Histories
Summary: Ten years after the war, it's time for a new edition of Hogwarts: a History. 3800 words. Gen. PG-13.
"Histories"
He was carrying a few more pounds than the last time I'd seen him, but he was still slightly built and short for his age. The oversized check shirt and cord trousers under a plain black cloak had become the defining fashion for teenage wizards in the last ten years, but I never saw anyone else wear it the way he did. His black hair dipped over the centre of his forehead, obscuring the scar.
It was all for nothing. Witches and wizards nudged each other as he came into the bar and heads turned to follow his progress across the room.
He dropped onto a stool beside me. In a corner, a blonde witch started whispering to her friend. I fiddled with my cuff links.
'Roger.'
'Harry. You're looking well.'
Stan had the Firewhiskies ready and we knocked them back without speaking. Absent friends.
'Thanks for coming.' I hadn't been sure he would.
Harry twisted a foot around the stool's crossbar and rocked it backwards and forwards. 'Ginny said your message sounded interesting', he admitted. 'How can we help?'
I leaned forward. 'It was Lisa's idea.'
'Turpin?'
'Yeah.' I watched him jump to the wrong conclusion. 'We're Puffskein Press.'
'Hideous Histories?' Harry's smile lit up his face. 'Ginny got those for James. He thinks they're brilliant. All right, I'm interested. What's the idea?'
'We've secured the rights to bring out a new edition of Hogwarts: a History.'
I'd expected him to say so what? but he was too shrewd for that. He took his glasses off and polished them on the corner of his cloak. 'I see.'
'It's definitely time for a new edition,' I told him. 'The one in the library is brilliant as far as it goes - actually, it's a really exciting read.' I grinned as he raised an eyebrow. 'Something tells me you've heard that before. Anyway, the current edition stops just after Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald.' Harry's lips tightened into a thin line. 'You know what I am going to ask you, don't you?'
'I think another drink would be a good idea.'
'You can say no.' I said, swirling the liquid around in the glass. 'In fact, if you've any reservations at all we'd prefer you to say no. But we'd rather you said yes. We'd like to produce an up-to-date and truthful Hogwarts: a History for the next generation of students. What do you think?'
Harry drained his Firewhisky. 'I think it's a great idea. But I'll need to talk to Ginny. Quite a lot of it concerns her.'
I pushed my business card across the table. A tiny purple Puffskein stretched and yawned at him then went back to sleep. Harry smiled. 'She'll like that. Ginny has a soft spot for Puffskeins.'
I didn't tell him I knew that.
--
'Bad day.'
Harry nodded. When he spoke, his voice was rough. 'I didn't.' He stopped. 'I didn't realise it would take so long.' It wasn't what he had been going to say.
He'd been in the office at Puffskein for the best part of a week, dictating to an eager quill while Lisa and I hovered outside and pretended to be busy. At intervals we peeked in through the Sneak-O-Glass: Harry knew we could see him though he couldn't see us. Sometimes he sat staring at the parchment, sometimes he strode around the office stamping on the carpet and waving his hands in the air like an oversized Professor Flitwick. Once we'd spotted him with his head down on the desk: I'd thought he was asleep until Lisa had pointed out the quill moving steadily across the page.
'Tea?' He'd banged on the door to indicate a break but I'd learned to anticipate him. I'd seen it several times. He'd shake his head and go to the window, staring out across Regent's Park, absolutely still. Then he'd come back and sit down, clasp his hands together and dictate so fast that the quill had to fly across the page to keep up. He'd do twenty minutes of this then bang for tea.
Today had been different. He'd stopped and started and, for the first time, gone back to read through what the quill had written, crossing it through with bold black lines. After several mis-starts he seemed to have found his flow. I had no idea what he was reliving. The deal had been that we didn't look until his part was complete.
I looked at him when I was sure he wasn't looking at me. 'Do you want to talk about it?'
'I am talking about it.'
'Yeah. Sorry.'
'No. Cheers.' He sipped his tea. 'Foul weather.' It was pissing down; a typical August afternoon in London. 'The kids'll be driving Ginny mad.'
'Did you say they were going to the zoo?'
Harry smiled. 'All those years we went when I was a kid and I never even knew there was a Magical section.'
'I don't suppose Ginny ever saw the Muggle animals either.'
'True. She thinks they're weird. Funnily enough though, Lily prefers them. She likes the penguins.' He put the mug down on the table. 'I'd better get back. Another half hour then I'm done for the day.'
--
Something wet slid down my cheek. I wanted to open my eyes but I didn't dare. If I opened my eyes, he'd see me. If I moved, he'd see me. There was a stink of wet dog and blood. I watched him step towards me, grinning. 'Roger'. His huge hands gripped my shoulders and shook me like a rabbit. My eyes flew open -
- and it was Lisa calling my name. Water on my cheek, not blood and brains. I wiped the tear away with a shaking hand. 'I'm OK.'
She pulled my hand away from my cheek to stop me scratching. 'Nightmare?'
'Only a little one.' She rolled her eyes at me. 'Honestly, Lis. I woke up.'
'There's some Dreamless in the kitchen if you want it -'
'I'll be all right.' I hesitated. 'Stay with me?'
'I'll get my things.' She thumped around in her bedroom for a few minutes before returning with her wand, a glass of water and a book. I curled up in her arms, clinging to her hand with both of mine like a drowning man clutching a straw. I wondered if Harry clung as tightly to Ginny when the nightmares came back. Then I remembered that Ginny had nightmares of her own.
--
Two weeks later, the three of us gathered in the meeting room, champagne glasses in our hands.
'What happens now?' Harry indicated the huge book on the table.
Lisa topped up his glass. 'It should be straightforward. This one - the Hogwarts one - is the Copywrite. When we merge the new contents with the old, it will update the one at the Ministry automagically. Everyone who's paid for an upgrade will find the new content in their books; everyone else will find a discreet note on the last page telling them a new edition is now available.'
'Sounds convenient.'
She flashed him a smile. 'If it works. But it should do. Seamus and Anthony have checked everything.'
'Lawyers,' I explained, as Harry looked confused. 'Seamus finds loopholes and Anthony blocks them. They're very good.'
He shook his head. 'Somehow I never saw Seamus as a lawyer.'
'I don't think anyone did. Over to you, Lisa.'
She put down her untouched glass and picked up her wand, doing that complicated flick and swish that I'd never been able to master. 'Scribo.'
We stared expectantly at the blank parchment. Nothing happened.
'That's odd.' Lisa tapped a page with her wand. 'Scribo.'
Still nothing.
'What happens now?' Harry asked.
'We finish this excellent champagne.' I suited the action to the word. 'And then we start thinking.'
--
Lisa was curled up on the couch by the empty fireplace, sucking the end of her wand as she corrected the page proofs for Ghastly Goblins. Her feet were tucked under her and she was wrapped in a black shawl despite the warmth of the evening. I had my feet on the coffee table while I read Celestina Warbeck's autobiography. We'd been lucky to get this: it was going to be a sizzler. It was ghost-written, but Puffskein employed the best ghosts in the business.
'Well, bugger me.'
I lifted my head and stared at her. 'That's not a very ladylike thing to say.'
'Look at this.' She tossed Goblins across the room. 'First page.'
'Goblins are grotesque, but not all goblins are grotty. Goblins -'
'Before that.'
'The events described actually happened, and the Beasts and Beings concerned should jolly well be ashamed of themselves, living or dead.'
'Living or dead,' she repeated. 'Living or dead. What about the ghosts?'
'Well, bugger me.' I put Celestina to one side. 'We're going to have to talk to the Bloody Baron and Helena Ravenclaw, aren't we?'
'I think that's it.' Lisa was nodding vigorously. 'We haven't got their permission. I don't suppose Anthony even thought about it when he was drawing up the waivers.' She hesitated. 'Do you want me to go?'
I shook my head. 'Your diary's busier than mine. Besides, it'll be nice to see the old place again'
'Roger -'
'I need to go back. This is as good a time as any.'
--
In the middle of the long summer break, Hogwarts was vast and silent. I sorted out the formalities with the Headmistress, promised to drop in on old Flitwick for afternoon tea, and set off on my quest. A tip-off from a friendly portrait put me on the right track and I ran the Baron to earth in the castle kitchens. He was watching the house-elves bake pumpkin pies while they ignored him. I stood in the doorway, wondering how to handle the conversation. If it was a conversation. No one had ever heard the Bloody Baron talk.
A hand tugged at my pocket. 'Master Davies! Is you returning as a teacher?'
I had no idea what the house-elf was called but I had a vague idea that it was the one who'd dusted out the Ravenclaw dormitories every morning - in which case it knew a good deal more about me than my own mother did. This was going to need careful handling.
'Not yet.' I shook my head. 'But if I do, I'll come and let you know. Are you well?'
The house-elf lit up like a Christmas tree. 'So well and so happy, Master Davies, thank you for asking. Is you wanting something to eat or drink?'
'Actually, I came to see the Bloody Baron.'
A disapproving tut. 'That one is always here watching the cooking.'
It was a side of the Baron I'd not previously encountered but I didn't know if it would make my job any easier. I walked up to him and bowed. 'Good morning.'
Looking surprised, he bowed back.
'Look delicious, don't they?' I waved a hand at the stack of pies cooling on a long table. 'One of the things I miss most about Hogwarts. I'm Roger Davies, by the way. I was in Ravenclaw.' At this point I'd normally have handed him a business card, or put my arm round his shoulders to draw him away. 'I came here especially to talk to you.'
His eyes widened and his mouth opened. I thought I heard a soft woo.
I explained our predicament. At intervals he nodded. When I mentioned Helena Ravenclaw he wrung his hands and went woo again.
I pulled a parchment from my pocket and unfolded it. Entering into a binding legal agreement with a ghost who didn't speak and couldn't write was a challenge, but if Anthony had done his job we were going to be all right.
'I am going to read the text of a legal agreement out loud,' I read from the card. 'Please nod if you understand what I have said and are legally of age to enter into a contract.' I thought I caught a faint smile and then he was looking tragic again. 'Please nod to confirm that you are the Bloody Baron, House Ghost for Slytherin and legally resident at Hogwarts.' Another nod.
Twenty minutes later I had the Baron's consent under wrap. I gave him a deep bow. 'It's been a pleasure, sir. Thank you very much for your time. I hope you'll enjoy the new edition of the book.'
The Baron gave a little wave, as if to say Don't mention it. Then he started and looked down in irritation. One of the house-elves was trying to dab his bloodstains with a damp cloth.
--
Unlike the Bloody Baron, the Grey Lady rarely wandered around the castle. It took a couple of false starts - the staircases had shifted position since I'd been a pupil and one of them refused to go back - but eventually I located Ravenclaw Tower. A few minutes and a stiff climb later and I was smiling at a bronze doorknocker moulded into the shape of an eagle.
I knocked.
'I have danced with you, laughed with you, sung with you, wept with you, and yet I will never hold you. Who am I?'
'My own reflection,' I said and opened the door.
--
They say you never forget your Common Room. At least, we Ravenclaws never do, and as I stood there in the doorway, I remembered all the reasons why. Not just the people who made the House what it was - people come and go - but the sheer beauty of the room itself. A vast and airy space in blue and bronze, with a canopy of stars above to echo the night sky. Arched windows, channelling the sunlight into every alcove, and so high above the ground that the first time I'd looked out I felt like an eagle. It was a space of light and air, a place for dreaming.
A place for business.
She was waiting for me beside her statue, half turned away, contemplating the shadows of clouds as they shifted across the carpet. .
'Madam Ravenclaw,' I said. 'Um. Madam'.
She turned.
I had always thought her beautiful, with her waist-length hair and slender figure, but something Harry had said must have rubbed off on me. A coldness seemed to emanate from her.
'I'm Roger Davies,' I told her. 'I was in your House.'
'I remember.' Her voice was low and musical.
'I have a favour to ask of you.'
'I know.'
I waited.
'I am afraid,' she said, 'that I cannot help you.'
The exact same words she'd said to Harry. I felt the back of my neck grow hot with anger. 'Can't, Madam, or won't?'
'You must decide that for yourself.' She turned away.
I reached out to yank her back. Cold sluiced through me. 'You're not going anywhere.' I had no idea how I was going to stop her. 'Sit!'
To my astonishment, she sank into an armchair, arranging her long skirts around her.
I squatted beside her. 'Listen. Harry Potter has told me your story.' I saw the flush of shame across her face. 'There is no need for us to repeat it, but I want to tell the story of the diadem, and the part it played in defeating the Dark Lord. The Baron has given his permission for the truth to be told at last. Will you?'
Her eyes were huge as she dragged her gaze up from the floor. 'The shame,' she murmured, so quietly that I had to lean close to hear her. 'I have brought shame on my mother's name.'
'And made up for it.' If she had been a living woman I would have taken her hand. 'Isn't it time to move on?'
Translucent tears glimmered in her eyes. 'I cannot.'
'Cannot?'
'I could not bear it.' Helena Ravenclaw rubbed her eyes and stood up. 'I am sorry. One day I shall be ready, but that day has not yet come. You must find another path.'
She was fading away. 'What if I come back tomorrow?'
'You will not find me.'
She drifted through the wall and was gone.
--
Once I'd finished cursing I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down and went for a wander around the grounds. The sun was blazing on the lawns and heat shimmered above the lake. The silence was unnerving and after a few minutes I went back inside, to the place I'd been avoiding.
The flagged stone floor was spotless and the dark banister gleamed with Mrs. Scowrer's finest. In front of the leaded window was a vase of lilacs; I could smell their heavy fragrance from ten feet away. Even the grained sandstone walls looked clean, but they couldn't be. How could they get it clean? My fingers twitched. I shoved my hands into my pockets and tried to step forward for a closer look.
My legs went rigid, locking me in place. I tried to take a step backward, but my feet had turned to lead. The room grew dark. It's just a cloud, I told myself. A cloud moving over the sun. But I could smell his breath on the fetid air. If I moved he'd see me.
I heard again the footsteps on the stairs. In a moment Colin would be coming into view. In front of me Greyback froze, sniffing the air.
And then he reached into the shadows under the stairs and hauled Dennis Creevey from his hiding place. I tried to move but it wasn't possible. A spray of blond hair, flesh and blood and bone as Dennis' head shattered on the wall. I was covered in it, covered in blood and brains -
No.
I opened my eyes and pulled my hand down from my cheek. My fingers were covered in blood. I could still hear Colin screaming.
A vase of flowers. An unmarked wall. An empty stairwell. It was all over, years ago. I was the only one here. Blood surged back into my legs. When the pins and needles had passed, I hobbled away.
--
'It won't spoil your good looks.' Lisa put the bloody flannel into the basin and put her wand away.
'Thanks.' My hands had been too shaky for Healing charms for a very long time.
She gave me a Lisa look. 'You said it would be OK.'
'It pretty much was.' Another look. 'Better, anyway.'
She took out a tissue and wiped bloody water delicately from her fingertips. 'Your face was so bad. The Healers thought Greyback had bitten you.'
I knew she wasn't talking about today. 'All my own work.' A splinter of bone had sliced my face open. I'd ripped it out, and all the blood and tissue that came with it. When they'd found me, I'd torn off half my face and was starting on the other half. I'd been lucky: Greyback had gone after Colin.
My hand drifted up towards my cheek. She pulled it down and covered it with her own. 'Rog, I need to tell you something.'
'You're going to join the Holyhead Harpies. No?' I tugged my hand free. 'Okay. Mike Corner has asked you to move in with him and you're going to say yes.' It had been a long time since I saw Lisa lost for words. I'd forgotten how enjoyable it was. 'I wondered what was taking him so long.'
She blushed. 'He did ask earlier. I said no.'
'Because of me?' It was in her eyes. 'Sweet of you, but I'll be fine. Honest.'
'I'll worry -'
'Don't. If I can't sleep, I'll find a nice witch to dally the night away. I was the Prophet's most eligible bachelor two years in a row, remember?'
'About that -' Her eyes sparkled. 'It's probably a good idea if you hide the press cuttings. I found them while I was looking for toothpaste. You don't want to come across as shallow and self-centred, do you?'
'Heaven forbid. Now, what are we going to tell Harry?'
--
The bar seemed unchanged since our first meeting. There was a blonde witch, whispering to a friend, a pair of cute redheads giggling into their Butterbeers. A skinny figure making his way across the room towards us, his cloak flapping around his ankles. I wondered idly if anyone had told him you could get them shortened.
We knocked back our Firewhiskies and dumped the glasses on the silver tray.
Harry raised an eyebrow. 'You said there was news. Has she changed her mind?'
Lisa and I exchanged a glance. You tell him. No, you.
Doing what she said had got me this far. No reason to break the habit now. 'No.'
'It was a thousand years ago!'
Lisa shrugged. 'I don't think that makes a difference to ghosts,' she said. 'But we found a better way. I think - I really think, Harry - that you're going to love this.' There was a reason Lisa did the marketing. She bent down and pulled a painting from her bag, then put it face up on the table.
Harry stared.
She'd done a magnificent job, but Lisa always does. The Hogwarts Express, lovingly detailed in pink and green with smoke bursting from its brass chimney, erupted across the page and slammed to a halt just in front of a miniature Harry Potter. He was a scrawny child with huge moon-shaped glasses and unwashed hair that utterly failed to hide the lightning scar. She'd even added a tiny Gryffindor scarf. I wasn't sure about that: Harry hadn't been Sorted yet. In the background was a shiny Muggle train in red, white and blue, the colours of the Muggle King.
'HARRY POTTER!' screamed the title, and then in smaller letters, 'and the Philosopher's Stone.'
'It's fiction.' Lisa said unnecessarily. 'No one can stop us publishing fiction. Alive or dead. We'll do a set of seven, one for each year. Everyone will buy them. You'll be rich.'
'He's rich already,' I pointed out, but nobody was listening to me.
Harry ran a finger over the picture, tracing the smooth outline of his own face. The painted Harry smiled and waved at us.
'What do you think?' Lisa's voice was breathless. 'Harry?'
For a moment Harry's face was unreadable. Then he smiled.
'I think it's brilliant,' he said.
--
Notes: written for snorkackcatcher as part of springtime_gen and posted there on 18 May 2010. Thanks to kennahijja for the beta!
"Histories"
He was carrying a few more pounds than the last time I'd seen him, but he was still slightly built and short for his age. The oversized check shirt and cord trousers under a plain black cloak had become the defining fashion for teenage wizards in the last ten years, but I never saw anyone else wear it the way he did. His black hair dipped over the centre of his forehead, obscuring the scar.
It was all for nothing. Witches and wizards nudged each other as he came into the bar and heads turned to follow his progress across the room.
He dropped onto a stool beside me. In a corner, a blonde witch started whispering to her friend. I fiddled with my cuff links.
'Roger.'
'Harry. You're looking well.'
Stan had the Firewhiskies ready and we knocked them back without speaking. Absent friends.
'Thanks for coming.' I hadn't been sure he would.
Harry twisted a foot around the stool's crossbar and rocked it backwards and forwards. 'Ginny said your message sounded interesting', he admitted. 'How can we help?'
I leaned forward. 'It was Lisa's idea.'
'Turpin?'
'Yeah.' I watched him jump to the wrong conclusion. 'We're Puffskein Press.'
'Hideous Histories?' Harry's smile lit up his face. 'Ginny got those for James. He thinks they're brilliant. All right, I'm interested. What's the idea?'
'We've secured the rights to bring out a new edition of Hogwarts: a History.'
I'd expected him to say so what? but he was too shrewd for that. He took his glasses off and polished them on the corner of his cloak. 'I see.'
'It's definitely time for a new edition,' I told him. 'The one in the library is brilliant as far as it goes - actually, it's a really exciting read.' I grinned as he raised an eyebrow. 'Something tells me you've heard that before. Anyway, the current edition stops just after Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald.' Harry's lips tightened into a thin line. 'You know what I am going to ask you, don't you?'
'I think another drink would be a good idea.'
'You can say no.' I said, swirling the liquid around in the glass. 'In fact, if you've any reservations at all we'd prefer you to say no. But we'd rather you said yes. We'd like to produce an up-to-date and truthful Hogwarts: a History for the next generation of students. What do you think?'
Harry drained his Firewhisky. 'I think it's a great idea. But I'll need to talk to Ginny. Quite a lot of it concerns her.'
I pushed my business card across the table. A tiny purple Puffskein stretched and yawned at him then went back to sleep. Harry smiled. 'She'll like that. Ginny has a soft spot for Puffskeins.'
I didn't tell him I knew that.
--
'Bad day.'
Harry nodded. When he spoke, his voice was rough. 'I didn't.' He stopped. 'I didn't realise it would take so long.' It wasn't what he had been going to say.
He'd been in the office at Puffskein for the best part of a week, dictating to an eager quill while Lisa and I hovered outside and pretended to be busy. At intervals we peeked in through the Sneak-O-Glass: Harry knew we could see him though he couldn't see us. Sometimes he sat staring at the parchment, sometimes he strode around the office stamping on the carpet and waving his hands in the air like an oversized Professor Flitwick. Once we'd spotted him with his head down on the desk: I'd thought he was asleep until Lisa had pointed out the quill moving steadily across the page.
'Tea?' He'd banged on the door to indicate a break but I'd learned to anticipate him. I'd seen it several times. He'd shake his head and go to the window, staring out across Regent's Park, absolutely still. Then he'd come back and sit down, clasp his hands together and dictate so fast that the quill had to fly across the page to keep up. He'd do twenty minutes of this then bang for tea.
Today had been different. He'd stopped and started and, for the first time, gone back to read through what the quill had written, crossing it through with bold black lines. After several mis-starts he seemed to have found his flow. I had no idea what he was reliving. The deal had been that we didn't look until his part was complete.
I looked at him when I was sure he wasn't looking at me. 'Do you want to talk about it?'
'I am talking about it.'
'Yeah. Sorry.'
'No. Cheers.' He sipped his tea. 'Foul weather.' It was pissing down; a typical August afternoon in London. 'The kids'll be driving Ginny mad.'
'Did you say they were going to the zoo?'
Harry smiled. 'All those years we went when I was a kid and I never even knew there was a Magical section.'
'I don't suppose Ginny ever saw the Muggle animals either.'
'True. She thinks they're weird. Funnily enough though, Lily prefers them. She likes the penguins.' He put the mug down on the table. 'I'd better get back. Another half hour then I'm done for the day.'
--
Something wet slid down my cheek. I wanted to open my eyes but I didn't dare. If I opened my eyes, he'd see me. If I moved, he'd see me. There was a stink of wet dog and blood. I watched him step towards me, grinning. 'Roger'. His huge hands gripped my shoulders and shook me like a rabbit. My eyes flew open -
- and it was Lisa calling my name. Water on my cheek, not blood and brains. I wiped the tear away with a shaking hand. 'I'm OK.'
She pulled my hand away from my cheek to stop me scratching. 'Nightmare?'
'Only a little one.' She rolled her eyes at me. 'Honestly, Lis. I woke up.'
'There's some Dreamless in the kitchen if you want it -'
'I'll be all right.' I hesitated. 'Stay with me?'
'I'll get my things.' She thumped around in her bedroom for a few minutes before returning with her wand, a glass of water and a book. I curled up in her arms, clinging to her hand with both of mine like a drowning man clutching a straw. I wondered if Harry clung as tightly to Ginny when the nightmares came back. Then I remembered that Ginny had nightmares of her own.
--
Two weeks later, the three of us gathered in the meeting room, champagne glasses in our hands.
'What happens now?' Harry indicated the huge book on the table.
Lisa topped up his glass. 'It should be straightforward. This one - the Hogwarts one - is the Copywrite. When we merge the new contents with the old, it will update the one at the Ministry automagically. Everyone who's paid for an upgrade will find the new content in their books; everyone else will find a discreet note on the last page telling them a new edition is now available.'
'Sounds convenient.'
She flashed him a smile. 'If it works. But it should do. Seamus and Anthony have checked everything.'
'Lawyers,' I explained, as Harry looked confused. 'Seamus finds loopholes and Anthony blocks them. They're very good.'
He shook his head. 'Somehow I never saw Seamus as a lawyer.'
'I don't think anyone did. Over to you, Lisa.'
She put down her untouched glass and picked up her wand, doing that complicated flick and swish that I'd never been able to master. 'Scribo.'
We stared expectantly at the blank parchment. Nothing happened.
'That's odd.' Lisa tapped a page with her wand. 'Scribo.'
Still nothing.
'What happens now?' Harry asked.
'We finish this excellent champagne.' I suited the action to the word. 'And then we start thinking.'
--
Lisa was curled up on the couch by the empty fireplace, sucking the end of her wand as she corrected the page proofs for Ghastly Goblins. Her feet were tucked under her and she was wrapped in a black shawl despite the warmth of the evening. I had my feet on the coffee table while I read Celestina Warbeck's autobiography. We'd been lucky to get this: it was going to be a sizzler. It was ghost-written, but Puffskein employed the best ghosts in the business.
'Well, bugger me.'
I lifted my head and stared at her. 'That's not a very ladylike thing to say.'
'Look at this.' She tossed Goblins across the room. 'First page.'
'Goblins are grotesque, but not all goblins are grotty. Goblins -'
'Before that.'
'The events described actually happened, and the Beasts and Beings concerned should jolly well be ashamed of themselves, living or dead.'
'Living or dead,' she repeated. 'Living or dead. What about the ghosts?'
'Well, bugger me.' I put Celestina to one side. 'We're going to have to talk to the Bloody Baron and Helena Ravenclaw, aren't we?'
'I think that's it.' Lisa was nodding vigorously. 'We haven't got their permission. I don't suppose Anthony even thought about it when he was drawing up the waivers.' She hesitated. 'Do you want me to go?'
I shook my head. 'Your diary's busier than mine. Besides, it'll be nice to see the old place again'
'Roger -'
'I need to go back. This is as good a time as any.'
--
In the middle of the long summer break, Hogwarts was vast and silent. I sorted out the formalities with the Headmistress, promised to drop in on old Flitwick for afternoon tea, and set off on my quest. A tip-off from a friendly portrait put me on the right track and I ran the Baron to earth in the castle kitchens. He was watching the house-elves bake pumpkin pies while they ignored him. I stood in the doorway, wondering how to handle the conversation. If it was a conversation. No one had ever heard the Bloody Baron talk.
A hand tugged at my pocket. 'Master Davies! Is you returning as a teacher?'
I had no idea what the house-elf was called but I had a vague idea that it was the one who'd dusted out the Ravenclaw dormitories every morning - in which case it knew a good deal more about me than my own mother did. This was going to need careful handling.
'Not yet.' I shook my head. 'But if I do, I'll come and let you know. Are you well?'
The house-elf lit up like a Christmas tree. 'So well and so happy, Master Davies, thank you for asking. Is you wanting something to eat or drink?'
'Actually, I came to see the Bloody Baron.'
A disapproving tut. 'That one is always here watching the cooking.'
It was a side of the Baron I'd not previously encountered but I didn't know if it would make my job any easier. I walked up to him and bowed. 'Good morning.'
Looking surprised, he bowed back.
'Look delicious, don't they?' I waved a hand at the stack of pies cooling on a long table. 'One of the things I miss most about Hogwarts. I'm Roger Davies, by the way. I was in Ravenclaw.' At this point I'd normally have handed him a business card, or put my arm round his shoulders to draw him away. 'I came here especially to talk to you.'
His eyes widened and his mouth opened. I thought I heard a soft woo.
I explained our predicament. At intervals he nodded. When I mentioned Helena Ravenclaw he wrung his hands and went woo again.
I pulled a parchment from my pocket and unfolded it. Entering into a binding legal agreement with a ghost who didn't speak and couldn't write was a challenge, but if Anthony had done his job we were going to be all right.
'I am going to read the text of a legal agreement out loud,' I read from the card. 'Please nod if you understand what I have said and are legally of age to enter into a contract.' I thought I caught a faint smile and then he was looking tragic again. 'Please nod to confirm that you are the Bloody Baron, House Ghost for Slytherin and legally resident at Hogwarts.' Another nod.
Twenty minutes later I had the Baron's consent under wrap. I gave him a deep bow. 'It's been a pleasure, sir. Thank you very much for your time. I hope you'll enjoy the new edition of the book.'
The Baron gave a little wave, as if to say Don't mention it. Then he started and looked down in irritation. One of the house-elves was trying to dab his bloodstains with a damp cloth.
--
Unlike the Bloody Baron, the Grey Lady rarely wandered around the castle. It took a couple of false starts - the staircases had shifted position since I'd been a pupil and one of them refused to go back - but eventually I located Ravenclaw Tower. A few minutes and a stiff climb later and I was smiling at a bronze doorknocker moulded into the shape of an eagle.
I knocked.
'I have danced with you, laughed with you, sung with you, wept with you, and yet I will never hold you. Who am I?'
'My own reflection,' I said and opened the door.
--
They say you never forget your Common Room. At least, we Ravenclaws never do, and as I stood there in the doorway, I remembered all the reasons why. Not just the people who made the House what it was - people come and go - but the sheer beauty of the room itself. A vast and airy space in blue and bronze, with a canopy of stars above to echo the night sky. Arched windows, channelling the sunlight into every alcove, and so high above the ground that the first time I'd looked out I felt like an eagle. It was a space of light and air, a place for dreaming.
A place for business.
She was waiting for me beside her statue, half turned away, contemplating the shadows of clouds as they shifted across the carpet. .
'Madam Ravenclaw,' I said. 'Um. Madam'.
She turned.
I had always thought her beautiful, with her waist-length hair and slender figure, but something Harry had said must have rubbed off on me. A coldness seemed to emanate from her.
'I'm Roger Davies,' I told her. 'I was in your House.'
'I remember.' Her voice was low and musical.
'I have a favour to ask of you.'
'I know.'
I waited.
'I am afraid,' she said, 'that I cannot help you.'
The exact same words she'd said to Harry. I felt the back of my neck grow hot with anger. 'Can't, Madam, or won't?'
'You must decide that for yourself.' She turned away.
I reached out to yank her back. Cold sluiced through me. 'You're not going anywhere.' I had no idea how I was going to stop her. 'Sit!'
To my astonishment, she sank into an armchair, arranging her long skirts around her.
I squatted beside her. 'Listen. Harry Potter has told me your story.' I saw the flush of shame across her face. 'There is no need for us to repeat it, but I want to tell the story of the diadem, and the part it played in defeating the Dark Lord. The Baron has given his permission for the truth to be told at last. Will you?'
Her eyes were huge as she dragged her gaze up from the floor. 'The shame,' she murmured, so quietly that I had to lean close to hear her. 'I have brought shame on my mother's name.'
'And made up for it.' If she had been a living woman I would have taken her hand. 'Isn't it time to move on?'
Translucent tears glimmered in her eyes. 'I cannot.'
'Cannot?'
'I could not bear it.' Helena Ravenclaw rubbed her eyes and stood up. 'I am sorry. One day I shall be ready, but that day has not yet come. You must find another path.'
She was fading away. 'What if I come back tomorrow?'
'You will not find me.'
She drifted through the wall and was gone.
--
Once I'd finished cursing I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down and went for a wander around the grounds. The sun was blazing on the lawns and heat shimmered above the lake. The silence was unnerving and after a few minutes I went back inside, to the place I'd been avoiding.
The flagged stone floor was spotless and the dark banister gleamed with Mrs. Scowrer's finest. In front of the leaded window was a vase of lilacs; I could smell their heavy fragrance from ten feet away. Even the grained sandstone walls looked clean, but they couldn't be. How could they get it clean? My fingers twitched. I shoved my hands into my pockets and tried to step forward for a closer look.
My legs went rigid, locking me in place. I tried to take a step backward, but my feet had turned to lead. The room grew dark. It's just a cloud, I told myself. A cloud moving over the sun. But I could smell his breath on the fetid air. If I moved he'd see me.
I heard again the footsteps on the stairs. In a moment Colin would be coming into view. In front of me Greyback froze, sniffing the air.
And then he reached into the shadows under the stairs and hauled Dennis Creevey from his hiding place. I tried to move but it wasn't possible. A spray of blond hair, flesh and blood and bone as Dennis' head shattered on the wall. I was covered in it, covered in blood and brains -
No.
I opened my eyes and pulled my hand down from my cheek. My fingers were covered in blood. I could still hear Colin screaming.
A vase of flowers. An unmarked wall. An empty stairwell. It was all over, years ago. I was the only one here. Blood surged back into my legs. When the pins and needles had passed, I hobbled away.
--
'It won't spoil your good looks.' Lisa put the bloody flannel into the basin and put her wand away.
'Thanks.' My hands had been too shaky for Healing charms for a very long time.
She gave me a Lisa look. 'You said it would be OK.'
'It pretty much was.' Another look. 'Better, anyway.'
She took out a tissue and wiped bloody water delicately from her fingertips. 'Your face was so bad. The Healers thought Greyback had bitten you.'
I knew she wasn't talking about today. 'All my own work.' A splinter of bone had sliced my face open. I'd ripped it out, and all the blood and tissue that came with it. When they'd found me, I'd torn off half my face and was starting on the other half. I'd been lucky: Greyback had gone after Colin.
My hand drifted up towards my cheek. She pulled it down and covered it with her own. 'Rog, I need to tell you something.'
'You're going to join the Holyhead Harpies. No?' I tugged my hand free. 'Okay. Mike Corner has asked you to move in with him and you're going to say yes.' It had been a long time since I saw Lisa lost for words. I'd forgotten how enjoyable it was. 'I wondered what was taking him so long.'
She blushed. 'He did ask earlier. I said no.'
'Because of me?' It was in her eyes. 'Sweet of you, but I'll be fine. Honest.'
'I'll worry -'
'Don't. If I can't sleep, I'll find a nice witch to dally the night away. I was the Prophet's most eligible bachelor two years in a row, remember?'
'About that -' Her eyes sparkled. 'It's probably a good idea if you hide the press cuttings. I found them while I was looking for toothpaste. You don't want to come across as shallow and self-centred, do you?'
'Heaven forbid. Now, what are we going to tell Harry?'
--
The bar seemed unchanged since our first meeting. There was a blonde witch, whispering to a friend, a pair of cute redheads giggling into their Butterbeers. A skinny figure making his way across the room towards us, his cloak flapping around his ankles. I wondered idly if anyone had told him you could get them shortened.
We knocked back our Firewhiskies and dumped the glasses on the silver tray.
Harry raised an eyebrow. 'You said there was news. Has she changed her mind?'
Lisa and I exchanged a glance. You tell him. No, you.
Doing what she said had got me this far. No reason to break the habit now. 'No.'
'It was a thousand years ago!'
Lisa shrugged. 'I don't think that makes a difference to ghosts,' she said. 'But we found a better way. I think - I really think, Harry - that you're going to love this.' There was a reason Lisa did the marketing. She bent down and pulled a painting from her bag, then put it face up on the table.
Harry stared.
She'd done a magnificent job, but Lisa always does. The Hogwarts Express, lovingly detailed in pink and green with smoke bursting from its brass chimney, erupted across the page and slammed to a halt just in front of a miniature Harry Potter. He was a scrawny child with huge moon-shaped glasses and unwashed hair that utterly failed to hide the lightning scar. She'd even added a tiny Gryffindor scarf. I wasn't sure about that: Harry hadn't been Sorted yet. In the background was a shiny Muggle train in red, white and blue, the colours of the Muggle King.
'HARRY POTTER!' screamed the title, and then in smaller letters, 'and the Philosopher's Stone.'
'It's fiction.' Lisa said unnecessarily. 'No one can stop us publishing fiction. Alive or dead. We'll do a set of seven, one for each year. Everyone will buy them. You'll be rich.'
'He's rich already,' I pointed out, but nobody was listening to me.
Harry ran a finger over the picture, tracing the smooth outline of his own face. The painted Harry smiled and waved at us.
'What do you think?' Lisa's voice was breathless. 'Harry?'
For a moment Harry's face was unreadable. Then he smiled.
'I think it's brilliant,' he said.
--
Notes: written for snorkackcatcher as part of springtime_gen and posted there on 18 May 2010. Thanks to kennahijja for the beta!