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unforthNo deep thoughts. I spent all day writing, and my brain is past deep thoughts. I only wrote at all because I couldn't convince myself that writing two thousand words of grant was a substitute, and I wrote as close to the bare minimum as I have in a while. But it's done. And soon, very soon, I'll be on to more fun parts. (this stuff was fun, but it didn't end up all that tied in to the story, so I'm having to think and consider how to make it fit in better, which makes it harder to write. :) )
“Oh,” Fred sounded disappointed. “But just think about it! While all of the Aurors are questioning the students, the real culprit could be getting away!”
“So you think there is no chance that student was behind it?” I asked, doing my best to conceal my doubt. As much as I didn’t want to believe it of one of my classmates, there were some of them – Caius Serence came to mind – who I would believe capable of anything, and Auror Weasley’s brusque attitude and utterly strict adherence to rules and order had not made her popular, to say the least. Of course, being strict didn’t get one murdered, or else Professor Lestrange and Headmaster Nigellus both would have been killed years since.
Both Marcus and Fred, on the other hand, clearly thought there was no chance of this whatsoever, and they looked at me as if I must have been insane to even suggest that a student might have been behind the crime.
“Right,” I muttered.
“So where should we begin?” asked Fred. Apparently, by asking what I did, I had agreed to help.
“I think we should start by talking to the ghosts,” I said. “Since Auror Weasley was murdered, maybe her ghost is wandering around.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Marcus.
We consulted for a minute or two and then split up. We would all look around until one of us found a ghost; we’d meet back up in Classroom 4 – which was just down the hall from the Charms classroom where the crime had taken place – in 15 minutes, and we’d see what we could find out.
My 15 minutes were spent utterly fruitlessly; I wandered around all of the places I knew the Gray Lady or the Fat Friar, but I couldn’t find either of them, and was feeling slightly frustrated when I arrived at Classroom 4. A few minutes after I got there, Marcus arrived, trailed by Sir Nicholas, who seemed puzzled, and then Fred came a moment later; she was also alone. Fred and Marcus both took up positions near me, so we were standing in a line facing the ghost. It felt like we were about to begin our own interrogation.
“So what’s this all about?” asked Sir Nicholas, and his tone sounded more nonplussed than puzzled.
“We were wondering if you might be able to help us,” I began.
“We’re investigating Auror Weasley’s death,” enthused Fred.
“Oh dear,” replied Sir Nicholas, his face taking a sad cast. He hung his head in a reflection of this sadness, but his neck couldn’t support the action and his head flopped off, as it was wont to do, to dangle by its barely-connected tendril of flesh. He affixed it back in place as I turned away in disgust.
Marcus took my hand and gave it a fortifying squeeze, and shot me a look to match, and I blushed and turned back. I was happy though; he didn’t release my hand.
“It’s a very sad business,” Sir Nicholas continued, “but I don’t see how I can help.”
“We thought perhaps the Auror might have joined the ranks of the school ghosts, given how she died,” explained Marcus.
Nicholas frowned. “Not that I know of, I’m afraid. And I think I’d know if she had; usually we know immediately when another joins us, something about the process that creates us makes it impossible for us not to know.” His frown deepened though. “Then again,” he eyed us, a considering look in his eyes, “with what has been going on in the dungeons, it’s possible that we might not have…felt…it. The things that happen down there,” he added, shuddering, “are very disruptive to the latent psycho-spiritual barriers around Hogwarts, you know, very disruptive, very disconcerting.”
I glanced at Marcus, and remembered what the Gray Lady had said about what was happening in the dungeon, and what Marcus had told me about the things that had escaped the night of the Zeppelin attacks. “What is happening down there?” I asked, unable to repress my curiosity.
“An abomination,” Sir Nicholas replied in a tone that made it clear that he would not explain further. He then gave lie to the tone, but adding, “souls were never meant to be used in such a barbaric fashion.” And he snapped his mouth shut, clearly intent on saying no more on the matter.
“Could you check for us – check if she’s a ghost?” asked Fred.
“Well…I suppose so,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll return shortly. I tell you, though, I don’t expect to find anything.”
“We’ll be in the Charms classroom,” Marcus said, and I stared at him, but Nicholas didn’t seem to find this odd, and he just nodded and floated through the floor.
“We can’t go in there,” I exclaimed.
“How can we investigate if we don’t?”
“I…I…since when are you the one who breaks the rules?” I spluttered. Fred laughed.
“Oh,” Fred sounded disappointed. “But just think about it! While all of the Aurors are questioning the students, the real culprit could be getting away!”
“So you think there is no chance that student was behind it?” I asked, doing my best to conceal my doubt. As much as I didn’t want to believe it of one of my classmates, there were some of them – Caius Serence came to mind – who I would believe capable of anything, and Auror Weasley’s brusque attitude and utterly strict adherence to rules and order had not made her popular, to say the least. Of course, being strict didn’t get one murdered, or else Professor Lestrange and Headmaster Nigellus both would have been killed years since.
Both Marcus and Fred, on the other hand, clearly thought there was no chance of this whatsoever, and they looked at me as if I must have been insane to even suggest that a student might have been behind the crime.
“Right,” I muttered.
“So where should we begin?” asked Fred. Apparently, by asking what I did, I had agreed to help.
“I think we should start by talking to the ghosts,” I said. “Since Auror Weasley was murdered, maybe her ghost is wandering around.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Marcus.
We consulted for a minute or two and then split up. We would all look around until one of us found a ghost; we’d meet back up in Classroom 4 – which was just down the hall from the Charms classroom where the crime had taken place – in 15 minutes, and we’d see what we could find out.
My 15 minutes were spent utterly fruitlessly; I wandered around all of the places I knew the Gray Lady or the Fat Friar, but I couldn’t find either of them, and was feeling slightly frustrated when I arrived at Classroom 4. A few minutes after I got there, Marcus arrived, trailed by Sir Nicholas, who seemed puzzled, and then Fred came a moment later; she was also alone. Fred and Marcus both took up positions near me, so we were standing in a line facing the ghost. It felt like we were about to begin our own interrogation.
“So what’s this all about?” asked Sir Nicholas, and his tone sounded more nonplussed than puzzled.
“We were wondering if you might be able to help us,” I began.
“We’re investigating Auror Weasley’s death,” enthused Fred.
“Oh dear,” replied Sir Nicholas, his face taking a sad cast. He hung his head in a reflection of this sadness, but his neck couldn’t support the action and his head flopped off, as it was wont to do, to dangle by its barely-connected tendril of flesh. He affixed it back in place as I turned away in disgust.
Marcus took my hand and gave it a fortifying squeeze, and shot me a look to match, and I blushed and turned back. I was happy though; he didn’t release my hand.
“It’s a very sad business,” Sir Nicholas continued, “but I don’t see how I can help.”
“We thought perhaps the Auror might have joined the ranks of the school ghosts, given how she died,” explained Marcus.
Nicholas frowned. “Not that I know of, I’m afraid. And I think I’d know if she had; usually we know immediately when another joins us, something about the process that creates us makes it impossible for us not to know.” His frown deepened though. “Then again,” he eyed us, a considering look in his eyes, “with what has been going on in the dungeons, it’s possible that we might not have…felt…it. The things that happen down there,” he added, shuddering, “are very disruptive to the latent psycho-spiritual barriers around Hogwarts, you know, very disruptive, very disconcerting.”
I glanced at Marcus, and remembered what the Gray Lady had said about what was happening in the dungeon, and what Marcus had told me about the things that had escaped the night of the Zeppelin attacks. “What is happening down there?” I asked, unable to repress my curiosity.
“An abomination,” Sir Nicholas replied in a tone that made it clear that he would not explain further. He then gave lie to the tone, but adding, “souls were never meant to be used in such a barbaric fashion.” And he snapped his mouth shut, clearly intent on saying no more on the matter.
“Could you check for us – check if she’s a ghost?” asked Fred.
“Well…I suppose so,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll return shortly. I tell you, though, I don’t expect to find anything.”
“We’ll be in the Charms classroom,” Marcus said, and I stared at him, but Nicholas didn’t seem to find this odd, and he just nodded and floated through the floor.
“We can’t go in there,” I exclaimed.
“How can we investigate if we don’t?”
“I…I…since when are you the one who breaks the rules?” I spluttered. Fred laughed.
