I stretch my hand out to place it on his shoulder, but it merely falls through. I shake my hand before his face, but he dosen't seem to acknowledge me.
"It's okay Georgie," I say. "You don't have to be sad." But he doesn't care.
I huff at his pale face, paper white without sun even though it illuminates him at this very moment.
"Ya know," I continue, "you didn't say hi to the gisnt squid for me. Why not?" No answer. "You don't have to be like this. Is it my hair?"
"He can't hear you," someone points out. I twist to see Lily leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed across the clothes in which she died.
Lily and her husband James have all but adopted me since I passed. Lily looks remarkably like Ginny, James like Harry. Well of course; they're his parents.
Why they chose to take me in, I don't know. I've asked, but the only response is, "Gratitude."