(3/23/13):

First Harry Potter fic, whoo!
I am quite aware that this sort of thing never actually happened ever, but I like to think that this one particular occurrence did.

I found the topic a cool thing to write about, so here it is. Hope you like!

I EDITED THIS TWICE, SO SORRY IF YOU GET A BIT CONFUSED.

(6/7/15):

*cracks knuckles* Let's see how I can fix all of this...

Hastened clicks skittered down the looming halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The walls were looming and the doorways tall. A rumble was occasionally sounded along the castle walls from the changing staircases, and it was no understatement at all to call such a place intimidating at first glance.

A black cloak lined with crimson fabric flowed behind the rushing boy, much like a cape. A golden crest with a noble lion shined in the contrast of the dark, and it had looked comically noble on the chest of the small, frightened student of which it donned.

The passage of which he ran loomed ominously in silence. Only but a breeze would sometimes whistle off of the walls, even though there were barely any open windows in one of these higher-up floors of the school. The halls were strangely quiet, especially for such a school. How late was he? How many points would his house lose because of him?

The first-year was the only one in its lonely presence. Sometimes he would stop to see if he knew where he was after every dozen twists and turns, but he had only got more and more lost. His coiled black hair bounced along ever which way he ran, but he had only been digging his grave deeper with every misguided step.

He had felt the breeze that bounced off of the walls pick up ever so slightly. The boy felt an indescribably chill run up his back at this point. If this were some sort of prank, he could respect that, but not very much at a time like this.

The student's brown eyes flickered from wall to wall and were on the verge of tears. He had to accept that he was completely and utterly lost. The abandoned hallways were intimidating, and had blocked him from any hope for directions. Perhaps he should try to find the stairs once again? No, knowing this school, the stairs could be gone by now...

With only half an hour left until the next class, the child had lost hope of making it to his first class on time; let alone make it there in the first place. He didn't get it- how could he get lost before even his first class ever? More importantly, how had he managed to get separated from the herd of first years that stayed so close together? He was so stupid...

The robed boy slowed his desperate run to a walk. He sniffed quietly with defeat. He felt so childish- he was eleven, for goodness sake! And a Gryffindor at that!

He thought of crying out for help, but decided to keep his mouth clamped shut. His voice probably have sounded like a frog's with all of the worrying he had been doing, and he did not feel like being coddled like every lost puppy first-year.

But what was he to do? Once again, he had found a dead-end. For a moment, he couldn't hear the eerie gale anymore, but he had felt oddly discomforted in its absence. All that he could see before him was a magnificent, rounded window that could shine without the help on the sun.

As if on cue, the wind, like a breath, had made a roaring comeback. Spiraling as it went, it had turned its whole vestibule's air as cold as a winter storm. Despite the September light, the sun itself appeared to have gone missing. Invisible clouds had blocked its path.

The pupil continued to slowly make his way to the light of the stained glass window, the reds and blues casting upon his dark skin in flowery spots. The cold poured forth from the window, and the sensation danced around the student's shoulders and feet. Whatever was radiating off of it seemed familiar, somehow...

This was no ordinary occurrence; not even when compared to a magical one.

The chill from the window's gust began to resonate throughout the area now, bouncing off of the narrow hallway around him. The student's eyes flicked up the wall to examine what was going on. Taking a in a deep breath of the crisp air, the student had approached cautiously closer to the window's wall and stood tiptoe to examine it closer... and saw nothing extraordinary.

Wondering if the colored glass was also cold from this off-color air, he carefully rose a hand to press it up against the delicate mural. His legs began to shake from standing on his toes for so long, but he ignored this as he tried to get closer. Eventually, when his fingertips were a mere hair away from the window, he saw a disjointed, translucent hand shoot from a red panel and through his own.

The first-year's hand felt like it had been jammed into a bucket of ice water, making him yelp in surprise. He watched as the foggy fingers hastily retreated back behind the wall as he fell back to the hard, stone floor of the corridor. The yell jumped off of the walls easily in the nothingness that still remained. Sharply looking left, and right, and forward at the glowing window with paranoia. His father's warnings of poltergeists and ghosts echoed in his head, but whatever he had just witnessed hadn't exactly matched what his father was talking about.

Shakily standing back up and dusting off his robe, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. There couldn't be much time left before his next class, he suddenly remembered, so he quickly pivoted to continue his blind running throughout the empty hallways.

When he had opened his eyes, there was a tall man standing before him that had not been there before. The wicked grin on his face only grew bigger as the student's bright blue eyes widened and stumbled backward. The ghostly man took a soundless step forward and rose his hands.

"Boo!" the voice of a young man shouted. The ghostly man's fingers waved like candle lights as the boy reeled back further, pressing his back against the wall with nowhere else to go. He once again wondered if he should cry out for help, but he could not muster up the smallest squeak, let alone a croak.

The snowy draft once again surrounded the boy, just like it had before. The wind was surprisingly quiet this time around, as the figure strode closer to him, his feet gliding just off of the floor. The black cloak that blanketed the student shivered against him, and were pulled closer still to the wall as the kid intellectually flinched.

"C'mon, mate!" the spirit laughed nervously, his slightly reverberant sound laced with slight regret, "I'm not going to hurt you!"

This particular ghost looked almost to lively to be dead. Though his whole body were all variations of the color silver, the splashes of crimsons and saffrons from the stained glass had brightened up portions of his body like a flashlight to the fog. His mischievous expression was almost dead now, with his gray eyebrows raised in the slightest bit of concern. He held out a hand as if he could help him, but hesitantly drew it back when his ashen eyes glinted with something like realization.

The student stopped shaking, but remained cautious when he rose to his feet. His icey gaze was thrown at the roughly-six-foot-tall spirit defensively. His umber eyes were narrowed to create a brave facade, but the sterling stranger ignored this as rose his hands as he continued.

"I just wanted a laugh- that's all."

Nodding slowly, the student pretended that he wasn't intimidated anymore. He was just a ghost! Just a ghost who as only about three heads taller than himself. He willed himself to move past him, and miraculously he felt himself shuffling forward. He felt his tan arm pass through the frosty one of the stranger, and he pretended to not shiver from the oddity of it. Slowly, he was making his way away from the gelid man, but soon heard him whisk his way back over to him.

"Sorry, forgot that Firsties were jumpy," the soul apologized again as he drifted an arm's length away from him. The "Firstie" picked up his pace once more. The click clack of his shoes once again bumping off of the hollow hallways. The light of the window no longer blotted on either figure. Though this phantom continued to lag behind the first-year like a shadow, he was ignored as the student tried to once again focus on getting back to somewhere familiar.

A bold quiet blanketed the halls again. Only mild whistling wind and the clicking of footsteps filled them now.

"So... you're a Gryffindor, eh?" the ghost commented when the boy had once again stopped for another look-around.

The living wizard nodded carelessly, not really paying close attention to him as he attempted to find a landmark of some kind.

"'Could tell because of the badge," the older voice replied, twisting around to the line of sight of the brown eyes and pointing at his chest, "It's the best House around, if you ask me."

The ashen was yet again left without a reply and the pupil began walking again in aimless directions. The chilling air of his newfound shadow lingering behind. Both faces were screwed up in their own confusion with each turn-around and back-agains.

"Are... are you lost?" the voice piped up after awhile, the sound now soft, quite the contrary to what he had originally been. He arced with a flourish over the boy's head to face him again. His glowing face now with some sort of knowing look on it.

With a defeated sigh, the pupil was ashamed to give a nod. His glance went from the wall and onto the floor.

"Well, spit it out. Where are 'ya trying to get too?"

"Th-the T-transfiguration classroom," stuttered the student in a hushed reply, keeping his head angled downward.

"You sound like you're under a Tongue-Tying curse!" the man chuckled lightly, trying to lift his spirits, "Like I already said, I'm not gonna hurt you!"

The Gryffindor bid himself to calm down; for real this time. Whoever this guy was, he probably knew his way around the school like the other ghosts, so he decided to give him his full attention.

"I'm guessing that you wound up here because of the Changing Staircases, to start things off," said the spirit.

"Y-yes, sir," replied the eleven-year-old, resisting the urge to duck his head.

"Okay, don't worry, that's completely normal," reassured the snowy figure with a shrug, "That used to happen to me a lot when I was alone in the halls,"

"Really?" sighed the wayward student in relief, "At least I'm not the only one..."

"Right," nodded the spirit with a smile, giving a silent clap, "So, right now, we're on the fifth floor, so you're very lost."

Mumbling in agreement, he let the ghost continue.

"Transfiguration room..." he hummed, hovering higher to examine their location, "Okay, so you're going to want to go back to the ground floor, for starters,"

"Okay..."

"At the end of the hallway, you should take a... left, and you should find some staircases. There should be enough to take you back down to the right floor..."

Now with some confidence, the student practically flew down the halls, his luminous companion flying easily beside him. Whenever he made a wrong turn, the wise guide would steer him right again. The way through the school was made much easier, and they had made their way to the correct hall in only ten minutes or so.

"It would be much easier if they'd just given us a map, huh?" panted the first-year, who was hunched over with his hands on his knees.

"Oh, I know it," laughed the spirit, fluidly returning to the boy's line of sight, "You've got everything you need?"

"I don't know," answered the student simply, "But I have to get going! Class starts in-"

"Six minutes, I know," he interrupted. Making sure that the first-year didn't get lost on this final stretch, he started rattling off unheard instructions. He was quite certain that he could make the rest of the way there since he recognized some of this landmarks, but pretended to listen as he examined the phantom's appearance.

He was almost like something he'd seen in a photograph. Almost.

Weird.

"You got all that, kid?" the apparition finished, making a double-check just as he zoned back in.

"Yeah, I did," reassured the younger wizard, "Thanks a ton, Mister... hey!" he stopped himself, "I never caught your name."

The young-looking soul looked at the boy thoughtfully, as if deciding if he should give a valid answer or not.

The comedic spirit decided with 'not', of course.

"Now Freddy, I don't give out my name to just anybody." the ghost laughed and pivoted to soar the opposite way of the young Gryffindor. He blew past him like a leaf in the breeze.

Once again, the kid froze, aghast at the seemingly young aide.

"H-how'd you know my name!?" demanded the first year, almost sprinting headfirst at the ghost until they were nose-to-chest.

"Ah, ah, ah!" he scolded with a grin, shaking his wispy head, "I don't give out my name to just anybody!"

He swam over the top of the boy's head and ascended into the light of the sun flooding in from stain-glass windows lining the hall. He smiled down at the Hogwarts attendee with slight sorrow.

"It was nice meeting you, Freddy," chuckled the ghost in farewell, "But time's a-wasting! You've three minutes left!"

Gritting his teeth and cursing the vagueness of the glowing man, he turned tail and hurriedly made his way to his classroom, his first class. Meanwhile, the man stayed behind, making sure that the student would make it to the right class on time. When he saw the boy disappear behind a door, and needed no more help, the ghost hovered his way back up to a higher floor.

"See you soon," he murmured. He had a laugh etched upon his face.

(3/23/13):

So, I rather liked both writing and reading through to edit this. (WHICH I HAD TO DO TWICE. I AM A GENIUS.)

But of course I have my own author's bias all about my thoughts.

So... what did you think? Leave me your thoughts in a review, please! I'd love to hear it!

(6/7/15):

Well, I think that I cleaned that up rather nicely. However, whether or not I continue this for real is up to chance. Either way, I hope that this can work as a standalone. Thanks for reading, everybody!