Following the stench, Pomona found a piece of rotten beef in a corner of the kitchen. She was nearly driven mad with anger.
"What is going on here?" she demanded of the House-elves.
The little elves looked at her fearfully, but none of them stepped forward.
"This is not only unsanitary, it's wasteful! Why didn't you take it out sooner or freeze it?" Pomona continued to demand.
Still, no one answered. Pomona felt as though she were putting on a one-woman show.
She began searching through the kitchen again, clearing out all the other wasted ingredients. They piled up like a mountain.
So much food—how many people could it have fed?
Just as she was about to start scolding them, Albus Dumbledore appeared at the kitchen entrance. Being so tall, he had to bend down to enter.
Pomona knew someone must have tipped him off, but she would not back down simply because the Headmaster had shown up.
She waited with righteous indignation for Dumbledore to plead for those who had made the mistake.
"Do you have any questions, Professor?" Dumbledore asked.
"A few," Pomona said, restraining herself and choosing what she felt were the most rational words.
"I can see that," Dumbledore said, looking at the wasted food she had cleared out.
"You have nothing else to say?" Pomona asked.
"These are for a party," Dumbledore said.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Pomona thought she had misheard him.
"Have you ever attended the ghosts' deathday party?" Dumbledore asked.
"I heard they only invite the dead," Pomona said.
"Then you may not know that the 'food' at a deathday party has to be rotten. The ghosts feel that way, they can taste a little of the flavor," Dumbledore said.
She did not understand.
"Put them away. Someone will need