Grim Grinning Ghosts Chapter 2 - Harrison and Harold
A/N:
Oni: Look who's back!
Harrison: My goodness, you're on a roll today!
Harold: We're... updated?
Harrison: Yes, indeed! I'm so excited!
Oni: Yes, yes. I get it. Now do you want to go read it or what?
Harrison: I believe we are missing something...
Oni: Oh right!
For letters and writing
"Harrison and Harold speaking in their mind"
"Normal speech"
Oni: Ah yes, and the disclaimer! Harrison!
Harrison: Oni does not own Harry Potter, nor the plot bunny. She does own the renderings of Harold and I, but that's about it.
Oni: ONWARDS!
Surrey Graveyard is not a place one would frequent, yet alone reside in. Tombstones were placed neatly in rows and columns, stating the person's name, birth and death dates, and epitaph. This was nearly the entirety of the humble graveyard, unless you looked closely at the edges of the graveyard, near the berry bushes. There, in between some mulberry bushes, was a small stone path. If one were to walk down that path, they would find themselves traveling on a narrow and winding stone path that was around a half a mile long. By now you would be in the boundary lines of some land purchased by one Eric Wesley, and with a few more minutes of walking, you will see a sorrowfully beautiful sight.
A stone mausoleum stood proudly in the middle of what looked like a garden out of a fairytale. It was surrounded by many white lilies, each softly glowing and beautiful. Perched on top of the entrance to the mausoleum was a stone stag and doe standing on their hind legs. Flanking the stone building were large stone statues, one of a man and one of a woman. The woman had beautiful flowing hair and wore a simple gown. She was looking down at a lily in her hands with a soft smile on her face. On the other side was the statue of the man, who was standing tall, and wore a simple suit. A pair of round glasses was perched on his face, which was hard set with determination. A pond of clear water with no fish was set behind the mausoleum, lined with multicolored pebbles.
If one were to walk in and see this garden, they would think that whoever made all this had absolutely no life whatsoever. They would probably never know how right they were, in more than one sense of the phrase 'no life'. After all no one really visited this place, sans sometimes the odd entwined couple and unruly delinquent dared to go, but they would usually run away at the slightest sound in fear of being found out. Especially when people started to disappear completely.
One of the culprits behind the disappearances was perched on top of the mausoleum on a warm afternoon in July, contemplating life, knowledge, and whatnot. He seemed to be a small boy of around seven years of age who was dressed in a simple back tuxedo with a dark green bow tie, black hair tastefully messy. A square pair of glasses that was not framed at the top currently sat on his nose, magnifying the bright green eyes the child had. While a boy in a tuxedo sitting on top of a mausoleum was indeed strange, the strangest thing was that the child was translucent. Nearly see through white gloved hands gripped an opaque, black journal as the boy read his newest entry:
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I possessed Harold again to find out more about why some people are talking about Harry Potter, since nobody seemed to care before. I think that I might just go completely mad if I stay here forever, it's been almost three, four years and I'm used to it by now. You know, being dead. But mother told me last Halloween about this 'Hogwarts' and I can't help but be excited about it. Harold and I practiced again and I think we've almost got it down pat. Remember December 4th. Our letter should be coming soon, I'm really excited about it. I think it would be interesting, pretending that Harry never died and split into me and Harold, and I wonder how long I can pull it off...
I'll write in here when I get the time, but I can't make promises.
Sincerely,
Harrison
Harrison closed his journal with a soft sigh. He watched from his vantage point as a small figure made its way to the entrance of the mausoleum. This new figure looked almost identical to Harrison, with the same messy black hair (that was more of the 'sticking all over the place' variety), bright green eyes (more curious and slightly glazed), black tuxedo (so it was a bit torn in places, he could fix it...), and glasses (rounder and slightly cracked, what has he been up to?). However, this boy was incredibly pale, and parts of his flesh seemed to have fallen off, his right hand completely skeletal from digging in the dirt. Parts of his cheek were missing, permanently showing bony teeth that had taken a sharper point.
"Hello again, Harold!" The translucent boy chirped, "I say, you look rather mussed up! What on Earth have you been up to?"
The boy (well, walking corpse) looked up at Harrison, and gave the perching child (well, ghost) a loped smile.
"Flowers growing pretty now." Was all he said before trudging into the mausoleum.
Harrison shrugged and floated down from his perch on top of the stone building. Floating just above the ground, he followed his undead counterpart, hoping that he could clean the poor lad up before Harrison tried his mother's spell again. Fishing the yew and phoenix feather wand (that's what mother told him it was at least, but apparently it belonged to a very, very bad man who wasn't dead yet, so Harrison gained possession through defeating him, somehow) out of his pocket and twirled it in his hand, feeling the magic pulsing through it sing with his own in a ghostly tune. He never knew why the wand only liked him and not Harold, but Harrison was guiltily grateful for it. There wasn't a whole lot that ghosts could hold after all.
Peaking inside, the ghost boy watched as Harold coaxed the lilies to grow out of the stone, surrounding the ground around their coffin. The undead child always had an affinity for plant life, even if he himself was dead. Harrison remembered at one point that he too could do that, back when he and Harold were one person, back when Harry Potter was alive. Harrison shook his head in amusement as Harold grinned as much as he could as flower stems surrounded the base of the coffin, twisting and weaving in complex patterns.
"It's beautiful, Harold."
Harold slowly turned to look at Harrison, a smile growing on his rotting (well, not anymore...) face.
"Thank...you..." He managed out, his voice rattled as if he had dirt in his throat, which he probably had.
"You are most welcome! Just one question, off the subject, what do you think of all this 'Hogwarts' business?" Harrison asked as he floated to perch on top of their coffin.
"Hog...warts...nice? Make...pretty...flowers?"
"Hm... Probably. There is something called 'Herbology' in the list of classes, no doubt we'll be working with plants..." The ghost child supplied, remembering his parent's rendition of the school.
"Then...Harold...go..."
"Alright then, but we'll have to practice! Can't have them know we're dead..."
Harrison flicked his wand upwards, and mumbled some words under his breath. He felt himself float into Harold, merging with him. Harold blinked as his body grew up, his broken flesh mending to look like new and his teeth blunting into that of a normal human's. The suit stretched with him, changing into a green and black hoodie, his black slacks turning into blue jeans, and his dress shoes turning into sneakers.
"This should do." Harrison said using Harold's mouth.
Harold didn't try to speak, he was resting, letting his ghost counterpart pilot the body. Besides, Harrison's quick movements made them look alive, and Harold relished in the intellectual spirit's ability to move the body so rapidly. Harrison flexed his fingers, loving the feeling of being able to feel whole again. He swiftly walked out of the mausoleum, and made his way through the winding path, and past the graves. Once outside the graveyard walls, people watched as small boy of around eleven years of age practically skip away, humming to himself. He passed an old man, who was on his weekly walk to the graveyard, and waved to him. The old man jovially waved back, and Harrison jogged up to him.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Wesley!"
"Good afternoon, little Harry. How have you been?" The old man said in a soft voice.
Mr. Wesley was the only one who knew of the grave, so obviously he found out about the child's re-animation. After that, the old man spoiled the dead boy rotten (the pun was VERY intended, why do people never love his jokes, Harrison wondered), bringing in slabs of stone and tools for Harold, creating a pond and buying a journal and pen for Harrison, and giving monthly offerings to the two - who knew that ghosts could only eat food that was offered in ceremony?
"We have been well. Ah! Before we forget, we will be attending a boring school this year, so don't be alarmed if we are not home."
A kind nod was given by the old man, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, handing it to the smaller boy. The small child took it, perplexed, and opened it. Inside was around £1,000, all in different notes and coins. With trembling hands, the boy tried to return it.
"Avos, this is too much! We can't accept this!"
Gnarled hands enveloped tiny, pale hands, closing the fingers over the wallet. A small smile graced a wrinkled face at the use of the title 'Avos', Latin for 'Grandfather'. Patting the wallet, he replied:
"Take it my child, for anything I do now will never be enough to make up for what I did not do back then. Lord knows I have enough of this, what I have given is nothing to me, if it calms your precious little soul."
With that, Mr. Wesley tipped his hat and went on his way, his cane tapping on the concrete sidewalk. The combination of Harrison and Harold gave a small salute, much more mild as Harold's psyche mixed in with Harrison's, and walked away.
Nobody truly notices a small hooded boy walking down the street, so 'Harry' was left to his musings. So when he got on the bus, paid the fair, and sat quietly all the way to London, nobody questioned it. Some offhandedly wondered why he didn't have a guardian with him, but waved it off as the child being particularly independent. They didn't bother him as he leant against the window with a wistful expression, nor when he started to sing softly, though they couldn't hear the words. When the bus stopped in London, he quietly hopped off, still singing the same song.
"When the crypt doors creak..."
Skipping along the streets of London, the boy smiles, yet nobody pays the child heed.
"And the tombstones quake..."
A stray cat shambled up, straggly and close to death. It nuzzled the child's leg, knowing that the child holds life in his heart. The boy paused in his walk, but not in his song.
"Spooks come out for a swinging wake..."
Carefully picking up the starving stray, 'Harry' held it to his chest, petting it, giving it the love it never had before.
"Happy haunts materialize..."
The cat mewls, feeling the warmth emanating from within the boy heal it, fix its wounds.
"And begin to vocalize..."
Soon the feline felt as good as new, it's black fur coat glistening instead of dirty, and it felt... content. It didn't feel hungry anymore.
"Grim Grinning Ghosts come out to socialize."
Harrison lifted the cat up, Harold looking into its eyes. Inside the mind space that the consciousness of Harold and Harrison resided, the two were having a little 'chat'.
Okay, Harold got attached and now Harrison is trying to reason with him.
"Can...we...keep...kitty?" Harold asked.
"Unfortunately, we have nothing to take care of it with, I highly doubt it would like being around the deceased for very long." Was the reply.
"We...could...bring...it...with...us... Could...be...my...kitty..."
Harrison sighed.
Small feet hung in the air as the cat looked at the boy, silence coming between them for a while as the world passed them by. It was only when a harried businessman almost knocked them over that Harrison and Harold came to an agreement.
"Very well, you can keep the kitten. But you will help take care of it."
Hands scratched behind the cats ears, making it purr.
"Harold...promise..."
"Excellent. Well, we better not dawdle now. The letter should be coming by very soon, and it would be best if the address isn't the graveyard, don't you think?"
With the kitten safely held in the child's hands, the two undead (can ghosts be called undead, Harrison mused, or merely dead?) boys navigated the body over to a nearby cafe bakery. Harrison walked up to the counter, where a clerk was watching him, perplexed. Small hands clasped in front of him, Harrison took a breath.
"Pardon me, but I am here to pick up a cake under the name 'Harry', it was ordered a week ago."
The clerk gave him a pitying glance, but still smiled warmly.
"Yeah, I remember you. Harrison, right? We've got your cake, the team had fun decorating it, I'll get it for you."
While the clerk went into the back, Harrison found a small table that was unoccupied and sat there politely until he returned. The kitten shifted in his grip, playfully pawing at zipper on the hoodie.
"What do you suppose should be," Harrison glanced at its underbelly, "his... name?"
"James." Harold replied confidently.
"After father? Very well."
Scratching below its head, Harrison spoke aloud to the little kitten.
"Your name shall be James. Is that alright with you?"
The black cat only mewled happily, nuzzling into the child's arms. Harold giggled, petting the cat while Harrison sat back and sighed. This is how the clerk found them, setting the cake down on the table, his coworkers gathering with him. Fishing the lighter out of his pocket, he smiled at the surprised child, whose confused eyes glanced at him and his coworkers. Lighting the thirteen green candles on the white cake decorated with sugar lilies, they all began to sing.
"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday to you!"
'Harry''s eyes glistened with happy tears, thanking all of them quietly before they all dispersed back into the normal grind of things. The child took a deep breath.
"I wish..."
"For...family..."
"For the acceptance of others..."
"For...friends..."
"In the times to come."
The candles blew out all at once, and Harrison carefully cut a piece off the cake to give to James, who was ecstatic at the sight of food. An hour passed with Harold and Harrison enjoying the cake, having friendly banter in their head until they heard a screeching sound above them.
A barn owl flew from the sky, dropping something on top of James, who mewled in protest, and landing on the table. Harrison picked up the item that dropped on his cat to find an envelope made of parchment. It had wax seal depicting, according to his parents last Halloween, the Hogwarts coat of arms. Excitedly opening the envelope, the child took out two letters. One was an acceptance letter:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Harrison barely contained his excited squeal (he would never admit that) as he read the second letter.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration
by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions
by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions
This was it. They were going to Hogwarts. Glancing at the owl, Harrison realized that it was waiting for him to reply. Carefully ripping out a page from his journal, Harrison penned a reply.
To Whomever it May Concern,
I would be delighted in attending your school, however, I have no knowledge on how to go about getting all the items listed. Could I meet a representative at Baggie's Cafe in London at around 1:00 pm? That would be wonderful.
Yours Sincerely,
Harry Potter
Giving the letter to the owl, who was happily munching on some cake, Harrison once again sighed. As the owl flew away, the child leaned back, looking up at the sky.
"And so it begins. I wonder how long until someone finds out..."
A/N:
Oni: That's all for this update! Don't forget to review! Reviews are like cookies! I eat them up! Yeah I know I have a problem... Anyways, see you next time, my pretties!