Hello fellow fanfiction writers and readers, here is another chapter of this story that I hope you guys will enjoy. As usual I own nothing except new characters and ideas, I make no money from writing, and all rights go to the rightful owners. Thanks for reading, please leave a review!

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spat of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepper up potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Not that I minded, it helped wake me up. This was by far my favorite month; summer was gone and fall arrived. The Garden was decorated as well, the portraits covered in synthetic cob webs much to Salazar's dismay who had a fear of spiders.

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. Flint's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why I was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to the dungeons, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud. Avery was muttering curse words under her breath all aimed at a worried Flint, he wanted to go pro at this so he would drag us all kicking and screaming.

I say, "I swear Charlie, he has to be watching me if he cared so bloody much. You think he would have told my Aunt to bugger off." my sentence was drowned out by a high-pitched mewling from somewhere near my ankles. Looking down and found us gazing into a pair of lamp-like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris, the skeletal gray cat who was used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy in his endless battle against students.

"You'd better get out of here, Juliet." 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. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place-"

I mutter, "Right." backing away with Avery away from the accusing stare of Mrs. Norris.

By the time Halloween arrived, I was regretting the promise to go to the death day party. The rest of the 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 rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

"A promise is a promise." Hermione reminded me bossily. "You said you'd go to the death day party."

She was right, a Black was a person of their word, I would not enjoy this but again it was my duty to go.

Avery and Daphne are coming as well, Hermione said Ronald and Harry will also be there, Nick roped Harry and he in turn made sure Mione and Ronald are going with him.

So, at seven o'clock found us together as we walked straight past the doorway to the packed Great Hall, which was glittering invitingly with gold plates and candles, and directed our steps instead toward the dungeons. We would stay long enough to be polite then I was gone, I was hungry and if my own presence was missed at dinner a certain teacher would be on the hunt.

The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party had been lined with candles too, though the effect was far from cheerful; these were long, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light even over our own living faces. The temperature dropped with every step they took. Avery shivered and drew her robes tightly around her body, we heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered. We turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

"Maybe, what do you consider music?" Harry smiled seeing us behind them, Mione took her place with us as Ron look flustered.

"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome... so pleased you could come..."

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer.

"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested, looking as if he might start shivering from the cold.

"Careful not to walk through anyone." said Ron nervously, we set off around the edge of the dance floor. We passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, a cheerful Hufflepuff ghost who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. I wasn't surprised to see that the Bloody Baron, a gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver bloodstains, was being given a wide berth by the other ghosts.

Barron bowed, "Lady Black."

"Barron, a pleasure seeing you supporting Nick." I smiled, my long black hair getting in my bloody way.

Once out of ear shot I mutter, "Only staying long enough to be polite."

On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. We approached it eagerly but in the next moment we were frozen in horror. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mold and, in pride of place, an enormous gray cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words,

SIR NICHOLAS DE MIMSY-PORPINGTON

DIED 31ST OCTOBER, 1492

I watched, amazed, and disgusted, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.

"Can you taste it if you walk though it?" Harry asked him.

"Almost." said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.

"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor." said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.

"Can we move? I feel sick." said Daphne, my stomach was churning and bile was rising.

We had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in midair before them.

"Hello, Peeves." Avery greeted him cautiously.

Unlike the ghosts around us, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow tie, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.

Peeve's liked having a go at Hermione since Hermione and myself didn't much like Moaning Myrtle, she was a sobbing mess in the girl's loo; no one ever went inside it because of her. Look you died it was horrible but no use sobbing about it for the next century; have some fun with it.

I called, "Leave Peeves, before I either get the Barron or my Grandmother, pick your bloody poison." he vanished muttering curse words, ever since he dropped water on me my first year, I vowed to banish him.

Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly; Harry started to clap, too, but stopped quickly at the sight of Nick's face and the fact I slapped the back of his head.

The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging. At the front of the pack was a large ghost who held his bearded head under his arm, from which position he was blowing the horn. The ghost leapt down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd (everyone laughed), and strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck.

"Nick!" he roared. "How are you? Head still hanging in there?"

He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder.

"Welcome, Patrick." said Nick stiffly.

"Live 'uns!" said Sir Patrick, spotting Harry, Avery, Ron, Daphne, Hermione, and I and giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again (the crowd howled with laughter).

I smiled, "Very amusing." my tone dark.

"Don't mind Nick!" shouted Sir Patrick's head from the floor. "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say - look at the fellow-"

"I think." said Harry hurriedly, at a meaningful look from Nick, "Nick's very - frightening and - err-"

"Ha!" yelled Sir Patrick's head.

"Bet he asked you to say that!"

"If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!" said Nearly Headless Nick loudly, striding toward the podium and climbing into an icy blue spotlight.

"My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow..."

But nobody heard much more. Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunt had just started a game of Head Hockey and the crowd were turning to watch. Nearly Headless Nick tried vainly to recapture his audience, but gave up as Sir Patrick's head went sailing past him to loud cheers.

With a wave of my wand and a spell muttered under my breath from a book given to me by Slytherin himself, green fire wrapped around every ghost who dared laugh, dared ignore Nick on his day.

Surprised faces, shrill screams where heard, "You come here to his death day party, you dance, you laugh, you fake eat that rotted food and you whisper about him, laugh at these fools. You should be ashamed of yourselves, Sir Patrick you are a loathsome ghost; the only thing people remember about you is you lost your bloody head. Now ask others who is more well remembered Nick or yourself and then you will see whom the better ghost is. Leave!" that spell was able to hurt ghost, it was long ago forgotten. They did just that and many went and gave their apologies as Nick started to give his grand speech.

I was very cold by now, not to mention hungry.

"I can't stand much more of this." Ron muttered, his teeth chattering, as the orchestra ground back into action and the ghosts swept back onto the dance floor.

"Let's go." Harry agreed, with that we all left, to get warm and eat some real food.

"... rip... tear... kill..." I slammed to a halt with Harry our eyes wide, we are hearing the same in human voice.

"What're you -?"

"It's that voice again - shut up a minute-" I snapped, my girls knew I had heard something

"... soo hungry... for so long..."

"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and Ron and Hermione froze, watching him. Avery pulled her wand as did Daphne, I too hand mine out; this was not human.

"... kill... time to kill..."

The voice was growing fainter. I was sure it was moving away - moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped me as Harry and I stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?

"This way." he shouted, and he 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. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, I was right behind him with Avery, Ron, Daphne and Hermione clattering behind us.

"Harry, what're we-"

"SHH!"

Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, we heard the voice: "... I smell blood... I SMELL BLOOD!"

My stomach lurched-

"It's going to kill someone!" I shouted, ignoring bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over their own pounding footsteps - Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, I nearly slammed into him with Ron, Avery, Daphne, and Mione panting behind us, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

"Harry, what was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything..."

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

"Look!"

Something was shining on the wall ahead. We 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 Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As we edged nearer, Harry almost slipped - there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All of us 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.

For a few seconds, we didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we try and help -" Mione began awkwardly.

"Trust me." said Ron. "We don't want to be found here."

But it was too late.

"Take Mione and go now." Avery and Daphne dragged her into a nearby classroom, now it left Ron, Harry, and I to deal with the incoming crowd.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat.