All was quiet on the western front, as Fred made his way down to the dungeons for his promised entertainment. He had no idea where James had buggered off to, or Cecily for that matter, but he wasn't about to sit around and wait to find out. He had things to be doing.

It had become a Halloween tradition for Fred to pull a prank, and this year was going to be his last. At Hogwarts at least, so he had to make it count. Most of the time James was there with him, but Fred wasn't too bothered by his absence. They weren't little kids any more; they were their own people and he didn't want to start getting all grovelly whenever he wasn't around. Besides, James had been starting to mellow a bit. He figured it'd be safer not to ask him to join this year in case James turned around and said 'I don't think that's Sensible, Fred.' He supposed that's what authority did to a guy like James. And James was no Peter Pan. Fred, on the other hand, was determined to take Neverland with him.

Fred had borrowed James' cloak for the evening. He's forgotten how fun it was to use, sneaking around the corridors in the dark. He was half tempted to ditch the plans and cause havoc in the first year's bedrooms. Approaching the third dungeon, he braced himself.

He'd been chatting to the ghosts lately, and Nearly Headless had admitted they were celebrating Lucretia Almoneira's 800's death day and it was going to be their biggest celebration yet. Only, Lucretia was easily frightened, so it would be meticulously planned. That, in Fred's opinion, was simply asking for it. Donning the cloak, he approached the door of the rarely used third dungeon, and pushed open the heavy door as quietly as he could, and immediately he was hit by the violent smell of rancid food. Fred had to fight hard not to gag and give himself away, but took a moment to steady himself. It looked like they had last year's Halloween feast on their plates - blue furry mounds of something indistinguishable, black spots of rot adorned by dancing flies who were probably having the time of their lives.

Fred had never seen so many ghosts congregated in one place at one - it was definitely a sight to behold. Each time he focussed on one figure a new dash of wispy-blue blended into the foreground, as if they were weaving in and out of one other. Indeed, there seemed to be some sort of orderly dance, which left Fred puzzled. From the faces he could make out, their expressions all seemed to be deadly serious. Some 'party'.

Checking everything was in order, he took his first steps into the room, and skirted around the edges unnoticed. It was a big old hall, and he knew he had to be on time for this whole charade to work. He made his way to the "front" of the old dungeon hall, and climbed up a few steps and hauled himself up on to an upper balcony, nearly dropping the cloak at least three times. Just as he reached his position and readied his things, he saw Nicholas gliding to the front with his head held high. 12 O'Clock. Midnight exactly

"Good evening, lady, gentlemen, and my esteemed friends - not even till death do us part eh!" He said, raising a glass of vinegar-wine that splashed up right through him.

"Tonight, as you well know, we celebrate one of our oldest."

"She don't beat me by much!" Called out a wizened old voice from the side, causing a few murmurs.

"Our oldest member. The wonderful Lucretia Almoneira!" He announced and the whole host of spirits turned their attention to a frail old thing in ancient robes hobble her way up the stairs. Fred had never seen a ghost 'hobble' but he was loving every minute of it.

Lucretia on the other hand, looked pale as a ghost. She clearly was not thriving on the attention, and looked as if she were about to collapse from anxiety at it all.

"My dear Lucretia, would you lead the chant?"
Said Nick, leaning down so that she could hear. Lucretia looked mortified, and, hands trembling, took hold of a ghostly scroll. All eyes were on her, eyes gaping, gashes staring and chains motionless on her word. Fred found the slow pauses excruciating, and felt himself leaning forwards.

Just then his elbow knocked his stand and a large firework when whooping in to the air with a tremendous bang and fizz of orange. There was a cry of shock from the ghosts as they panicked, and Fred quickly lit the rest, sending colours and shapes (products stolen from his Dad's workshop, obviously) across the rooms. The sight beneath him was hysterical. A number of ghosts had fainted. One had drawn his sword and started an accusatory duel with another and others where just flying around aimlessly, priceless terror on their faces.

It was glorious. So glorious in fact, that when Fred lit the last firework, he toppled over and fell with a thud right on top of (or rather - through) Lucretia.

"'Ello love, mind if I join you?" He asked, and Lucretia looked so shocked she vanished into the floor in a sort of dramatic faint.

He heard wild laughter coming from the doors, and realised he had an audience. His friends had come to watch, and he was glad to see that he didn't disappoint. He beckoned them over, with Nick welcoming them flamboyantly overhead.

"Merlin's beard, Fred, you didn't hold back." Said Roxanne, with a raised eyebrow.

"James, you came! Where you been all evening?" Fred asked at the sight of his friend.

"A magician doesn't reveal his secrets." Replied James with an enigmatic smirk. What that meant, Fred didn't want to know. He was just glad he and Cecily were here.

"Class, Freddo, class, man!" Said a bruised-lipped Eamon, ruffling Fred's hair as he pulled him up.

"Gotta say, that wasn't half bad." Said a boy with a mop of messy curls on his head.

"We-hey, Bandage Boy!" Said Fred, slapping him on the back in greeting, causing the red-cheeked Ezra to grin like a fool.

It wasn't long before the group of raggedy living were handed plates of food and drink, and by the look on Quinn's face he didn't need to tell them not to try it.

Suddenly he felt something hit his back, and moments later he was swung up onto the shoulders of Eamon Finnigan.

"Three cheers for Fred, for giving you sorry lot a bit of life!" Called James, to a crowd which cheered with full throttle.

And for that night, as he behld the crowd victorious, Fred was once again King of the Castle. His name would be remembered for years to come, amongst the living and the dead.