For a moment, they all just stare at the game sitting on the forest floor of the corridor. After looking at each other several times, Parvati says, "Do you think we should find somewhere else to play?"

"Where else can we go?" Dean asks. "There's no place in the castle that's safe, really. We might as well just play it right here, rather than wasting time moving somewhere else."

"I guess you're right," Parvati says.

They all sit down, trying to find comfortable positions among the uneven terrain. Parvati reaches out and opens up the game board, picking up the dice. With a deep breath, she rolls the dice. But nothing happens. The crocodile token stands still in place, and nothing appears in the center. All four of them look confused. "What's it playing at?" Seamus asks.

"Try again," Dean says to Parvati.

She rolls once again, but it has no effect. "Did I do something wrong?" she asks tentatively.

"Oh, wait, I know what's wrong," Seamus says, looking at one of the flaps. "It says it right here in the rules. 'Doubles gets another turn.' I rolled two twos, so that means I have to go again."

"Ooohh, I see," she says, handing Seamus the dice.

Before rolling, Seamus counts the number of spaces left between the monkey token and the center. "I've got eighteen spaces left. Here's hoping for a twelve." Letting go of the dice, they land up on a one and a four, closing the distance between the piece and the end by five spaces. All of them lean forward as the most dreadful part of any turn begins to appear.

Grab your knife
Grab your fork
Tonight they're serving
fresh long pork.

This one may just be the most puzzling one yet. "What's 'long pork?'" Seamus asks.

"I think I had some long pork when I went on holiday in Spain a few years ago," Lavender says. "Though, I can't remember exactly what it tastes like."

"So what, is the game breaking for lunch?" Parvati asks.

"I could do with some lunch," Seamus says, rubbing his stomach with his left hand. "I'm starving, and it's way past lunch time anyway."

Dean rolls his eyes at Seamus. "I seriously doubt the game is going to feed us lunch."

"But then, what does it mean?" Lavender asks anxiously.

"Wait, shut up you lot," Seamus says, holding up his hands.

Dean isn't sure at first why Seamus has asked them to shut up. He expects that Seamus might have heard something, but as he strains his hears, he nears nothing but the quiet of the jungle in the corridor. So fixated on sound, it takes Dean awhile for his other senses to kick in, particularly smell. A distinct scent wafts down the hall, carrying a strong smoky odor to it. Sniffing the air, Dean asks, "What is that?"

"Mmmmm," Seamus says softly. "Smells like a roast!"

Before anyone can say anything else, Seamus gets to his feet and follows the smell down the corridor. "Wait!" Dean says, getting up to follow him, but Seamus ignores him. Once Seamus reaches the end of the corridor, the turns left and goes down a flight of stairs. "Get back here, you stupid git!" Dean shouts back at him. When it becomes plain that Seamus will not listen, Dean turns to the girls and says, "Come on, let's follow him. I'll take the game." He closes the flaps and picks up the game board as the three of them catch up with Seamus.

They find him standing by a corner, peering around at something in the next corridor. When she reaches him, Lavender smacks the back of his head. "You idiot!" she says, as he nurses his sandy hair, "Didn't you just get through saying that we need to stick together?"

"Sorry," Seamus says. "I'm just so hungry! I wasn't thinking."

"That much is clear," Parvati says, folding her arms.

"But take a look at this!" Seamus says, waving them to look around the corner with him.

When they do, all four of them see a huge, round, bubbling pot sitting in the middle of a the hallway, a fire burning quietly below. Far larger than the cauldrons they use during potions lessons, this pot looks large enough for a grown man to sit in. By all appearances, it looks as if it's been sitting there for hours. Steam drifts lazily from the top as brown bubbles pop when the reach the surface. Based on both the color and the smell, all four of them figure that it's some kind of stew. What looks like the handle of a ladle is sticking out over the rim of the pot.

All Dean can manage to say is, "What?"

"Maybe the game really is giving us a lunch break!" Seamus says hopefully, his eyes wide at the sight of the pot.

"Don't be daft," Dean says, "why would it do that?"

"Well, it wants us to play it right?" Seamus says. "And we can't play on an empty stomach after all."

"You're mental!" Dean says, unable to stop himself from laughing at Seamus' on-the-spot rationalization.

"No, really, it makes sense!" Seamus persists.

"It really doesn't…" Parvati says.

Seamus ignores her. "The game let you more forward twice as much last turn," Seamus says.

"Only by putting Dumbledore to sleep!" Dean says. "The game doesn't give without taking something, haven' t you been paying attention?"

But Seamus still doesn't seem to be paying any attention. "It smells so good…" he says wistfully.

"If you're thinking of actually eating any of that stuff, you've got fewer brains than a flobberworm," Lavender says dismissively.

"Oh come on," Seamus says growing frustrated. "I dare any one of you to tell me that doesn't smell delicious."

"That's not the point!" Parvati says. "You don't know what it is! What if it's poisoned?"

"Oh now you're just being paranoid," Seamus says, not even looking at her.

"Really?" Dean asks incredulously. "This is the same game that trapped the entire castle in a jungle, flooded the dungeons and set a hippo on us in the Entrance Hall, wrecked Dumbledore's office with a bunch of monkeys, and almost killed me with a pack of hyenas! I don't think it's too much to think that stew isn't safe."

"Oh please," Seamus says, waving him off. "Just…just one little taste couldn't hurt…" he says, beginning to move toward the boiling pot.

"Seamus, get your pale, bony, freckled arse back here, or I will curse you all the way to the seventh year!" Dean hisses threateningly.

Seamus doesn't react, instead continuing to walk steadily in the direction of the steaming stew. Dean's threat proves empty, as Seamus makes it to the edge of the pot, peering over the rim into the bubbling mixture below. He can feel the warm air rising into his face, carrying the scent of warm, fresh meat into his nostrils. The churning, gurgling sensation in his belly intensifies. Finally, when he can bear it no longer, he picks up the wooden ladle sitting in the stew, and raises it up, seeing a single chunk of meat sitting in the dish. Licking his lips in preparation, Seamus blows on it, the steam dissipating with his breath. Bringing the edge up to his lips, he allows a tiny trickle of the stew to gently grace his tongue. "Mmmm!" Seamus says, a hot, savory flavor coursing over his taste buds. Trying to be mindful of its high temperature, Seamus takes a few more sips of the stew before finally wrapping his lips around the hunk of meat, and bringing it inside his mouth. Once the meat is chewed and swallowed, Seamus calls back at the other three, "This stew is brilliant! You lot gotta try some!"

Not one of them can believe what they've just seen. Lavender covers her mouth with her hands in horror. Parvati's mouth hangs low, her eyes looking stupefied. Dean cradles his face in his hands. As they look on in sheer disbelief as Seamus takes in more mouthfuls of stew, as if he'd never eaten anything before in his life.

"I…can't watch this," Lavender says, starting to turn greenish yellow in the fire light. Dean doesn't blame her in the least. But when Lavender turns around, she gives a small, startled scream, causing both Dean and Parvati to turn around as well.

Standing out in a line are 9 human figures, each one over 7 feet tall. Some of them have skin as black as midnight, while others are shine alabaster. Lean and muscular, they are dressed in a mixture of hard wooden plating on their chests, forearms, and shins, as well as tangled black fibers that look almost like human hair from a distance. Each one is carrying a spear as long as they are all tall, all tipped in round, heavy clubs tipped in ferocious spikes. They grip the spears with hands bearing, long, grasping fingers tipped with broken, dirty nails. The same is true of their toes, since they walk barefoot. They are all wearing flat wooden masks, each one with a different face painted in what Dean desperately hopes is dark red paint. All of the faces look horrified, like the last face a person makes before they are rendered limb from limb. The only exception is the one dead center. He has a hole in his masked carved out over his mouth, allowing them to see his fat, red lips, and his broken, chipped, blackened teeth. Around all of their necks are several necklaces bearing stone charms, beads, bones…and human toes.

In a faint whisper, Dean says, "I think I just realized what 'long pork' is…"

Without speaking, the figure whose mouth is visible steps forward, taking his spear in both hands. His strides are long an purposeful, and he closes the distance between them quickly. As he gets closer, he raises his spear, in preparation to attack. Without thinking, Dean points his wand up toward the spear and cries out, "Diffindo!"

The severing charm cuts right through the wooden spear, the lethal tip falling to the ground. The spearman pauses, taking a moment to look at his broken weapon. More than anything, this has the effect of making him angrier, causing him to snarl viciously.

"Run!" Dean shouts, and all three of them turn around and bolt in the opposite direction. Seamus, who had only just looked up from the stew, quickly realizes what's going on and joins the others as they flee down the corridor. While the students have the advantage of familiarity on their side, knowing their way around the castle fairly well, the hunters have the advantage of long legs and powerful muscles, propelling them swiftly over the uneven terrain of the root-covered floor. Even in barefoot, they seem unfettered by the extraneous plant matter littering the forest floor.

Bursting through a door, they find themselves on the great stair case. "Come on," Dean says, "Let's try to lose them on the stairs." They descend the staircases, hoping to catch one as it begins to shift to another position. The group of hunters keeps pace with the, bounding down stairs multiple steps at a time.

Four sets of stairs down, they get a break. As the last one of the group makes it onto the steps, it shudders slightly before swinging to the right, tearing through a few vines tying it to its current level. As the staircase moves away from the hunters, they stand silently at the precipice, watching their quarry get away.

"See ya later, ya bunch of geebags!" Seamus calls back smugly as they move farther from their pursuers.

The lead hunter takes a few steps backward, stopping in place about fifteen feet from the edge. Then, springing forward, he bounds forward with great strides before leaping off the edge toward the moving stairs. They hope he will miss them, but there is no such luck – he lands on the upper part of the stairs away from them

Dean turns to Seamus and says, "I hate you."

The leader is joined by his comrades one by one as the staircase settles to its new position. Dean, Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender race into the next corridor, hoping to find some other way to lose the hunters.

But as they twist around several hallways, the come to a dead end – a solid wall with a hanging tapestry of a knight fighting a manticore. A cold shock striking their hearts, they turn around with horrified expressions to see the nine hunters standing in front of them, brandishing their weapons with furious excitement. They charge forward- only to stop just a few steps later.

At first, none of the are sure why they've stopped. But then, something sound from behind them: a horrible, agonized wailing, combined with a frantic shaking of large chains. When they turn around, the four Gryfinidors see none other than the Bloody Baron – the Slytherin House Ghost – floating angrily through the wall behind them toward the attacking hunters. Even to Dean and the others, he looks positively horrifying. His gaunt, sunken face bears a pair of eyes that lack and signs of warmth or life. Silver blood stains run all the way down his grey, transparent form. Shaking the chains strapped to his body, he creates a tremendous ruckus that seems to spook even the savage hunters.

"Wait!" they hear a voice call from behind them. Turning to look, they see another ghost – Sir Nicholas De Mimsy Propington, the Gryffindor House Ghost. At first glance, he is significantly less frightening than the Bloody Baron, dressed in foppish ruffs and a puffy shirt. But he soon lives up to his nickname of Nearly-Headless-Nick when his head falls off of his shoulders, tethered there by a thin piece of skin. The hole underneath reveals the blood, muscles, and spine within.

This apparently is too much for the hunters, who cower at the sight of the two spirits before running off back where they came.

"I say," Nick says, setting his almost-severed head back in place, "what was that all about?"

"Lucky thing you two showed up," Dean says, breathing heavily in relief.

"What are you four doing running about the school?" Nick asks in clear disapproval. "I trust you notice what's been going on?"

"Yeah, we noticed," Seamus says sardonically.

"You should join the rest of the students," Nick says. "They are currently all together in the middle courtyard with the staff for protection."

"We can't do that," Dean says. "We have to stay on our own."

"What?!" Nick says looking horror-struck. "Why?"

"It's a long story," Dean says. "We're working on fixing everything, but we can't have any help. If anyone tries to help us, they might be put in danger."

This information appears to only confuse Nick, who stutters a bit before continuing. "What? Fix everything? But why should the burden of fixing things fall on you?"

"Because we're the ones who messed everything up," Seamus says guiltily.

"But surely, the Headmaster-" Nick begins.

But Lavender cuts him off. "Professor Dumbledore's asleep."

"Well, wake him up then!" Nick says growing frustrated from all the confusion. "This hardly seems like the best time for an afternoon nap."

"We can't wake him up," Dean says. "It's part of a curse. He tried to help us, and he was put to sleep by a curse."

Nick grows so confused that his head once more falls off its place, and he quickly straighten himself out again. "But I don't-…wha-..I-you…what was he trying to help you do?"

"He was trying to help us undo the curse and put the castle back to normal," Parvati says.

"Are you really telling me that you four are responsible for all of this?" Nick asks disbelievingly.

"Yup," Seamus says, almost as if he'd proud of what they've done.

"Oh dear," Nick says, putting his hand very delicately on his forehead.

"What are you and the Bloody Baron doing up here?" Seamus asks, his flitting briefly to the menacing specter hovering to Nick's left.

"Professor McGonagall sent us to find the Headmaster," Nick says.

"He's in his office, asleep," Parvati says. "He's alright, or….well, he seems to be at least."

"Hmm….oh very well then," Nick says. "I suppose we had better report back to the Deputy Headmistress."

"When you do," Dean says, "Tell Professor McGonagall we're alright, and we're getting closer to solving the problem."

"I certainly hope so" he says. And without another word, he drifts effortlessly back through the wall. The Bloody Baron considers the four students for a moment before following Nick, leaving them alone once more.