𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄 ¹

25. the deathday party

"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor," Hermione said knowingly, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.

"Can we move? I feel sick," Ron said.

We had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in mid-air before them.

"Hello Peeves," Harper greeted the poltergeist cautiously.

Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange hat, a revolving bow-tie and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.

"Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.

"No thanks," Hermione said.

"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle," Peeves said, his eyes dancing. "Rude you were about poor Myrtle." He took a deep breath and bellowed. "OY! MYRTLE!"

"Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset," Hermione whispered frantically. "I didn't mean it, I don't mind her—er, hello, Myrtle."

The squat ghost of a girl had glided over. "What?" she said sulkily.

"How are you, Myrtle?" Hermione asked, in a falsely bright voice. "It's nice to see you out of the toilet."

Myrtle sniffed.

"Miss Granger was just talking about you . . ." Peeves said slyly in Myrtle's ear.

"She was just saying how nice you look tonight," Harper spoke up, glaring at Peeves.

Myrtle eyes Hermione suspiciously. "You're making fun of me," she said, silver tears welling rapidly in her small, see-through eyes.

"No—honestly—didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" Hermione replied, nudging Harry and Ron painfully in the ribs.

"Oh, yeah . . ."

"She did . . ."

"Don't lie to me," Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder. "D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"

"You've missed out 'spotty'," Harper could hear Peeves hiss in her ear.

Moaning Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and fled from the dungeon. Peeves shot after her, pelting her with loudly peanuts, yelling, 'Spotty! Spotty!'

"Oh, dear," Hermione said sadly.

Nearly Headless Nick drifted towards them through the crowd.

"Enjoying ourselves?"

"Oh, yes," they lied.

"Not a bad turnout," Nick said proudly. "The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent . . . It's nearly time for my speech, I'd better go and warn the orchestra."

The orchestra, however, stopped playing at that very moment. They, and everyone else in the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excitement, as a hunting horn sounded.