8:10pm
Followed an hour or so after this thread.


Wesley, a cup of hot chocolate in each hand, paused in the Entrance Hall, glancing from side to side. Where was the entrance to the Slytherin common room? He knew it was around here, somewhere. He hadn't had to move floors for this adventure so far. Everything good and nice in the world was clustered conveniently on the lower levels of Hogwarts. The Great Hall, on the ground floor. The Hufflepuff house and the kitchens, in the dungeons. And Elaine, also in the dungeons.

He liked Elaine. She was funny and smart, and had even deemed him "strong and brave", which no one but the Sorting Hat had ever before suggested. Who cared if she'd said something slightly snarky once? It didn't bother him, so it shouldn't bother anyone else.

The problem was, he was late. He was always late. He just didn't know how late.

He checked the left corridor of the Entrance Hall. No Elaine.

This time, Wesley had a decent excuse for being late. He hadn't understood how to get into the kitchens, and had stood in front of the still-life paintings talking to the fruit until a house elf had popped out and asked if he needed something.

When he'd asked if they wouldn't mind giving him two mugs of hot chocolate, they'd whisked him inside the kitchens and made a production out of it, and they'd even given him sweets! As he meandered, he pinned the pockets of his cardigan closed with his elbows, keeping the sweets contained.

"Elaine!" He grinned as he turned into another corridor adjoining the Entrance Hall.

There she was, ghost hunter extraordinaire! Ghosts were real, in the castle. They floated, and spoke, and had such varied personalities. He couldn't wait to meet the new spirit haunting the dungeons.

"Hot chocolate, with whipcream, and house elf sparkles. Haha, kidding. They're just sprinkles."

He handed her the mug, with a handy little paper lid that an elf had supplied after watching Wesley fumble the sweets.

"The elves gave me a ton of other good stuff, too. Did you have a light dinner? I didn't, but I'll do my best."

He reached into one cardigan pocket and offered her a handful of wrapped treats.

Obviously, Welsey must have gotten lost.  Elaine didn't blame him; she still had a tendency to get turned around if she took a wrong turn.  All of the levels of the castle had a somewhat maze-like arrangement, but the repetitive nature of the dungeons made it even more confusing on the lower levels.  That, of course, made them all the more fun. 

When Wesley wasn't on time, Elaine had started making her way up to the entrance hall to rescue him from whatever peril he'd managed to put himself in. 

She was only a few turns shy of Entrance Hall when she spotted the young Hufflepuff rounded the corner.  With a skip in her step, Elaine closed the distance between them, clasping her hands in front of her. 

This felt so mischievous. 

"Hi!" she offered in return.  "Ooo.  Well, elves sprinkled them, so they are elf sprinkles.  In a way, yes?"  She accepted the cup of cocoa and cradled it between her fingers.  Even though it was still early September, the stone corridors cooled off quickly in the evening.  The warmth seeping through the cup was a welcome contrast to the cold stone. 

"No.  But, that was a couple hours ago," Elaine admitted.  "I'm sure I can make room for more."  Not that she intended on pigging out on sweets.  A few here and there wouldn't hurt, though. 

Elaine lifted the edge of the lid and blew across the surface of the cocoa.  "It sounded like Peeves was causing trouble down the potions corridor," she said, knowingly.  "I recommend we start looking in the opposite direction.  I don't want him messing up my shoes." 

"Have you heard anything about where you think the ghost might be hiding?"

He grinned at the mention of Peeves, who he found more entertaining than annoying, so far.

"Reckon he's haunting Darkfall again? I hear he got him good the other day, right before a class."[1]

Darkfall didn't deserve that, really. Peeves should branch out and pester professors like Storm. That was Wesley's advice.

He barely glanced at her shoes, and then at his own. Eh, nothing special. Shoes were shoes, and his cheap, new loafers were doomed to split at the seams before the month was out. Popping a candy into his mouth, he turned away from the Potions corridor, and picked a random corridor to start down.

"No," he answered, surprised, though it was a sensible question. Wesley had prioritized hunting down snacks, and then he'd just assumed they'd stumble upon adventure if they meandered long enough.

"We could ask the portraits," he pointed at the array of paintings dotting the Entrance Hall, just around the corner.

"Some of the paintings talk and some of them don't," he informed her cheerfully. "Oranges and strawberries don't talk. I thought they might, for a moment, but that was just a house elf in the kitchens."

1.	Fourth year class - Sept 5th

"Oh, I hope not."  Nervously, Elaine turned and took a few backwards steps next to Wesley, as if she expected to see Peeves floating up on them from behind.  Elaine wasn't going to lie: "he scares me.  I'm convinced I'm going to run into him, alone." 

Elaine liked to think of herself as brave and tough but only because she thought of herself as adventurous.  She loved the excitement of exploring new things and meeting new people but she'd always had the safety of her father and the crew.  Elaine hadn't expected to feel so insecure without them and away from home.   

But, there was no sign of the specter so Elaine turned forward, again. 

Elaine drew up on her heels, taking a hold of Wesley's sleeve and turning towards him.  Peeves was loose and he didn't know where they were going?  Or where to even start?  B&S Wold didn't have a more concrete plan?

"I know some of them talk.  Some strange knight with his pony kept telling me I needed to be saved.  I was just trying to find the girl's loo.  He finally sent me to the trophy room."  All in all, the knight hadn't left her feeling confident about the helpful capabilities of paints. 

Elaine glanced around, making sure her curls accentuated the gesture with perfect bounces.  "We're just going to walk up to a random painting and ask, Excuse me, Madam Candlestick, have you seen a ghost?" 

"Well, there's an old storage room down this way.  Maybe there's a bored portrait down there that will help." 

Wesley looked at Elaine oddly as she held onto his sleeve. The gesture happened to spare her from a joke forming in his mind about pissing in the trophy room. She couldn't get to the girl's loo. Maybe she'd peed into a trophy. Hilarious!

Why was she hanging onto his sleeve?

Elaine glanced around, her curls flopping over her shoulders. Wes followed her glance, finding nothing amiss. Was she scared? Oh right, she'd said so a moment ago!  Peeves. Wes just hoped the poltergeist stayed away from the staircases. He'd jumped out of his skin the first time they'd moved, way up high.

He gave her his most reassuring smile, oblivious to the chocolate staining his mouth.

"Well, yeah," Wes said simply, tucking his arm out. His younger siblings hung onto him like that. Though it was a bit weird, since she was his age, he felt B & S, too![1]

"If Candlestick doesn't know, we'll try the others." Wesley slurped at his hot chocolate. "We'll avoid the dumb knight. Did you notice, was his head still attached to his neck, or was it lobbed off?"

He asked as they moved toward the storage room, their footsteps echoing in the quiet halls. "There's a ghost that's nearly headless. The Gryffindor one," he nodded, proud of remembering. "I keep expecting him to go..."

Wesley titled his head to one side, giving Elaine a goofy look. "Now kids, if I only had a brain!"

1.	Wesley, brave and strong!

Elaine stared at Wesley for a moment, trying to determine if his question had been serious.  Did she notice if his head was still attached?  As if such a detail were one that people were prone to overlooking?  A head wasn't shoelaces.  Its proper arrangement on one's neck was far more noticeable then the presence or absence of a bow. 

"No.  I didn't notice." Elaine offered, with no shortage of sarcasm in her voice.  She gave Wesley that down-the-nose look her mother gave her when she was saying something equally ridiculous.  Which wasn't very often, of course.  "Yes.  His head was on top of his neck.  It wasn't propelling through the air like a quaffle." 

How scandalous an image!  Elaine giggled and covered her mouth with her hand.

"That sounds ... that's awful."  Despite herself, and despite her admonishment, Elaine laughed at Wesley's antics.  She was sure the ghost wouldn't appreciate being laughed about.  Certainly, the Bloody Baron wouldn't, she was certain.  He came off as such a grump, sometimes.  "Though, I don't know why a wizard would let himself be partially beheaded," she couldn't help but admit.  "I mean, couldn't a wizard outwit an axe?"  Either for escape or ... a more efficient means of being finished. 

All much more gruesome and morbid thoughts then were Elaine's usual fair. 

With a slight shiver, Elaine turned her attention to the musty-looking candlestick and cleared her throat.  "Mr. Candlestick, sir.  Or - Mrs. Candlestick?"  Elaine cast a questioning glance at Wesley before shrugging and turning back to the painting.  "Could you tell us, please, have you seen a ghost?" 

The candlestick remained perfectly motionless, aside from the persistent flickering of the flames.  "Maybe it's asleep?" Elaine whispered to Wesley.  Tentatively, she reached a hand out and tapped the painted candlestick on the base.  "Have you seen a ghost?" she said, more loudly. 

Wesley laughed at Elaine's snooty tone and expression, and her mention of the portrait's head propelling through the air like a quaffle, glad that she found it funny, too. She should laugh at herself more. She was hilarious.

"Huh? If Nearly Headless Nick was being beheaded then he'd lost his wand at that point, Elaine," he tried to mimic her knowing tone, and ruined it with a smile.

"Or someone could have thrown the axe at him," he made a throwing gesture with his arm, as if chucking a gnome out of a garden. "Expelliar- hurck!"

Wes attempted a gross gurgling sound in the back of his throat. It wasn't quite right. He cleared his throat and tried again, then looked at her face and stopped.

In front of the portrait, he nodded and gave Elaine a thumb's up when she questioned the candlestick politely.

"Have. you. seen. a new ghost?" Wesley repeated in a louder voice.

The candle continued to flicker.

"What's that racket?" A voice yawned from another portrait several feet away. "Children should be asleep at this time!"

Boring children, Wesley decided.

He sauntered over to the other portrait, much larger and ornate than the humble candlestick he'd abandoned. The woman in the portrait wore a high, puffy hair bun adorned with feathers and strands of pearls, and her pastel green dress sported more frills and bows than he'd seen in his life. It had a sheen to it that glimmered as she moved. A swing swung lightly in the background, surrounded by greenery and flowers and the small statue of a cupid peeking out between the leaves. Wesley didn't understand how she fit onto the swing, if she ever did. The lower half of her dress bustled in a strange square shape.

"Child!" She accused him, the feathers on her head flouncing. "Why are you skulking about? You are quite noisy."

"We're looking for the new ghost," Wesley spread out his hands. "Have you seen it?"

Her nostrils quivered. "I pay little attention to such spooks and shadows! They have no regard for my delicate slumber, either!"

She tilted her head back, and looked down her pert nose at him.

Wesley nudged Elaine and shot her a sly grin. "Is she related to you?"

Elaine grinned back at Wesley, trying to and mostly succeeding in finding the humor in the idea of being beheaded simply as a result of a lost wand.  She didn't want to spoil the fun by pointing out that that was a terrifying thought, but she couldn't resist patting the reassuring round bump that was the wand in her pocket and taking a comforting sip of her hot cocoa. 

She'd be sure to sleep with her wand under her pillow for atleast a week.  Her hair was far too perfect to be marred by a beheading. 

And, now, the Hufflepuff was mimicking the act!  "Wes!" Elaine half-laughed, half-admonished, covering her mouth with her free hand at the scandal of it all.  Her voice echoed, briefly, down the stone corridors and she wiped her head around. 

"That's awful!"  Despite the admonishment, she was still grinning as she took a sip of cocoa.  "Have you always been this ..."  What word would her mother use?  Well, it probably was not the most appropriate to use in the company of the one it was directed at.  "Devil may care?  You talk like a sailor!" 

A statement that was only true because Elaine only overheard a small portion of what sailors normally said.  Of course, they were always careful to curtail their mischievous ways when the captain's daughter was around. 

Each of the two corridor-sulking children greeted the delicately dressed woman in the painting in their own way.  As Wesley blurted out his question, Elaine primly pinched the sides of her uniform skirt and pointed one foot as she dipped, primly into a curtsy.  The portrait took notice, and offense, at Wesley's more ... vibrant ... introduction before spotting of the curly-haired girl next to him. 

"We apologize for disturbing your slumber, Ms." Elaine piped up.  Her finely polished demeanor faltered just briefly as she shot a warning glance towards Wesley.  "We need her help, don't we?" she whispered.  "And, I don't-" She glanced at the portrait out of the corner of her eye. 

"You wouldn't, by chance, be related to the Spectres or Bellamy's, would you?"

"My dear, I'm a painting."  The portrait's tone was still prim, but less annoyed.  Elaine shrugged, then refocused.

"Really, ma'am, we hate to disturb your rest.  You do look very comfortable ... standing ... there.  But, we really are hoping to find this new ghost.  If you've seen him or her, it would sure be a help to us." 

With a relenting sigh, the woman rolled her eyes and leaned against, rather then sat in, the swing.  "There's a painting of doxies in a tree down the corridor past Slytherin house.  Rumor has it, they were twittering on about the ghost a few days ago.  Something about lurking in old suits of armor.  That's all I know, now, please, let me sleep.  As should you!"

With a broad grin, Elaine nudged Wesley's arm.  "A lead!  We have a lead!"

"I do?" Wes said, thrilled. He talked like a sailor! He couldn't wait to tell his cousin Wendy.

If he talked like a sailor, Elaine talked like someone from those old fashioned, black and white movies that his aunt loved to watch. He chuckled as she curtsied to the painting, managing to charm the portrait with sheer politeness and grace.

He'd forgotten what doxies were, but he was sure they'd be helpful, and grinned as Elaine nudged his arm.

"Thanks!" Wes gave the lady a thumb's up. She sniffed, and reached into the branches above for the frilliest sleeping cap he'd ever seen.

"That was excellent!" He nudged Elaine's arm as they walked away. "You really know how to talk to stuffy old portraits."

"Pardon me, young man!" The portrait called from the end of the hall.

Wesley walked faster, hunching over his mug of hot chocolate as if the lady couldn't see him. Yes, he was often this 'devil may care'. He couldn't seem to help it.

"There's an armor gallery on the second or third floor," he glanced at her, in case she knew which. "Want to talk to the doxies first? I do."

Wes didn't care about time or curfews. He didn't even own a watch. He woke to the sound of his dorm mates fighting over the loo and throwing stinky socks at each other, just like his siblings at home!

Elaine looked at Wesley with obvious confusion and a touch of doubt.  She really didn't understand what was so difficult about addressing a clearly well-cultured portrait with due respect.  "Just pretend they're your grandmother," Elaine offered, as a suggestion.  "Would you call your grandmother 'stuffy and old'?"

Elaine was starting to understand her mother's warnings about boys.

"I think talking to the doxies would be better than running around blindly, don't you?" Elaine replied.  Surely, Wesley could understand that, right?  Honestly, Wesley just needed to accept that Elaine would usually be right and that would simplify things.  Whether it came to winning over respectable portraits with charm, ingredient selection or Wesley's sailor-esque attitude.

Elaine dipped her head in a wise, I know these things fashion.  "You do.  I know sailors - lots of them.  They can be quite crass and rebellious."  Traits which, to date, young Wesley seemed to demonstrate in spades. 

"I bet you could make a good sailor," Elaine added on, conversationally.  "You should try some knot spells; they are quite handy." 

Elaine led the way through the dungeons, past the entrance to Slytherin house and down the nearby corridor.  The initial confidence that her success with Swing Lady faded with the encroaching shadows.  Her pace slowed, slightly, just enough to make sure Wesley was a half-stride ahead of her.  "They need more lanterns in the corridors.  I'll put that suggestion in the suggestion box."  If there wasn't a suggestion box outside the Headmaster's office, she was sure her mother could send her one. 

But, she quickly spotted the large painting of a bald, wintery tree and hurried over to it.  There were no sign of doxies.  Elaine cleared her throat and reached out to knock on the heavy wooden frame. 

"Excuse me, is anyone home?"

Wesley blinked. He wouldn't call his grandmother old and stuffy to her face. He hardly saw his grandparents anymore.

His uncle wouldn't let them go to their grandparents house, not after Wren and Wyatt had hurt themselves there. The house smelled bad, and was full of piles and towers of old things that smelled bad. And yet, it was the only place he could find pictures and mementos of his mother when she'd been young. His grandparents had kept all her primary school assignments, her craft projects made out of sticks, her favorite markers and pens, and a raggedy silver and green scarf. They kept it all, ever since she'd left and never come back home.

His face fell. Then he pushed the thoughts aside and nodded, smiling at her description of the sailors. Crass and rebellious. They sounded like great role models to him.

"Do you know any knot spells? Can you show me sometime?"

He wondered what other spells sailors knew, as they walked down the dimly lit halls. She talked about a suggestion box, which he had never heard of before. It must be a magical thing.

"Why?" Wesley waited for her to catch up, forgetting about her earlier fear of Peeves. "We have our wands."

He pulled his wand out of his pocket. "Lumos," he tried.

Nope.

"Lumos," he tried again, and the wand lit. His face lit up, too.

Upon reaching the painting, Elaine knocked politely on the frame. The large, skeletal tree in the painting remained quiet. The tree branches bent and rustled in the wind.

"Yoohoo!" he tapped on the canvas. He waited. Wesley took a big slurp of hot chocolate right in front of the picture.

Slowly, a dark leaf fell from the tree. Then several more. They wove and chittered through the air, until they flew in front of the tree, and Wesley realized they weren't leaves.

They were like fairies, these doxies. Black fur covered their tiny bodies and wings. When they smiled, they revealed rows of sharp teeth.

"Hi!" Wesley smiled back. "Do you know where-"

The doxies pointed at his mug of hot chocolate and squealed, doing cartwheels in the air.

"What, this?" Wes lifted the mug up.

More chittering and jumping.

"It's chocolate! Pretty good. I can't share with you though. You're in a picture."

The doxies pressed their tiny hands against the canvas and made frowning faces with their sharp teeth.

"Can you tell us where the ghost is?"

They continued frowning. One stuck out its tongue.

Wes glanced at Elaine, and dug in his pocket, pulling out a small, wrapped treat. He waved it in the air.

"Hey! Yeah, it's brill! More chocolate! Have you seen the new ghost?"

He waved the treat from one end of the canvas to the other, watching them fall and hop over themselves to get it.

"Wheeeere's the ghost?"

"We.. want... chocolate!" High voices sounded.

"If you tell us where the ghost is, I'll give this to you."

They narrowed their beady little eyes at him, and Wes put his hand over his heart.

"Hufflepuff's honor."

"Corridor! ...Corridor of abandonment!"

Wesley looked back at Elaine, certain she'd know what they were talking about because of her earlier knowing glances and intonations.

"Thanks!" He told them, placing the wrapped treat right in the corner where the frame jutted out. The painting rattled. The treat fell off. He moved back.

Glancing at his empty mug of hot chocolate, he placed it on the floor against the wall and opposite the painting. The doxies shrieked with glee. He let out a startled laugh.

If his aunt could see him now, she would murder him for leaving out a piece of cookware. Take it to the sink and wash it, he heard in his head. But she wasn't here.

He shrugged at Elaine.

"Gives them something to get excited over, other than ghosts. Let's go!"

The blinking.  The blank stares.  Elaine assumed all of those were Wesley's slow realization and acceptance of the fact that she was right.  And, if this helped the young man show a little more tact when interacting with portraits of an advanced age, than this evening would have been a success. 

Ghost or no ghost.

But, Elaine was still hoping they'd find a ghost. 

"Do you know any knot spells? Can you show me sometime?"

"I do!" Elaine said, brightly, with a confident grin as she made a mental note to watch the sailors more closely over the winter holidays.  "And, I would be happy to.  They are wonderfully useful for a young sailor!" 

After all, young sailors were bold and unafraid of things like dark corridors and poltergeists.  Elaine watched Wesley cast lumos before lifting her own and, after a few false tries, managed to follow his example.  Which, indeed, made the area around them brighter and less creepy but it didn't do much for the dark ends of the corridors that they were walking towards.  That was what more torches would be good for. 

While proper, polite old portraits were clearly Elaine's forte, a tree full of doxies was  clearly much more up Wesley's alley.  The flighty little things completely ignored Elaine's unobtrusive knock but Wesley managed to successfully coax them out of trees with his more forceful introductions. 

Further demonstrating his brilliant aptitude for being a sailor, he managed to bribe information from the doxies with the promise of chocolates and sweets.  Elaine watched, patiently, as the doxies tripped over themselves to get at the bit of chocolate in his hand only and eventually gave them their next clue. 

"Corridor of abandonment?" Elaine repeated, pursing her lips as Wesley busied himself with trying to hand over the bribe.  She was half-tempted to suggest painting in the treat but she knew she lacked the artistic ability. 

"That's on the third floor," Elaine offered, hoping she sounded more confident than she really was.  She wanted to know the right answer to everything but, in this case, she wasn't so sure.  Hopefully, if she believed it enough, she could make it true. 

Elaine turned and led the way back down the corridor, holding out a hand when she reached the corner to stop Wesley.  "Prefect," she whispered, certain she heard footsteps and certain it had been an older student coming to give them detention. 

There was, really, no way to play it cool when a small, orange tabby cat rounded the corner and padded down the corridor towards Slytherin house but Elaine grinned at Wesley and chuckled.  She turned the corner, just in time to see something shimmering and pearlescant glide through a wall and into a storage closet. 

Elaine squeaked and jumped, nearly spilling her cocoa as she tugged at Wesley's sleeve. 

"Did you see it?  Did you see it?" she whispered.  "It was a ghost!  It went in there!"  She hurried over to the door and gave it a solid tug. It was, of course, decisively locked.  "Did you see if it was the Baron or Friar?" she asked, eyes wide with excitement.

"It was-" Wesley started excitedly, though he hadn't really seen it. When Elaine tugged on his sleeve, he'd caught a glimpse of a wafty wispy thing that resembled a clear shower curtain. Very mysterious!

"I think it had hair! And wasn't bloody! Not either of them, then! Could be the new ghost! Yeah!"

He stared at the locked door of the storage closet, knowing there was a spell to unlock things but having no idea what it was. He nudged the door with the tip of his shoe, testing its weight. Solid. Very solid. Kicking it down like a super hero would be bad.

Wesley smiled at Elaine, then cupped his hands against the door.

"Ghoooost. Hey ghost!"

He glanced at Elaine's hot chocolate, having left his by the painting of doxies. "Ghost, do you like chocolate?" He tried through the door.

No response. He shrugged at Elaine, curious if she'd have an idea of how to get inside, or how to coax the ghost out. She knew things, like how to get to the third floor without tripping on the loose step, and that prefects could transform into tabby cats. No, not really, but he wouldn't tease her about it now. He'd save it for later.

Wesley's clever description confirmed what Elaine thought she saw!  "No!  Definitely not either of those!"  From the little glimpse she got, it was also clear the ghost was neither slender nor tall enough for either of the other two house ghosts.  Maybe, just maybe, they had found it! 

Elaine threw an excited grin in Wesley's direction before turning expectantly towards the door. 

"Hurry, hurry!" She prompted, oblivious to the fact that her partner-in-crime didn't actually have any better ideas than she did.  "It's a ghost!  I'll just ... leave through the walls ..." 

They needed to get in before the ghost drifted away.  Poor shy little thing. 

"Ghoooost. Hey ghost!"

"It's not a dog!" Elaine chided, rolling her eyes and shagging her head.  "It's probably not going to come when it's called.  Yes, there.  Tempting it's a much better idea." 

Of course, that would only work if the ghost liked the memory of chocolate. 

Elaine bounced, impatiently and anxiously, on the balls of her feet.  The ghost was so close yet so, so very far - and potentially getting further and further as they stared at the stupid, wooden door! 

She let out a long, suffering sigh and grimaced apologetically at Wesley.  "Alright.  I know this isn't very ladylike.  So you have to promise not to tell.  Reputations and all."  Over the years, Elaine had picked up a skill or two from her father's officers and crew, use of a magical door pick being prominent among them. 

The young Slytherin tugged one of the pins free from her hair, liberating the abundant curls from their temporary bindings.  She crouched down to be at eye level with the door lock and started prodding it carefully with the sharp end of the pick.  "As long as there aren't strong charms keeping it locked, I should..." her voice trailed off as she grimaced in concentration.  It took a few attempts but, finally, the lock clicked and the door swung open. 

Elaine stepped inside the darkened classroom and peered through the shadows at the pearly figure floating in the corner.  She glanced, wide-eyed, at Wesley before looking back towards the specter.  "Hello?" she offered, tentatively. 

Wesley merely glanced at Elaine, too excited to really pay attention to his friend's chiding. He took a few steps down the hall, wondering if they could catch the ghost as it floated through the rooms. Then he hesitated, struck by a feeling he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Up to now, hunting the ghost had felt like a game, a fun game that they could continue evening after evening while they were supposed to be in their respective common rooms. He hadn't expected to find a ghost so soon. What if it wasn't like he'd hoped? Sometimes his ideas were much better than the reality.

He rejoined Elaine when she spoke, his smile returning as she bounced on the balls of her feet. She decided to solve things by... letting down her hair? He was pretty sure it was the opposite. He'd read a book once in which the heroine always tied back her hair to come up with solutions to problems. Wendy said that was bollocks, but he thought it was interesting. There Elaine went, picking the lock, loose hair and all!

His mouth gaped. Brilliant!

"Why wouldn't you want other people to know, Elaine? That's a skill!"

As the door closed behind them, Wes blinked at the darkness, taking a few moments to make out the pair of windows behind the teacher's desk framing the starry night sky. The wispy white figure floated through the rows of desks, the back of his bald head gleaming, his hands gnarled at his sides.

"Hello?" Elaine offered.

Wes stepped forward, peering at the too-short-by-a-few-inches trousers and the sweater vest. A grandpa! The ghost looked like a modern day grandpa. He'd expected someone like the Founders, or at least a proper wix sporting a long, dramatic cloak.

"Welcome! To Hogwarts," Wes said anyway, gesturing wide and knocking his hand into a chair. His breath fogged in the chilly air. "We found you."

The ghost did not look impressed. He did not turn around from his inspection of the windows. He did not even seem to notice them, the two intrepid first years who had spent their evening ghost hunting. Wesley felt the first inkling of disappointment, and pushed it away.

"I'm Wesley."

He glanced at Elaine with a slight grin, knowing better than to introduce her - she would do it in a much more refined and polite way.

Wesley walked closer to the ghost, knocking his shin into a desk. "Ow. Whatcha doing?"

The ghost turned his head, staring through him. He frowned a bit, and the lines in his ghostly face instantly drooped and settled, used to the expression.

"Mister," the ghost's low voice faltered, as if searching for a name. He frowned at Elaine, and the movement caused the stone pendant around his neck to swing. It looked round and heavy, indented with markings.

"Miss. Children," he grumbled. "What are you doing roaming the castle at this hour? Hmm? A Hufflepuff and a... Slytherin, no less," he looked a tad confused.

"We were looking for you," Wes said simply. "Aren't you glad?"

The ghost shook his head, muttered something under his breath, and turned back to the windows. A card peeked out of his back pocket, frayed at the edges.[1]

1.	If they get closer, or ask the ghost about it, the card is from a tarot deck and depicts The Hanged Man.