A/N: Sorry for not uploading earlier! I know it's been 2 months, and that's a lot, and I'm truly sorry. On a brighter note, I finished school yesterday so I'll have more time to write. Yay!

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. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny Weasly, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under the vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire. And, Harry, Hermione and Ron discovered that Antonio got a cold quite easily. Antonio's excuse was: 'in Spain it's not that cold, and it doesn't rain this much either'. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds.

It had already been a week since João and Arthur had left, and school was beginning to be boring again.

Antonio, Hermione and Ron were in the common room doing a nasty Potion's essay Snape had given them for homework when Harry got there. He was drenched in mud and rain, so he just made a quick wave on their direction before going into the boys' room to change into something more dry and clean.

He came back to the common room moments later.

"How was training?" Antonio asked with his usual big smile.

"Tiring," Harry groaned as he pulled out his own Potion's essay. "I met Nearly Headless Nick and Filch while coming here."

Hermione, Antonio and Ron paid attention to Harry as he retold his journey from Quidditch training.

"A deathday party?" Hermione said keenly. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those – it'll be fascinating!"

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" Ron said, who was in a grumpy mood because of the Potions essay he was working on. "Sounds dead depressing to me…"

"Well, you don't die every day, do you?" Antonio remarked, answering Ron's question.

"Yeah, I guess… but it's still not the same," Ron muttered.

Rain was still lashing the windows, but inside all looked bright and cheerful. The firelight glowed over the countless squashy armchairs where people sat reading, talking, doing homework, or in the case of Fred and George Weasly, trying to find out what happens when you feed a firework to a salamander. Fred had "rescued" the brilliant orange, fire-dwelling lizard from a are of Magical Creatures class and it was now smouldering gently on a table surrounded by a knot od curious people. Harry was at the point of telling Antonio, Hermione and Ron about Filch and the Kwikspell course when the salamander suddenly whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room. The sight of Percy bellowing himself hoarse at Fred and George, the spectacular display of tangerine stars showering from the salamander's mouth, and its scape into the fire, with accompanying explosions, drove both Filch and the Kwikspell envelope from Harry's mind.

By the time Halloween arrived, Harry was regretting his rash promise to go to the deathday party. The rest of the school was happily anticipating their Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumours that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

"A promise is a promise," Hermione reminded Harry bossily. "You said you'd go to the deathday party."

So at seven o'clock, Harry, Hermione, Antonio and Ron walked straight past the doorway to the packed Great Hall, which was glittering invitingly with gold plates and candles, and directed their steps instead toward the dungeons.

"Ugh… It smelled so good…" Antonio groaned while climbing down the stairs.

The others continued, silently agreeing with him.

The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party had been lined with candles, too, 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. The temperature dropped with every step they took. As Harry shivered and drew his robes tightly around him, he heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered. 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 swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full 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.

Suddenly, a ghost approached them, looked at each of them cautiously, and stopped at Antonio.

"Do I know you?" The ghost asked.

Antonio looked to be nervous. He knew this ghost, but that was when the ghost was still alive a few hundred years ago and when Antonio didn't look like… a kid.

"No. I don't think so," Antonio answered respectfully.

The ghost eyed him up and down. "You look a lot like one of my old friends, but younger." His face suddenly sported a smile as he said, "you must be his great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson!"

The ghost and Antonio shook hands while Antonio muttered "Sure…"

"Well it was nice to meet you, but I have a friend waiting for me. Goodbye!" The ghost said cheerfully.

"Adios!" Antonio answered.

Harry, Hermione and Ron, who had been quiet while the ghost and their friend talked, sent questioning glances towards Antonio. Antonio was oblivious as always, so he ignored them.

They continued walking while trying to dodge all the ghosts. It was quite a nasty feeling to go through a ghost.

"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!" Ron exclaimed.

On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. They approached it eagerly but the next they stopped in their tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheeses covered in furry green mold.

"This looks like the kind of food that Arthur would make, but better," Antonio said with a small smirk.

In pride of 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

"A great year for Spain, that one," Antonio muttered so no one could hear while he smiled a little; although the smell of the rotting food quickly took off his smile.

Harry watched, amazed, as a portly ghost 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 way.

"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 putrid haggis.

"Can we move? I feel sick," Ron said.

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," Harry said cautiously.

Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow tie, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face,

"Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.

"No thanks," Hermione said.

"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, half-hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles.

"What?" She asked sulkily.

"How are you, Myrtle?" Hermione asked in a falsely bright voice. "It's nice to see you out of the toilet."

Myrtle sniffed.

"Miss granger was just talking about you-" Peeves said slyly in Myrtle's ear. "Just saying-"

"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?" Hermione said, nudging Antonio, Harry and Ron painfully in the ribs.

"Oh, yeah-"

"She did-"

Antoni just looked confusedly at Hermione.

"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.

Moaning Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and fled from the dungeon. Peeves shot after her, pelting her with moldy peanuts, yelling, "Pimply! Pimply!"

"Oh, dear," Hermione said sadly.

Nearly Headless Nick 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.

"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; Harry, Antonio, Hermione and 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 Headless Nick on the shoulder.

"Welcome, Patrick," said Nick stiffly.

"Live uns!" said Sir Patrick, spotting Antonio, Harry, Hermione and Ron 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 Sit Patrick's head form the floor. "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say -look at the fellow-"

"I think," said Harry hurriedly, at a meaningful look from Nick, "Nick's very -frightening and- er-"

"Ha!" yelled Sir Patrick's head.

"Bet he asked you to say that!"

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…"

But nobody heard much more. Sir Patrick and the rest of the Hunt had just started a game of Head Hockey and the crowd were 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.

"I can't stand much more of this," Ron muttered, his teeth chattering, as the orchestra ground back into action and the ghosts swept back onto the dance floor.

"Let's go," Harry agreed.

Meanwhile Antonio was shaking and chattering his teeth the worst, because, as he said, 'at Spain it isn't this cold'.

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 towards the steps to the entrance hall.

And then Harry heard it.

"… rip… tear… kill…"

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in Lockhart's office.

He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

"Harry, what're you-?" Hermione started.

"It's that voice again -shut up a minute-"

"… soo hungry… for so long…"

"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and Ron and Hermione froze, watching him, while Antonio did as Harry was doing.

"… kill… time to kill…"

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away- moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped Harry as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?

"This way," he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Hermione, Antonio and Ron clattering behind him.

"Harry what're we-"

"SHH!"

Harry strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: "… I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!"

His stomach lurched-

"It's going to kill someone!" he shouted, and ignoring Tonio's, Ron's and Hermione's bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps- Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Antonio, Hermione and Ron panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

Harry, what was that all about?" Ron asked, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything…"

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

"Look!"

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"What's that thing- hanging underneath?" Ron asked, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, they almost slipped- there was a large puddle of water on the floor. They inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it.

"Mrs. Norris…" Antonio whispered with wide eyes.

Hermione, Harry and Ron leapt backward with a splash.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, they didn't move. The Ron said, "Let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we try and help-" Harry began awkwardly.

"Trust me," Ron said. "We don't want to be found here"

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in font spotted the hanging cat. Antonio, Harry, Hermione and Ron stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

"What's going on here? What's going on?"

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" He shrieked. And his popping eyes fell on Antonio, who was still standing next to Mrs. Norris.

"You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll-"

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a few other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Hermione, Ron and Antonio and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You too, Mr. Fernández, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasly."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster -just upstairs- please feel free-"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professor McGonagall and Snape.

A/N: I hope you liked this chapter and the turn of events, and let's not forget that mini cliffhanger! Please review, favorite and follow. Until next time!