Highly Spirited

Summary: Chapter 12: Stranded --------- They Ain’t Just Whistlin’ ‘Dixie’
Warning(s): See Chapter 1 for warnings and disclaimer. I still don’t own anything.


Chapter 12 – Stranded

Filius walked into the dining hall carrying some of the Whiting that was to be that night’s dinner. Bill Weasley was talking with Poppy.

“They will be back. It is All Hallow’s Eve,*” Bill said. He patted her arm reassuringly. “Just ignore them if you see anything. Ignore it completely. They’re harmless.”*

Someone began whistling the theme from the “Andy Griffith Show”. Filius looked around for the source before he realized it was the fish in his hands. Very calmly, he threw it on the dining room table in front of Bill and Poppy and cut its head off with the cleaver he had been carrying in the other hand.

The now decapitated fish stubbornly refused to stay silent and began whistling again. Both Bill and Poppy stared at the table, mouths gaping open.

Filius looked up at Bill and said, “I don’t hear anything, do you?*”

Poppy’s eyes widened but she shook her head in denial “No, no. I don’t hear anything at all. Not a thing. Nope.”* The whistling continued.

“Don’t you just love Whiting?*” Filius asked before leaving them and the decapitated fish behind.

---

Draco was back in his room trying to fend off another headache. Irritated, he headed for the bed and sat on the side as he took a couple of pain pills as the ‘Tension Ease’ was no longer helping him. He sat the water glass down after swallowing the pills and picked up a nail file. He had ripped one of his earlier in the carriage and he wanted to get rid of the jagged edge.

He was dressed unusually casual in designer jeans with a soft, grey angora cardigan and a pastel pink tee-shirt underneath. It was one of Harry’s sweaters, but he had been chilled after the earlier events so had borrowed it.

As he sat with his back to the bed, he failed to notice a shape taking form underneath the blankets. He jumped in surprise as a light trickle of fingers traced up his back and he heard, “Oh, sir,” in a very soft, come-hither voice.

Draco turned and saw Tom Riddle lying in his bed. He was underneath the sheet, but wore no shirt. His chest and abdomen were well-sculpted. His skin was pale, almost translucent in the light. Draco blinked and then rolled his eyes at the man before standing up. He walked a few feet away and turned back when he heard Tom speak up. “Sir, for you I missed my wedding for the first time in years, that's how much I want you. Sure, I know I'm a ghost and a murderer but forget about all that.” Tom grinned his most wicked grin and crooked a finger at Draco.

Without knowing why, Draco approached the side of the bed and watched him curiously.

Tom gave a hint of a mischievious smile. “Tonight’s All Hallow’s Eve and it’s the one night of the year I turn to flesh so... what d'ya say to a wee bit o' skelpin', eh?”*

Draco sat down but acted uninterested as he turned his back on his ghostly visitor. Tom sat up behind him. Draco felt an unusual chill as spectral digits trailed down his spine. He shifted away about two feet down the bed. Tom lay back on the bed with a smile, “Come on. At least tell me your name.*”

Draco ignored him but saw a bright shimmer of light from where Tom was lying. He turned to look and the man seemed to have disappeared, but the sheet was still raised, outlining a decidedly masculine body. Curiosity got the better of him and he lifted the sheet to look under it. Tom hadn’t disappeared completely. His bottom half was still quite visible and was unclothed. “Wow!” Draco whispered admiringly.

Tom’s voice sounded through the room, “Oh, really? Interested, are ye? I' do have the best bahoogies from here to Ballinderry.”* He sounded quite confident. “Come on, what do you say? Let's give it a twirl, eh?”*

Draco dropped the sheet and continued filing his nail. “Drop dead,*” he said blandly while trying to hide a small smirk.

The sheet slowly collapsed as Tom faded away. “Ooooh, God, what a man!*” Tom said, leaving Draco smiling to himself.

---

The sun set and darkness was beginning to take over all the corners of the castle and beyond. Harry sat in the tub reading “Hogwarts: A History” while drinking a small glass of white wine. He still had his glasses on so he could read the fine print.

“He who sleeps with the spirit finds only the grave but the virtuous heart, true love will save.*” He read the words aloud to himself several times.

---

Other than Harry and Draco, everyone else had gathered in the Great Hall for the evening. They congregated around the bar. They were all nervous and clamoring for drinks. Most were obviously already several glasses in. Hagrid sat next to Bill at the bar and asked, “The ghosts wouldna come into a bar, would they? I mean they don’t drink, do they? Being ghosts and all.*”

“Of course not. They wouldn’t drink spirits. That’d be like cannibalism,” Ginny laughed at her own joke. A few half-hearted snickers were heard.

Argus eyed her from the other side of Hagrid and asked, “How would she know?”

Filius reached up the bar and grabbed a glass. “I bet the Irish ones do!” he said, grinning at Ginny.

Bill chuckled and then said authoritatively, “It may just be a local disturbance in the extra planetary ether…*” He noted the glazed looks on everyone’s faces. “Ah…nevermind.” He took a large swallow of his ale.

Trelawney sat at the bar nursing her Shirley Temple while holding her head where she had hit it. She hadn’t told anyone what had happened.

In an exasperated voice she said, “I do assure you, there are no ghosts here.” She took another sip. “Even if there were, they would not come here,” she added. “Far too many of the living. The dead do not care to be near the living as it makes them envious for what they do not have: life.”

“Is that so?” A deep baritone from her left said.

She nodded. “Yes. The dead are afraid of the living as much as we are afraid of them. Like an elephant that can easily crush a mouse and yet is still afraid.”

“And so, are we the mice or the elephant?” Ginny asked.

At the same time that Trelawney said, “Elephant,” the baritone said, “Mice.”

Everyone turned to look to see who disagreed with the famous psychic. A very tall, pale man no one had seen before was standing there. He was dressed in old fashioned clothing.

“Who are you, sir?” Trelawney asked in an irritated voice.

“My name is Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. I came to tell you the Headless Hunt is about to begin.”

“Headless Hunt?” Argus asked. “Er…what’s that?”

“Oh, the decapitated ghosts of the castle like to find new heads for their bodies. They’ve denied me yet again so I thought I’d come to warn you just to irritate them.” He grinned at the group.

At the sudden intake of breath from several of the group, Bill piped in, “Very funny. Apparitions won’t harm us. Just ignore them.” He had repeated that platitude several times during the course of the evening.

“There are no apparitions!” Trelawney insisted.

Just then the sound of galloping horses started. It sounded far off, but the noise was getting closer. All heads swiveled to stare at the direction it seemed to be coming from.

“Who dya say you were again?” Hagrid asked.

“Sir Nicholas. Although the students used to call me Nearless Headless Nick,” he said.

“Nearly headless? What does that mean?” Brother Neville asked.

“Simple. My head was not been severed from my body completely. It’s irritating, really. I am not allowed to join the Headless Hunt as I since it’s still technically attached. But look – it’s only hanging on by a strand of ligaments.” With that, he tipped his actual head off his neck towards them as if in greeting. And indeed it was only attached by a few stringy ligaments.

Fleur nearly vomited seeing it but had the presence of mind to cover Dominque’s eyes. Several other people made retching sounds as if they too were having difficulty keeping the Whiting down.

Sir Nicholas kept talking “And yet they were the ones that attempted to decapitate me!! Talk about unfair! If they had done the job right, I could have joined them tonight! Instead, I have to settle for petty tricks!”

He turned and surveyed the group. While most of the group were staring at him in horror, Sybill Trelawney was squinting to see what was happening. Sir Nicholas stepped into her line of site and tugged his head sideways this time. She jumped.

“Surprise!” He laughed and then straightened his head. The galloping sound got quite loud, and it was apparent the hunt was closing in. He faced the group. “Here they come. Good luck! I hope they do a better job lopping your head off than they did mine!” He disappeared into thin air.

Several people stood there stroking their throats. A disembodied voice yelled, “Release the dogs!” and the ghostly appearances of several canines burst around the corner. Minerva was the first to break the silence. “RUN!”

The group scattered but no one got far before a group of ten ghostly horses with headless riders came riding through. Luna was the only one that hadn’t moved. The group watched in horror as a rider bore down on her, but breathed a sigh of relief as the ghostly image just went through her.

“Luna, are you all right?” asked a shaky Brother Neville.

“Never better. They weren’t actual ghosts. Just a memory of the castle likes to replay. The real ghosts are coming, though,” she said in a lilting voice, tilting her head to the ceiling.

The voice of Sir Nicholas could be heard laughing.


---


* Verbatim dialogue from the movie 'High Spirits'. * inside the quotation marks means just that sentence. Outside the quotation marks would indicate everything inside the quotation mark, not just the individual sentence.