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Chapter Four: My Pet Peeves

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Albus feverishly packed up his spilled bag. The seventh floor corridor was deserted now. A booming bell sounded somewhere far off to his right. Swearing under his breath, he sped up.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The leftover rainwater from previous days steadily dripped off a windowsill onto the floor. The rain had stopped yesterday, but it was still murky.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He stuffed the last quill inside and hurled the leather bag over his shoulder, setting off for Charms.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He was so distracted, he didn't even notice the vase perched precariously on top of a suit of armor; a giggle came from behind the visor, unbeknownst to Albus.

CLANG. Drip. CLASH.

With a bloodcurdling scream that echoed Albus's own, the suit of armor leaped at him. The large floral vase smashed at their feet. Albus backed up against the wall. The suit of armor advanced menacingly.

At the very last second, something colorful zoomed out of it. The armor fell on top of him. It was heavy and cold, pinning Albus.

Another bell sounded. He was late for class. He cursed Peeves a thousand times. It was the school poltergeist who had hidden inside the armor, he now realized.

He struggled for a few seconds, before giving up and going limp. Presently, he heard something.

"Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeves...PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVES..."

A spluttering and oily voice. "Oh, ah, your Baronship, sir, I mean, your-your Bloodiness, I mean...Mr. Baron."

"What is this ruckus, Peeeeeeeeeeves?"

"Erm, I, y'see, Mr. Bloodonship...oops...I, yes-"

"PEEEEEEEEEEVES!"

"Just a-a little joke, sir-my teensy weensy prank, you know..."

The other voice was rasping, slow, hoarse, croaky. "What have you DONE, here, Peeeeeeves?"

"Ah, me...it's, oh, you know, ol' Bloody, ol' pal...rrright. Just over there...my practical jokes-"

Next second, Albus felt the dismal sensation of plunging into icewater.

"Whooo is behind there, Peeeeeeves?

"Snotty, uh, Crackpot, um...What is the brat's-sorry, child's-name, I wonder? Oh yes: P-potter, Ally Potter, methinks, sir!"

"Weeeeeellll? Get her out!"

The second sensation was extremely different from the first, though still not pleasant, exactly. He was suddenly filled with a kind of wicked mirth, and his body positively vibrated with bouncy energy. Then his very essence seemed to split into a thousand pieces, each of them with their own personal super-roller-coaster-tunnel to ride through. Then the pieces banged together again, and he stumbled, standing now in the corridor again.

He was covered in some sort of horrible green glowing slime. He supposed this must be the side effect of hitching a ride with a poltergeist (though he had an odd feeling Peeves was doing nothing whatsoever to prevent it or remedy it). The Bloody Baron was surveying Albus in an appraising fashion. Finally, he spoke again.

"It is a very ugly girl, if girl indeed it is," said the Baron matter-of-factly. "Seems rather masculine to me."

"I am n-not a g-girl," Albus said shakily, yet indignantly.

The Baron looked slightly puzzled. "Peeves, what did you say its name was?"

"Er...Albus! Yes, that's right! Albus!"

Albus scowled. "If you don't mind, it's Al! Just Al."

"Well, I am sorry for your inconvenience, Albus," said the Bloody Baron. He glared at Peeves. "What have you got to say for yourself?" he hissed in a deadly tone.

Peeves gulped loudly. He tugged on his frilly ruff. "Ah...yes, of course. Um...apologize...most profusely, sir...G'bye!" he shouted finally and, with a nervous flip, rocketed out of sight.

"I shall essssssscort you to class," said the ghost impassively. "Tell them why you are late."

They walked (or in the Bloody Baron's case, glided) to the Charms classroom on the second floor. It was exceedingly awkward. Neither of them spoke. Albus was still covered in slime.

He was beginning to feel lightheaded. Every now and then, he found his eyelids drooping. He barely noticed that he was developing a fierce headache. Twice, he followed his ghost escort straight into a closed door. His skin was also getting a prickly, burning sensation on it, becoming more and more painful.

Suddenly, his entire body erupted in the same sort of mad, bouncy energy he had felt, only this time it was accompanied by pain. It was like he wasn't protected from the raw energy this time. Albus cried out, and then everything went black.


When he woke up, he was lying in a comfortable bed, with the blurry face of the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, above him.

She made a tutting noise. "That poltergeist! Second student this year! I swear he's getting bolder! Oh, heavens, you're awake!"

Albus's headache was worse now. Much, much worse. And his skin hurt too. He looked down at his arms. They were red and raw-looking.

"Er...what just happened?" he said groggily.

"What just happened?" repeated Madam Pomfrey. "You missed dinner, that's what just happened. But I daresay you were referring to what happened five hours ago?"

"Five hours?"

"Yes," she said in a weary manner. "It can have horrid effects on young people, that ectoplasm."

"Excuse me...Did you just say ectoplasma?"

"No, ectoplasm. It's what poltergeists are made of."

"But I thought they were incorporeal!"

"Has no one ever taught you this? Poltergeists are composed of fragments of pure spirit and energy, glued together by this ectoplasm substance."

"Oh..."

"You, my dear, were absolutely caked in the stuff. It's no wonder you fainted."

"So, this...ectoplastic-no, ectoplasm-stuff...is harmful?"

"It causes severe headache, disintegration of the skin, extreme loss of stamina, and sniffles."

"Ah. I see..."

Madam Pomfrey made another tutting noise. She swooped down upon a tall, narrow cup on his bedside table. It was filled with sloppy green liquid.

"Er..that's not more ectoplasm, is it?"

"Of course not!" she responded irritably. "It's the remedy. It'll make the headache worse, far worse, I'm afraid, so you'll need to stay here a couple of days. It will however, help to counteract the skin damage, to let it heal, and by nightfall your sniffles will be completely gone."

Albus sniffed. He took the bottle and drained the appalling medicine in two gulps that took great willpower. Madam Pomfrey surveyed him with her hands supporting her chin. "May I ask why you were inside darling Peeves?"

He choked. "How did you-?"

"There's positively no way you could have become so thoroughly drenched in that awful slime unless your being had bonded with his for a time."

Normally, Albus wouldn't have been exactly keen to relate the embarrassing tale of his being hoodwinked by a little floating man in a wretched bowtie, but he had an unusual relationship with Madam Pomfrey. Ever since the Quidditch match last year, when the Ravenclaw Seeker had wrecked into him up in the stands, he had been developing a steady-could it be called a friendship?-with her. He told her everything.

The school nurse pursed her lips. "Hmm...Well, I'm glad the Baron intervened, at any rate. Have you been having problems with Peeves this year before now?"

"No, not at all."

"Odd. Though, we can't be expected to question the spontaneity of a mad poltergeist, now can we?"

Albus chuckled. Then his face grew thoughtful. "Madam Pomfrey...never mind." He thought better of asking her advice. She was a teacher; he knew what her reply would be.

"You want to ask about your sibling."

He stared at her. "Uh..."

"That Rose...She's been worrying me for a while now."

Albus nearly choked again. "Rose? But she-there's no-she's...not my sister. She's a cousin."

"Yes, that's right."

"Er, what's wrong with her?"

"She's been up here numerous times, and she's sent others here as well-I believe she's been dueling frequently. And by all reports, she hasn't been handing in her homework. That's not at all how I know her: she's usually an exemplary student."

Somehow, the school nurse seemed altogether more knowledgeable than she should be. Albus just added another trouble to his mental list.


Nor did the list get any shorter in the next week. He was let out of the infirmary two days later, only to be greeted by the torments of Slytherins.

"Oooooo, baby Potty's feeling better, then?" jeered Lyricke Zabini as he entered the Great Hall for dinner (yes, her first name actually was Lyricke).

"How many days did you spend crying over your booboo, eh?" sneered Tiberius Parkinson.

"Sure you don't need another week, Potter? Sure you've recovered from the mean old goo?" leered Scorpius Malfoy.

To Albus's immense disquiet, Rose Weasley suddenly pulled out her wand and had to be restrained by her brother Hugo, gnashing her teeth at Malfoy. Her leather bag spilled a few scraps of parchment and an inkwell.

Albus hastened forward to prevent the inkwell from running all over a small list. He was too late, unfortunately, and only one word remained untarnished after the spill. It wasn't even a word, really; all it said was, "M.P.P."

"What's that stand for?" he asked curiously.

"It's nothing," said Rose hurriedly, tucking it away.

"Hmm," mused Hugo enthusiastically, "Then I guess we'll just have to guess! Uh...Does the M stand for Malfoy?"

"No."

"Suuuuuuuuure it doesn't. Let's see...Malfoy...Pell...Poe...Par-Parkinson! Parkinson?"

Rose shook her head.

"Mary's Pen-Pal! My Pet Peeves! Moldy Pocket People! Many Pigs Perspire!"

"Okay, now you're just being ridiculous."

She walked away.

Hugo looked at Albus in surprise. "She really isn't going to tell us, is she?"

Albus shrugged. "Guess not."

Malfoy looked shaken from Rose's uncharacteristic show of aggression, but composed himself swiftly.

"Need another Weasley girl to back you up, Potter? I think there's a first-year who's got it in for you."

Tiberius laughed cruelly. "Don't hurt his wittle feelings, Scorpius! He's depressed, I think. After all, how could he not be, with a name like Albus?"

"Shut up, Tiberius," said Hugo. "What kind of a name is that, anyway? Your mother didn't like you much, did she?-And who can blame her?"

"I think they're both prat-names," said a new voice.

Albus, Hugo, Malfoy, and Parkinson whirled around, snarling.

It was Earl Smith. "What?" he said. "Going to hex me?" he asked in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it sort of tone.

"Yup." Hugo pulled out his wand. "Which would you prefer-Jelly-Legs, or Tooth-Taffy?"

"Now, now, what's going on here?"

Neville was striding toward them. "Put that wand away, Hugo!"

Hugo, looking sullen, pocketed his wand and sat down across from Rose. "C'mon, Al."

Neville bent forward. "How's Lily?" he murmured. "She seems really put out. Is it about her new House?"

Albus shrugged, wishing everybody would stop making such a fuss over Lily being in Hufflepuff.

"And, a little tip-next time you're covered in eerie glowing slime put on you by a conniving specter, be sure and get it off."


"No, James."

"Aw, come on, Al! It'll be fun!"

"I've told you three million times, no. Sneaking into the forest for a laugh is suicide."

"Heeheeheeheeheehee!"

"Oh no. Not Peeves again."

Albus and James were in the dungeons, having just completed their final lesson of the next day. James had struck up the argument afresh, hoping to catch his brother unawares. Presently, they were interrupted by Peeves the Poltergeist materializing out of a torch bracket, snuffing the flames out. He was holding an umbrella. He opened it above their heads and out spilled a dozen owl droppings.

"Ack!" yelled Albus furiously. "Oh, come on!"

"Peeves," said James in a commanding voice, "Stop!"

Peeves dropped the umbrella and sprang into a salute.

Albus gaped in astonishment back and forth between the two of them. "Buh, you...how-?"

"Peeves used to respect Uncle George like this, too. I reckon he listens to me almost as much as the Bloody Baron. He's practically my pet."

"How?"

"Well, I'm a Marauder, en't I?"

Albus snorted. James had been calling himself a 'Marauder' ever since their father had given him the legendary Marauders' Map. Albus had inherited an Invisibility Cloak, and Lily a Golden Snitch.

Peeves was still suspended in the air, perfectly stationary and quiet-something Albus had never seen before.

"Peeves sort of admires my troublemaking skill. He thinks we should see the Forbidden Forest."

"He's a POLTERGEIST!"

"So?"

"So, he'd love to see us get into trouble."

"Trust me, he's pretty benign with me."

"Not with me. Or anyone else on this planet."

"Whatever. Peeves, why don't you stay and talk to Albus. I gotta run!"

"Wait! Peeves and I, we, er, aren't on very good terms."

James made a dismissive face. "Pshaw!"

Then he was gone.

Peeves swooped over to Albus, rapping him on the head with the pink umbrella for good measure. "Listen, kid," he said, trying to sound like a mentor (somehow he wasn't pulling it off), "Ya got any teachers you don't like?"

Albus didn't answer.

"Well, just imagine the pranks you could pull on 'em with the stuff you get from the Forbidden Forest. Plus you get the satisfaction of just deceiving them. Come on, why don't you give it a try? Just for laughs!"

"I'm not going into this argument with you, too."

Peeves was indignant. "And why not? I can steer people straight if I want to! What, you don't think I'm worth listening to? Well, I for one think it's a brilliant idea."

"You're not very persuasive, are you, Peeves?"

"Nope!" he cackled happily.

Albus frowned. He had just noticed something-something oddly familiar.

"Peeves," he said slowly, "Where did you get that umbrella?"


"THA' RUDDY POLTERGEIST!" Hagrid bellowed. "So that's where me wand wen'!"

"You knew your wand was missing, and you still didn't go asking around?" said Mugley, the school Caretaker.

"No!" Hagrid growled defensively. "I didn' know. I though' it was somewhere 'round the 'ouse. I was lookin' fer it."

"Don't worry, Hagrid," assured Mugley, flashing a brilliant smile, "I'll get it back in a sec."

Taylor Mugley, as Caretaker, couldn't be more different from his predecessor Argus Filch. Mr. Filch had died mysteriously at an old age (it was rumored that his carcass was still rotting in a secret passage behind a mirror-nobody used that passage anymore). Professor McGonagall hired Mugley over the summer after Filch's disappearance. He was friendly, with perfect teeth and blond hair. At an age of about twenty, most of the older female students had a crush on him, despite his rather unsavory surname. For reasons not entirely clear, he had been hired in spite of his youth and inexperience. Allegedly, he knew practically all there was to know about Hogwarts from his days as a student himself there; yes, he had attended Hogwarts as a boy, by contrast to the former Caretaker, who was a Squib.

Presently, he left Hagrid's hut, leaving Hagrid and Albus to their tea.

"You know," said Hagrid with a nostalgic, dreamy look on his face, "I remember a time when I wasn't even allowed ter use tha' wand. Tha' was before we 'ad Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister, yeh see. Expelled fer a crime I didn' even commit, an' me wand snapped in two. I kept the pieces, o' course, an'..." Hagrid was looking slightly sheepish now. He gave Albus a sly smile from behind his bushy beard. "Well, poin' is, they let me off righ' away, now Shacklebolt's in office."

"Suppose we ought to head up to the feast about now. Wouldn't want to miss it, would we?" Albus drained his cup. When glancing down into it, he saw a most peculiar shape in the tea leaves and did a double take. No, no, it couldn't be. It must have just been a fluke. He'd heard about tea-leaf signs from Cedric, who took Divination, and...

"Yea. An' we ker see wha' Mr. Mugley does ter Peeves, too, o' course, if yer like."

They both grinned.


"Aw, come on, now, Peeves, give it back to him."

"WON'T!"

"Peeves. Am I gonna have to call the Bloody Baron again?"

Peeves blew a huge raspberry at Mugley, who sighed.

Hagrid chuckled. "It's the only job 'e ever 'as trouble wiff," he said in an undertone to Albus. "Just don' intimidate him 's much's ol' Filch used to."

Albus snorted. From what he'd heard, Filch had never been able to intimidate Peeves in the slightest. Far from it-the old Caretaker used to be Peeves's favorite target, so his father told him.

"I'm sorry, Peeves, but you leave me with no other option. Espectre Respecte!" He directed his wand at Peeves, who let out a curse before exploding into a slime-bomb of ectoplasm. The umbrella and Peeves's walking stick and hat all fell to the flagstone floor with a clatter.

The three of them siphoned away the ectoplasm with their wands (Hagrid having retrieved his) and parted ways: Mugley went back to his office and Hagrid and Albus went to the Great Hall. Albus looked back at the hat and cane before the door closed, thinking to himself, It might actually be nice to be admired like James, like a daredevil. And it would certainly be nice to have that kind of influence over the school poltergeist; it would have been a cinch for James to get that wand back.