Emily Potter - Book 2 - The Chamber of Secrets

Chapter 3

Edited as of January 11, 2021

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Emily exited the Great Hall, feeling comforted by the warm, filling breakfast that she had with her housemates. She was the first to leave the table since she wanted to walk around the grounds and the castle to stretch her legs. Before she could head towards the end of the hall where you could spot the strawberry field from Hagrid's hut, her eyes wandered to the ghostly grey figure that loomed above her head.

"Morning, Sir Nicholas!" Emily said, regretting sounding too cheery to the Ghost of Gryffindor. She looked at him carefully, noticing his pout under the moustache. "You look...gloomy. Is something the matter?"

Sir Nicholas slowly turned to the young Slytherin before him, bowing his botched head considerably lower than his usual bow to the extent that she was worried his head might detach from his nearly decapitated neck, "Good morning, Emily." He greeted back in a depressing tone. "Since you asked, I have been denied yet again to enter the Headless Hunt." Sir Nicholas gingerly took off his hat and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment.

When Emily saw it, numerous questions began to thunder around her brain. Is that a ghost letter? How do ghosts write letters? Is there such a thing as ghost parchment and ink? Does that mean parchment has to die first before they can use it? The Gryffindor Ghost unfurled the letter and hovered it before Emily's nose.

To the esteemed Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington,

In response to your previous letter, we only accept huntsmen who have parted completely with their bodies. You do not fulfil our necessary requirements to enter. It is with my greatest regret to reject your request.

Best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore

What a load of tosh. "Rubbish! Who cares what they think, Nick? It's their loss." Emily said, pondering for her poor choice of words. "Even so, by his standards – you technically have parted from your body. You're a ghost." She added, riling a morbid laugh from Sir Nick.

His grey eyes glimmered in melancholy, but Emily took it as his own version of joy, "I don't think Podmore would allow for that sort of wordplay, however, you have my thanks." Sir Nicholas took the letter back to his hat and bowed to her again. "Speaking of loss, it will be my 500th Death Day quite soon."

"That's nice."

"Well, I'm glad you think so – because I was simply wondering if you, your brother, perhaps a couple of your friends would – and I emphasize the word would..."

Emily nodded, weirdly excited to see what on earth would a Death Day party would look like. "I'll let Harry know right away. We'd love to celebrate you, Sir Nick." The ghost's grey eyes grew wide with amusement, "I would be forever grateful if you lot did, oh thank you. Please, invite whoever you wish to invite. The party is in the dungeons, that's more than convenient for you, I say, with Slytherin House just around the corner."

Should I bring something? What do you give to a ghost on their Death Day? "I'll let my friends know – while we're at it, when's your big day?"

"Tonight."

"Oh! So, when you said soon, what you meant was later tonight."

"Time flows differently when you've been dead for as long as I have been."

I have so many questions. "Okay, brilliant. We'll be there." Emily promised, waving good-bye to the ghost as she slowly made her way to the grounds. But Sir Nicholas had followed her for a moment further, "And Emily," He called for her attention. She misjudged how close he turned out to be, accidentally walking past him when Emily thought he was only a few steps away. An indescribable level of cold froze her down to her bones, her skin prickling with both fire and ice. "Yeah?"