Dennis used the magical map of Nottingham to find a place to sleep for night, and one that could provide meals in the evening and morning. However, after spending several hours in his room, one that took almost all of his remaining galleons, the taste for a pub burger and chips crept across his tongue. As Dennis put the finishing touches on the map he would show Lucia Hughes, the hunger for a destructively delicious pub hamburger took firm hold over his mind. Hence, he consulted the magicked map of Nottingham to find a place to eat. A check of his remaining muggle currency made him smile.

The Lion's Rose boasted one of the best, simple menus in west Nottingham. Moreover, it got situated on the same bus line as the inn where Dennis roomed. With his day ride pass still in effect, the young wizard made a hasty retreat to the pub of his choosing. The transport took just over ten minutes to deposit him close to the doorstep. When he entered, Dennis found himself in wonderful world.

Stepping through the double-door system led to an interior covered over in various layers of wood and varnish. The air hung heavy with scent of ten thousand pints sloshed and spilled, more fish deep fried than one could count, and aroma of sandwiches from days gone by. A long bar stood at the rear with enough stools to seat ten people. Along the exterior and leftmost wall, a series of booths awaited patrons. Tables draped over with red-and-white checkered cloth littered the area between the bar and the booths. To Dennis' left a separate room hosted a billiards table and several dart boards. A few old, seeming ancient video games lined one wall. Memories from childhood when his father would take Colin and him on his delivery rounds reminded him of the close, crowded, noisy, but mostly fun a pub environment. He began to drool as he made his way to a small table toward the far end of the pub. Few of the other many patrons paid him any mind.

Within a minute of sitting down facing toward the entrance, a rather harried woman who appeared to be in her late thirties approached and handed him menu. Dennis never bothered to open it. Instead, he said: "Um, Fanta orange if you've got it, and a pub burger… medium well, all the fixings, and some chips. And can I get a bottle of HP?"

"I don't recognize you," The woman said in a confused manner.

"Just a visitor, but been 'round to a few pubs with me pa when I was young. All I had to do was stick my head in and get a good sniff. Already knew what I wanted."

"Well, good on you, but we're out of Fanta today. Delivery never came. Will a Tizer do?"

"Fine and good with me."

"Be 'round with your Tizer in a jiff. Be 'bout ten minutes or so on the burger and chips," she informed him.

Dennis nodded and smiled. He sat and watched as people talked and enjoyed themselves. More customers arrived, along with his can of Tizer and a half-pint glass. He noted one group of five because it included a long, lean young man of clear African descent who brought to mind some of Dennis' former schoolmates. Thoughts of Blaise, Dean, Lee, and Roddy floated through his head as the group consisting of two couples and the dark-skinned man occupied a booth to Dennis' left. He continuously kept glancing as the table of friends as he waited for his meal and sipped on his soda. The African young man fascinated him. His eyes looked Egyptian. Dennis hoped he did not appear too obvious with his staring. Even after his plate arrived, his eyes kept darting toward the man.

Half the way through his meal and half the way through a bottle of HP Sauce, the young man got up from the booth. Dennis believed he meant to visit the loo. Instead, the young man angled straight toward him. Dressed in black jeans, dark trainers with gray socks, and a Gorillaz print tee-shirt, he looked mysterious and slightly threatening. Without so much as a word of leave, he sat down opposite Dennis. The dark face studied him.

"Alright. You've been putting eyes on me since I got here. Do I know you?" He asked in a melodic tenor voice.

"No," Dennis truthfully answered.

"Then what?"

Dennis shrugged and said: "You look like some mates I knew back in school."

"This racist?" The young man growled the words leaned forward.

"No, no. Not at all. You're just… well, not foreign… not like that, but… your eyes."

The staccato reply seemed to perplex the uninvited guest. They sat staring at one another. Dennis could see, from his peripheral vision, the man's friends watching the interaction. He began to review the exceptions to the secrecy statutes for all magical kind in the United Kingdom. Nervousness edged through him.

"My eyes, huh? What about 'em?" The unnamed stranger insisted.

"Knew a bloke in enforcement, see, and his eyes looked like yours. Said he got 'em from his Egyptian mother. I was just thinking you look Egyptian being all narrow like you are… like them carvings and paintings from the pyramids," Dennis verbally recalled what Kingsley Shacklebolt once told him.

The mouth with the full, dark lips crooked into a half smile. Dennis raised his eyebrows. He could not tell where the conversation might lead.

"You having one on me or… maybe you fancy me?" The man asked and his voice dropped down in volume.

"Beg pardon?" The young wizard blurted.

"The way you said what my eyes looked like sounded a bit more than – I don't know – interested."

Dennis read in the past about gay men who got set up and then beaten up. He damned himself for his inability to stop staring at the striking face and features. Just as Dennis slid his hand into his pocket to prepare to defend himself, the man extended a hand across the table.

"Cameron Vall. And you'd be…?" The young man apparently named Cameron asked.

"Creevey… uh, Dennis Creevey," Dennis said, removed his hand from his pocket, and then reached across the table with it.

Dennis felt a buzzing in his head when Cameron accept it and squeezed it. The hand felt as soft as it did strong. Long fingers wrapped around the back of his hand. He gave it a small shake before releasing it.

"So, uh, Denny Creevey, what are you doing here Nottingham? Never saw you 'round before and you don't sound like one of us," Cameron inquired.

"Research at the Archives on the North family," he stated his real business. "Came across something odd and wanted to sort it out."

Cameron's eyes narrowed and he said: "Kind of young to be an investigator, aren't you?"

Dennis shrugged and replied: "Didn't know there had to be any age to be interested in something. What about you? What're you into?"

A wicked grin crossed his mouth before he asked: "You mean now or before I came in here?"

The statement hit Dennis like a someone dropped a full brickbat on his head. However, old fears from his school days surfaced. During the last two months of his fifth year after he got outed, several of the boys teased him with fake advances. The did it to publicly humiliated him, and it worked on several occasions. Dennis felt a burning need for a close relationship with another person since the death of his brother, and it dulled his senses and wits. He became a target until he returned home for summer holiday. It continued again in the fall, but he became more jaded by that point. Plus, the mandatory personal defense classes Hogwarts instituted helped. Trying to explain his sexuality to his parents while they continued to grieve for Colin became a near impossible task. Thus, Cameron's double-entendre put him on further edge. Dennis leaned back in his chair.

"Whoa, mate. Relax," Cameron quietly said and held up his hands. "You just seemed like an interested bloke, and… well, I wanted to know how interested."

"Interested in what?"

Around them people laughed and talked while glasses clinked along with forks, knives, and spoons. More than three-quarters of the booths and tables seated patrons, and not a single stool remained open at the bar. Yet amid all the cheery noise of a pub, a strange silence settled over the table. Cameron started to stand.

"Look, sorry if I read this wrong, but the way you was staring at me, I just thought you wanted some get-to-know-me time."

Dennis hesitated for a moment while the young man got to his feet, then his brain scrambled and forced his mouth to say: "I'm gay, if that's what you want to know."

Cameron halted his movements. Then he slowly settled back down to his chair. The two young men regarded one another for a few seconds.

"So, um, mind if I snag a chip. I'm a right git for HP… like it seems you are," the re-seated young man inquired.

"You get one," Dennis agreed and held up a single finger.

"Any one I want?"

"Yeah, sure."

As expected, Cameron reached out and took the longest one from the pile and completely coated it in HP Sauce.

"That supposed to tell me something?" Dennis queried with less hostility in his voice.

"Depends on what you want it to mean," Cameron parried and smirked.

"Um, most of the… chips I've had – and I've not had a lot mind you – were all, um… average size. Not too long. Not too short. Um… all from, ah, white 'tatoes."

Cameron's grin grew wider. Dennis did not know the rules to the game his new guest initiated. However, he felt as though it represented some sort of code. Before anything else could get said, the waitress came up to the table. She wanted to know if Cameron wanted a replacement pint for the one he abandoned with his friends. The woman said they drank it for him. Cameron ordered another drink. Dennis ordered another Tizer. After she left, Cameron eyed him with a devilish look.

"So, now I'm really curious, how many… chips have you had?"

"Me? Just five."

"Five!" Cameron half-barked. "Where you been living mate? In a cave?"

"Kind of, I guess," Dennis said and shrugged again. His nerves twanged at revealing too much information, and small snort, almost a giggle, emerged. "Went to a, ah, private school up in Scotland."

"Oh, posh life, huh?"

"No. Scholarship, more or less. My dad's a milk runner in St. Alban's, so can't say it's been posh for me."

The two lapsed into silence again. They regard one another, but it felt less guarded. Dennis felt himself relax, and he allowed a small grin to form.

"Had a rough go in school that last two years when everything came out. Sorry if I acted like a twit. Just sort of a reaction I picked up," he explained.

"Right along there with you. Try being African and gay in an industry town like this. If they don't hate you for one thing, then it's t'other. Bonus for them if they can hate you for both," Cameron told him without a hint of mirth in his tone. He also appeared very serious. "They all know me here, so when I caught you making eyes at me, I… felt safe coming up to you."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that, Cameron…"

"Just Cam. Only my parents call me Cameron," He instructed, then seemingly switched gears. "So you know: I came up to you to find out if you were gonna try and beat the shite out of me when I headed out. Wouldn't be the first time a facker tried that."

"Do I look like I can beat the shite out of anyone?" Dennis countered.

"Don't know, mate. Some of you skinny blokes are wicked strong and fast. Never can tell who might be training and sparring on the side."

"Well, you got the skinny part right."

Then they laughed together. The conversation centered on what they experienced while growing up gay. Dennis began consuming the last of his meal, and Cameron assisted with the chips and HP Sauce. The wizard tried to be circumspect, but Cameron wanted details. When the subject of Colin finally surfaced, it changed the tenor of their talk. Dennis could not hide the emotion that rose up with any mention of his departed older brother. Cameron watched him with a sympathetic expression.

"I can tell you two was close. It's written all over you, Denny. Sorry you had to go through that. Can't imagine what it's be like if my sister or brother went out in an accident like that," Cameron offered a form of condolences.

"Yeah, thanks. After that, school just got worse and worse for me. Ended up hanging out with the teachers and instructors mostly. Learned a lot, but can't say it was a lot of fun," Dennis attempted to cap the subject.

"That why you started investigating?"

"A little. Doing this for a friend, really, to be honest. Heading back to the school tomorrow to let him know what I found out. Dug up some important bits about his family's past."

"Can't believe you'd go to the Archive without someone forcing you. I got so sick of school by the time finished. Never wanted to go university 'cause of it," Cameron stated.

"So, what do you do?" Dennis shift the subject onto his guest.

He learned Cameron went into the trades and apprenticed to become a licensed plumber. Cameron leaned forward at one point and whispered that plumbers usually made more money than a college professor. The news impressed Dennis. As their talk meandered, a young woman came to the table.

"Okay, Cam, I guess you found desert," she coyly remarked.

"Ha, ha," Cameron droned. "Denny, this Julia. Julia… Denny."

"Nice to meet you," she said and held out a hand.

"Likewise," Dennis said as he accepted it and gave it a small shake.

"We're heading over to Tadger's…" Julia, a well-figure woman with long auburn hair, and creamy brown eyes.

"Tadger's?" Dennis snorted.

"It's what we call it. Just a pool hall, but some of the guys there…" she replied while her face turned a light shade of pink.

"Think I'll stay here talking to Denny… if you don't mind," Cameron said and turned to him.

"Yeah, yeah. It's been nice having someone to talk to while I eat," Dennis readily agreed.

"Um, Denny, so you know: Cam has a thing for blondes, so I'm not sure he means just talk," Julia warned him.

"Fack off," Cameron grumbled through a grin.

"Well, it's probably a good thing I'm a ginger then," he played along.

"No, that only makes it ten times worse for you," she intoned with a wink.

Dennis felt his face heat up. Cameron and Julia both chuckled at his physical response.

"He's a cute one, Cam," Julia remarked when they eased on the snickering. "Don't forget we're meeting at Anne's tomorrow for the movies."

"Got it here," Cameron answered and tapped his head.

"Okay, you know where will be if, ah, well… whatever. Come join us for pool if you want," she offered. "Nice meeting you, Denny."

"Okay, sure. I'm shit at the game, but… maybe. A pleasure, Julia," Dennis rejoined and stood a little as his father trained him to do when a woman made an exit.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, Julia. Tell everyone not to wait for me tonight," Cameron answered in a very definite manner without standing.

Cameron did not make a promise so much as a prediction. The two young men did not go to the pool hall. Instead, the next morning Dennis awoke to find a handsome brown face staring at him with coy smile on the lips.

"You looked so peaceful in your sleep," Cameron said at a low volume. "I didn't want to wake you."

"What tie…" Dennis began to say and yawned.

"A little before nine. Did you know you talk in your sleep?" The naked young man next to him asked.

"Yeah, my roommates used to complain about that," he admitted.

"Didn't sound like English."

"Probably Latin. Had a hell of time keeping up with it."

"You really did go a private school. They're the only ones who teach Latin anymore," Cameron said in surprise.

The small inn room consisting of a single-sized bed, an end table, a small dresser, and a washstand felt comfortable and warm. Dennis' backpack sat on a chair next to a tiny round table. The cheap room did not even come with a television, but Dennis never cared about that. His magic would likely burn it out, like the one at home, if he turned it on. Clothes littered the floor and not his alone, along with a few plastic wrappers. A hand slid along his chest. It made his body tingle and respond.

"How, um, did an Aero Bar stack up against chips?" Cameron playfully inquired.

Dennis grinned and replied: "The best chocolate I ever had."

"Ever have chocolate before?"

"No, but always wanted to try some. I think you set the standard really high, mate."

Dennis got rewarded with a broad, toothy smile.

"You're really handsome, Cam. Beautiful, really," the young wizard said in quiet, thoughtful voice. "And you're a lot nicer than almost anyone else I ever met."

"You just met the wrong people, Denny, and I can say all the same things about you. Plus, that was the most intense sex I've had in a long time," his new friend rejoined. "Think I could talk you into moving to Nottingham?"

"After one… night. Come on, Cam. You don't even know me, to be honest."

"That's the point, isn't it? I want to get to know you a lot better. There's something different about you. Something I can't quite figure out, but I want to. It's not like you're hiding something, but there's… I don't know, a part of you that seems… walled off."

Dennis shrugged. Through the night Cameron hid nothing. He took Dennis to places Dennis never knew existed, and the temptation to discover more called to him like a siren song. Moreover, he found Cameron to be attentive, determined, and gentle. It became readily evident Dennis lacked experience, and the dark-skinned young man took that aspect in stride. The wizard felt fulfilled in ways he did not know he could. He pressed a hand against Cameron's chest. The difference in skin could not be any starker, yet it did not present a detriment.

"By Barnaby, I love your color," Dennis whispered in appreciation.

"Some people might take that to be racist," Cameron warned.

"Do you?"

The man smiled again and shook his head. Then he tilted his head. Dennis' lips met Cameron's. Although not as feral as what they shared during the night, it felt important. It communicated to Dennis in surprising ways. He felt the magic in his body react.

"Oh! What's that?" His friend teased as their faces continued to press together.

"My… magic wand," Dennis said and giggled at the secret play on words.

For the next hour they reenacted the previous night's performance. With daylight pouring in through the window, Dennis committed to memory everything he saw. Cameron's body awed him. The personality it contained even more so. The temptation to loll in Nottingham continued to worm through his brain as he enjoyed what Cameron offered yet again. In more respects than he could count, a large part of him seemed actualized. Although people might criticize him for spending the night with a virtual stranger, Dennis shoved that concern aside and gave into his desires and wants.

"Denny?" Cameron softly said his name as they stood at the washbasin and cleaned off the sweat.

"Hmm?"

"Think you might come back around this way anytime soon?"

"Uh, what do you think?" Dennis answered in a droll manner.

Cameron smiled. Dennis continued to dry the amazing body standing before him. The young man made him feel skinnier than ever, but it did not seem to matter.

"Now that I think about it, I'll probably be coming back fairly often as I try to sort out this investigation. I got some good stuff I need to report, but… this ain't over. There's still a lot I need to find out."

"Think you might need a place to stay when you do?" Cameron not-so-transparently queried.

"Do I hear an offer?" Dennis countered

"You do."

"Then I'm gonna need an address."

"And numbers," Cameron continued.

"Only got the phone at my parents' house. I don't have a good track record with mobiles," Dennis said and tried to sound embarrassed.

"Loose 'em a lot, huh?"

"And break 'em and dunk 'em in water and make a right mess out of them all the time."

"My older brother is the same way. Can't keep a mobile working to save his arse," the dark-skinned young man said through a chuckle. "So, are you coming back 'round tonight?"

"Don't know yet. Depends on what I find out. Got to go through some more records, and I need to make a report. Then I need to find out what Mister Odpadki has planned for next week," the light-skinned young man returned.

"Garbage collection, huh?"

"Waste removal. What we deal with isn't your typical bloody trash, and that's the reason we get paid so good."

"Alright, then. Give me a ring when you get the chance to let me know what you've got going on."

"Count on it," Dennis promised.

Even after Cameron took his leave and Dennis finished altering a map, the young wizard continued to think about the young African-descended man. He understood he fell into the somewhat sordid negative characterization of gay men and their penchant for sex. However, given that Dennis just experienced his first tryst in over a year, he thought it placed him outside of that categorization. Even while packing his belongings the wizard tried to sort through what it could all mean. Dennis knew, however, he really wanted to spend more time with Cameron.

"I get where your mum was coming from, Séamus," he muttered as he vacated the small room.

Well past noon Dennis arrived at Hogwarts. It seemed impossible the castle stood as quietly as it did. The giant squid floated languidly in the lake as clouds hurried past in the sky. They also seemed to be gathering, and Dennis could sense a proper Scottish storm collecting itself. He made his way through the castle, waved at Mr. Filch who informed him he should not be on the grounds, and traversed to the promontory. It appeared deserted. The mortal young man grin at the deceptive appearance.

"Lord North?" He promptly said the name when he stood in the proper location.

"I hardly qualify as such anymore, Mister Creevey," the somewhat hollow voice rejoined. "I assume by your appearance here you bring news."

Dennis could not hide the grin that took firm root on his mouth. He angled his head so he could see the outline of Thomas North. He looked exactly the same as before.

"I would hazard a guess you made progress?" The ghost inquired and nearly sounded impatient.

"Yeah, some, but I discovered something even more important," he replied.

"Mister Creevey, I possess time enough to spare, but dawdling still annoys me."

"Fine, fine. Okay, I learned a lot about your family history. Your brother Edward built you a fine tomb where they buried all the other Earls of Nottingham. Your wife is buried with you. Sorry to say, but she didn't last long after you got killed," Dennis reported the most salient highlights.

"My dear Katherine," Thomas whispered the sentence.

"She didn't… well, she's not a ghost from what I could find, but I did meet someone who knows you."

Thomas did not speak, but subtly shifted his head.

"I met Lucia."

"Your jest is in horrible taste," Thomas growled.

"Not a joke, Thomas. I met your oldest daughter and spoke to her just this morning," Dennis defended his news. "She never stopped morning you. She married and had children, but I don't think you ever left her mind."

"Sweet Lucia?"

Dennis nodded at the supposed question.

"How terrible for her to share the same fate as I," Thomas moaned. "This is too much, Dennis."

"Maybe, but I showed her how to get to Hogwarts and this very spot. She said she's going to leave the cemetery and come straight here to see you," the wizard stated.

Thomas gaped at him.

"I'm not pulling your leg, Thomas. She really is going to try and come here. She seemed pretty set on it this morning. Can't say how long it will take it her, but I'd bet my last galleon you're going to see her again."

"Mister Creevey, I cannot… how can I… if this comes to pass, I will be forever in your debt!"

The wind picked up, a sure sign of the building storm, but the two men remained standing. The lake looked gray instead of blue, and the water birds grew quiet. Yet on the spot on the cliff all seemed cheery. Dennis smiled at his incorporeal friend.

"You don't owe me anything, Thomas, and there's still a lot more I've got to find out. Someone killed you and tried burying you in the history books. But I don't think they counted on your brother. He kept your name alive. Lucia said he grieved for you as well. Your death caught everyone by surprise, and now I know there's a ton more to dig up… so to speak."

"But even should you find nothing further and Lucia makes her way to me… that is the one of greatest gifts I can imagine. Our reunion will bring me untold joy. In that you shall earn my eternal gratitude," the spirit of the man pressed the point.

Dennis simply shrugged.

"You are proving yourself a remarkable young wizard, Dennis, and a far better friend than I have known these past two-hundred and forty years. I know what you claim to be your motivations for lending me this aid, but you have acted far above what any could expect."

"Okay, enough, Thomas. I get it, and you're welcome. To be honest, I'm getting my fair share out of this, too. Met a bloke in Nottingham yesterday. Let's just say we hit it off real well," and Dennis could feel his cheeks turn warm.

"You are as deserving of your allotment of happiness as any, Mister Creevey, and I sincerely hope that association blooms for you."

"Yeah, me, too," the living young man quipped. Then he shook his head to stow the distracting thoughts before he physically reacted. "Oi, let me show you what else I learned."

Despite knowing he raced against the impending storms, and Scotland could brew them in record time, Dennis went over the sheets he printed and gave greater details about his discussions with Lucia. It did not take a master sorcerer to see how much the news of his daughter and family impacted Thomas. While it did not yield any clue as to the cause and culprit of his murder, it lent a happier aspect to the whole affair. Some of the two and half century old misery got dispelled.

When the rain began to spatter on the parchment, Dennis quickly rolled it up and shoved it in his backpack. Then he bid a hasty good-bye and retreated toward the castle. Thomas stood facing the growing onslaught as if it meant nothing to him, which in reality it did not. He also seemed a bit brighter to Dennis. However, the rain drove the circumstances. The castle beckoned to him. Dennis went in search of his favorite professor.

"I'm happy to report, Mister Creevey, that Professor Flitwick is enjoying some well-earned time away from the school. He is off visiting family, not that it is any of your concern," Headmistress McGonagall informed him in her austere and stiff manner.

"Yeah, he deserves it," he mumbled.

"How kind of you to concur."

Dennis stared at the elderly woman who did not seem to age a day since he first met her over seven years before. She also continued to wear her emerald-colored velvet robes and hat. The square spectacles rested on the end of her nose, and she gazed downward through them. Dennis only visited Headmaster Dumbledore a few times in the office, and it hardly seemed able to contain the man. In her own fashion, Minerva McGonagall filled the space as well. During his last three years of school, the aged witch slowly transformed the office and title into her own. Hogwarts prospered under her care and watch following the devastating war.

"Filius led me to believe you've taken it on yourself to investigate the happenings of one Silent Thom the ghost?" The headmistress asked in an offhand manner.

"Thomas Lester Jonathan, Lord North, Earl of Nottingham," Dennis recited the full name of the man. "Yeah, I did. Someone did him wrong, and I want to try and help set it right."

"Commendable of you."

"No, professor, what happened to Thomas is really wrong," he emphatically added.

Ten minutes later Headmistress McGonagall gazed at Dennis with a fairly surprised look. Everyone knew the story of The Bloody Baron and The Gray Lady. Neither of them, however, got sentenced to an afterlife of near silence. In the back of his mind, Dennis began to wonder about the stories of the other ghosts, save Sir Nicholas who let everyone know all the time the tale of woe concerning his botched beheading.

"I say admirable as well as commendable, Mister Creevey. Perhaps we should look into the lives – or former lives – of the ghosts to see what we can do for them," said the elderly woman in both at canny and thoughtful manner. "Take Peeves for example…"

"He's happier as a spirit then he was as an alive person," Dennis interjected.

"But surely you know about him?"

The young man nodded, and his mouth stayed closed. After he thought for a few seconds, he asked: "I bet it's a safe… bet that Professor Dumbledore knew Peeves' story."

"Not that he told me," McGonagall rejoined. "I'd wager you managed to get the story out of Peeves."

"Maybe, maybe not. Either ways it's not my story to tell even if I did know. Like I said: Peeves likes his, well, I guess life… afterlife, or whatever it is he's… living."

Headmistress McGonagall smirked at the tortured manner it took to talk about the various haunts and specters of Hogwarts. Dennis knew Peeves could be very problematic for the administrators of the castle. Argus Filch waged a decades-long battle with the poltergeist, and never made a single centimeter of headway. Moreover, Peeves respected very few of the teachers, some of whom he flagrantly taunted for both how and what they taught. In both the spring and fall Peeves would disrupt as many of the start of term classes as he could fit into his schedule. Most of the students severely disliked the poltergeist, yet that only seemed to feed his antics. Regardless, Dennis would not take part in exorcising Peeves from the castle. Hence, his knowledge of the spirit would never see the light of day without a direct request from Peeves.

"Peeves enjoys himself far too much. He's a bloody menace half the time," the current leader of the school grumbled, and seemed to hunker in her tall high-backed chair as if the pesky specter might suddenly appear.

"But has he ever hurt anyone?" Dennis verbally parried.

"He'll throws the odd item at someone every now and again. He's knocked my hat off more times than I can count."

"Yeah, it's annoying, but does he do any real harm?"

"Are you defending Peeves, Dennis?" Headmistress McGonagall asked, but it sounded more like an accusation.

"Yeah, I am. He's my friend," Dennis soundly replied.

The old woman eyed him for a few moments and then said: "You may be the only person in living memory who ever said that."

"He treated me a fair sight better than most of the people I went to school with here, so I sort of owe him," he replied in a scornful manner.

"Mister Creevey, perhaps you view those events with a jaundiced eye," she tartly rejoined.

"Oh, gee, ever get around to asking yourself why one of your students hung out with paintings and ghost so much? You didn't seem to care a whole lot…"

"I needed to look after an entire school, Dennis. While I grant you suffered a disproportionate amount, you cannot claim to be entirely innocent. You and Mister Ackerly did carry on in an unseemly manner, need I remind you?"

"No, we didn't. We kept it as quiet as we could. It was the others who made a show of it. I think what you heard is a little inaccurate! Not that you spent any bleeding time looking after the house you were the headmistress of!" Dennis all but berated the woman.

Professor McGonagall appeared shocked at his statements. One hand pressed against her chest below her throat as if deprived of breath. Dennis heard her claims while a student that Gryffindor House needed to bear her split attention for the good of the school until such time as she found a new headmaster for the house. It took her over two years to find the replacement, and during that time Dennis suffered the worst of his torment. He always faulted the woman for failing to properly look after the Gryffindor students and him

"Don't," Dennis jumped in as she opened her mouth. "I don't want any excuses or apologies, Headmistress. What's done is done and can't be undone. I learned long ago who really cared for me and who didn't. I made my peace with it… including my failings. I suggest you do the same."

"Mister Creevey!" McGonagall gasped.

Dennis stood and placed the napkin on her desk.

"Please, give my regards to Professor Flitwick when he returns. I don't think I'll be coming back here for a while 'til I learn something," he told her.

"When you do, Dennis, I would appreciate if you could make some time to speak with me. I'd like to… clear the air between us," she requested in her usual stentorian manner.

"Maybe, if we're actually going to talk, but, no, if you're just going to try and lecture me. Those days are over, Professor. Really over."

She nodded her head. Without another word, even a farewell, Dennis exited her office. It continued to irritate him she viewed the events during his student years as mostly his fault. The automatic stone stairs took him to the ground level. From there, Dennis aimed even lower. He navigated the master stairwell until he stood on the dirt far below.

"Luminos," he said and held up his wand.

The area lit up. He glanced around until he saw the small white patch on the ground. He took a minute to collect himself.

"Peeves?" He said the name at a low volume.

"I wondered when you would come around to make leisure with an old friend?" Peeve's nasally voice whined. "You did not seem at all pleased as you left McGonagall's office."

"No, not really," Dennis replied as he turned around to find the ancient poltergeist floating ten centimeters off the ground.

"Methinks the Weavey Creevey is still vexed?" Peeves taunted him.

"What it my fault, Peeves?" The living man burst. "Was the way they treated me fault? Did I do something to really deserve all that bloody grief?"

Peeves floated closer to him, and his smile faded at the same time.

"Children are cruel," Peeves said without any semblance of humor. "In my time I've seen such tragedies enacted by children against one another that thou would scarce believe. Oft I am called callous and wanting of manners, yet I say to thee, Creevey the Snot, never once did I partake in a jest that lead another taking his own life. This I have seen too much."

The statements from the poltergeist struck Dennis like thunder, even while a peel of it rang through castle from the storm outside.

"Thou art not the first to seek comfort among the departed that roam these halls, as I've told you in the past. And, true, sport I made of thee, but I say again you are stronger for it. That you return to lend succor to those of us who haunt these stones is a testament to your grit. As for thy question: what matter does it hold any longer upon those whom you can lay blame for your troubles? Thou survived, Creevey, and for what more could thee ask?" Peeves continued in his somber manner.

"How about someone to say they're sorry for what they did?" Dennis shot back as an old anger bubbled in his stomach again.

The specter hove in close to his face. A cold draft came off the stern visage of the poltergeist. Dennis could make little of the expression.

"And then what?" Peeves queried.

Dennis remained silent.

"You knowest my fate, Creevey, and yet all these years I never begged for apology even once. That there are none left to offer any is of no consequence," the poltergeist sneered at him. "Fie on it, I say. Fie! I hold my own esteem of greater value than whatever remonstrations could be proffered. Think well on what it is thou truly desires. That which cannot lend thee increase, cast aside, Snot, and think no more on it lest it hitch you to a woeful fate!"

Peeves then shot straight up through the stairwell and disappeared. He left behind a cold young man who felt more like a child at present. The poltergeist neither teased nor taunted, but seemed to speak truly from his heart. It came as brutal to Dennis, but the words stuck in his brain. The young wizard sighed.

"Still throwing things at my head, eh, Peeves?" His whispered.

With the words still echoing inside of him, Dennis began his ascent after extinguishing his wand. Peeves never pulled a single punch in all the time the young man knew the spirit. He proved again what power lay in the thousand years of his existence. Moreover, Peeves did so with an uncommon seriousness. Dennis realized he would spend the weekend left to him pondering the statements. Once he reached the main foyer, Dennis apparated to Nottingham, and then to the Ministry. From there he took the short hop to home.