(no subject)
Title: Moving On
Characters: Nearly Headless Nick, the Grey Lady, the Bloody Baron.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Notes and Warnings: Written in 20 minutes exactly.
Phrase: And ghosts that failed learn time forgives
crossposted to key_phrase_fics
The Headless Hunt had rejected him again. The bloody Headless Hunt - or, well not so bloody, Nicholas supposed. But annoying nonetheless.
It wasn't that it was important, he knew, but he needed something to do with his afterlife. It was so boring. So ridiculously dull.
He sighed, remembering Christmases when he was alive; beautiful food and beautiful music and warmth and light and... here he was, cold and dead, and having barely tasted a thing for centuries. He wanted to move on; if only he'd been brave. But he'd died unpleasantly, and painfully, and fearfully. And he had lost his chance at Dumbledore's "next great adventure."
The Fat Friar, of course, was cheerful - he liked Christmas, after all, and Nicholas didn't know how he did it; the ghost seemed almost alive. He was so jovial.
In contrast, the Bloody Baron scowled around at his House as though it were a prison, and Nicholas might've sympathized, but there was all that unpleasant blood, and the way the man looked at you, well. He shuddered - he'd been lucky; decapitations were so much cleaner than head wounds.
The Grey Lady of Ravenclaw, however, was the most puzzling.
"And what do you want for Christmas, Sir Nicholas?" she asked him.
"…oh, you know. The usual." He tried to look cheerful. It was hard when you were mildly transparent.
"The Baron says he'd like to leave," she said.
"Leave what? The castle?" He frowned. "But the Ministry's decreed-"
"You know what I mean. There are some of us who can't bear to leave this earthly plane," she said. "I'll admit I'm one of them. …some of us, well. Had better before they go mad." She gave him a pointed look.
"I'm not mad," said Nick.
"You haven't lost your head yet." And with that, she glided off into the stacks of the library. A most puzzling statement indeed.
Come Christmas Eve, however, there was a strange presence in the air of the castle. The leftover students were too busy with their friends and their feast to notice, and the teachers were trying to preserve what was left of school rules in a half-empty school.
But Nicholas noticed it. And he thought he'd seen a sort of light in the sunken eyes of the Baron.
So when the Grey Lady summoned him at midnight, Nicholas had a sort of hunch that Something was going to happen.
She grinned, as he saw the Baron come through the other wall. "Well, what is it?" the Baron asked. Nick had never heard him speak before; he had a surprisingly aristocratic voice.
"I arranged something with some of my alumni at the Department of Mysteries," she said. "I think you'll find that you're forgiven your past fears."
A white glow began to come over the room - less transparent than the ghosts.
"For now, I'm staying here, and now," she said. "But you two? You can go on. Happy Christmas."
Nick turned to the Baron and blinked. "… happy Christmas?"
He nodded formally, his terrible staring eyes not quite so terrible anymore. "And the same to you, Sir Nicholas."
Characters: Nearly Headless Nick, the Grey Lady, the Bloody Baron.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Notes and Warnings: Written in 20 minutes exactly.
Phrase: And ghosts that failed learn time forgives
crossposted to key_phrase_fics
The Headless Hunt had rejected him again. The bloody Headless Hunt - or, well not so bloody, Nicholas supposed. But annoying nonetheless.
It wasn't that it was important, he knew, but he needed something to do with his afterlife. It was so boring. So ridiculously dull.
He sighed, remembering Christmases when he was alive; beautiful food and beautiful music and warmth and light and... here he was, cold and dead, and having barely tasted a thing for centuries. He wanted to move on; if only he'd been brave. But he'd died unpleasantly, and painfully, and fearfully. And he had lost his chance at Dumbledore's "next great adventure."
The Fat Friar, of course, was cheerful - he liked Christmas, after all, and Nicholas didn't know how he did it; the ghost seemed almost alive. He was so jovial.
In contrast, the Bloody Baron scowled around at his House as though it were a prison, and Nicholas might've sympathized, but there was all that unpleasant blood, and the way the man looked at you, well. He shuddered - he'd been lucky; decapitations were so much cleaner than head wounds.
The Grey Lady of Ravenclaw, however, was the most puzzling.
"And what do you want for Christmas, Sir Nicholas?" she asked him.
"…oh, you know. The usual." He tried to look cheerful. It was hard when you were mildly transparent.
"The Baron says he'd like to leave," she said.
"Leave what? The castle?" He frowned. "But the Ministry's decreed-"
"You know what I mean. There are some of us who can't bear to leave this earthly plane," she said. "I'll admit I'm one of them. …some of us, well. Had better before they go mad." She gave him a pointed look.
"I'm not mad," said Nick.
"You haven't lost your head yet." And with that, she glided off into the stacks of the library. A most puzzling statement indeed.
Come Christmas Eve, however, there was a strange presence in the air of the castle. The leftover students were too busy with their friends and their feast to notice, and the teachers were trying to preserve what was left of school rules in a half-empty school.
But Nicholas noticed it. And he thought he'd seen a sort of light in the sunken eyes of the Baron.
So when the Grey Lady summoned him at midnight, Nicholas had a sort of hunch that Something was going to happen.
She grinned, as he saw the Baron come through the other wall. "Well, what is it?" the Baron asked. Nick had never heard him speak before; he had a surprisingly aristocratic voice.
"I arranged something with some of my alumni at the Department of Mysteries," she said. "I think you'll find that you're forgiven your past fears."
A white glow began to come over the room - less transparent than the ghosts.
"For now, I'm staying here, and now," she said. "But you two? You can go on. Happy Christmas."
Nick turned to the Baron and blinked. "… happy Christmas?"
He nodded formally, his terrible staring eyes not quite so terrible anymore. "And the same to you, Sir Nicholas."