So for the past couple days, FFN has been weird with updating chapters, so if you didn't get the alert for the two previously updated chapters, don't read this one until you have read 25 and 26.
I don't own any of the works of William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juilet. I thought it would be a cute Romione moment, as most of the beginning of The Deathday Party has Harry elsewhere doing things.
Chapter 27: The Depressing Party
October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey was kept busy because the teachers and students started getting colds. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny, who had been looking pale, was forced into taking some by Percy. With the steam coming out of her rears, she looked like her head was really on fire. It was starting to rain more and more. That doesn't stop Oliver Wood from hanging the Quidditch team practice until they seemed to me made of water by the end of it.
Since Harry was going to be practicing in the rain, Hermione and I stayed indoors, warm and dry. We were going over our Charms homework. When we were finish, I was so bored that I let Hermione talk me into reading aloud with her some play by some nutter named Shakespeare about some bloke who wanted this girl, but their families didn't like each other.
"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?"read Hermione, in a dramatic voice. "Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet."
I chuckled. She was good, but it still made me laugh.
"Ron! You said!" huffed Hermione. I had promised I would be serious.
She should have known better.
"Fine, fine. Okay." I said, clearing my throat to read that Romeo bloke's part. "Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"
"Tis but thy name that is my enemy." continued Hermione. "Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name!"
"Wait wait wait." I said, laughing as I stopped her. "I'm sorry, but is she talking to the bloke, or is she talking to herself? And if she is talking to herself, why is she asking herself such stupid questions?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and gave me an irritated look. "She is talking to herself, and she is wishing that he wasn't a member of the family that her family despised so they could be happily together. Can I continue?"
I nodded, smirking.
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet. So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name, which is no part of thee, take all myself."
"I take thee at thy word."I said, trying to sound like I was suave. "Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo...Okay, this is ridiculous."
Hermione snatched the book from me. "Why do you say that? I think it's lovely."
"She is basically wanting him to be another person just because of his name. She should want to be with him despite her family. Him too. Hang what their families think, you know?"
"I don't think it was that easy for them." said Hermione.
"Just tell me if they ever get on." I said.
"Well, they try to form a plan to ruin away together, but long story short they each end up killing themselves over one another's bodies." winced Hermione.
"And you call it lovely? That's mental!"
"It's a tragic romance Ron, you wouldn't understand."
"And I'm completely glad of that." I said, laughing even more.
Hermione looked put out as she closed the book. I had to fix it before she cried. I could never deal when Ginny cried, so it would probably be much harder to deal with Hermione crying.
"Don't do that." I said, taking the book from her and going back to the page we were on. "I may not be into that mushy shit-"
"Must you always curse?"
"-but I do like this little bit here." I said as I began to read. "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she."
Hermione smiled. "That was really good. Why do you like that part?"
I shrugged. "I guess because the bloke seems to really like her. And if she is the sun to him, then she must mean a hell of a lot, you know?"
"That's right!" Hermione said gleefully. "See? You do get Shakespeare!"
I groaned and rolled my eyes.
A little while later, Harry came in looking like a mid pie.
"You look alright." I joked.
"Better than you I'd gather." he said, flicking mud at me. "Be right back.
He went to the dorm to get cleaned up. While we waited, Hermione and I started on our Potions homework.
When Harry returned, he sat and told us what had happened before he had gotten to the tower. About Nearly Headless Nick, and his party.
"A deathday party?" said Hermione, very much intrigued. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those - it'll be fascinating!"
"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" I said, completely put off by the idea. "Sounds dead depressing to me."
"Well I already told him I would go." said Harry.
"Well have fun, mate." I said. "Meanwhile, Hermione and I-"
"Will come with you, of course." said Hermione, cutting me off.
"What?" I exclaimed. "But- but the Halloween feast!"
"Come on, Ron! This is going to be interesting. Who else do you know that is living that has been invited to a deathday party?" said Hermione, giving me a hopeful look.
"Come on, mate." said Harry. "Please?".
I sighed. Feast wouldn't be fun with them. "Fine. But you two owe me candy."
Harry and Hermione smiled. Gits.
As the rest of the school went into the Great hall ("Let's just have a peek, shall we?" "Ron!"), I was starting to regret saying yes. Harry looked the same, but Hermione was dead set against us going.
"A promise is a promise." Hermione reminded him. "You said you'd go to the deathday party."
Harry groaned as we walked past the doorway to the packed Great Hall, down a passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party. It had been lined with candles, too, though the effect was very dreary. The temperature dropped with every step we took. As we shivered and drew our robes tighter, we heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.
"Is that supposed to be music?" I whispered. We turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.
"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome... so pleased you could come..."
He bowed and pointed us inside.
It was a weird, but interesting sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white ghosts, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to this eerie music that seemed to be played on saws. 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.
"Careful not to walk through anyone." I said nervously. 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. The Bloody Baron was there as well.
"Oh, no." said Hermione, stopping abruptly. "Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle!"
"Who?" said Harry.
"She haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor." said Hermione.
"She haunts a toilet?" I said, trying not to laugh
"Yes. It's been out-of-order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place." said Hermione as she looked around for the ghost she mentioned again. "I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you..."
"Look, food!" I said, spotting what looked to be the snack table.
On the other side of the dungeon was a long table covered in black velvet. We approached it, bellies rumbling, but was quickly modified when we got there. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fish were laid on silver platters, burnt cakes were heaped on salvers, there was haggis worth maggots crawling all over it, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mold, and 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 felt like throwing up, but quickly composed myself. I had enough throwing up to last me a lifetime.
We watched as a chubby 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 through 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, trying to make light of the situation.
"Can we move? I feel sick." I said, holding back my bile.
We had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and stopped in front of us.
"Hello, Peeves," said Harry, cautiously.
Unlike the other ghosts who liked dark and miserably dressed, Peeves was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow tie, and a huge grin on his wide, wicked face.
"Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering us a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.
"No thanks," said Hermione, trying not to gag.
"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle." said Peeves" Rude you was about poor Myrtle."
He took a deep breath and screamed at the top of his lungs. "OY! MYRTLE!"
"Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset," Hermione whispered frantically. "I didn't mean it, I don't mind her - er, hello, Myrtle."
The ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face I had ever seen, half-hidden behind long dull hair and thick glasses.
"What?" she said sulkily.
"How are you, Myrtle?" said Hermione in a fake sweet voice. "It's nice to see you out of the toilet."
Myrtle sniffed.
"Miss Granger was just talking about you!" said Peeves slyly in Myrtle's ear. "Just saying-"
"Just saying...saying...how nice you look tonight." said Hermione, glaring at Peeves.
Myrtle eyed Hermione suspiciously.
"You're making fun of me," she said, beginning to cry silvery sparkling tears.
"No ! Honestly, didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" said Hermione, nudging Harry and I painfully in the ribs.
"Oh, yeah!" I said, wincing.
"She did." finished Harry.
"Don't lie to me," Myrtle cried, tears now flooding down her face, while Peeves chuckled 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 forgotten pimply." Peeves, attempting to "help".
Moaning Myrtle burst into moans and more tears and zoomed out of the dungeon. Peeves shot after her, throwing moldy peanuts at her, yelling, " Pimply! Pimply! "
"Oh, dear." said Hermione sadly.
Nearly Headless Nick drifted over to us.
"Enjoying yourselves?" he asked
"Oh, yes." we lied.
"Not a bad turnout," said Nearly Headless Nick proudly. "The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent... It's nearly time for my speech, I'd better go and warn the orchestra."
The night dragged on, with the headless hunters coming in and antagonizing Nearly Headless Nick. After giving false praises to them, we even more hungry, cold, and over it.
"I can't stand much more of this," I whispered through chattering teeth.
"Let's go." Harry agreed.
We backed toward the door, nodding and smiled politely at anyone who looked at us, and a minute later, we went hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles.
"Pudding might not be finished yet." I called back, running ahead toward the steps to the entrance hall.
"Harry, why did you stop?" I heard Hermione say.
I looked back and seen him against the wall, his ear smaller right on it, as if he was trying to hear something
"Harry, what're you -?"
"It's that voice again, shut up a minute." he whispered harshly.
His eyes grew wide with worry.
"Listen!" said Harry.
But Hermione and I heard nothing.
"Mate, are you-"
"This way," he shouted, as he began to run up the stairs and into the entrance hall. He stopped and looked around, confused.
Hermione pit a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, what're we-"
"SHH!"
Suddenly, he took off. "It's going to kill someone!" he shouted. We chased after him he ran up the next flight of steps trying to listen to whatever it is only he could hear. He finally came to a panting stop on the second floor corridor.
"Harry, what was that all about?" I asked as I wiped sweat off my face. "I couldn't hear anything."
Suddenly, Hermione gasped and pointed down the corridor.
"Look! "
Something was shining on the wall ahead. We approached the words and stood there, stunned at the deep crimson words that were shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE
There was something fuzzy hanging off one of the torches. "What's that thing, hanging underneath?" I said, an eerie chill running down my spine.
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. Our feet seemed to be stuck to the ground. I finally found my voice. "Let's get out of here."
"Shouldn't we try and help?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.
"Trust me." I said. "We don't want to be found here."
But it was too late. Hundreds of footsteps were headed out way, coming from both sides of us. We were screwed. The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Everyone's eyes were on the wall and the cat. The corridor was as silent as a tomb.
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" shouted Malfoy. He made his way to the front of the crowd. Upon his face, a very creepy and satisfied grin.