The Young Padfoot *Book One*

Humans at a Ghost's Party

Just like Harry had promised Nearly Headless Nick, on the night of Halloween we started to make our way towards the dungeons where it was being held. It was clear to anyone just how much Harry had regretted his rash decision as when we walked passed the Great Hall, the smell of pumpkin pie and toffee apples floating all around us, we practically had to drag him past it.

As of yet, Hermione nor I had actually had a Halloween feast here as last year we were under attack of the mountain troll that Quirrell had let in. When I thought about it, it all seemed so long ago yet so recent; it was strange.

"Maybe we could go to the feast first and then—" Harry attempted to reason with Hermione, but she silenced him with a firm glare.

"No, Harry. A promise is a promise. You said you'd go to the Deathday Party," Hermione reminded him.

"Not to mention you dragged us into it, too. I was really looking forward to the feast," I added.

"They might have something at the Deathday Party," Ron shrugged.

"Ron, they're all ghosts. What makes you think there'll actually be edible human food there?" I said.

"Oh, yeah," Ron muttered.

As we got closer and closer to the dungeons, we saw rows and rows of candles had been lit along the walls, though opposed to the cheerful, warm ones in the Great Hall, these just emitted a gloomy and depressing glow. And just like it was throughout the lessons we had down here, it was absolutely freezing. Inwardly, I praised myself for wearing an extra pair of socks so that my feet wouldn't turn into ice cubes.

Everything was silent until we reached the room where the party was being held. Music that sounded like fingernails being scratched over a blackboard was blasting out making me physically cringe.

"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron muttered to me.

"Whatever it is, I think Nick's just invented a new form of torture," I replied, holding onto my cloak tighter as a breeze blew around us.

Not long after we had arrived, Nick came floating over to us.

"My dear friends, welcome, welcome... so pleased you could come," Nick took off his hat and bowed us further into the room.

If you got past the dreariness of it all and the fact that we were celebrating Nick's death, it was quite an amazing sight. There must have been at least three hundred ghosts drifting around the place. Some were twirling to the blackboard music while others were just mingling with their fellow translucent people.

"Shall we take a look around?" Harry suggested after Nick had floated off to welcome some other ghostly friends.

"Careful not to walk through anyone," Ron muttered as we edged around the dance floor.

We ended up wandering around for a little bit, every now and then dodging a flying ghost as they went to talk to someone on our other side. But as we reached the opposite end of the room, I noticed a certain ghost floating nearby.

"Oh, no. Retreat, retreat," I said, grabbing Hermione's hand and tugging her back.

"What?" Hermione looked over where I had been looking and quickly tried walking away with me, but Harry and Ron stopped us. "It's Moaning Myrtle. We don't want to talk to her."

"Who?" Harry asked, as Hermione and I managed to subtly sneak passed them.

"She haunts the girls' toilet on the first floor," I told him.

"She haunts a toilet?" Ron scoffed.

"Yes. 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 loo with her wailing at you—"