Public Issues (Demma Book 2)

Enemies of The Heir

Dateline: October 24th, 1992

After Harry gave Hermione a new set of quills and ink for school on her birthday, it's safe to say that she won't be needing help asking for ink from Harry anytime soon for her essays or important notes the teachers give in their lectures.

October arrived very quickly at Hogwarts, and it spread a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Colin and Professor Lockhart kept annoying Harry and Hermione throughout the entire month of September, and he proved the annoyance to be too much for them to handle as they run-walked through every single student they passed by.

They were walking into the castle from the Quidditch Pitch, which had raindrops that were falling like bullets until a ghost stopped them. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring out the window, muttering under his breath.

''You looked troubled, young Potter and Granger,''

''So do you,'' said Harry.

''Ah, a matter of no importance. It's not as though I really wanted to join. Thought I'd apply, but apparently, I 'don't fulfil requirements--'' he said in an airy tone, and there was a look of great bitterness on his face. ''But you would think that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?''

''Oh -- yes,'' said Harry and Hermione, who were obviously supposed to agree to the Gryffindor Ghost.

He shook his letter open at the two and read furiously: '' 'We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horsehead Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfil our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delany-Podmore.' ''

As he was fuming after reading, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away.

''Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, kids! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore.''

''We wish there was something we could do for you about the Headless Hunt,'' Hermione said, stopping in Nearly Headless Nick's tracks.

''But there is something you two could do for me,'' he said excitingly. ''I would be asking too much -- but no, you wouldn't want --''

''What is it?'' said Harry.

''Well, this Hallowe'en will be my five hundredth deathday. I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an honour if you two would attend -- but I daresay you'd rather go to the school feast?''

''No,'' they said quickly. ''We'll come --''

''My dear! Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, at my deathday party! And do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?''

''Of course,'' said Hermione as Nick beamed at them.

Dateline: October 31st, 1992

Harry was already regretting his rash promise to go to the deathday party, and the rest of the school was happily anticipating their Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumours that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

"A promise is a promise," Hermione reminded Harry bossily. "You said we'd go to the deathday party."

When the clock struck seven, Harry and Hermione walked straight past the doorway to the packed Great Hall, which was glittering invitingly with gold plates and candles, and directed their steps instead toward the dungeons.