I made a slight change to this chapter (as of 06/30/21) as I was being a big dumdum. I had Luna in Hufflepuff (she's now properly in Ravenclaw) and I have her as a second-year when she's supposed to be in the same year as Sven.

I am keeping Luna as a second-year because the error is harder to fix and doesn't change the plot. Just wanted to let everyone know because I've been getting reviews mentioning it.

Harry and Hermione half-carried Ron as he continued to vomit slugs over to Hagrid's hut. He was their closest escape from the laughing Slytherins who'd caused the fight that ended with Ron in this shape. The thought of the snakes made Harry's blood boil as they reached the small cabin and they had to duck behind some bushes when his second problem stepped out with Hagrid. Lockhart was chattering away about something that Hagrid looked frustrated about. When the man finally left though, the trio took the chance to knock on the door.

"I already said—" Hagrid cut himself short upon spotting them, looking grateful that they weren't the professor who'd just left. "Been wonderin' when you'd come ter see me—come in, come in—thought you mighta been Professor Lockhart back again—"

The trio stepped in and Harry blinked in surprise to see a familiar face settled at the large half-giant's table. Amber eyes drifted to his green ones as Sven bowed his head in greeting, pulling away a handkerchief from under his nose only to grimace as more blood dripped and he pressed it back once more.

"Another Slytherin!" Ron complained. "Hagrid what—"

"N-Now, don't go fightin'. He's at least a decent one, he is," Hagrid muttered, bringing over a bucket as Ron went to vomit some more.

"Sven?" Hermione spoke up, getting a small wave from the boy as Harry turned to her in surprise.

"You know him?"

She nodded. "He was sitting with Neville and Ginny and me on the train. Are you all right?" She asked Sven as they helped seat Ron down.

"Why are you being nice?" Ron spat. "He's a Slytherin! Or did you suddenly forget they did this to me?"

Even Harry sighed. "You kind of did it to yourself, Ron."

Hermione nodded. "You shouldn't have used your wand if it's that broken. And… Sven isn't so bad."

Ron glanced at Harry. "Harry, you understand, right?"

Harry hesitated though, remembering the boy helping him up and apologizing earlier. "I mean, he's not making fun of you, is he?"

Ron gaped in shock until his face turned green and he vomited another slug with a groan.

"He's not like the others, are you, Sven?" Hermione asked, the smallest bit of hesitation in her voice as well.

"I dunno," the boy muttered, giving them a look of confusion. "I don't go cursing people if that's what you mean."

"See, Ron?"

Ron still frowned. "Doesn't mean I trust him."

Hermione rolled her eyes before taking the handkerchief from Sven as the boy checked his nose again. "It might be broken. What happened? Why haven't you gone to Madam Pomfrey?"

"I found him near the forest getting pounded on by some classmates," Hagrid explained as Hermione pulled out her wand and muttered a spell that snapped Sven's nose back into place.

The boy cringed at the pain, accepting a cold piece of meat that Hagrid offered as an ice pack.

"Serves him right," Ron grumbled. "Probably some kids he bullied and they fought back."

"Ron!"

Even Hagrid frowned at the ginger. "Now, don't be saying things like that, Ron. They were Slytherin students as well."

Ron gave Sven a look. "A snake being bullied by other snakes?"

Sven glanced back. "They don't like me."

"You're joking."

Sven shrugged, adjusting the meat on his face. "I'm a Mudblood, apparently. Or they think so, anyway."

"What?" Ron gaped. "That's impossible! No Mudblood has ever been put in Slytherin. Halves, maybe, but—No. You're lying. You gotta be!"

Sven didn't respond and Hermione shuffled awkwardly.

"Malfoy called me that. I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course."

Ron answered with a frown. "It's about the most insulting thing he could think of. Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born—you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards—like Malfoy's family—who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." His vomiting calmed down, him burping and only a small slug popping into the bucket. "I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom—he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," Hagrid added, making Hermione flush and the edge of Sven's lip twitch up in a slight smile.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone. Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out."

He went to vomit again as Hagrid nodded.

"Well, I don' blame yeh fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron. Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yeh'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."

Harry looked at Sven then. "But are you a Mud—Muggle-born, I mean?"

"Dunno," Sven said, accepting a damp cloth from Hagrid to clean up the blood under his nose. "Parents died when I was young. Don't remember what they were."

Harry bowed his head, knowing the feeling. "Sorry."

Sven tipped his head slightly. "What for?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything."

Harry wasn't sure what to say about that but Sven glanced out the window then and sighed, getting up.

"I need to go."

"Ya only just got here," Hagrid argued.

"If I don't leave, I'll miss my chance to get lunch. Malfoy will be crossing through the hallway I need soon. I'd rather not bump into him again."

Hermione looked shocked. "Y-You calculate your routes?"

Sven nodded, picking up his things and handing the meat chunk to Hagrid. "Easiest way to avoid trouble." He bowed lightly in farewell and stepped out, leaving the group standing there in shock.

"He's weird," Ron muttered. "Why'd the Sorting Hat put him in Slytherin if he was just gonna get beat up?"

"The hat puts yeh where it thinks you'll be your best," Hagrid replied, but Harry frowned.

"Not me. It wanted to put me in Slytherin but I told it not to. Why didn't he?"

"He didn't know," Hermione explained. "We explained a bit about the houses on the train but he didn't know anything about it. He didn't really have an opinion."

"Why doesn't he complain to Dumbledore?" Harry asked, confused. "He could switch his house, couldn't he?"

"I don't think it works that way, Harry," Hermione murmured.

"But if he's being bullied by his own house—"

"Can you imagine what the other houses are doing? Or what they would do if he was moved?"

The group went quiet and even Ron had a bit of sympathy for the Slytherin boy. What could they do though? A group of Gryffindors sticking up for a Slytherin? It would only make things worse.

"Well, I'm sure someone will help," Ron offered poorly and the group had no choice but to accept there was nothing to be done.

I hadn't avoided Malfoy. He caught me and upon spotting my bloody nose, had a good laugh and knocked me flat on my arse. I'd woken up in the hallway dazed and staring through a ghost who hovered over me.

"Are you all right?" He asked, looking rather hesitant.

"Been better," I croaked out, rolling onto my side and cringing.

My ribs ached and my head throbbed. I brought a hand up and cursed quietly under my breath. My nose was bleeding again.

"I'm not used to seeing a Slytherin knocked off their feet," the ghost hummed, circling lightly and glancing up the hall. "You're the one the Bloody Baron favors, correct?"

Remembering the ghost who'd taken a liking to me, I nodded. "Seems so. He likes trying to scare me in the common room, but…" I remembered the cold chill of the Baron brushing against my body just in time for the other Slytherins to start heading down the stairs earlier that morning. "...he's kind, I suppose."

"The Baron? Kind?" The ghost gave me a stunned look. "Are you sure you're a Slytherin?"

I managed to get up onto my feet, brushing a hand under my nose to wipe away the blood, and glanced out the window. The sun was setting. I'd been out for a while.

"Are classes done for the day?" I asked the ghost who hesitated but nodded.

"I do believe so. You're a first-year, yes?"

I nodded, reaching up and tugging at my ear. I missed my lunch.

"I'm Sir Nicholas. Nearly-Headless Nick, as I'm known here. I'm the Gryffindor ghost."

I glanced at him and bowed my head in slight greeting. "Sven Rydell. Unwanted Slytherin."

He looked surprised. "Unwanted?"

"They believe I'm a Mudblood," I said, catching him flinch. "I don't know, honestly. Never knew my parents."

"I… apologize for being insensitive."

"It's fine… Has dinner started?" I asked, hoping I hadn't missed that as well.

"I was just on my way there," he replied, eyeing me. "Shouldn't you visit Madam Pomfrey first?"

I shook my head, starting to walk to the Great Hall with him floating beside me. "No point. They're going to get me again before lights out. I'll take care of it after."

He looked as though he was going to say something, but thought better of it and instead changed the subject. "Do you know any of the other ghosts?"

I blinked back at him, thinking. "I've… met a few. They keep their distance though, except Peeves."

"Yes, Peeves. You should tell him the Baron favors you. The Baron's the only one who can control him, so he might give you space if you let him know. Perhaps, you can convince him to assist in getting back at your bullies. He does love his tricks."

The thought made my chest burn. The need for revenge was strong but I shoved it back. I couldn't lose myself to that. Not when I needed to keep such a tight hold on my emotions.

"I can't. They'll find out it was me and then…" I paused, shaking my head. "I can handle it. This is nothing."

The walk grew quiet before he sighed softly.

"I'll speak with the other ghosts. Perhaps, the least we can do is show you some of the secrets of the castle. Places to hide, to sleep. Warn you, perhaps, should your tormentors come searching."

I gave him a look as we stopped outside the doors to the Great Hall, tucked just around the corner. "Why would you do that? How does it benefit you?"

He looked surprised I'd ask him such a thing, but that's how my life worked; how it's always worked. People never did things without thinking of themselves. That vampire didn't escort me to the train station without thinking about how listening to the Headmaster or Professor McGonagall would change something in his life. McGonagall didn't consider helping me without thinking of how it would affect her position. It was just how life worked.

"I… simply don't wish to find you in such a situation again. I may not be your House Ghost, however, it is our duty to ensure the children of this school are safe. No matter their parentage or designated house."

It wasn't a great answer, but I doubt that he would not do what he was saying. I had no choice, so I gave in, accepting that I might have more ghosts wandering around than usual. Though, learning about the castle will be interesting. I can't continue to wander aimlessly anymore. Not if I want to get to my classes on time and without injury. He smiled a little and I went to enter the Great Hall. Multiple eyes flew in my direction when I stepped in with Sir Nicholas—said ghost flying off to his house table as I slipped towards my own.

"Playing with the Gryffindor ghost, are you Rydell?" Malfoy snickered the moment I reached the bench and sat before a plate and goblet—which filled with blood the moment I'd touched the gold. "That'll get you in even more trouble, you know. We don't associate with Gryffindors."

I didn't understand Malfoy. The boy was one of my bigger bullies but would also say things like this that sounded as though he was accepting me as part of Slytherin. Pride was the only thing I could think of that explained it. He was proud of the Slytherin house and didn't want me tainting it by doing things like conversing with Sir Nicholas.

"We just walked in at the same time," I muttered, finishing off the blood and turning to the food.

Said food was dyed purple by a spell the moment it went onto my plate, a few Slytherins nearby snickered at the trick. I ignored the color and ate, making them scowl. Color doesn't change the taste. I've eaten worse. Another spell snapped across the table, knocking my plate to the ground. The waste of food was frustrating, but I pushed down the anger and just ate what I could by hand. I stuck around until most of the table had gone despite the spells occasionally being shot my way. Then, I'd reached down and picked up the plate they'd knocked down, putting it back on the table and using a cloth to clean up the mess as best I could. It was the only thing I could do for those who had to deal with the aftermath of my torment.

With classes done for the evening, I stepped out and begrudgingly headed for Professor Lockhart's office since his class was the one I'd missed earlier. The man was the most useless professor I'd met thus far with lectures more about himself than actual Dark Arts. I'd taken to borrowing books from the library to learn properly rather than actually listening to his lectures. The Slytherins prevented much learning there anyway. Still, the man was prone to pop quizzes about various accomplishments so I would need to know what I'd missed while dealing with Malfoy's knockback spell.

I knocked on the door and stepped in to find Harry sitting by the man's desk with a bundle of letters and the man himself tipping his head curiously.

"Hello, dear student. How may I assist?"

"I missed our lecture this afternoon," I explained, turning my gaze away from Harry's and to the blonde professor as he stood and approached with his arms folded over his chest.

"What is your name then, boy? You should know better than to miss my lectures. I'm not some teacher of insignificant things like potions or plants."

He doesn't like Professor Snape or Professor Sprout it seems… or he just thinks too highly of himself to care. "Sven Rydell," I replied. "And I was in the infirmary, sir."

He frowned. "And your note?"

"Don't have one, sir."

"Then, you must be lying. Shall I call Professor Snape to deliver a proper punishment then?"

Oh, come on.

"Um, Professor?"

Lockhart turned to Harry, grinning. "Yes, Harry? What is it?"

"I saw Sven in the infirmary earlier. He must have just forgotten to get a note from Madam Pomfrey."

I frowned, eyeing Harry cautiously. Why is he sticking up for me?

"Ah! Yes, I see. If Harry saw, then it must be true. Very well, Mr. Rydell. Let me explain very briefly what we went over this afternoon, and I'll let you be on your way."

"Very briefly" turned into an hour-long lecture that left me mildly dazed as my eyes drifted to the growing darkness outside the window. Harry had stopped writing letters by this point and looked to be lightly dozing himself before there was something that set me on edge.

I recognized the feeling. The tenseness that grew in my body as something dangerous loomed nearby. A quick glance around the room showed nothing different other than Lockhart waving his hands dramatically in his recounting of a battle with a banshee. Whatever set me on edge though, must have been sensed by Harry too, for he jumped and shouted.

"What!"

"I know!" Lockhart grinned, assuming Harry had been listening to his ramble. "Six solid months at the top of the bestseller list! Broke all records!"

"No, that voice!"

"Voice?" I questioned, having not heard anything over Lockhart's rambling.

"T-That voice said—Didn't you hear it?" Harry asked, giving me a look and I shook my head as Lockhart frowned in equal confusion.

"What are you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? Great Scott—look at the time! We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it—the time's flown, hasn't it?"

Harry still looked uneasy and even I strained my ears to try and hear something, but the room was quiet as Lockhart better organized Harry's leftover letters and began to shoo us out.

"Right, so remember, Mr. Rydell. Chapters four, five, and seven by next week. I might have a quiz on them later! Farewell and goodbye, Harry! We'll definitely have to speak again! Could I trouble you for tea later?"

"Uh, I-I'm busy, Professor. Quidditch and stuff, you know?"

"Yes, yes. Of course. We'll make a date of it eventually. Now, run along! Don't want you getting in trouble for being out late."

We left the area as soon as we were able and I glanced at Harry as he eyed the walls uneasily.

"You heard something?" I asked, making him flinch before hesitantly nodding.

"A voice. It wanted to kill someone. You… You don't believe me, right?"

I shook my head, making him wilt before I spoke. "I sensed something too."

"What?"

Ah… can normal humans not sense danger like that? I've been alone for too long. I don't know what's a skill of my own or of my kind. "I… I lived in a forest," I begrudgingly offered, trying to steer clear of what I was. "I'm used to being alert and I sensed something dangerous before you shouted."

His eyes widened. "T-Then you might have heard it too!"

"I didn't hear anything while the Professor was talking." I paused. "Why did you help me? When he asked about a note…"

"Oh… well…" Harry hesitated at the base of the stairs with me—the two of us about to split off to our respective dorms. "You were beat up before, at Hagrid's. You don't seem the type to… well… You're not like other Slytherins, I mean. Just… don't tell anyone."

I nodded. "I would hardly make more trouble for myself."

Harry cracked a small smile and nodded to the stairs. "Then… I'll see you."

I bowed my head and started towards the dungeons where I would probably wander until Filch did his rounds and I had more of the castle to myself. All the while, keeping my ears out for the voice Harry had heard or anything unusual.

October had approached quickly and with it, the anger building up from the other students who'd been trying to find me through the month. Sir Nicholas had been true to his word and I learned more about the castle and its various halls and rooms in that month than I ever expected. The castle ghosts were convenient and friendly with his reassurance and the Bloody Baron's support. Said ghost had taken to appearing randomly along my routes to try and startle me, giving me a mild sense of paranoia but making it far more difficult for students to get the jump on me.

I'd finally discovered who had been making the food and cleaning up after my troubles as well, having slipped into the kitchen at a ghost's warning that Malfoy was edging near. The House Elves were overly kind and sympathetic despite knowing what I was—as they prepared the blood I was drinking during mealtimes. The kitchen served as a secret refuge as well, given that Slytherins had begun staking out the Great Hall in wait for me since they were having a hard time finding me elsewhere.

I was exhausted though. As it was, I did not function well during the day. Sunlight—while it didn't physically hurt—left me drained and sluggish. Much like the other students who were being sent to Madam Pomfrey with colds, I was very much tired and feverish on the days where I was stuck in the greenhouse for Herbology lessons. The glass provided little shelter from the rays and despite the somewhat kind offer of being allowed a sunhat to wear—much to the Slytherins' amusement—it didn't help me feel any better. Thankfully, as it got later in the year, it was cloudy more often though the tiredness lingered.

Sleeping was difficult. I still couldn't sleep at night nor in my own bed. I'd tried once when the bullying had died down. I'd ended up in Madam Pomfrey's for more than half the day with my face rather swollen and a fiery rash all over my body that was bad enough that I'd clawed myself to bleeding point. I apparently had a severe allergy to whatever itching powder they'd covered my sheets with. Said powder was somehow mixed with magic as well, making it impossible to just be normally washed off. Madam Pomfrey mentioned something about the Weasley's when she saw it but, not knowing who the "Weasley's" were, the information meant nothing to me.

That was another thing the ghosts had added to ensure my well-being in the castle. Between them and the portraits, I knew exactly who to talk to if I wanted information on anything. From where Filch was patrolling to who got detention to the best places to sleep or hide. Peeves was the one who actually told me about the Weasley's. He'd overheard me asking a portrait and went on a rant about how much fun they were. Fred and George were definitely two for me to watch out for, given how they typically set their eyes on Slytherins as targets.

Needless to say, I met them soon enough and spent quite a while afterward trying to get the vibrant pink out of my hair in an unused girl's restroom. Why? Because if I went to the nearest boy's, there would be a group of Slytherin's waiting for me and a reliable ghost had given permission.

"Ooh, I remember when the girls used to pull pranks like that on me," she drawled as I tugged on a still pink lock of hair and frowned in the dirty mirror above the sink. "They were so cruel a-and then… and then I died!"

She started wailing and sobbing, rushing off to her favorite bathroom stall at the remembrance of her death and I lightly sighed at Moaning Myrtle's distress. She'd recounted her death story to me more often than I'd like but it seemed she rarely had visitors and simply wished to talk. I didn't understand that. I wasn't the talkative type with or without people around to talk to. As I debated on whether a spell might help rescue my hair—I didn't dare go to Madam Pomfrey for anything less than a bloody wound—someone walked in behind me.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know anyone would be in here."

I glanced at the young woman who'd walked in, taking in her blue-lined robes and the dirty shoes held in her hands while she stepped in with only her blue and black striped socks on her feet. Realizing that I was not only in her way but also in a girl's restroom, I bowed my head in a small apology and went to leave.

"I know a spell that can get that out of your hair."

I paused beside her, hesitant to trust anyone, much less someone from another house. Harry and Hermione had been the only two who'd been somewhat kind to me despite my house, but one of them I'd met before being sorted, and the other was possibly influenced by her.

"I can teach it to you, if you'd like," the girl offered, moving to the sink and placing her shoes in as she turned on the water.

I glanced at my escape but knowing that I would undoubtedly end up like this again at some point, a counterspell would be a useful tool. So, I begrudgingly returned to her side as she finished cleaning her shoes. I drew my own wand, catching how she glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes only for me to wave a drying spell over her shoes.

Turns out, we had quite a bit in common. She was rather bullied by her own house and the other houses as well. Her nickname being one that I'd heard from a few portraits before. Looney Luna. Luna Lovegood was a second-year in Ravenclaw and I found us running into each other more and more since our first meeting. Much like myself, she'd grown to learn many of the castle's hiding places and knew a few portraits and ghosts as well. While some of the things she spoke of seemed a bit strange, if not entirely unbelievable, I didn't mind her idle chatter. She seemed to recognize when I wanted quiet as well.

I'd missed meals once or twice in the coming weeks both as a test to see if I could handle limiting my usual blood supply and because I'd been unable to enter the Great Hall or the kitchens. Not having as much as I should meant headaches, fatigue, and a mild temper that came with the struggle of me controlling my emotions with so many students around. My only reprieve was going outside the castle walls where the numbers were significantly lessened but that meant dealing with the light of the sun peeking through the clouds.

Luna had bumped into me during one of these escapes and had done something that I owed her for. She'd taken my wrist, ignoring my snappish remarks to release me and my light struggling, and brought me into the forest until we'd reached a small shaded clearing. I was released immediately upon entering and she simply stood there for a moment, judging my reaction. She reminded me of a deer in that way; cautious but curious, always watching to see whether she should flee or stay.

The forest was perfect though. It reminded me of my home in the forests around the coven. There were no students here but us and the quiet calm heartbeats of the few nearby creatures. I'd sagged against a tree with a muttered thanks and she simply nodded and settled down herself against another trunk with a book she held upside-down.

I grew well-used to her oddities and soon didn't mind bumping into her. It was never intentional. Neither of us actively went looking for the other. There was just a mutual understanding that if we happened to come upon one or the other, we would spend what remaining time we had doing something quietly together. She was able to help with my spell-work too, being a grade higher than I, while I offered what knowledge I could in return. Astronomy, Herbology, and Potions I was good enough at to help while she excelled at Charms, the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration.

It was… almost nice to finally have someone I could feel somewhat comfortable about, even if there were times I felt she'd noticed something about me that she shouldn't. Her figuring out what I was concerned me the most. By letting her get close, I was risking that secret getting out but our every-so-often meetings limited how much of my other side she saw and allowed me to be okay with her sticking around. It helped she knew more counterspells than I did to help me out of various situations. She offered to show me dueling skills too but after informing her I wasn't interested in getting back at my bullies, she never asked again—only mentioning something about me being kind. I didn't feel that way but knew better than to try and get her to change her mind.

Then, there was what Harry had said that night with Lockhart. I'd kept my ears open after that, listening at night for anything out of the ordinary, something off. I'd get chills and my instincts would demand I choose a different path than my usual rounds at night. That sense of danger that I only seemed to really notice when the castle was quiet and filled with just the sounds of snoring portraits and a soft breeze. I'd heard it too. Not a voice, like Harry had mentioned, but a soft sound like water in the pipes or fabric sliding across the floor. That wasn't what it was. I'd learned to recognize those sounds and blocked them out typically. This was different. Off in a subtle way that I couldn't explain and when I would try and follow it, I had the same sense of unease and danger as before.

Telling Harry though was impossible. Being a different year meant we didn't have any classes together and our schedules tended to put us in different areas of the castle. That, and a Slytherin meeting a Gryffindor was unheard of. I attempted to find him before his Quidditch practices in the morning as well, but he either woke up just before it started and I missed him, or his early morning sessions had been changed. Contacting anyone else was dangerous as well. There weren't many who I interacted with and the thought of involving Luna—who was already being bullied enough—made a sense of shame well up in me. I needed to find a way to tell him without involving others or risking either of our safety, and that was harder than it sounded.

As Halloween approached though, I was discovered trying to untie myself from a rope trap that had me hanging from the hallway ceiling near the kitchens. The Slytherins had discovered where I'd been sneaking off to for meals and pounced as soon as they were able. With my wand on the ground below me, too far away to reach, I was relying on my brute strength to try and get the rope off just as a voice spoke up from below.

"Are you quite all right, Mr. Rydell?"

I abandoned my leg and hung back upside-down, blinking at Nearly-Headless Nick who looked mildly concerned. "I've been better, Sir Nicholas."

"Now, I've told you, Nick is fine," he urged, floating up to look at the rope.

"And Sven is fine for me," I repeated for the fifth time to him, swinging myself back up to grab my ankle and try the rope again. "How are you today, Nick?"

"Ah, well, haven't you heard? About my rejection to join the Headless Hunt?"

"Is that so?" I mused, having heard the ghosts whispering about something but never really paying it much attention unless it had to do with myself or the gossip of the living. "That's a shame."

"Is it not? Honestly, half an inch of skin and—Would you like me to request some help?"

I dropped back to hanging with a sigh, my abdomen aching from trying to keep myself up long enough to tear through the ropes. "If you wouldn't mind…"

With the help of a panicked House Elf, I was carefully placed back on the ground and settled in the kitchen with the blood I should have gotten for that evening's meal. Sir Nicholas was seated across from me though, looking eager.

"The ghosts have mentioned you need a way of contacting Harry. Is that true?"

I nodded, drinking my blood with a small sigh of relief as it helped soothe the headache I'd started to get while hanging upside-down.

"Well, so long as you're not going to do anything you shouldn't, I think I might be able to help."

I raised a brow, wiping at my mouth should any of the blood pooled over. "Why would I do something to Harry?"

"Well, it's well known that the Slytherin and Gryffindor houses do not get along. While I have some faith that you're… different from normal Slytherins, I fear what may happen with the two of you."

"I've already met him before," I offered. "He asked about something the other day and I simply wanted to give him a response."

"Ah, in that case, all the better! I'm assuming you won't want to be seen together and with the Baron's assistance, it would be easy to keep the other ghosts quiet." Sir Nicholas cleared his throat. "I've invited Harry to join me at the next Death Day Party this Halloween evening. He was rather reluctant because the feast will be happening at the same time, but agreed to join. So, if I were to invite you as well, given your good reputation among the other undead, it would give you a chance to tell him what you wished, no?"

It would, but I was suspicious.

"But where is the merit for you?" I asked, still not over my mild paranoia that everyone was looking for a way to help themselves.

"I only wish for you to mention how frightening and impressive I am to the others from the Headless Hunt. Perhaps then, I might be allowed to join in their festivities."

Spread a rumor amongst the ghosts? Easy enough I would think. It's simple to just say things. Truths or otherwise. "All right," I agreed. "You helped me, so I might as well."

"And I truly appreciate it, Mr—Ahem, Sven."

I bowed my head in acknowledgment and spent the rest of that meal learning more from him about what a Death Day Party was, and what was to be expected from me… a very not dead person. Or, well, mostly not dead. Vampires count as the undead so perhaps that's why the Baron and other ghosts are taking an interest in me.

The evening of the Halloween Feast, I was following the directions Sir Nicholas had given me, knowing the dungeons well enough that it was obvious to find what had changed for the party. Long, black candles burned blue, leading the way into the lower dungeon where the temperature quickly began to drop. An eerie sort of screeching sound echoed from further down the corridor, something I could only assume was music and I soon spotted Sir Nicholas standing before some black drapes.

"Ah, Sven! Thank you again for coming."

I nodded and held up the rather large, half-rotted fish I'd caught for the party, something that pleased him.

"We're just waiting for—Ah! And here they are now! My dear friends. Welcome, welcome. So pleased you could come," he greeted Harry, Ron, and Hermione, removing his plumed hat with a flourish as Ron spotted me.

"Why's he here!"

"I was invited," I answered. "The ghosts like me."

"Yeah, they would, wouldn't they?"

"Ron, behave!" Hermione scolded him, giving me a small apologetic look before Sir Nicholas waved us into the party.

The ghosts were plentiful, most drifting into some sort of awkward waltz played by the thirty musical saws nearby. With the dark candles, blue flames, and the chill fogging our breath, the whole party very much gave off the feeling of being in a haunted dungeon. With Sir Nicholas having abandoned us for the most part to greet other ghosts, the four of us stood together awkwardly for a moment.

"Shall we have a look around?" Harry offered, making Ron shudder.

"Careful not to walk through anyone."

I lifted my rotten fish. "I need to drop this off at the table."

Ron plugged his nose immediately at the smell. "Why do you just have rotten fish!"

"Nick informed me that the more rotten the food is, the more they can taste it," I informed him as we reached the table and they all turned a little green at the sight of the rotten food and burnt deserts mixed with maggots and flies.

Just as I went to put the fish down, a ghostly head floated up through the platter, making Ron and Hermione scream while I just stared at the Bloody Baron, unamused.

"Hello, Bloody Baron."

He chuckled deeply as he drifted out of the food table, chains rattling until he stood before me—everyone else, living or dead giving us room. "I will catch you one day, Sven. My reputation will go down if I can't startle one student."

I sighed softly before my shoulder became chilled, sending a shiver down my spine from the Baron's touch.

"I'll be sure the other ghosts say nothing about you and the…" He scowled over at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "...Gryffindors."

"I appreciate your help, Baron," I replied, earning a huff as the man drifted off into the crowd of ghosts, who shifted out of his way.

"Y-You're friends with the Bloody Baron?" Ron hissed, stunned as the other two watched him drift away.

"I… suppose?" I offered, rather confused as to our relationship myself. "He just likes to try and scare me in the halls, but… he helps, sometimes."

"Oh, no," Hermione complained then, drawing our attention to her. "Can we go? I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle."

"Who?" Harry asked whereas I had a different question.

"Why?"

"She haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor."

"She haunts a toilet?"

"Yes. It's been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you."

"Most people don't use it," I replied as well, reaching over and prodding at a dead pheasant on the table, silently wondering if it was a little fresher than the rest.

I was missing my evening goblet after all.

"Wha—Do you know Moaning Myrtle?"

I dropped the pheasant I'd taken a whiff of—missing the disgusted looks the trio gave me—and stared back in confusion. "Yes?"

"How! She lives in the girl's restroom!"

"She's given me permission to use it for when there are students waiting for me at the other restrooms on the first floor. I use the sinks to remove stuff from my hair… and robes..."

They seemed a bit dumbfounded, though I wasn't sure why, before Peeves suddenly swooped up from under the table with a cheeky grin.

"Hello, Peeves."

Said ghost was dressed up bright and bold, offering us a platter of moldy peanuts. "Nibbles?"

"No thanks," Hermione grimaced.

"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle," Peeves teased, making Hermione go stiff. "Rude you was about poor Myrtle."

Seeing him about to do something, I stepped between him and Hermione and made him stop, hesitant.

"You should go, Peeves," I said calmly. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't go causing me trouble."

He scowled, huffed, and dropped some of the moldy peanuts in the back of my hood as he floated away grumbling about being the Bloody Baron's pet. I shook my head and picked the peanuts from my robes as Hermione hesitantly muttered her thanks.

"How did you do that?" Ron gaped though, stunned apparently. "Peeves doesn't listen to anyone!"

"He listens to the Bloody Baron," I countered, dropping the final peanut back onto the platter. "Said Baron likes me, so he's learned not to cause me trouble. The ghosts like to gossip, after all. The Baron would find out if he did anything."

"T-That… is wicked," Ron breathed. "Not even my brothers have managed that! That's—" He paused, seeming to realize who he was speaking to, clearing his throat. "I-It's alright… for a Slytherin."

I raised a brow but didn't argue with him at all as Nick floated over to ask how we were liking things until a hunting horn cut through the sounds of the party.

"Oh, here we go," Nick complained just as a group of headless horsemen rode into the dungeon.

The leader of the group headed over upon spotting Nick in the crowd, his head tucked under his arm. "Nick! How are you? Head still hanging in there?" He laughed, patting Nick on the back as the ghost scowled.

"Welcome, Patrick."

The ghost spotted us then, head slipping off his shoulders and making the crowd of ghosts laugh. "Live 'uns!"

"Very amusing," Nick said bitterly.

"Don't mind Nick," Patrick grinned. "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say—look at the fellow!"

Taking the chance, Harry tried to look serious. "I think Nick's very—frightening and—er—"

"Ha! Bet he asked you to say that!"

"He is," I interrupted, not willing to let one of the few ghosts who helped me get bullied. "Scarier than you, anyway."

Murmurs echoed through the crowd and the man hopped off his horse and headed over to me.

"You don't think I'm scary?"

"Not in the slightest," I replied, not even flinching as he jumped at me and tried a few things to scare me.

When he was exhausted, I simply blinked at him slowly as the ghosts' murmurs grew.

"Are you done?"

He looked rather frustrated only for the Bloody Baron to drift over and make the man shrink a little.

"You don't stand a chance with him, Patrick. Not if even I can't scare him."

I peeked around the Baron's elbow, shooting him a look. "But you try so often that it's kind of expected now, you know."

He peered down at me with a small upturn to his lips. "Then, I'll have to try harder."

Shit. I signed myself up for more paranoia just now, didn't I? Nick thankfully cut in and announced some sort of speech but the others had enough of the chills and the lack of decent food. Even I had to admit I would need a trip down to the kitchens for more than just my usual top-up of blood. So, we made the call and stepped out as soon as we could and I went to try and get Harry's attention to let him know what I'd been trying to tell him about the sounds when a chill went down my spine. Harry, too, paused and began looking around.

"Harry, what are you—"

"It's that voice again," Harry said, letting me know the other two were aware of it. "Shut up a minute."

I too had gone deadly silent, straining my ears to the best of my ability and once again hearing no voice but the smooth sliding of something in the walls. My eyes tracked the sound upward and I frowned.

"It's moving up."

"You can hear it?" Ron questioned.

"Not a voice. I was going to tell you, Harry," I said, getting ignored as Harry darted up the stairs.

"Harry, what are we—"

"Sh!" He shushed them as I abruptly brought a hand to my mouth.

I smell blood. Oh, this is not good. I haven't… They've just started cutting back my blood and I didn't get my evening one yet. Shit. I placed a hand on the wall, trying to swallow back the dryness of my throat.

"It's going to kill someone!" Harry shouted, making for the next set of stairs to follow after whatever he was hearing, not knowing that it already had possibly killed someone.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione called, huffing as he rushed upstairs and she went to go after him with Ron before she spotted me. "Sven?"

I had my eyes clenched shut, breathing as shallowly as I could and trying to ignore the pounding of their hearts.

"Just leave him, Hermione," Ron complained, but knowing that they were rushing up to possibly run into something dangerous, I struggled to push past the hunger and grit my teeth.

"No. No, we need to go," I said shortly, pushing off the wall and rushing for the steps to go after Harry. "Harry's right. There was something in the walls and if it hurt someone, he could be running right for it."

I heard them rushing after me and scolded myself for adding to the quick pace of their hearts. The more scared they were, the more blood pumped through them, faster and faster and faster. Stop it. Don't think about it. It's only three people. It's not even a lot of people. Just do what you always do and control it.

Harry had run around the whole floor at this point and finally pulled to a stop as everyone tried to catch their breath. I couldn't hear the thing in the wall anymore, though it was hard to hear anything over the sound of those beside me. My teeth ached and my throat was tight with the need for blood, but I was managing it for the moment. The scent of blood is stronger now though. It's not human, thank goodness, but that doesn't help me at all.

"Harry, what was that all about? I couldn't hear anything," Ron complained, a hand wrapped around his side.

Hermione though had seen what I'd been smelling, sucking in a gasp and pointing down the hall. "Look!"

Blood was smeared over the wall further down, words shining in the candlelight.

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened.

Enemies of the heir, beware.

"What's that thing hanging underneath?" Ron asked, pointing out a limp creature with its tail wrapped around the torch.

We all approached, water splashing at our ankles from the nearby flooded bathroom, but my eyes were on the creature. Filch's cat—Mrs. Norris—was hanging up on the wall, completely still.

"Let's get out of here," Ron suddenly said, cutting through the thick silence that had enveloped us.

"Shouldn't we try and help?" Hermione argued, eyeing the cat in concern.

"Trust me. We don't want to be found here."

I stepped forward though, hand brushing over the words and smearing the blood. I rubbed my fingers together, swallowing back the urge to lick it off my fingers. It's fresh. My eyes flickered to the cat then, my hand reaching out to touch it as I tried to focus on whether the creature's heart still beat or not. My fingers had just touched its neck, making my breath stop as I felt the pull of its blood flowing through its veins. It's alive.

Then, chaos.

The Halloween feast had just ended and those who'd been attending were now flooding the corridors. Our corridor. Their voices were soon drowned out by the sound of their hearts in my ears, making my body quiver lightly as I struggled to rein in some control. I could handle three people, but dozens? And with fresh blood in the air… Shit.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Malfoy shouted with a grin before I saw him spot me and his smile fell into one of suspicion.

"What's going on here? What's going on?"

And if that wasn't enough, Filch had just arrived. It took him all of two seconds to see the problem.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" His eyes landed on me then, the blood on my fingers and my arm still outstretched towards his cat making me the most suspicious. "You! You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll—"

"Argus!" A voice bellowed, stopping the man from grabbing my robes as he'd approached to do.

Dumbledore cut through the sea of students with the other teachers, passing right over Harry, Ron, and Hermione to come up next to me. I winced away slightly, grabbing at my robe at how close he'd gotten as he reached up and detangled Mrs. Norris from the torch.

"Come with me, Argus," he said calmly, glancing at me and the trio behind me. "You, too, Mr. Rydell, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger. Severus, would you mind grabbing something for Mr. Rydell's condition?"

Snape didn't look pleased, glaring down his hooked nose at me but shuffling off all the same with a snapped warning for the other students to be well on their way to bed before he docked house points. This is not looking good.