Chapter One. Between the Dark and the Daylight

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry housed many secrets. Disappearing steps and transforming staircases were only the tip of the iceberg. There were rooms, even entire wings that were only accessible by the right person at the right time under precisely the right circumstances. One such room was the Ghosts' Parlour in the dungeons. Down a dark passageway lined with candles, past several icy cold, dank rooms, hung a portrait of the Headless Hunt. No one with a pulse could pass through that portrait, but for those who had left life behind, it was a simple trick to fly through into the freezing chamber.

It was a windowless room, with landscapes featuring graveyards and black velvet tapestries on the wall. Black candles sat in dusty sconces, burning with an eerie blue light that did little to dispel the gloom. Cobwebs gracefully filled the corners, and the cold stone of the wall added to the chill of the room. Uncomfortable looking chairs and settees flanked the room, covered with dust from disuse, and floor to ceiling bookshelves housed such tomes as Who Moved My Grave? and Death Be Not Proud, Nor Be It Interesting. Here, the ghosts came to socialize, to rest, and, occasionally, to plot.

Such was the case on a cold September evening.

Curfew had rung, and most of the students were tucked snugly into their four-poster beds, dreaming adolescent dreams. Not all students, of course, were complying with the rules. Scattered throughout the castle were several couples, busily making up for time away from each other during the summer holidays. Two third-year boys were tickling the pear, trying to get into the kitchens for a midnight snack. A particularly studious Ravenclaw was skulking around the Charms classroom, desperately trying to fit in a few more moments of practice before her exam in the morning. And the Head Boy and Head Girl were making their way down the hall, bickering as usual.

"Honestly, Ronald. How are you going to gain their respect if you insist on referring to them as midgets?"

"Hermione, they are midgets. Did you look at them? I swear, someone puts shrinking potion in the pumpkin juice at the beginning-of-term feast."

"You cannot use your power as Head Boy to intimidate the first-years."

"Power as Head Boy? Will you listen to yourself, Hermione? Gods, it's a badge, a private room, and a bigger bathroom. It's not as if we're the bloody prime ministers of the student body. Power as Head Boy..."

Ronald Weasley chuckled to himself as he looked incredulously at the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw passing by. It was a shame, really. Had he been paying more attention to his living companion, he would have seen all the signs leading up to a true Hermione Granger Outburst.

The Grey Lady turned the corner just as Hermione exploded. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, she made her way to the Ghosts' Parlour. Being the first to arrive, she made her way towards the only chair in the room considered comfortable. She hovered above it gracefully, greeting the other ghosts as they entered. Tonight was the Ghosts' Council, the monthly meeting when all-important decisions were made.

Twenty minutes later, the parlour was full. All were present and accounted for, with the exception of Professor Binns, who never left his classroom desk. Peeves was flinging himself at the portrait trying to gain access, but this was one place where the chaotic poltergeist could not wreak havoc. The Grey Lady cleared her throat, and moved that the meeting begin.

The first Council of the school year was generally a long and tedious affair. The Bloody Baron dominated the discussion, making demands in his harsh, gravely voice. Moaning Myrtle voiced her many complaints about the loo, the lake, the sewage pipes, and her lack of companionship. Plans were made for Halloween Feast, and the ghosts discussed, in quiet tones, the new Headmistress and the plans to keep Hogwarts safe. Finally, the meeting was about to wrap up.

"I do have one more order of business," stated the Grey Lady in a cultured voice. She ignored the groans of the other ghosts and continued. "As you may have realized, the... situation between the Head Girl and Head Boy still has failed to make progress. Sir Nicholas, if you would, please?"

All the ghosts perked up and began paying attention. The fiery, yet unfortunately still platonic, relationship between Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley was something they had all been paying attention to since the two began squabbling in the Great Hall six years ago. A ghost's day at times can be boring, and Ron and Hermione had been excellent fodder for ghosts' gossip for a good long while.

"Ahem. Yes, well. I know that many of us were hoping for progress this summer, what with the wizarding world being in chaos, and Dumbledore dying. At this he stopped, wiping a ghost of a tear from his eye. "We had all hoped that they would finally come to their senses and stop their arguing. Alas, they are still fighting as much as ever. More so, actually."

"What do you propose to do about it?" asked a hopelessly romantic, dumpy ghost from Hufflepuff.

"Well, that's the question, isn't it?" said the Grey Lady briskly. "We've sat back for six years now waiting for nature to take its course, but those two are thicker than Polyjuice Potion. Honestly, smartest witch in England, and she can't figure out why it is he drives her crazy? And he's even worse. No," she said with a shake of her head, "It's time we intervened. If we don't do something soon, they are going to end up killing each other. And I don't fancy two bickering Heads fighting it out here at Hogwarts for all eternity."

"I suppose we could... er... dip our oars in," said the Fat Friar uncertainly. "It would certainly be a mercy if the two of them were to figure things out.

"Oh, I don't know," replied the Bloody Baron. "It does keep things rather interesting to hear them bickering throughout the castle."

The Grey Lady gave the Baron a look of disdain. "This is not about keeping them bickering for your entertainment, Sir. This is about romance." The dumpy ghost from Hufflepuff heaved a great sigh. "I propose," the Grey Lady continued, "that we band together, and do what we can to speed things along."

A shifty looking ghost from Slytherin made a rather rude noise. "Why," he said petulantly, "would we want to do that? We've watched moody young people wander about this castle for centuries. What makes these two worth our energies?" He shook his head in disgust. "I have better things to do with my time then try to push two lovesick fools together."

"Such as what?" asked the Grey Lady. A heavy silence filled the room. Truth be told, none of them had much to do with their time. It was over six weeks until the Halloween Feast, and even longer until the Headless Hunt. In the past, the ghosts spent this part of the term reporting back to Dumbledore with news from their houses, but none of them had the heart to go visiting the new headmistress in the old headmaster's office. Gloom hung over the room like a funeral pall.

"Well, then," said the Fat Friar jovially in a forced attempt to lighten the mood, "what do you say we make this interesting?" All faces turned towards him. "I say we each take a turn to move things along. Winner gets to choose the menu for the Halloween Feast?"

"Winner gets to join the Headless Hunt?" said Nearly Headless Nick.

"Winner gets to have the u-bend cleaned?" whined Moaning Myrtle.

"Winner gets the wish of his or her choice," said the Grey Lady decisively. "So, who goes first?"

The Ghosts' Council continued well into the night. By the time dawn came, the ghosts filed out through the portrait, smug expressions barely visible on their translucent faces. They might not have lives of their own, but that wouldn't stop them from stepping in to make sure the Head Girl and Head Boy didn't make the biggest mistake of their lives.