That night, Lyla and Charlie had stayed up until two in the morning talking, just like they had three years ago in the astronomy tower. It was difficult but, this time, Charlie did most of the talking. He regaled her with the stories of the dragons he worked with and the Romanian countryside where green fields bled into the dark mountains. Even now, a month later, she could still remember the warmth of his finger playing with the tattoo on her back as they finally dozed off to sleep on the couch together.

Now, it was back to reality. Since the World Cup and everyone at the Ministry of Magic was still reeling with the after effects. Even in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures: Spirit Division, where Lyla worked, they were seeing an increase in activity. When she had arrived on the Monday following the World Cup she was immediately handed a stack of case files that needed attending to. It was as if, overnight, the unseen of the spirit world needed to be known.

After dealing with a particularly disturbed female ghost at a small cottage in Sturston, Lyla just wanted to get to her lumpy bed at the local inn. She picked up a greasy bag of pub food at The Eagle and then rushed back to her vacant bed as rain began to fall in thick sheets. Lyla was soaked as she jabbed her key into the lock of her room door, opening it as quickly as she could to avoid a run-in with any muggle living on her floor. She was able to blend in, her clothes were average for a muggle girl of her age and she even carried a small electronic brick made of glass and played mindless games with her thumbs on it in public to divert attention or potential conversation but she still was overly careful. Only having been two years out of training it was risky to raise suspicion.

She dropped the dripping plastic bag onto the small wooden table beside the door and threw her room key onto an overstuffed chair by the window. She chose nourishment before comfort and kicked her drenched clothes onto the tile floor of the bathroom as she peeled them from her cold, wet skin. She tucked her legs under her as she sat down and tore open her bag of food. As she stuffed chips, three at a time, into her mouth with her left hand she flipped open the case file from today and began writing her notes with her right.

The spirit she saw today was beyond consoling as she openly wailed in the rafters of the house, refusing to come down. Lyla was forced to obliviate the family within and send them on picnic at the river in order to use magic with the spirit. Most muggles confronted with a ghost or poltergeist are beyond willing to call priests and clairvoyants, as Lyla pretended to be, but being exposed to real magic was far too much for them. Besides, even if she needn't use magic it would have been dangerous for any muggle to hear what the spirit deemed the cause of her upset.

Lyla let go of her Quick Quotes Quill to pick up her burger with her other hand but it continued to take down the manuscript she was recounting from her interaction with the ghost.

"HE'S BAAAAAAACK" the ghost wailed, as she had been since the previous Sunday

"I know. I know!" Lyla cried up to the ghost. She had unscrewed the cap of a small bottle and let the lavender mist ascend into the air where the wailing woman was. It was a gas formation of a Calming Drought, its state was hard to achieve but since it was impossible to have a ghost swallow anything potions needed to be converted between liquid and gas states. As the mist mingled with the tendrils of the ghosts dangling shawl her screams died into helpless whimpers and she sunk lower, to Lyla's level.

The ghost draped herself over a large round ottoman, her eyes staring off into nothing as her chest heaved up and down rapidly with her, now silent, sobs. Lyla sat on the floor, cross-legged, across from her and opened the file in her lap. The ghost's living name had been Alice and she had killed herself after the death of her young child compounded by the disappearance of her husband. Lyla opened up the conversation by praising Alice's beautiful home and asking if she had made her shawl. Alice disclosed that her great-aunt had made it for her as she pulled it closer around her transparent body. Lyla then went on to divulge the facts of the night that the Dark Mark appeared in the sky as she had for so many other apparitions. She looked Alice right in the eyes and hovered her hand over Alice's white mist of a hand, the cold exuding from it and licking the palm of her hand as the warmth radiating from her hand comforted Alice.

"He is not back" Lyla whispered; Alice looked away from her "He really isn't"

"He will be" Alice croaked. Lyla didn't flinch for it wasn't the first time a spirit she was attempting to console had said that to her.

"I can't tell you otherwise on that front" Lyla replied, sighing and bringing her knees up to her chest. "I don't feel or know what you do" she continued, "But what I do know is that your spirit is pure, docile and full of love. Even if he does come back his evil cannot touch that which holds warmth and love. You know, many say that that's why Harry Potter was able to survive...his mother's love" Alice looked back at Lyla, her grey lids sparkling with the tears welling on them. Lyla's voice became brisk and she straightened up, "Alice, remind me again why you killed yourself"

"You know why" she said shamefully, her eyes flitting to the case file in Lyla's lap.

Lyla threw it to the side and put her face closer to Alice's, the cold mist drying her eyes but she still didn't blink, "Tell me why youdid."

After a long silence Alice spoke, almost inaudibly, "I couldn't live without them. I...loved...them" her voice cracked.

"That's right" Lyla said, smiling. "You had love. That makes you strong. And kind! So please tell me how terrorizing this poor family gives you any kind of release."

The side of Alice's mouth perked up and fell again, "What should I do?" she said strongly, sitting up on the ottoman, her hands folded in her lap.

Lyla looked up at her, her mind racing for an answer. "I don't know" she said finally, "We can help you whenever you need but until anything...real happens there's not much any of us can do." Lyla swallowed painfully as she tried to block out the thought of what possibility a "real" situation could present.

Lyla woke the next morning, contorted in her chair and her face stuck to the greasy burger wrapper on the table. Her bra and underwear she had left on had dried overnight and she groaned in disgust and discomfort as she peeled the wrapper off her face. She stumbled over to the bathroom, stripping as she went so that she could climb right into the hot shower to release her frozen muscles. She stood, her elbows planted against the tile wall, and let the water cascade down her back. Her tattoo danced around the canvas of her skin, flicking it's tongue out as if to lap the water up. Lyla sighed as the skin on her back blossomed red from the heat of the droplets rolling down it.

When she felt the water beginning to lose it's heat she pulled the shower curtain back and stepped out, the water still clinging to her body quickly making its way downward, onto the floor. When she strode back into the bedroom, leaving puddles in her wake, she noticed a brown, horned owl hovering outside her window. A smile broke on her face and she sped across the floor, sliding gracefully into the wall to open the window and let the bird in. He disgruntledly dropped the letter in his beak onto the floor, right into one of her puddles.

"Ttt" she hissed as she bent down to swiftly save the delicate paper from the destruction of the water. She flopped down onto the bed to read Charlie's letter immediately. Ever since he left they had sent weekly correspondence to one another. They had decided that within their letters they wouldn't tell one another 'I love you' anymore. It was too complicated, living so far away, and if it was one thing Lyla didn't do it was complicated. For Charlie, it was simple, he knew they would be together and he was willing to wait until it was no longer complicated.

After reading a letter mostly comprised of accounts from his work, response to the information she had relayed to him about Hogwarts from Alicia, and a story about a night he and his friend Dorin had gone out drinking, she stood up to get dressed and make her way back home for the weekend before picking up a new pile of cases for the next week.