It seemed to Dennis he never learned enough to see a clear path forward. Thomas' curse impeded, yet it could not overcome inquisitiveness. Whoever cast the terrible spell probably never expected anyone to lend the ghost assistance with a dilemma about which he could not speak. By the time Dennis returned home, his head ached a because he spent more time in the Ministry of Magic library studying Nottingham maps and telephone directories in an attempt to chart a course. He finally gave up after two unproductive hours and wrote down the addresses of a number of Nottingham government buildings.

Dennis got a bit of surprise when he arrived in the living of his home.

"Owl came for you, love," his mother and held up a folded and sealed sheet of parchment. "I gave the bird a hot dog. Think that was wise?"

"Perfect, Mum. Delivery owls expect a tip of some sort, and glad you remembered," he rejoined.

"Well, it looked like it came from a long way off and could use a bit of something to eat."

By the time he finished speaking, Dennis walked into the dining area, took the proffered message, and kissed his mother on the top of the head. He sat down across from her. The seal sparkled when he broke it, indicating the proper recipient opened the letter. Anyone else who tried would find themselves with a ball of fire in their hands and a loud screaming sound that could and probably did wake the dead. Mail security made Voldemort's infiltration and monitoring of personal messages all the more extraordinary. The dark wizard, for all his evil intentions, often exhibited extreme magical talent.

"Huh. Change of plans tomorrow. Heading up to East Midlands instead of Essex," Dennis fabricated part of his statement. The letter from Mr. Odpadki asked if Dennis could work for part of the morning. "Still going to be an overnight run. Package first, and then transport the next day. Hope he gets a hotel with tubs in the room."

"Did he say what you're be moving?" His mother queried while flipping a page in a magazine.

"Doesn't seem to be his habit. Maybe he likes the surprise. Where's Dad?"

"Angelo's getting some alfredo, salad, and bread-sticks."

"Enough for three?" Dennis inquired.

"Have we ever let you go hungry?" His mother chided him.

He smirked. She ticked her head back and forth. A few seconds passed.

"Thought you were getting some coveralls?"

"Waiting for Missus Odpadki to alter them. Mister Odpadki said they needed to get a stain out, too. Said it bites."

His mother looked at him with a blank expression.

"Not dangerous, Mum. Just a stain," he responded to her expression.

"That bites? Well, what kind of stain is that if it's not dangerous?" She rumbled at him.

"Magical one."

She shook her head a little while lowering her eyes back to the magazine as she mumbled: "Your world sometimes."

Her comment annoyed Dennis. On one hand she like magicked items like the chalkboards or spells he used to help her clean. Yet a biting stain or a doubling-skink sent her around the bend. Years before he tried to argue how muggle activities, like autos, threatened the world with noxious exhaust, but she would dismiss the comparison. His father fell into the same pattern of thinking, except he even distrusted useful magic. Dennis stood.

"Going for a wash up and to organize my stuff for tomorrow," he announced.

"Mmm," his mother hummed without glancing up. It served as her default answer indicating she heard the person speak but did not listen to the words.

Dennis left and went to his room.

That evening over dinner he argued with his parents about the safety of his new job. His father, predictably, reacted poorly when his mother casually mentioned the biting stain. For the umpteenth time Duncan Creevey offered to find his son employment at the dairy where the worst he would face came in the form of an ill-tempered bovine. When Dennis flippantly inquired about the number of people who died over the years at the dairy, his father got quite cross and said one could not compare a magical menace to a herd of spooked milk cows. Underneath the man's statements, his son heard a reminder that Colin got killed by someone wielding magic. As a result, Dennis finished his dinner in silence. Then he went to his room after cleaning off the table using magic. His father shot him an angry scowl as a reward.

The next morning, he grabbed his pack and disapparated from his bedroom. He scrawled a note on the chalkboard that he departed early. After meeting with Mr. Odpadki and climbing aboard Kate, he stared out the lorry window watching the scenery. The southern suburbs of London seemed in a rush.

"Bad row with folks?" His employer asked following ten minutes of silence.

"Why would you say that?" Dennis countered without turning his head.

"Raised three children myself, so I know a good sulk when I see one, Dennis."

"Ever have muggle parents?"

"Can't say as I did," Mr. Odpadki rejoined.

"Ever have muggle parents who lost one of their children to a magic war?" Dennis pressed.

"Oh," the man whispered.

"Told 'em about the stain your wife was getting out of the overalls – and thank her for me, if you would – reminded them magic can be… well, not nice at times. Three years, Mister Odpadki, and I can't get 'em to see reason 'bout magic," he explained.

"The old blame the wand and not the wizard, but… can't say I'd think much different than them if I lost one of my children."

"Oh, so you'd blame all of magic instead of Voldemort?"

Mr. Odpadki paused for a moment and quietly replied: "No, s'pose not, but sometimes I wonder if maybe some people shouldn't be bound."

Dennis finally turned his head and gaped at the man.

"Look, they had to know early on something was off with Vol… him when he was a kid. He went to that school of yours. Didn't they figure out He-Who…" and he halted for a moment when Dennis threw him a sour look for using the old title before continuing." Yeah, alright, but it's a hard habit to break, but if they knew he wasn't right in the head, they could've bound his powers."

The large vehicle traveled east on the Staines By-pass from Staines-upon-Thames, where they met, toward their ultimate goal of the Queen Mary Reservoir. The Ministry actually hired Mr. Odpadki to remove an animated kelp creature set loose in the water. Mr. Odpadki got to charge the Ministry a higher rate than his regular customers, and promised Dennis at least ten galleons for a few hours work. Dennis knew he sold himself that morning. The current debate made the slowly crawling traffic tolerable.

"Not the point, Mr. Odpadki,' Dennis shot back. "Who'd make that determination… and where would it stop? Did you forget about the witch trials in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries? Do you want to be like that?"

"How many times have we heard people say 'Oh, yeah. Knew he was a bad one from the first day.' Shouldn't we take it more serious than we do?"

"But now you're saying the accusation is what matters. You'd force people to prove they're innocent… and that's not how it's supposed to work. That's how Voldemort ran his courts!"

Mr. Odpadki frowned at the traffic in front of them moving at less than half the posted speed.

"How many people would start using it for revenge against people they don't like?" Dennis continued to press his point. The man's frown deepened. "And why is it people always say they knew someone was a bad sort from the get-go, but didn't say nothing to the aurors? Huh? If you knew your neigbor'd gone mental and turned nutter, would you tell the Ministry?"

The man opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Dennis waited a full ten seconds for an answer. The silence did not surprise him.

"I heard Harry say one time Dumbledore knew Tom Riddle – who he was before he called himself Lord Voldemort – was going dark. Brought him to Hogwarts to try and turn him around and keep an eye on him. So, someone did know, and someone tried to keep Voldemort under control. How much worse would've been if Dumbledore didn't do that?"

"Yeah, I s'pose you got a point there," Mr. Odpadki spoke at last. "Forgot you know Potter and knew Dumbledore. Bet that was strange hanging around with the Boy Who Lived?"

"No, wasn't at all. Harry's a really decent bloke. Always treated me and Colin with respect. Never acted like he was better than anyone… and he had all that shit going on in his life," Dennis replied and became more somber as he thought of the famed wizard. "First year I was there he got caught up in the Tri-wizard Tournament. He hated it. Hated the fame. Hated the way people pointed at him and thought he cheated. The whole time someone was trying to kill him… and he went out of his way to be nice to me and Colin. People don't understand Harry at all."

"Sounds like you didn't like your time at Hogwarts all that much?" His employer swerved onto a different topic while shifting through traffic in order to prepare for the roundabout at Ashford Road.

"Me and Colin were kind of hyper 'bout being wizards, and that put people off," he started and gazed at the traffic struggling to organize itself. "Then coming from a muggle family meant we didn't know a thing 'about magic or any of this. Colin was me best mate, Mister Odpadki, and he got killed in the battle. After that… wasn't ever really right. 'Specially when I got outed in my… what?"

"You're gay?" The man grunted.

"Yeah. Got a problem with that? 'Cause I know how to disapparate from a moving car!"

"Ease up, Dennis," Mr. Odpadki nearly scolded him. "My brother's gay, and I never had a truck with him about it, so don't get your knickers in a twist."

Dennis tried to calm down.

"Explains a couple of things, you know?"

"Like what?"

"Like why you're so bleeding good with charms and transformations… and you already told me you used to hang around with ghosts and talk to pictures. Thought you might be a little soft in the head at first, but now… yeah, I know a little of what you went through," the older man said with clear compassion. "You won't get any grief from me on that score. Oi, wonder why I contacted you and not some of the other boys on the routes?"

Dennis shook his head.

"One day, Dennis. Just took one day, and I got a good read on you. You're smart and think fast. Can't see you're afraid of much… and the resin pit is a good test. You'd be surprised how many of the chaps shit their britches the first time they had to deal with Youngman and his mess. I knew it worried you some, but you never backed away. Youngman didn't scare you much, either."

"Want to bet?" The younger man quipped.

"Well, didn't show it then, and that's what it takes to work with him," Mr. Odpadki said in an approving tone. "They way I see it, if you being gay made a rough road of it for you at times, then you came out lot stronger. I just hope you can find a bloke who'll appreciate you for what you are."

Dennis' mouth dropped open.

"What? My brother Ollie was the best man at my wedding, and his Reg is a treat. I think the missus would like to trade me in for him from time to time. Hell, I think I'd like to trade Gennie in for Reg every once in a while."

Dennis snorted with amusement at the statements.

"I know why you didn't tell me straight away, Dennis, so no hard feelings on that score. Take it as a lesson, though. Be upfront with people so you know where they stand. It'll save you a lot time, and you'll know who the arseholes are from the start," Mr. Odpadki advised and grinned.

"Yes, sir," he agreed with the advice. After a few seconds he added: "Thanks."

"Nothing to thank me for. In this business you learn about folks real quick. Them what treats you like dirt for doing this job are the real garbage. Means they're not nice to anyone. Someone like Silas may act like a doxie at times, but he pays well, on time, and gives my name out to others. There's another lesson, too: watch what people do. It'll tell even more 'bout 'em."

"Oh, I learned that one a long time ago," Dennis replied. A very small list of friends from school proved the point.

During that ride Dennis could feel his relationship with Mr. Odpadki begin to change. He became less defensive and more open in conversation. It gave Dennis a reason to continue with the job.

When they approached the reservoir, their talk immediately jumped to what they might face. Both suspected a creature got made and abandoned in the holding pond. When they arrived, they saw the mobile pile of lake kelp swimming along one edge. Mr. Odpadki cast an impressive glamour on creature to hide it from casual observers. He also produced a vial of pixie saliva that, when rubbed onto eyelids, allowed them to see through the spell. Dennis made a mental note of each. The two men then went to work.

Their first efforts resulted in both them getting dumped into the reservoir several times. Mr. Odpadki thought ahead and brought an inflatable dingy. Every time they tried to grab the kelp creature, it fought back. They expected that, and it did not surprise Dennis in the least after facing an angry puddle of ooze. Moreover, when each attempted to levitate the mass from the water, it simply fell apart only to reform in the water. It did not take much to deduce what they faced would not be an easy task. Moreover, neither could determine exactly what animated the kelp.

Four hours later they leaned against the lorry, panting, and dripping wet.

"Who the bloody hell would ensnare a limnad and then make it invisible?" Mr. Odpadki angrily complained. "We're gonna report this to the Mysteries people."

"Took a lot of magic to do it," Dennis panted. The lorry shifted from side-to-side as the limnad fought its confinement. "Now what do we do with it?"

"Not sure to be honest. Think I might just haul it over to the Ministry and let them figure it out."

The smirked at one another.

"Feeling like coming along?" Mr. Odpadki inquired.

"I kind of want to say yes, but I need to get up to Nottingham to do some research for a friend. It's a real puzzler, Mr. Odpadki," he answered.

"Oh, what you got yourself into?"

"A murder case from seventeen-sixty-one. Trying to figure out who done in one of the ghosts at Hogwarts… and why."

"I see. I see. Going Wipple and Derge on me now, huh? Going to scamper off to fame and glory once you solve this case?" The man teased him.

"Do I look like a centaur? And I'm shite with alchemy," Dennis laughed in return. "Nah, this is just a favor to someone who was nice to me at school. Thomas doesn't deserve what happened to him."

"Fancy him now, do you?"

"Oh, shut it! He's straight. He's a ghost! How would that even work?"

They shared another laugh. Mr. Odpacki then held out a small cloth sack. It looked heavy. Neither needed to state what hid under the fabric.

"Alright, be off with you, then. Here's your pay, Dennis. You earned it. And tell that Hagrid fella I owe him an ale."

Dennis accepted the ten galleons promised to him. He stowed it in a wet coverall pocket. Then he smirked again before saying: "Don't know as I'd make that promise. Hagrid is half giant. You'd be serving him ale in buckets."

"Well, I owe him one bucket at least. Glad you got on with your teachers at school. There's another lesson: keep up with good contacts. Never would've thought of using honeyed lotus flowers to lure a limnad. Ever!" Mr. Odpacki offer yet another bit of advice.

"Worked a treat, though, didn't it? Hagrid is the best, and I always stop in for a cup with him when I can. He makes tea like dwarves go to war."

They laughed again, except Dennis laughed at the reality of Rubeus Hagrid's tea: it could knock a person's teeth out if one drank it too fast. Dennis liked it best on days when he did not get a lot of sleep the night before. Two cups of Hagrid tea would keep him awake all day even if it did make his vision blurry. Dennis fished around in the other wet pocket and pulled out his wand.

"Here, Mister Odpadki. Hold out your arms and legs," Dennis requested and partially mimed the action.

His employer gave him a funny glance, but did as asked.

"Ventignis," the younger wizard said as he moved his wand tip in a small, tight circle.

A warm, almost hot breeze blew from the wand. As it struck the clothing, the material dried. In a matter of two minutes, Mr. Odpadki stood completely free of dampness.

"Always forget that one. Give me a brush up on how to cast it and stretch 'em out," the older man insisted.

Three minutes later hot water vapor drifted through the air. Part of Dennis' left side got mildly steam-cooked until he yelped and Mr. Odpadki adjusted the flow of magic. However, it seemed a good idea to share the spell since Dennis suspected he would get doused on a regular basis while in the employ of Mr. Odpadki.

"Right useful spell there, Mister Creevey. Thanks!" The man said with a nod.

"First spell I learned at Hogwarts from Professor McGonagall. Fell into the castle lake on my way in. The giant squid saved me, and I showed up at the sorting ceremony a little damp. She dried me off before the First Day Feast. Later she taught it to me," Dennis recalled out loud.

"Well, good on you again for remembering. Now, be off with you. I'll send an owl around on Sunday night with the schedule. Your Mum got a good owl report yesterday. Whatever she did, she'd better be prepared to do it again."

"Oh, she is gonna love that!"

After final good-byes. Dennis disapparated to the Ministy. He checked the visuals registry for the Nottingham station sigil. The advantage of using Ministry apparation pads, or rather large slabs of enchanted green marble, came with the magic amplification. Dennis could apparate to a destination over twice his range. Fortunately, Nottingham sat within that amplified range. If it lay outside his ability, the spell would not work. Ministry apparation pads used safety checks. Before he left, Dennis converted some galleons into pounds since he did not know what accommodations he would find in Nottingham.

A kind kiosk attendant at the Nottingham Ministry Station gave Dennis a map of the area that highlighted accommodations for magical folk including bars, boarding houses, hotels, inns, markets, night clubs, and restaurants. He got shown the trick of activating the charm on the map that would show him the nearest amenities to where he stood at any given moment. The charm impressed Dennis, so he bought another map for 1 sickle and 20 knuts that he would dissect and experiment on at a later time. He loved practical charms. Following a brief conversation on where he should first go, Dennis stepped out into Nottingham.

St. Alban's at one time took a day's ride by horse to reach from the center of London. Modern thoroughfares meant the same distance, roughly forty kilometers, could be covered in roughly an hour depending on traffic conditions. St. Alban's retained some of its sixteenth century charm, although efforts to modernize began to strip the city of its heritage. However, it did not expand much further than its traditional borders in the last one hundred and twenty-five years. Nottingham easily compared to London and dwarfed Dennis' hometown by a considerable amount. When he stepped out of the apparation station hidden next to Crown and Country Court across an alley from some local businesses, Dennis knew he entered completely new terrain.

The volume of Nottingham reached his ears first, then the smells, and lastly followed by the limited sights due to his current location. It scared him. Dennis got used to the rather pastoral existence at Hogwarts and the quaint hominess of Hogsmeade. Even St. Alban's felt prosaic compared to what assaulted his senses. Despite visiting London on many occasions, Dennis felt out of his depth. It probably helped that he knew how to get to The Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. Conversely, he did not know the magical spots of Nottingham. After a quick glance around the alley, he pulled out his wand and touched it to the map.

"Map, map in my hand, I need to know the lay of the land," he mumbled and felt entirely childish. "Show me where I might find the Nottinghamshire Archives."

A bright green dot appeared on the map, and then a red one glowed not far away in map terms. It lasted for fifteen seconds and then faded. To the casual observer it would appear little more than a tourist map of Nottingham. Dennis grinned. He immediately thought of three ways he could improve the device. However, the fact he stood near a reasonable objective eased his trepidation. It took Dennis nothing to find Canal Street. He followed it west until Castle Wharf appeared. From there he could use the footbridge to cross Nottingham Canal, and then walk a short distance to the Archives.

A leisurely fifteen minute walk lead him to the Nottinghamshire Archives, located in one of the county houses. Feeling confident, he went inside. Five minutes later he felt less confident. A man and woman manning the information desk grilled him about his interest in the archives and then started to badger him for proof of identity. Only the fact he came from muggle parents saved the day. They forced him to get a Validate UK identity card when he turned eighteen. Dennis never used the card because in the magical world one's wand acted as a primary form of identification. He nearly forgot about his wallet containing his identification that lay at the bottom of his backpack. It remained untouched for the last two and a half months. Only a brief flicker of a memory saved him from being escorted out of the premises.

Five minutes later he got escorted to a reading room by one of the docents, a friendly elderly woman with steel gray hair tied into a bun on the top of her head. The floral print dress clashed with the vest she wore announcing her as an Archives employee. The heels of her sensible shoes clacked on the stone flooring as they moved along and created small peels of thunder when they climbed the stairs to the second floor. The reading rooms seemed squat compared to the high-walled hallways. Once in the room, Dennis received a tutorial on how to access the catalog system and request books. The computers meant Dennis might actually break the electronic retrieval system. He tried to angle his body away from the keyboard. Given he asked for historical records, he also got handed a set of white gloves for those times when he would need to look at the actual books.

"There's a chat window you can use right on the screen if you have any other questions," she told him after firing up the computer. "It's all pretty simple, really, if someone like me can learn to work it."

"Thank you. You've been really helpful… and I didn't mean to take up so much of your time," he apologetically said in the same manner he used with Mrs. Llewelyn at the North estate visitor center in Essex.

"It's no bother at all, dear. As you can see… we don't attract a huge crowd on a Friday," the woman replied through a smile.

Dennis grinned at her small joke. After patting him gently on the shoulder, she headed toward the room exit. Once the woman disappeared from view, he scrambled to pull his wand out of his pants pocket and stow it at the bottom of his backpack in the hopes it would insulate it from the electrical equipment. Although his wand never acted aggressive, Dennis feared it might decide to pick a fight with the computer systems. It would not take much to lay waste to every piece of electronics within a five-meter radius. While in his pack, Dennis pulled out his research notes and a pen. He then stared at the glowing monitor.

In primary school the year before he went to Hogwarts, Dennis got in trouble in the brand new school computer lab when several of the computers, all worth close to two thousand pounds, shorted out when he attempted to work on them. His pleas of innocence fell on deaf ears since no other student caused the same calamity. Only when he got to Hogwarts did he discover his nascent and growing magical abilities caused the wreckage. He and all the other first years from muggle households got advised to avoid electronics for that very reason. It dawned on the young Dennis at the time that his brother actively avoided watching the telly with him for two years when Colin came home on holiday. Moreover, Colin also ceased using the telephone. In time, Dennis would adopt the same practices. It seemed to be the first wedge magic introduced between him and he previous muggle life.

"Alright, here we go, and please don't explode," Dennis begged when he touched the keyboard and mouse. He felt himself trying to suppress his magical senses. "Please!"

Neither the keyboard, monitor, nor mouse lapsed into lifelessness from his touch. The central processing unit hummed along without any seeming anomalous behavior. Dennis silently thanked his magic for not lashing out at the equipment. He needed it to work for the success of his venture. Sometimes the young man wondered if magic might be sentient, although all his instructors at Hogwarts told him otherwise. With a tentative sense of assurance, Dennis began to decipher how to use the electronic records retrieval.

An hour and half later Dennis made serious progress. The printers saved him from developing a cramped hand, although he did take some notes here and there. He learned an extraordinary amount about the North family in Nottingham. They once held the deeds for huge tracts of land surrounding Nottingham. The original title of Earl of Nottingham got created in the 1377, but died out in 1383 when John de Mowbry failed to produce an heir. The title went through several creations, and the North's occupied it in one form or another during the third, fifth, and seventh creations. Several of Thomas' ancestors served as mayor, though none in the fabled sheriff position. They weathered the civil war, the Lord Protector period, and the development of the Commonwealth. Thomas became an heir the title as part of the seventh creation. Thomas Lester Jonathan North assumed the earldom in 1759 at the age of thirty when his father, Richard William Thomas North, died after falling off his horse during a hunt. Thomas would not assume the title for long.

"He died without leaving a son to take over," Dennis whispered to the screen as he read the accounts. "Huh, no one thought he got murdered."

In fact, the history seemed to indicated Thomas suffered from a genetic family illness that suddenly claimed his life in 1761 shortly before his thirty-second birthday. His younger brother, Edward Richard Charles, assumed and held the title for over fifty years and passed away in 1813 without a male heir. His eldest daughter married into the Hicking family in 1814, and they assumed the title through marriage. They held onto it from that day forward for one-hundred years. However, the industrialization of England, and the East Midlands in particular, severely weakened the power and prestige of the earldom until by the start of the first world war it got reduced to a figurehead status. The industrial magnates in the area slowly chiseled away at the lands, buying them up to build factories, and the poor fortunes of the Hickings required they sell. The last legitimate male heir of the Hicking's earldom died in the war, and the title passed to the Finch family. It continued to reside with them in one form or another.

Dennis got up and went to the printer to get his stack of printouts. He sat and read them over and over. Nothing in the family indicated any sort of lingering health problems. None of the North family died at an early age from a genetic condition, although various other diseases claimed numerous relatives of his both before and after his time. Thomas Lester stood out alone as the sole victim of a family condition. It looked suspicious on paper. It became even more suspicious when one looked at Thomas' ghost. He appeared a hale and hardy man at the time of his demise. The facts simply did not add up.

"What other reason was there to do you in?" He asked the empty room.

The young wizard went back to the computer and gazed blankly at the monitor. Nothing in the histories appeared odd, except Thomas' untimely death. Dennis stared at the words on the screen. Another anomaly slowly emerged. While the report on his father and brother ran at length, Thomas only got accorded five sentences. One stated his birth. Another described his young life through schooling and his role as second-in-command on the estates. The third talked about his marriage and his two daughters. The fourth centered on his attaining the title. The fifth just cited the year of his death. It became even stranger when the biography of Thomas' younger brother went at length to explain how Edward mourned his older brother for decades. Edward built an impressive mausoleum for Thomas in the family cemetery.

Dennis' eyes lit up. He copied down the address for the cemetery. The record even included a small picture of the tomb of Thomas Lester Jonathan North. The young wizard wanted to see it for himself. He harbored a secret hope he might run into a ghost or two who witnessed the burial, although Dennis realized Thomas' body likely did not get interred in it for some time following his death. The events around the man's demise made the scant entry regarding Thomas in the records all the more surreal. It appeared as though someone deliberately tried to marginalize his life. Unfortunately, the attempt to reduce it produced an opposite effect for those who cared to look. It stoked Dennis' inquisitiveness to a higher degree.

Sitting in an archive gave him access to all sort of maps. It did not take long to find the North family cemetery. It sat attached to the Memorial Gardens, south of the Nottinghamshire Archives and situated on the River Trent. The information Dennis found showed just under two hours remained before it closed for the evening. He raced to pack his belongs and depart the Archives. As he left, he saw no bus stations near the Gardens, but one got situated across the river on Loughborough Road within an easy walk. The nearby bridge offered both bicycle and walking routes.

A twenty minute bus ride and walk found Dennis staring up at the likeness of Thomas carved into stone. He did not think the bas-relief portrait did the man justice. The portrait of a woman got carved on the other side of the doorway. Edward, however, seemed to spare no expense in memorializing and preserving Thomas. It gave every indication Thomas' death proved a surprise as well as untimely. The family plots got situated in the northwest corner of the Memorial Gardens, and several other noble families also shared the grounds. Dennis recognized many of the names from his recent reading. The small cemetery appeared dedicated to the various families that occupied the earldom of Nottingham.

"So few come this way these days," a small, somber voice said from off to Dennis' left.

Dennis turned his head and saw the faint outline of a woman. From what he could see she dressed in typical the mid-nineteenth century fashion. A hat and veil covered her head, and a long gown flowed around her. Although the details got lost in the bright sunlight, the outlines gave it away. He also determined her to be in middle age.

"Hello," Dennis quietly intoned.

The ghost glanced at him in either shock or surprise.

"I'm a wizard," he explained.

"Ah. It seems an eon since your kind visited our grounds."

Remembering his manners, Dennis said: "I'm Dennis Creevey of St. Alban's. May I ask for your name?"

"I am Lucia Ada Hughes… or was," she told him.

"No, ma'am, you still are."

"Very kind of you, Mister Creevey. May I ask why you visit this plot?"

"Certainly," Dennis gamely agreed. "I am friend of Thomas North and came to see where he got buried."

"Lord North? There is no current Lord North in Nottingham, sir."

She sounded offended.

"No, no, please, you misunderstand. I know Thomas Lester Jonathan North… or rather his spirit," Dennis quickly explained.

The woman, what he could see of her, seemed aghast.

"Ma'am?" He asked.

"Impossible. Lord Thomas North died young and his spirit departed this realm," Miss Hughes said in a mixed aggrieved and sorrowful tone.

Dennis turned to face her. He saw the strain on her face. It appeared to familiar to him. Then the truth struck.

"Great Merlin, you're his daughter!"

"How would you know that?" She flung out the question in a sharp manner. The air grew cold between them.

"'Cause you look like him," he declared.

"I look nothing like that portrait, and…"

"No, you really don't understand," Dennis cut her off. "I really do know your father. He's my friend, and I'm trying to solve what happened to him."

"Thomas North died over two hundred years ago, and you are a mere strip of a boy!" Miss Hughes challenged.

"All true, but there's a lot you don't know."

"Such as?" She demanded.

"Such as he got murderer and cursed, and his spirit got banished to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… up in Scotland. That's where I met Thomas and got to know him. He is really and truly my friend!"

The almost fully transparent face stared at him. Dennis could feel the otherworldly scrutiny. It became plainly obvious his news disturbed her. However, she did not use the ghostly form of rejection by simply vanishing. Lucia Hughes remained.

"You swear by these words?" Miss Hughes darkly requested.

"I do. On my honor as a wizard and a Creevey," he said while pulling the wand out of his pocket and offering the handle to her as a symbol of his honest intent.

The long departed woman gazed at it. Then her head bobbed once. Dennis felt a shift in the air around him; a change in ghostly mood as he came to understand it over the years. The air grew warmer.

"He remained," she quietly said and floated closer to the living man.

"Thomas got cursed, Missus Hughes, so he had no choice. He got bound to Hogwarts. Whoever did it also put a silencing curse on him, and he can't speak about any of it. Took me a while to even get a little bit of information about his life," Dennis told her.

"Tell me all you know, please."

Dennis did. He revealed his discoveries and brief travels in search of the truth. The printed pages he brandished from his backpack helped the telling. Despite not knowing much more than he did two days before, he felt confident he set his feet on the right path. Mrs. Hughes silence during the entire tale seemed to confirm it. When he finished, they gazed at one another for a long moment.

"He was killed. Wronged and cursed, you say? But why?" The dead woman at last asked.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Your father can't tell me… or anyone, Missus Hughes, and I'm pretty sure he knows. He wants to tell me, but he just can't 'cause of the curse. Every time I find something out and tell him, it removes part of it… at least on that information. When I found out his full name, Thomas said it was first time he heard it since he died. He seemed really relieved. Can't imagine what it's going to do to him when I tell him I found you," Dennis stated at a fast clip.

"Mister Creevey, do you know why I am bound here?"

He shook his head. A sad expression coalesced on her face. Dennis formulated one guess as to what she would say.

"Because I never stopped mourning for my father. Even after I married Geoffrey, and Geoffrey provided me a wonderful life, I could not find a means to end my grief. I di… passed thinking of my father and how I missed him so, Mister Creevey. I think that is why I tarry at his grave," Mrs. Hughes confirmed what he thought.

"You were young when he died, so it makes sense. What about your mother and sister?" He inquired.

"Father's death devastated mother. Although Uncle Edward cared for her, she… five years later she followed her husband. Margery and I got left in the care of our uncle, and he did look after us. My cousins became like sisters. He arranged suitable marriages for all of us. Margery married William Holloway and went to live with him in Ireland. I saw little of her after that, though we wrote often. She, too, never ceased mourning our father. It darkened our days, Mister Creevey."

"I understand your loss," he quietly rejoined.

She granted him an askance look.

"My older brother got killed fighting Voldemort's forces three years ago. He was my best mate, ma'am. It hurts to think about him sometimes."

"I can feel your grief," the woman said and stepped closer to him. "I pray you, Mister Creevey, do not let it bind to this world. You must find solace if you can. Trust that if your brother loved you in life, it never ended. It never can."

"Thanks, but what about you? Now that you know about your father, can it release you?" Dennis asked.

"Perhaps… if I could only but see him one last time, my heart would know peace."

"Can you leave here? I mean, can you move around?"

"I never had cause to make the attempt," she glumly stated.

"But now you do. What if I brought back a map and showed you how to get to Hogwarts? Think you could go see him? Maybe spend some time with him? It'd mean the world to Thomas. I know it would!" Dennis offered.

"I… honestly, I do not know. My heart languished here for so long…"

"But it doesn't have to, Missus Hughes. I swear to you… I swear on my memories of Colin your father is up in Scotland. You're a ghost, so it shouldn't be a hard trip for you if I show you how to get there. You just need to try!"

Dennis felt desperate to get her to agree. The misery caused by Thomas North's murder amounted to more than five hundred years of grief among his immediate family. Half a millennia of sorrow seemed too high a price one family should pay. He truly understood that price because he and his parents paid it as well. The only saving grace came in the fact Colin did not feel the need to remain earthbound after death.

The woman slowly nodded her head and said: "Bring me the directions, Mister Creevey. At the least I can make the attempt. It just may be I waited this long to meet you so I could make my final farewells to my father."

"Could be," Dennis half-heartedly agreed.

Dennis did not believe in fate. Granted, he heard about the prophecy of Professor Trelawny regarding Harry Potter, but it did not sound so much like a prophecy as a series of conditional statements based on easy suppositions. Given at the time the Dark Lord rampaged through England and his forces terrorized Europe and parts of America, the prophecy did not seem like much of stretch. In fact, it appeared more of set-up for Voldemort: a trap of sorts. It got him to act against his own interests. His conceit, fear of death, and mortal vanity made him vulnerable to so-called prophecies. Sometimes Dennis wondered if Dumbledore, himself, did not enchant Trelawny to make the prophecy. It seemed like a trick the late headmaster of Hogwarts would pull.

"Missus Hughes," Dennis continued after a few seconds of pondering. "I'll return tomorrow morning when the Gardens open. I'll bring a map and show you where Hogwarts is located. I think you need to see your father as much as he needs to see you."

Surprisingly, the ghost of Lucia Hughes smiled at him.