Posted 22 March 2017
I am taking liberties with what I believe magical ghosts can do, and I am drawing from several different ideas for them, like Harry Potter, Casper, and Supernatural. I am also taking the idea of Harry being eight. He doesn't understand some concepts yet, and it will come with time. He can grow intellectually, but he was always be eight.
I am open to suggestions and ideas.
-/-start-/-
It is very quiet beneath the stairs.
Inside the cupboard, a translucent figure sits with his knees curled up to his chest. His messy hair falls in front his eyes, and he reaches up to brush it back. With a huff, he frowns at the darkness, nose wrinkling before relaxing as the light bulb flicks on.
He never used to be able to do that.
He has been in the cupboard for a few weeks now and had noticed his new ability to move through walls. The only problem is he is not sure if he is allowed to go out.
He is not stupid. He is eight… was eight. He knows he's dead. He knows he's a ghost. The teachers at school let him wear a ghost costume last year for Halloween when he did not show up in one. So, he knew what a ghost was.
The only issue is that someone has always told him what to do.
This is freedom, and he really is not sure how to act.
Did he haunt things? How would he do that? Was there some sort of protocol to being undead? And, why didn't he move onto wherever his parents went? Why is he still in his cupboard?
Idly, he runs his fingers over the stained wood floor of the cupboard. Underneath the floorboards was a stash of his baby teeth. After the tooth fairy did not come when he lost them, he always kept them beneath the lose floorboard. Though, with a squint, he sees one in the corner that wasn't hidden beneath the floor.
Rats must have moved it.
Underneath is also his toy soldier collection, something his cousin had thrown away when boredom hit. And, he really understood his cousin now. He wanted to do something. Anything. But, he could not figure out how to get his toy soldiers unstuck yet. He learned how to turn on the light, but this was harder. The spoon he used to have in here to pry up the board was gone.
Another huff escapes him. It was unnecessary breath, more of a motion than anything, but lately that is what he had been doing. Huffing in frustration and boredom. Unfortunately, it was a habit he picked up from his aunt.
Maybe, he thought, he could go outside the cupboard? It is not like anyone had opened it in awhile, and he did not even have to open the door.
He had never been very brave, but he is dead now. Maybe it is time to take the chance.
Hesitantly, he sticks his head through the door, looking around the dark hall and hearing no movement. Slowly the rest of his body follows until he is standing in the hall looking at ticking clock on the wall that says it is close to four in the morning.
He is still bored.
For a while, he sits above the couch in the living room, taking great joy in the fact he never was allowed to do that before. But, it only last for a few minutes, and he tries to turn on the television like he did with the light.
He is still trying when his aunt makes her way down stairs to make breakfast.
He had not seen her in awhile, and she is thinner than what he remembered, with dark bags beneath her eyes.
"You don't look so good, Aunt 'Tunia," he states to himself, moving over and floating upwards to sit on the counter as she gathered ingredients from the cupboard and refrigerator. He watches her shiver as she sets something through him, and he frowns. It slowly pulls into a smile.
Maybe this is a good thing. She cannot see or hear him. Maybe this is his chance to say all he wants, like his cousin.
So, he rambles as she works, talking for the first time in ages, more than he ever had the chance to before. And, when his uncle and cousin come to the table as breakfast is served, they cannot see or hear him either.
He is quickly distracted, though, as his cousin turns on the television. He sits down in the empty seat at the table, entrapped by the show. He had never got to watch it before, not really, only through the cracks of his cupboard.
For several hours, he watches alongside his cousin various shows like Thundercats, He-man, Scooby Doo, and the Pink Panther. His favorite, by far though, is the reruns of Batman and Robin.
It takes many evenings practicing until he is able to make the television turn on so he could keep watching.
A few weeks later, the Dursley family is away from the house, on a trip planned months ago to the coast. And, he is once again left bored.
He had gotten used to following his aunt around as she did work and watching television with his cousin and reading the paper over his uncle's shoulder. Now that no one was there, it was just a quiet, empty house.
But, if he could leave the cupboard, why could he not leave the house?
With the slightest bit of hesitation, he floats out the front door and sits on the front step of the house, watching the people work outside and the kids ride their bikes.
It had been a few rare sunny days at the end of summer, but soon clouds were covering up the sun and it started to drizzle. For a while, he is content to sit and watch as people gathered back inside their homes, but he then sees his favorite cat sitting across the street. A smushed faced black and white cat that he had played with whenever Ms. Figg babysat him. Smiling, he starts to go towards it, but he runs into a wall at the end of the yard.
Frowning, he pushes against it. It felt solid. Nothing had felt solid in weeks. Huffing, he sits at the edge and watches the cat, waving his fingers at it.
To his surprise, the cat follows his fingers before making its start across the street.
"Can you see me, Oreo?"
The look the cat gives him is almost a glare. He grins happily; sure the cat could see him. Though, he wondered why it could. None of the other animals, cats and dogs, seemed to notice him. It would be a long time till he would know the cat as a magical animal, a kneazle.
He watches as Oreo crosses the street, taking her delicate time moving around the forming puddles.
And, then promptly watches as a speeding car does not see the cat, and a yowl pierces through the air as Oreo is flung the remaining way across the street and into his yard.
Hurriedly, he moves beside the lifeless cat, trying to press his fingers over the fur, but his hands merely pass through the cat.
Little did he know that his presence stopped Oreo's soul from moving on, confused at the presence of magical ghost and tying the cats soul to that of a young boy.
He sits beside the still body for many hours, hugging his knees to his chest as the first person, cat, to see him in so many weeks experienced death by vehicular cat-slaughter.
He looks down as he feels something rough against his fingers. And, that is a marvel on its own, as he has not felt something in quite a while. But, the greater marvel is the translucent form of Oreo, little wet nose nudging his hand.
He indulges the feline, petting the thick fur with awe.
The rain continues to pour around them long after Ms. Figg finds the body of her deceased cat, taking her back to bury with wrenching sobs as she mutters about 'stupid muggle vehicles.'
He merely thinks that now he has a companion to play with. Looking down at the cat, he states quite seriously.
"Oreo, we are going to play Batman. You're Catwoman, and I'm Robin, okay?"
-/-
So, this is more of an introduction into ghost Harry as he adapts to being undead. Ignore any typos or errors. I don't proofread, I just type and post.
Let me know if your thoughts or ideas.
