Chapter 30

Hermione's schedule worked out well for her over the following weeks. She would study late into the night and then follow the same routine if Malfoy had said anything to her on that specific day or Harry or Ron said something without thinking that brought it to her mind. She'd also taken to returning to Quidditch practice with Harry, Oliver and the twins.

Oliver and the twins were glad she was back to watching their practices, and would often fly by and chat with her for a bit while they were waiting for their turn for instruction from Oliver or were taking a short break.

"Hermione," Harry said nervously one night when he joined her in the common room after changing into dry clothes from the cold, rainy practice they'd had.

"Yes, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking up from her homework.

"Um, I - I was wondering..." Harry said and Hermione blinked at his nervousness. "Well, um, the thing is, on the way up from practice, I was almost in trouble with Filch for tracking mud in, and Nick distracted him so I could get away, but um, well... he invited me and my friends to his deathday party on Halloween. It's okay if you don't want to go, I mean, it'd be during the feast, and you'd probably want to go to that, but I just thought I would ask if you wanted to go. I know Ron would probably rather go to the feast, too."

Hermione smiled. "I'd be happy to go to Nick's party with you. I've not seen many ghosts around other than the house ghosts and Moaning Myrtle, maybe there will be more at this party. It would be interesting to see what a ghost party is like."

"Oh," Harry said, and blinked at her in surprise before he relaxed and smiled in relief. "Okay, great. Thanks!" He paused and laughed. "Now all I gotta do is talk to Ron."

Hermione smiled at him. "Good luck with that."

"Yeah, thanks," Harry said. "I'll need it."

Halloween night was upon them before they knew it, and Ron was still grumbling as they bypassed the Great Hall and headed down to the dungeons to Nick's party. Hermione noticed Harry seemed to regret his decision to accept Nick's invitation as they descended the stairs, leaving the warm glow of the upper castle behind.

"A promise, is a promise," she reminded him. "You said you'd go to the deathday party, Harry. Give it up, Ron," Hermione said, tiring of listening to him. "You promised Harry that you'd come. I'm sure they'll have food at the party, too."

The boys fell silent as they continued down the dungeon stairs lined with eerie black taper candles, burning with a bright blue flame. The temperature dropped with every step they took, Hermione kept quiet about her suspicions, but attributed the chill to the number of ghosts they were soon to find. They continued on, pulling their robes tightly around them.

They winced as a sound similar to nails on a blackboard reached their ears from down the passage.

"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered.

They turned a corner and found Nearly Headless Nick standing in front of a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

"My dear friends," he said in a mournful tone. "Welcome, welcome... so pleased you could come." He bowed them inside, sweeping off his plumed hat.

Hermione smiled as they stepped past him into the chamber that felt like she was stepping into a Muggle freezer. She was correct. There appeared to be hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful sound coming from the orchestra's instruments.

"Shall we move around?" Harry asked, stamping his feet in place as he tried to keep warm.

"Just be careful not to walk through anyone," Ron said with a shiver.

"Oh, no," Hermione said, as she halted after they had skirted the dance floor, moving past a group of nuns that looked rather gloomy, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar who was the ghost of Hufflepuff house. She had also seen the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin house ghost off by himself, the other ghosts giving him a wide berth, but that wasn't who had her hesitating. "Turn back," she murmured urgently. "Turn back. I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle."

"Who?" Harry asked as they quickly backtracked.

"She haunts one of the toilet stalls in the girls' bathroom on the first floor," Hermione said.

"She haunts a toilet?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "It's been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to go to the bathroom with her wailing at you-"

"Look, food!" Ron exclaimed.

On the other side of the room on a long table similar to those in the Great Hall also draped in black velvet. They approached it eagerly, but halted suddenly, assailed by the most horrid smell.

"Ugh!" Ron blanched, making a face as he paled. "What is that?"

Upon a more attentive, though not closer inspection, all three of them noticed that the smell was coming from the food. Hermione's stomach roiled at the sight of the large rotten fish laid out by the silver platters; she felt it turn to knots as she moved her gaze along the table, taking in cakes burned charcoal black, heaped on salvers. She quickly brought a hand to her mouth as bile rose in her throat at the site of maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mould and, in pride of place, an enormous grey cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words:

SIR NICHOLAS DE MIMSY-PORPINGTON

DIED 31ST OCTOBER 1942

"Can you taste anything?" Harry asked a ghost he saw pass through the table.

"Almost," the ghost said sadly.

"I expect that's why they've let the food rot," Hermione said, holding her nose now she got her stomach under control, she leaned forward slightly studying the haggis, wondering just how old it was. "That way it has a stronger flavour."

"Can we move?" Ron asked. "I feel sick."

He looked it, too, Hermione decided, turning to him. She could see the slight glisten to his skin that wasn't an effect of the lighting that gave them all pallid complexions.

Unfortunately, it was a while for them to make their escape though, Hermione reminisced later that night as she sat in the common room doing her homework. They'd barely turned around when Peeves, the poltergeist, showed up to cause trouble, and trouble he caused, bringing the unwanted attention of Moaning Myrtle, and making her cry. Shortly after that, Nick cornered them himself, wanting to know if they were enjoying themselves. But it was then as they made their escape up the passage back to the warmth of the upper castle that things took a turn. On the way up the stairs, Harry had heard the voice again.

Finishing her homework, Hermione pulled out another piece of parchment deciding to write to Oliver about what had happened.

31October 1992

Oliver,

I'm sure you know by now that Harry, Ron and I were the first on the scene of Mrs Norris and the writing on the wall. Professor Dumbledore assures us she's only petrified, and that it's possible to cure her. He said something about the mandrakes that Professor Sprout has in the greenhouse; I don't think they're ready though.

I'm not surprised that Harry wants to get involved with whatever caused this to find out what's going on. He either goes looking for trouble or trouble finds him. It gets old trying to keep him out of trouble.

Hermione

She sent the letter off and it wasn't long afterward she received a reply.

31 October 1992

Hermione,

Please be careful. I heard what Malfoy said; Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mu- I'm not even going to finish writing that, I'm sorry. He's right about one thing, Salazar Slytherin hated Muggle-borns. Anyway, I didn't see you, Harry or Ron at dinner tonight, what happened? Thought we'd see you at the feast.

Oliver

Hermione grimaced slightly as she recalled the evening again. Sighing, she set quill and ink to parchment and told Oliver about their night spent in the cold, dark dungeons... all because Harry agreed to go, and her own curiosity of such an event, though she decided that it was best not to tell Oliver about the voice that Harry kept hearing.

31October 1992

Oliver,

Seriously, I do not recommend attending a ghost's party unless you have a strong stomach. Ron was so disappointed in missing the feast, but he agreed to go with Harry, who had gotten roped into attending when Nick got Peeves to help distract Filch when the caretaker caught Harry tracking mud into the castle after practice. I went mostly out of curiosity, but I admit now, I really shouldn't have gone. It was awful! The food they did have, no living person would want to eat. It was all moulded and rancid. Utterly disgusting.

Harry asked a ghost in attendance if he could taste it, and the ghost replied that he could only barely taste it. We were half-way across the dungeon room where it was being held, and we could smell it from the tables. We didn't stay too long. I don't know what Nick thought when we left, but we made a circuit of the dance floor, and aside from the ghosts Harry and Nick said were members of the Headless Hunt, we only saw Nick, the Fat Friar, the Bloody Baron, Moaning Myrtle, and Peeves, if you can even call him a ghost.

We tried to avoid Moaning Myrtle, but then Peeves spotted us and came over causing trouble as usual. It was shortly after that when we left. Unfortunately, the feast was over by then, so I don't know if Ron was able to get anything for himself or Harry...

She paused in her writing as her stomach gurgled again at the thought of the putrid food. She was starving, but shook it off as her nausea hit again.

That is if they can even stomach anything. I can still recall the stench of that food and it is making me nauseous. I'd better go... Write to you or talk to you later, whichever is first.
Hermione

After she finished her letter and sent it off, she decided a trip to see Madam Pomfrey was in order. She needed to update the matron on the success of the Pensieve anyway and headed off to get something to help settle her stomach before bed.