A/N: This is my first fanfic, so don't expect anything that great. (That should attract a bunch of readers.) Sorry if I mess up the tags or the format.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Grey Lady, Ravenclaw, Peeves, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Professor Binns, Lord Patrick Delany-Podmore, or Hermione Granger. Although I do own Lord Patricks's younger, more beautiful wife (*hiss*).

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Chapter One

The Grey Lady sighed. She was sitting in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Alone. As usual. She rested in one of the arm chairs, writing in her diary.

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8th of October, 2001

Dear Diary,
Nothing much happened today. Why doesn't anything significant ever happen to me? Not that I would want to become petrified like poor old Sir Nicholas or play pranks on the students like Peeves just to get attention. It's just that I've always been out of the limelight. Not one student has asked me about my name or my history. The only person that has asked in the past 200 years has been Professor Binns. I only told him about major events in my life like my marriage and my death because I feared that he would turn it into a history lesson for his unfortunate students. I can barely remember my life myself. I know I've kept diaries since I was 13, but reading about events and remembering them are two different things.
The only thing I remember is Lord Patrick Delany-Podmore, my husband. We had been together for 12 years when I died at the age of 36. (A/N: I looked at the Grey Lady in the movie and she really isn't that old.) After my death, he married someone younger and more beautiful. I began to wonder if he really was that shallow and tried to remember how much my dowry was. Did my husband (technically ex-husband) really love me?

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The Grey Lady always muttered or spoke softly when she wrote. She found it hard to concentrate with all the socializing of the students and the discussions of the teachers and ghosts. She couldn't imagine why they would run around talking about who was going out with who, what students were their favorite, or what life used to be like. The Grey Lady just liked to keep to herself.

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Orla Quirke was lying in her bed, pretending to be asleep. After all, she didn't want Terry Boot catching her again and reporting her to Hermione Granger, the Head Girl. She sat up carefully, making sure that Terry was sound asleep. The sleeping potion that Orla had slipped into Terry's glass of water had helped. Orla slowly crept out of her bed and slinked to the doorway. She closed the door and heaved a sigh of relief.

Orla continued down the stairs until she heard someone muttering. She wondered who could be up this late. It must have been at least 1 a.m.

"Sir Nicholas... pranks... Peeves... limelight... history... 200 years... Professor Binns... marriage... history... unfortunate... life... diaries... Lord Patrick... died... younger... shallow... dowry...really love me?"

Could it have been one of the Professors? Orla listened to the voice closely. It was clearly female. Professor McGonagall perhaps? The voice sounded younger...yet older. It didn't make any sense. The voice sounded younger in age but older somehow. More knowledgeable. More experienced.

As she stood there wondering who it could be, the Grey Lady glanced up. "Who is it?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, I was just....going to the...lavatory!"

"Then why aren't you in your nightclothes?"

"Umm...I was so tired that I forgot to change."

"Okay, dearie. They're that way." The Grey Lady pointed to the right of Orla.

Orla scurried off to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall quickly. Why was the Grey Lady muttering? Was she insane? No, she thought, just depressed. Maybe she needed someone to talk to. A boyfriend perhaps? But how could she get a ghost a boyfriend? Did they still date? She decided to find out in the morning.

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