes to blood magic" Harry looked down at the palm of his hand and ran a finger lightly across the long pink faded scar "To gain something you must be willing to sacrifice something. I didn't just sacrifice a few drops of my blood that night. I sacrificed my innocence so that I could not only protect myself, but my friends from what is to come. You, Nicholas I consider to be a valued friend of mine. Therefore, I am willing to do the wrong thing for the right reason. Know that you will not be the last. I will do whatever it takes, no matter the personal cost to myself to see this war through to the end. All that I ask from you, is your word that you will not tell a living or dead soul of what was spoken here".
Sir. Nicholas looked at Harry sadly and nodded "I'm truly sorry, for the burdens you're being forced to bear the brunt of. If I could, Harry, I would take your place so that you would not have had to make the sacrifices you've made for this world and your friends. You do know that despite the efforts you have taken upon yourself to protect your them, you cannot save them all".
Harry sighed heavily, "I know…but I can try" He said taking a deep breath and drew his wand "Could you move your head and lower yourself a little. This has to be precise. The consequences if I were to miscalculate my aim would be severe" He warned in all seriousness.
Sir. Nick floated down as he became level with Harry and pulled back his head as far as it would go.
Harry felt a little queasy as he blurted out the cursed words "Virilibus litant mortuis" He brought his wand down like a sword.
And Sir. Nick's head dropped clean off.
Harry felt his vision blur and he collapsed to the ground on one knee. An uncomfortable prickling sensation spread over his body as the dark magic washed over him. Something snapped inside, it was like a dam had burst its banks as untapped magic coursed through him. Everything, went dark for a moment as he heard Sir. Nick call out frantically to him.
Harry felt an emptiness that could never be filled, a void that threatened to swallow him up. He shook his head as he fought back the darkness that slowly ebbed away, but do not leave him. It would never leave him. In the darkness, he had found power. Power that he didn't even know he had. Power that came from corruption, that would lead him to spiral down a path of madness, self destruction and inevitable death if he grew to rely on it and fall deeper under its spell. There was no going back from this.
Harry shook his head and stood up "I'm fine," He replied.
"No, no, you're not, Harry" Sir. Nick said, placing a transparent hand on his shoulder.
"You're right, I'm not, but I will be" He turned around "I'll be back at seven, Nick. I need to go clear my head".
"I'll see you, tonight if you're still feeling up to it".
"I'm a man of my word, Nick" He told him "I'll be here, besides I wouldn't want to miss the priceless look on Sir. Patrick's face now would I?".
Harry dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower and went straight to the boys' dormitory bathroom. He filled the basin with water and splashed himself in the face with it. He looked up into the mirror as beads of water ran down his face. He noticed that his black hair accentuated his pallor complexion. His glinting emerald green eyes were now darker with a thick black ring around his irises. The air around him was thick with a sense of foreboding. He gave off a strange vibe. He could only describe it as the quiet before the storm. A nuclear, wind that you didn't want to be caught in the path of. He knew then that it was darkness that had seeped into his magic. He would have to find a way to hide it and fast. He could probably brush off the noticeable appearance changes as stress and exhaustion. He could use make up to give himself a healthier complexion as Dumbledore and Moody were able to see through glamours. He didn't want to end up stuck in the hospital wing for any length of time if the school matron didn't think he was taking proper care of himself.
At seven o'clock
Harry was rudely woken by Hermione, who was hovering over him.
"Are you alright, Harry. You look terrible".
Harry snorted and sat upright "I've worked myself to exhaustion. I'll take a break from my studies for a bit to recuperate. I'm not a machine you know. Can I borrow your make up. I wouldn't want to be mistaken for a ghost".
Hermione nodded "I told you, so. How many times have I told you to take a break away from your extra curricular studies and get a decent nights sleep. It won't kill you to get some fresh air every now and then. If it wasn't for Quidditch practise, you'd no doubt be stuck inside all day in the library or that hide away of yours. At least I know my limits. If you carry on like this you'll end up in the hospital wing" She lectured him.
Harry rolled his eyes at her when she wasn't looking and forced himself out of bed.
He strolled into the common room.
Ron was waiting for him "Bloody hell, mate, what happened to you?".
Harry sighed "Don't start I've already had an earful from Hermione. I've worked myself into exhaustion. Hermione called it. It was bound to happen. I've been competing with Hermione to be top of our classes, my extra curricular studies, potions club, Quidditch practise and trying to spend time with you, both. I'm surprised I didn't burn out sooner. I guess I've reached my limit. I'm going to take a break from my extra curricular and from potions club for a short while".
"Glad to hear it, mate".
Hermione came back with her make up bag.
Ron bit his lip to stifle a laugh went she began to dab all sorts of girly make up to Harry's face, so that he no longer looked like the living dead.
Afterwards,
Harry, Hermione and Ron made their way down to the dungeons to now Headless Nick's party.
The passageway had been lined with candles. The temperature dropped as they went along and what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard could be heard echoing down the corridor.
Ron winced at the awful noise "Please don't let that be some kind of ghost music".
They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes. "My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome...so pleased you could come…" He said this time directed at Harry as he swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.. It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was dull of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer.
"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested, wanting to warm up his feet.
"Careful not to walk through anyone," said Ron nervously, and they set off around the edge of the dance floor. They passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, a cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. Harry wasn't surprised to see that the Bloody Baron, a gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver bloodstains, was being given a wide berth by the other ghosts.
"Oh, no," said Hermione, stopping abruptly. "Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle—"
"Who?" said Harry as they backtracked quickly.
"She haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor," said Hermione.
"She haunts a toilet?"
"Yes. It's been out-of-order all year 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!" said Ron.
Harry rolled his eyes, "Is that all you ever think about?"
Ron's ears burned a shade of red as he walked over to look at the assortment of goodies that weren't rotten.
Harry didn't know how Ron could stomach food at the moment what with putrid fish, maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mould and, in a grey cake in the shape of a tombstone was next to the food that Harry had brought down earlier from the kitchen.
He shook his head and turned to watch as a rather portly little man with a bowler hat approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.
"Can you taste it if you walk through it?" Harry asked him.
"Almost," said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.
"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavour," said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the maggoty haggis.
Ron with his mouth full of chocolate cake said, "Can we move?. I feel sick,".
They had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in mid-air before them.
"Hello, Peeves," said Harry cautiously.
"Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.
"No thanks," said Hermione.
"Did you hear the rumour?".
"No, what rumour?" Asked Harry.
"That Nearly Headless Nick is now headless. Apparently, Nicholas had gone and found himself a Necromancer that took it upon himself to discrete his corpse as a Death-day present to Nicholas. Course, Nicholas won't tell us who did such a wretched thing or what it cost him in return".
"Cost him?" Harry asked.
"Necromancers are considered to be the worst sort of dark wizard there is. You can't get any darker than that. They're the masters of the darkest of arts. If a Necromancer helped Sir. Nicholas in lose his head. His help would have come with one hefty price" Ron shuddered.
"In the Muggle world, mainly in voodoo cultures. Necromancers are seen in a more sympathetic light, using their powers to commune with the dead, heal others, or use their power over souls for good ends. Perhaps, Nicholas befriended a good Necromancer after all we all have both light and dark inside of. But, it the part we choose to act on is what matters. Believe it or not I like to believe that there is a silver lining in people rather than simply condemn someone without hearing their side of the story. It isn't right to automatically label someone for something that is portrayed as evil".
"Harry's right, Ron. We don't know anything about this person other than what he practises. He could of done out of the goodness of his heart".
Ron scoffed at how ridiculous his friends sounded, "I doubt it".
Peeves nodded in agreement and turned to Hermione "I also heard you, talking about poor Myrtle," said Peeves, his eyes dancing. "Rude you was about poor Myrtle." He took a deep breath and bellowed, "Oy! Myrtle!".
"Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset," Hermione whispered frantically. "I didn't mean it, I don't mind her—er, hello, Myrtle."
The squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face Harry had ever seen, half-hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles.
"What?" she said sulkily.
"How are you, Myrtle?" said Hermione in a falsely bright voice. "It's nice to see you out of the toilet."
Myrtle sniffed.
"Miss Granger was just talking about you—" said Peeves slyly in Myrtle's ear.
"Just saying—saying—how nice you look tonight," said Hermione, glaring at Peeves.
Myrtle eyed Hermione suspiciously.
"You're making fun of me," she said, silver tears welling rapidly in her small, see-through eyes.
"No—honestly—didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" said Hermione, nudging Harry and Ron painfully in the ribs.
"Oh, yeah".
"She did"
"Don't lie to me," Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face, while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder. "D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"
"You've forgotten pimply," Peeves hissed in her ear.
Harry shouted "Enough Peeves!. If you don't leave Myrtle, alone...I'll find out who that Necromancer is from Sir. Nick and I'll set him on you. I'm sure he would give me a fair price because of who I am".
Peeves looked horrified "You wouldn't dare. You're bluffing!".
Harry smirked and raised an eyebrow "I'm a Gryffindor. Can you afford to risk it?".
Peeves dropped the bowl of peanuts on the floor and fled the dungeon in terror wailing about how Potter was going to get Sir. Nick to set the Necromancer on him.
"You wouldn't really, would you?" Ron whispered.
Harry shook his head "No, I was bluffing, but Peeves doesn't need to know that".
Ron grinned relieved "Good one, mate. You just did the impossible and scared Peeves off".
Harry turned to Myrtle "I'm Harry," He winked and flashed her a charming grin "I don't believe we've met. You shouldn't listen to him, why don't you come over and with us. I'd like to get to know you, after all, who knows what will happen with the second upcoming war. You might end up having to share your bathroom with me".
Myrtle perked up as she glided over to Harry as he over his arm to her and they went off together to talk.
Ron was staring at them in shock.
"He's insane".
"He just defused the situation. I owe him one" Said Hermione relieved.
Nearly Headless Nick now drifted toward them through the crowd.
"Enjoying yourselves?"
"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.
A gleeful expression appeared across Sir. Nicholas face "Here we go," He said eagerly.
Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly; Harry 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, and strode over to 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 Nick on the shoulder.
"I heard the most ridiculous rumour that you went to see a Necromancer, this evening".
Harry grinned 'Here it comes,'.
Sir. Nick raised his head high and then pulled it clean off his shoulders "I did, an inexperienced young Necromancer who was kind enough to look into my matter personally and was successful in removing my head clean off in one swoop of his wand" He said proudly with an air of smugness "He asked for nothing in return as it was done out of the kindness of his heart. Despite, what everyone here might think. I was quite fortunate to have come across him in my time upon this earth and consider myself to be eternally in his debt".
Sir. Patrick head tumbled off his shoulders in shock. "By the gods, I didn't think you would have it in you, Nicholas, the gall to approach a Necromancer no less an inexperienced one at that, to have the honour in finally beheading you" He placed a transparent arm around Sir Nicholas "We would be honoured to have you as a member of the Headless Huntsmen, Sir. Nicholas. You have my utmost respect".
Sir. Nick nodded "Your invitation is accepted. I'd like you to meet my friends. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger".
"Live 'uns!" said Sir Patrick, giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again.
The crowd howled with laugher.
"If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!" said Nearly Headless Nick loudly, striding toward the podium and climbing into an icy blue spotlight.
"My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…" He began and finished his speech this time without interruption from Sir. Patrick.
Afterwards, Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunt including Sir. Nick had started a game of Head Hockey and the crowd were turning to watch and cheer.
Harry was very cold by now, "I can't stand much more of this,".
Ron nodded in agreement his teeth chattering, as the orchestra ground back into action and the ghosts swept back onto the dance floor.
"Let's go," Hermione agreed.
They 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 Ron hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall.
And then Harry heard it.
The voice of the thousand year old, Basilisk.
"…rip… tear… kill…".
"You know what, I'm tired, guys. I think I'm just going to call it an early night and meet you up at the tower. You, two go ahead".
"Are you sure, mate?".
Harry nodded and gave a genuine yawn "Yeah, I'm going to head up. I'll see you, later".
Ron and Hermione nodded and proceeded into the great hall.
Harry then bolted upstairs, three steps at a time. He knew that the noise he made the last time had scared the Basilisk off from eating Mrs. Norris. He made sure to stomp his way up the stairs listening carefully as he followed the voice to deserted passage.
He gently eased Mrs. Norris down from the torch bracket and bolted back down the stairs. He busted into the great hall. Scaring the living daylights out of both staff and the students.
