CHAPTER 8: THE GHOST BANQUET
James would have liked to go and shoot some hoops in his free time but something always got in the way. For example, he and Sirius would find Snape's underpants in the laundry room and stick them in their mojo bag and then make a balloon fart in it. Or they would stitch Slughorn's shadow to the wall when he was engaged in conversation with Powers and that day they got off early. Or they would find McGonagall's teacup in the washing up room and get caught sticking it in their mojo bag and making a balloon fart in it.
That was how they came to be made waiters at the annual Halloween ghost banquet.
It looked like every ghost in the land had been invited to the Great Hall that night. The banquet table was full of "nicely" arranged leftovers and the worst local delicacies the foreign world had to offer. Everything smelled of death and looked even worse. Candles kept dying out and flies buzzed everywhere.
James and Sirius looked like such smart and nauseous little waiters, with a tea towel over one arm and everything. They had wax plugs in their noses and ears because a banshee soprano had been hired as entertainment and she was accompanied by nails on a chalkboard and mandrake backup singers.
Apparently they hadn't been able to get Yoko Ono badum tish.
James took a pen from his breast pocket, wrote in his little notepad and showed Sirius:
HOW DO I LOOK?
Sirius wrote in his little notepad, replying:
GREEN. HOW DO I LOOK?
YOU STILL HAVE BITS OF SICK IN YOUR HAIR.
Sirius took his tea towel and began to clean out the bits he had missed. A ghost who looked like an old mediaeval knight rattled his chains and pointed at his empty wine glass. James came over.
"Enjoying your meal, sir?"
Ghost speech could only be heard inside the head. It wasn't entirely unlike eating cold nails too fast.
Can you refill my wine glass, there's a good lad.
"Certainly sir. Red or... less red..."
Red.
James reached for a jug of wine and poured. He didn't know what was in it, except for lumps. He was pretty sure wine wasn't supposed to have lumps. It went splash and plop and... wriggled oh God... His dinner was going to re-repeat on him. He wanted to run back and be sick all over Sirius's hair again.
When! WHEN! You're spilling!
"Sorry!"
The wine glass had been flooding over the rim and onto James's hand. He put down the jug and wiped his hand quickly.
"Anything else?"
He felt a chill pierce through his back and freeze his heart, and jerked around with a gasp. A ghost lady with miserable, droopy cheeks held a brown and mushy Royal Gala with a greyish white crust.
Could you peel this apple for me dear?
She had to be an ancestor of Washing. The apple fell through her hand and collapsed into sauce, just like James's patience with ghosts was collapsing into sauce.
"You're a ghost!" he snapped. "You're not going to eat it!"
Whistler's Mother turned her droopy face to her neighbour.
He says he won't peel the apple for me.
A really butch fellow of a ghost arose.
He won't peel the apple for you?!
Well I never!, cried another.
A ghost further down in a powdered wig and frock coat stood up and spoke indignantly:
Forsythia may not be eating the apple in a conventional sense, but a ghost eats with his memory! Memory and ghost-nose!
So James agreed to peel the apple so they'd all just calm down. He pinched it by the stem.
The stem was all he got.
Turned out it wasn't the stem.
He selected a new apple from a bowl, which was difficult because they were all trying to mush with one another, put it on a plate and began to scrape at it with a knife.
Sirius wasn't having a nicer time. He had to cut the maggoty beef for a super old ghost and then feed it to him. This activity made him gag so badly he threw up the remaining spaghetti he had in him all over the maggoty beef. After that everybody wanted the same thing.
Your friend, came the ghost voice of Forsythia inside James's mind. Wasn't the last headmaster his grandfather?
James began to simply cut thick slices from the side of the apple.
"He was. He's not a ghost, is he?"
Not that I'm aware. Oh how terrible to lose one's grandfather in such a way. They say the circumstances were very mysterious. Nobody knows what happened. But we all know that somebody like professor Nigelle was never going to have a normal death.
She bowed her head mournfully.
"Why not?"
He had many enemies. There were those who found some of his views to be controversial.
"What views did he have?"
He kept the conversation going, hoping the ghost was going to forget about the apple.
He and professor Dumbledore disagreed on so many things.
Professor Nigelle believed in pushing the boundaries of magic, in pursuit of knowledge, so society could advance to everybody's benefit. Professor Dumbledore, on the other hand, believed in being stuck in the same old ways and letting the ministry steal your money. While professor Nigelle wanted Hogwarts to be a model of the real world, professor Dumbledore just wanted the students to read books and not ever get any practical experience. Professor Nigelle was so right when he said that there can never be harmony between dark wizards and white wizards because white wizards will always want to impose their hippie communist totalauthoritarianfascist views on everybody. Knowledge is power, he would say. The best headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen. Or that's how I remember him anyway. How about some top up?
James put the knife down and refilled her glass. The ghost went on:
I think professor Dumbledore always felt threatened by him. When the headmaster before them appointed Nigelle as his deputy headmaster, I think Dumbledore really took a blow to his pride. He really wanted that position and the power that came with it. But despite their differences, Nigelle still made him his deputy headmaster. He was always interested in keeping dialogue open.
Forsythia poured wine through her ghost body, wetting down the bench and the floor. She began to sway slightly. James had been thinking about quidditch.
It was Dumbledore who found the body. It was he who brought the news to his family.
Sirius had managed to get away from the ghosts clamouring for his service by promising to mukbang Stilton and herring and then vomit it on all their plates.
WHAT TIME IS IT NOW?, said his notepad.
They were temporarily distracted by the band announcing a break because one of the mandrakes had stormed out with the banshee's greasy wig.
They took the wax plugs out of their ears.
"What time is it now?"
James checked his watch.
"Eight."
Sirius groaned. Forsythia the ghost leaned past James.
My condolences. Do you still not know what happened to your granddad?
"We've known the whole time," Sirius replied. "Dumbledore killed him."
Forsythia gasped and began to whisper to her ghost friends.
"Surely you can't be serious!" said James.
"I am dead serious."
The crawling hand came back and began to scratch the blackboard. Some ghosts got up to dance, leaving room to sit. James wiped sweat from his face.
"Dumbledore didn't kill your granddad!"
"Um excuse me?" Sirius countered. "Do you know Dumbledore very well?"
"No-"
"Then how can you know anything about who he's killed and who he hasn't killed?"
"The mere idea of it is preposterous!"
"Why is it? Is it because, in your simple mind, only dark wizards kill people?"
"I put it to you! How do YOU know? Tell me how you know. Did you get aurors involved? Was there an investigation and a trial?"
"Why get aurors involved? Keeping it a secret gives us power."
"So what evidence do you have?"
Sirius took a moment to decide whether James could be confided in.
"Dumbledore wanted a ring that my grandad had."
This was getting good.
"Was it a powerful ring?"
"Very powerful. It controls werewolves."
"Wow! A ring that controls werewolves! And Dumbledore killed your granddad to possess it? Why would he do such a thing? Like, is it Dumbledore's secret master plan to control a werewolf army?"
Sirius took another moment to decide whether James was just going to continue being sarcastic.
"Remember how we all had to reply to our admission letter? Apparently some kid's mum was taking a very long time to do just that. And when she finally did, after a lot of reminders and a threat to send the giant, it was to let Dumbledore know that her kid would not be attending. Dumbledore found the message so curious and intriguing he decided to look into it, which he did without EVER telling his own boss about it! Which is all the more shocking when you learn what he found because get this: That kid? Was a werewolf!"
"Your granddad told you about all this?"
"Yes. It doesn't matter if I tell anybody now because he is dead so he can't get in trouble for blabbing about confidential stuff."
"So then what happened?"
"So Dumbledore wanted to keep all that a secret but my granddad found out anyway. And it just might surprise you, what he suggested. He said to Dumbledore, hey, here's a wild idea, what if we accept this kid but make some precautions? Dumbledore was like no way. He said it was too dangerous and against the rules. But my granddad thought it would be totally safe because he had Selene, the ring. He suggested they'd make use of an old cage down in the dungeons. This kid could hang out there and be controlled by the ring and maybe even be taught to read or something and once a week he would be allowed out of the cage and every three months, if he behaved, he would even be allowed fresh air and sunlight for an hour. But Dumbledore was completely against it. He said, nuh-uh, let him out of the cage? Fresh air every three months would be pampering him! But the reality was, he wanted to be the one wearing the ring. But my granddad had made up his mind and he was after all the boss. You probably don't believe he had any goodness in him, being a dark wizard."
"And then what happened?"
"But you'd be wrong, because why else would he be so adamant to go and purchase this kid for a generous sum just so he could have a better life in a much bigger cage here? But of course, Dumbledore was against all that. He was always against my granddad on principle. Some people can be so petty."
Sirius made a long pause here.
"And then what happened?" James asked.
Another pause.
"He was found dead on the grounds here. You know that big willow tree that's always swinging its branches? He was found very near it. He had been pretty badly mangled by it. With one finger missing, too. The finger with Selene. It's the perfect crime. We're supposed to believe he went out for a walk after having too much to drink? Where's the ring? One finger missing, isn't that some coincidence? Somebody arranged it. Who else, if not Dumbledore? And then he did something to the painting, to prevent it from spooning the beans."
That was quite the story. And even though James was completely gullible, he just couldn't believe it.
"See you don't believe me," said Sirius.
Dirty mind reader!
"Look, I wasn't there. I have no way of knowing."
A ghost waved. James saw it before Sirius and made a quick and silent escape under the table. Sirius shivered when the ghost grasped after him.
I quite fancy some of that rotten fish. Could you plate some fish for me? I lost all my teeth. Can you chew it for me also?
The last of his patience went poof. Sirius flew up.
"No way!" he shouted at the ghost. "What's wrong with you all? You're all disgusting! I can't stand you people!"
The nails on the chalkboard stopped screeching. Suddenly it was dead quiet. Every ghost in the room turned around with a demonic face. They were going to gang up on him.
Sirius mumbled a few backhanded apologies but those quickly turned into: Don't touch me!, and: Get off!
Under the table, James spotted a trap door. He opened it and saw steps leading down.
When he could no longer hear insults being hurled at the ghosts he feared that Sirius had been killed by ghosts and had a look.
A large crowd of angry ghosts were hissing and making chilling ghost-grabs at Sirius, who was trapped in the centre of it and looking very unwell. One ghost even had a hand inside his chest. It seemed like he couldn't breathe, his eyes had the glow of death.
James scrambled to his feet, grabbed two wine jugs and splashed wine at the ghosts until they floated away warbling music hall classics.
Sirius lay on the floor collapsed but after a few shakes and a face slap his pulse returned. He woke up with a gasp.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" James gave him the finger.
Sirius sat up and looked at the state of his clothes, which were stained with wine and ectoplasm.
"Oh gross!"
"It's all in a day's work. Now follow me."
They crawled under the table and down the trap door, which took them to the dark underground spaces known as the dungeons.
"Oh God you do stink," said James as they were walking along exploring the place.
"Thanks to you, primrose waft."
They arrived at a tall iron gate. It was open so they stepped inside.
And entered a garden of paradise.
Stars twinkled on an artificial sky. The pleasant air smelled of blossoms. Everything that grew in the garden, grew within the darker lines of a newly planted maze. It wasn't very tall at the moment but once it reached its full height it was going to look spectacular.
James and Sirius could do nothing else but look at the trees and garden decor in quiet wonder.
"I had no idea about this place!" said James. "Did you?"
"No!"
They listened to the tranquil sounds of flowing water and a lone bee buzzing somewhere in a flowery bush, feeling like they had walked in on a yoga session.
Then they discovered that they weren't alone. A bit further away, and past a large granite badger, somebody was walking round and round in a circle, immediately giving off an unnatural vibe.
"Somebody's just walking in a circle over there, look," said Sirius.
They walked closer. The strange kid just kept walking round and round in a circle, head down and taking no notice of them. He was too small to be a student here and there was just something very off about his limbs and overall body structure.
What the chaps had initially mistaken for a giant bush was in fact a shed overgrown with ivy. Somebody was rummaging around in there. Then a pointy hat came out.
"Oh shit it's Dumbledore!"
James and Sirius fled to a nearby gazebo.
Dumbledore came out of the shed with an axe.
They hoped it wasn't for them.
"It is time I did," said Dumbledore, clearly thinking he was alone, "what I should have done a long time ago!"
The weird mystery child was looking up at him innocently. Dumbledore raised the axe and began to bash mercilessly. The child screamed, blood gushed and splattered, and then the screams were...
...no more.
Somewhere an ominous bell chimed.
Breathing heavily, Dumbledore lowered the axe. He took an exhausted step back, wiping sweat and blood from his face.
"What have I done?"
The axe fell out of his hand.
"WHAT HAVE I DONE!"
He paced around like an agitated zoo animal until he managed to pull himself together. He returned the axe to the shed and came out again with a heavy carpet, in which he rolled the child's body. He then chucked the murder burrito in a hole he had prepared earlier.
James's mind was in uproar. He didn't believe what he was seeing.
"I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation."
Sirius stared at him.
"How do you explain that!"
"There can be lots of ways to explain that! Maybe that isn't Dumbledore!"
Dumbledore had just finished filling up the grave when McGonagall turned up, giving him a start.
"Here you are headmaster," came her voice in the dark. "Just what are you doing down here? A wee bit late for gardening wouldn't you say? What are you up to?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing!" he replied, somewhat high-pitched. "Um...Go start playing poker without me. I will... need another minute down here. Just um... lost a thing."
"As you wish." McGonagall gave a slight bow and left.
Dumbledore watched her leave and when she was really gone he rubbed his forehead and went: PHEW!
Sirius gave a Look that plainly said: Well?
"That does not disprove my theory," James argued.
Dumbledore gave the grave some final pats with the shovel before putting it down. He took a few deep breaths and threw his arms in the air.
"Oh, Albus Percival Wulfric Hector Yosemite Zoroaster Edward David Alexander Brian Dumbledore! Thank God your mother, Mary Prunella Catherine Supena Elizabeth Dumbledore Née Jones didn't live to see you do this! I feel like I am no better than my crazy psychopath ex-boyfriend, who was a Sagittarius."
Sirius gave James another Look. This time it said: WELL?
"We don't know that's his real name," James insisted.
"What will you believe? We just saw him kill someone and I'm the one you're questioning!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not now shut up!"
They shushed because Dumbledore was looking towards the gazebo as if he had heard loud whispering or something.
"Is anybody there?" he called.
The chaps held their breaths. As soon as they could hear shed activity again, they fled.