Chapter 50: Chapter 50: Moaning Myrtle and the Headless Horseman
The ghosts began dancing to the music, performing a lively version of the "kick-tower" dance. Their twisted, translucent figures swayed in the air, and Ron stared wide-eyed at the playful ghosts fluttering about like birds.
Suddenly, a small male ghost popped out from under a table and hovered in front of them.
"Hello, Peeves," Harry said cautiously.
Peeves, the troublemaking poltergeist, stood out from the other ghosts—while they were pale and transparent, Peeves wore a bright orange party hat and a spinning butterfly bowtie, his wide face grinning mischievously.
Augustus smiled and greeted Peeves cheerfully.
"Happy holidays, Peeves."
Peeves looked around, and when he saw Augustus, his expression turned to one of surprise.
"You! How did you get here?"
"This party seemed fun, so I thought I'd drop by. It's been a while, Peeves," Augustus replied with an easy smile.
Peeves cautiously floated behind Hermione and, with his eyes gleaming with mischief, offered her a bowl of moldy peanuts.
"Would you like some?" he asked slyly.
"No, thank you," Hermione replied quickly, eyeing the bowl warily.
"I heard you were talking about poor Moaning Myrtle," Peeves said with a wink. "Talking about poor Myrtle, so rude…" He glanced at Augustus before darting to a corner, inhaling deeply, and then shouting, "Oi, Myrtle!"
"Oh no, Peeves, don't tell her that. She'll be really upset!" Hermione said anxiously. "I was only joking; I don't mind her like that—oh, hello, Myrtle."
A short, plump ghost floated over. Her face was mournful, half-hidden behind long hair and thick, pearl-colored glasses.
"What?" she asked, frowning.
"Hello, Myrtle," Hermione said in a forced cheerful tone. "It's nice to see you outside the bathroom."
Myrtle sniffed, suspicious.
"Miss Granger was just talking about you," Peeves whispered slyly into Myrtle's ear. "She was just saying—saying—how lovely you look tonight."
Hermione shot Peeves a warning glare.
Myrtle eyed Hermione suspiciously.
"You're making fun of me," she said, tears quickly streaming from her translucent eyes.
"No, of course not, Miss Myrtle. You're the most charming ghost I've ever met. Beautiful and graceful. I'm sure Peeves just misunderstood Hermione," Augustus said kindly. His tone was genuine, and his words seemed to momentarily calm Myrtle. Peeves, however, shivered in the air, visibly annoyed.
"Really? I'm that charming?" Myrtle asked, examining her translucent body. She twirled in place, lifting her skirt slightly, her cheeks flushing with a faint pink hue.
"I know it's impossible, but thank you so much anyway."
Peeves, clearly displeased by this turn of events, rolled his eyes and shouted, "Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Poor, whiny, miserable Myrtle!"
Before anyone could intervene, Augustus drew his silver wand and sent a beam of dark energy toward Peeves, silencing him mid-taunt. Peeves's voice turned raspy and strange, as though something had choked him. Terrified, he flew out of the room in a blur.
"Oh, dear," Hermione said softly. Myrtle, now visibly upset, began sobbing again and fled the underground classroom.
Nearly Headless Nick floated over from the crowd.
"Having fun?" he asked, his tone a mixture of politeness and fatigue.
"Not bad. The ghosts are all very friendly," Augustus nodded, his gaze following the chaotic scene.
"The turnout is decent," Nick said proudly. "The Wailing Widows came all the way from Kent. I think it's almost time for my speech. I'd better remind the band."
Before Nick could leave, the band suddenly stopped playing. The room fell silent as the sound of a hunting horn echoed.
"Oh no," Nearly Headless Nick said, his voice tinged with dread.
From the walls of the underground classroom, twelve ghostly horses burst into the room, each ridden by a headless rider. The entire party erupted into applause. Harry clapped as well but stopped abruptly when he saw Nick's grim expression.
"The Headless Hunt?" Augustus murmured.
The ghostly steeds galloped to the center of the dance floor and reared dramatically, their riders holding their heads aloft like trophies. The largest of the riders, a burly ghost with a scruffy beard, held his head under his arm and blew a hunting horn. Jumping off his horse, he casually reattached his head and marched toward Nearly Headless Nick.
"Nick!" he bellowed, "How's it hanging? Still got your head on?"
He let out a raucous laugh and patted Nick on the shoulder.
"Welcome, Patrick," Nick replied stiffly, his tone devoid of enthusiasm.
Patrick turned his attention to the living guests, feigning exaggerated surprise.
"Living people!" he exclaimed, leaping into the air for effect—only for his head to fall off again. The crowd burst into laughter.
"Quite amusing," Nearly Headless Nick muttered in a deadpan tone.
"Forget Nick!" Patrick's head shouted from the floor. "He's still bitter about not making the Headless Hunt! But look at this guy—"
"I think," Harry interrupted hastily, catching Nick's pleading glance, "Nick is really terrifying and—uh—impressive!"
"Duke Nick is clearly a very hospitable ghost," Augustus added with a chuckle, steering the attention away from Nick's discomfort.
"Haha!" Patrick's head yelled. "I bet it was Nick who told you to say that!"
"Attention, everyone!" Nearly Headless Nick's voice boomed. He climbed onto the podium and stood under the cold blue spotlight.
"My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, I speak to you with great sorrow…"
However, the rest of his speech was lost in the chaos. Patrick and the other headless hunters had begun a game of croquet with their own heads. The crowd cheered as one of the heads rolled past Nick, and the defeated ghost sighed, giving up on his speech.
Augustus watched the frenzied scene with bemused fascination. The ghosts of this world were unlike any he had encountered before—living openly in the school, with their own social circles, quirks, and traditions. They coexisted with humans in a way that felt oddly seamless.
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