Nearly Headless Nick, otherwise known as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, threw a hell of a Death Day Party, as far as Harry was concerned.
It started at seven and they found it by following a path of jet black tapered candles through the dungeons, each step getting colder and colder until their teeth were chattering when they finally reached the door of the room it was in. They were greeted both by the sound of a thousand nails down a chalkboard and by Nearly Headless Nick who was floating in front of a door blocked by heavy black curtains.
"My dear friends," he said mournfully, "Welcome, welcome, so pleased you could come…" He swept off his hat and bowed them into the room.
It was an incredible sight and not for the first time Harry wished he had a camera, not that the ghosts were guaranteed to show up on camera.
The room was filled with hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor and waltzing to the dreadful sound of thirty musical saws, played by a ghost orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. It was lit by a chandelier hung with hundreds more black candles. Their breaths rose in the air before them, it was like stepping into a freezer.
Without thinking Harry started forward and immediately began questioning ghosts about their lives, Hermione taking the opposite side while Ron drifted towards the buffet, which was covered with a wide assortment of completely rotten food all surrounding a tomb-shaped gray cake that read Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Died 31st October 1492.
As he watched in horror a portly ghost approached the table, then floated through it, his mouth wide open. "Can you taste it if you do that?" he asked the ghost.
"Almost," the ghost said mournfully before floating off.
Feeling sick Ron decided to leave the table when suddenly Peeves came from underneath it holding a bowl of rotting peanuts.
"Hello Peeves," Ron said cautiously.
"Nibbles?" the non-translucent being offered sweetly.
"Uh, no that's alright."
Peeves however obviously didn't think much of that answer because he began to pelt Ron with the peanuts until he was chased away by the Bloody Baron.
Meanwhile, Hermione and Harry were having the times of their lives, even if they had to keep casting warming charm after warming charm.
Mostly what they learned was that ghosts mostly occurred from violent deaths, although occasionally they occurred simply if there was unfinished business, that though was the minority. Every ghost had been a mage during their life. None of them knew anything about the afterlife and grew incensed if you asked about it so they quickly stopped with that line of questioning.
Hermione did have a rather unfortunate run-in with a ghost that haunted the castle, the second-floor girl's bathroom to be exact. She tried to avoid her but all that did was make Myrtle very mad and she was soon ranting about how everyone found her ugly, fat, and miserable, before flying off in a fit of hysterics.
Around that time Nick approached Harry and Ron, who had joined Harry, and explained what had happened at the buffet table. "Enjoying yourselves?"
"Yeah," Ron muttered unconvincingly at the same time that Harry enthusiastically said, "It's great!"
"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 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.
Harry glanced at him curiously just as a dozen ghost horses burst through the dungeon wall, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly but Harry refrained after seeing Nick so distraught.
The leader of the pack jumped down, carrying his bearded head under his arm. He lifted it so it could see over the crowd and the crowd laughed. Then he strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head onto his neck as he went.
"Nick," he roared, "How are you? Head still hanging in there?" he laughed heartily at his own joke and clapped Nick on the shoulder.
"Welcome Patrick," Nick said stiffly.
"Live 'uns!" Sir Patrick exclaimed as he spotted Harry, Hermione, and Ron. He jumped in fake astonishment and it caused his head to fall off again. The crowd howled with laughter.
"Very amusing," Nick muttered.
"Don't mind Nick," shouted Sir Patrick's head from the floor, "Still upset we won't let him join the hunt! But I dare say – look at the fellow-"
Feeling incensed on Nick's behalf he said, "I think Nick's great! Quite terrifying and-"
Sir Patrick laughed, "Ha! I bet he asked you to say that!"
Trying to gain some control back Nearly Headless Nick said loudly, "If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!"
Moving onto the platform and into an icy blue spotlight he said, "My late lamented lords, ladies and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…"
Unfortunately, Harry and Hermione were some of the only ones paying attention as the Headless Hunt had begun to play Head Hockey.
"Can we go?" Ron whined, "I feel like I'm going to get sick at this rate!"
It was even colder than it had been when they'd walked in and none of them could get the warming charms to work even a little bit anymore.
"I don't know…" Harry murmured, still watching Nearly Headless Nick trying to give his speech.
"Oh Harry," Hermione said sadly, "I hate to say it but I almost can't feel my toes anymore. Please may we go?"
Harry sighed but moved forward to pass on his regrets to Nick, explaining that they were all so cold they couldn't feel their feet anymore. Nick, at least, seemed understanding, if sad, and waved them out.
"Pudding might not be done!" Ron exclaimed as they hurried down the same black taper-lit walkway, leading the way to the Great Hall.
They were halfway there when Harry heard, "Rip… Tear… Kill!"
He startled at the voice and looked around wildly, "Did you guys hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"…so hungry… for so long..."
The voice was beginning to get faint and without thinking Harry began to follow it, rushing down corridors and up stairs.
"…kill…time to kill…"
"This way!" Harry shouted as he ran past the Great Hall filled with people and up the first-floor stairs.
"Blood! I smell blood!"
"It's going to kill someone!" he shouted as he ran up the stairs to the second floor.
He ran through the whole of the second floor until he got to the last unoccupied corridor.
"What the bloody hell was that about?" Ron demanded.
Before Harry could say anything Hermione said, "Look!"
Following her pointed finger, they turned and found something written on the wall in blood.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED! ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE!
"What's that thing hanging beneath it?" Ron asked.
"Oh Merlin," Harry gasped feeling sick, "I think it's Mrs. Norris!"
Sure enough, Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, hung by her tail from a torch bracket, stiff as a board, eyes wide open in terror.
They all stared at the scene for several seconds before Ron said, "We should get out of here."
"We should help!" Harry exclaimed.
"Trust me, we don't want to be found here."
It was too late though. They could hear that the feast had ended and hundreds of people were beginning to climb the stairs. Chattering happily they approached from either end, all falling silent as they caught sight of Mrs. Norris.
"Enemies of the Heir beware! You'll be next Mudbloods!" It was Malfoy. His eyes were alight with excitement, his face flushed as he stared at Mrs. Norris. He looked nothing short of thrilled at the prospect of people dying.
"What's going on here? What's going on here?" Filch shouldered his way through, no doubt attracted by the shouting. When he caught sight of Mrs. Norris he stared in blank horror, clutching his chest as if his heart was going to give out.
He looked around wildly and then caught sight of Harry. "You!" He screamed, "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 several teachers. In moments he had moved past Harry, Hermione, and Ron and detached Mrs. Norris from the bracket.
"Come with me Argus," he said to Filch. "You as well, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss. Granger."
After a moment he looked at Lockhart who was exceptionally pale, "I believe your office is closest, just upstairs. May we use it?"
The man nodded woodenly, "Of course."
"Thank you, Gilderoy."
The quiet crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart was serious, more serious than anyone had ever seen him, as he hurried after the Headmaster, Professors McGonagall, and Snape right behind them.
As they entered Lockhart's office there was a flurry of movement as the paintings that decorated every wall, most of them in hair curlers and with cream on their face, fled. The real Lockhart lit the candles around the room, then stood back, allowing Dumbledore to step forward and place Mrs. Norris on the desk.
He studied her carefully, poking and prodding at her with his wand. Professor McGonagall stood close by, also watching her carefully. Professor Snape looked like he wanted to smile. Finally, Professor Lockhart stood rooted in place, worrying his hands, "It- it could be the Transmogrifian Torture. I've seen it many times…"
Lockhart's comments caused Filch to let out a great, wracking sob and Harry found himself feeling bad for the man. He may not like him, or his cat, but it was clear this had devastated him. He also found himself worried. If Dumbledore believed him then Harry was expelled for sure.
The headmaster began to mutter strange words as he tapped her with his wand but nothing happened. She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.
"…I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou," Lockhart continued to mutter. "A series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets that cleared it right up…"
Finally, the Headmaster straightened, "She's not dead, Argus."
Lockhart stopped abruptly in the counting of murders he'd prevented, looking relieved.
"Not dead?" Filch gasped, "But then why's she all stiff and frozen?"
"She's been Petrified, though how I can't say."
"Ask him!" Filch exclaimed, pointing at Harry.
"No second year could have done this," Dumbledore countered. "It would take most advanced dark magic to accomplish."
"He did it, he did it!" Filch ranted, his face turning purple. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He was right next to it!"
"I just wanted to help!"
"Liar!" Filch screeched.
"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows and Harry's stomach dropped. "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. That said we do have a suspicious set of circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"
The three of them launched into an explanation about the Death Day party.
"Why not join the feast after?" Snape asked, sounding vindictive.
"We were tired and wanted to go to bed," Hermione said.
"Yeah, it's really cold down there so we wanted to get under our blankets right away."
"Without supper?"
"We weren't hungry," Ron said right as his stomach growled.
Snape smiled nastily, "It seems to me that they're not being entirely truthful. Perhaps detention…"
Dumbledore eyed them for a moment before saying, "Innocent until proven guilty."
"Innocent!" Filch exclaimed. "My cat has been petrified! I will see some punishment!"
"We will be able to cure her, Argus." Albus said softly, "Professor Sprout has procured some mandrakes who will mature in spring, and then a potion will be made to revive Mrs. Norris."
"You're dismissed," he added to the three of them.