A/N: Yay. Everyone is amazing. Truly amazing.
A/N: I forgot to say it last chapter (may have been because I was half asleep) but I would like to thank Kimberly. for her review. It was sent via PM because she also helped me translate some Portuguese mistakes that I had made. She is truly amazing and if there are any more Portuguese translations in this story (even in later years) could you thank her for the help. 'Cause she's amazing.
Dedications: Chapter belongs too: 10th Squad 3rd Seat, KingdomHeartsNerd and Fan of Fics.
Responses: 10th Squad 3rd Seat: Her magic is growing stronger each and every day.
Fan of Fics: Hi, my grandfather is doing better now. He came home the same day they rushed him in the pressure is going down behind his eye, thank god. As for Phoebe playing Quidditch it shouldn't really affect her energy stability since she doesn't have to use Magic to compete. Her energy levels are high it is only when she is using magic and her powers is when she should watch herself.
Harry Potter: The Dark Lord's Downfall
Summary: For ten years she was kept a secret, now it's time for the Wizarding world to finally meet Phoebe, as she sets out to prove that not all Malfoy's support the Dark Lord.
The rest of the week passed without incident, at least on Phoebe's part it did, and soon Saturday was dawning bright and early.
Phoebe groaned as she felt a pair of hands seize her shoulder and shake her roughly from her sleep "Go away." she complained pulling the comforter high over her body.
"Phoebe," Katie Bell whispered quietly as not to wake the rest of the second year Gryffindor's "Come on, Pheebs. Wake up."
"What's the matter?"
"Quidditch Practice." Katie answered.
It had been a few days since the positions of the new Gryffindor Quidditch positions had been posted and Phoebe was well surprised to see that she had been made Chaser -replacing Angelina Johnson-. It had been her dream position since she had found out that her grandfather had played Chaser for the Quidditch team: the Salem Warriors.
Cracking open one of her eyes Phoebe glanced out of the window and spotted the faint pink and gold sky laying beyond the thin mist of the morning air "It's the crack of dawn." she complained.
"Oliver wants to start early," Katie answered. "Come on, just get dressed, grab your broom and meet us downstairs."
With a heavy sigh Phoebe pushed back her blankets and rolled out of bed, she shivered as her feet hit the wooden paneled floor of her dorm, shuffled over to the bathroom door and disappeared beyond it to shower and change.
Katie nodded as she left the second year dorms confident that Phoebe would get dressed and not go back to sleep.
Once she had showered, Phoebe changed into her brand new scarlet Quidditch robes, grabbed her broomstick that her grandfather had given her for her Birthday, scribbled out a note for Hermione -and James- and went down the spiral staircase into the common room, meeting the rest of the team in the common room.
~*Phoebe*~
"Any particular reason you wanted us to practice at Dawn?" Phoebe asked as she walked alongside Oliver as he led them through the enclosed courtyard towards the front lawn.
"I spent most of the summer devising a whole new Quidditch programme. We're going to train earlier, harder and longer. None of the other teams have started training yet, we're going to be the first off the mark this year..."
As the Gryffindor team stepped out onto the green, Oliver noticed that Marcus Flint and the Slytherin team were trudging towards them. "Where do you think you're going, Flint?" Oliver asked.
"Quidditch practice," Flint answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And clearly from what they were wearing, it was the most obviously thing in the world.
"I've book the pitch for Gryffindor today," Oliver responded as the two teams stopped in front of one another.
"Ah," said Flint "but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape."
He held up a roll of parchment which Oliver took, unrolled and read it out loud, as Phoebe peered over his arm at the small curved writing. "I, Professor Severus Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker."
A small frown slipped onto Phoebe's face as she turned to glance at Harry, and then back at the Slytherin team "You've got a new Seeker? What happened to Higgs?"
"You're not the only team that makes replacements, Blackheart." Flint sneered.
"Yeah. But Higgs's father also can't afford to buy the entire team new broomsticks, can he?" Phoebe bit back coolly "It's pretty obvious who your new Seeker is."
The Slytherin's smirked and from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.
"You're too good for your own good, Blackheart!" the blonde drawled.
"And you're just a spoilt little dragon who has nothing better to do that attempt to torment those you consider beneath you!" Phoebe hissed.
Draco smirked again and Phoebe had the overwhelming urge to wipe it from his face. But she didn't, instead she said "Nimbus 2001's? You really think they are going to help you win in next month's game?"
"Yeah," Draco nodded "Potter will never be able to out fly me on his downgraded broomstick."
Phoebe scoffed "Maybe not. But it's not about how fast you fly; it's about the skill you have to catch the Snitch. Unfortunately for you, you have neither."
The Gryffindor's sniggered as Draco's glare hardened. "What are you riding? A Comet 360?"
The Slytherin's smirked.
"Oh, sweetheart," Phoebe tutted while shaking her head "My broom's not even sold in the United Kingdom yet. And it could out fly both you and Harry in under a second."
Draco stared speechless.
Phoebe grinned at the lack of a response.
"There is only one broom that I have heard of that is faster than a Nimbus 2001," Adrian Pucey commented causing Phoebe to glance in his direction "and that's the Chocolate Swiss."
His team frowned at him.
"The Salem Warriors have just invested in them for the next World Cup," Adrian answered, before turning back to Phoebe "The question remains: How did you manage to get one? They were designed for Professional Quidditch players."
The young Gryffindor shrugged "I guess when you're related to an ex-Professional Quidditch player you get free merchandise once in a while. My grandfather was sent a Chocolate Swiss and he gave it to me for my birthday."
If possible the Slytherin's looked impressed.
"This proves nothing..." Draco sneered obviously peeved.
Hermione -who had arrived with Ron and James- spoke "It proves everything. It proves that no one on the Gryffindor team had buy their way in. They got their own pure talent"
Time seemed to freeze as Draco turned slowly towards Hermione the smug look on his face flickered. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.
At once the atmosphere changed. Flint dived in front of Malfoy to prevent Fred and George from attacking him, Alicia screeched "How dare you!" at the top of her voice, Ron plunged his hand into his robes and grasped his wand and Phoebe's eyes flashed a cobalt blue as the wind picked up violently.
"You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" Ron yelled pointing his wand furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face.
There was a loud bang and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards.
"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto the lawn.
While the Gryffindor's gathered around Ron, the Slytherin team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up; hanging on to his new broomstick for support and Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist.
Ron burped up another slug as the Gryffindor's backed away from him. It seemed nobody wanted to touch him.
"Wow, can you turn him around, Harry?" Colin Creevey asked as he joined his house team, and snapped a picture.
"No Colin, get out of the way!" Harry answered helping Ron to his feet along with Hermione "Let's take him to Hagrid's; he'll know what to do."
Hermione nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms. Supporting Ron between them both Harry and Hermione rushed out onto the grounds and towards Hagrid's hut.
Phoebe, meanwhile, stayed behind with her team and rounded on Malfoy who was still on all fours. "Hey, Malfoy!" she called. Draco looked up. "Laugh at this -" and whipping out her wand Phoebe yelled "Reducto! Furnunculus!"
There was a split second pause as both teams watched the two curses collide with Malfoy, knock him backwards through the air and the moment he landed the Gryffindor's howled with laughter as painful looking boils sprouted all over the blonde's face.
"Have fun, pretty boy." Phoebe smirked before walking off with the rest of the Gryffindor team.
Leaving the Slytherin's and Draco looking bewildered.
~*Phoebe*~
Later that evening Phoebe found herself sitting in the Headmaster's office. Serefina was also present and Phoebe explained that while she was finding it difficult to not use her magic, her emotions were being kept under control.
"We know it is difficult, Phoebe." Serefina had said "But it has been explained to your professors that they must grant you some leeway when it comes to practical lessons."
Phoebe nodded "I understand that, really I do, but it's not the classes I am worried about. It's outside of class."
"Magic is not permitted to be used in the corridors," McGonagall answered.
"With all due respect Professors, just because it is not permitted, doesn't mean that it doesn't happen." Phoebe replied "We are still kids, and fights are going to break out, the only problem with being in a Magical world is that fights between Witches and Wizards are usually magically based."
Serefina touched her Goddaughter's shoulder affectionately "That is where you must be the bigger person, Phoebe. Walk away from a fight if you have too, at least until you are well enough to use your magic to its fullest context."
"Serefina!" McGonagall scolded.
Phoebe giggled into her hands.
"I am sure that your friends will not allow any harm to come to you," Dumbledore spoke up, smiling fondly at the two women present "you have told them of your problem, I'm sure?"
"They know that my Magical core has been affected by Dark Magic." Phoebe answered "But they do not know about my Elemental core. I do not want them to know, because I don't want them to turn against me."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully "I for one do not believe that they will turn against you, but the choice is yours, my dear child."
"Is that all?"
"Just one more thing," Serefina spoke producing two vials of clear liquid. "Catrin sent these over from the Elemental Academy. She says that you must take them twice a day. Once before bed and one before breakfast."
"What are they?"
"They will help strengthen your cores." Serefina answered handing the vials over.
Phoebe took them and placed them carefully in her pocket. "Thank you." she nodded "I will take one as soon as I get back to the Common room."
"Good girl." Serefina smiled as she hugged her Goddaughter. "Goodnight Pheebs."
"Good night Miss Blackheart." Dumbledore and McGonagall wished her.
Phoebe smiled at the three of them "Goodnight Professors."
And she left the office.
On her way back to the Gryffindor Tower Phoebe passed the Astronomy Tower and paused at the slight sound coming from the top of the spiral staircase. Scolding herself on being so curious the young Gryffindor climbed the stone steps and came upon a surprising sight.
Terence Higgs was pacing angrily.
"What are you doing?" Phoebe asked startling the Slytherin.
Higgs jumped, cursed violently and whirled around before realizing it was Phoebe "What do you want, Gryffindor?" he asked.
"Just wondering who would be up here at this time of the night."
"Why are you up here at this time of the night?" Higgs challenged.
Phoebe rolled her eyes "I told you, I was wondering who was up here."
"I heard you the first time," Higgs retorted "But you would have had to be out of your Tower to come up here, or did you get a strange 'feeling' that someone was out after hours and decided to come investigate."
"Who do you think I am - Spiderman?" Phoebe asked sarcastically.
Higgs looked confused at the reference.
"Never mind. So I saw that Lucius Malfoy bought the Slytherin Quidditch team's new broomsticks, and I'm going to take a wild guess and say you're not too happy about it."
"Broomsticks! Prudent little Ferret gets his father to buy broomsticks, and I get thrown out like yesterday's trash!" Higgs hissed his hands curling angrily into fists.
"You do realize that Malfoy doesn't care about the game, right?" Phoebe asked. Higgs looked up at her. "Malfoy only cares about having the same position as Harry so that he can torment him out on the field. He'll fail to catch the Snitch and cost Slytherin the game and then Flint will realize the mistake he made in replacing you. Don't worry about it."
She turned to leave.
"Why do you care?" Higgs stopped her.
Phoebe paused as she turned back, shrugged and said "I don't."
~*Phoebe*~
Soon October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the matron, was kept busy by a sudden spat of colds among the staff and students. The worst case was Sarah-May who suffered terribly with Asthma and was confined to her bed for most of the week leading up to Halloween, when the cold water hit the Hufflepuff always found it difficult to breathe in as the cold air affected the back of her throat and chest.
Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end, the lake rose, the flowerbeds turned into muddy streams and the pumpkins in Hagrid's garden swelled to the size of garden sheds.
Oliver Woods's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was now dampened, which was why Harry and Phoebe was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to the Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and trailing mud through the halls.
"This is unbe...livable..." Phoebe shivered her teeth chattering as her robes clung to her and water dripped from her ponytail "Wh-why does Oliver ma-make us p-p-practice in th-this?"
"I don't know," Harry answered although he too was shivering; he seemed to be able to control it better than Phoebe. "He's just driven."
"D-driven? He's obsessed!"
Harry shrugged as they rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of Needless Headless Nick staring morosely out of the window, he was muttering under his breath and the two second years could vaguely make out what he was saying. "...don't fulfill their requirements...half an inch, if that..."
"Hello Nick," Phoebe said cheerfully.
"Hello, hello," Nick said starting and looking around. He wore a dashing, plumed hat on his long curly hair, and a tunic with a ruff, which concealed the fact that his neck was almost completely severed. He was pale as smoke, and the friends could see right through him to the dark sky and torrential rain outside.
Nick smiled when he saw that it had been Phoebe who had spoken. "Ah, Phoebe, how are you feeling?" he asked, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet.
"I feel fine," Phoebe smiled "Madam Pomfrey has been fully briefed on what is needed of me to pull myself back. How are you?"
"I've been better."
"What do you mean? Is everything all right?"
"Ah, a matter of no importance...it's not as though I really wanted to join...thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfill the requirements'."
Harry looked lost and confused. But Phoebe seemed to understand.
"Oh, Nick, I'm sorry to hear they turned you down again."
"But you would think, wouldn't you," Nick erupted "that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"
"Of course!" Phoebe exclaimed. Harry continued to look confused.
"What do you think, young Potter?" Nick asked.
Harry turned to Phoebe.
Phoebe nodded "Just agree with him."
"Oh - yes," said Harry.
"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..." he pulled out the letter again, shook it open and read furiously.
"We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted completely 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 fulfill out requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore."
Still fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away.
"Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore."
Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths and then said "So - where have you two come from?"
Harry opened his mouth to respond but was cut off when a high-pitched mewing 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.
"Uh-oh," Phoebe whispered "We better get out of here, Harry. Filch isn't going to be happy with us if we're caught dripping water and mud all over the place."
Nick nodded "She's right. He's also got a cold and some third-years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in Dungeon five; he's been cleaning all morning."
"Right," said Harry, grabbing Phoebe's hand and backing away from the accusing stare of Mrs. Norris, but they were not quick 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 the 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 as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Harry and Phoebe's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me!"
Exchanging downhearted looks Harry and Phoebe said a gloomy goodbye to Nick and followed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints on the floor.
No student at Hogwarts had ever been in Filch's office before; it was a place that they avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls and from their labels it was easy to see that they contained details on every student that Filch had ever punished. Fred and George had an entire draw to themselves. A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.
Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around looking for parchment.
"Dung," he muttered furiously, "great sizzling dragon bogies...frog brains...rat intestines...I've had enough of it...make an example...where's the form...yes..."
He retrieved a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched it out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the ink pot.
"Name...Harry Potter. Crime..."
"It was only a bit of mud!" Phoebe exclaimed.
"It's only mud to you, but to me it's an extra hour scrubbing!" shouted Filch "Now shut up Blackheart, I will fill out your form next! Crime...befouling the caste...Suggested sentence..."
Filch squinted unpleasantly at Harry and Phoebe, who waited with bated breaths for sentencing to be passed.
But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! On the ceiling of the office, this made the oil lamp rattle and Phoebe to yelp in surprise.
"PEEVES!" Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport of rage "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"
And without a backwards glance at the two second year Gryffindor's, Filch ran flat-footed from the office, Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him.
Peeves was the school poltergeist, a grinning, airborne menace who lived to cause havoc and distress. No student liked Peeves that much, but right now Phoebe couldn't help but feel a little grateful towards him for his impeccable timing.
"Should we leave?" Phoebe asked looking longingly at the door "I want to get out of these clothes. I'm freezing and my robes are starting to get heavy."
"I think we should wait," Harry answered "We may be in more trouble if he comes back and we're not here."
"Haaarrrrrrrryyyyyyyy!" Phoebe whined.
Harry rolled his eyes and sank into a moth-eaten chair next to the desk. There was only one thing on it apart from his half-completed form: a large, glossy, purple envelope with silver lettering on the front. With a quick glance at the door to check that Filch wasn't on his way back, and a quick glance at Phoebe who was sifting through the draw labelled 'Fred and George', Harry picked up the envelope and read:
KWIKSPELL
A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic.
"Hey, Pheebs? What's a Kwikspell?" Harry asked looking up at his friend.
Phoebe paused in her reading of the Weasley twins file and frowned "It's a course designed to help adult witches and wizards brush up on their magical skills. Why?"
"Filch has a letter from them."
Abandoning the files Phoebe hurried towards Harry and read the letter from over his shoulder.
Feel out of step in the world of modern magic? Find yourself making excuses not to perform simple spells? Ever been taunted for you woeful wand work? There is an answer! Kwikspell is an all-new, fail-safe, quick-result, easy-learn course. Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefitted from the Kwikspell method!
Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes:
"I had no memory of incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now after a Kwikspell course, I am the centre of attention at parties and friends beg for the recipe of my Scintillation Solution!"
Warlock D. J. Prod of Didsbuy says:
"My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!"
Phoebe shook her head "It's not even that good. I know friends who have sent away from this course and it's turned out to be nothing like the advertisements. But it's a curious wonder as to why Filch has one; I always thought he was a Squib."
"A what?" Harry frowned.
"A Squib. Born to magical parents, but has no magic of their own." Phoebe answered.
Harry nodded, still a little unsure.
Shuffling outside the door alerted the two friends to the fact that Filch was coming back. Stuffing the letter back into its envelope, Harry threw it back onto the desk just as the door opened.
Filch was looking triumphant.
"That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable!" he was saying gleefully to Mrs Norris "We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet."
His eyes fell on Phoebe and Harry and then darted to the Kwikspell envelope which lay on the desk.
Filch's pasty face went brick red, Phoebe felt Harry tense beside her and locked her hand with his. Filch hobbled across to his desk, snatched up the envelope and threw it into a drawer.
"Have you - did you read -?" he spluttered.
"No!" Phoebe answered.
Filch's knobbly hands were twisting together.
"If I thought you'd read my private...not that it's mine...for a friend...but that as it may...however..."
Phoebe swallowed nervously; she had never seen Filch look so mad. His eyes were popping, a tic was going on in one of his pouchy cheeks and the tartan scarf didn't help.
"Very well...go...and don't breathe a word...not that...however, if you didn't read...go now, I have to write up Peeves' report...go..."
Without wasting any time, Phoebe tugged at Harry's hand and pulled him from the office, up the corridor and back upstairs. To escape from Filch's office without punishment was probably some kind of school record.
"Harry! Phoebe! Did it work?"
Nearly Headless Nick came gliding out of a classroom. Behind him, Phoebe could see the wreckage of a large black and gold cabinet which appeared to have been dropped from a great height.
"I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's office," said Nick eagerly "Thought it might distract him -"
"Was that you?" said Harry gratefully "Yeah, it worked, we didn't get detention. Thanks Nick!"
The three of them set off up the corridor together. Nearly Headless Nick, Phoebe noticed, was still holding Sir Patrick's rejection letter.
"I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt," she said causing Nick to stop in his tracks and Harry to walk straight through him. The Elemental giggled at the uncomfortable look on Harry's face as he wheeled around to glare at her for making the ghost stop dead in front of him.
"But there is something you could do for me," said Nick, excitedly "Phoebe - would I be asking too much - but no, you wouldn't want -"
"What is it?" Phoebe asked.
"Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth death day," said Nick, drawing himself up and looking dignified. "I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an honour if you would attend. Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr Black and you too Harry, would be most welcome, of course - but I dare say you'd rather go to the school feast?"
Phoebe chewed her lower lip "Um..." she started before cutting herself off, how could she decline Nick's offer? He had just saved them from being punished and he looked like he needed some serious cheering up.
"We'd love to come." Harry smiled brightfully jumping in and saving Phoebe from answering.
"We will?" the Elemental questioned. Harry threw her a look. "Oh, yes, yes we will" she nodded enthusiastically.
Nick looked ecstatic "Do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?"
"Of course," said Phoebe "Who wouldn't be scared or impressed of you, Nick?"
Nearly Headless Nick beamed at her.
~*Phoebe*~
"A Death day Party?" said Hermione keenly, when Phoebe had told her about their new plans for Halloween night. The bookworm was sitting cross-legged on her bed in the second year dorms talking with Phoebe who was showering and changing in the bathroom. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those - it'll be fascinating!"
Sticking her head around the bathroom door Phoebe frowned "Did you just say fascinating?" she asked.
"Yes. Why?"
"I dunno," Phoebe shrugged withdrawing "It's just...why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died? Isn't that a little depressing?"
It was Hermione's turn to shrug "I dunno. But I guess a Death day to them is like a Birthday to us."
"True." Phoebe nodded as she appeared from the bathroom, waved her wand over her wet hair and smiled as it dried and straightened out perfectly. "So I guess that means we're attending the Death day party?"
"Well, you already said you would go, it would be rude to not turn up."
Phoebe shrugged "Okay," she agreed.
Hermione smiled and flopped backwards onto her bed. The dormitory was silent as Phoebe shuffled around and scrambled into bed; she propped up her pillows and snuggled under the blankets.
After wishing Hermione a goodnight the Elemental closed her curtains and rolled over onto her side as she allowed herself to sink into the darkness that surrounded her.
~*Phoebe*~
By the time Halloween arrived. Phoebe was cursing Harry for promising Nick that they would go to the Death day Party. The rest of the school -including James- were 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 them "You said you'd go to the Death day Party."
So, at seven o'clock, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Phoebe walked straight past the doorway to the packed Great Hall, which was glittering invitingly with gold plates and candles, and directed their steps instead towards the dungeons.
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.
Phoebe shivered in the same way she did when she was learning to regain control over her elemental core over the summer, and drew her robes closer to her body in hopes of warming herself up.
Noticing the shiver, Harry wrapped his arm around Phoebe's shoulders and drew her close trying to warm her using his own body as a heat source.
"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered as the four of them heard what sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard. 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 pinned 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 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.
Phoebe shivered again and drew herself closer to Harry.
"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested, drawing Phoebe in closer. He could feel her shivering beneath her school robes and it made him frown in confusion as to why she was reacting so fiercely to the sudden drop in temperature.
"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. The Bloody Baron was also present, he was a guant, staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver bloodstains, and was being given a wide berth by the other ghosts.
Suddenly Hermione stopped dead in her tracks "Oh no. Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle -"
"Myrtle? Where?" Phoebe asked looking around.
"Who?" asked Harry, as they backtracked quickly.
"She haunts the girls' bathroom on the first floor." said Hermione.
"She haunts a bathroom?"
Phoebe nodded "Yes. It's been out of order all year because she keeps throwing tantrums and flooding the place. No one ever goes in there if they can avoid it, it's awful trying to go to the loo with her wailing at you -"
"Look, food!" said Ron.
On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. They approached it eagerly, but next moment had 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 cheese covered in furry green mould and, 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
As the friends backed away from the table a portly ghost approached and 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.
"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 putrid haggis.
Phoebe wrinkled her nose in disgust "Oh, Hermione don't!" she whined.
"Can we move? I feel sick," said Ron.
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.
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," said Phoebe, her stomach churning.
"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 we said, she'll be really upset," Hermione whispered frantically. "We didn't mean it, we don't mind mer - er, hello Myrtle."
The squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face anyone had ever seen, half-hidden by 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 and Miss Blackheart were just talking about you -" said Peeves slyly.
"Just saying - saying - how nice you look tonight," said Hermione, glaring at Peeves.
Myrtle eyed them 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..."
Phoebe grinned as she poked Harry in the ribs.
"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 missed out 'spotty'," Peeves hissed in her ear.
Phoebe glared at him "Peeves!" she scolded.
But Myrtle had already burst into anguished sobs and fled from the dungeon. Peeves shot after her, pelting her with mouldy peanuts, yelling, 'Spotty! Spotty!'
"Oh, dear," said Hermione sadly.
Nearly Headless Nick now drifted towards them through the crowd.
"Enjoying yourselves?"
"Oh, yes," they lied.
"Not a bad turnout," said Nick 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 in the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excitement, as a hunting horn sounded.
"Oh, here we go," said Nick bitterly.
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 as Phoebe poked him again in the ribs and nodded in Nick's direction.
The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging; a large ghost at the front, whose bearded head was under his arm, blowing the horn, 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 Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder.
"Welcome, Patrick, said Nick stiffly.
"Live 'uns!" said Sir Patrick, spotting Harry, Ron, Hermione and Phoebe 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 Sir Patrick's head from the floor "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say - look at the fellow -"
"You don't know Nick well enough to tell him no!" Phoebe jumped in "He positively terrifying on the best of occasions, and so what if his head isn't completely severed from his body? That is scarier than being completely decapitated!"
Sir Patrick fell silent as Nick smiled thankfully in Phoebe's direction, before floating towards the stage.
"If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!" said Nearly Headless Nick as he climbed onto the podium under the icy-blue spotlight. "My late lamented, ladies and gentleman, it is my great sorrow..."
But nobody heard much more. Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless 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.
"Can we go?" Phoebe asked, she was frozen and hungry by now.
Harry nodded in agreement -and still with his arm around Phoebe- backed towards the door with Ron and Hermione, nodding and beaming at everyone who turned to look at them. A minute later they were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles.
"Pudding might not have finished yet," said Ron hopefully, leading the way towards the steps to the Entrance Hall.
Phoebe grinned wistfully as she tugged Harry in the direction of the Great Hall. She was still clinging to him as if her life depended on it.
Harry stumbled to a halt, one arm clutching Phoebe, while the other clutched at the stone wall.
"Harry, what're you -?"
"It's the voice again - shut up a minute -"
There was a pause.
"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and Ron, Phoebe and Hermione froze, watching him.
Phoebe watched as a mixture of fear and excitement flashed across Harry's face as he stared at the dark ceiling.
"This way," he shouted, and 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, pulling Phoebe behind him as Ron and Hermione clattered after them from behind.
"Harry, what are we -"
"SHH!"
There was another pause and Phoebe managed to extract her hand from Harry's as his grip became tighter around her wrist.
"It's going to kill someone!" he shouted, and ignoring the bewildered looks that adorned his friend's features, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time.
Phoebe frowned and turned to the two behind her "What does he hear?" she questioned.
Hermione and Ron shrugged before the three of them followed after their friend.
"Harry -"
"Slow down!"
"Not so fast!"
Harry hurtled around the corner at the end of the second floor, Phoebe blasted around it next as Hermione and Ron panting behind them. But Harry didn't stop until they had turned a corner onto the last, deserted passage.
"Harry, what was that all about?" said Phoebe colliding with the back of the Seeker who had stopped short. "We couldn't hear anything..."
But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.
"Look!"
Something was shining on the wall ahead. Slowly, Phoebe approached, 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.
Copyrighted ©
Chapter written by xXxKaraBeckerCutterxXx
Chapter updated Sunday, October 16, 2011 at 4:15am