Prompt: Halloween

Any time period/pairing/era

Word count: 500-5000

Note: The following story is a submission to the facebook group Platform 9 3/4. All stories on this profile are works submitted by multiple authors through means of the group. Contestants will remain anonymous until voting is completed. Only the author and moderators of the challenge are aware of identities.

Disclaimer: the author of this story did not create these characters and will in no way claim ownership therein. All things Harry Potter related belong to JK Rolling.


Story Title: The Life of the Party

Rating: K

Genre: Romance/Humor

Fanfic name: -Undisclosed at this time-

Pairing if any: Sir Nicholas/Helena Ravenclaw

Ocs if any: None

Summary: Sir Nick, about to celebrate his deathday again, decides he truly only wants to one person to attend his dinner party: the beautiful and aloof Grey Lady. Unfortunately, his invitation doesn't quite go as planned.


The Life of the Party


Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, or Nearly Headless Nick, as he was sometimes called - although not by his own preference - liked to have a big death-day party on Halloween every year. It didn't always go well.

One year, it had been cancelled because Peeves' mischief had rendered the usual site in the dungeons completely useless. Peeves set off a bunch of Extra Long-Life SuperBright Firecrackers down there, which were annoying as they kept bouncing off the walls, re-igniting, and passing through his guests with audible pops. No one wanted to stay very long.

For his 500th, he'd invited the famous Harry Potter in hopes of impressing the members of the Headless Hunt, who galloped through on ghostly horses and disrupted his speech with a game of Head Hockey - and then made an announcement that they would not be letting him into their exclusive club. Several years after that, a damper had been put upon the party by the fact that Death Eaters were in charge of the school. Even the ghosts were too dispirited to celebrate that year.

But this time, Nick was determined to have the best of all possible deathday parties. In a departure from tradition, he decided he really wished to invite only one person: Helena Ravenclaw, the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw House.

Truth he told, Nick had always found the Grey Lady appealing. Her cool and disdainful beauty, her somber and dignified demeanor, and most of all, her clear antipathy for him and pretty much everyone else - well, how could he not find that irresistible? Unfortunately, she barely glanced his way whenever she passed him in the many drafty corridors of Hogwarts castle. They had perhaps exchanged under a hundred words in the many centuries they had shared the same space. Words like, "Excuse me," and "Fine day, isn't it?" or "Please go away, I'm reading."

The rumor was that the Grey Lady had once been involved with the Bloody Baron, but Helena Ravenclaw treated the Baron with a distant politeness that revealed nothing. For his own part, Nick didn't believe it for a moment. The Bloody Baron was commanding, passionate, with uncontrollable feelings - the Grey Lady's complete opposite. Surely she would be better off with someone like him, Nick - someone who worshipped the very air she trod upon with those dainty little slippers she wore under her long gown.

He found his opportunity to slip her the invitation one day in the Great Hall. Most of the students had already left for classes, and the enchanted ceiling above was cloudy and overcast, so the Grey Lady had ventured out with a book. She was so engrossed in it, she was startled to finally notice him hovering in front of her, looking as gallant as possible and smoothing his hair frantically.

"My lady," he bowed, in that archaic form of address that had once become him in a time long gone. He twirled his moustaches, trying not to seem to eager as he handed her an invitation embossed with the most flowing calligraphy he was capable of producing in his non-corporeal state.

The Grey Lady looked at him, then the invitation, startled from her book. "I do not usually venture out on Halloween," she said mildly. "Your parties are notorious for being, shall we say, out of control, Sir Nicholas."

"It will be just a small dinner party," Sir Nick said hurriedly. "A more intimate gathering this year. I'm trying something new. It won't be in the dungeons. I'll be having it - " he thought quickly, " - in the Astronomy Tower. At seven o'clock." That sounded romantic, he told himself in satisfaction.

The Grey Lady hesitated, but his entreaty was having an effect on her. She preferred solitude, but had sometimes felt envious of the gaiety she saw at gatherings the students and other ghosts had. "All right," she said. "I shall see you there. Who else is invited?"

"Er, well, see, actually - " Sir Nick said, blustering a bit.

"Me!" crowed a voice, swooping down at them, and suddenly Moaning Myrtle was in front of them. She looked sly. "You are going to invite me, aren't you, Sir Nick? You wouldn't forget Moaning Myrtle, would you?" She batted her beady eyes at him grotesquely. "That would be quite rude - but then again, no one invites me anywhere!" She shook her head dramatically, and silvery tears formed in her eyes.

The Grey Lady looked at Myrtle with some surprise. "You?"

"Er, certainly you're invited, Myrtle," Sir Nick said gamely and resignedly.

Myrtle whooped excitedly, sidling up to Nick with a fluttering of eyelashes. "I can't wait," she said in a way she must have thought was flirtatious. "I'll look my very best for you, Sir Nicholas." Cackling, she swept off in a series of exuberant loop de loops, leaving the two staring at the place where she'd been.

The Grey Lady curtsied at Sir Nick. "Pardon me, Sir Nick," she said. "Thank you for the invitation. I will see you at your party." She left him as well.

Sir Nick waited till he was all alone, then let out a few whoops of his own, followed by a celebratory jig that had several house-elves, who had come in to see to the cleaning, staring in consternation. She was coming! Now he had work to do.

Over the next few days Sir Nick made sure everything was perfect. He obtained new black candles, which glowed dimly red and blue and silver. He hired a violinist to play his favorite brand of music, to create what he considered a romantic atmosphere with an elegant yet edgy sound - which is how he heard the horrible sawing noises that the violinist made. He ordered his favorite party foods from the kitchen - mold-covered cheeses and fruits, rotting meats, and an entree of smoked sheep's head. For dessert, he had the Hogwarts house elves create a small, heavy-looking cake that listed the date of his death - October 31, 1492, in slimy black and gray icing.

Sir Nick hesitated, but decided to invite at least some of the other castle ghosts to make his party seem, well, more like a party. Not the Bloody Baron, whom Nick found rather intimidating, and certainly not Peeves - but the Fat Friar would be a jolly addition. Perhaps Professor Binns as well, who could be counted on to fall asleep before nine o'clock. And perhaps one of those two could distract Myrtle as the evening went on. Everything would be magnificent! Fortunately, the Fat Friar was free, and Professor Binns also accepted the invitation.

Nick's death-day turned out to be just right - rainy in the morning, clear and cold at night. A good evening, with a full moon, but Nick felt gloomy. He hadn't come up with a plan for getting the Fat Friar and Moaning Myrtle to leave early, yet. Perhaps inspiration would strike as the evening went on.

A table with tattered black velvet draped over it had been placed in the Astronomy Tower, and the candles were lit between the wide arched windows that surrounded the room, looking out to the sky and the mountains that surrounded Hogwarts castle. They looked dark and mysterious in the waning light, which suited Sir Nick quite well. He was ready well before seven o'clock struck, having spruced up his frill and his yellow and purple velvet doublet - not that the color could be discerned after 500 years of ghostdom.

Exactly on time, Professor Binns glided into the room and greeted him kindly, wishing him a happy deathday. He was followed by Helena Ravenclaw, who had a rather haughty expression on her face that, if he had been more observant and less fawning in an effort make her comfortable, might have discouraged him. Soon, the Fat Friar came in as well, saying heartily, "Well, well, isn't this pleasant? That cake looks wonderful, Sir Nick!" Myrtle was last to enter, apparently in quite a good mood, wearing a green and gold party hat and appearing already tipsy.

"Please, come in and enjoy," he said, pointing out the appetizers. "The very finest moldy cheeses…fermented fish tails from Baffin Bay…this Black Forest fungus grown in Hogwarts' very own greenhouses, Professor Sprout reserves a small portion of one of them just for me…oh, this punch has decayed nicely, quite strong indeed," he nattered on nervously.

The conversation was stilted at first. Nick tried to encourage the Grey Lady to speak more, but there was a great deal of awkwardness in the proceedings, beginning with his passing the lizard eyeballs and spilling them all over the object of his affections - right through her robes and onto the floor. His profuse apologies took up the next fifteen minutes while the Grey Lady adopted an expression akin to that of a Malfoy whose house elf had just been handed clothes.

Silence descended upon the room. The Fat Friar, noticing the dearth of conversation, stepped in with a sure conversation-starter, for which Nick was eternally grateful. "Did you hear, my friends, that Hermione Granger may be the next Minister of Magic?"

This started them reminiscing, and they spent the rest of the evening telling stories about their old students' adventures at Hogwarts - although the Grey Lady sat mostly silent and disapproving of such idle gossip and Myrtle's stories seemed mostly to be about catching certain good-looking male students in the altogether. This took them all the way to the dessert course. Soon, Professor Binns started to nod off, starting up every few minutes to join the conversation at the exact point at which he'd dozed off.

Nick thought happily, this is going well…but I must get rid of the others so I can enjoy the company of the beautiful Grey Lady. He clapped his hands together. "My dear Professor Binns, perhaps the Fat Friar could help you get back downstairs. You seem done in for the night. I will clean up here. My lady - " he bowed to Helena Ravenclaw. "Feel free to finish your dessert."

"Ah, that sounds like a brilliant idea," the Fat Friar said, winking at Nick. "Let me assist you, Professor. Sir Nick, happy deathday to you. Thank you for a very nice evening." The two of them glided through the door and left.

Now for the hard one, Nick said. How would he get rid of Moaning Myrtle? She was eating her cake quite slowly, telling Helena Ravenclaw the story of her untimely death with a great number of exaggerated gestures and loud exclamations.

"Well, ladies," he said courteously, "The moon looks exceptionally bright tonight. Would you care to come to the window and see? It's quite lovely."

Myrtle jumped up immediately, went right up to him and put her head under his ruff after a couple of false tries. "It looks quite magical," she purred. "So romantic."

The Grey Lady looked coolly amused. "Perhaps I should leave you two alone," she said, her long hair rippling like silk as she got up. "Thank you for the dinner and the conversation. I - I don't get out much, so this was…nice." It sounded strange coming from her mouth, as though she were not used to giving compliments.

"Don't go, please," Nick said, feeling a bit desperate as he tried to extricate himself from Myrtle's tightening embrace.

"Don't be silly," Myrtle said, running her fingers up and down his arm. "We don't need you here, Lady Helena." She wiggled her fingers at the Grey Lady, which allowed Nick to extricate himself slightly.

"Good night," the Grey Lady said, and started to leave.

"Wait!" Nick cried. She turned to them.

"Take some cake with you, please!" he said, bolting out of Myrtle's iron grip to cut her a slice teeming with worms.

"I - well, thank you," she said, accepting a dish. "Perhaps I shall see you at breakfast tomorrow."

"Yes, absolutely," Nick said, nodding his head frantically. Maybe he could salvage something then. He tried to think desperately of a new way to delay her departure, when suddenly a big booming sound could be heard in the distance. Then again.

"What was that?" The Gray Lady turned to them, her eyes suddenly wide and fearful.

The booming sound continued, followed by a prolonged and hysterical flapping noise, and Sir Nick put himself in front of the women, his natural chivalrous instincts coming to the fore. "Do not fear!" he cried. "Stay behind me, ladies. We will discover the source of the noise."

He didn't have to go far. As the three descended from the tower, they could see that the poltergeist Peeves was giggling madly and throwing small, spiky silver balls into the corridor downstairs that, when they landed, dissolved into a thousand flapping, screeching bats that headed straight out the nearest exit. Weasley's Barbarous Bat-Bogey Bombs, Nick knew - George and Ron Weasley had created them in honor of their sister, Ginny, and they were item number 1,433 on Argus Filch's list of forbidden items (a list that now included approximately 616 items sold at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes). He saw them, grimaced, and called out, "Baron! They're here!"

Nick looked up, and suddenly there was the Bloody Baron, resplendent with the always-present, glittering blood down his front, looming over them like a dementor about to administer a kiss.

"Helena!" he barked. "You're coming with me!" He grabbed at her arm, but she resisted, crying out. His hand went right through her and he howled in frustration.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Nick bellowed, quickly getting between them and trying to shield Helena with his body. He'd forgotten completely about poor Myrtle, who cowered behind him.

The Bloody Baron laughed, a sinister sound. "Oh, Nick, you poor fool," he said. "Helena Ravenclaw is mine, as she has always been. We are destined to be together for eternity, here at Hogwarts. If you don't stay away from her of your own will, I shall have to take steps."

"She's not yours! She is is her own wo - er, ghost!" Nicholas said, standing his ground. He wasn't the Gryffindor house ghost for nothing - he could put on as brave a front as anyone.

Helenas stood looked straight into his eyes. "You're mistaken, Baron. You heard him. Leave me alone."

"Not until he promises to stay away from you," the Baron said fiercely, his eyes near red in the dim light of the hallway. "You may not accept me, but if you won't have me no one else will either. I have waited hundreds of years for you to return to me. I will wait hundreds more." He again lunged to reach her. She was like a statue, her eyes a mystery.

"I said, stay away!" Nick was about to challenge the angry Baron to a duel, when suddenly Myrtle sidled out from behind him and approached the baron with a rapt expression on her face. "Oh, Baron," she breathed, adjusting her glasses. "You know, you are extremely handsome when you're angry."

The Baron looked at her in perplexed surprise. "I'm sorry. Myrtle, is it? This does not concern you!"

Myrtle sneakily glided to his side and put her ghostly arms around him, muttering something meant to sound sultry, that reached Nick's ears as, "So brave! So strong and determined! Tell me Baron, how do you feel about…bathrooms?" She batted her eyelashes at him.

Totally bewildered, the Baron tried to shake Myrtle off, but she - as Nick knew - could be like a Janis thorn - prickly, poisonous, and hard to remove. The Baron moved backwards again and again to avoid her, but Myrtle went after him with single-minded determination, blocking him and swooping down to deter any advance. "Don't go!" she howled piteously. "I only want to show you my bathroom!"

He stared at her, then at the Grey Lady, eyes wild, and decided to cut his losses. He jerked backwards as fast as he could, and when he was clear, he disappeared with a pop. Myrtle gave a scream of frustration, then popped away too, presumably to chase after the hapless Baron.

Nick, stunned, could hardly believe his luck. At last, he was alone with the object of his daydreams. He took a moment to collect himself.. "M-my lady," he stammered, presenting his hand with a flourish. "Perhaps I could escort you to your - er, where do you reside, exactly?"

Helena Ravenclaw gave him the first hint of a smile as she gracefully put her hand in his - and her haughtiness had disappeared. "I would be delighted," she said.


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