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Harry relayed Nearly Headless Nick's invitation that very afternoon. As the common room was quite crowded, Hermione had joined Harry and Ron in their dormitory--something that was forbidden to them.
"A deathday party?” said Hermione keenly. “I bet there aren’t many living people who can say they’ve been to one of those — it’ll be fascinating!”
Ron was less certain. "Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?”
"I don't imagine it's a celebration as much as an observance," Hermione mused, fishing her copy of "Voyages With Vampires" from her bag. "If I became a ghost, I'd surely wish to remember the day."
"Why, so you could go back in time and prevent it?" Ron teased.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ghosts aren't allowed to use Time-Turners, Ron."
On the evening of Halloween, Harry was very glad he had warned Nick that they'd be late. School food was always good, but feasts were something else entirely. To miss it, and to go to bed hungry...well, Harry had done this under the care (or lack thereof) of the Dursleys, but he had no desire to repeat the experience. Certainly not this evening.
The previous year, the troll had attacked before the feast was properly underway, even if they'd been able to enjoy it in their common room. This year, there was no troll, merely the merry chatter of Harry's classmates, and the skeleton show Dumbledore brought in. The one downer was Hermione giving him and Ron occasional pointed glances.
"Reckon we ought to grab dessert and leave before she goes mad," Ron muttered, once the main meal had been cleared.
"Expect so," he agreed, rather reluctantly. The Great Hall was so warm, so bright, and the Deathday party would be in the dungeons.
But Nick would know if they didn't arrive at all, and think it unkind of them.
Hiding a sigh, Harry helped himself to a large piece of treacle tart before standing. Hermione was on her feet practically before him, and Ron nearly banged his knees against the table.
"Where are you going?" Dean asked them.
"Sir Nick's Deathday Party. We have permission," Hermione added, quickly, "but were warned to eat first. Ghost food isn't fit for the living."
"Er--have fun?" Dean asked.
Hermione smiled. "It should be very interesting!"
Knowing that the party was in the dungeons, Severus had offered to perform a Heating Charm on Harry's robes. As he'd discovered earlier that day that he'd outgrown the sweater Mrs. Weasley had sent him for Christmas, Harry had readily agreed.
He felt a little bad as he saw Ron and Hermione shivering slightly, pulling their robes tighter around them. School robes were of the same material regardless of the time of year, with only Heating and Cooling charms to adapt to the temperature. Hogwarts's corridors could certainly be drafty in the winter, and the one benefit of the cold dungeons was that it felt quite pleasant in the early and later months.
Not at the end of October, and certainly not at night.
"We don't need to stay very long," Harry promised, before they entered. "Just say hello to Nick, look around, that sort of thing."
Ron nodded, looking hopeful. "We do have curfew, after all. And perhaps," he added, "we can catch the end of the Feast!"
Hermione heaved a sigh. "Oh, don't act so gloomy about it!"
Harry chuckled as he opened the door. "Gloomy seems to be the overall mood..."
“Nick!” a ghost 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, Ron, and Hermione and giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again (the crowd howled with laughter).
“Very amusing,” said Nearly Headless Nick darkly.
“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 —”
"Having a good time, Harry?" Nick interrupted. "Ron? Hermione?"
They all nodded, and Harry reckoned they were all thinking it was a good thing Sir Nicholas hadn't known they'd just gotten there.
Harry, remembering his promise, went on.
“You know, I rather think,” said Harry hurriedly, at a meaningful look from Nick, “that Nick’s very — frightening and—”
"Ha!” interrupted Sir Patrick’s head. “Bet he asked you to say that!”
"Not at all!" Harry protested, glancing at his friends.
"Yeah! Only the Bloody Baron is worse!" Ron chimed in.
"We--we always say it’s best not to get on Nick's bad side," Hermione lied, yet sounding quite believable.
"Well--" Sir Patrick began.
"If I could have everyone’s attention, it’s time for my speech!” said Nearly Headless Nick loudly, nodding his thanks towards Harry and company, before 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 was 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.
They watched in mild interest for a time, but when Nearly Headless Nick attempted (and failed) to receive anyone's attention for the fifth time, it became quite painful to watch.
“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. "Hermione?"
"Well...all right," she said, nodding.
They backed toward the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles.
Even Harry, warmed in his heated robes, felt the difference once they were away from the dungeon.
"Seconds on dessert?" Ron asked, with a grin.
"Sure!" Harry and Hermione both agreed.
There was still plenty of dessert left over, and while they'd missed at least part of the dancing skeletons, they'd arrived before the show had finished.
Harry helped himself to another piece of treacle tart: Ron and Hermione, to different flavors of pudding.
When the skeletons rose into the enchanted sky of the Great Hall and vanished, the whole student body erupted into applause. More followed when Dumbledore rose from his place at the staff table.
"Thank you very much," he said, eyes twinkling. "Now, not to rush you, but when you have finished your dessert, it will be time to return to your dormitory."
The selection of desserts vanished, then, but not what was on everyone's plates.
Moments later, they left the Great Hall, talking excitedly about the Feast and the skeleton show.
The good mood lapsed as they entered the corridor. Something was shining on the wall ahead. They 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.
Everyone went quiet. It was not simply the sign, but there was a pool of water beneath it. Also...a hanging cat. No, not just any cat. Mrs. Norris.
Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Draco Malfoy.
“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” he sneered, grinning down at the cat.