A chill that froze flesh and bone could always be felt in that corridor. It was something that remained there no matter any outside forces. There had been warming charms placed upon the area but they seemed to make it colder for a time, as if the hall was angry at the charms. It was soon left alone, abandoned by the living and the known dead of the schools inhabitants.
In the dark of night a shadowed figure wondered through the halls. This one was never used and so no one would ever catch a student out of bed, not here. The quiet footfalls echoed almost soundlessly off the walls. Picture frames, which should have housed the paintings of random people, were devoid of any such life. Backgrounds of what should have depicted a beautiful day in some place or other were made eerie with emptiness.
Walking cautiously down the silent hall, the chill biting at tightly wrapped skin, the darkened shape of the student shivered. Halfway down the hall the biting grew less, more easy to handle or maybe just grown used to as cold puffs of air were more visible. A Pale, ethereal figure appeared in the hall, pulling the student to a halt.
What was once messy, jet black hair was now softened by the transparency gained after death. Hogwarts robes adorned a too small frame, what can only be assumed as a red and gold tie left to hang around a neck, never to be fastened. A pair of black-rimmed glasses half hid emerald green eyes now dulled with depression. The wisp of a ghostly hand held out in a beckoning gesture. It was the only acknowledgement of the other in the hall before it started off, down the icy path that was all to familiar to dead eyes.
Trailing after a rapidly fading form, the darker figure had to stop at a closed door where the pale boy had disappeared into the wood. Pulling the protesting door open with a creak, an almost empty room came into view. A painting was all that remained it the dust and gloom. The dark and firm looking man glared unmoving at the room's occupant. Black hair blended into the black of a robe and then finally into dark green background. A hand, the same that had beckoned, seemed to gently run over the surface of the painting, careful not to push through it. Emerald gaze looking up at the stern face with a mixture of loathing, hope, pleading and desperation flitting across pale features before fading away without a word.
I know its short... think of it as a intro thing and don't kill me! hides I sware I dun have the pennies!