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Haunting: A How-To Guide [Harry Potter]
Title: Haunting: A How-To Guide
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG
Warnings: Major character death and ghostliness, whingey Harry
Word Count: 5282
Summary: After Sirius has fallen through the Veil, all hope at fixing their imperfect relationship is lost to Remus. Or is it? A strange bundle of hair and a how-to book have lead Sirius back to Remus-- this time for good.
Author's notes: For lady_luthienne at rs_small_gifts. Beta'd by donotcaffeinate
Haunting: A How-To Guide
Haunting: A How-To Guide by Fiona Broom
The old book did not stand out amidst its cousins in the Black library, and Remus would never have noticed it if it hadn't been on the desk. Even so, it was one of about twenty volumes piled atop the old dark wooden surface. The volume was thick, but the words large. The cover was somewhere between a deep maroon it must have began its life as and a musty brown that all old books become sooner or later. A golden filigree along the edges announced its standing as an expense, but that was likewise not uncommon in this library. The letters on the cover were similarly gold, though worn. Considering how many ghosts roamed the halls of Grimmauld Place, the total count coming to zero, Remus was inclined to believe that the text was a load of tosh. He hefted it and intended to toss it aside, to continue his search for any texts that may help them in the ongoing fight against Voldemort now that they would have to leave this place for good. Now that Sirius--
What stopped Remus from disregarding the book entirely was a marker that fell to the floor. It was unmistakably Sirius's: a thin hank of black hair, about four inches long, was tied with a soft leather cord and bit of dried herb. Remus stood transfixed, staring at the little bundle. It throbbed with magic and with the deep essence of Sirius. Remus could not imagine what it was, but Sirius must have been attempting some obscure form of magic. Hair magic was said to be death magic, because it dealt with a part of one's body that was already dead. There was much debate about the relationship between blood magic and hair magic. Both were allowed for animals. Blood magic for wizards was illegal, but hair magic, while not illegal, was generally considered a bad sort of magic to get into, bordering too close on blood magic and perhaps being a branch of functional necromancy. The left side of Remus's brain ran through this information, along with the implications of having found whatever instructions Sirius had used on hair magic in the indubitably dark Black library, while Remus's right-brain was engaged in one simple, futile, and sentimental gesture:
He brought the bouquet to his nose and inhaled.
The next thing he knew, the ground was rushing up to meet him. He did not know how long he lay unconscious on the floor of the Black library, but he was quite sure he had hit his head rather hard. That was the only explanation he had for the events that ensued upon opening his eyes.
~*~*~
So You Want to Be a Ghost?
Not only a ghost, you want to haunt someplace or something, or perhaps someone? There are a thousand reasons that a person may want to haunt, and just as many types of hauntings. First, though, I want to congratulate you on considering the fate of your consciousness after you die. Very few people properly consider their options, let alone take the necessary steps to put their plans into action. I hope that your death may still be a distant event, as there is always much to live for, but the methods for accomplishing the most common varieties of planned hauntings can be found in this book. I have interviewed thousands upon thousands of ghosts in my research, and am a specialist in blood magic and necromancy, so rest assured you are in knowledgeable hands!
As an overview, perhaps you are familiar with the process of haunting. Over ninety-nine percent of ghosts you will meet daily have what we call "accidental hauntings". They may be considered "accidental ghosts". The analogy I often make goes as follows: death is a great river. We all dive in when our time comes, and float inevitably downstream towards its outlet, which none of us, not even ghosts, may guess the nature of. Most ghosts are people who, when they died, became afraid of the river and inadvertently tethered themselves to life, to the familiar, to this entire world of the living. They haunt a place or a person that they thought of at the moment of their death, but they are tied, as it were, to the entire world and they can never move on.
It is possible, though, for those who have no fear of the river and who are not tethered to the world, to tie themselves to a specific place, person, or artifact. They have the ability to terminate this link to the world and float downstream at will, if this is their plan, or they can set the conditions of this termination. Unlucky is the person who binds themselves to a place and sets no conditions for termination of that bind.
The catch is that this tethering must be enacted prior to the subject's death, and most people don't like to consider their death or their haunting until afterward. I imagine there are many regretful souls among the dead. You shall not be one of them. By reading this book, you are taking the first steps in preparing for your afterlife and any haunting you may choose. Follow all recipes carefully, and may you be as happy in death as you have been in life.
~*~*~
Remus opened his eyes to find that, as he expected, nothing had changed in the dead man's musty library, except perhaps for Remus's own mood. He sat up and felt the hairs upon his neck and arms pricked, standing on end. He felt tense. "Hello," Remus called softly, but when only silence greeted him, he felt himself more foolish than ever. There was no one in the house. He had come to clean out whatever of Sirius' things he thought worth keeping. Dumbledore would have abandoned all of it to Dung Fletcher or worse, but something must be worth saving. Remus had fought with Dumbledore, in the quiet and subdued sense that Remus and Albus ever fought, over Remus's coming here. In the end, Remus had won simply because he would not take 'no' as an answer. He felt compelled by something beyond his understanding back to this place. Dumbledore had relented knowingly, and not without a little pity.
Admittedly, Remus had found precious little in the way of truly personal affects. Sirius had carried nothing into Azkaban, and nothing out. He had brought only himself into this house, and that he had taken to the grave - literally. There was no body to bury. There was no proof there had ever been a Sirius Black, in a sense. Remus felt another wave of morbidity washing over him.
Then, his eyes focused once again on the small bundle still clutched in his hand. It was an odd thing, clearly carrying a dense magic of unknown purpose, but not Dark, thankfully. Not that Remus would have expected Dark Magic of Sirius anyway. Most of all, it was proof positive that Sirius Black had lived. Remus secured the bouquet of hair into the interior breast pocket of his worn sport coat, tucking it down safely and gingerly. He thought himself sentimental and foolish, but no one was here to see it.
Even though he certainly felt as though someone were watching him. Watching and teasing, perhaps. Remus blushed a bit and went back to work sorting books. He would be happy to be out of the mausoleum, and he felt he had what he'd come for, though what precisely that was he couldn't be sure.
~*~*~
Love Haunting
As with each of these pages, you would do well to memorize these directions, as you will not at first have the ability to manipulate corporeal objects such as books. Accidental ghosts have, at least, each other to learn from, but you will only be able to be seen by your beloved, and even then you will have to wait for the spell to take full effect. Here are the directions:
Sirius had read them until he felt his eyes might bleed. He'd known that he would not outlive Remus, known that he and Remus were not finding their way back to each other in the way he had, one naive night in the Shrieking Shack, expected. Sirius also knew himself, knew his restlessness, knew that he was waiting for his moment to make a difference. All his months of studying and he only could hope that the apex moment wouldn't come before he was finished this important spellwork.
In fact, his death occurred a full two months after the spells were finished and memorized. Two months, Sirius had wished to die, not with the gloomy wishes of Azkaban or the pitiful hopes of his childhood, but with the grown knowledge of a man who knew, at least for himself, what death might hold: Remus Lupin.
~*~*~
Remus had never been a sound sleeper, but these past two days his dreams were particularly less restful than usual. They weren't disturbing at all, not nightmares, but Remus had a sense of Sirius in them, as though he was there. He also dreamed of words: nonsense words, a chant or incantation that he did not know. The incantation spilled into his waking hours the way any repetitive mantra can work its way into your skull. He'd read a novel with such a thing in it: a man had killed his mistress and she had come back to haunt him in just this way. The incantations in the novel had been different and also entirely fake, though. He began to wonder just how hard he had hit his head at Grimmauld Place.
And then there was the itchy sense of being followed. Even walking to the market, Remus found himself trying to glance sideways quickly enough to catch the culprit, always failing. Once, he thought he heard footsteps.
In a way though, this was all a pleasant distraction. Prior to going mad, Remus had been wallowing, and, though he supposed going mad didn't do the Order any more good than did wallowing, he felt much better than he had mere days ago. It was a queer thing that the deeper into his psychosis Remus sank, the less he seemed to ache over the loss of Sirius. Just days ago, he remembered lying in bed, feeling out the size of the hole in his chest and thinking it must be impossible to go on living without so much of himself. But he had lived without Sirius for so long that he got up the next morning as if he were a broom on automatic pilot. Now, though, the pain seemed smaller, even bearable. His hand flew unconsciously to his breast. He still carried it with him: the tuft of herb-scented and leather-bound hair. Maybe that was to blame for the lessening pain. Since he was, at this moment of reflection, sitting in his own living room before the fire with no one to watch him, Remus pulled out the small tuft and gave a great inhalation, seeking through the clove-scent for something more - Sirius.
~*~*~
The key is to let the other party come to a slow awareness of your presence. This herbal sachet is a highly recommended method: it is unusual for anyone but your beloved to smell items belonging to you. I do suggest you hide the item somewhere where only your beloved is likely to look, though, or else you do risk binding your soul's haunting to another person.
A further recommended strategy is that of repetitive legilimency. Even though you likely had no such talents as a mortal, you will find that you do have them as a spook. You can use these talents to fall into a corporeal form much faster. Your beloved will be able to see you much more easily if they come to know that you are there by other means, such as seeing you in their sleep. Most ghosts, however, are poor legilimens, and it's likely that the very best you can hope to accomplish is some repetitive mantra. Try this while your beloved is sleeping, when their mind is most open and susceptible to suggestion.
Lastly, do be patient. Your lover will come around eventually. This is easier than many hauntings, aided as it is by the fact that your beloved will want to see you as dearly as you want to be seen by them. Once they can lend you their psychic powers in that manner, the rest takes time.
~*~*~
Quite suddenly, as though he had been there all along, Remus became aware that the low cushion by the fireplace was occupied by Sirius Black. In fact, he could see Sirius. Never mind that he could also see through Sirius. Remus might have thought his breakdown was truly complete at this point, except he was fairly certain what he was seeing was actually Sirius Black and not some projection of his own imagination onto the cushion. After all, if Remus were to imagine anyone sitting on a cushion, he probably would have imagined them doing so with their bum.
But no, Sirius was sprawled on the floor with both legs hooked over the cushion as though he merely wanted to occupy it without a desire to enjoy its best amenity: a softness the floor could not provide. Sirius had always been this way. He sprawled. He had sprawled in the Gryffindor Common Room when they were barely more than kids, and he had always preferred the floor, but somehow managed to use chairs anyway. They held his bags or his books while he worked on the floor. Or now, his feet, while he gazed contemplatively at the ceiling.
Remus, far from being overjoyed, rather felt a twinge of annoyance. This was partly due to his realization that Sirius hadn't simply appeared, but rather he had been around for days, saying nothing and doing nothing to make himself known. "I'm sorry," Remus said tartly, "has my cushion done something to offend you?"
Only when Sirius' face turned towards him, mouth agape, did Remus register what was actually happening.
"Sirius, you're--"
"You can see me, then?" Sirius jumped up immediately and crossed the tiny room quickly. He threw his arms around Remus and grasped nothing. His arms went right through. "Bugger," Sirius groaned. "That'll come later," he nodded with assurance to himself.
"You're really a ghost." Remus was aware that he was staring.
Sirius opened his arms, looking awkward and nervous. "Not what you were hoping for, eh? Sorry I'm no Brazilian beauty, but I'm the ghost you're stuck with." Sirius actually sounded apologetic.
Remus thought back to his welcome of a moment before, his sharp words about the cushion, and felt a touch of shame. "No, Sirius -" Remus instinctively reached out to grasp Sirius' hand, but came away with nothing. "Did you say that would come later?"
Sirius nodded sternly. "It had better."
"Alright, well, words then," Remus smiled. "Where? How?"
"The, uh, well, never mind. It's in a book. I just followed the instructions."
"It's that easy?"
"No, not easy, but easier than becoming an animagus, and actually it is a kind of transfiguration, becoming energy and astral projection. Something the Muggles have -- mass-energy and how you can change between them."
Remus was still staring.
"I hope you don't really mind I'm haunting you?" Sirius asked
Remus didn't know what to say. He'd declared they use words, but what words were there for this? If there was a greeting card, what would it have said? So glad you thwarted the finality of death for me? How many ways can you change your very essence for me? What wouldn't you do for me? How do I deserve you? What he said was simply, "You - Sirius."
"Yeah, it's still my name," Sirius grinned now, playfully throwing himself on the couch, though the bits of him that touched Remus went through to rest on the couch as well.
"How does that work?" Remus points to where Sirius' ankle crossed his own knee, seeming to have slipped inside Remus.
Sirius shrugged and answered, "Something about passive energy and active energy. I fell asleep for that part of the book."
Remus laughed. "You really did this for me?" He turned to Sirius then, and saw the bare frankness in Sirius' eyes. Sirius and he were exchanging words without artifice, for what proprieties were left? In the shared moments those past few months of Sirius's life, both of them had been reticent to speak about feelings, to imply that either of them meant something different or unique to the other. It seemed they had come too far to take that final step. But what about this? Surely this was farther still.
"No," Sirius shook his head, and Remus felt his heart fall. Sirius had another motive.
"I did it for me, you berk," Sirius continued. "I'm not afraid of going on to whatever's next alone, you know. I just didn't want to."
Remus smiled gently. "You don't do much that you don't want to do, do you Sirius?"
Sirius stretched out and puckered up theatrically, but Remus made no move towards kissing the man he loved, though he would certainly have wanted to. He did not think he could bear passing through Sirius a second time. Sirius, though, seemed to understand. He stood, unfazed, and his shadowy-transparent body seemed to float as he made a concerted effort to 'walk' across the room to the fireplace.
"We'll get there," Remus said quietly, recognizing disappointment in Sirius' hunched shoulders.
Sirius nodded. Remus rose to make himself a sandwich.
~*~*~
Six Months Later
There were many things they had gotten used to, but the one that had taken most time was the fact that no one else could see Sirius. Remus had grown up with ghosts. They were a part of his life. He'd had conversations with Sir Nicholas and had thought of Nick as a sort of uncle, someone he could talk to that was not a friend, professor, or parent. But he had never before heard of a real ghost that no one else could see. Oh, of course Muggles had them, but that was natural, since Muggles couldn't see ghosts at all. They were always relying on the second-hand knowledge of wizards, where ghosts came into question. Many Muggle reports of ghosts came from small children who later grew up to manifest magical ability of a more active sort. Lily Evans had been one such child. She remembered seeing a ghost as a very young child, but she had turned up at Hogwarts like so many other girl-children ghost-seers.
In fact, if it weren't for the pages of Sirius' book - and many other books like it that Remus was sure to look up and flip through - Remus would have assumed he was going insane. But all authorities on necromancy and ghosts agreed: if a ghost was bound to a person rather than to the world, only that person would be able to observe or interact with them. Remus spent the better part of a half a year debating with Sirius on whether or not he should reveal Sirius' presence to anyone else.
At first, he and Sirius had agreed that they shouldn't. Sirius had never been keen on the idea of revealing the exact nature of the relationship the two of them had shared, and this would just cause others to ask more questions that Sirius did not want to have to answer. Not that, of course, he would have to answer any questions, as no one could hear him anyway. Remus agreed only because, while there was no way to prove Sirius's existence as a spirit, Remus might as well be crazy, even if he did not believe this about himself any longer. Still, would it not introduce some questions about his sanity? There were members of the Order even now who were not overly keen about having a werewolf among their ranks. A crazed werewolf would, as Muggles put it, go over like a leaded balloon.
Now, though, things had changed. Sirius was no longer a specter in Remus's mind; Sirius had by now developed the ability to move objects, objects visible to everyone. That was the only proof Remus could offer, and for some it would not be enough, but Remus could easily think of one person for whom it would be more than adequate.
And thus it was that he came to be standing in Hogsmeade with Harry on a Sunday morning. Remus had waited for a Hogsmeade weekend, bought Harry a mug of butterbeer, strolled with him through the little town, but now he could delay no longer.
"Harry," Remus began, "There's something very important that I need to tell you." Harry looked concerned and Remus regretted his words belatedly, realizing that Harry was used to bad news.
"Just tell him already," Sirius groaned impatiently from beside Remus. Remus had gotten used, in the past six months, to not showing any outward symptom of response to the affectionate nagging of his erstwhile partner in life and in death.
"Harry, I'm being haunted by a ghost," Remus said bluntly.
Harry frowned. "Do you mean that literally or figuratively?"
"Would you take both as an answer?"
"Huh?"
Remus sighed. Harry could be bright in some ways, but he certainly was not Hermione.
"Get on with it," Sirius insisted.
"Literally," Remus nodded.
"At your flat?" Harry asked. "Is it making some trouble for you or something? Why is this important?"
"Harry." Remus pointed to a convenient bench. It was cold out, but the cold allowed Remus to pull his scarf up a bit more, to hide behind its protective layers. Harry obediently took a seat.
Remus began again. "I am being haunted by Sirius."
Harry gasped and drew back a bit. Sirius seemed grave - all puns aside.
"Why haven't you said something before?" Harry sounded angry, and Remus was not the least bit surprised by that. "Why hasn't he been to see me? I thought you said no more secrets. I thought he said -"
"Harry, let me explain," Remus interrupted, even as Sirius started blurting out his own defense, unheard by anyone but Remus. Remus knew without asking just how much that must frustrate Sirius, to not be heard by the people he was addressing.
"I don't want to hear it," Harry snapped, standing. Remus reached out and grabbed Harry's jacket swiftly.
"Too bad. Sit." There was urgency and force behind his voice and Harry, probably unaccustomed to hearing it, did exactly as he was told.
"Sirius is not your usual kind of ghost, Harry. I'm the only one who can see him - "
"That's a convenient excuse."
"It's the truth. He's been haunting me for nearly six months now, but I haven't told anyone because I had no way to prove it and I didn't want people think I was mad."
"Maybe you are," Harry quipped.
Remus sat back and shrugged, turning with a frown to the thin air beside him that held Sirius. He could not reason with the boy when he was acting this way.
Sirius offered no advice, though, and Remus was spared having to decide what to do or say next when Harry stood and stormed off just a moment later.
~*~*~
Three days after this disastrous attempt to explain his haunting to Harry, Remus was only very mildly surprised to come home from the market to find Harry inside his flat.
"You are supposed to be at school," Remus said matter-of-factly by way of a greeting.
"Was what you said on Sunday true?"
"What class are you missing, anyway?"
Harry shook his head. "Divinations."
"It's all rot anyway," Sirius said from behind Remus. Remus turned a bit with a smile, but answered Harry, "Your truancy might have been foreseen in that case." Harry rolled his eyes.
"I've never seen a Divs professor foresee the need to piss," Sirius laughed.
Remus winced and then laughed in spite of himself. To Harry he said, "Did I ever tell you that I quit Divinations?"
"Uh... no?"
"Well, I did. In very much the same manner as Hermione did, actually. Professor Zodias insisted one day that the Moon held good tidings for me and that she was a gentle benefactor. He also insisted that my mum had been a teapot in a past life. I walked out."
"I remember that," Sirius said quietly.
"Uh...about what you said the other day..." Harry fidgeted awkwardly, trying to restart the stalled conversation. "Sorry I reacted - it's just...I was wondering, is it true?"
"Quite." Remus smiled tensely.
"Is he, uh, here, now?"
Remus put his bag from the market down on the coffee table and, with a rogue carrot that was trying to escape the bag, pointed deftly to where Sirius had just flopped into an armchair, legs sprawled.
"...Sirius?" Harry's voice was tight.
"Alright there Harry." Sirius's own voice was brimming with tenderness, and Remus smiled sadly at the little injustices life dealt: Harry was finally being given the filial tenderness he so deserved, but he was unable to receive it.
"It's a small consolation, I know," Remus interrupted, replacing the carrot in his bag, "but I can hear and see both of you. I can deliver messages if you like."
"No, 's okay," Harry sunk further into his chair glumly.
"Harry, Sirius... he isn't choosing to not be seen by you. You know that, right?" Harry nodded, but Remus got the distinct impression that Harry had not known that until just now.
"I've just... never heard of a ghost that other people couldn't see," Harry said.
"If it makes you feel better Harry, I am very impressed and also quite, um, inspired, by your display of faith in me. You haven't asked for any proof. I wanted to tell you before now, but I didn't want to do so until I could provide proof."
"I called you mad," Harry answered sadly.
"You were hurt. I know you didn't mean that."
Harry nodded and answered only, "I know you wouldn't joke about something like this. I don't need proof."
"I appreciate it. You must know that I'm sure Sirius would appear to you if he could."
"'Course I would," Sirius answered.
Remus smiled and said to Harry, "He says 'course he would'."
Harry smiled sadly, still looking down. "Nearly Headless Nick said that Sirius wouldn't be a ghost because he wasn't afraid of death."
Remus took a seat next to Sirius with a sigh. He smiled inwardly at the mention of his own ex-mentor Nick. Nick was generally much more wise and circumspect than he let on, but this was likely something Nick didn't know anything about or wouldn't have suspected.
To Harry, Remus said, "There are different kinds of hauntings...different kinds of ghosts, if you will. Nick is one kind, and it is that kind that he knows about. Sirius is a different, rarer kind that very few people know about. I've done some reading." Remus pointed to a book on the coffee table next to his groceries. A plain bit of paper marked the page that had originally been held by the bouquet of Sirius' hair. That talisman now went always with Remus in his inner breast pocket. Harry opened the book and skimmed. He then looked up sharply at Remus.
"You-?"
Remus nodded.
Harry lowered his head and rubbed his face. When his hand came away, it was smeared with tears.
"Shite," Sirius hissed.
"What's wrong?" Remus asked.
"Nothing," Harry answered.
"I'm sorry if this news is disappointing to you-"
Harry laughed. "I'm not disappointed. I'm happy for you. For him. I just feel like I've been such a selfish idiot, sitting here thinking about how I wish Sirius would appear to me instead of you, but he's happier with you than he would be with me."
"That's not true--" Sirius started, but the was stopped when Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "What I meant was that I love him, just in a different--"
"I know what you meant," Remus interrupted with a chuckle.
"This is weird," Harry muttered.
Remus smiled tensely, but it collapsed into a more genuine smile as he turned to Harry and said, "It's nice to be able to talk to Sirius in company, Harry."
Harry looked, misty-eyed, to the 'empty' place Remus had addressed his remark to Sirius and said quietly, "It's nice to have you back, Sirius."
"Right," Remus stood. "You two talk, I'll put on tea."
"But how can I--" Harry gestured helplessly.
"Harry," Remus sighed in exasperation and put on what he hoped was a somewhat professorial voice, "Sirius cares about you very much and I'm sure he would appreciate hearing about what's been going on in your life. His ears work just fine. If he has any important responses, he can dictate them to me later, but he always was most fond of hearing from you."
Harry smiled just a bit and Remus made his exit. If it took him a bit longer to get the tea than usual, well, propriety makes demands to which boiling water doesn't always acquiesce.
~*~*~
"And then the bitch was attacked by centaurs," Sirius laughed.
"That's not really funny..."
"Did you know Slughorn's back at Hogwarts?"
"Yes, actually."
"And Dumbledore is letting Snape teach the Dark Arts."
"Defence, Sirius."
"Yeah, right, I'll believe that when I see it with my own eyes. Wouldn't want them able to defend themselves!"
"He's on our side-"
"Says you."
"Says Dumbledore."
"Harry's heard him plotting with Draco Malfoy."
"Harry can be overly emotional where Draco is concerned."
Sirius snorted. "Mark my words..."
"I'd really rather not. Now will you please let me sleep," Remus groaned into his pillow.
"Right, sorry."
Remus rolled over. He could still hear Sirius muttering about the stupidity of letting Severus teach Defence. Sirius was six months dead, but still staying up all night mumbling about how much he hated Severus and keeping Remus awake for the tirades.
Remus smiled despite himself. "I love you, Sirius, never forget that."
He felt Sirius's arms encircle him - what a joy to feel him again now that Sirius knew how to do this! "'Course I won't," Sirius laughed in his ear. And, if there was no puff of warm air accompanying it, Remus wasn't bothered. He had never really possessed Sirius as completely as he did now, though the man had in fact haunted him for his entire adult life. It worked for them somehow, for Remus to convey Sirius's feeling and emotions to the outside world, even when he didn't make them known as Sirius's. It was, after all, maybe not a good idea to tell anyone but Harry about Sirius. But Sirius trusted Remus, he was sure, to convey his concerns. Remus was relieved in a sense to have this new measure of control over Sirius. Sirius had always desired a firm and gentle hand in any lover or friend, and now Remus felt fully able to be what Sirius most needed.
"Thank you," Sirius whispered.
"Sleep," groaned Remus.
"I don't need to, I'm a ghost. BOO."
"I meant, please let me."
"Right, sorry."
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG
Warnings: Major character death and ghostliness, whingey Harry
Word Count: 5282
Summary: After Sirius has fallen through the Veil, all hope at fixing their imperfect relationship is lost to Remus. Or is it? A strange bundle of hair and a how-to book have lead Sirius back to Remus-- this time for good.
Author's notes: For lady_luthienne at rs_small_gifts. Beta'd by donotcaffeinate
Haunting: A How-To Guide
Haunting: A How-To Guide by Fiona Broom
The old book did not stand out amidst its cousins in the Black library, and Remus would never have noticed it if it hadn't been on the desk. Even so, it was one of about twenty volumes piled atop the old dark wooden surface. The volume was thick, but the words large. The cover was somewhere between a deep maroon it must have began its life as and a musty brown that all old books become sooner or later. A golden filigree along the edges announced its standing as an expense, but that was likewise not uncommon in this library. The letters on the cover were similarly gold, though worn. Considering how many ghosts roamed the halls of Grimmauld Place, the total count coming to zero, Remus was inclined to believe that the text was a load of tosh. He hefted it and intended to toss it aside, to continue his search for any texts that may help them in the ongoing fight against Voldemort now that they would have to leave this place for good. Now that Sirius--
What stopped Remus from disregarding the book entirely was a marker that fell to the floor. It was unmistakably Sirius's: a thin hank of black hair, about four inches long, was tied with a soft leather cord and bit of dried herb. Remus stood transfixed, staring at the little bundle. It throbbed with magic and with the deep essence of Sirius. Remus could not imagine what it was, but Sirius must have been attempting some obscure form of magic. Hair magic was said to be death magic, because it dealt with a part of one's body that was already dead. There was much debate about the relationship between blood magic and hair magic. Both were allowed for animals. Blood magic for wizards was illegal, but hair magic, while not illegal, was generally considered a bad sort of magic to get into, bordering too close on blood magic and perhaps being a branch of functional necromancy. The left side of Remus's brain ran through this information, along with the implications of having found whatever instructions Sirius had used on hair magic in the indubitably dark Black library, while Remus's right-brain was engaged in one simple, futile, and sentimental gesture:
He brought the bouquet to his nose and inhaled.
The next thing he knew, the ground was rushing up to meet him. He did not know how long he lay unconscious on the floor of the Black library, but he was quite sure he had hit his head rather hard. That was the only explanation he had for the events that ensued upon opening his eyes.
~*~*~
So You Want to Be a Ghost?
Not only a ghost, you want to haunt someplace or something, or perhaps someone? There are a thousand reasons that a person may want to haunt, and just as many types of hauntings. First, though, I want to congratulate you on considering the fate of your consciousness after you die. Very few people properly consider their options, let alone take the necessary steps to put their plans into action. I hope that your death may still be a distant event, as there is always much to live for, but the methods for accomplishing the most common varieties of planned hauntings can be found in this book. I have interviewed thousands upon thousands of ghosts in my research, and am a specialist in blood magic and necromancy, so rest assured you are in knowledgeable hands!
As an overview, perhaps you are familiar with the process of haunting. Over ninety-nine percent of ghosts you will meet daily have what we call "accidental hauntings". They may be considered "accidental ghosts". The analogy I often make goes as follows: death is a great river. We all dive in when our time comes, and float inevitably downstream towards its outlet, which none of us, not even ghosts, may guess the nature of. Most ghosts are people who, when they died, became afraid of the river and inadvertently tethered themselves to life, to the familiar, to this entire world of the living. They haunt a place or a person that they thought of at the moment of their death, but they are tied, as it were, to the entire world and they can never move on.
It is possible, though, for those who have no fear of the river and who are not tethered to the world, to tie themselves to a specific place, person, or artifact. They have the ability to terminate this link to the world and float downstream at will, if this is their plan, or they can set the conditions of this termination. Unlucky is the person who binds themselves to a place and sets no conditions for termination of that bind.
The catch is that this tethering must be enacted prior to the subject's death, and most people don't like to consider their death or their haunting until afterward. I imagine there are many regretful souls among the dead. You shall not be one of them. By reading this book, you are taking the first steps in preparing for your afterlife and any haunting you may choose. Follow all recipes carefully, and may you be as happy in death as you have been in life.
~*~*~
Remus opened his eyes to find that, as he expected, nothing had changed in the dead man's musty library, except perhaps for Remus's own mood. He sat up and felt the hairs upon his neck and arms pricked, standing on end. He felt tense. "Hello," Remus called softly, but when only silence greeted him, he felt himself more foolish than ever. There was no one in the house. He had come to clean out whatever of Sirius' things he thought worth keeping. Dumbledore would have abandoned all of it to Dung Fletcher or worse, but something must be worth saving. Remus had fought with Dumbledore, in the quiet and subdued sense that Remus and Albus ever fought, over Remus's coming here. In the end, Remus had won simply because he would not take 'no' as an answer. He felt compelled by something beyond his understanding back to this place. Dumbledore had relented knowingly, and not without a little pity.
Admittedly, Remus had found precious little in the way of truly personal affects. Sirius had carried nothing into Azkaban, and nothing out. He had brought only himself into this house, and that he had taken to the grave - literally. There was no body to bury. There was no proof there had ever been a Sirius Black, in a sense. Remus felt another wave of morbidity washing over him.
Then, his eyes focused once again on the small bundle still clutched in his hand. It was an odd thing, clearly carrying a dense magic of unknown purpose, but not Dark, thankfully. Not that Remus would have expected Dark Magic of Sirius anyway. Most of all, it was proof positive that Sirius Black had lived. Remus secured the bouquet of hair into the interior breast pocket of his worn sport coat, tucking it down safely and gingerly. He thought himself sentimental and foolish, but no one was here to see it.
Even though he certainly felt as though someone were watching him. Watching and teasing, perhaps. Remus blushed a bit and went back to work sorting books. He would be happy to be out of the mausoleum, and he felt he had what he'd come for, though what precisely that was he couldn't be sure.
~*~*~
Love Haunting
As with each of these pages, you would do well to memorize these directions, as you will not at first have the ability to manipulate corporeal objects such as books. Accidental ghosts have, at least, each other to learn from, but you will only be able to be seen by your beloved, and even then you will have to wait for the spell to take full effect. Here are the directions:
Sirius had read them until he felt his eyes might bleed. He'd known that he would not outlive Remus, known that he and Remus were not finding their way back to each other in the way he had, one naive night in the Shrieking Shack, expected. Sirius also knew himself, knew his restlessness, knew that he was waiting for his moment to make a difference. All his months of studying and he only could hope that the apex moment wouldn't come before he was finished this important spellwork.
In fact, his death occurred a full two months after the spells were finished and memorized. Two months, Sirius had wished to die, not with the gloomy wishes of Azkaban or the pitiful hopes of his childhood, but with the grown knowledge of a man who knew, at least for himself, what death might hold: Remus Lupin.
~*~*~
Remus had never been a sound sleeper, but these past two days his dreams were particularly less restful than usual. They weren't disturbing at all, not nightmares, but Remus had a sense of Sirius in them, as though he was there. He also dreamed of words: nonsense words, a chant or incantation that he did not know. The incantation spilled into his waking hours the way any repetitive mantra can work its way into your skull. He'd read a novel with such a thing in it: a man had killed his mistress and she had come back to haunt him in just this way. The incantations in the novel had been different and also entirely fake, though. He began to wonder just how hard he had hit his head at Grimmauld Place.
And then there was the itchy sense of being followed. Even walking to the market, Remus found himself trying to glance sideways quickly enough to catch the culprit, always failing. Once, he thought he heard footsteps.
In a way though, this was all a pleasant distraction. Prior to going mad, Remus had been wallowing, and, though he supposed going mad didn't do the Order any more good than did wallowing, he felt much better than he had mere days ago. It was a queer thing that the deeper into his psychosis Remus sank, the less he seemed to ache over the loss of Sirius. Just days ago, he remembered lying in bed, feeling out the size of the hole in his chest and thinking it must be impossible to go on living without so much of himself. But he had lived without Sirius for so long that he got up the next morning as if he were a broom on automatic pilot. Now, though, the pain seemed smaller, even bearable. His hand flew unconsciously to his breast. He still carried it with him: the tuft of herb-scented and leather-bound hair. Maybe that was to blame for the lessening pain. Since he was, at this moment of reflection, sitting in his own living room before the fire with no one to watch him, Remus pulled out the small tuft and gave a great inhalation, seeking through the clove-scent for something more - Sirius.
~*~*~
The key is to let the other party come to a slow awareness of your presence. This herbal sachet is a highly recommended method: it is unusual for anyone but your beloved to smell items belonging to you. I do suggest you hide the item somewhere where only your beloved is likely to look, though, or else you do risk binding your soul's haunting to another person.
A further recommended strategy is that of repetitive legilimency. Even though you likely had no such talents as a mortal, you will find that you do have them as a spook. You can use these talents to fall into a corporeal form much faster. Your beloved will be able to see you much more easily if they come to know that you are there by other means, such as seeing you in their sleep. Most ghosts, however, are poor legilimens, and it's likely that the very best you can hope to accomplish is some repetitive mantra. Try this while your beloved is sleeping, when their mind is most open and susceptible to suggestion.
Lastly, do be patient. Your lover will come around eventually. This is easier than many hauntings, aided as it is by the fact that your beloved will want to see you as dearly as you want to be seen by them. Once they can lend you their psychic powers in that manner, the rest takes time.
~*~*~
Quite suddenly, as though he had been there all along, Remus became aware that the low cushion by the fireplace was occupied by Sirius Black. In fact, he could see Sirius. Never mind that he could also see through Sirius. Remus might have thought his breakdown was truly complete at this point, except he was fairly certain what he was seeing was actually Sirius Black and not some projection of his own imagination onto the cushion. After all, if Remus were to imagine anyone sitting on a cushion, he probably would have imagined them doing so with their bum.
But no, Sirius was sprawled on the floor with both legs hooked over the cushion as though he merely wanted to occupy it without a desire to enjoy its best amenity: a softness the floor could not provide. Sirius had always been this way. He sprawled. He had sprawled in the Gryffindor Common Room when they were barely more than kids, and he had always preferred the floor, but somehow managed to use chairs anyway. They held his bags or his books while he worked on the floor. Or now, his feet, while he gazed contemplatively at the ceiling.
Remus, far from being overjoyed, rather felt a twinge of annoyance. This was partly due to his realization that Sirius hadn't simply appeared, but rather he had been around for days, saying nothing and doing nothing to make himself known. "I'm sorry," Remus said tartly, "has my cushion done something to offend you?"
Only when Sirius' face turned towards him, mouth agape, did Remus register what was actually happening.
"Sirius, you're--"
"You can see me, then?" Sirius jumped up immediately and crossed the tiny room quickly. He threw his arms around Remus and grasped nothing. His arms went right through. "Bugger," Sirius groaned. "That'll come later," he nodded with assurance to himself.
"You're really a ghost." Remus was aware that he was staring.
Sirius opened his arms, looking awkward and nervous. "Not what you were hoping for, eh? Sorry I'm no Brazilian beauty, but I'm the ghost you're stuck with." Sirius actually sounded apologetic.
Remus thought back to his welcome of a moment before, his sharp words about the cushion, and felt a touch of shame. "No, Sirius -" Remus instinctively reached out to grasp Sirius' hand, but came away with nothing. "Did you say that would come later?"
Sirius nodded sternly. "It had better."
"Alright, well, words then," Remus smiled. "Where? How?"
"The, uh, well, never mind. It's in a book. I just followed the instructions."
"It's that easy?"
"No, not easy, but easier than becoming an animagus, and actually it is a kind of transfiguration, becoming energy and astral projection. Something the Muggles have -- mass-energy and how you can change between them."
Remus was still staring.
"I hope you don't really mind I'm haunting you?" Sirius asked
Remus didn't know what to say. He'd declared they use words, but what words were there for this? If there was a greeting card, what would it have said? So glad you thwarted the finality of death for me? How many ways can you change your very essence for me? What wouldn't you do for me? How do I deserve you? What he said was simply, "You - Sirius."
"Yeah, it's still my name," Sirius grinned now, playfully throwing himself on the couch, though the bits of him that touched Remus went through to rest on the couch as well.
"How does that work?" Remus points to where Sirius' ankle crossed his own knee, seeming to have slipped inside Remus.
Sirius shrugged and answered, "Something about passive energy and active energy. I fell asleep for that part of the book."
Remus laughed. "You really did this for me?" He turned to Sirius then, and saw the bare frankness in Sirius' eyes. Sirius and he were exchanging words without artifice, for what proprieties were left? In the shared moments those past few months of Sirius's life, both of them had been reticent to speak about feelings, to imply that either of them meant something different or unique to the other. It seemed they had come too far to take that final step. But what about this? Surely this was farther still.
"No," Sirius shook his head, and Remus felt his heart fall. Sirius had another motive.
"I did it for me, you berk," Sirius continued. "I'm not afraid of going on to whatever's next alone, you know. I just didn't want to."
Remus smiled gently. "You don't do much that you don't want to do, do you Sirius?"
Sirius stretched out and puckered up theatrically, but Remus made no move towards kissing the man he loved, though he would certainly have wanted to. He did not think he could bear passing through Sirius a second time. Sirius, though, seemed to understand. He stood, unfazed, and his shadowy-transparent body seemed to float as he made a concerted effort to 'walk' across the room to the fireplace.
"We'll get there," Remus said quietly, recognizing disappointment in Sirius' hunched shoulders.
Sirius nodded. Remus rose to make himself a sandwich.
~*~*~
Six Months Later
There were many things they had gotten used to, but the one that had taken most time was the fact that no one else could see Sirius. Remus had grown up with ghosts. They were a part of his life. He'd had conversations with Sir Nicholas and had thought of Nick as a sort of uncle, someone he could talk to that was not a friend, professor, or parent. But he had never before heard of a real ghost that no one else could see. Oh, of course Muggles had them, but that was natural, since Muggles couldn't see ghosts at all. They were always relying on the second-hand knowledge of wizards, where ghosts came into question. Many Muggle reports of ghosts came from small children who later grew up to manifest magical ability of a more active sort. Lily Evans had been one such child. She remembered seeing a ghost as a very young child, but she had turned up at Hogwarts like so many other girl-children ghost-seers.
In fact, if it weren't for the pages of Sirius' book - and many other books like it that Remus was sure to look up and flip through - Remus would have assumed he was going insane. But all authorities on necromancy and ghosts agreed: if a ghost was bound to a person rather than to the world, only that person would be able to observe or interact with them. Remus spent the better part of a half a year debating with Sirius on whether or not he should reveal Sirius' presence to anyone else.
At first, he and Sirius had agreed that they shouldn't. Sirius had never been keen on the idea of revealing the exact nature of the relationship the two of them had shared, and this would just cause others to ask more questions that Sirius did not want to have to answer. Not that, of course, he would have to answer any questions, as no one could hear him anyway. Remus agreed only because, while there was no way to prove Sirius's existence as a spirit, Remus might as well be crazy, even if he did not believe this about himself any longer. Still, would it not introduce some questions about his sanity? There were members of the Order even now who were not overly keen about having a werewolf among their ranks. A crazed werewolf would, as Muggles put it, go over like a leaded balloon.
Now, though, things had changed. Sirius was no longer a specter in Remus's mind; Sirius had by now developed the ability to move objects, objects visible to everyone. That was the only proof Remus could offer, and for some it would not be enough, but Remus could easily think of one person for whom it would be more than adequate.
And thus it was that he came to be standing in Hogsmeade with Harry on a Sunday morning. Remus had waited for a Hogsmeade weekend, bought Harry a mug of butterbeer, strolled with him through the little town, but now he could delay no longer.
"Harry," Remus began, "There's something very important that I need to tell you." Harry looked concerned and Remus regretted his words belatedly, realizing that Harry was used to bad news.
"Just tell him already," Sirius groaned impatiently from beside Remus. Remus had gotten used, in the past six months, to not showing any outward symptom of response to the affectionate nagging of his erstwhile partner in life and in death.
"Harry, I'm being haunted by a ghost," Remus said bluntly.
Harry frowned. "Do you mean that literally or figuratively?"
"Would you take both as an answer?"
"Huh?"
Remus sighed. Harry could be bright in some ways, but he certainly was not Hermione.
"Get on with it," Sirius insisted.
"Literally," Remus nodded.
"At your flat?" Harry asked. "Is it making some trouble for you or something? Why is this important?"
"Harry." Remus pointed to a convenient bench. It was cold out, but the cold allowed Remus to pull his scarf up a bit more, to hide behind its protective layers. Harry obediently took a seat.
Remus began again. "I am being haunted by Sirius."
Harry gasped and drew back a bit. Sirius seemed grave - all puns aside.
"Why haven't you said something before?" Harry sounded angry, and Remus was not the least bit surprised by that. "Why hasn't he been to see me? I thought you said no more secrets. I thought he said -"
"Harry, let me explain," Remus interrupted, even as Sirius started blurting out his own defense, unheard by anyone but Remus. Remus knew without asking just how much that must frustrate Sirius, to not be heard by the people he was addressing.
"I don't want to hear it," Harry snapped, standing. Remus reached out and grabbed Harry's jacket swiftly.
"Too bad. Sit." There was urgency and force behind his voice and Harry, probably unaccustomed to hearing it, did exactly as he was told.
"Sirius is not your usual kind of ghost, Harry. I'm the only one who can see him - "
"That's a convenient excuse."
"It's the truth. He's been haunting me for nearly six months now, but I haven't told anyone because I had no way to prove it and I didn't want people think I was mad."
"Maybe you are," Harry quipped.
Remus sat back and shrugged, turning with a frown to the thin air beside him that held Sirius. He could not reason with the boy when he was acting this way.
Sirius offered no advice, though, and Remus was spared having to decide what to do or say next when Harry stood and stormed off just a moment later.
~*~*~
Three days after this disastrous attempt to explain his haunting to Harry, Remus was only very mildly surprised to come home from the market to find Harry inside his flat.
"You are supposed to be at school," Remus said matter-of-factly by way of a greeting.
"Was what you said on Sunday true?"
"What class are you missing, anyway?"
Harry shook his head. "Divinations."
"It's all rot anyway," Sirius said from behind Remus. Remus turned a bit with a smile, but answered Harry, "Your truancy might have been foreseen in that case." Harry rolled his eyes.
"I've never seen a Divs professor foresee the need to piss," Sirius laughed.
Remus winced and then laughed in spite of himself. To Harry he said, "Did I ever tell you that I quit Divinations?"
"Uh... no?"
"Well, I did. In very much the same manner as Hermione did, actually. Professor Zodias insisted one day that the Moon held good tidings for me and that she was a gentle benefactor. He also insisted that my mum had been a teapot in a past life. I walked out."
"I remember that," Sirius said quietly.
"Uh...about what you said the other day..." Harry fidgeted awkwardly, trying to restart the stalled conversation. "Sorry I reacted - it's just...I was wondering, is it true?"
"Quite." Remus smiled tensely.
"Is he, uh, here, now?"
Remus put his bag from the market down on the coffee table and, with a rogue carrot that was trying to escape the bag, pointed deftly to where Sirius had just flopped into an armchair, legs sprawled.
"...Sirius?" Harry's voice was tight.
"Alright there Harry." Sirius's own voice was brimming with tenderness, and Remus smiled sadly at the little injustices life dealt: Harry was finally being given the filial tenderness he so deserved, but he was unable to receive it.
"It's a small consolation, I know," Remus interrupted, replacing the carrot in his bag, "but I can hear and see both of you. I can deliver messages if you like."
"No, 's okay," Harry sunk further into his chair glumly.
"Harry, Sirius... he isn't choosing to not be seen by you. You know that, right?" Harry nodded, but Remus got the distinct impression that Harry had not known that until just now.
"I've just... never heard of a ghost that other people couldn't see," Harry said.
"If it makes you feel better Harry, I am very impressed and also quite, um, inspired, by your display of faith in me. You haven't asked for any proof. I wanted to tell you before now, but I didn't want to do so until I could provide proof."
"I called you mad," Harry answered sadly.
"You were hurt. I know you didn't mean that."
Harry nodded and answered only, "I know you wouldn't joke about something like this. I don't need proof."
"I appreciate it. You must know that I'm sure Sirius would appear to you if he could."
"'Course I would," Sirius answered.
Remus smiled and said to Harry, "He says 'course he would'."
Harry smiled sadly, still looking down. "Nearly Headless Nick said that Sirius wouldn't be a ghost because he wasn't afraid of death."
Remus took a seat next to Sirius with a sigh. He smiled inwardly at the mention of his own ex-mentor Nick. Nick was generally much more wise and circumspect than he let on, but this was likely something Nick didn't know anything about or wouldn't have suspected.
To Harry, Remus said, "There are different kinds of hauntings...different kinds of ghosts, if you will. Nick is one kind, and it is that kind that he knows about. Sirius is a different, rarer kind that very few people know about. I've done some reading." Remus pointed to a book on the coffee table next to his groceries. A plain bit of paper marked the page that had originally been held by the bouquet of Sirius' hair. That talisman now went always with Remus in his inner breast pocket. Harry opened the book and skimmed. He then looked up sharply at Remus.
"You-?"
Remus nodded.
Harry lowered his head and rubbed his face. When his hand came away, it was smeared with tears.
"Shite," Sirius hissed.
"What's wrong?" Remus asked.
"Nothing," Harry answered.
"I'm sorry if this news is disappointing to you-"
Harry laughed. "I'm not disappointed. I'm happy for you. For him. I just feel like I've been such a selfish idiot, sitting here thinking about how I wish Sirius would appear to me instead of you, but he's happier with you than he would be with me."
"That's not true--" Sirius started, but the was stopped when Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "What I meant was that I love him, just in a different--"
"I know what you meant," Remus interrupted with a chuckle.
"This is weird," Harry muttered.
Remus smiled tensely, but it collapsed into a more genuine smile as he turned to Harry and said, "It's nice to be able to talk to Sirius in company, Harry."
Harry looked, misty-eyed, to the 'empty' place Remus had addressed his remark to Sirius and said quietly, "It's nice to have you back, Sirius."
"Right," Remus stood. "You two talk, I'll put on tea."
"But how can I--" Harry gestured helplessly.
"Harry," Remus sighed in exasperation and put on what he hoped was a somewhat professorial voice, "Sirius cares about you very much and I'm sure he would appreciate hearing about what's been going on in your life. His ears work just fine. If he has any important responses, he can dictate them to me later, but he always was most fond of hearing from you."
Harry smiled just a bit and Remus made his exit. If it took him a bit longer to get the tea than usual, well, propriety makes demands to which boiling water doesn't always acquiesce.
~*~*~
"And then the bitch was attacked by centaurs," Sirius laughed.
"That's not really funny..."
"Did you know Slughorn's back at Hogwarts?"
"Yes, actually."
"And Dumbledore is letting Snape teach the Dark Arts."
"Defence, Sirius."
"Yeah, right, I'll believe that when I see it with my own eyes. Wouldn't want them able to defend themselves!"
"He's on our side-"
"Says you."
"Says Dumbledore."
"Harry's heard him plotting with Draco Malfoy."
"Harry can be overly emotional where Draco is concerned."
Sirius snorted. "Mark my words..."
"I'd really rather not. Now will you please let me sleep," Remus groaned into his pillow.
"Right, sorry."
Remus rolled over. He could still hear Sirius muttering about the stupidity of letting Severus teach Defence. Sirius was six months dead, but still staying up all night mumbling about how much he hated Severus and keeping Remus awake for the tirades.
Remus smiled despite himself. "I love you, Sirius, never forget that."
He felt Sirius's arms encircle him - what a joy to feel him again now that Sirius knew how to do this! "'Course I won't," Sirius laughed in his ear. And, if there was no puff of warm air accompanying it, Remus wasn't bothered. He had never really possessed Sirius as completely as he did now, though the man had in fact haunted him for his entire adult life. It worked for them somehow, for Remus to convey Sirius's feeling and emotions to the outside world, even when he didn't make them known as Sirius's. It was, after all, maybe not a good idea to tell anyone but Harry about Sirius. But Sirius trusted Remus, he was sure, to convey his concerns. Remus was relieved in a sense to have this new measure of control over Sirius. Sirius had always desired a firm and gentle hand in any lover or friend, and now Remus felt fully able to be what Sirius most needed.
"Thank you," Sirius whispered.
"Sleep," groaned Remus.
"I don't need to, I'm a ghost. BOO."
"I meant, please let me."
"Right, sorry."