The table was quite honestly a huge disappointment.
Amisty was expecting food that rivaled the food at the Great Hall.
She was mistaken.
A horrid smell attacked her nose, and she coughed, eyes watering. Everything was either rotten, burned, moldy, or so decayed there was no discerning what it was.
A massive grey cake that closely resembled the color of lead was in the center, blocky black icing writing out:
Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington
Died 31st October, 1492
Amisty nearly jumped out of her skin as a stout, somewhat short ghost appeared and walked through the table, mouth gaping.
"Can you taste it if you walk through it?" Harry asked curiously, his head tilted to the side slightly.
"Almost..." The ghost replied, his voice sad, before he floated away and back to the crowd.
"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor," Hermione guessed, plugging her nose and leaning down to expect the food.
Amisty nearly lost the little food she had in her stomach at that.
"Can we move? I feel sick," Ron asked, earning an enthusiastic nod from Amisty, who was starting to sway at the smell.
So they turned around, only to come face to face with Peeves the Poltergeist.
"Hello, Peeves," Harry's voice was flooded with caution.
Peeves was one of the most trouble making beings Amisty had ever met.
"Nibbles?" He held out a bowl of peanuts... that were covered in a less than appetizing shade of green fungus.
"No thanks," Hermione replied quickly, glancing down at the bowl with poorly concealed disgust.
"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle. Rude you were about poor Myrtle," He smiled wickedly. "OI! MYRTLE!"
Amisty traded panicked looks with Hermione, who's alarm was shining in her brown eyes.
"Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset. I didn't mean it, I don't her--" Hermione pleaded, shutting her mouth the second the straight haired ghost floated toward them. "Er, hello, Myrtle."
"What?" She asked, her voice as gloomy as the very room they were standing in.
Maybe more.
Amisty plastered on a blinding smile, waving cheerfully.
"How are you, Myrtle? It's nice to see you out of the toilet!" Hermione smothered her voice with joy and politeness.
Myrtle gave her a skeptical look.
"Miss Granger and Miss River were just talking about you," Peeves whispered in her ear, smirking.
"Just saying -- just saying -- how nice you look tonight," Hermione replied quickly, stumbling over her lie.
"Y-yeah, that's all," Amisty added, cursing herself for her stammer.
She really needed to work on her lying skills.
"You're making fun of me," Myrtle wailed, silvery tears appearing in her eyes behind her glasses.
"No -- honestly -- didn't we just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" Hermione nudged Harry and Ron while Amisty sent them pleading looks.
"Oh, yeah--" Harry nodded quickly, holding his stomach.
"They did--" Ron piped up, smiling through the painful jab Hermione had inflicted to his middle.
"Don't like to me. D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back?" She asked dejectedly, counting off the many names with her translucent fingers," Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"
"You've forgotten pimply," Peeves whispered cruelly in her ear.
The poor ghost burst into tears, racing from the dungeon. Amisty watched guiltily as Peeves shot after her, throwing his peanuts at her back.
"Pimply! Pimply!" He shouted gleefully, clearly relishing the pain he had inflicted on Myrtle.
"Oh, dear," Hermione mumbled, looking down at her feet glumly. Amisty caught sight of Nick floating toward them and she tapped Hermione on the shoulder, warning her to perk up.
"Enjoying yourselves?" He asked merrily, a bright smile spreading across his pale face.
"Oh, yes," Harry and Ron replied in unison, nodding their heads with false energy.
"Definitely," Hermione smiled, stepping on Amisty's foot to tell her to speak.
"Mhm!" The raven-haired girl didn't think Nick would believe her if she used more than that to reply.
She felt a flash of jealousy for her friends ease at lying.
"Not a bad turnout. The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent..." He paused in his words, as if remembering something. "It's nearly time for my speech, I'd better go and warn the orchestra..."
There was no need, however, as the room had suddenly gone silent. A hunting horn echoed through the halls.
"Oh, here we go," Nick nearly spat out his words, looking very unhappy at the sound of the horn.
Just as he finished speaking, a group of ghost horses galloped into the room, a headless horseman riding each. All the ghosts clapped, a chorus of cheers erupting from them.
The leader, or who Amisty guessed was the leader, galloped to the center of the dance floor, lifted his head (which he had been carrying) above the crowd, and then marched over to Nick.
"Nick! How are you? Head still hanging in there?" He slapped him on the shoulder cheerfully, his voice booming.
"Welcome, Patrick," Nick replied, his voice almost as cold as Amisty felt.
She was freezing, and she inched toward Hermione to keep warm.
"Live 'uns!" Sir Patrick shouted suddenly, leaping backward so his head toppled off his head and to the floor as he spotted the quartet.
"Very amusing," Nick grumbled, his voice radiating the polar opposite of amusement.
"Don't mind Nick! Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say -- look at the fellow--" Sir Patrick continued, speaking from the floor.
"I think Nick's very -- frightening and -- er --" Harry butted in, though the way he slipped on his words it was clear he hadn't truly believed it.
"Ha! Bet he asked you to say that!" Sir Patrick roared.
Apparently he didn't know how to speak quietly. Nick glided away, his annoyance clear on his face.
"If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!" He announced, taking his place under the cold blue spotlight. "My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow..."
His voice was soon overpowered by the Headless Hunt, who were playing a game of Head Hockey in the middle of the room.
Poor Nick was desperately trying to get everyone's attention, only to give up on the fruitless attempt once Sir Patrick's head flew past him.
Amisty drew her robes even tighter around her, teeth chattering as she fought to keep warm.
"I can't stand much more of this," Ron shivered.
The orchestra started up again and the dance floor was once again covered in ghosts.
"Let's go," Harry nodded, his face pale from the lack of heat.
He led them all out of the frigid room hurriedly, all of them beaming at anyone who spotted them as they left.
The second they were out of the room a subtle wave of heat washed over the four, earning a sigh of relief from Amisty.
"Pudding might not be finished yet," Ron's eyes lit up slightly and he started toward the entrance hall.
Until Harry stopped in his tracks and pressed his ear to the cold stone wall, eyes darting around wildly.
"Harry, what're you--?" Amisty started, looking at him with a bewildered look on her face.
"It's that voice again -- shut up a minute --" Harry replied, intent drawn all over his posture and tone. "Listen!"
Hermione shot Amisty a look, and she strained her ears.
The only sound she could hear was a faint scratching noise, and it soon disappeared. Harry looked up, turning on his heel and racing up the stairs.
"This way!" He shouted down to them, and they scurried after him.
"Can you hear anything that he is?" Hermione asked quietly as they ran, confusion clouding her eyes.
"I don't hear a voice, but there is something," Amisty nodded, whirling around the corner to the first-floor staircase. Harry was already halfway up.
"Harry, what're we--" Hermione tried to speak this time, nearly tripping on the final step of the flight.
"SHH!" Harry snapped, pausing in his frantic pace as he listened. "It's going to kill someone!"
And he ran off again, this time heading toward the next staircase.
Amisty, Hermione, and Ron all traded confused looks before chasing after him again. He finally skidded to a stop at a deserted hallway, panting heavily.
"Harry, what was that all about. I couldn't hear anything... Amisty couldn't hear anything--" Ron rubbed away the sheen of sweat on his forehead.
Hermione gasped, pointing down the hallway with wide eyes. Amisty's green gaze followed after her gesture, and a rush of unease flooded through her.
"Look!" She whispered, a mixture of horror and confusion lacing her voice as she squinted ahead.
She took a shaky step forward, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw what it was.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
The words were a shimmering red, reflecting the light of the torches lining the walls of the corridor.
Amisty stepped backward quickly, shuddering.
Harry placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, though his own terror-stricken eyes betrayed his true feelings of the situation.
"What's that thing -- hanging underneath?" Ron asked, his voice shaking slightly as he stared ahead.
A silhouette was shadowing the stone walls, but Amisty couldn't tell what it was. Harry was the first to walk towards it, keeping the raven-haired girl behind him.
His foot landed in a puddle of water, sliding out from under him. Amisty grabbed his shoulders and, with the help of Ron and Hermione, tugged him back to his feet.
They crept closer, only to jump backwards as they realized what it was. Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, was dangling from a bracket by her tail, yellow eyes wide.
"I-is... is that..." Amisty's voice trailed off as she gaped at the cat, her fear evident in her eyes.
None of her friends replied.
There was quiet for a moment, only broken when Ron finally moved.
"Let's get out of here," He took a step back, the quaver in his voice dying down to a small tremble.
"Shouldn't we try and help--" Harry started, his gaze not leaving the statue of a cat.
They had never liked Mrs. Norris, but seeing her like this wasn't what they wanted her to come to.
"Trust me. We don't want to be found here," He replied, only for his words to be drowned out by the sound of hundred of footsteps and voices chattering.
The feast had just ended, meaning everyone would be seeing them standing there.
Amisty and Hermione glanced at each other, both with matching faces of dread.
She desperately tried to move, to melt in the shadows as she used to.
But her feet were glued in place. Just as her eyes were stuck on the threatening words.
The noise got louder as the everyone climbed the stairs, only further enhancing her apprehension to what was to come.
By the time she had regained control of her movements the narrow hallway was blocked off on both sides by masses of joyful students. The talking ceased almost immediately as Mrs. Norris was spotted, and then a deadly silence fell at the sight of the haunting message drawn above the cat's head.
Amisty stepped back toward Harry, feeling shocked and mistrusting gazes burning into her back and face.
The crowd didn't dare move closer, leaving the unwanted spotlight on the four students standing in the center of the hall. Instead, they clambered over each other, trying to get a clearer view of the horror.
Amisty felt herself shiver and she tore her gaze away from the glistening red message, dropping it to her feet as her curly hair fell in front of her face, shielding her from view.
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" A voice yelled from the front of the horde.
She looked up, eyes flashing at the sight of Draco. His lips had curled up into a grin, eyes gleaming and cheeks glowing.
Amisty's eyes narrowed at the word 'Mudblood' and she glared at him through her raven locks.
His shining gaze met hers, smile flickering slightly at her glowering expression. She had yet to remember when she had first heard that word, but the absence of the memory did nothing to prevent her anger.