Chapter 96
Chapter 96
The orchestra changed to a mournful tune, drawing a squealing funeral dirge from their saws.
Nick moved towards the platform and entered an icy blue spotlight.
“My late lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is with profound sorrow that I–”
A hunting horn sounded. Twelve ghostly horses charged through the wall, each ridden by a headless huntsman whose head hung from his belt.
“How are you, Nick? Still got that head dangling?” The huge leader dismounted, lifted his head from his waist, and roared with laughter.
The room erupted in cheers, cries, and applause.
This was excessively funereal, even by Suer’s standards.
“Let’s go,” Ron said through chattering teeth. The new arrivals and the ghosts’ excitement had driven the temperature below freezing.
They retreated towards the door, smiling awkwardly and nodding at every ghost who watched. A minute later, they were hurrying through the black-candle corridor.
“I will never attend another ghost party,” Hermione whispered, her face blue with cold. “I should have listened to you.”
Suer nodded, vindicated.
They had barely escaped the freezing passage when Harry stopped in terror.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Ron asked.
Suer halted too. His face remained calm, but his heart tightened.
It had begun.
“Remember the voice I heard in Lockhart’s office?”
Harry lowered his voice in horror.
“It’s saying… so hungry… for so long…”
“Probably a ghost playing a trick,” Ron said impatiently. “Let’s get to the feast. I can hear the band.”
“Listen! There it is again!”
Nobody else heard anything beyond the crackle of the torches.
“Definitely a trick.” Ron strode ahead. “If we’re late, there won’t be any chicken legs left.”
Harry looked up. The voice came from inside the stone, but Ron had already gone. Harry suppressed a mixture of fear and excitement and followed.
Suer watched his back while a blurred memory surfaced.
“Come on.” Hermione looked around nervously and tugged Suer’s robes. “Isn’t this corridor rather sinister?”
He would think about it later.
“Why are you so late? The performance is over,” Justin asked when Suer sat beside him.
During feasts, students generally remained with their own houses, so Suer returned to the Hufflepuff table.
“We attended a ghost party underground.” He drank warm pumpkin juice and sighed as heat spread through him. “It is good to be alive.”
“A ghost party?” Justin leaned closer.
Suer filled his plate with chicken legs and pumpkin pie while describing what he had seen. When he reached the ghostly food, Morn retched.
“Stop. I’ll lose my appetite.”
“Ignore him,” Justin said eagerly. “I once ate something foul-smelling with my father, and it tasted wonderful. Perhaps ghost food is like that.”
Suer stared at him.
Rotten food and pungent food were not the same thing. Was the boy all right?
When Suer looked ready to continue, Morn carried his plate away.
Soon the final pudding arrived, and Dumbledore rose to dismiss the feast.
On the way out, Suer glanced towards Gryffindor. Ginny was pale but chatting and laughing with friends.
Had the story changed?
No. Harry had heard the creature’s voice.
Suer looked towards the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw groups, then followed his roommates in the opposite direction.
While queuing beside the barrels for their common room, he could no longer resist. He turned and ran upstairs.
“Where are you going?” Morn called.
“I left a book in the library. I’ll be back. You and Justin start a game.”
Was it the fourth floor or the third?
Suer hurried through the corridors, wand already in hand. He remained cautious. If he encountered the monster, he could not defeat it, but a wand might let him raise an alarm and save his life.
No unprepared second-year could defeat such a creature.
Suer knew his limitations. He was not Gryffindor’s legendary swordsman.
He reached the third floor without meeting anything. Around a corner, he found a dense crowd.
At the junction ahead, something hung from the wall beneath words gleaming in silver:
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood among the silent students, mouths open in shock.
Suer forced his way to Hermione. From their position near the front, he could see the object in the wavering torchlight.
Disordered grey fur. Empty eyes.
Filch’s cat.
As in the original story, Mrs. Norris was the first victim.
At the sight of Harry, Malfoy lost control. His pale face flushed and his cold eyes came alive.
“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’re next, Mud–”
A dangerous gaze stopped him. Beside Hermione, Suer watched through narrowed eyes.
The memory of his recent ordeal returned, and Malfoy’s reason returned with it. He swallowed the final syllable.