Hermione read the letter for the third time, and it still didn't make any sense to her.

'Dear Miss Granger,

I apologise for bothering you with my writing to you, but something strange is happening at the castle and we – Rubeus and me - don't know what to do about it.

We would be most grateful if you could come up here and tell us what it is, but please don't tell anyone else about it until you know what it is because we can't work it out.

If it is possible, I could meet you in Hogsmeade one day at sunset and bring you to the castle without anyone else knowing about it.

Yours very faithfully

Argus Filch.

PS Rubeus send his regards, and would have written himself, but he got bit by one of his animals and his hand isn't too good.'

Why would they, of all people, write to her instead of going to the Headmaster, or even McGonagall? And why all the need for secrecy anyway? Hermione was intrigued.

Since the war had ended six months before, her life had moved into calmer waters. She had joined the Ministry, and was already making a name for herself in the legal department. She was working on removing legislation that Voldemort had brought in. It wasn't simply a case of rubbing them out; laws had to be revoked properly, in accordance with the rules of the Wizengemot, and she had to prepare all the necessary reports and evidence required.

Yes it was interesting work that she was really enjoying, but it wasn't daring. It was quiet and diligent research, but just occasionally she became nostalgic for the adventures she used to have with Harry and Ron. Of course, she didn't miss the danger and the fighting, but…maybe a bit of excitement occasionally wouldn't come amiss?

Drawing a clean sheet of parchment towards her, she picked up her quill.

-o0o-

He was waiting for her in the snug of the Hogs Head as arranged, nursing a glass of firewhisky. He stood as she approached, wiping his hand against his jacket before offering to her. She took it hesitantly.

'Good evening Miss, very good of you to come. Very good indeed. Can I get you anything?

'No thank you, Mr Filtch. Now, tell me what this is about.'

Filch looked furtively around the room, making sure they could not be overheard. 'A ghost, Miss. A ghost on the battlements of Hogwarts castle.'

'Oh.' Hermione was rather disappointed. 'Which one?'

'A new one, Miss. One I've never seen before…that is, not as a ghost.'

'Who, then?'

'Professor Dumbledore, Miss.'

Dumbledore? Why had he chosen to remain and not pass beyond the veil? Everyone now knew what had happened, so why was there any need for him to remain? Of course, at the time of his death they had accused Snape of his murder and he had been brought before the Wizengemot after the battle. It had been the clearest case yet, Harry Potter himself had been the chief prosecution witness.

And yet, Snape had not only been exonerated but elevated to hero status. Under veritaserum, and through his memories in the pensive he had proven that Dumbledore had chosen – indeed arranged – to die at Snape's hand, if necessary. Snape had been working against Voldemort all the time.

Not only had Severus Snape been released, but had returned to Hogwarts to continue as it's Headmaster. Professor McGonagall had ceded her position as his replacement readily, and continued to work enthusiastically as his Deputy.

'You've not told the Headmaster about this, or Harry?'

'No, Miss. The Headmaster is busy and I don't want to burden him. As for Mr Potter, well…he's got enough on his plate, I think. It's been very hard for him since the end of the war, Miss, very hard. He's still grieving, if you take my meaning. Grieving for all those that died, I think, and he misses the old Headmaster something terrible. I think he saw him as more than a teacher, almost like a father, you might say. I don't want to trouble him.'

'Yes, you're probably right. I'm trying to persuade him to leave Hogwarts and join the Ministry, but he's not ready yet, I think. Has the ghost said anything to you?'

'No, Miss. I got on well with him, but he won't say a word to me now.'

'Very well, let's see him then.'

-o0o-

It was a cold night, cloudless and with a frost already starting to form upon the stones of the castle. Hermione shivered, even through the thickness of her travelling cloak.

'Who's there?'

'Hagrid? It's Argus; I've bought Miss Granger with me.'

'Hermione? Oh, its good ter see yer.' Hermione found herself crushed in an enormous pair of arms before she even had a chance to open her mouth.

''Uuuh…oof…Hagrid…'

'Sorry, love, sorry!' The pressure on her lungs eased and she was able to take a breath.

'Hello Hagrid, it's nice to see you, too. How's the hand?' He shrugged and held up a paw the size of a dustbin lid, wrapped in bandages.

'It's bin better, but nothin' to worry about.'

Despite, or perhaps because, of her overenthusiastic welcome Hermione found herself smiling. He was so huge, so solid, that she felt nothing could go wrong in his presence.

'Now, you two, will you please tell me why you've dragged me up on the roof on the coldest night of the year?'

'Like I told you, Miss, there's a new ghost at Hogwarts. We've both seen it, haven't we Rubeus?'

'Aye, Hermione, we have. About this time of night, just as that star there touches the top of Gryffindor Tower. But he won't say anything to us.'

'That's the part I don't understand' said Hermione, thinking hard. 'I mean, it obviously wants to be seen, so why…'

'Hush now' said Hagrid, suddenly. 'See! He comes again.'

Hermione felt a chill run through her that had nothing to do with the cold. It was Dumbledore. At least, it looked like her old Headmaster, and it was wearing the same robes as he had been wearing the night…the night he'd died.

She felt herself pushed to the front of the group, and a finger prodded her shoulder.

'You're the clever one, Miss. Go on, you speak to it.'

'Wh…wh...who are you?' The chattering of her teeth was not only caused by the cold.

The ghost merely looked at her, and raised an eyebrow.

'Are you…were you…I mean, are you Professor Dumbledore?'

The ghost did not change its expression.

'Why are you here, Professor? What is it you want?'

'Tha's what we've been asking it, Hermione. He won't us either. You keep right on asking him' Hagrid encouraged. 'You're clever, he'll speak to you, sure as eggs is eggs.'

The ghost continued to observe them, in silence, and Hermione started to feel frustrated.

'Please, Professor? I mean, what's the point of you being here if you won't talk to anybody? That's just ridiculous!'

'Look' said Filtch. 'You've upset it now, it's going.' Sure enough, the ghost began to fade as it moved away from them. Did it look sad, or disappointed?

'Professor, I'm sorry!' called out Hermione, moving towards it. 'I only want to help! Please stay!'

The ghost turned to her, its form becoming opaque once again.

'Will you talk to me, Professor?' There was silence. Hermione chewed on her lip as she thought, and she noticed a small smile on Dumbledore's lips. Hermione realised that thinking was the key, and that was her speciality.

'You won't talk to me?' Silence. 'But you want to talk, don't you? You've not moved on because there is something keeping you here.' She thought again. 'But you can't tell me, can you? So who can you tell? The Headmaster?'

Dumbledore's eyes grew angry, and he started to fade once more.

'I'm sorry! Not the Headmaster.' Dumbledore had almost disappeared from view, she had to be quick. 'McGonagall? Harry!'

He came back again; almost solid in the moonlight, and once more there was a smile on his face.

'You'll talk to Harry? Professor, he's had a hard time recently, what with the war and everything. We're trying to help him, but…couldn't you give me a message? I promise I'll tell him.'

The smile had gone from Dumbledore's face.

Hermione took a deep breath. 'Very well, Headmaster.' Being called that seemed to please him, and he smiled at her once more. 'I shall bring Harry here, tomorrow night at this hour.'

Dumbledore smiled, and bowed his head to her before fading away.

-o0o-

'Good girl, Hermione!' Hagrid wrapped her in his arms and swung her around. 'I knew you could crack it. They always said you was the cleverest witch of your generation. I wonder what it is the sly ol' devil wants to tell Harry, eh?'

Hermione leaned against a buttress, running her hand through her hair in a distracted manner.

'That's what worries me, Hagrid. It's something he can't tell anyone else, not even Professor Mcgonagall.'

She looked up, suddenly. 'Hagrid, this is the tower he died on, isn't it?'

Hagrid nodded sadly. 'Aye, it is. Sacrificed himself, and Professor Snape helped him, they say, to save that Malfoy boy from damaging his soul. Great men they are, both of 'em; great men.'

Hermione shook her head. 'There' something about this I don't like. Dumbledore's ghost being here, and only willing to talk to Harry. I fear there is something rotten in this school, and it augers badly for us all.'

Hagrid let out a booming laugh. 'You'll be applying for the job of Divination professor next! The war's over, Hermione. Voldemort's gone and we can all live in peace. No, I reckon it's just something private between those two.'

Hermione doubted it very much. Dumbledore's knowledge of deep magic was vast, and it would take something exceptional to keep him here after his allotted time was passed.

'Perhaps' she said. 'Let's go and find Harry, and tell him what we have seen tonight. Then we shall know.'