This is going to take a bit of explaining, so forgive me.
This is inspired by an RPG I once belonged to in which I had a character, a Slytherin girl in the same year as Harry Potter. She had been a loner amongst her peers and not very liked in her house... but found solace and friendship in her childhood friend, Blaise Zabini. He was stripped from her on Christmas of their sixth year, when his whole family was killed because his father, a Death Eater, had failed an assassination attempt on Dumbledore's life.
I took the last name Moon which had been flung into the books and gave her a first name, a personality... I gave her life. Then things in the game began to change, and I no longer saw eye to eye with the moderator... and when it became obvious we couldn't reconcile our differences... I left the game. It was very hard... I didn't want to give up my character... but I was not going to change her and destroy who she was for the sake of keeping her in said game. Now... I knew she was at the mercy of the mods... and I figured she'd be thrown in a corner, forgotten... or more likely, mentioned as a name killed in the "final battle", and become a casualty of war. I had no control there.
A few nights ago, I found out they took my character and had her brutally raped and murdered. And they didn't just say this happened... they role played it in explicit detail.
Okay... this IS a game... a game that I left... and she's a fictional character... But I took that personally. And I think if she died in such a way, Hogwarts will be getting a rather vengeful ghost residing in its halls... wouldn't you?
So this is why I'm writing this. I'm venting. I'm turning my anger into something (hopefully) creative, and having fun whilst an evil grin is on my face. Many thanks go to those who supported me, especially Courtney, Scarlett, and Thalia. Thank you loffs for being there for me. Now... without further ado, will you...
*~* Follow the Trail of Madness *~*
Chapter One
"Professor?" asked a bushy-haired girl in the front row, her black robes lined with red, "Is it possible for Dementors to eat the souls of ghosts?"
A loud scoff rang through the room before Professor Lupin could answer, and several of the students turned to look at Draco Malfoy who leaned back in his seat, obviously unimpressed with the lesson. "Please, Granger. What kind of question is that?"
"A good one," Lupin said quietly, but firmly, cutting off any other remarks the Slytherin boy had. He then turned back to answer Hermione, who was still glaring daggers at her fellow Head student over her shoulder before she looked back at her professor. "Actually, no, they can't. First of all, they need real, physical lips to attach to in order to suck out the soul. Another factor is that the body in all essence traps the soul so it has no where else to escape to. Ghosts are free of that bond, and can move their souls anywhere and in any way they wish."
Draco sneered. "You make it sound like ghosts have some sort of 'power'. I've never known creatures so incapable and useless besides dust bunnies." Snickers burst from most of the Slytherins in the room. "They're harmless."
Remus had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from giving a rather scathing response. Contrary to many of the staff's hopes, the young Malfoy had not improved in personality over the years... only worsened. He had no respect for anyone these days; not even Snape or Dumbledore. Still, he was a student... so after a deep breath, the werewolf calmly replied, "On the contrary, Mr. Malfoy, a vengeful ghost can be the most dangerous creature there is. The stronger the ghost, the greater resistance they have to exorcism spells, blockades, and charms. The most powerful of all still have the ability to affect physical objects."
"Oh?" Draco arched a delicate eyebrow in mild curiosity. "How does one become a 'strong' ghost then? I'm sure the Gryffindorks' lousy excuse for a house ghost has got plenty of reason to want revenge, and I've never seen such a weak and pathetic being in all my life... which is rather hard to do, considering how many fit the weak and pathetic description."
His trademark smirk plastered itself across his pale face, growing wider as Weasley and his prude of a girlfriend turned in their seats to give him looks alight with hatred. Oh, how he relished being able to get under their skin. But the one he really wanted to see, glasses slipping down his nose as his green eyes flashed pure, unadulterated loathing... didn't turn. Harry Potter kept his eyes where they had been since the beginning of the class: fixed on his desk.
His smirk twisted into a frown. These days, Potter had been no fun whatsoever. Draco's every attempt to rile the boy and stir some trouble was met with nothing more than a blank stare and an empty face. A void was where his archrival used to be, and it was irking Draco to no end that he couldn't get so much as a glare out of the boy. It'd been this bad ever since...
The bell interrupted his thoughts, and with an annoyed scowl at what a bloody waste of time this class was, Draco rose to his feet and held out his hand for the blond girl next to him. "Shall we go, Pansy my love? I think I've had enough brain cells destroyed for one afternoon, don't you agree?"
Noticing how several of the Gryffindors were bristling at the comment, Pansy Parkinson hid her smirk by giving the perfect, ladylike yawn. "Indeed, darling. Let us take our leave before we lose any more of our precious time."
A smirk back on his face and his fianc's arm entwined with his, Draco Malfoy left the room with a swagger in his steps.
~*~*~*~
Ghosts and mischievous spirits were so common on Hogwarts grounds, that had any of the students thought to look up as they walked from one class to the next, they probably wouldn't have wasted a second glance at the three figures nestled in the shadows of the rafters. A small blessing on the oblivious folk below... for had they looked up, Peeves would have pelted them with dung bombs in a heart beat. But when none of the students did, he remained oddly quiet... watching them with excited eyes.
"Oooooo...!! There be His Royal Snakiness and his Lady Love now!" He pointed gleefully at the silver blond head of Draco, Pansy still attached to his arm. They were flanked by Draco's two henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, and walking between the two of them was a dark haired lass, Daphne Greengrass, also of Slytherin. Peeves turned to the tall, partially see-through man floating next to him. "Will the Royalies be the only ones then?"
"Oh, no," came an amused, genteel voice from the ghost. His arms were crossed comfortably in front of him while his cape fluttered softly in a non-existent breeze. "We mustn't forget that while Malfoy and Parkinson did the deed, it was Greengrass who did the poisoning."
"A-poisoning she did go, a poisoning she did go!!" Peeves sing-songed, louder now that most of the students had trickled out of sight and the bell for signally for new classes to begin rang. Then he bent at the waist to gaze at the third of their party from between his legs. She was sitting on the stone branch limply, her legs dangling over the edge and her arms resting at her sides. His huge mouth split into an upside down grin. "And Missy Parkinson went a-cutting, and Master Malfoy went a-fu-"
Before he could finish, the figure stiffened and an arm swung forward, fingers spread and palm aimed at the poltergeist... and the little man found himself somersaulted and slammed into the unforgiving wall across the hall by an invisible force.
The male ghost burst out laughing. "Tut-tut, Peeves. Were you not listening to Professor Lupin's brilliant lecture? As far as ghosts go, I am older than Faren, but she is far stronger."
Shaking himself and rubbing his head where he had hit the wall the hardest, Peeves whined, "But Loony Lupin never had a chance to answer His Snakiness' question! How is one ghost stronger than the other? You were murdered too, Master Zabini, just as Lady Moon was."
Blaise Zabini swept his curly black locks away from his eyes, chuckling. "Ah, but I died in shock. Even as they cast the curse, I was still trying to convince myself that what I saw wasn't happening. Faren did not die this way... oh no..." Here, some of Blaise's strict high-class manners slipped as a cold, dark look entered his eyes and his teeth were bared with dislike. "No..." he whispered softly, dangerously. "A strong ghost is born when their minds are focused on a single thought before they die. The stronger the devotion and obsession with that one thought is before death, the more powerful they are after it. Potter's mother proved that with her single objective of protecting her son. Faren's proving it now."
Peeves looked at the young woman who had been of seventeen years upon her death with more respect in his face. Faren eyed him blankly... or so he thought until he saw what lay behind her eyes... and for once, there was a ghost that frightened him more than the Bloody Baron.
"You see it don't you?" Peeves jumped, Blaise suddenly behind him, leaning over his small body to gaze into the face of his childhood friend. "She died with hate on her mind. The hate burns, doesn't it, love? It screams... it screams with the voice taken from you when you were poisoned."
Faren's eyes grew darker... and more frightening yet, a crazed smile curled upon her lips. Blaise returned the smile and floated over to her, extending an arm gallantly for her to take. "Yes, my dear, dear friend. We will have revenge... we will make them pay for what they did to you."
Her smile faded as she stared at the arm presented to her. She tried to raise her right hand awkwardly to take it.
"Don't. Your blood does not bother me."
Retracting her hand, Faren only gazed mutely at his still extended arm. Finally, she raised her left hand, and Peeves could see the pewter silver coat of blood on the soft underside of her arm where a blade she had not wielded had sliced through to the arteries beneath.
Unfazed, Blaise took her arm gently and helped her to rise at his side before floating them both to face Peeves. "So, Master Poltergeist... you are willing to assist us?"
Peeves removed his cap and bowed low. "On orders of the Baron himself, I must. But had he not commanded me, it would have been an honor for me to do so anyway."
Blaise arched a brow at this. "Oh? And why are you so keen on helping us?"
Slamming his cap back onto his head, Peeves began to sing delightedly, "Because there is a PLOT! A plot a plot! A plot is a beautiful thing, is it not?" He tilted his head at the silent girl.
While the frightening smile did not return, she did look rather amused, and nodded once. Blaise did smile, however, and agreed by saying, "And what better plot than that of revenge?"
Peeves cackled, eager for the mayhem that would ensue on the three responsible for the Slytherin girl's death. "Indeed, indeed!! And revenge is a dish best served cold, am I not right, my lord and lady?"
"Like ice cream with a razor blade in it."
