The Day The Dursleys Came To Hogwarts Chapter 28

By Ordinaryguy2

Hogwarts

On the fourth floor, the young ghost Myrtle was having a frustrating conversation with several of the portraits on the wall.

"But I don't see why you can't communicate with the portraits in the Headmaster's office?" Myrtle said, sounding more and more perplexed.

An older aristocratic man wearing a great deal of purple ran a wet finger over the rim of his glass of wine, causing it to give off an unusual resonating sound. "We are forbidden to go into any of the portraits in the Headmaster's office, young lady."

Myrtle pouted. "That's… disappointing."

"True," said a middle-aged blonde woman in a portrait with a library setting. "If it was later in the week, that is when one of the former headmasters comes down to visit me and my books." If her smile was any indicator, Myrtle would guess that the woman's guest mostly came to see her, and not her many books.

Myrtle looked up in hope. "Do you know of any of the other former headmasters or headmistresses that might be out and about in the castle proper right now?"

All of the portraits shook their heads, including one of a young toddler playing with a stick in a pool.

The young ghost stuck her lip out. She had promised Draco that she would try and get word out to anyone that could come aid them from the attacking squibs. Her first idea was to get one of the portraits of the old headmasters and headmistresses to use any other portrait connections they had to get word of the danger at Hogwarts to someone in the Ministry. Her second idea wasn't possible since she didn't have physical form to send an owl carried message to anyone. Likewise, she couldn't use a floo since she couldn't touch the floo powder or even gain access to any areas that had fireplaces, due to the vigilant protections to keep Peeves away from any active fireplaces.

Another portrait had been speaking as Myrtle reflected on her situation. He was an older gentleman in a light blue dress robe with reddish hair that was almost equally covered in white. "-since even the castle's house-elves are bound by the commands of the squib Kingson."

A thought suddenly crossed Myrtle's mind. She wasn't sure how plausible it was, but she didn't think that it could hurt to try. "Excuse me," she said to the portraits so as to not appear rude to them.

Floating to the center of the hall, she spoke with a loud, clear voice. "I need to talk with a Malfoy house-elf!" After a moment she added, "Please."

There was an abrupt popping sound and there stood a fearful house-elf wearing several pieces of stained doilies that had been stitched together. The house-elf was hunched over as it scanned the area before locking it's bulbous eyes on Myrtle. "Did dead girl be calling for a Malfoy house-elf?"

Myrtle gave an excited twirl in the air. Her idea worked! Draco would be so proud of her!

She floated down so that she was almost eye-to-eye with the house-elf. "I have a message that needs to be delivered most urgently!"

"Family house-elves is not to be coming to Hogwarties. Against rules," the house-elf blurted out becoming more and more nervous. "Bouty should be going. Still many things to do for ball at Bouty's family's manor."

"Draco and the other students are in extreme danger!" Myrtle blurted out before the house-elf could pop away.

Bouty brought his hands up to his mouth in fright. "Young master is in danger!"

"All the students are!" she went on. "Even the teachers! The headmaster was already taken down before I was sent by Draco to get help!"

"How does Bouty know that dead girl is telling true words?"

She blinked in surprise at that. Fortunately, she only had to give it a moment of thought. "You should be able to tell that the wards of the castle have been given to someone else."

The house-elf let his magic reach out to the castle to confirm what Myrtle was telling him. Once he did, he let out a gasp. "What is dead girl's message?" the servant asked in desperation.

"Hogwarts has been taken over by squibs who are using magic removing weapons! Potter's muggle uncle has somehow claimed authority over the castle! It has something to do with his wife being a descendant of Ravenclaw and his nephew being named the new Lord of Slytherin! Everything and everyone serving the castle must obey this Dursley! Please, you have to save us!"

Bouty nodded so fast it looked like his ears were trying to take flight. "Bouty go! Bouty tell master right away!" Then he popped away.

Myrtle wrung her hands fretfully as she tried to determine what she should do next.

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MALFOY MANOR

"The Norwegian Minister laughed so hard that he dropped his lutefisk down the front of his wife's dress!"

Lucius gave a polite chuckle to Cornelius's story as he looked over the room to see if all of his guests had arrived. There was always a few that choose to come fashionably late, sometime competing to be the last to arrive. To circumvent this trend, his wife had taken to politely expressing her view at several social gatherings that when people arrive very late to a social gathering that it is rude and no longer fashionable. That now had several people in high society trying to determine at what point that they can arrive at to still be fashionably late but not insult their hosts or other guests. About half an hour after the start of the ball showed a sudden huge influx of guests that amused him, but caused his wife to scowl slightly at the sight of her guests tripping over each other as they arrived one after the other, and sometimes five at once. That last bit had been a combination of the Parkinsons, Diggorys and Horace Slughorn. His wife was sure to have words with him later about him laughing at the situation, much to his regret.

He saw his wife, Narcissa, was currently having a conversation with Chlamydia Blishwick. Hopefully it wasn't another attempt by Chlamydia to encourage them to sign a betrothal agreement so that her daughter, Syphylias, a Second-year at Hogwarts, could marry Draco when she came of age. It was bad enough that he had dated Chlamydia back when they were students at Hogwarts. That is until he needed to get treated in the hospital wing at Hogwarts for a certain itching, burning sensation. He let out an internal groan since he knew he'd hear all about it from his wife after the party.

Still, he considered himself fortunate that his wife was talking to him. Ever since that fiasco when Potter had the remains of the basilisk brought up from the Chamber of Secrets, she had been hexing him on sight for insisting that Draco stay at school during the attacks. He'd been able to finally coax her to be civil when he explained that he hadn't known that the creature petrifying students was a basilisk. It didn't help matters that he also mentioned that he thought that whatever was happening would only affect the mudbloods. Fortunately, with the holidays coming, and the annual ball to organize, he had been forgiven, or possibly been given a reprieve.

He had just noticed an escalating argument between Walden Macnair and Thorfinn Rowle when an unexpected popping noise announced a house-elf right beside him.

"Master! Grave news! Very gravey is the news I be having!" Bouty wailed to his master.

He looked down at Bouty with a bit of annoyance and disgust. He had taught his house-elves to not be seen during social events unless called for or there was an emergency. And since the house-elf had announced it as being bad news, he knew it must be important. If it turned out otherwise, Bouty would be trimming his ears with a hedge trimmer later that evening.

"Sounds important," Cornelius commented before taking a sip of his wineglass filled with a 75-year-old scotch he had grown particularly fond of when visiting the Malfoys.

Lucius nodded to the Minister. "Pardon me, Cornelius. I should take a moment for some privacy to hear what this is all about."

"By all mean," Cornelius said as he sampled an olive. "Let me know if there is anything I can do."

Lucius nodded his thanks, before moving across the room to the hall so that he could go to his study, with the wretched Bouty following obediently behind him.

He was halfway across the room when he noticed that his wife was moving to join him. He silently prayed that nothing had happened to Draco. He didn't think his testicles could stand another cursing from his wife.

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THE GREAT HALL

Due to the announcement of the abomination being the ghost of Voldemort, the Hall had been pandemonium. Once things had calmed down, Kingson ordered his guards to leave the Great Hall so that the teachers and students could conduct a brief meeting to determine what actions they would like to take.

Petunia Dursley had been brought in from a room outside the hall where she had been kept separate from everyone else. Upon seeing her husband, she began cursing at him and even made to physically attack him only to be stopped by some of the squib guards.

It was a tossup for Harry as to which sight confused him more. The guards looking sympathetic toward his aunt. The anger his aunt was directing at his uncle. Or the look of bewilderment on his uncle's dull face.

"He's clearly been doused with some kind of potion to control him," Harry heard Hermione say quietly.

Dudley, who was sitting just before them turned to them abruptly. "Are you sure?" he asked hopefully.

"The signs are all there," she said compassionately. "Unfortunately, that doesn't really help us right now."

The squib guards continued to pull Petunia into the Great Hall despite her weak struggles. It was only when she saw Dudley that she changed her direction, and the guards let her go the rest of the way on her own.

Dudley had had to catch her as she threw herself at him where he was sitting Indian style on the floor. Even then he'd almost fell backwards.

"I didn't know! I didn't know!" she continued to sob onto his shoulder.

Dudley looked scared, having never seen his mother like this before. With just a bit of instinct, he held her and patted her back. Lavender helped by gently combed Petunia's hair with her fingers and giving Dudley a reassuring look, despite the wetness in her own eyes.

With tear-filled eyes, Petunia looked up from her son's shoulder directly into her nephew's eyes. "I didn't know, Harry!" she managed to say between sobs. "I swear I didn't know he was going to-to claim everything like that. I didn't even know that he even could."

Harry was grimacing slightly, but nodded. He was still feeling exhausted due to having been drained of the vast majority of his magic. Also, the many bruises that had been caused by his aunt Marge shooting him with paintgun pellets while standing right over him stung horribly, even more so when he moved. While Hermione had been able to pour some of her magic into him, she had been unable to do much for his bruises. The magic inhibiting cuffs not only blocked him from accessing magic, but it also slowed down the magic that would refill his core. He'd been fortunate that Hermione had been able to push some of her magic into him so that his magic core was filling at a faster rate, making him less tired than he would have been normally.

"It's… okay," he found himself saying. "We'll figure out what is going on and fix it. We just have to deal with this 'abomination' thing first."

"Abomination?" Petunia wiped her tears with a handkerchief thoughtfully provided by Lavender.

Before anyone could explain the matter to Petunia, they were interrupted by a loud voice throughout the Great Hall.

"How is this supposed to… Oh, I see." Professor McGonagall, now sitting in a chair, looked over the megaphone she was holding in wonder. "And are you sure this is a muggle device? They really should cover things like this in the Muggle Studies classes."

One of the guards explained a few more things about the megaphone before turning to leave. McGonagall nodded tiredly as the last of the squibs left the Great Hall. When the doors closed, murmuring rose from the bound and cowed students, rising to a level that made it hard for the deputy headmistress to be heard, even with a megaphone.

"Enough!" Hermione shouted after casting a wandless Sonorous charm on herself. "If we are to determine anything as a group, we need to allow Professor McGonagall to be heard and lead us through the decision making process! We are all scared, tired and sore, so we just have to deal with it if we want things to improve soon. So listen up already!"

Hermione locked eyes with McGonagall, and nodded for her to go on.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Remind me it award you some house points when this is over."

The older witch leaned back tiredly in her chair, and took in a calming breath. "The facts that we currently know about this abomination are this. Somehow, after Mr. Potter destroyed the shade of Voldemort two years ago in the infamous Chamber of Secrets-"

"It said it was the memory of Tom Riddle," Harry spoke up loudly. "That's Voldemort's real name back when he was a student here."

McGonagall nodded tiredly, wincing slightly at the mention of You-Know-Who's real name. She could see the panic building in the eyes of her many charges, and decided she needed to go on with what she was saying. "Regardless, we do know it is some aspect of the Dark Lord. We also know that it has the ability to consume ghosts, and is growing more powerful."

"Can't we leave?" called out an unknown student that was farther back. "Will the squibs let us go if we are in such a dire threat?"

McGonagall looked down wearily at her megaphone before raising it again. "I'm afraid not. We are their best bargaining chip to getting fairer rights for squibs. Even now, they are unwilling to let us slip away from them. They have tried to assure me that they are doing everything they can to make sure that You-Know-Who's ghost will not get to us."

"How can you expect us to trust the word of a squib?" Draco practically leapt to his feet. "Especially after this stunt they pulled here tonight?"

Minerva nodded, too tired to reprehend him at the moment. "I understand. I have my own reservations about helping them to. However, You-Know-How, or at least a ghost monster version of him, I believe is the bigger threat to all of us here today. That being the case, Kingson has agreed to immediately release all of the First and Second Year students if some of us will help the squibs defeat this thing."

Murmurs again filled the Great Hall, and this time McGonagall let them have some time to talk amongst themselves.

Harry managed to get to his feet with Hermione's help. Dudley helped by holding his mother, who had started to weep quietly. He took a moment to look down the line of students who were spread down the wall that the squibs had placed them at. He saw his godfather down on the far end. Sirius managed a weak wave but looked too pale and weak to do much of anything. Most of the other students, including those from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, still seemed jittery and in shock. It didn't help that most were also suffering from magic deficiency due to having most of their magic sucked out of their bodies. There were a few, like Madam Pomfrey and Penelope Clearwater, who were managing to use what strength they had to help others. He also caught Draco's eye, and was surprised to see that that he, like Hermione, had managed to escape having their magic drained. Harry wasn't sure if anyone else had been able to do so, but it did raise his hopes.

"What is this Kingson's word worth?" he asked, directing his question to McGonagall.

"Worth?" Draco practically yelled from where he'd been sitting. "He's a filthy squib! How can you even think his word is worth anything?" Several students, not just Slytherins, raised their voices in agreement.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he looked at Draco. "So you're saying a squib's word is as valid as that of a Malfoy?"

There was a collective gasp in the Great Hall. So much so that Neville would have sworn that the air pressure had changed. Luna would later tell him that it did, so much so that a majority of the Wrackspurts that had initially fled the Great Hall during the squib attack, had been sucked back into the room.

"Enough! We have enough to worry about without you two butting heads with each other as if you were young goats!" McGonagall's voice, with it strong Scottish undertones, cut through the tension, but did not remove it from the room. "We do not have time to deal with your petty squabbles with each other! There is literally a monster abroad in the school and most of us are currently defenseless! We need to put our heads together so we can rectify this matter!"

Draco was not about to let the matter rest. "These squibs," began Draco, "came here into our school, captured us, and made demands that – that are ridiculous to the point of being outrageous! How can we just ignore it?" The agreement sounds coming around him was like a balm to Draco's soul. After having been rejected by much of the school for several weeks because of the whole Grim incident down in the Chamber of Secrets, he was regaining the respect due him. All he had to do was place these uppity squibs back under his heels where they belong.

Hermione shook her head in disagreement. "Taking back control over the castle will not let us stop this ghost of- of- Voldemort." She took in a calming breath after saying the Dark Lord's name. A majority of those in the Great Hall still shuddered at the mention of the dreaded name, including Draco. Harry, however, was immune to such frivolities.

Harry stood straighter as he a spoke, purposefully ignoring the magic-inhibiting cuffs he wore. "We need to determine what we need to deal with first, as well as how."

Most people automatically began forming small groups as to determine what course of action should be taken, or if they could take any action at all. Thus very few people witnessed Luna Lovegood stand up.

"Excuse me, Harry Potter. But there is a common saying that I find fitting for right now. It goes 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Now, I believe what we need to determine today is which of the two enemies is worse. The squibs who are trying to force the means of bettering their lot in life? Or the haunting murderous aspect of the very Dark Lord who nearly decimated the Wizarding World?"

The Great Hall was quiet as they considered Luna's words. True, most felt anger at the squibs for ruining the Yule Ball, as well as embarrassment and fear for having been defeated by them. Many had been raised to despise squibs, so the very thought of raising their elevation in society went against the grain of everything they believed in. (If the squibs were raised higher, then who would fill that lower empty rung?)

As for the specter of He-Who-Should-Not-Be Names, no one wanted to admit that some aspect of him was back. Even with the admission of the fact by Nearly-Headless Nick, many wished to scoff that it was some misunderstanding on the part of the ghost. How could something consume ghosts? It just couldn't be possible. Surely not.

And that was why many were floored when McGonagall awarded Ravenclaw fifty points for Luna providing such sterling wisdom in such a dire moment.

McGonagall spoke into the megaphone which seemed to increase her Scottish accent. "I believe we are not under any immediate threat by Kingson and the squibs; they have shown no sign of lethal intent, and have actually been careful to see that little harm was done to us. They need us safe in order to negotiate with the Ministry." She paused a moment to choose her next words carefully. "This 'abomination' that Sir Nicholas brings us warning of, we can't ignore the possibility of the threat that such a thing poses to us all. Whatever it is, (and I do hope it is not something relating to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named), it is evidently dangerous. If it can consume ghosts, then it may try to go after our souls as well."

Fear in the Great Hall suddenly climbed to a new high as the students suddenly realized just how defenseless they were now that most of their magic had been drained from them. Several students started to cry out hysterically, and a few even fainted.

"Quiet!" Hermione shouted, her Sonorous charm made her easily heard over the panicking students. "It we are going to come out on top on this, we will need to strive to behave in the manor of the Houses we were put into! Gryffindors, be brave! Be strong for everyone! Slytherins, use your cunning! Find us a way through this! Ravenclaws, use your intellect! Has something like this creature every been heard of before? If so, how do we defeat it? If not, then how can we safely learn about it to get rid of it? Hufflepuffs, you have the hardest task of all! Help us all pull together with your teamwork skills! Students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, we can't do this without you! You come from different schools and have knowledge that our school doesn't cover! Help us if you have any idea what this thing is! We all need to work together on this for this to work!"

She paused for breath. And nearly jumped out of her skin when Harry started clapping next to her. McGonagall quickly joined in followed by most everyone in the Great Hall. Hermione would later learn that she had also been awarded fifty points for her rallying speech.

Once the noise subsided, it took everything she had not to fold up into Harry's arms in embarrassment even though her blush was more than a clear enough indicator. Draco and a few others like Cormac McLaggen still looked less than pleased with the thought of everyone pulling together. Even Ron looked skeptically at those others around him that were not from Gryffindor, though Harry was glad that he was keeping quiet about his reservations.

"Very good job, Miss Granger," McGonagall said from her seat. The professor looked as if she had just played half a dozen quidditch matches one after another and was about to drop to her feet. The only thing keeping her in the land of the awake was her sheer will to see her students through these events.

Hermione blushed again at the praise from her favorite teacher. Harry took her hand and gave it a slight squeeze. "It's an excellent start," he said. He leaned in close to Hermione and could smell her light perfume.

Minerva gave a small cough to interrupt the two love sick teens. She wished their Yule Ball had not turned out to be such a disaster. "It seems we have all agreed that this ghostly matter is the more crucial matter. I should go let Kingson know our decision."

"Professor," Hermione began. "I know you said that they would release the First and Second Years if we agreed. Even so, see if they will let the Third Years go as well. I'm sure they are expecting us to haggle some so they might already be prepared to do just that. After all, it is still the holidays, and most of the younger years are not even at Hogwarts unless they were a date for the ball."

Petunia looked up from her crying, and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. "Yes, please. We need to get as many as we can to safety."

Hermione nodded. "I was thinking maybe one or two of the prefects could lead the younger students into Hogsmeade. Probably The Three Broomsticks is open. Madam Rosmerta should be more than happy to welcome them in from the cold. From there they could contact the Ministry and their parents."

Minerva nodded smugly to her prize student. "You are definitely the best of your generation. Anyone saying otherwise is an utter idiot and git." She chuckled softly in her hand. "My, I am so exhausted I find myself unable to carefully watch over my comments." Have said her part, she turned and headed to the main entrance to seek out Kingson.

Hermione stared after her teacher, shocked and pleased by the praise.

Harry grinned and kissed her on her forehead. "I always said you were her favorite."

She smiled sweetly back at him, but then nodded over at someone approaching.

"Pardon my intrusion, Lord Slytherin," spoke the ghost of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. "I do thank you for speaking up in favor of the alarm that I brought to this hall. It is rare when ghosts are actually at peril. Even rarer is it when people even concern themselves with the wellbeing of those who continue on even after dying."

"That thing that is part of V-Voldemort-" She stopped to try suppress a shudder. "It is not just a threat to you, Sir Nicolas," Hermione said politely. "Though the ghosts of the castle matter to us, too. In fact, if you wouldn't mind, could you send for the Grey Lady and the Fat Friar. It would very likely help us to know how they trapped the abomination the first time."

Nearly-Headless Nick nodded, his head nearly starting to tumble down before one of his hands managed to brace it in time. "It shall be done, my lady." He then floated slightly to Harry to address him directly. "Lord Slytherin, as much as I wish I did not have to, I will have to relay a report of what I have recently become aware of to Mr. Kingson due to your uncle accepting full guardianship over you. However, I want to report what that is to you first."

Harry and Hermine shared an uneasy look. "And what exactly are you going to report?" Harry asked, steeling his voice, preparing himself for more betrayal.

The apparition of a man raised his arm and pointed to a tapestry on the far wall. "Behind that wall, I sense that several ghosts are beginning to rise."

"So someone died after all," came an unexpected and unwelcome voice.

Draco stood there looking smug, glad to have overheard something. There was also a bit of fear, too, but he was pressing onward regardless. He had come over quietly to try learn whether or not the Gryffindor ghost had learned that he had been the one that had sent someone down during the Yule Ball to learn what the ghosts had been secretly guarding. It was a pleasant bonus to hear that there had been some deaths during the squib attack. Depending on who had died, his father could use this information for political and monetary gain.

Hermione spoke up before Harry could start an argument with the Slytherin. "Draco, we don't know what happened back there, so if you know what is good for you, you will not spread wild rumors about it."

Draco snorted. "Fine, but I want to see for myself what is beyond that wall. Or I tell everyone right now."

The three began walking towards the tapestry at a slow pace for Harry, with Nearly-Headless Nick following alongside them.

"There was once a corridor there for the kitchen staff to bring the meals," explained Nick. "As I was told after I had become a ghost, that once house-elves had begun being put to use at the castle, the corridor was no longer needed. So it was turned into one of the castle's many secret corridors as people forgot about it."

Draco snorted with disdain. "Mad-Eye knew about it. I saw him abscond out of here during the skirmish behind that tapestry. It's probably him that died in there. So much for the squibs trying not to kill anyone."

Hermione bit her lip in worry, and cast a nervous glance at Harry. Harry, though tired, chose to just keep walking towards the tapestry of five young ladies reading scrolls. Or maybe, it was just the fact that Harry still felt exhausted from having his magic drained. Either way, she would be there to support him.

At the tapestry, Harry held back a corner of it so that could tap the stones that Nick pointed to in the correct pattern.

As the secret entrance swung inwards, the ghost and three students were met with a gruesome sight.

"Dear God!" Hermione clutched at Harry's shoulder. Harry stood and just stared at the bodies that had been cut to pieces and the bloody floor. Harry didn't even say anything when he noticed that Draco was clutching to his other shoulder.

"Merlin's beard," Draco could be heard saying as he released Harry's shoulder and stumbled to his knees.

Harry was breathing through his mouth, not wanting to take in the smell of the blood in the corridor. After a few moments to let the shock ease off, Harry began purposefully taking in what it was that he was seeing. "They are all male adults. Their hair is long and unkempt, but in a stylish fashion. Their clothing is dark leather with worn black robes. I see one severed hand holding a wand; otherwise it looks like they didn't have enough warning to defend themselves. Probably taken completely by surprise."

"How-how can squibs do that?" Draco finally managed to ask. "They're supposed to be weak and pathetic."

"They're a band," Harry went on, purposefully ignoring Draco. "Probably hired by Dumbledore to play here tonight. See, there is part of a guitar, and a bass. And that one is holding bagpipes."

"That's Myron Wagtail! The lead singer for The Weird Sisters!" gasped Draco. "These are The Weird Sisters!"

"Sisters?" Nick asked as he floated closer to fresh corpses. "They seem to be all male to me."

"It's-" Harry struggled for a moment to find his voice. "It's the name of the band, kay. Um, my favorite wizarding band actually."

"The squibs will pay for this!" Draco muttered, his fear and shock being turned to anger. The Weird Sisters wasn't just Harry's favorite band. In fact, most of the student body would be devastated by this news.

Hermione's voice cut through the tension. "It wasn't the squibs. Look at the cuts. That's spell fire; it's too precise to be anything else."

Draco jumped to his feet and rounded on the witch. "Then who-" Then froze as realization sunk into his thick skull as he remembered just who he had seen flee through the secret passageway during the fight with the squibs. "Oh. Bloody. Hell. Mad-Eye has truly gone mad."

Hermione looked to Harry expecting him to try and defend their Defense teacher.

Harry's face, however, looked grim. "I know we don't have all the facts, Hermione. But, right now, it doesn't look good for Mad-Eye."

"Nick?" Hermione spoke to the ghostly apparition. "You said that they were going to rise again as ghosts, yes?"

"Yes, child," the spook answered.

"Then when can we ask them about how they died?"

Nick nodded, and quickly caught his head from falling. "I see where you are going with this. Unfortunately, ghosts are not as quick to form as you might think. Some say it has to do with magical energies in the area, specifically so they can generate a substance from it to form our bodies."

"Ectoplasm?" she asked.

Nearly-Headless Nick beamed down at her. "Intelligent girl you have here, Lord Slytherin. You are very fortunate that she favors you." Seeing that he was making the young couple uneasy, he decided to switch back to the topic she had asked. "There is a transition time for a new ghost to realize what has become of them. Some new to their deathly state refuse to believe it. Others just bemoan their fate, refusing to accept the new opportunities that-"

Draco rolled his eyes at the ghost blathering. "How soon?" Draco insisted with a growl.

"Oh, maybe a week or three; though I do know a member of the Royal Hunt that said it took him over two months, but he's a bit of a braggart. It's never been easy to determine just how soon a ghost will rise after their death. I'm surprised no one has bothered to do a study on the matter. But then, the living rarely want to reflect on things tied to their mortality. Shame really. There is so much the living can learn from us."

"Nick?" Harry spoke.

"Yes, Lord Slytherin?" The ghost looked down at him from where he floated over the bodies.

"Perhaps you should go tell Kingson about this." Harry began gently pulling Hermione out of the corridor before she could become sick. Draco followed slowly behind them, keeping his eyes on the dead bodies until Harry closed the secret passage.

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AUTHOR'sNoTeS:

I wanted to make this chapter longer, but I think everyone has already waited to long for me to post this.

It's been a busy time for me. I've had a temporary nerve stimulator put into my spine to help block my pain. Results were good, so now we just have to have the permanent one place in. It's a painful process, but I hope to get more out of life with it blocking some of my pain. I also had a tooth pulled. It had to be sectioned into two parts, and then each sectioned extracted separately. So not fun.

Anyway, I hope all of you out there have been having a better time than I have.

Review please!

Next chapter: Marge and the abomination of Voldemort will be playing a bigger role.