The Deathday Party
October had finally arrived, which spread a damp and cold chill over the school grounds and into the castle itself.
The matron of the school, Madam Pomfrey, was busy thanks to the spike of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup Potion would be her go to as it worked instantly, though it did leave whoever drank it to have smoke coming out of their ears for several hours afterwards.
Mary Merlon, who's been looking a bit off lately, was persuaded by Sam to take some of the potion. There was steam pouring out from under her silver hair, making her look like her head was covered in embering ashes.
There were raindrops the size of bullets that thundered on the many castle windows for days on end. The lake also rose and the flowerbeds became muddy streams. Hagrid's pumpkins also swelled to the size of garden sheds.
And there's Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions. They weren't dampened at all, which was why Arthur was found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Hallowe'en arrives, making his way to Gryffindor Tower, completely drenched to the skin, his uniform clinging to him and splattered with mud as well.
Excluding the rain and mud, the practice session was already miserable. Both Jack and Kevin spied on the Slytherin team and saw for themselves the speed of the Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. They described the Slytherin team to be seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air at an incredibly fast speed.
Arthur was squelching along a deserted corridor when he met with someone who looked just as preoccupied as he was. Nearly Headless Nick was looking around. He wore a plumed hat on his long curly hair and a tunic with a ruff, which concealed how his neck was nearly completely severed. He was also pale as smoke and Arthur could see through him to the dark sky and torrential rain outside.
"You look troubled, young Pendergast." Nick said, folding what looked like a transparent letter as he spoke and tucked it inside his doublet.
"Same can be said about you." Arthur replied.
"Ah." Nearly Headless Nick said, waving 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'." Arthur noticed the look of bitterness on the ghost's face.
"But you would think, wouldn't you…" Nick then suddenly erupted, shocking Arthur a bit, as he pulled 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?"
"Uh…." Arthur didn't really know what to say.
"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had 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…" Nick shook his letter open and read it aloud 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."
Nick then stuffed his letter away furiously.
"Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Arthur! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore."
Nick then took some deep breaths before he'd speak again, this time in a calmer tone.
"So, what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"
"Not really, unless you know where we can find seven Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for our match against-"
His sentence was drowned out from a high pitched meowing from around his ankles. His eyes widened in horror before he looked down and gazed into a pair of lamp-like red eyes. Mrs Norris, the skeletal grey cat used by Filch was like a deputy in his battle against the students.
"You'd better get out of here, Arthur. Filch isn't in a good mood. He's got flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five; he's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place…." Nick said quickly.
"Got it." Arthur replied, backing off from the accusing stare Mrs Norris was giving him. However, before he could make it far, Filch burst out through a tapestry to Arthur's right, wheezing and looking wildly around for the rule breaker. He had a thick tartan scarf around his head and his nose was oddly purple.
"Filth!" He shouted, jowls quivering, eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that dripped from Arthur's uniform. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Pendergast!"
With that, Arthur waved hollowly to Nick as he followed Filch back downstairs, which doubled the number of muddy footprints on the floor.
Having known that it was somewhere students tried avoiding as much as possible, he'd never seen the inside of Filch's office. It was dingy and lacked any windows, being only lit by a single oil lamp from the low ceiling. There was also the faint smell of fried fish, probably food for Mrs Norris. There were also wooden filing cabinets standing around the walls; from the labels, Arthur saw that they contained details of many different students that Filch had punished, with Jack and Kevin Merlon having an entire drawer to themselves.
And Arthur was disturbed to see a highly polished collection of chains and manacles hanging on the wall behind FIlch's desk. It was well known that he had been begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.
Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and had begun shuffling around 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 had retrieved a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched it out in front of him, dipping the long black quill into his ink pot.
"Name… Arthur Pendergast. Crime…."
"For goodness sake, it was just a bit of mud!" Arthur groaned, questioning the fact that he's being treated like a criminal.
"It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's an extra hour scrubbing!" Filch shouted at him with a drip shivering at the end of his nose. "Crime… befouling the castle… suggested sentence…."
Filch dabbed his streaming nose, squinting unpleasantly at Arthur, who glared back, questioning how this guy is even working here considering how sadistic he is.
As Filch lowered his quill, there was a great and loud BANG! on the ceiling of the office, making the oil lamp rattle.
"PEEVES!" Filch roared at the top of his lungs, flinging his quill away in a rage. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"
Without even making a backwards glance at Arthur, he ran flatfooted from his office with Mrs Norris by his side.
Peeves was the resident poltergeist. He's a grinning, airborne menace whose sole purpose is to wreak havoc and distress. Arthur never liked Peeves but for the first time, he was grateful to him right now. Arthur just hoped that whatever the poltergeist did distracted Filch from him as it sounded like he wrecked something very big.
Ultimately deciding that he should just wait for Filch to come back, Arthur sank into a moth-eaten chair that stood next to the desk. There was only a large, glossy purple envelope with silver lettering on the front aside from Filch's half completed form.
Making a quick glance at the door to make sure Filch wasn't on his way back, Arthur picked it up and read:
Kwikspell
A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic
This intrigued him enough that he opened up the envelope and pulled out the sheaf of parchment inside it. There was more curly silver writing on the front page:
Feel out of step in the world of modern magic?
Find yourself making excuses not to perform simple spells?
Even been taunted for your woeful wandwork?
There is an answer!
Kwikspell is an all new, failsafe, quick result, easy learn course. Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefited from the Kwikspell method!
Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes:
"I had no memory for incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now, after a Kwikspell course, I am the centre of attention at parties and friends beg for the recipe of my Scintillation Solution!"
Warlock D.J. Prod of Didsbury says:
"My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!"
This all intrigued Arthur to the point that he looked through the other contents of the envelope. Why would Filch want a Kwikspell course when he hates the students and probably the staff? Is it because he's not a proper wizard? He was just reading 'Lesson One: Holding Your Wand (Some Useful Tips)' when he heard shuffling footsteps outside, which told him that Filch was coming back.
Arthur stuffed the parchment back into the envelope and placed it back exactly where he found it knowing Filch would suspect he read it. And he did it just in time as the door opened.
Filch seemed to look triumphant.
"That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable!" He said with glee to Mrs Norris. "We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet."
His eyes then landed on Arthur before darting to the Kwikspell envelope as Arthur sat next to it.
Filch's usual pasty face went brick red, making Arthur brace himself for a wave of fury coming his way. Filch hobbled across to the desk and grabbed the envelope before throwing it into a drawer.
"Have you - did you read -?"
"I haven't. I was just sitting down and it happened to be next to me." Arthur lied, rather convincingly, much to his relief.
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…."
Arthur stared at him, alarmed, as Filch has never looked this mad before. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his cheeks and the scarf didn't help.
"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…."
Shocked at his luck, Arthur sped out of the office and up a corridor and then back downstairs. It had to be a new record at the school to leave Filch's office without any form of punishment.
"Arthur! Arthur! Did it work?" Nearly Headless Nick glided out of a classroom. Behind him, he could see a 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. Thought it might distract him-"
"Wait, that was you? It worked! I managed to evade detention. Thanks, Nick!" Arthur said gratefully.
The two went off down the corridor together. Arthur noticed that Nick was still holding the rejection letter.
"I'm sorry about not being able to join the Headless Hunt. I wish there was something I could do." He apologised, genuinely feeling bad for him.
Nick suddenly stopped in his tracks, making Arthur walk through him, this time, knowing that it felt like stepping through a cold shower, he expected it/
"But there is something you could do for me." Nick said excitedly. "Arthur, would I be asking too much, but no, you wouldn't want-"
"What, exactly?"
"Well, this Hallowe'en will be my five hundredth deathday." Nick said, drawing himself up, dignified.
"Huh…." Arthur said, once more unsure of what to say as he didn't know whether to look sorry or happy about it.
"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 Merlon and Miss Ranger would be most welcome too, of course. But I dare say you'd rather go to the school feast?" He watched Arthur on tenterhooks.
"Oh, no, I'll come." Arthur assured him, knowing that both David and Chrys wouldn't be too thrilled though he felt that a good compromise would be to get some food from the feast before going to the Deathday Party.
"My dear boy! Arthur Pendergast, at my Deathday Party! And…" He hesitated, looking excited. "...do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?"
"Sure…."
Nearly Headless Nick beamed at him.
"Really? A Deathday Party?" Chrys asked curiously after Arthur had changed finally and joined her and David in the common room. "There may not be that many living people who've been to any of those."
"I personally find it odd that anyone would celebrate the day they died." David said as he was busy with his Potions homework. "Plus it sounds depressing."
"I know you two may not like the idea but if you, David, could get some food from the feast before we go down there, that should make it tolerable." Arthur suggested.
Rain smacked hard against the windows, being inky black in comparison to the bright and cheerful inside.
The firelight glowed over the many squashy armchairs and the couch in front of the fire where people sat doing things like reading, talking, doing homework or, in the case of Jack and Kevin, figuring out what happens if you feed a Filibuster Firework to a Salamander. Jack said that he rescued the brilliant orange, fire-dwelling lizard from a Care of Magical Creatures class and it was smouldering gently on a table that was surrounded by some curious people.
The Salamander then suddenly whizzed into the air, emitting some loud sparks and bangs, whirling around the room wildly. Sam tried to ask for it all to stop as tangerine starts showering from the Salamander's mouth before escaping into the fire with accompanying explosions.
When the Hallowe'en feast finally arrived, the trio were prepared for whatever the Deathday Party had to offer.
David did indeed go ahead and grabbed some food as well as bottles of pumpkin juice for them when they met up in the Entrance Hall. They had to ignore the decorations of live bats and Hagrid's vast pumpkins which were carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in and there were also dancing skeletons.
"We made a promise and we have to keep it." Chrys reminded them as at seven o'clock, they walked past the doorway to the packed Great Hall and headed down towards the dungeons.
The passageway that led to Nick's party was lined with candles, though the effect wasn't as cheerful as the Great Hall as these were long, thin, jet black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting dim, ghostly lights even over their faces.
The temperature also seemed to drop the further they went down the passageway. As Arthur shivered and pulled his robes tighter around him, he heard what he had to describe as a thousand fingernails scraping over a large blackboard.
"If that is music, ghosts really need to have a reminder." David whispered before they turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with some black velvet drapes.
"My dear friends, welcome, welcome… so pleased you could come…." He said, sounding mournful before he swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.
It was one hell of a sight. The dungeon was filled with hundreds of pearly white, translucent people that all mostly drifted around a very crowded dance floor, waltzing to a dreadful and quavering sound of thirty magical saws, which were played on a black draped platform.
Arthur noticed that there was a chandelier overhead and blazed midnight blue with more black candles.
The three were able to see their breaths, which looked like mist as they felt like they were stepping into a freezer.
"Let's have our food and drink first." Arthur said, wanting to have them before they may end up losing their appetites. And so they quickly ate the food they had and downed the bottles of pumpkin juice before they joined and mingled in the party.
"Let's just be careful not to walk through any of them." David said nervously as they around the edge of the dance floor. They passed by a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains and the Fat Friar, who was a rather cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight that had an arrow sticking out of his forehead, which left Arthur speechless.
Arthur wasn't all that surprised, though, to see that the Bloody Baron, a gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost that was stained in silver bloodstains, was given a wide berth from the other ghosts. He also stared longingly at who Arthur knew was the Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost.
"Oh no… can't we turn back around? I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle-"
"Who?" Arthur asked as they've backtracked.
"She haunts the girls' toilet on the first floor." She explained.
"Really?" David questioned the idea of haunting a toilet.
"Yeah. Because of her having tantrums and flooding the place, it's been out of order all year. I don't normally go there." Chyrs said, wordlessly expressing that she finds it miserable.
"Hey, is that food?" David then said, pointing at a long table on the other side of the dungeon, covered in black velvet.
As they approached it, they were glad to have bought food with them and ate it before mingling with the ghosts. The smell was so disgusting. There were large, rotten fish laid out on handsome silver platters; cakes that were burned charcoal black, were heaped on salvers; great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese that was covered in furry green mould and an enormous grey cake in the shape of a tombstone with tar-like icing which formed the words:
Sir Nicholas de Mimsey-Porpington
died 31st October, 1492
The whole sight, along with the smell, made Arthur feel like he might throw up as he watched a portly ghost approach the table, crouched low and walked through the table, mouth wide open to pass through a stinking salmon.
"Do you taste it if you walk through it?" He asked the ghost.
"Almost." The ghost replied sadly before drifting away.
"The rotting food must have a stronger flavour." Chrys said as she pinched her nose and leaned to look at the awful haggis.
"Can we please move on? I'm feeling sick." David moaned.
But before they could walk away, a little man swooped in suddenly from under the table and to a halt in mid air before them.
"Hi, Peeves." Arthur greeted him carefully.
Unlike a lot of the other ghosts, Peeves the poltergeist was totally not pale and transparent. He wore a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow tie and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.
"Nibbles?" He asked them sweetly, offering a bowl of peanuts that are covered in fungus.
"No thanks." Chrys said.
"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle. Rude you was about poor Myrtle." Peeves said, eyes dancing before taking a deep breath and bellowing "OY! MYRTLE!"
"Peeves! Do I need to get the Bloody Baron to come over and make you shut - Oh, hi, Myrtle."
The ghost of a squat looking girl glided over to them. She had to have had the glummest face Arthur had ever seen, which was half hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles.
"What?" She asked sulkily.
"Hello, Myrtle. Nice to see you out of the toilet." Chrys said, trying her best to sound bright.
"Miss Ranger was just talking about you -" Peeves said slyly in Myrtle's ear.
"Are you really trusting a trickster poltergeist who makes stuff up?" Chrys retorted. This however, caused Myrtle to eye her suspiciously.
"You're making fun of me." She said as silver tears started welling up in her small, see through eyes.
"I didn't even say anything bad about you." Chrys said, exasperated.
"Don't lie to me." Myrtle gasped as her tears now flooded down her face, making Peeves chuckle happily over her shoulder.
"D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"
"You've missed out 'spotty'." Peeves hissed into her ear, making her burst into anguished sobs and flee from the dungeon. Peeves would shoot after her, pelting her with those mouldy peanuts, yelling "Spotty! Spotty!"
"Oh, boy." Chrys said sadly, face palming.
Nearly Headless Nick then drifted towards them through the crowd.
"Enjoying yourselves?" He asked the trio.
"Yeah." They lied as it turned out to be not as good as they hoped.
"Not a bad turnout." He said proudly. "The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent…. It's nearly time for my speech, I'd better go and warm the orchestra…."
The orchestra, though, stopped playing at that very moment. Everyone fell silent in the dungeon, looking around in excitement as a hunting horn filled the air.
"Oh, here we go." Nick said bitterly.
Through a dungeon wall came a dozen ghost horses bursting through, each ridden by a headless horseman. The whole assembly clapped but the trio didn't as this was the Headless Hunt troupe.
The horses all galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging. One large ghost at the front, whose bearded head was under his arm, blew the horn, leapt down and lifted his head high in the air to see over the crowd (everyone laughing except the trio) before striding over to Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck.
"Nick! How are you? Head still hanging in there?" He roared theatrically.
"Welcome, Patrick." Nick said stiffly. Arthur remembered Nick ranting about him and after finally seeing him, he could see why. He did seem pompous.
"Live 'uns!" Patrick said, spotting Arthur, David and Chrys, giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment, making his head fall off again (the crowd howling with laughter).
"Very amusing." Nick said darkly, seeing what he intended.
"Don't mind Nick!" Patrick's head shouted from the floor. "Still upset we won't let him join the Headless Hunt! But I mean to say - look at the fellow -"
"Yeah, well… if his head is hanging, he looks frightening." Arthur retorted, being honest as he did look frightening if his head was hanging.
"Ha!" Patrick's head yelled. "Bet he asked you to say that!" Arthur rolled his eyes, despite the fact that he was right. But Arthur was being honest.
"If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!" Nick then said loudly, striding to the podium and climbed into an icy blue spotlight.
"My late lamented lords, ladies and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…."
No one didn't even hear much more from him as Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunt started playing a game of Head Hockey, attracting the attention of the crowd. Nick tried in vain to recapture the audience but he then gave up as Sir Patrick's head went sailing past him to loud cheers.
Arthur was so sorry for Nick but he started getting very cold and wanted to go somewhere warm.
"I think it's time we leave." He told the others.
"Yes, please." David said, teeth chattering as the orchestra had sprung back into action and the ghosts all swept back to the dance floor.
"Alright, let's go." Arthur said and so they backed their way to the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked towards them. Then a minute later, they hurried back to the passageway full of black candles.
"I've lost any appetite I might've had for more food." David once they've reached the steps to the Entrance Hall.
But then Arthur felt rage consume him as he heard it again….
"...rip… tear… kill…" The same cold, murderous voice that he first heard in Lockhart's office was back.
He came to a sudden halt, pressing his ear up against the stone wall. The other two noticed this.
"Arthur?"
"Shh. I'm hearing the voice again." He snapped at them, still feeling that rage.
"...soo hungry… for so long…."
"Do you not hear it?" He asked them. They shook their heads, watching him with concern.
"...kill… time to kill…."
The voice seemed to grow fainter, as though whoever or whatever spoke it was moving away. And along with the rage, he felt fear as the being the voice belongs to is wanting to kill. He stared up at the dark ceiling, thinking that it must be moving upwards.
"Come on!" He shouted, running up the stairs into the Entrance Hall, ignored the babble in the Great Hall from the Hallowe'en feast and sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor.
Both David and Chrys chased after him, somewhat struggling to catch up.
"Arthur!"
"SHH!"
From the floor above them, Arthur heard the voice, which was growing fainter still.
"...I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!"
Hearing this made his eyes widen and have his stomach lurch.
"It's gonna kill someone!" He shouted, ignoring David and Chrys' shocked faces as he ran up another flight of stairs three steps at a time, trying hard to listen past his pounding footsteps.
Arthur shot around the whole second floor with David and Chrys panting behind him, not even stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.
"Arthur, we didn't hear anything. What's going on?" David questioned, wiping sweat off his face.
Chrys then made a sudden gasp and pointed down the corridor with a look of pure horror.
"Look!"
There was something shining on the wall ahead of them. When they slowly approached it, squinting through the darkness. There were foot high words daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light that was cast by the flaming torches.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Arthur cringed in horror as he realised that the words were written in blood.
"What is that? Hanging underneath?" David asked, his voice more shaky than normal.
Arthur edged nearer, almost slipping due to there being a large puddle of water on the floor, which confused Arthur a lot. Both David and Chrys grabbed him before he could land on his back.
As they inched forward, their eyes fixed on a dark shadow under the message, they finally realised what it was and all jumped back so far that they would've been impressed if they weren't horrified at this moment.
Mrs Norris, Filch's cat was hanging by her tail from a torch bracket and was as stiff as a board, eyes wide and staring. They stared at her for a few more seconds until….
"We need to get out of here." Arthur told the other two.
"You're right. We don't want to be found here." David agreed with him.
But it was too late. They heard a rumble in the distance, telling them that the feast had ended. And then from either side of the corridor, the sound of hundreds of footsteps climbed up the stairs and then the loud, happy talk of well fed people. And then the next moment, students all crashed into the corridor from both ends.
All of the chatter and bustle all died instantly as the people in front all spotted the hanging cat. Then at the trio, who stood alone in the middle of the corridor as silence fell among all of the students as they all pressed forward to see the awful sight.
Then Draco's voice shouted, ending the quiet.
"Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes live with a dark joy and his normally bloodless face now flushed with a grin at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.
I believe that in the book, the message was written in red paint, but I find it more chilling if it was written in blood, like in the film.