----"Fridga-fradga-comfarmint-fraggin-" Harry came marching into Gryffindor tower soaked to the bone. The rain had dampened everything except Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for Quidditch practice. In the boys dormitory, Harry de-robed and gave a great sneeze. He was sure he had caught cold. Curling up under the nice warm blankets of his four poster, he was met with a sudden cold draft as the boys dormitory door sung open.

"Hi-ya Harry!" It was Ron. "Have you forgotten about Nick's Death Day party?" he asked.

Harry's eyes shot open. Opps, he had. He winced and groaned. Nick was a ghost, and if he didn't go he was sure that Nick would float on in here, enter up his nose into his brain and make him go. Swinging his feet out of bed into his shoes, he begrudgingly got up.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron rapped on the girl's dormitory door. Hermione appeared in the door way. She was wearing a bow in her hair.

"What's with the bow?" Ron asked.

Hermione adjusted it selfconsciously.

"Yeah, it looks like a gift of twine," Harry added. Hermione turned beet red.

"Let's just go, ok?" said Hermione.

--Entering the empty room; Harry, Ron and Hermione were shocked at how many ghosts there were in Hogwarts. They were also shocked at how putrid of a smell they could muster.

"Ah! You've made it!" Nick greeted them, his smile as wide at the gash on his neck.

"Ugh! What's that smell?!" Ron exclaimed. Harry elbowed his, thinking he saw Nick paying close attention to his friend's nasal cavity.

"It's the main course," Nick jestured towards a long table set up along the side wall. Heaped on the table was mounds of rotting food. Though it would probably be safe to say rotten as it couldn't get any worse. "Dumbledore supplied it," Nick smiled.

"What did you do to make him so angry?" Harry asked. Nick looked confused. "Oh! Why it's all rotten, I see. Well, since we're-"

"Dead," said Ron. Nick glared.

"Yes...dead. As I was saying," he gave him another sharp look, "The sharp tang of rotten food, gives us almost the sensation of taste."

Nick turned to Hermione. "That's a lovely ball of twine on your head," he smiled and floated away.

Hermione sighed and removed the bow.

Finding seats along the back; Harry, Ron and Hermione sat looking around at the scene before them. The Grey Lady of Ravenclaw, Fat Friar of Hufflepuff and Bloody Barron of Slytherin were all present as were some ghosts that they didn't recognize. There was one they didn't recognize for the fact that he was behaving and looking so out of character. Peeves was floating to the side of The Grey Lady; a transparent wine glass in one hand and a transparent cigar in the other. His normally untidy hair was combed to either side and he had what looked like spats over his shoes.

"Peeves?" Hermione said, incredulous.

He started, trasnlucent liquid spilling from his glass, disapating on the floor.

"Where's your bag of tricks?" Harry asked, still in disbelief.

"Yes, well it is a party for a friend of mine," he trailed off.

"That's never stopped you before," Ron remarked.

"Yes, well...Ok, the Bloody Baron scares the shit out of me and he's watching my every move." He downed the rest of the contents in his glass and floated off. Heading off the the food and punch that was set aside for them, Ron caught his two brothers Fred and George walking by.

"Oi!" he called out. They stopped.

"How come you two aren't in here?" Ron asked.

"We're too sexy for this party," said George.

"Right," said Fred.

Taking their seats, Hermione said, "I'm more of a Devo person, myself."

"Can we go now?" Ron asked. Harry had been anxious to get to the Great Hall feast after this, but the smell of rotting food had turned him nautious and he had no appetite. Judging by the looks of his friend's faces, he would guess they had too.

"Yeah, let's go."

--"Woah! What happened here?" exclaimed Ron. The corridor floor on theit way to the Gryffindor common room was completely flooded.

"I don't know. Toilet gone dodgy, I s'pose," said Harry.

Wading through the hall, a sight caught their eyes. They looked up and gasped.

Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, was strung up by her tail. The frightening sight was offset by a sack of open grain at the foot of the scene. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked quizicaly at eachother.

"Hello!" They nearly jumped out of their skins. Doby, the House Elf appeared in front of them. "Geezes, Dobby! What do you think you're doing?! You scared us half to death!" Harry patted his chest.

Doby's cute little ears dropped. "Dobby has angered Harry Potter, sir." He looked around before grabbing Mrs. Norris and proceeding to beat himself with her.

"Dobby! Stop!" Harry tried franticaly to get the stiff, dead form of Mrs. Norris.

Placing her back in the holder, he head a too familliar, "Oi!"

Filch.

"What do you think you're doing, you-" He cut short. He started stammering and pointing.

"Mrs.-Mrs. Norris?" his eyes welled up.

Harry was unsure of what to do. "If it makes you feel any better, no one liked her. Everyone here will be glad to see her gone," he patted him on the back. Filch looked at him through tear filled eyes. His brows quickly drew together and his face flooded with color not too far from Uncle Vernon's color when he went up a flight of stairs.

"You. You! You killed my cat!" he wraped his hands around Harry's neck.

"Argus!" a voice boomed. Dumbledore, followed by other staff members, had arrived.

"He killed my cat!" Filch cried.

"Tattle-tale," Hermione hissed.

"No! I didn't kill his cat! I found her like that. She was in the bracket and Dobby appeared out of no where and was upset and starting himself in the head with her and I tried to grab her back and put here where I found her," Harry explained.

"Maybe so!" Filch screeched, "But you killed her and put her there in the first place!"

"If I may, Headmaster," Snape stepped forward, a spotlight shone done, casting a dramatic shadow over his face. "I don't recall seeing Potter at dinner."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Ron interjected.

"I," Snape began, "I don't know..." The spotlight went out as he stepped back.

"Step aside! I can explain." Nearly Headless Nick arrived.

"Why do we need to step aside? Can't you just float through?" Hermione asked. Nick shot her a look and proceeded through. He quickly turned back and entered through Hermione's nose. She started to do a jig, with literal phantom jig music being sung.

"Nicholas!" Dumbledore interrupted. White fog spilled from Hermiones nose and Nick reformed. Ron started laughing.

"I've held that much smoke before," he laughed. Hermione rubbed her nose and avoided eye contact.

"Anyways," Nick adjusted his vest. "As I was saying; Harry, Ron and Hermione were with me. It was my Deathday and I invited them."

Students started to filter into the hall.

"Before a scene arises, everyone clear out. Nothing to see," he called back to the entering students.

Harry was about to head back to the common room with Ron and Hermione when he heard a strange noise. Was something hissing? He looked around, seeing if he could pin point where the sound was coming from. He walked along the wall, his ear pressed against it.

"Sssss...Kill! Kill!" Harry jumped back. Kill? That couldn't be good.

He pressed his ear against the wall again.

"Killed. Killed. Dun-dun-dun."

"Anyone hear that?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione.

"Hear what?" Hermione asked.

"That voice," he pressed against the wall again.

"Voice? What voice?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "The one I'm hearing, obviously, der."

"Harry, even in the Wizarding world, hearing voices isn't a good sign."

"Ya-think?!"

--Harry lay in bed that night mulling over what he had heard. How come no one else heard it? Or did they really not hear it. Were they just throwing him for a loop? Deciding to worry about it later, he took out a piece of spare parchment and his quill and began to write lines:

Voldemort is up to something

Voldemort is up to something

Voldemort is up to something...