Harry POV
"You know, this is somehow not what I expected… and yet it's also exactly how I assumed ghosts would celebrate something called a Deathday," Harry admitted in a low voice as he looked around the room in the dungeons that'd been set aside for use by Gryffindor's house ghost, Nearly Headless Nick.
At his side, Neville shivered but nodded in agreement. There were dozens of spooky specters floating about, causing the already chilly dungeon to get even colder. Harry was glad Percy (who'd come along as a chaperon) had cast warming charms on everyone.
In fact, all of the Gryffindor Second Years and some from other years were in attendance, including the entire Quidditch team, Harry having convinced them that it would be a nice gesture for the ghost who was sort of their house's mascot when Nick had asked if Harry would attend the event. And since Harry wasn't really a fan of Halloween, he was fine with skipping the feast to hang out with some dead people. He did make sure there was food fit for human consumption, though. Rotten food wasn't very appetizing.
"I didn't know ghosts could cry," Susan muttered to herself as she watched the not-quite decapitated ghost of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington beam with pride and joy at all the people from his house who'd showed up. He had silvery streaks on his cheeks everyone was kind enough not to mention.
Susan, Hannah, and Luna were the only students from other houses who'd shown up, with the latter sticking close to and hanging out with Ginny all evening, but Harry didn't mind. He'd extended the offer to a few others, but understood why nobody else had been interested. Heck, even some of the other Gryffindors were a bit unnerved attending and being around so many ghosts.
'House of the Brave my arse,' he thought to himself with an amused snort.
"Oi!"
"Harry-kin!"
Harry looked over at the Weasley Twins as they sauntered over. They had mugs of butterbeer in hand and wide grins.
"Never thought we'd get to go to a Deathday Party," Fred (?) said.
"Thanks for inviting us!" George (?) replied. "A real riot!"
"No problem," Harry shrugged. "I'm surprised nobody from Gryffindor has done so before."
"True. At least some of the Firsties are having fun," Fred (or was it George?) commented, and Harry glanced over at the small group of Muggleborn First Years looking excited. And… was one of them taking pictures of the event?
"Do ghosts even show up on photos?" Harry couldn't help but wonder, and George (or maybe Fred?) shrugged.
"Dunno. I heard from dad Muggles sometimes take photos of 'em which means it's possible."
Harry wasn't so sure any of the so-called 'ghosts' captured on film by Muggle tabloids were of actual ghosts, but maybe they were. Would make sense if the photographers were Squibs trying to make some money.
'And now I have to wonder about other mysteries and cryptids being real or Squib hoaxes,' Harry mused. 'I'll have to ask Ed about that.'
As he was thinking to himself, four ghosts floated over to him, and he put his thoughts away to greet them.
"Hello," he said politely, nodding his head towards Nearly Headless Nick and the House Ghosts for the other Houses.
"Harry, my boy! Thank you for attending! And bringing so many people with you!" Nearly Headless Nick said happily. "Why, this has been my best Deathday ever!"
"Glad you enjoyed it," Harry said with a smile. "And, uh, I hope you don't mind that I asked the House Elves to prepare some food for the more mortal guests."
"Oh, yes, no problem at all!" the Fat Friar assured him. "Ghostly cuisine is not for the faint of heart!"
"Indeed. It was quick thinking," the Grey Lady said, scrutinizing the boy in front of her, as if seeing him in a new light. The Bloody Baron just huffed, but gave Harry a polite bob of his head, chains rattling a bit.
Harry smiled back at them. "Anyways, I was wondering about what it was like to be dead…"
He chatted some more with the ghosts, but the party was soon interrupted by loud neighing and braying and whooping and hollering, and without warning dozens of ghostly specters burst into the chamber, flying around and tossing round objects amongst themselves while seated on the backs of ghostly horses.
"What is that?!" a Fourth Year exclaimed, though after the first couple of seconds the shock quickly wore off.
"Maybe they're late comings?" Lavender Brown wondered. "I've heard it's fashionable to be late. Though that always seemed rude to me."
"Nicky-boy!" one of the riders called out, riding down to where the House Ghosts were hovering. His head was tucked under his armpit, but despite that he managed to look down his nose at the Gryffindor ghost.
"Hullo, Patrick," Nick said in an annoyed voice.
"Heard about your request to join us again, but I'm afraid the answer is still 'no,' same as last year," the rider declared, smirking down at the not-quite-headless phantom. "Since it's your Deathday and all, I thought I should deliver the rejection in person."
"Who's he?" Harry asked, thoroughly unimpressed by the rudeness on display.
"Ah. That would be Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore, leader of the Headless Hunt," Nearly Headless Nick said, somewhat despondently.
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