A/N: Well, I decided to write it. The first fanfic to have Peeves as
the main character. It's also got Ginny as its other main character,
and you'll see how that works out. Both of them are indeed in this
first chapter, although not in the same setting. They'll be meeting
later. Let's see, story notes. It's rated PG just to be
safe, I don't think there's anything terribly inappropriate in it, and
yes it really is humor/angst. Is that a first too? The story just sort
of came to me one evening and who am I to defy inspiration? (Even if it
does mean putting my other fic on the back burner for a little while)
I'm not sure that there are going to be a very large number of you
reading this since it's not, ya know, something that most people would
think of reading, so if you are and you want to be supportive, please
review. I'm going to write this whether I get review or not, but
getting them makes it more likely that I will update more than once a
month.
If you're reading this because like me, you're a Ginny fan, stick with
me, she is in the chapter like I said just a few pages in. Now READ
READ I TELL YE!
Disclaimer: ...Now I know you know JK Rowling owns the HP universe, and
if you think I'm her that's just silly. She wouldn't be writing this,
she needs to get busy writing the rest of the series so she can start
on the prequel with the Marauders.
Curious Coincidences and Odd Associations
By Lejindarybunny
Chapter one...Tales Begin in the Mists of Time
---------
part one
---------
The bookcase crashed to the ground with a satisfying 'thunk' spilling
books across the floor. Somewhere on the grounds Madam Pince snorted
and tossed in her sleep, preternatural library senses somehow aware of
the incident. The red-headed entity dusted his hands together in a
contented fashion and hastily made his exit, the yowl of an aged cat
his cue.
Peeves giggled darkly to himself, drifting through the midnight
environs of the corridor, the ranting and raving of Filch clearly
audible to the poltergeist. Not for kiddies, the caretaker's words,
no, no, much too harsh for innocent ears. Good thing all the little
tots were still away for the summer, wasn't it? He chuckled. Such a
delight, the angry tone, so gratifying. Momentarily at least. But
elation faded to vague amusement and finally back to tedium.
There wasn't a lot for him to do right now, not even all the teachers
were there yet. The year wouldn't start for another, what was it, day?
Two maybe? A week? He was always terrible at measuring time, and far be
it for anybody to give him the day of the week, oh no. He snorted.
Time, time, time. All he ever HAD was time! Whenever he was bored it
seemed to stretch on forever, but when he was doing something
interesting it had to vanish like a very quickly vanishing thing,
didn't it? It was so frustrating, and tonight he was even more restless
than usual.
He pouted and crossed his arms. Stupid summer holidays. Peeves bit
his lip, a human mannerism he'd picked up some when along the way. He
leaned against the wall and sunk down through the floor to the drafty,
disused premises of the lower dungeons. Bored, bored, bored, bored,
bored, bored, BORED!
The lower dungeons played homes to most of the castles ghosts and
Peeves was as welcome there as he was in any part of the castle. Which
was to say, about as welcome as grave robbers or some nasty form of
mold. But it was the only place to find anyone conscious to talk to,
or more likely at, at this time of night and this season, unless he
felt like visiting Myrtle in the girl's toilet. Which he didn't.
"Nicky," he called in what failed miserably at being a pleasant and
genial tone. "Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick, Nicky!"
The spirit of Sir Nicholas De Mimsey Porpington did not appear.
Unsurprising to say the least, as most people, living or dead, tended
to avoid him like the plague and with about the same degree of
efficiency. He was somewhat offended by the fact, at least, when he
didn't find it funny.
"Keep it down!" someone snapped, "SOME of us are BUSY, I'll have you
know!"
Peeves poked his head through the wall to see Edmund still hard at
work, sitting at his vaporous desk, scribbling on a ghostly scroll with
an equally insubstantial quill.
"Oh?" he grinned, raising an eyebrow in mock interest. "Whatcha
writing Eddy?"
The scribe grimaced. "None of your business! Now go away!" He held
his paper to him like some dear treasure.
The delinquent of a spirit took on a hurt expression. "Not that's
mean, Eddikins, I just wanted to read it. Why won't you let me?" He
grinned wickedly. "Ooooooo, I know. It's a LOVE letter ISN'T it?"
"NO!" The ghost blushed.
"It IS! I knew it! I'll go tell Lila you're writing poetry about her
again!" He turned as if to leave.
"Don't you dare Peeves! I'll, I'll, I'll get the Baron!" Edmund
glared.
He froze. "Heheh, only joking, wouldn't dream of embarrassing Eddy,
would we? Of course we wouldn't! I'll just be going now," he said
quickly, alternately nodding and shaking his head for emphasis.
"You do that," Edmund said stoically.
"Bye," Peeves waved nervously, turned around and left, going back
into the main corridor. "Stupid self-centered writer jerk. Tattletale.
'I'll tell the Baron on you'," he mocked in a high-pitched, insulted
tone and then fell to muttering. "Tell on Peeves; spoil his fun,
that's right. Nobody cares how I might feel on the issue, do they?
Nobody ever thinks about MY feelings. Hmph."
He drifted through the hallway for quite a way and up the stairs into
the main dungeon, where most of the year there would have been little
sharp-eyed students about. Not many at this hour, but still, he might
have had a bit of fun intruding on illicit couples snogging in corners.
He floated up another set of stairs and paused to pull down a
Ravenclaw tapestry for no other reason than he never much cared for
Ravenclaws. Stuffy gits.
With nothing better to do at the moment he slipped into the kitchens
which were, for a rare moment, abandoned. It must be very late/early
indeed if the little house elves weren't hard at work cooking and
telling him to get out. He drummed his fingers on a counter and rested
his chin on his other hand. This had to be, for no discernable reason,
the absolute nastiest day he'd had in a while. There was nothing to do
and no one would talk to him and there was no one to follow around and
bother and he just generally wasn't feeling his pleasantest.
Peeves looked out of the corner of his eye, his gaze coming to rest
on the handle of a pan. A sneer twisting his colorless lips he grabbed
the pan and threw it full force into a rack of dishes. The noise it
made was wonderful, just the right amount of smash and tinkle as the
delicate china was separated forcefully into a million pieces. Grinning
manically he hefted a pot up off the stove and threw it at the other
pots hanging from the ceiling. Not only did they bonk and tong together
like some blasphemous sort of wind chime but a good number of them fell
to the floor in a great cacophony of a racket.
Peeves cackled and dove around the room picking up and tossing every
object that his hands fell on. By now he heard yelling and heavy
footfalls coming towards him. He didn't care.
The door swung open. "PEEVES!!" Filch shouted.
The poltergeist turned around and blew a raspberry at him.
The caretaker did something that Peeves had never seen him do before.
He whipped out a wand, pointed it, and yelled in a very gravelly voice,
"EXISPECTRE!!"
There was a bang and a flash of sickly pink light and-
***
Peeves was lying on his back with his eyes closed. He realized he
must have been knocked unconscious. It had happened once before during
the middle ages when a particularly irate seventh year Slytherin had
hexed him. That time was different than this in one rather large
respect, that time he'd woken up with no ill effects whatsoever, just a
little bit of missing time and a grudge. Now however there was a very
unpleasant sensation running all through him, especially in the area of
his head. If he didn't know better he would have said it was pain.
But that was silly. He couldn't feel pain, after all.
He didn't feel up to opening his eyes at the moment, but he realized
he heard voices, Filch and old Al Dumbledore.
"I didn't mean to, Dumbledore, sir," Filch was saying, in an
incredibly humble and penitent tone. "He was wrecking the kitchens
again and since I'd been studying, and all, I thought I could give him
what for, if you take my meaning. I was only trying to hex him, you
understand, not..."
Talking about him were they, hmmmm? He'd listen a bit longer.
"Yes, yes Argus, I understand your feelings," the Headmaster
answered. "You had every right to be upset but that does not change the
fact that whatever your intentions were the outcome has been both
unexpected and quite serious."
"I know sir, but isn't there some way to, to well..."
"Change him back?" He paused and said very gravely. "I do not know.
On top of that- Argus, what you have done is a very complex, and
profound piece of magic. Most respectable wizards would tell you what
you did was completely impossible, even theoretically."
Oh no, what had Filch done to him? Now that they mentioned it, he did
feel very strange, and not just the unpleasantness. He felt very heavy
and there was a very odd pulsing sensation he felt. Peeves came to the
conclusion that what he needed to do first was open his eyes.
"Besides," Albus continued, "have you considered that he may not want
the transformation undone?"
What WERE they talking about? He had to know! He forced his eyes open
and found that he was lying on a cot in the hospital wing with the
curtain drawn around him. He could see the shapes of old Alby and Filch
standing just outside.
Uncomfortably he raised a hand to pull away the curtain and stopped.
He stared, his gaze panning slowly from the tips of his fingers, to his
knuckles, to his hand, wrist, and arm. The amazing thing was that he
was actually looking AT his arm, and not through it. It was pale,
almost white, with dots of orange freckles here and there. At first it
didn't quite register to Peeves that this was his own arm. He wiggled
his fingers, just to be sure.
"Yeeeeaaaaaah!" he wailed, terrified, "Look what you've done to my
beautiful wickedness!!" He drew his arms close around himself
protectively.
Dumbledore gently pulled open the curtain and looked down at him,
eyes concerned behind half-moon spectacles. Filch was lingering in the
background looking very, very awkward.
"Peeves," the Headmaster said cautiously.
The ex-poltergeist continued to wail both incoherently and very
loudly.
"Peeves!" Dumbledore said much more firmly in a tone that brooked no
argument.
The figure immediately stopped howling and looked darkly up at the
old man. Peeves was trembling violently. "Whasee done to me? Wha's
Filchy done this time?" he demanded.
Dumbledore sat down on the edge of the bed. He fixed the cowering
form with a very serious, but very kindly gaze. "I think you already
know the answer to that."
Peeves looked up at him. Then he looked at Filch, who looked away.
Then he closed his eyes. "Turned me into a human, didninee?"
"Yes, that is what happened," he agreed.
Someone hurried into the room. "What happened; who's hurt?" It was
Madam Pomfrey and she sounded very upset and worried. "I heard someone
yelling. Who is that?"
"Please calm yourself Poppy. There has been a small accident,"
Dumbledore told her. "I will gladly explain, but I would be most
grateful if you would care to fetch us all something to eat, and
perhaps to drink as well, beforehand."
"Of course Albus," she agreed and bustled out of the room.
Filch had started pacing the room anxiously.
"Sit down Argus," the Headmaster instructed, "It is not the end of
the world."
"Yes it is!" Peeves disagreed.
"No, it is not," Dumbledore said, giving him a look. "And I don't
believe that you will think so either after you become accustomed to
the idea."
He turned over on his side. "Hmph, bet he did it on purpose.
Everybody knows he hates me. Wants to get rid of me he does."
"Now, now-"
Madam Pomfrey reentered the room carrying a tray with four mugs of
hot chocolate and pastries. "Here we are, Albus," she said, setting the
tray down. "Now, who is this young man? I didn't know there were any
students arriving early this ear. I've never seen him before, is he a
new student?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes." The Headmaster picked up one of the
mugs and handed it to Peeves.
"Well, what happened? He looks alright to me," the nurse said,
looking him over with a keen eye.
"Less than an hour ago," Dumbledore said, "Argus here heard quite a
commotion. Going to investigate he found Peeves making something of a
mess of the kitchens. Master Filch then attempted a hex to deter him.
This however, did not work as planned..."
Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Headmaster, surely you don't mean to tell me
that..."
Dumbledore smiled. "Poppy, may I introduce you to Peeves the
poltergeist."
The red-head wasn't really paying attention; he was still busy trying
to figure out what Dumbledore wanted him to do with the cocoa.
"But, how?" Pomfrey asked, sitting down.
"I am not certain. Nor am I certain of the permanence of the
transformation. It is entirely possible that the spell may wear off
after some time." Dumbledore took a drink of his own hot chocolate and
then turned to Peeves. "I suggest you drink that some time soon. It's
not quite as pleasant after it gets cold."
Drink it? he furrowed his brow. He'd seen people eat and drink before
but he had of course, never been able to do it. Wouldn't the ghosts be
jealous if he could! Gingerly he brought the cup to his lips and tipped
the liquid into his mouth.
The sensation was unbelievable. He could actually TASTE it, warm and
rich and smooth. Greedily he filled his mouth with it.
Dumbledore smiled. "I think you'd best swallow before long."
Swallow? Oh of course, swallow. Otherwise he'd choke, wouldn't he? He
swallowed, finding the sensation of the liquid draining down his body
odd but not unpleasant, and drank some more. Peeves was sure that
drinking hot chocolate was the reason people seemed to enjoy being
alive so much.
"What are you going to do with him in the meantime then, Albus?"
Poppy asked curiously, still watching the former spirit.
Dumbledore too now looked him over with a wide smile. "Oh, I don't
know, I'd say he looks about a fourth year, wouldn't you Argus?"
"Er, what, sir? You don't mean you're going to put him with the
students do you? Why, I have enough trouble already with those
Weasleys, I shudder to think-"
"It seems to me," Dumbledore said, "rather than a bad influence on
the students, they might be just as much of a good influence on him,
mightn't they?"
"...I suppose," Filch muttered, not really convinced.
Peeves smirked and stuck his tongue out at the defeated caretaker.
Then he looked disappointedly down at the mug to realize that all the
chocolate was gone. He pursed his lips crossly and was about to say
something.
"Why don't you try a pastry," Dumbledore suggested, handing him one.
He took it with out the hesitation of before and bit into it. Yes,
eating was good too. "S'not bad," he said.
"I thought you'd like it," the Headmaster agreed. "You're welcome."
Peeves completely missed his cue to say 'thank you'.
"If you're not too busy tomorrow Poppy I would like for you to take
him to Diagon Alley to get his school things."
She hesitated. "Ah, of course Albus, but, what will you do if the
change was permanent? I mean he doesn't have any where to go or well..."
Dumbledore gave her a confident smile. "I have a feeling things will
work themselves out. But," he turned to Peeves, "While I am going to
inform the staff of this situation it might be a good idea if you
thought of something to call yourself, at least for a while. The truth
of the matter might serve only to alienate others."
"I'll think on it," he answered through his last mouthful of pastry.
Now," the Headmaster stood up. "I suggest we all get some rest
before tomorrow sneaks up on the lot of us."
---------
part two
---------
Ginny stared out the window at the pouring rain. School started in
just two days and, while she was happy to be starting her fourth year
at Hogwarts she definitely had a bit of end of summer melancholy. She'd
be seeing all her school friends, yes, but she didn't have very many.
Her entire first year had been ruined by the whole stupid diary
incident and people were right when they said first impressions lasted.
As if she didn't feel bad enough about the experience people had never
gotten over seeing her as weird and withdrawn if not downright
antisocial. It wasn't that they were unfriendly exactly, Gryffindors
almost never were, but they seemed hesitant to get as close to her as
they might.
Well, Colin Creevy seemed to like her well enough, but she wasn't
all that fond of him. He just wasn't well, the sharpest cookie. And
anyway, all he ever wanted to talk about was Harry, who despite being
her brother's best friend, never seemed to want to talk to her.
That thought made her even more distressed. He'd been living with
them in Ron's room practically all summer and he'd still barely said
five words to her. She was beginning to think that maybe he really was
a jerk. After all, those magazine articles couldn't have been
completely made up, could they?
Ginny sighed. Thinking about Harry always made her alternately want
to blush and swoon or scream and throw pillows. Not that she would,
she was too old for temper tantrums, and she'd never been very good at
them when she was younger anyway. She'd always somehow just ended up in
tears.
She needed something else to think about before she did end up in
tears. School was of course the main topic of the day, the week really.
Fred and George would be in there last year. Next year it would be just
her and Ron. She wondered who the new Defense against the Dark Arts
teacher would be. She thought it was kind of funny the way they never
had one for more than a year, even though it was always a bad thing
when they left. She wished Professor Lupin could have stayed, but no,
grouchy old Snape had to go and tell everybody he was a werewolf. She
thought she remembered one of the twins telling her they heard it would
be a girl this year but they were too busy with that money Harry had
given them to talk to her much.
And Percy was as busy as her father at the ministry now, and Ron was
always busy with Harry, so busy Ginny almost half-believed the jokes
that Fred and George made all the time. Sometimes Ginny felt like she
got lost among her brothers and she was past the age where her parents
paid more attention to her just because she was the youngest. True, her
mum had said she could invite someone over for the summer if she wanted,
but she hadn't been able to think of anyone she wanted to see that
badly and for that long.
She sighed and closed her curtains; the rain wasn't doing anything to
improve her mood. Sometimes she wished she didn't have Charlie's old
room all too herself. It was funny how lonely one could get with such a
big family.
She stood up, only to sit down again, this time at her little desk
and took out a sheet of parchment and a quill. She'd finished all her
over the holidays work, she didn't leave it to last minute like Fred
and George, but that didn't mean she didn't have anything to write.
While she hadn't actually kept a diary for years (bad memories) she
couldn't help writing stray thoughts on bits of parchment. She kept
those all dated and in a drawer and she thought maybe one day she'd bind
them all together and make a book out of them.
Ginny ran her fingers anxiously through her goldish orange hair. It
was long now; she hadn't cut it in a while, halfway down her back. She
liked to have her mother braid it for her, or, more often now days
she'd do it herself. Right now however it was hanging loose over her
shoulders and falling in her face over her brown eyes. She'd thought
about using magic to change the color, just to make her stand out from
the rest of her family but not only would she probably get one of those
stupid 'underage magic' letters but her mum would scold her and just
turn it back.
She dipped her quill in the bottle of purple ink she'd bought by
saving up the little bit of pocket money and started writing.
September 5
I never thought I'd be so happy to be going back to school. It's
maddening around here, with Ron and Harry holed up in their room and
Fred and George holed up in theirs and Percy at the ministry with Dad,
pretending that the whole world hangs in the balance every time he
files some stupid bit of paperwork. Mum's practically been having a
continuous panic attack since the beginning of summer. I can understand
because they're saying that you-know-who is back.
That scares me too. What if he comes back and tries to use me again?
I know Dumbledore said the connection was broken but what if he was
wrong?
What If I'm a tainted flower
With stained petals
No one will pick
I talked to Dad about it this morning, he told me not to worry about
it too much but he seemed pretty worried. Then Percy walked in and said
'of course I didn't need to be worried; nothing was going to happen to
us'. He was LISTENING in on my conversation with Dad! Sometimes I don't
know about Percy, he's been acting really funny for the last year or so.
Sometimes I think he doesn't believe YKW is back, and sometimes I think
he just might not care. I know it's a horrible thing to think but...
Mum's taking us all (Me, Ron, Harry, F+G) to Diagon Alley tomorrow to
get new (well, you know what I mean) school things. I have a little bit
of the money I've been saving. I think it's enough to but one of those
cute imported muggle shirts from Felicia's Fabulous Fashions. They
don't cost too much because they're made from such cheap fabric.
(And so little of it too. I'd have to hide it from mum.)
I heard the pantry open last night and I went down to look but nobody
was there. I think Fred and George might be experimenting with
invisibility or something. Don't know why they'd want to though, it
feels like I'm invisible every day and it isn't much fun.
I was looking at my divinations book earlier (I decided to take it
this year just because Ron said he hated it. I can always drop it)
We're going to be using Tarot cards and it says we'll get the best
results if we have our own deck. Maybe I ought to buy one instead of
the shirt since mum'll only take that away if she finds it. But then
again if I don't like Divinations it'll just be a waste of money. Ron
always says he hates being poor but that's just because he always buys
the first thing he looks at instead of thinking about what he wants
more. If he didn't complain about it all the time maybe the Slytherins
wouldn't harass him about it so much. Talk about opening yourself up to
mockery. I think Ron just likes to complain about things. At least
Harry actually talks to him.
He's not even that cute anyway (Harry, not Ron, I don't mean Ron's
cute either, but oh never mind) I don't know why I like him so much
anyway, just because he's so heroic I guess. I don't know. Can you like
someone for no good reason? Must be, because I can't think of any
terribly good reasons.
It's pouring out; it'll be all mushy outside tomorrow. Oops, I mean
today. I just checked the clock and its a few minutes past midnight.
Mum'd probably hang me if she bothered to check if I was up or not.
She never does though. And anyway, I'm almost fourteen aren't I? They
ought to let me stay up a little bit. I'm not the least bit tired.
Maybe it's because I haven't really done anything all day, and I got
up late. I watched the boys play two on two Quidditch for a little
while, and Fred let me sub for him for a few minutes, but I'm not very
good at it anyway. It's okay to watch though, if I don't have anything
better to do. Colin said he was going to try out for the team this
year. I wonder if he'll make it. I wonder if he'll even remember to try
out. He might have gotten on to a different kick by now. No, scratch
that, he'll remember because Harry's on the team. Come to think of it,
Ron wants to try out too, for keeper.
No one else agrees
But I think Quidditch's boring
I'd rather not play
That's a haiku, a kind of Japanese poetry. Percy talked about them a
few days ago at dinner, but he was mostly talking about this one
Japanese wizard he admires who writes them all the time. Percy was
saying something about how hard the Japanese work all the time. I read
in Teen Witch magazine that young Japanese witches kill themselves if
they don't get all hundreds in their classes. That's a bit obsessive if
you ask me. I can picture Percy doing it though, if he'd ever failed
anything in school. Maybe Hermione too.
Speaking of school, I can't believe I made it all the way to fourth
year. I don't mean that I thought I was going to flunk out or anything,
but it's so weird, like just yesterday I was only in first year. And
that' not a very happy thought. It almost feels like my life is
slipping away from me like sand and the days just blur together. It's
been like that for a while. Sometimes I think that maybe I was supposed
to die that night in The Chamber and my life feels empty because I'm
just living on borrowed time. I wonder if destiny can be cheated like
that. If anyone could do it, it would be Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry, I
try but I can't stop myself from thinking about him all the time.
It's almost like life revolves around him. Not just my life, but
everybody's life, that we're all defined by how we know Harry. Is it
always that way with powerful wizards? Maybe Dumbledore's classmates
felt that way too. Harry and Dumbledore seem a lot alike to me, I
wonder if anybody else notices. Like Dumbledore's a really, really old
Harry. Maybe he is an older Harry. Maybe sometime in the future Harry
travels back in time to whenever Dumbledore was born and stayed there.
Maybe that's how Dumbledore seems to know everything. Impossible most
likely, but it'd be funny if it was true. I wonder what it would be
like, meeting your younger self and pretending to be somebody else.
I know if I could go back and meet my younger self I'd have some
advice to give her. Hello, Ginny, this is Ginny. Don't be an idiot.
Maybe I should take my own advice.
Maybe I ought to go to bed. Mum will get me up early to go to Diagon
Alley anyway, and if I'm all tired she'll suspect something. Or make me
take some nasty potion. Or both. Well, here are a couple more pages for
the drawer of paper.
Ginny
Ginny yawned and wiggled her fingers to un-cramp them. She put the
cap back on her ink bottle and shoved it, the quill and the paper in
her desk drawer. Quietly she pushed in her chair, turned around and sat
down on her bed.
She pulled down her covers and already in her pajamas, slid under
them. She reached up and blew out the candles that lit her room,
sending it into darkness. She yawned again and closed her eyes. Would
anything interesting happen this year? Well, the answer to that was
obvious. The better question was 'would anything interesting happen to
HER?' Another good one was did she really want it to. After all, the
last time something interesting had happened that involved her she'd
nearly died. At this point though she almost wished that ANYTHING at
all would happen to her just to stop the monotony of being the
invisible youngest Weasley.
To be continued...
Wow, you read the entire chapter, I'm impressed. (It was very long,
wasn't it?) Next chapter, both Ginny and Peeves go to Diagon Alley.
Will they meet? What do you think? Input, constructive criticism,
ideas, praise, anything you want to say is welcome. Not flames though,
flames make me sad.
Read it? Review it!
the main character. It's also got Ginny as its other main character,
and you'll see how that works out. Both of them are indeed in this
first chapter, although not in the same setting. They'll be meeting
later. Let's see, story notes. It's rated PG just to be
safe, I don't think there's anything terribly inappropriate in it, and
yes it really is humor/angst. Is that a first too? The story just sort
of came to me one evening and who am I to defy inspiration? (Even if it
does mean putting my other fic on the back burner for a little while)
I'm not sure that there are going to be a very large number of you
reading this since it's not, ya know, something that most people would
think of reading, so if you are and you want to be supportive, please
review. I'm going to write this whether I get review or not, but
getting them makes it more likely that I will update more than once a
month.
If you're reading this because like me, you're a Ginny fan, stick with
me, she is in the chapter like I said just a few pages in. Now READ
READ I TELL YE!
Disclaimer: ...Now I know you know JK Rowling owns the HP universe, and
if you think I'm her that's just silly. She wouldn't be writing this,
she needs to get busy writing the rest of the series so she can start
on the prequel with the Marauders.
Curious Coincidences and Odd Associations
By Lejindarybunny
Chapter one...Tales Begin in the Mists of Time
---------
part one
---------
The bookcase crashed to the ground with a satisfying 'thunk' spilling
books across the floor. Somewhere on the grounds Madam Pince snorted
and tossed in her sleep, preternatural library senses somehow aware of
the incident. The red-headed entity dusted his hands together in a
contented fashion and hastily made his exit, the yowl of an aged cat
his cue.
Peeves giggled darkly to himself, drifting through the midnight
environs of the corridor, the ranting and raving of Filch clearly
audible to the poltergeist. Not for kiddies, the caretaker's words,
no, no, much too harsh for innocent ears. Good thing all the little
tots were still away for the summer, wasn't it? He chuckled. Such a
delight, the angry tone, so gratifying. Momentarily at least. But
elation faded to vague amusement and finally back to tedium.
There wasn't a lot for him to do right now, not even all the teachers
were there yet. The year wouldn't start for another, what was it, day?
Two maybe? A week? He was always terrible at measuring time, and far be
it for anybody to give him the day of the week, oh no. He snorted.
Time, time, time. All he ever HAD was time! Whenever he was bored it
seemed to stretch on forever, but when he was doing something
interesting it had to vanish like a very quickly vanishing thing,
didn't it? It was so frustrating, and tonight he was even more restless
than usual.
He pouted and crossed his arms. Stupid summer holidays. Peeves bit
his lip, a human mannerism he'd picked up some when along the way. He
leaned against the wall and sunk down through the floor to the drafty,
disused premises of the lower dungeons. Bored, bored, bored, bored,
bored, bored, BORED!
The lower dungeons played homes to most of the castles ghosts and
Peeves was as welcome there as he was in any part of the castle. Which
was to say, about as welcome as grave robbers or some nasty form of
mold. But it was the only place to find anyone conscious to talk to,
or more likely at, at this time of night and this season, unless he
felt like visiting Myrtle in the girl's toilet. Which he didn't.
"Nicky," he called in what failed miserably at being a pleasant and
genial tone. "Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick, Nicky!"
The spirit of Sir Nicholas De Mimsey Porpington did not appear.
Unsurprising to say the least, as most people, living or dead, tended
to avoid him like the plague and with about the same degree of
efficiency. He was somewhat offended by the fact, at least, when he
didn't find it funny.
"Keep it down!" someone snapped, "SOME of us are BUSY, I'll have you
know!"
Peeves poked his head through the wall to see Edmund still hard at
work, sitting at his vaporous desk, scribbling on a ghostly scroll with
an equally insubstantial quill.
"Oh?" he grinned, raising an eyebrow in mock interest. "Whatcha
writing Eddy?"
The scribe grimaced. "None of your business! Now go away!" He held
his paper to him like some dear treasure.
The delinquent of a spirit took on a hurt expression. "Not that's
mean, Eddikins, I just wanted to read it. Why won't you let me?" He
grinned wickedly. "Ooooooo, I know. It's a LOVE letter ISN'T it?"
"NO!" The ghost blushed.
"It IS! I knew it! I'll go tell Lila you're writing poetry about her
again!" He turned as if to leave.
"Don't you dare Peeves! I'll, I'll, I'll get the Baron!" Edmund
glared.
He froze. "Heheh, only joking, wouldn't dream of embarrassing Eddy,
would we? Of course we wouldn't! I'll just be going now," he said
quickly, alternately nodding and shaking his head for emphasis.
"You do that," Edmund said stoically.
"Bye," Peeves waved nervously, turned around and left, going back
into the main corridor. "Stupid self-centered writer jerk. Tattletale.
'I'll tell the Baron on you'," he mocked in a high-pitched, insulted
tone and then fell to muttering. "Tell on Peeves; spoil his fun,
that's right. Nobody cares how I might feel on the issue, do they?
Nobody ever thinks about MY feelings. Hmph."
He drifted through the hallway for quite a way and up the stairs into
the main dungeon, where most of the year there would have been little
sharp-eyed students about. Not many at this hour, but still, he might
have had a bit of fun intruding on illicit couples snogging in corners.
He floated up another set of stairs and paused to pull down a
Ravenclaw tapestry for no other reason than he never much cared for
Ravenclaws. Stuffy gits.
With nothing better to do at the moment he slipped into the kitchens
which were, for a rare moment, abandoned. It must be very late/early
indeed if the little house elves weren't hard at work cooking and
telling him to get out. He drummed his fingers on a counter and rested
his chin on his other hand. This had to be, for no discernable reason,
the absolute nastiest day he'd had in a while. There was nothing to do
and no one would talk to him and there was no one to follow around and
bother and he just generally wasn't feeling his pleasantest.
Peeves looked out of the corner of his eye, his gaze coming to rest
on the handle of a pan. A sneer twisting his colorless lips he grabbed
the pan and threw it full force into a rack of dishes. The noise it
made was wonderful, just the right amount of smash and tinkle as the
delicate china was separated forcefully into a million pieces. Grinning
manically he hefted a pot up off the stove and threw it at the other
pots hanging from the ceiling. Not only did they bonk and tong together
like some blasphemous sort of wind chime but a good number of them fell
to the floor in a great cacophony of a racket.
Peeves cackled and dove around the room picking up and tossing every
object that his hands fell on. By now he heard yelling and heavy
footfalls coming towards him. He didn't care.
The door swung open. "PEEVES!!" Filch shouted.
The poltergeist turned around and blew a raspberry at him.
The caretaker did something that Peeves had never seen him do before.
He whipped out a wand, pointed it, and yelled in a very gravelly voice,
"EXISPECTRE!!"
There was a bang and a flash of sickly pink light and-
***
Peeves was lying on his back with his eyes closed. He realized he
must have been knocked unconscious. It had happened once before during
the middle ages when a particularly irate seventh year Slytherin had
hexed him. That time was different than this in one rather large
respect, that time he'd woken up with no ill effects whatsoever, just a
little bit of missing time and a grudge. Now however there was a very
unpleasant sensation running all through him, especially in the area of
his head. If he didn't know better he would have said it was pain.
But that was silly. He couldn't feel pain, after all.
He didn't feel up to opening his eyes at the moment, but he realized
he heard voices, Filch and old Al Dumbledore.
"I didn't mean to, Dumbledore, sir," Filch was saying, in an
incredibly humble and penitent tone. "He was wrecking the kitchens
again and since I'd been studying, and all, I thought I could give him
what for, if you take my meaning. I was only trying to hex him, you
understand, not..."
Talking about him were they, hmmmm? He'd listen a bit longer.
"Yes, yes Argus, I understand your feelings," the Headmaster
answered. "You had every right to be upset but that does not change the
fact that whatever your intentions were the outcome has been both
unexpected and quite serious."
"I know sir, but isn't there some way to, to well..."
"Change him back?" He paused and said very gravely. "I do not know.
On top of that- Argus, what you have done is a very complex, and
profound piece of magic. Most respectable wizards would tell you what
you did was completely impossible, even theoretically."
Oh no, what had Filch done to him? Now that they mentioned it, he did
feel very strange, and not just the unpleasantness. He felt very heavy
and there was a very odd pulsing sensation he felt. Peeves came to the
conclusion that what he needed to do first was open his eyes.
"Besides," Albus continued, "have you considered that he may not want
the transformation undone?"
What WERE they talking about? He had to know! He forced his eyes open
and found that he was lying on a cot in the hospital wing with the
curtain drawn around him. He could see the shapes of old Alby and Filch
standing just outside.
Uncomfortably he raised a hand to pull away the curtain and stopped.
He stared, his gaze panning slowly from the tips of his fingers, to his
knuckles, to his hand, wrist, and arm. The amazing thing was that he
was actually looking AT his arm, and not through it. It was pale,
almost white, with dots of orange freckles here and there. At first it
didn't quite register to Peeves that this was his own arm. He wiggled
his fingers, just to be sure.
"Yeeeeaaaaaah!" he wailed, terrified, "Look what you've done to my
beautiful wickedness!!" He drew his arms close around himself
protectively.
Dumbledore gently pulled open the curtain and looked down at him,
eyes concerned behind half-moon spectacles. Filch was lingering in the
background looking very, very awkward.
"Peeves," the Headmaster said cautiously.
The ex-poltergeist continued to wail both incoherently and very
loudly.
"Peeves!" Dumbledore said much more firmly in a tone that brooked no
argument.
The figure immediately stopped howling and looked darkly up at the
old man. Peeves was trembling violently. "Whasee done to me? Wha's
Filchy done this time?" he demanded.
Dumbledore sat down on the edge of the bed. He fixed the cowering
form with a very serious, but very kindly gaze. "I think you already
know the answer to that."
Peeves looked up at him. Then he looked at Filch, who looked away.
Then he closed his eyes. "Turned me into a human, didninee?"
"Yes, that is what happened," he agreed.
Someone hurried into the room. "What happened; who's hurt?" It was
Madam Pomfrey and she sounded very upset and worried. "I heard someone
yelling. Who is that?"
"Please calm yourself Poppy. There has been a small accident,"
Dumbledore told her. "I will gladly explain, but I would be most
grateful if you would care to fetch us all something to eat, and
perhaps to drink as well, beforehand."
"Of course Albus," she agreed and bustled out of the room.
Filch had started pacing the room anxiously.
"Sit down Argus," the Headmaster instructed, "It is not the end of
the world."
"Yes it is!" Peeves disagreed.
"No, it is not," Dumbledore said, giving him a look. "And I don't
believe that you will think so either after you become accustomed to
the idea."
He turned over on his side. "Hmph, bet he did it on purpose.
Everybody knows he hates me. Wants to get rid of me he does."
"Now, now-"
Madam Pomfrey reentered the room carrying a tray with four mugs of
hot chocolate and pastries. "Here we are, Albus," she said, setting the
tray down. "Now, who is this young man? I didn't know there were any
students arriving early this ear. I've never seen him before, is he a
new student?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes." The Headmaster picked up one of the
mugs and handed it to Peeves.
"Well, what happened? He looks alright to me," the nurse said,
looking him over with a keen eye.
"Less than an hour ago," Dumbledore said, "Argus here heard quite a
commotion. Going to investigate he found Peeves making something of a
mess of the kitchens. Master Filch then attempted a hex to deter him.
This however, did not work as planned..."
Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Headmaster, surely you don't mean to tell me
that..."
Dumbledore smiled. "Poppy, may I introduce you to Peeves the
poltergeist."
The red-head wasn't really paying attention; he was still busy trying
to figure out what Dumbledore wanted him to do with the cocoa.
"But, how?" Pomfrey asked, sitting down.
"I am not certain. Nor am I certain of the permanence of the
transformation. It is entirely possible that the spell may wear off
after some time." Dumbledore took a drink of his own hot chocolate and
then turned to Peeves. "I suggest you drink that some time soon. It's
not quite as pleasant after it gets cold."
Drink it? he furrowed his brow. He'd seen people eat and drink before
but he had of course, never been able to do it. Wouldn't the ghosts be
jealous if he could! Gingerly he brought the cup to his lips and tipped
the liquid into his mouth.
The sensation was unbelievable. He could actually TASTE it, warm and
rich and smooth. Greedily he filled his mouth with it.
Dumbledore smiled. "I think you'd best swallow before long."
Swallow? Oh of course, swallow. Otherwise he'd choke, wouldn't he? He
swallowed, finding the sensation of the liquid draining down his body
odd but not unpleasant, and drank some more. Peeves was sure that
drinking hot chocolate was the reason people seemed to enjoy being
alive so much.
"What are you going to do with him in the meantime then, Albus?"
Poppy asked curiously, still watching the former spirit.
Dumbledore too now looked him over with a wide smile. "Oh, I don't
know, I'd say he looks about a fourth year, wouldn't you Argus?"
"Er, what, sir? You don't mean you're going to put him with the
students do you? Why, I have enough trouble already with those
Weasleys, I shudder to think-"
"It seems to me," Dumbledore said, "rather than a bad influence on
the students, they might be just as much of a good influence on him,
mightn't they?"
"...I suppose," Filch muttered, not really convinced.
Peeves smirked and stuck his tongue out at the defeated caretaker.
Then he looked disappointedly down at the mug to realize that all the
chocolate was gone. He pursed his lips crossly and was about to say
something.
"Why don't you try a pastry," Dumbledore suggested, handing him one.
He took it with out the hesitation of before and bit into it. Yes,
eating was good too. "S'not bad," he said.
"I thought you'd like it," the Headmaster agreed. "You're welcome."
Peeves completely missed his cue to say 'thank you'.
"If you're not too busy tomorrow Poppy I would like for you to take
him to Diagon Alley to get his school things."
She hesitated. "Ah, of course Albus, but, what will you do if the
change was permanent? I mean he doesn't have any where to go or well..."
Dumbledore gave her a confident smile. "I have a feeling things will
work themselves out. But," he turned to Peeves, "While I am going to
inform the staff of this situation it might be a good idea if you
thought of something to call yourself, at least for a while. The truth
of the matter might serve only to alienate others."
"I'll think on it," he answered through his last mouthful of pastry.
Now," the Headmaster stood up. "I suggest we all get some rest
before tomorrow sneaks up on the lot of us."
---------
part two
---------
Ginny stared out the window at the pouring rain. School started in
just two days and, while she was happy to be starting her fourth year
at Hogwarts she definitely had a bit of end of summer melancholy. She'd
be seeing all her school friends, yes, but she didn't have very many.
Her entire first year had been ruined by the whole stupid diary
incident and people were right when they said first impressions lasted.
As if she didn't feel bad enough about the experience people had never
gotten over seeing her as weird and withdrawn if not downright
antisocial. It wasn't that they were unfriendly exactly, Gryffindors
almost never were, but they seemed hesitant to get as close to her as
they might.
Well, Colin Creevy seemed to like her well enough, but she wasn't
all that fond of him. He just wasn't well, the sharpest cookie. And
anyway, all he ever wanted to talk about was Harry, who despite being
her brother's best friend, never seemed to want to talk to her.
That thought made her even more distressed. He'd been living with
them in Ron's room practically all summer and he'd still barely said
five words to her. She was beginning to think that maybe he really was
a jerk. After all, those magazine articles couldn't have been
completely made up, could they?
Ginny sighed. Thinking about Harry always made her alternately want
to blush and swoon or scream and throw pillows. Not that she would,
she was too old for temper tantrums, and she'd never been very good at
them when she was younger anyway. She'd always somehow just ended up in
tears.
She needed something else to think about before she did end up in
tears. School was of course the main topic of the day, the week really.
Fred and George would be in there last year. Next year it would be just
her and Ron. She wondered who the new Defense against the Dark Arts
teacher would be. She thought it was kind of funny the way they never
had one for more than a year, even though it was always a bad thing
when they left. She wished Professor Lupin could have stayed, but no,
grouchy old Snape had to go and tell everybody he was a werewolf. She
thought she remembered one of the twins telling her they heard it would
be a girl this year but they were too busy with that money Harry had
given them to talk to her much.
And Percy was as busy as her father at the ministry now, and Ron was
always busy with Harry, so busy Ginny almost half-believed the jokes
that Fred and George made all the time. Sometimes Ginny felt like she
got lost among her brothers and she was past the age where her parents
paid more attention to her just because she was the youngest. True, her
mum had said she could invite someone over for the summer if she wanted,
but she hadn't been able to think of anyone she wanted to see that
badly and for that long.
She sighed and closed her curtains; the rain wasn't doing anything to
improve her mood. Sometimes she wished she didn't have Charlie's old
room all too herself. It was funny how lonely one could get with such a
big family.
She stood up, only to sit down again, this time at her little desk
and took out a sheet of parchment and a quill. She'd finished all her
over the holidays work, she didn't leave it to last minute like Fred
and George, but that didn't mean she didn't have anything to write.
While she hadn't actually kept a diary for years (bad memories) she
couldn't help writing stray thoughts on bits of parchment. She kept
those all dated and in a drawer and she thought maybe one day she'd bind
them all together and make a book out of them.
Ginny ran her fingers anxiously through her goldish orange hair. It
was long now; she hadn't cut it in a while, halfway down her back. She
liked to have her mother braid it for her, or, more often now days
she'd do it herself. Right now however it was hanging loose over her
shoulders and falling in her face over her brown eyes. She'd thought
about using magic to change the color, just to make her stand out from
the rest of her family but not only would she probably get one of those
stupid 'underage magic' letters but her mum would scold her and just
turn it back.
She dipped her quill in the bottle of purple ink she'd bought by
saving up the little bit of pocket money and started writing.
September 5
I never thought I'd be so happy to be going back to school. It's
maddening around here, with Ron and Harry holed up in their room and
Fred and George holed up in theirs and Percy at the ministry with Dad,
pretending that the whole world hangs in the balance every time he
files some stupid bit of paperwork. Mum's practically been having a
continuous panic attack since the beginning of summer. I can understand
because they're saying that you-know-who is back.
That scares me too. What if he comes back and tries to use me again?
I know Dumbledore said the connection was broken but what if he was
wrong?
What If I'm a tainted flower
With stained petals
No one will pick
I talked to Dad about it this morning, he told me not to worry about
it too much but he seemed pretty worried. Then Percy walked in and said
'of course I didn't need to be worried; nothing was going to happen to
us'. He was LISTENING in on my conversation with Dad! Sometimes I don't
know about Percy, he's been acting really funny for the last year or so.
Sometimes I think he doesn't believe YKW is back, and sometimes I think
he just might not care. I know it's a horrible thing to think but...
Mum's taking us all (Me, Ron, Harry, F+G) to Diagon Alley tomorrow to
get new (well, you know what I mean) school things. I have a little bit
of the money I've been saving. I think it's enough to but one of those
cute imported muggle shirts from Felicia's Fabulous Fashions. They
don't cost too much because they're made from such cheap fabric.
(And so little of it too. I'd have to hide it from mum.)
I heard the pantry open last night and I went down to look but nobody
was there. I think Fred and George might be experimenting with
invisibility or something. Don't know why they'd want to though, it
feels like I'm invisible every day and it isn't much fun.
I was looking at my divinations book earlier (I decided to take it
this year just because Ron said he hated it. I can always drop it)
We're going to be using Tarot cards and it says we'll get the best
results if we have our own deck. Maybe I ought to buy one instead of
the shirt since mum'll only take that away if she finds it. But then
again if I don't like Divinations it'll just be a waste of money. Ron
always says he hates being poor but that's just because he always buys
the first thing he looks at instead of thinking about what he wants
more. If he didn't complain about it all the time maybe the Slytherins
wouldn't harass him about it so much. Talk about opening yourself up to
mockery. I think Ron just likes to complain about things. At least
Harry actually talks to him.
He's not even that cute anyway (Harry, not Ron, I don't mean Ron's
cute either, but oh never mind) I don't know why I like him so much
anyway, just because he's so heroic I guess. I don't know. Can you like
someone for no good reason? Must be, because I can't think of any
terribly good reasons.
It's pouring out; it'll be all mushy outside tomorrow. Oops, I mean
today. I just checked the clock and its a few minutes past midnight.
Mum'd probably hang me if she bothered to check if I was up or not.
She never does though. And anyway, I'm almost fourteen aren't I? They
ought to let me stay up a little bit. I'm not the least bit tired.
Maybe it's because I haven't really done anything all day, and I got
up late. I watched the boys play two on two Quidditch for a little
while, and Fred let me sub for him for a few minutes, but I'm not very
good at it anyway. It's okay to watch though, if I don't have anything
better to do. Colin said he was going to try out for the team this
year. I wonder if he'll make it. I wonder if he'll even remember to try
out. He might have gotten on to a different kick by now. No, scratch
that, he'll remember because Harry's on the team. Come to think of it,
Ron wants to try out too, for keeper.
No one else agrees
But I think Quidditch's boring
I'd rather not play
That's a haiku, a kind of Japanese poetry. Percy talked about them a
few days ago at dinner, but he was mostly talking about this one
Japanese wizard he admires who writes them all the time. Percy was
saying something about how hard the Japanese work all the time. I read
in Teen Witch magazine that young Japanese witches kill themselves if
they don't get all hundreds in their classes. That's a bit obsessive if
you ask me. I can picture Percy doing it though, if he'd ever failed
anything in school. Maybe Hermione too.
Speaking of school, I can't believe I made it all the way to fourth
year. I don't mean that I thought I was going to flunk out or anything,
but it's so weird, like just yesterday I was only in first year. And
that' not a very happy thought. It almost feels like my life is
slipping away from me like sand and the days just blur together. It's
been like that for a while. Sometimes I think that maybe I was supposed
to die that night in The Chamber and my life feels empty because I'm
just living on borrowed time. I wonder if destiny can be cheated like
that. If anyone could do it, it would be Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry, I
try but I can't stop myself from thinking about him all the time.
It's almost like life revolves around him. Not just my life, but
everybody's life, that we're all defined by how we know Harry. Is it
always that way with powerful wizards? Maybe Dumbledore's classmates
felt that way too. Harry and Dumbledore seem a lot alike to me, I
wonder if anybody else notices. Like Dumbledore's a really, really old
Harry. Maybe he is an older Harry. Maybe sometime in the future Harry
travels back in time to whenever Dumbledore was born and stayed there.
Maybe that's how Dumbledore seems to know everything. Impossible most
likely, but it'd be funny if it was true. I wonder what it would be
like, meeting your younger self and pretending to be somebody else.
I know if I could go back and meet my younger self I'd have some
advice to give her. Hello, Ginny, this is Ginny. Don't be an idiot.
Maybe I should take my own advice.
Maybe I ought to go to bed. Mum will get me up early to go to Diagon
Alley anyway, and if I'm all tired she'll suspect something. Or make me
take some nasty potion. Or both. Well, here are a couple more pages for
the drawer of paper.
Ginny
Ginny yawned and wiggled her fingers to un-cramp them. She put the
cap back on her ink bottle and shoved it, the quill and the paper in
her desk drawer. Quietly she pushed in her chair, turned around and sat
down on her bed.
She pulled down her covers and already in her pajamas, slid under
them. She reached up and blew out the candles that lit her room,
sending it into darkness. She yawned again and closed her eyes. Would
anything interesting happen this year? Well, the answer to that was
obvious. The better question was 'would anything interesting happen to
HER?' Another good one was did she really want it to. After all, the
last time something interesting had happened that involved her she'd
nearly died. At this point though she almost wished that ANYTHING at
all would happen to her just to stop the monotony of being the
invisible youngest Weasley.
To be continued...
Wow, you read the entire chapter, I'm impressed. (It was very long,
wasn't it?) Next chapter, both Ginny and Peeves go to Diagon Alley.
Will they meet? What do you think? Input, constructive criticism,
ideas, praise, anything you want to say is welcome. Not flames though,
flames make me sad.
Read it? Review it!