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Chapter 6 The death of Headless Nick.
October came, cold and dampness flooded the surroundings, made their way into the castle. Madam Pomfrey was constantly busy now— the whole school was coughing and sneezing. Her "Bouncy Pepper Potion" worked instantly, and everything would have been fine if it hadn't been for the side effect.: for those who took the tincture, smoke poured out of their ears for three hours. My sister looked sluggish and haggard. Percy even took her to the hospital ward and forced her to drink this drug. He probably suffers because the moon is on another house. Although after I set her up with Creevey, she seemed to have more fun.
Heavy raindrops pounded on the castle windows for a week without a break. The lake overflowed its banks, the flower beds turned into a muddy mess, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of a carriage. But none of this dampened Oliver Wood's enthusiasm. The training continued. I was even glad I wasn't on the Quidditch team. Just playing is one thing, but playing Quidditch professionally is not. I don't need such happiness.
It was raining again today, and my friend had a workout. He came back kind of excited and rushed to change clothes as usual. After finally changing into clean, dry clothes, Harry joined us in the Common Room. After that, he told about the request of Headless Nick.
"A death anniversary party?" Hermione asked with interest. "I bet very few living people can boast that they were at such a reception. It's probably going to be amazing! And it would occur to you to celebrate the anniversary of your own death! I shook my head disapprovingly. It would have been better if we had gone to the great hall for the celebration. But since Harry promised, what can you do? I've been doing my potions homework, and it's always been depressing for me. Knowing which potion is made for what and how to use it is one thing, I need it. But I probably won't need to cook it, except for the most necessary potions like hematopoietic and pericarp. I will buy the same bonfire ready-made. I will buy the same bone growth ready-made. As well as a set of antidotes and strengthening potions.
In my opinion, it will be a mortal melancholy.... Outside, rain was lashing at the slate-black panes, but the room was bright and cozy. A bright fire was burning in the fireplace. The students, sitting in upholstered chairs, read, talked, and did their homework. Fred and George were setting up an experiment: what happens if you feed Dr. Firecracker's sparkler to a salamander? In the magical creature care room, Fred had "released" a bright orange lizard from its confinement, and now it was steaming on a table surrounded by a bunch of curious people.
The salamander suddenly soared up and spun wildly around the room, crackling loudly and scattering sparks. Orange stars fell from her mouth, there was a slight explosion, and the salamander, engulfed in flames, disappeared. Damn, it looks like she's dead. Having dispersed the people, Percy shouted hoarsely at the twins.
The whole school was looking forward to the Halloween banquet. The great hall was traditionally decorated with live bats and lanterns made from huge Hagrid pumpkins — each pumpkin could fit three people! Rumor had it that Dumbledore had invited a troupe of dancing skeletons to the party. They usually stay in their necropolis cities and don't go out into the Earthly world. They don't like the magical background.
"A promise is a promise," Hermione told Harry adamantly when he mentioned his unwillingness to attend the birthday party. "You promised Nick you'd go to his anniversary party.
Boys, let's take some food with us for dinner. I read that ghosts never have fresh food on their birthday.
At exactly seven o'clock in the evening, Harry, Hermione, and I walked past the Great Hall, where candles shone invitingly and golden dishes glittered on the tables. We overcame the temptation and headed for the stairs leading down to the basements.
I wanted to go to the great hall for food, but there was only a pumpkin. I wanted to go to the great hall for food, but there was only a pumpkin. The couple of sandwiches I made for lunch won't be enough for me. Well, maybe we'll be back in time for dessert. They entered a corridor that led to a large underground room, the one where Nick was hosting his reception. The hallway was lit by candles, which made it even darker. Long, thin, black candles burned with a bright blue flame, and in their ghostly light we ourselves looked like ghosts. The hallway was getting colder with every step. Suddenly, a deafening sound touched our ears, as if thousands of nails were scratching on a giant blackboard at the same time.
"Is that music?" I whispered in horror. That grating got to my bones.
We turned the corner and saw an almost Headless Nick wrapped in black velvet. Hmm, he changed his clothes, and I didn't know that ghosts could do that. Nick hovered at the entrance to the hall, greeting the approaching guests. Welcome, dear friends," Nick said in a mournful tone as we approached. Welcome! I am so glad that you have honored me with your visit. He took off his feathered hat and invited us inside with a low bow.
An incredible sight presented itself to our eyes. The underground hall was filled with hundreds of ghosts. Pearl-white transparent couples waltzed on the dance floor to the heart-rending sound of thirty musical saws. They were played by musicians in black velvet standing on the stage. Such imposing skeletons in black clothes and tools painted black. A giant candelabrum hung from the ceiling, and a thousand candles flooded the hall with midnight blue light. The room was as cold as a freezer, and thick steam was pouring out of our mouths. It's good that we thought to wear warm trousers and sweaters under our robes.
"Shall we take a walk around the hall?" Harry suggested.
"Be careful, you just don't have to go through any of the guests." I nervously remarked, and we, carefully looking around, rushed forward along the edge of the dance floor.
They walked past a group of gloomy nuns, past a ragged man in chains, past a Fat Monk, the cheerful ghost of a Halfpuff, past a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. I noticed that the ghosts were avoiding the Bloody Baron, the ghost of the Slytherin dungeon. He was a thin man with bulging eyes, wrapped in a robe, on which bloodstains shimmered silvery.
"You are welcome!" Hermione whispered, freezing in place. "Turn around, and quickly. I really don't want to talk to Myrtle the Crybaby right now...."
"With whom, with whom?" Harry asked as we turned around and walked in the opposite direction.
"It's a ghost from the girls' bathroom on the second floor," Hermione replied.
"A ghost from the bathroom?" Harry asked.
"Yes," said Hermione, nodding. "The toilet has not been working for a year now because Myrtle is constantly crying and flooding the room."
"Personally, I only go there if absolutely necessary. You go into the booth on your own, and there Myrtle sees you and starts crying...."
Oh, the grub! Maybe it's not that bad?
"Look, the banquet table!" I interrupted her.
There was indeed a long table against the opposite wall, also covered with black velvet. We, who had managed to get pretty hungry, swallowed our saliva and picked up our pace. A sickening smell touched our sense of smell, a minute, two — and we saw the treat itself and stopped dead. Large rotten fish stretched out on beautiful silver platters, black-burnt cupcakes were piled on trays, a tripe of mutton stuffed with giblets, teeming with fat white worms, rested on a large plate, next to a huge piece of cheese covered in fluffy green mold. In the center of the table is a giant birthday cake in the shape of a tombstone, on it is written in black sugar letters: "Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Delphington. He died on October 31, 1492."
An impressive-sized ghost approached the table, bent down and moved forward, passing through the table in such a way that for a moment a rotten salmon fell into his wide-open mouth.
"Do you feel the taste of food if you walk through it?" Harry asked him.
"Almost," the ghost replied sadly and sauntered away.
I think they deliberately let the food go rotten so that the smell and taste would be stronger. Hermione stated confidently, clutching her nose with her hands and bending down to examine the half-decomposed mutton tripe more closely. Damn, and she's not disgusted? It's impossible to breathe there. There are also worms. Brr.
"Let's get out of here, I'm sick," I said, turning pale.
Before we could turn away from the table, a small man suddenly flew out from under it and hovered in front of us in the air.
"Hello, Peeves," Harry said cautiously.
Unlike ghosts, the poltergeist was neither pale nor transparent. He was wearing a bright orange paper hat and a rotating bow tie around his neck. There was a wide grin on his ugly face.
"Peanuts?" He offered, handing us a bowl filled with rancid peanuts.
"No, thanks," Hermione shook her head.
"I heard you talking about poor Myrtle." The poltergeist's eyes danced with unfriendly lights. "You were very rude about poor Myrtle." He took a deep breath and bellowed: "Hey, Myrtle!"
"Don't, Peeves, don't tell her what I said about her, she'll be very upset", Hermione whispered desperately. "That's not what I wanted to say, I don't mind at all... uh, hello, Myrtle!"
A plump ghost of a teacher floated up to us. The girl's face was half hidden by long disheveled hair and thick glasses that shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. I've never seen such a sad expression on his face in my life.
"Well?" she asked gloomily.
"How are you, Myrtle?" Hermione asked in a mock cheerful tone. "I'm really glad to see you off the toilet."
Myrtle sneezed.
"Miss Granger was just talking about you." Peeves whispered sarcastically in Myrtle's ear.
"I told... I told..." Hermione began uncertainly "How well you look today."
Hermione scowled at the poltergeist. Myrtle looked at Hermione in disbelief.
"You're making fun of me," she said. Silver tears glistened in her small transparent eyes.
"No, honestly!" Hermione retorted hotly, elbowing Harry painfully in the side, then me. "Didn't I tell you that Myrtle looks great today?"
"Y-yes..." said Harry.
"That's exactly what she said", I agreed, wincing at the elbow.
"Don't lie to me!"
Myrtle exhaled, bursting into tears, and Peeves clicked his tongue merrily over her shoulder.
"Do you think I do not know what they are saying about me behind my back? Fat Myrtle, that's what they say! Ugly Myrtle! Curly-haired crybaby Myrtle!"
"And you forgot pimple Myrtle," Peeves hissed in her ear.
Myrtle, the crybaby, burst into inconsolable sobs and stormed out of the basement. Her assailant raced after her, pelting the ghost with rotten nuts and shouting loudly:
"Pimply! Pimply!"
"Poor thing," Hermione sighed sadly.
I wonder how she floods the toilet? Ghosts usually can't interact with the physical world. Through the crowd, we noticed an almost Headless Nick swimming towards us.
"How do you like it?" Nick asked kindly.
"Very much," the three of us lied together.
"Almost everyone invited came," Nick proudly remarked, "The Weeping Widow came from Kent itself... The time for my speech is approaching, I'll go warn the orchestra."
But before Nick could move, the orchestra suddenly stopped. The musicians and guests fell silent. The sound of a hunting horn was heard.
"It's them," said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly.
Ten ghostly horses, each with a headless rider, flew through the wall into the dungeon. The audience applauded loudly. I looked at them gloomily, yeah, and why the hell did Nick invite them? The audience applauded loudly. I looked at them gloomily, yeah, and why the hell did Nick invite them? Oh, yes, so that Harry could convince them to accept him into their ranks. Harry started clapping too, but stopped when he noticed Nick's sad face.
The horses galloped to the middle of the dance floor and stopped, rearing up and digging the floor with their hooves. The procession was led by a tall ghost holding a head under his arm, which blew a horn, puffing out his cheeks. He jumped off his horse and threw his bearded head high into the air, so that she could see everyone gathered. The guests laughed together. The headless ghost put his head in its natural place and quickly rushed towards the Almost Headless
"Nick. Nick!" he thundered. "How are you? Is your head still hanging by a thread?"
He laughed loudly and slapped the Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder.
"Welcome, Patrick," Nick greeted him with restraint.
"Oh, the living!" Sir Patrick exclaimed, spotting Harry, me, and Hermione. He jumped high in feigned surprise, so that his head flew off his shoulders again. The audience roared with laughter.
"It's a lot of fun," said Nearly Headless Nick gloomily.
"Stop it, Nick!" Sir Patrick's head shouted from the floor. "Nick is still upset that we didn't accept him into the Club! I can explain, take a look at it"...
"Yes, take a look!" Harry picked up, "Isn't it true that Nick has a menacing, intimidating look..."
"I looked at Nick and my friend skeptically. Yeah. I wouldn't have believed it."
"Ha!" the head lying on the floor exclaimed. "I'll bet my horse that Nick set you up."
"Please pay attention! I'd like to make a speech." Almost headless Nick approached the stage, flew up onto it and fell right into a beam of bluish-icy light.
"My deceased, grieved relatives and friends, ladies and gentlemen," He began. "It is with great regret that I want to inform you..."
However, no one listened to him. Sir Patrick and the members of the Bounty Hunters Club were playing hockey, and the guests, who were passionate about the game, forgot about Nick.
Nearly headless Nick tried in vain to get their attention back, but gave up when Sir Patrick's head floated past him to loud applause and gave him a sly wink. I felt terribly cold, and my empty stomach was making itself felt. Well, Hermione warned us about the food at lunch and we stocked up on sandwiches.
"Whatever you want, but I can't stay here any longer." I said, my teeth chattering from the cold.
The orchestra started playing again, and the ghosts rushed to the dance floor.
"Let's get out of here," Harry agreed.
We backed toward the door, nodding and smiling left and right. A minute later, we were hurrying up the stairs, lit by black candles.
"Maybe we can at least make it to dessert." I said hopefully, my stomach rumbling.
Harry stumbled and leaned against the cold wall to steady himself. He looked around and stared intently into the dimly lit corridor.
"Harry, what's the matter with you?" I started, but Harry cut me off.
"That voice again! Be quiet for a minute..."
I listened carefully. It seems quiet. Only the water is dripping somewhere.
"Do you hear that?" Harry asked.
Hermione and I froze, not taking our eyes off him.
Harry looked up and stared at the dark ceiling.
"Hurry up!" Harry shouted and ran up the steps leading to the hall.
Harry rushed to the marble staircase and raced up to the second floor, Hermione and I keeping pace with him.
"Harry, what are you..." I began, panting from running.
Harry strained his ears. "It's going to kill someone!"
He shouted and, ignoring our confused faces, rushed up again. He took the stairs three at a time.
"Harry, what's the matter?" I asked, panting. "I don't hear anything."...
On the third floor, Harry raced down the hallway again, turning left and right. Hermione and I kept up, breathing heavily. No need to run and generally pump your muscles, you need to. But the robe is not very suitable for this. I need to write home, let my mother send Bili's old things. He also ran outside.
Hermione suddenly screamed: something was shining ahead. We hurried there, looking around. Words were written in huge letters on the wall between two windows, glistening in the torchlight with red paint:
"THE SECRET ROOM IS OPEN AGAIN. TREMBLE, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR!"
I took a closer look. There was something gray hanging against the wall. And what is this... What's that hanging under the sign? I asked with a trembling voice. They approached cautiously. Harry slipped — a large puddle of water had spilled onto the floor from somewhere. Hermione and I caught him before he could fall. We looked at the object hanging under the ominous words, which seemed like a gloomy shadow from a distance, and were stunned — it was Mrs. Norris, the school caretaker's cat, and we immediately recognized her. The three of us rushed back, splashing water from nowhere. The petrified cat was suspended by its tail from a torch bracket. His bulging eyes were wide open. We stared at her for a few seconds, not moving, not saying a word. Okay, we need to get out of here before anyone notices us. I was the first to find my voice.
"Let's get out of here," I said.
"But we must try to do something... to help her somehow...." Harry began lamely.
Damn, he's playing the hero again. If we get caught here, everyone will think that we were joking.
"We'd better get out of here right now. Maybe someone will see us here!"
I tried to reach his mind. But it was too late. A multitude of voices could be heard from afar, which meant that the banquet was over. The footsteps of dozens of feet were approaching us from one side of the corridor. The cheers of cheerful, well-fed girls and boys could be heard. A moment later, we were surrounded by a festive crowd. But as soon as the first people who came up saw the hanging cat, silence immediately reigned in the corridor. Harry, Hermione, and I found ourselves alone in the center of the circle — no one dared approach us, even though there were curious people pressing in from behind, everyone wanted to know what had happened here.
"Tremble, enemies of the heir!" Someone shouted loudly. "The cat comes first — the next ones will be those with unclean blood in their veins!"
It was Draco Malfoy. He pushed his way through the crowd, his always cold eyes came alive, a blush played on his pale face. Looking at the frozen cat, he smiled wryly.
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