Chapter Ten
Quidditch Practice Incident, Deathday Parties, and Writing on the Wall
Over the next few days I found myself actively avoiding any sign of Lockhart, outside of his normal class times. The twins howled in laughter when I managed to tell them about Lockhart's class, and apparently theirs wasn't much better. Before I knew it Quidditch season was arriving and the boys were occupied more frequently outside our usual potions class.
I frequented the stands during the practice watching them fly and making notes in my journal to help me with my own flying lessons. I had yet to start but I needed to get a move on it as it would take more and more practice to get to the point where I was actually ready to fly. Ron, Harry, Hermione and I sat upon the stands when we noticed that Harry and the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team coming on to the field.
"Aren't you finished yet?" Ron asked from his spot.
"Haven't started yet," Harry said grumpily.
Fred and George came and gave me a hug and stole some of the toast and fruit I had brought from the Great Hall. With a quick grin in thanks, they kicked off the ground and began soaring around the stadium at full speed. I was watching the pair zoom around with Harry when I noticed the familiar emerald green robes sauntering onto the field.
I gathered my things and headed the field, wedging myself between the twins as Oliver Wood approached the Slytherin Quidditch Captain.
"Flint! This is our practice time! You can clear off now!" Oliver bellowed.
Flint, or rather Marcus Flint was the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. He was larger than Wood, figure-wise and towered over him. He looked at all of us, before his gaze settled on me.
"Plenty of room for all of us, Wood." He said pleasantly.
My skin crawled under his unwavering gaze. Although Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were coming up to the altercation, his gaze didn't divert.
"I booked the field," Oliver spat.
Fred noticed Flint's interest and pulled me behind himself and George, glaring warningly at the Slytherin.
"Ah, but I've a specially signed note from Professor Snape."
He passed a piece of parchment to Oliver. I felt his gaze even with the twins between us as a barrier, it made my skin crawl uneasily. Instead I managed to catch a glimpse of the rest of the Slytherin team standing behind Flint looking as smug as ever.
"I, Professor Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field, owing to the need to train their new Seeker."
Oliver looked up from the note in disbelief.
"You've got a new Seeker, who?"
From behind six large figures came a seventh, smaller boy, with a giant smirk all over his pale pointed face.
Draco Malfoy.
He briefly caught sight of me, and I could see slight recognition on his face and a miniscule nod in my direction.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred asked, dislike evident in his tone.
"Funny you should mention Draco's father, he made a generous gift to the Slytherin Team.
All seven of them held brand new broomsticks. Nimbus Two-Thousand and Ones gleamed under the morning sun. Malfoy's face smug look had me wanting to smack him again. Ron and Hermione finally joined the party. I couldn't hear what was being said but the Slytherin Team was howling with laughter.
"At least no one on Gryffindor Team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent," Hermione retorted.
The smug look on Malfoy's face, flickered angrily.
"No one asked for your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood." He spat.
Whatever rise Malfoy wanted to get out of us with that slur, he got it. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George from jumping on him. Alicia behind me was screeching in angry horror. I saw Ron reach for his wand, there was a flash and bang, and Ron then went reeling onto the grass.
"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" Hermione squealed.
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he gave a mighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth and onto his lap. Internally I cringed, the broken wand had back-fired the spell he meant for Malfoy.
The Slytherin Team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled over, using his broomstick for support, and Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors were gathered around, and sadly no one wanted to touch Ron.
"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest." Harry resolved.
Harry and Hermione pulled up Ron by his arms, then they supported Ron out of the stadium and across the grounds to the edge of the forest to Hagrid's hut. I turned towards Fred and George who were both glaring at the group of howling Slytherin murderously. Poking them both in the ribs their gaze turned to me.
"We have Quidditch games coming up, and you're our Beaters. We need you. Plot revenge later." I said simply.
Although they were still upset with the green robed Slytherin, they wore a pair of mischievous smirks. And suddenly I didn't envy the Slytherin for whatever devious plans they were concocting.
"We're become such a bad influence." Fred said to George.
"But I love her line of logic," George added.
I rolled my eyes but allowed the twins to drag me back up to the castle.
October finally arrived and Harry and Ron finally served their detention from their grand entrance. Ron had to polish all the trophies in the trophy room without magic, and Harry was stuck serving with Lockhart signing fan-mail. I daresay Harry got the worst of the two punishment. I couldn't stand to be in the room with that phony professor for even his classroom time, to spend time outside of class time would be cruel and unusual punishment.
Harry had confided in me that he had heard an icy, cold-blooded, blood-thirsty voice. It was strange because the ones in the room where he and Lockhart. At first my mind wandered to the Hogwarts ghosts playing a prank as Halloween was drawing near, but even Peeves wasn't that creative. He preferred to have people know it was him who did it. He wasn't all for subtly. It made my skin crawl thinking about it.
I was spending time in the Gryffindor Common Room sitting in a squish plush armchair. Ron was on the floor working on his potions homework.
"A deathday party? I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those – it'll be fascinating!" Hermione gushed excitedly.
"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died? Ron asked grumpily.
"It's actually a pretty common tradition, Ron," I offered from my seat.
Ron gave me a withering look before returning to his homework. Rain was lashing at the windows but the common room was warm and cheerful. I peered over at Fred and George, they had 'rescued' a brilliantly orange fire-dwelling lizard from their Care of Magical Creature's class. Currently it was smoldering on a table surrounded by curious onlookers. Suddenly, the salamander whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly around the room. The spray was rather pretty as tangerine stars came from the salamander's mouth. Percy was bellowing himself hoarse at Fred and George as the salamander escaped into the fire.
I wasn't entirely sure how, but on the evening of Halloween at seven, I found myself with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Instead of going to the awesome feast in the Great Hall, we were directing our steps to the dungeons. The passageways leading to the party had been lined with candles, but the effect was far from cheerful. The temperature dropped as we went further and further, I imagined it wouldn't be any warmer as ghosts tend to get the areas around them cold and chilled. As we turned the corner we saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.
"My dear friends," He said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome…"
He swept off his plumed hat and bowed us inside. It was odd especially as the ghost was relatively upbeat. Inside was incredible, and not something you'd soon forget. The dungeon was fully of eerie pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting amongst a crowded dancefloor. There were some waltzing to the dreadful sound of the thirty musical saws, played by and orchestra on a raised platform. It raised the hairs on the back of my neck, and shivers down my spine. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight blue with a thousand black candles. I shivered, cold, it was like stepping into a freezer, our breath in clouds in front of us.
"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested.
"Careful not to walk through anyone," Ron said nervously.
I heard of people who'd walked through ghosts, it was an unpleasant experience. We set off around the edge of the dance floor. We passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, talking with a knight with an arrow sticking out his forehead. I wasn't surprised that the Blood Baron was given a wide berth by the other ghosts. A part of me felt sad for him, I had read about the tale of the Bloody Baron in one of the Hogwarts Library, it was a heart wrenching tale.
"Look, food!" Ron exclaimed.
Of course Ronald would be thinking with his stomach. As we approached the table, my stomach lurched and churned uncomfortably at the smell. I smelled it before I saw it. 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 cheese covered in furry green mold, and an enormous cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words:
SIR NICHOLAS DE MIMSY-PORPINGTON
DIED 31 OCTOBER, 1492
With mild fascination we watched a portly ghost approach the table, crouched low, walked through it with a mouth so wide it passed through one of the stinking salmon.
"Can you taste it if you walk through it?" Harry asked.
"Almost," the ghost said sadly and drifted away.
Hermione pinched her nose shut and leaned closer to look at the putrid haggis.
"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor."
I grimaced slightly.
"Delightful," I murmured.
"Can we move? I feel sick." Ron moaned.
We barely turned when a little man swooped from the table in front of us.
"Hello Peeves," Harry said cautiously.
Peeves was the resident poltergeist. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, and unsightly bowtie, and a wicked little grin upon his face. He was always to be treated with caution.
"Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.
"No thanks," Hermione replied.
Peeves was usually quite the troublemaker, and generally loved picking on anyone. Even other specters. The Bloody Baron is really the only one he listened to, but being friends with the twins had its benefits. He rarely ever spoke with or teased me, and if he did speak with me it was pleasant for the most part. Snapping out of my own spacing out I realized now that Peeves was chasing after Moaning Myrtle, pelting her with molding peanuts. Nearly Headless Nick floated over to our group.
"Enjoying yourselves?"
We all nodded enthusiastically.
"Not a bad turnout," Nick said proudly. "The Wailing Widow came all the way 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 looked around the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excited anticipation as a hunting horn sounded.
"Oh, here we go," Nearly Headless Nick said bitterly.
Then the dungeon wall burst forth a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by headless horsemen. The assembly of specters clapped wildly. 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 and was blowing the hunting horn. The man, dismounted the horse, and if I was honest, the ghost horse unsettled me greatly.
"Nick! How are you? Head still hanging in there?" he chortled.
Already the man irritated me, and from the look on Nick's face, he was not amused either. Turning out the conversation I glanced around. Everyone, save for the Bloody Baron, looked upon the headless man in awe and rapture. The Bloody Baron and I's eyes met, and he gave me a soft smile and nodded in my direction, before his attention was pulled elsewhere.
The Baron and I had a few conversations over the summer, mostly him catching me in the library reading. Although his appearance was ghastly and intimidating, he was actually very pleasant to speak with. He was very intelligent and well spoken, and didn't seem to outwardly care that I wasn't in his house. He did however, seem rather surprised when I told him I knew of his backstory. I imagine most people didn't bother, but our conversations were pleasant. By now I was very cold and very hungry. My body shivered involuntarily. I rubbed my arms to try to create friction, and it did work a little but not much.
"I can't stand much more of this," Ron muttered.
"Let's go," Harry agreed.
We then all eased our way towards the door, nodding a beaming at any of the specters who seemed to have noticed us. A minute later, we were hurrying up the passageway. Harry suddenly cheered as though hearing something. Before I could ask what it was, an icy chill went down my back as though someone had poured icy water over my head and down my spine. The hair on the back of my neck stood and I felt uneasy. Harry then bolted, we sprinted after him. Up the stairs, past the main babble of the Great Hall. We went up the staircase to the first floor, then the second. Until we were in a deserted corridor.
"Harry, what was that all about?" Ron gasped, wiping sweat from his face. "I couldn't hear anything…"
Hermione gasped and pointed down the corridor. Something was shining on the wall ahead. Rust and dirt hit my nose. It was a foot high and the words were written on the wall, between two windows.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
I nearly slipped as I tried to get further away and the trio crept closer. There was a large puddle of water on the ground. And I recognized the figure hanging from the torch bracket. It was Mrs. Norris was hanging by her tail, stiff as a board, eyes wide and unseeing. The warmth of my blood seemed stolen from me, I backed away until my back was against the wall. Soon the halls filled with other students as the Halloween Feast had ended.
"Enemies of the heir beware! You'll be next Mudbloods!"
It was Draco Malfoy who had shouted. He was actually grinning at the gristly sight of the hanging cat. My stomach churned.