Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.
Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.
Written for the Harry Potter Halloween Collection Competition
Prompt: (word) Creepy
(creature/being) Ghost
Jackals
Barty shuddered as he walked through the halls of Hogwarts. Dear Merlin, he had never found them more creepy than at that particular time.
The Yule Ball had been announced just hours before and every female student of the school had suddenly turned into jackals. Giggling, tittering, packs of jackals that eyed the male student body like a juicy piece of meat.
Barty had even seen the Fat Friar float the other way when he had come across a pack of four stalking the Hufflepuff Champion. Barty had raised an eyebrow at the Friar and the ghost had snorted at him. "I may be a Hufflepuff," the Friar had said, "but I am not stupid enough to get involved in that mess. It's a kind of 'save yourself, if you can' situation." Barty had grimaced and nodded solemnly, completely agreeing with the ghost.
Barty hastened his pace when he saw two different packs eying up the same pray. He did not want to be around when those two packs clashed, thank you very much.
When he closed the door to his quarters behind himself he actually slumped a little in relief. He was safe, he had made it.
He was just about to slump onto one of the comfortable armchairs by the fire when the door to his rooms banged opened and was slammed back shut in short order.
He started at the panting teen leaning against it, raising an eyebrow.
Harry took a deep breath, sliding to the floor and staying leaned against the door. "They'll never look for me here," Harry muttered, sounding utterly delighted, and Barty snorted.
"Problem with the adoring fans?"
Harry glared at him for a moment, then his eyes lit up and that glare turned into a devious smirk. Harry got to his feet slowly, his smirk turning gleeful when he saw the apprehensive frown starting to appear on Barty's face.
"Just think, Barty, I'll spend the whole night with one of them in my arms." Then the little minx flounced out of the room.
And, well, if the shelf next to Barty exploded shorty after in a show of uncontrollable rage, then there was no one there to mention it.