Fic: Lost Boys 6/14 - Conversations with the Dead, Part 2
Prologue - Two Dads
Part 1 - Visions of the Afterlife
Part 2 - Little Boy Lost
Part 3 - Detention
Part 4 - An Intruder
Part 5 - Conversations with the Dead, Part 1
Title: Lost Boys, 6/14 - Conversations with the Dead, Part 2
Rating: FRT (PG)
Distribution: Sure. Let me know where it’s going. Written for the snape_after_dh ficathon.
Feedback: Makes me write more. Or feel guilty for not writing more. Flames make me toasty.
Thanks to lady_clover, rainkatt and emmessann for fantastic beta work. Remaining mistakes are, of course, my own. Also, I have to admit the use of the word “filthy” for “dirty” look below is a usage I had never seen before reading some of mistful’s work. I’ll owe her a little more later, but for now, thanks to her for that.
DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I own nothing in the Potterverse, or anywhere else, for that matter. Strictly for entertainment, and no profit is being made. Please sue somebody else. David Dursley, however, is mine. Please ask before you borrow him.
Summary: Past and present meet in the dungeons of Hogwarts. This part set 4-5 years after the epilogue to Deathly Hallows.
One night, the ghost heard voices echoing down the corridor.
“Just a little further, Rosie. I promise, I’m not crazy.”
“Your whole family are raving lunatics,” came the girl’s tart reply. “I swear, David Dursley, if you’re just trying to get me alone somewhere so you can try to snog me, you are going to be in a world of pain.”
There was a short pause, then, “No. Of course not. Um, besides, the rose gardens are a much more romantic spot. Or the top of the Astronomy Tower. For that. If I was ever thinking of.... Which, I’m, er, not. Unless you’d like to....?”
“David,” the girl replied, halfway between warningly and amused.
“C’mon, it’s just through here. He won’t hurt you.” He pulled her into the room just as the ghost drew himself up to his full, very imposing height. “He’s my friend.” The boy faltered a bit as he said it, catching sight of the ghost. But then he glanced back at the girl, and a dreamy smile washed over his features.
“This is my girlfriend, Rosie,” David said, in the annoyingly blissful voice of the young, in love, and clueless.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” the ghost said in a frosty tone that indicated he was neither.
The girl was looking oddly at David. “Er, David. There’s nobody here.”
“Sure there is. He’s right there, by the cauldron.”
The ghost folded his semi-translucent arms across his breast and began to smile at the boy’s obvious discomfort. “What have your teachers told you about imaginary friends, Mr. Dursley?” he taunted.
David shot the ghost a quick, filthy glare. “This isn’t funny,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Davey? You’ve been studying too hard again, haven’t you? I warned you about that, you know. You really should come back up to the library with me. It’s ever so much nicer. How do you stand the chill and damp down here?”
The ghost spread his hands innocently, and his grin grew wider. “If I could affect who sees me and who does not, Mr. Dursley, I can assure you that you would never have seen me, either. You can’t lay this little difficulty of yours at my door. Besides,” and here the ghost’s voice went a little hard, “... you once promised to keep me, and my lab, a secret.”
David blinked a little at that. “So I did,” he said, so chastened that the ghost felt almost sorry for him. “Serves me right, I guess, then, that she can’t see you. But I just-- wanted you to meet her.”
He turned earnestly to the girl and said, “Rosie, look. Promise me you won’t tell anyone else about this-- whether you think I’m hallucinating or really have a friend you can’t see. Please? Promise?”
The girl was walking around the room, looking carefully at everything. The she nodded slowly. “I think there must be someone here-- you could never lay out supplies and ingredients so neatly as this. Ask your friend what he’s preparing to brew here, would you?”
“Pepper-up,” the ghost replied, a little surprised by how quick she had been with her observation and acceptance.
She nodded again as David relayed the reply to her. “Yes, I believe your friend must really exist-- you wouldn’t have known that, either, from what’s laid out here. You know, this would really be a good review for your final exam-- ask him if you could brew it under our supervision. Between the two of us, you might scrape an Owl in potions. And, Professor Ghost,” she said, addressing the room at large, “if you agree, I can lay my hands on some fresher boomslang skin than this, and maybe some other items as well.”
David looked hopefully at the ghost, who slowly nodded. David’s face broke into a wide smile and the ghost could not help grinning crookedly back. The boy relayed the ghost’s acceptance to Rosie, who nodded as if she’d expected nothing less.
As the girl began to lecture David on the theory and practice of brewing pepper-up potion, the ghost murmured in his ear, “Mr. Dursley? I must say, I do like this girlfriend of yours.”
***
“Do you think you liked Quidditch, when you were alive?”
The ghost thought for a moment. “I seem to have a rather terrifying memory of officiating a game. So I must have had at least a passing competence at the sport at some point.”
“You can’t remember anything else about it?”
“I believe I used to have a friendly rivalry with someone over it. A colleague, perhaps. Why do you ask?”
“I made my House Quidditch team yesterday. Keeper.”
“Congratulations,” the ghost said, a trifle stiffly. Something about Quidditch was tugging at him uncomfortably now. To cover it, he added, “Perhaps a few bludgers to the head will improve your Potions marks.”
“Couldn’t hurt them,” David grinned, glancing up from recopying an essay for the class in question. Then his eyes narrowed. He said casually, “You taught Potions, didn’t you? Back when you were alive?”
“I really don’t remember,” the ghost replied, but he got a sudden flash of steam rising from a room full of cauldrons, and the stomach-clenching anxiety, trying to see everything at once without appearing in the least concerned with any of it. Projecting calm, hiding behind it. He pushed the thought away.
“I’ve said before, I have no desire to uncover who or what I was. That life is over, and I’m sure it’s no loss.”
The boy gazed at him sadly for a moment longer, then turned back to his work. “If you say so, Sir.”
Part 7 - Another Life
Part 1 - Visions of the Afterlife
Part 2 - Little Boy Lost
Part 3 - Detention
Part 4 - An Intruder
Part 5 - Conversations with the Dead, Part 1
Title: Lost Boys, 6/14 - Conversations with the Dead, Part 2
Rating: FRT (PG)
Distribution: Sure. Let me know where it’s going. Written for the snape_after_dh ficathon.
Feedback: Makes me write more. Or feel guilty for not writing more. Flames make me toasty.
Thanks to lady_clover, rainkatt and emmessann for fantastic beta work. Remaining mistakes are, of course, my own. Also, I have to admit the use of the word “filthy” for “dirty” look below is a usage I had never seen before reading some of mistful’s work. I’ll owe her a little more later, but for now, thanks to her for that.
DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I own nothing in the Potterverse, or anywhere else, for that matter. Strictly for entertainment, and no profit is being made. Please sue somebody else. David Dursley, however, is mine. Please ask before you borrow him.
Summary: Past and present meet in the dungeons of Hogwarts. This part set 4-5 years after the epilogue to Deathly Hallows.
One night, the ghost heard voices echoing down the corridor.
“Just a little further, Rosie. I promise, I’m not crazy.”
“Your whole family are raving lunatics,” came the girl’s tart reply. “I swear, David Dursley, if you’re just trying to get me alone somewhere so you can try to snog me, you are going to be in a world of pain.”
There was a short pause, then, “No. Of course not. Um, besides, the rose gardens are a much more romantic spot. Or the top of the Astronomy Tower. For that. If I was ever thinking of.... Which, I’m, er, not. Unless you’d like to....?”
“David,” the girl replied, halfway between warningly and amused.
“C’mon, it’s just through here. He won’t hurt you.” He pulled her into the room just as the ghost drew himself up to his full, very imposing height. “He’s my friend.” The boy faltered a bit as he said it, catching sight of the ghost. But then he glanced back at the girl, and a dreamy smile washed over his features.
“This is my girlfriend, Rosie,” David said, in the annoyingly blissful voice of the young, in love, and clueless.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” the ghost said in a frosty tone that indicated he was neither.
The girl was looking oddly at David. “Er, David. There’s nobody here.”
“Sure there is. He’s right there, by the cauldron.”
The ghost folded his semi-translucent arms across his breast and began to smile at the boy’s obvious discomfort. “What have your teachers told you about imaginary friends, Mr. Dursley?” he taunted.
David shot the ghost a quick, filthy glare. “This isn’t funny,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Davey? You’ve been studying too hard again, haven’t you? I warned you about that, you know. You really should come back up to the library with me. It’s ever so much nicer. How do you stand the chill and damp down here?”
The ghost spread his hands innocently, and his grin grew wider. “If I could affect who sees me and who does not, Mr. Dursley, I can assure you that you would never have seen me, either. You can’t lay this little difficulty of yours at my door. Besides,” and here the ghost’s voice went a little hard, “... you once promised to keep me, and my lab, a secret.”
David blinked a little at that. “So I did,” he said, so chastened that the ghost felt almost sorry for him. “Serves me right, I guess, then, that she can’t see you. But I just-- wanted you to meet her.”
He turned earnestly to the girl and said, “Rosie, look. Promise me you won’t tell anyone else about this-- whether you think I’m hallucinating or really have a friend you can’t see. Please? Promise?”
The girl was walking around the room, looking carefully at everything. The she nodded slowly. “I think there must be someone here-- you could never lay out supplies and ingredients so neatly as this. Ask your friend what he’s preparing to brew here, would you?”
“Pepper-up,” the ghost replied, a little surprised by how quick she had been with her observation and acceptance.
She nodded again as David relayed the reply to her. “Yes, I believe your friend must really exist-- you wouldn’t have known that, either, from what’s laid out here. You know, this would really be a good review for your final exam-- ask him if you could brew it under our supervision. Between the two of us, you might scrape an Owl in potions. And, Professor Ghost,” she said, addressing the room at large, “if you agree, I can lay my hands on some fresher boomslang skin than this, and maybe some other items as well.”
David looked hopefully at the ghost, who slowly nodded. David’s face broke into a wide smile and the ghost could not help grinning crookedly back. The boy relayed the ghost’s acceptance to Rosie, who nodded as if she’d expected nothing less.
As the girl began to lecture David on the theory and practice of brewing pepper-up potion, the ghost murmured in his ear, “Mr. Dursley? I must say, I do like this girlfriend of yours.”
***
“Do you think you liked Quidditch, when you were alive?”
The ghost thought for a moment. “I seem to have a rather terrifying memory of officiating a game. So I must have had at least a passing competence at the sport at some point.”
“You can’t remember anything else about it?”
“I believe I used to have a friendly rivalry with someone over it. A colleague, perhaps. Why do you ask?”
“I made my House Quidditch team yesterday. Keeper.”
“Congratulations,” the ghost said, a trifle stiffly. Something about Quidditch was tugging at him uncomfortably now. To cover it, he added, “Perhaps a few bludgers to the head will improve your Potions marks.”
“Couldn’t hurt them,” David grinned, glancing up from recopying an essay for the class in question. Then his eyes narrowed. He said casually, “You taught Potions, didn’t you? Back when you were alive?”
“I really don’t remember,” the ghost replied, but he got a sudden flash of steam rising from a room full of cauldrons, and the stomach-clenching anxiety, trying to see everything at once without appearing in the least concerned with any of it. Projecting calm, hiding behind it. He pushed the thought away.
“I’ve said before, I have no desire to uncover who or what I was. That life is over, and I’m sure it’s no loss.”
The boy gazed at him sadly for a moment longer, then turned back to his work. “If you say so, Sir.”
Part 7 - Another Life