A/N:- There are a few things I need to say before I let you read this.

1.) I know Halloween was half a month ago. I wrote this just before Halloween, as a part of school homework that just happened to coincide with Halloween. I couldn't post this on here because I didn't know how good it was. I still have no idea how it is, but I'm still putting it on here.

2.) I spooked myself out way too much while writing this. I don't know why. It's not even that scary. I'm sorry.

Disclaimer:- I own nothing but the plot.

People often say, 'There's no such thing as ghosts.' Dan didn't believe in them either. Until about a year ago.

It was an ordinary August morning. Dan's best friend and flat-mate Phil entered the house, jumping with unusual energy.

'Look what I got!' Phil exclaimed.

Dan raised his eyes from his laptop screen just a bit. 'What have you- Oh, no. Oh, Jesus, no.'

Dangling from Phil's hand was a cage containing a cotton-white hamster. It had bright red eyes, and a cute, little, twitching mouth.

'I've named it Henry,' Phil beamed.

'No, Phil. We can't keep it.'

'Why not?'

'Hamsters are high maintenance pets. Believe me, I had one when I was younger.'

'I know you did. You've told me.' Phil looked at the furry hamster again. 'But it's so cute! And I've already bought it.'

Dan glared at him. 'Take it back, Phil.'

'Please? I promise I'll take care of it!'

Dan sighed. 'Fine. But keep in mind; I won't do anything for it. You're the owner, you look after it.'

Phil grinned. 'Okay!'

As it turned out, Dan didn't need to take care of it. Because that night, while he was in one of his surfing-the-net-till-4 am positions, he heard a knock on his bedroom door. Knowing it could only be Phil at this time of the night (he had had unexpected visits by friends at various times of the day. Don't even ask), he said, 'Come in.'

Phil entered the room. 'Um. Dan?'

'What?'

'There's a problem.'

That got Dan's attention. He looked up. 'What?'

'Well… Why don't you just come to my room and see?'

Dan stared at him. 'Okay.'

He put his laptop aside, slid out of bed, and followed Phil across the hallway to his bedroom.

Phil stopped at the doorway, causing Dan to narrowly avoid bumping into him.

Phil didn't seem to notice this. He just pointed towards the general direction of his bedside table.

Dan shifted his gaze across the darkened room, till he could dimly make out a cage, illuminated only by the moonlight coming through the window. Also, he saw two red dots staring at him from the vicinity of the cage.

Dan's mouth went dry. 'Is that…?'

Phil nodded. 'Yeah.'

Sitting in the dimly illuminated cage, was Henry the cotton-white hamster, with his soft fur and cute, twitchy mouth. Only difference was that his eyes instead of just being red, were glowing red.

Dan didn't know much about psychotic pets, but he was pretty sure that red eyes were not a good sign.

He started saying, 'When will-' but was cut off by a high pitched shriek that made him and Phil cover their ears. When the shriek stopped, both of them let their hands down. That's when the voice spoke.

Daniel Howell. It sounded like a thousand chalks on a blackboard at once. Dan hated that sound. Do you know who I am, boy?

Obviously not, Dan wanted to say. He felt himself shivering. He pressed his hands to the side of his thighs, trying to calm himself. 'I'm sorry, sir, but I-'

Sir? You really don't know who I am, do you?

'I, uh… No, I don't.'

Of course you don't. If you did, you wouldn't have called me sir. Well, boy, I'm here on official business.

Now Dan was confused. What possible "official business" could a monster hamster have? 'Official business, sir?'

Yes, boy. Do you remember your hamster, Suki?

'Of- Of course I do.' Had she died? Well, obviously. No hamster worth its lettuce could survive so many years in a city like London, where he lived.

Well, Suki, I'm sorry to say, is dead. A good specimen, she was. One of the most intelligent in our race. But, of course, you knew that.

Dan was 12 years old again. He remembered how his entire family had spent the day looking for the missing rodent. Did the monster hamster think her death was his fault? But she had escaped from her cage! 'I don't really know what that's got to do with me, sir. You see-'

Oh, I'm not saying it's your fault. The voice seemed amused. As terrified as Dan was, he felt a bit of anger. How dare he laugh at his terror?

The voice seemed to pick up on Dan's new emotion. Feeling angry, are we now, boy? We felt the same way when you, instead of just remembering Suki as a good time, analysed what her running away had taught you! As if she was nothing more than a lesson! And what's more, you shared her story on the internet?!

Dan now knew he definitely regretted uploading his video, "The Story of My Hamster", on YouTube. 'Forgive me, sir. I'll take that video down as soon as I can.'

The voice laughed, a sound like a million bees buzzing. It's too late for that, boy. There's only one thing left for us to do now. And that, is to KILL YOU!

And the hamster exploded.

The only other thing Phil remembered from that night was him and Dan running out on the street, screaming for help. He didn't know how or when, but Phil soon found himself in a small alleyway, quite alone.

He turned around. 'Dan?'

That's when he heard the scream coming from the alleyway to his left. Phil ran, and ran, and ran till he found a decapitated body in the next alley.

Phil dropped to his knees near the body. The face had been slightly disfigured, but it was enough to let him know that the body belonged to his best friend.

'Dan? DAN! DAN?!'

That had been a year ago. Phil remembered the events of that night as he walked down the street of Mexico City. It was really far away from London, but it was the only place where he was sure he could find a psychic.

Phil saw the tent as soon as he turned the corner, and took a deep breath. He had to do this.

He entered the dull-yellow tent, taking his hood off as he did so. He looked around. There was another dull-yellow curtain hanging from the tent top, shielding the rest of it from him. A sleepy accented voice greeted him at the entrance. 'Welcome, sir. Could you state your full name, please?'

'Uh… Philip Lester.'

'Just a moment please.' Phil heard whispers. Then, 'The madam is ready to see you. Please step inside the curtain.'

Phil did so. Sitting in front of him on a stool was an old lady with a wrinkled face, and loads of stone jewelry. She, like the tent, wore dull-yellow coloured clothes with leafy patterns. In front of her, was a round table, covered with a yellow table-cloth, and a polished crystal ball resting on top of it. Another stool rested on Phil's side of the table.

'What's with the yellow?' Phil blurted out without thinking.

The woman smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes. 'Welcome, Philip Lester. Take a seat. Tell me, what can I do for you?' Her English was heavily accented.

Phil sat down precariously on the stool. 'I want to talk to- to a friend.'

The woman sat forward, revealing her hazel brown eyes. Dan used to have hazel brown eyes, too. Darn it, Phil, he told himself, not now.

'I see,' the woman said, 'and has this friend of yours passed into the netherworld?'

'If you mean has he died, then yes. He has.'

'When?'

'Um… about a year ago.'

The woman grinned. 'Excellent. It is around their deathdays that spirits get restless. They get easier to call… Now, tell me, what was your friend's name?'

'Dan-' Phil choked. He still hadn't gotten over his death. 'Daniel Howell.'

The woman leaned forward and lightly touched the tips of her fingers to the crystal ball, motioning Phil to do the same. Then she closed her eyes and started rocking back and forth, muttering words Phil didn't understand.

Suddenly, the woman sat back, with her head fallen back. The crystal ball got so hot that it forced Phil to withdraw his hand for fear of getting burnt. Nursing his fingertips, he watched the woman carefully.

Her head came back up, and she opened her now completely white eyes.

Phil realised he was sitting forward in anticipation. 'D-Dan?'

The woman smiled. She opened her mouth, but no voice came out of it. Instead, a heavy whisper went around the tent. Hello, old friend.

Hearing his friend's- sort of- voice, Phil wanted to sob. 'Dan… Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Dan!'

Sorry for what? The whisper mused. It wasn't your fault, Phil. There's no way you would've known.

'I know, but… I should've listened to you. I should've returned that hamster when you told me to. I should've…'

It's okay, Phil. You were forgiven a long time ago. You didn't do it intentionally. I don't blame you. However… It took you this long to talk to me?

'I was searching for a psychic. I wanted to, for a long time, but I just didn't know how to face you.'

Hmm, the whisper said, so you were afraid of me?

Phil's heart sank. The whisper had taken an accusing tone. This was not going well. There was no point arguing. Even when alive, Dan used to be a strong debater. 'Um, I guess you can say that.'

The whisper seemed disappointed and angry at the same time. I see. Goodbye, Phil.

A whole minute passed before the woman started shaking and her eyes slowly returned to their normal colour. She stared at Phil- with pity or suspicion, he couldn't tell. 'That'll be 50 pesos, boy.'

Phil paid up and left, still shaking from the encounter. He didn't pay attention to where he was going, and soon found himself in a deserted alleyway, much like the one where Dan had been killed a year ago.

Phil knew this wasn't a coincidence. If there was anything Dan liked to play, it was practical jokes.

Phil smiled a little. 'Really, Dan? You couldn't wait till I went back to London?'

The air seemed to gain speed, and whirled around Phil, making a miniature tornado. It seemed to say no.

Phil tried to walk, but tripped and fell on his face. He turned on his back, laughing, and let himself go along with Dan's wishes.

The next day, a few curious locals were found crowding in an alleyway. A few of them were talking to one another. A little girl, about 9 years old, was seen running away from the spot, screaming something in Mexican. After her mother calmed her down enough to ask her what the matter was, she started crying, telling her mother everything. Any translator would've told you what she was saying. 'It's a man! It's a dead man! The devil himself killed him! He wrote it on the road next to him!'

The frantic mother wiped away her tears. 'Wrote what, dear?'

The girl hiccupped. 'He- he wrote, "This had to be done. D."'

A/N:- *hides behind a virtual shield* please don't kill me! I'm sorry I killed Dan and Phil, the story required it .

So… yeah. That happened.

To anyone that came here because you were following me for my Harry Potter story… I'm really, really sorry, but I don't think I'll continue with it. If anyone wants to take over it, I'll be glad to give it up. Just PM me and tell me, because then I'll be able to read it as well .

That's a lot of smilies. UGGGHHHH!