THE HALLOWEEN HORROR
The month of October brought a damp chill, at Hogwarts. Students were suffering from, a small bite of cold every now and then. Three of the Weasleys were suffering from the cold, very badly that they turned pale. Ron, Ginny and Fred were dragged into the hospital wing by Percy, and they were given Pepper up potions by Madam Pomfrey. The worst of the affected was Simran, as she was not accustomed to cold climate, as it was a hot climate in India. Simran said that, this coldness will be experienced in her part of India, in the peak of winter and she hated that. She even told that, it never snowed at her place, which everyone found weird. Hermione and Natasha were relatively unaffected by the climate.
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. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Natasha was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud. Even aside from the rain and wind it hadn't been a happy practice session. Fred and George, who had been spying on the Slytherin team, had seen for themselves the speed of those new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. The twins reported that the Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles. Natasha was still really angry at Draco, even though he was trying to speak to her. She would just walk in the opposite direction, if she saw him coming from somewhere.
As Natasha squelched along the deserted corridor she came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as she was. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath, "...don't fulfil their requirements... half an inch, if that...". Natasha wondered what Nick was muttering about, and decided to greet the Gryffindor ghost.
"Hello, Nick," said Natasha.
"Hello, hello," said Nearly Headless Nick, starting and looking round. 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 Natasha could see right through him to the dark sky and torrential rain outside.
"You look troubled, young Natasha," said Nick, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet.
"So, do you,", said Natasha. "You look as if you are rejected out of something."
"Ah," Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, "a matter of no importance... It's not as though I really wanted to join... Thought I'd apply, but apparently, I don't fulfil requirements'-". In spite of his airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness on his face. "But you would think, wouldn't you," he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, "that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"
"Headless hunt? What in the world is that?", Natasha wanted to say. But she thought that the ghost might become angry, and only said, "Oh – yes."
"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 -" Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously:
"We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company 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 fulfil our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.'"
Fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away.
"Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Natasha! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore."
Natasha now was feeling a little bad for the unlucky ghost. Talk about being rejected by an inch, she thought. The ghost must be feeling really dreadful, as she obviously would, if she was in his place. Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths and then said, in a far calmer tone, "So - what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"
"I don't think you can do anything Nick. Not unless you can make Draco Malfoy see some sense, or you can buy seven free Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for our match against Sly-"
The rest of her sentence was drowned out by a high-pitched mewling from somewhere near her ankles. She 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. Natasha knew that, she was mostly in trouble as she just made the whole corridor really dirty. "You'd better get out of here, Natasha," said Nick quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood - he's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five.
Natasha knew that, she had to avoid the caretaker at all costs. Filch was a really bad man, if he was in a really bad mood. The whole dirt in the corridor was guaranteed to make him feel even more worse than ever. "Right," said Natasha, backing away from the accusing stare of Mrs. Norris, but not quickly 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 Natasha's 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. Natasha knew that, she was in big load of trouble now.
"I- I am r-really s-sorry about this.", she managed to blurt out. "Filth!" he shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Natasha's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potter!"
So, Natasha waved a gloomy good-bye to Nearly Headless Nick and followed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints on the floor. Natasha had never been inside Filch's office before; it was a place most students avoided and hated. Natasha was really feeling bad now. 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; from their labels, Natasha could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer to themselves. That was really not surprising as, they were the biggest troublemakers at Hogwarts.
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. Natasha had a feeling that, Filch would have certainly done that to her, in this situation if he was allowed to do so.
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.
"I am really so sorry, Mr. Filch. It was just an accident.", Natasha pleaded. But Filch just ignored her, and her rambling.
"Name... Natasha Potter. Crime...", he said.
"It was only a bit of mud!", said Natasha. "I can help you clean it up if you want!"
"It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's an extra hour scrubbing!" shouted Filch, a drip shivering unpleasantly at the end of his bulbous nose. "Crime... befouling the castle... suggested sentence...", Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Natasha who waited with bated breath for her sentence to fall. But she knew that, Filch will not give something really bad. But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! on the ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle.
"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 backward glance at Natasha, 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. Natasha didn't much like Peeves, but was really happy for his perfect timing. Natasha somehow felt that, this was not just a coincidence.
Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from Natasha. Thinking that she should probably wait for Filch to come back, Natasha sank into a moth-eaten chair next to the desk. There was only one thing on it apart from her 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, Natasha picked up the envelope and read:
Kwikspell
A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic.
The envelope was about some academy of magic, which was for people who were really terrible at magic, and it offered an easy way to perform and learn magic. She wondered for what reason did, Filch need the course for. She was in the middle of reading it when she heard Filch coming back, stuffing the parchment back into the envelope, Natasha threw it back onto the desk just as the door opened.
Filch was looking triumphant. "That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable!", Filch said to his cat. "We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet-", His eyes fell on Natasha and then darted to the Kwikspell envelope, which, Natasha realized too late, was lying two feet away from where it had started. Natasha felt guilt for reading something private, of Filch. She knew that, he was going to be really angry now.
Filch's pasty face went brick red. Natasha braced herself for a tidal wave of fury. Filch hobbled across to his desk, snatched up the envelope, and threw it into a drawer.
"Have you - did you read -?" he sputtered.
"No,", Natasha lied quickly.
Filch's knobbly hands were twisting together.
"If I thought you'd read my private -not that it's mine - for a friend - be that as it may - however-"
Natasha was staring at him, alarmed; Filch had never looked madder. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouchy cheeks, and the tartan scarf didn't help. The day was becoming really bad, moment after moment for her. She did not know, how it could become even more worse. "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-"
Amazed at her luck, Natasha sped out of the office, up the corridor, and back upstairs. To escape from Filch's office without punishment was probably some kind of school record.
"Natasha! Natasha! Did it work?", Nearly Headless Nick came gliding out of a classroom. Behind him, Natasha could see the wreckage of a large black-and-gold cabinet that 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-"
Natasha could not find enough words to thank the helpful ghost. She just smiled and said some thanks. "Yeah, it worked, I didn't even get detention. Thanks, Nick!", Natasha said gratefully. They set off up the corridor together. Nearly Headless Nick, Natasha noticed, was still holding Sir Patrick's rejection letter. "I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt,", Natasha said. Nearly Headless Nick stopped in his tracks and Natasha walked right through him.
"But there is something you could do for me," said Nick excitedly. "Natasha - would I be asking too much - but no, you wouldn't want-"
"What is it, Nick?", Natasha asked hoping that it was a really easy thing to do.
"Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday," said Nearly Headless Nick, drawing himself up and looking dignified.
"Oh.", Natasha said not knowing how she should react. It was the same, day as her parents died, so she was a bit sympathetic.
"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 and Miss Granger would be most welcome, too, of course - but I daresay you'd rather go to the school feast?" He watched Natasha on tenterhooks.
Natasha was reluctant to attend a party, on the day of her parent's death. So, she said, "I am really sorry, Nick. As you know, Halloween is also the anniversary of my parent's death. So, I really can't attend a party on such a day. I am sure that you can understand."
Nick looked at her with a kind face and said, "I do understand, Ms. Potter. You do have a really good reason. I cannot force you to attend my party. Happy Halloween anyways.".
"I will ask my other friends if they can join the party.", Natasha said. " Maybe one of them will come to the party."
"Thank you very much, Natasha.", Nick said and went away.
"A deathday party?" said Simran keenly when Natasha had changed at last and joined the other three in the common room. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those - it'll be fascinating!"
"So, will you be going?", Natasha asked with hope.
"Definitely. We did not have any ghosts at my school in India. All the ghosts were kicked out, when they wreaked havoc at the school some 200 years ago,", Natasha said. "It will be fascinating to attend a party with them. But I would need someone to come."
"I think I will come with you. Though I feel why anyone would want to celebrate the day they died?" said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. "Sounds dead depressing to me. But I will join you."
"Thank you very much Ron!", Simran said hugging Ron. "I think I will join Natasha in the feast. I am not comfortable going to such a party.", Hermione said.
Rain was still lashing the windows, which were now inky black, 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 Weasley, trying to find out what would happen if you fed a Filibuster firework to a salamander.
Fred had "rescued" the brilliant orange, fire-dwelling lizard from a Care of Magical Creatures class and it was now smouldering gently on a table surrounded by a knot of curious people.
Natasha was at the point of telling Ron, Hermione and Simran 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 escape into the fire, with accompanying explosions, drove both Filch and the Kwikspell envelope from Natasha's mind.
Unlike the last year, Natasha was not feeling jealous or guilty, thanks to Professor Snape's kind words the previous year. She like the whole 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.
Simran was really excited for the party she was planning to attend. Ron was now regretting his decision, to go to the deathday party. "A promise is a promise," Hermione reminded Natasha bossily. "You said you'd go to the deathday party with Simran. You just can't say that, you won't come with her now."
So right at Seven, Simran and Ron went to the party, and Hermione and Natasha went to the great hall for the feast. Natasha hoped that, nothing big and bad will happen this year like the last, as a troll was let loose in the school last year. But she was wrong, very wrong. The feast was a really tasty one, and Natasha enjoyed it thoroughly. "Do you suppose that, the other two are enjoying the party?", Hermione asked.
"I really hope that they are.", Natasha said. She then noticed that, Ginny Weasley was missing from the Gryffindor table. Natasha found it really weird. "Where is Ginny?", Natasha asked Fred.
"She said that she is not feeling well. So, she decided to skip the feast.", Fred replied. "By the way, where is Ron and Simran?", he asked.
"They both went to attend Nearly Headless Nick's 500th deathday party.", Hermione replied.
"Wow! He has been dead for 500 years? That is really long.", Fred said disbelievingly.
"That is not so much. Some of the ghosts here are believed to be nearly thousand years old, going back to the days of the founders.", Hermione replied.
"How do you know all that?", George asked eating a piece of roasted chicken.
"I read about it in Hogwarts a history.", Hermione said confidently.
The rest of the feast went on without much happening. But near the end of the feast, Hermione said that she had to go to toilet as she was not feeling very well. She was not well, for so many days. So Simran decided to accompany Hermione. They both told Fred and George to inform the teachers, if they ask what happened to them. While they were walking toward, the toilet, Natasha heard something which froze her on the way:
"... rip... tear... kill..."
It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice she had heard while she was returning from the library. She stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all her might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.
"Natasha, what're you -?", Hermione also stopped and turned to her.
"It's that voice again that I heard when we were returning from the Library. But now I heard more clearly- shut up a minute-", Natasha said.
"... soo hungry... for so long...", it continued.
"Listen!", said Natasha urgently, and Hermione froze, watching her.
"I can't hear anything, Natasha. You must be imagining it again.", Hermione said.
"No! I am sure that, it is for real!", Natasha said
"... kill... time to kill...", the voice muttered again.
The voice was growing fainter. Natasha was sure it was moving away - moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as she stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?
"This way,", she shouted, and she 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. Natasha sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Hermione was clattering behind her.
"Natasha, what're we-"
"SHH!"
Natasha strained her ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, she heard the voice: "... I smell blood... I SMELL BLOOD!".
Her stomach lurched-
"It's going to kill someone!" ,she shouted, and ignoring Hermione's bewildered faces, she ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over her own pounding footsteps - Natasha hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Hermione panting behind her, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage. Then they were suddenly joined by Simran who was coming from down the stairs, and was panting heavily.
"I was coming to the hall, and I saw you both running somewhere and followed you. What happened?", Simran asked.
"I heard something or someone whispering, that it wanted to kill. The voice was going this way. Where is Ron?", Natasha asked.
"He returned to the common room, in the middle of the party. He was feeling really sick, after seeing so many ghosts in one place. Can you believe it? I think there was like fifty ghosts there.", Simran said
Then 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?" , said Simran, a slight quiver in her voice.
As they edged nearer, Natasha almost slipped - there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Simran and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once, and 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.
All the three girls let out a gasp. Simran nearly let out a scream, but controlled her emotions.
For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Hermione said, "Let's get out of here. We can't be seen like this in the middle of this corridor."
"Shouldn't we try and help -" , Natasha began awkwardly. "She is in a really bad situation.", she said with a bit of sympathy.
"Trust me," said Hermione. "We don't want to be found here. People are going to get wrong impression about us being 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 front spotted the hanging cat. Natasha, Ron, and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight. Natasha knew that, she was in a hell lot of trouble.
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. Natasha just wanted to punch Draco again, but she knew that she was in trouble, and doing that will only make the things even more worse. The three girls just stared at each other, and wondered what they had gotten into.