Chapter 39
Saturday, October 31, 1992- The Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Somewhere in Scotland
For the first time ever, Patricia was at the Halloween Feast. She wasn't there for the feast itself, though the jack o' lanterns holding the floating candles and the live bats flying around them were impressive. Violet's father was going to come to Hogwarts tonight and as her friend Patricia had to be available to provide moral support, at least until she could beg to be excused because she'd promised to attend Sir Nicholas's five-hundredth deathday party. Her presence might have caused a stir among the students if it hadn't been for George. More precisely, George and his monkey tail.
The morning's animagus lessons had resulted in paws for Patricia and Lee, feathers for Fred, and a tail for George. Only George hadn't been able to get back to fully human. He was using his prehensile tail as a third hand, picking up his mug of warm pumpkin juice with it at one moment and holding his knife to cut his piece of turkey the next. The first-years kept looking at him with wide eyes and even some of the older students looked impressed.
Violet put down her fork for the umpteenth time and turned to Grace. "What time is it?"
"Three minutes after the last time you asked, Vi," Grace said, not even bothering to look at her watch. "Eat something, would you? You skipped breakfast and lunch. We don't need you to take up fainting now that Patricia doesn't anymore."
Patricia paused with a forkful of mash halfway to her mouth. "You jinxed it, Grace."
Grace looked confused. "I don't even have my wand out."
"Not a magic jinx jinxed, a 'now that's definitely going to happen' jinxed," Patricia said. "Muggle saying."
Grace made a sound of understanding. "Sorry." She may have been a half-blood, but that didn't mean she had a lot of experience with muggle vocabulary.
Patricia sighed. "Not your fault. Besides, I think I'd rather faint than cough up blood."
Patricia went back to her meal and Grace glared at Violet until she started eating too. Noe picked at her food so that Grace wouldn't start glaring at her. The four girls made small talk about Arithmancy and Potions homework and books they were reading. They had each started their own research into ways to keep Noe and her family in Britain. Patricia had suggested that her father look for a job in the muggle world and had been searching for how international wizarding education could transfer to British muggle jobs, but she'd gotten sidetracked by books about the wizarding schools of the world. Grace had taken over for Patricia when her own idea didn't pan out (it turned out that it was even harder to get employed as a private family lawyer than it was at a magical law practice) and was in the middle of telling the other girls about the qualifications required to be a translator when lightning flashed across the enchanted ceiling. A loud crash of thunder followed, causing the ears of many in the Great Hall to ring.
Grace looked up at the ceiling and frowned. "It's not raining."
Not only wasn't it raining, the sky was almost completely clear with only a few wisps of cloud cover. Students up and down the tables were realizing this. A few of them were wondering out loud if the ceiling was malfunctioning.
Several minutes after the thunder had shaken the castle, the long, low call of a horn sounded. Violet, who had been trying to figure out the inexplicable thunder and lightning with most of Ravenclaw, turned white as the blood drained from her face.
"What's..." Patricia's question trailed off as she realized what the horn meant, especially in conjunction with the thunder and lightning sans storm. "Oh."
Grace patted Violet's shoulder. "Look alive, Vi."
The doors of the Great Hall blew open with a crash. There was a scramble among the students. The first years turned to look towards the doors while the older students who had been present for last Halloween's troll incident either drew their wands, panicked, or completely lost their heads and tried to hide under the table (very few of them noticed that Lockhart had taken the third option). The tall, muscular man standing in the doorway ignored the dozens of wands pointed at him and strode into the hall. His forest green cloak and snow white hair streamed behind him as he marched up to the High Table.
"Albus Dumbledore." The man's voice rumbled as he spoke.
Dumbledore stood. "Lord Herne. May I assume that your hunters are waiting outside?"
"Aye." Herne's lips twitched into a smile. "I have encouraged them to avail themselves of your forest's hospitality."
Dumbledore smiled serenely. "I do hope they stay out of the way of the centaurs."
"What is the meaning of this, Headmaster?" Snape demanded through gritted teeth and his trademark sneer.
Lord Herne, faerie king and leader of the Wild Hunt, glared at Snape. Their eyes met and Herne's glowed acid green. Snape turned even paler than he normally was and quickly looked away.
"I like that guy," George said. His voice echoed in the silent hall and several students and teachers looked at him with bewilderment.
"He's got style," Fred agreed.
Lee shrank down in his seat, looking like he was trying to hide under the table without actually hiding under the table. "Why am I friends with you?"
Meanwhile, Grace and Violet were having an argument all in facial expressions and hand gestures that ended suddenly when Grace hauled Violet out of her seat and marched her to the front of the Great Hall. Violet's squeak drew Herne's attention from the show the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were putting on.
Violet blushed and looked down at her shoes. "Um, hi Dad."
Of course, the entire hall heard her.
By the time the resulting pandemonium had died down, Herne had taken a seat at the Ravenclaw table and been introduced to Violet's friends, at least the ones who knew he was coming and weren't afraid to sit less than a table length away from him (and Luna Lovegood, who remained sitting across from Noe and humming a jaunty tune as she ate). That's not to say that Patricia, Grace and Noe weren't scared of the faerie king who looked like he could rip their heads off with one hand, they were just confident that he wouldn't as long as they were polite.
Their version of polite was making as little noise as possible in case Herne took offence to their existence.
After she finished her dinner, Patricia waited for a break in Violet and Herne's conversation before excusing herself to go to Nick's deathday party.
Herne raised an eyebrow. "A deathday party? Would the honoree be opposed to uninvited guests?"
Patricia let out a squeak that made her question why her animagus form wasn't a mouse. "I don't think so, Lord Herne." Nick would probably enjoy being able to brag that a faeire king had come to his party.
Grace and Noe were able to take the safe option of remaining in the Great Hall by doing their best to look like the table. Patricia led Herne and Violet down to the dungeons, where Nick's deathday party was being held. Luna, who had also been invited, skipped behind them. They heard the party before they got there, all funeral dirges and ghostly chattering. Nick was hovering just inside the door, talking to two unfamiliar ghosts. A smile split his face when he saw Patricia but was quickly smothered by a mournful expression.
"Happy Deathday, Nick," Patricia said.
"Thank you. Welcome to my little celebration." Nick gestured towards the two ghosts he had been talking to, a woman in a long dress and veil and a young man with slicked back hair and a leather jacket. "Allow me to introduce the Wailing Widow from Kent and Keith Smythe of the road."
"I died on the M1, Junction 17," Keith said. He had a Cockney accent. "Racing."
"Horses?" Violet asked.
Keith smiled. "Cars."
Violet continued to look confused while Patricia introduced her and Lord Herne to Nick and the other two ghosts. As predicted, Nick was beyond pleased to have Herne there. Patricia went to look for Myrtle while the two of them talked. Violet hid in her father's shadow, looking around at all the ghosts in the room with wide eyes. Luna disappeared into a crowd of ghosts dancing to the mournful music, spinning away with a young boy in a puffy doublet.
The dungeon was much colder than normal thanks to all the ghosts. Black taper candles lit with bluebell flames were the only source of light. Patricia wove around the dead, searching for her friend. A little boy ghost ran across her path chasing after a ghost dog and she couldn't dodge him in time to avoid walking through him. She immediately felt like she'd been dunked feet first in ice water. She hadn't shaken off the extra chill by the time she ran into the Bloody Baron hovering in a corner. He told her that Myrtle had left a few minutes ago after being teased by Peeves. She would be crying in her washroom for the rest of the night.
Patricia spotted three more living people after a turn around the dance floor with Keith, who danced like he was hearing rock music rather than a dirge. Harry, Ron and Hermione were looking lost not far from the band. Patricia walked over to them with Keith beside her.
"You're here too?" Harry asked.
"Do you have any food?" Ron wanted to know.
Patricia shook her head. "You should have gone to the feast first. Nick wouldn't have minded if you were late."
Keith pointed at Harry. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"
Harry nodded, his face turning pink.
"I've heard about you. Something about an evil wizard?" Keith chuckled. "Wizards. I still can't believe wizards are real."
"You're a muggle?" Ron exclaimed.
Keith rubbed the back of his head. "I guess so."
Hermione immediately jumped on Keith with questions. Patricia had a few of her own. How could a muggle become a ghost? Was it because he died on a road, many of which ran along ley lines?
Before Keith could get a word in edgewise, Harry's head shot up. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Ron asked.
Harry ran out the door. Hermione and Ron looked at each other for a split second before running after him. A Mermish curse passed through Patricia's lips. In air it sounded like a rusty hinge.
"Hey," Keith said before Patricia could run after the second-year students. "If you happen to die in four years or so, I've got a car. It has a radio with eight-track."
Patricia blinked once, twice, three times. "I'll, uh, remember that."
Patricia caught up with Harry, Ron and Hermione on the second floor right by Myrtle's washroom. It was fairly easy to follow them until that point since they were making the only noise in the hallways. Hermione was trying to shepherd the boys away when Patricia stopped behind them.
Patricia stared at the wall over the Gryffindors' heads. A sick, icy feeling filled her stomach.
Written on the stone in bright, shining red was a message:
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.