Cut and groomed to disgusting perfection, a Ministry employee escorted a young and charming architect, Chaz Lawrence, through the thick foliage and uneven ground that plagued an old, dilapidated, and oversized estate.

"Now this is one of the Addams'," began the ministry woman, who habitually raised her nose far too high in the air than was necessary, "Donated as a happy haunt for poltergeists, ghosts, and any other manner of supernatural mayhem." Her voice sneered despite her calm disposition.

She continued to the front door of the grand home that was the mantlepiece on top of the crooked trees and tall weeds, "Rather than torture muggles at large we give them one night of the year, the most important night of the year," the woman turned to face Chaz with wide eyes and condescending eyebrows, "To allow them to run amok in their own special place," she turned back towards the house and began walking towards it, raising her nose high in the air again.

"Anyone, wizard or muggle, be damned if they happen upon one of these places--" her voice finally subdued and whispered as she spoke again, "Hallowed Haunt made on Hallowed Grounds," for one moment she looked back at Chaz with a calm and sincere gaze, before they arrived at the front door.

"So everything must be perfect," Her criticism started biting again as she stuffed a key into one of the doors and narrowed her eyes at Chaz, "Everything. Every. Last. Little. Tiny. Microscopic. Thing." She moved away from the door and gave Chaz a curt nod. "It must go according to plan..." she smoothed out her shirt as she opened the large front door, "So no funny stuff."

The door opened into a deafening silence and a shadowy foyer, where only the creaking of the front door dare make a noise. But the ministry worker seemed unfazed by it for the moment as she called, "Mr. Foley?"

After the woman's echo faded, creaks and whispers echoed through the dark and cavernous foyer and up the towering staircases climbing to the second and third floor of the overgrown mansion. Then there was silence.

"Mr. Fole--"

WHAM!

A  door on the third floor slammed open and a figure suddenly lunged over the balcony and looked down at Chaz and his guide, causing the ministry worker to stagger backwards before patting her chest, "Morning!" waved the ginger leaning over the balcony. He was wearing a tight black shirt with twilled cotton pants, looking a bit too much like denim--but the light and heavy texture was that of magical origins.

The man gave a large smile as he looked down at the younger wizard, "Oh who's that?"

Suddenly the man went back into the door from where he came, slamming the door once again. And then the front door opened from behind the two arrivals as the short and brawny Torquil Foley emerged holding up a heavy pocket watch as he gave Chaz his analytical hazel gaze, "Scarecrow?" The elder wizard paced around Chaz as he turned a dial and popped open a face on his pocket watch, to reveal another face lit up with strange markings, numbers, and dials--"No, no, something more solid."

The redhead then raised his gaze and gave Chaz a quick poke to his forehead and then gave a short stifled chuckle, "Oh, hah, you're alive!"

Chaz trailed along after the prim ministry employee with a benign smile on his face.  She was tight and officious, clearly a minor player with a lot riding on this single event.  Poor woman, she potentially had all of her advancement opportunities riding on a single night, a night catering to poltergeist no less. 

Not that he had any room to pity her because his own advancement opportunities rested on this as well.  He needed to do well here so that he could establish professional ties to the wizarding community in London.  Chaz was tempted to tell the woman, when she said for the hundredth time how important this was, that he was doing this commission pro bono. Volunteer design for the government was extremely low on the list of things an architect ought to want to do.  He got all the pressure without the compensation of pay.  Portfolio additions, he reminded himself.

Funny stuff, he smirked idly and wondered what kind of funny stuff would set this little woman off.  What kind of funny stuff would even be noticed after the poltergeists got to it.  Chaz looked around at the Addams' house donated for the event.  It was old and falling apart but it had a lot of potential.  Ideas, funny stuff, no doubt, began to circle around and around in his mind.  This wasn't going to be the standard haunt, that was for sure.  Work or no, he would never sacrifice his design voice for a bland but safe result.

One Mr. Foley, with whom he was supposed to work on this project, was a well dressed man but clearly a little bit eccentric.  Chaz was aware that he was tall and slender but scarecrow?  He'd never been accused of being so scrawny before.  Mr.  Foley regarded his pocket watch, as though it was telling him what, exactly Chaz was.  Chaz craned is neck to try and see what it said but received a firm poke square on his forehead for his troubles. 

"Oh, hah, you're alive!"

A broad grin broke out on Chaz's face immediately: he liked this man.  "You know," he said, "that's really great to know.  Some days I have my doubts."  He glanced at the ministry employee, thinking about how putting up with her for so long had him wondering about it on this very day.  He put his hand out to the ginger haired man to shake.  "My name's Chaz Lawrence."

The woman recovered from her momentary heart attack with her usual critical stab, "Only ghosts and poltergeists should be here, Mr. Foley," but her voice was softer and much more subdued for the elder man.

Torquil just shrugged his broad shoulders with a lopsided smirk, "Can't blame the ones who come here early," then the ginger turned and faced Chaz "Oh yes, Torquil, Torquil Foley! Just making sure none of the normal doors work properly before I start onto the trap ones. Always hard to find help for these projects on Halloween." Yes, few people were willing to work with ghosts, poltergeists, and any other manner of supernatural creatures for Halloween night.

"Yes well that's all good and fun," the woman quickly interrupted, "but remember the staff needs to get out alive, at the least..."

Torquil hopped on the balls of his feet as he spoke with calm amusement, "Well that's a kill joy."

"Mr. Foley!"

The Irish man chuckled, apparently the woman didn't like a little humor with her creeps, "Oh give a little cheer," Torquil patted a firm hand on Chaz's back, probably too hard, but the older man was just happy to have some live company, "Lawrence and I will do a fine job, I'm not sure why more people don't work on Hallowed Homes anyway--they're such a treat." A smile appeared beneath his mustache as the ministry woman raised an eyebrow towards him with a scornful cut to her lips.

"Treat indeed... well I'll leave you both to your work," she turned and walked towards the entrance, putting her hand on the door as she raised her voice at the two men, "I expect this project to be completed before the thirty-first--or before nightfall on that date," but as she turned the handle on the door Torquil quickly chirped in.

"No no," he had his watch out again looking around the foyer before pointing at an old grandfather clock, "Try the clock."

The woman sighed and rubbed her forehead as she briskly walked towards the clock, opened its case, and stepped inside. She immediately was sucked through its floor before a distant scream broke through the backside of the house.

Torquil scrunched his nose and furrowed his red brows as he closed his pocket watch and slowly nodded, "...Maybe that was to the swamp... oh well," the Irish hum of his voice picked up as he patted Chaz on the back again, "Have you ever worked on a Hallowed Home, or set foot in one before, boy?"

Chaz was certain that, by the end of the day, he'd end up in that self-same swamp, if only because there was absolutely nothing about this house that could be counted upon to be the way it was supposed to be.  His only comfort was that the ministry woman would probably still be down there.  She didn't seem like the kind of woman who excelled in the practical magic that would get her out of such a pickle quickly.

Torquil, on the other hand, seemed imminently useful in an unpredictable and random kind of way.  He was bright and fun, redheaded and Irish.  For the first time since he volunteered for this goodwill design, Chaz actually began to feel a tingle of excitement in hi gut.  Perhaps he'd get a valuable experience out of this yet.

"I know nothing about Hallowed Houses," he admitted.  "Never even heard of them before I volunteered for this.  If there were any in Rothenburg, my parents were too high to ever go near one."

He turned away from the entrance and tilted his head back to survey the large foyer.  "What's it about?" he asked a bit dazedly.  "What will we be doing here?"

"Son of a Banshee," Torquil cursed with a breath of a chuckle--pitiful and hilarious. He pat the boy on the back again and pushed him to walk down one of the long hallways, towards a room which required no doors to be opened, "All right boy, here's your crash course," the scruffy red-head said as he quickly strode towards an arching entrance that blossomed into a large ballroom.

Torquil then turned towards Chaz and opened his arms up to the room as his voice boomed through the chamber, "Every Halloween something happens, something we can't all explain--but it's a brilliant and horrifying time of year, " Torquil laughed as he moved towards a fireplace on the backwall before he continued in his sing-songy tune, "And a handful of magical beings and spirits get restless."

He then leaned on the large fireplace and nodded towards the younger wizard, "Wizards and witches, we know what to do with ourselves, we've got cultures we fall back on, and we all think they help us in some way," the Irishman then pounded a fist against the rockwall surrounding the fireplace, like he were knocking on a door.

"But others aren't so organized, and what with how many muggles populate the world--well they can't afford to be disorganized," suddenly, the fire roared to life with a deep purple burning its center and blue flames singing its edges, and the room filled with a burst of warmth, "So we make Hallowed Houses for them--Haunted if you like."

Suddenly, the room was sucked of all warmth and an icy breeze wafted into the room as the center of the fire filled with white glows that twisted into the shape of a face one might see on a pumpkin. Torquil smiled at the roaring maniacal flame before looking back at Chaz. As he jerked a thumb towards the fire, "This is a chill, if he gets a nice vent system to move around the house in--he'll be as subdued as a campfire this Halloween."

A haunted house, a real one that is.  Muggles made a big deal about them, apparently, but they were something of a joke to witches and wizards he'd met in Paris.  He'd had no idea that they were based on a real thing.  An unfortunate Muggle would occasionally come face to face with a ghost or two in old houses but it was unlikely one ever came across something like this.  Which was a good thing.  They might not make it out alive. 

He crouched down near the fireplace when Torquil pointed out the Chill living in it.  He couldn't get too close because the temperature dropped severely when he came near.  He scooched in a bit and ducked down further to get a better angle on the chimney flue.  Everything looked normal.  "I take it that you don't mean just a way of venting him off.  Perhaps he wants to be involved somehow?  Travel the house a bit?  Maybe we could set up a few openings for him to play in, you know, cause random drafts and such."

"Now you're thinking," Torquil hopped away from the fireplace while throwing an excited hand up in the air. The Chill's haunting gaze seemed to tilt towards the Irishman before it seemed to give a sharp and jagged smile, worthy of one carved upon a content pumpkin. The room settled back to a comfortable warmth as the Chilled bent its flames to the side, as if to give the man a better view of its sitting space.

"Now where-where-where," Torquil's voice suddenly dove into a scruffy hush as she rubbed a hand against his chin, "Could work level by level--nah to easy--ahh..." he crossed his bulky arms over each other as he churned his hair over the room before he lowered his gaze towards the floor, "Ahah!" he stomped his foot against the floor as he turned to look at Chaz.

"Brilliant basement down below," he gave a proud nod before his smile faltered with worry, "You're in shape though aren't you? Might not be a real problem," his thick fiery brows rose on his head as his teeth gently bit together with doubt, "Right now, you know? But uh, better safe than sorry." His mouth fell into a lopsided grin as he gave an easy chuckle towards his companion, "Might be something of a trial."