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The ghosts started dancing a wild jig to the music, their twisted, floating forms swaying in the air. Ron stared blankly at the ghosts darting around like happy little birds overhead.
Out of nowhere, a short ghostly man suddenly popped out from under the table and floated in front of them.
"Hey, Peeves," Harry said cautiously.
Peeves was a poltergeist, not a regular ghost like the others floating around. Unlike them, he wasn't pale or transparent. In fact, he wore a bright orange party hat, a spinning bow tie, and had a wide, mischievous grin spread across his face.
Augustus smiled and greeted him cheerfully. "Happy holidays, Peeves."
Peeves looked toward the voice and nearly jumped out of his ectoplasmic skin when he saw Augustus. "You?! What are you doing here?"
"This party seemed fun, so I thought I'd stop by. Long time no see, Peeves," Augustus replied with his usual calm smile.
Peeves edged cautiously behind Hermione, his eyes flashing slyly. "Want some?" he asked, offering her a bowl of moldy peanuts.
"No thanks," Hermione said quickly.
"I heard you talking about poor little Myrtle," Peeves said, his eyes glittering. "Talking about poor little Myrtle, how rude."
He glanced at Augustus, then suddenly zipped to a far corner, took a deep breath, and yelled, "Hey, Myrtle!"
"Oh no, Peeves! Don't tell her what I said—she'll get really upset!" Hermione whispered frantically. "I was only joking! I don't really mind her—oh, hi Myrtle…"
A plump little ghost girl floated in, her face one of the most gloomy and miserable Harry had ever seen. Half of it was hidden by her lanky hair and thick, pearly glasses.
"What?" she said coldly.
"Hi, Myrtle," Hermione said in a falsely cheerful voice. "Nice to see you outside of the bathroom for once."
Myrtle sniffled.
"Miss Granger was just talking about you—" Peeves whispered mischievously in Myrtle's ear.
"I was just saying... saying... you look lovely tonight," Hermione said, shooting daggers at Peeves with her eyes.
Myrtle gave Hermione a very suspicious look.
"You're making fun of me," she said—and then, big ghostly tears started pouring out of her transparent little eyes.
"No way! Miss Myrtle, you're the most charming ghost I've ever seen," Augustus said gently. "So graceful and lovely. I think Peeves must've misunderstood what Hermione meant."
"Really? You think I'm charming?" Myrtle looked doubtfully at her see-through body, then picked up her long ghostly dress and spun around. A faint blush appeared on her face. "Even though I know it's not really true… thank you."
Peeves watched this heartwarming moment unfold with a pout, then rolled his eyes dramatically before shouting from the air, "Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Poor, crying, moaning Myrtle!"
In a flash, Augustus pulled out his silver wand and shot a jet of black light at Peeves. The poltergeist suddenly clutched his throat, choking out a hoarse, garbled sound, his face frozen in terror as he shot off into the distance.
"Oh no," Hermione said sadly.
Myrtle suddenly burst into sobs and fled the dungeon classroom.
Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington—better known as Nearly Headless Nick—floated over from the crowd.
"Having a good time?" he asked.
"Not bad," Augustus nodded. "The ghosts are all very friendly."
"Pretty good turnout too," Nick said proudly. "The Wailing Widow came all the way from Kent... It's almost time for my speech, I should probably go remind the band—"
He didn't get the chance. The music suddenly stopped, and everyone in the dungeon classroom fell silent, looking around excitedly as a hunting horn sounded.
"Oh no," Nick groaned.
Twelve ghostly horses charged straight through the dungeon walls, each one carrying a headless rider. The whole crowd burst into applause; Harry joined in too—until he saw the look on Nick's face and awkwardly stopped.
"Headless horsemen, huh? Looks impressive," Augustus thought to himself.
The twelve ghost horses galloped into the center of the dance floor and reared up dramatically, kicking their hooves in the air. Leading the pack was a big ghost with a bushy beard, holding his severed head under one arm and blowing his horn.
He jumped off his horse and held his head up high so he could look down at everyone from above—which made the crowd howl with laughter. He strode up to Nearly Headless Nick, jamming his head back onto his neck with a sloppy fit.
"Nick!" he bellowed. "How's the head? Still hanging on?"
He let out a loud, raucous laugh and slapped Nick on the shoulder.
"Welcome, Patrick," Nick replied stiffly.
"Living folks!" Sir Patrick spotted Augustus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione and leapt in mock surprise—his head promptly falling off again to more laughter.
"Hilarious," Nick muttered with a frown.
"Oh, ignore old Nick!" Patrick's head shouted from the floor. "He's still bitter we wouldn't let him join the Headless Hunt. I mean, just look at him—"
"I think," Harry said quickly, catching Nick's pleading glance, "Nick is very... um... scary! And... uh..."
"Sir Nicholas is clearly a very gracious host," Augustus added smoothly.
"Hah!" Patrick's head yelled. "I bet he told you to say that!"
"Ladies and gents, if I may have your attention!" Nick called out loudly, striding to the podium and stepping under a cold blue spotlight. "My late lords, ladies, and gentlemen, I come to you with a heavy heart..."
But nobody heard the rest. Patrick and the Headless Hunt had started playing some kind of ghostly head hockey game, and the entire audience turned to watch. Nick tried in vain to win back the crowd, but Patrick's flying head whizzed past him to loud cheers, and he gave up.
Augustus watched the wild ghostly party with quiet amusement. Ghosts in this world really were something else—openly living (or un-living) at school, with their own social circles and activities.
What was most interesting was that they didn't seem to see themselves as different from the living at all. They got along with people just fine.
"....."