Stuff Your Mouth With Cotton

It turns out he's not actually in trouble because they can't do anything to punish him. Apparently, being dead, he's no longer a pupil of the school, so therefore they can't take points or put him into detention. Really, this death thing came with a load of perks, being at Hogwarts (his home) forever, but not having to be a student? Being able to do whatever he wanted? Amazing. Seriously!

Although, it seemed emotions were still a thing that continued to overwhelm him at the most inappropriate of times. For example, he was still able to feel almost obnoxiously guilty, for reasons he didn't even know. He'd found out soon after Ron's outburst, that Mrs Weasley, (and actually most of the Weasley's, and Dumbledore. And Hermione. And the weird scarred man) was crying for him, as well as Ginny. And, boy if that didn't make him feel guilty, he was meant to make it better! And it just ended with so many people crying. Over him!

And when he tries to reassure them that he didn't mind dying- it was bound to happen sooner than later, especially at the Dursley's- it just made them look sadder.

He honestly isn't sure what to do.

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Harry meets Remus Lupin. It's an awkward affair, and Harry realises he's probably going to introduce himself more as a dead man than alive. He doesn't know what to think of that. It went something like this:

Mr Lupin has slipped back into the Infirmary a while later, once Ginny was forced into a dreamless sleep and given many potions, quietly standing against the wall, Harry doesn't realise he's actually there until Dumbledore has led him over to him. Hermione was sent back to the dormitories with a dreamless sleep potion with Ron and the rest of the Weasley's (in school).

Dumbledore leads Mr Lupin forward with a hand on his shoulder, as of this middle aged man is a school child as young as Harry. (Harry observes later, that Mr Lupin is not actually that old, just aged).

"I'd like to introduce to you, an old friend of your Father's, Remus Lupin", Dumbledore speaks with a great calm that seems to be false, the twinkling in his eye no longer seems merry, but the shine of unshed tears. It's strange seeing the headmaster like this, like seeing God on their knees. But right now all emotions seem absent, his attention zeroing in on this connection to his father.

"You knew James?"

CHANGE IN POV

It's too much in one day. He was dragged out of the middle of Wales, by Dumbledore, with nary a warning, to see his dead best friend's dead son in ghost form in front of him. Now Dumbledore's introducing them. And Harry's eyes were shining as much as they could in the dull of the dead, asking after James. (To Harry, apparently James wasn't 'Dad', James never really had the chance).

He tries to push away the memories, feeling like dementors are surrounding him, speaking slowly, (otherwise he might start crying).

"Yeah, I knew him, as Dumbledore said, best friends, throughout all of Hogwarts." A small gulp of air, Harry is floating, a ghost, "met on the train as First Years." Remus takes the chance to look at Harry, as Dumbledore ushers them to a private room on one side of the Infirmary, "The best man I ever knew".

He's transparent, Remus can see the flagstones through his torso. "He looked so much like you," he comments, only slightly sadly. And that's true, Harry's colours may be dull, looking like the sun has bleached the colours from all of him, skin that would have been a copper colour, hair black, and eyes green as Lily's were. He's too skinny though, through the robes, the hollow of his cheekbone is too apparent for a -dead- twelve year old, same with his collar bone, it shows where his robes has been slipping off his shoulder. "You look a lot like Lily too though."

Harry perks up even more at that, arms gesturing widely as he asks a question. And Remus answers. Harry's nose looks like Lily's, the same tilt and shape, and it's not just the colour of his eyes, but his eyelashes that match Lily's, long enough to make girls be jealous of them when he's older. (Not that that can happen now).

They spend a lot of time in that room, talking about the past, Harry mentions some of his childhood, "Petunia and Vernon were good enough, and as much as I love Magic, I actually enjoyed the muggle subjects at school."

It doesn't escape Remus' notice that Harry calls his Aunt and Uncle by their first names too. They never earned the title of Aunt or even mum, Uncle or even dad. That they were "good enough", and Remus wonders what that actually means, that they were good enough replacements for parents? That they were good enough at keeping him alive? He needs answers, he knows now is not the right time, but when is the right time? It's not like Harry is ever going back there… Harry carries on talking, seemingly oblivious of what's going on inside his mind.

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It's his funeral. Which is strange. It turns out being a ghost has some perks, mainly a slight sort of magic, being able to transfigured his clothes in a slight way- something McGonagall taught him. So now he's wearing a black suit that fit better than any of his normal clothes. And now he is sitting in the front row of his funeral, next to Hermione and most of the Weasley family- it seems they were surprised when Charlie showed up, wanting to pat his respects to the boy who helped smuggle a dragon out the castle- and the teachers.

He was surrounded by black. He has never been to a funeral before, and never realised how… dim it felt. It all felt a bit awkward, out of place, he wants to desperately shout at everyone to cheer up, it's not like he's actually gone, is it? A lot of it is due to the fact Dursley's didn't want, no. Couldn't be bothered to attend. This had raised some questions and well… what they found out wasn't pretty. Rumour had spread and now… if no one feels sorry for him, now they do.

McGonagall has a permanent tissue in her hand, most of the teachers look so different. It's not the first time a pupil has died in the castle, but Harry is The Boy Who Lived, he survived and died for someone else. Only Snape doesn't look different, apparently the snarl etched on his face is intact permanent. Since his usual robes are black, Harry almost expected him to wear something else at his funeral, but nope, the same black robes.

But it's not just the teachers, it's everyone, people from every year and every house are there, not because they liked him, (very few people actually liked the boy who had too much spirit for his own good, who did his best to make everything right), no. They came and mourned and grieved because they were guilty. Draco Malfoy is day somewhere near the back, his parents beside him, they don't have seats; instead they are standing formally, and Draco looks uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Harry wants to talk to him. But he doesn't. Not for now.

People find it disconcerting when the ghost of the person of the funeral your attending talks to you.

It's not like it's a surprise, especially when many of the students he knew burst into tears when he moved to say hi to him, it is a surprise that the other ghosts of Hogwarts have also gathered, floating at various levels, even Peeves was standing respectfully, mouth shut and eyes lowered, though Harry often catches a glimpse of mischief in them.

Dumbledore is speaking, something about courage and love and Hogwarts. He tunes it out slightly, it's a bit surreal to hear the eulogy made for you.

The rest of the funeral goes by in a blur. He's buried in a small graveyard on the grounds that he's never seen before. A small simple grave under a tree in full bloom. Petals are already drifting down to land on the freshly turned earth when everyone leaves.

There's a wake afterwards, inside the Great Hall that makes him understand why the other ghosts hold birthdays with half rotten food on display. His last meal was the treacle tart at dinner, and though he isn't actually hungry… by Merlin does he want to eat. It's odd, deprived of food all his life and never wanting a huge feast, he wished nothing more than to eat the entire buffet available. Maybe it's to do with the fact that he's never going to be able to eat again. Ever. It's a strange feeling. Not being allowed food vs not being able to eat.

Harry ignores it for now and enjoys his party.

The wake ends. And he's left alone. Well, not really, his friends are ushered away by their parents, and all the teachers leave to pack up for the summer (a student died, the school shuts down early. And resumes as normal in the summer. There's something wrong about that, he's sure, but he can't keep his mind still enough to figure it out). All that is left are the ghosts.

Harry knows they've been waiting to get him alone, not in a sinister way, more of a "welcome to the undead club!" Sort of way. It's still uncomfortable.

Peeves approaches first. Moving in the dizzying way he does, flitting this way and that, still in that mocking voice that seems a touch less… mocking that usual. "So little Potty's one of us now?" He swoops in until they're eye to eye then just as quickly moves back out, "this'll be interesting!" He crows, "imagine all the tricks we can do! The professors will never see their lil, defenswess potty wotty will be be the cause of it all!" Peeves cries out in glee and shoots out of the Great Hall, off into a shadowy side corridor to scheme.

"Ignore him," it's a voice he's never heard before, male, gruff and low. He looked away from the doors and to the owner of the voice. The Bloody Baron.

Harry's mouth actually drops in shock, he might not have been in the school for a long time, but he knew enough to know that the Baron never speaks. The Baron is scary, not the scary he's used to, but unsettling, like Snape is. Strong stern featured and dark eyes. His face is blank but his next words show empathy, and perhaps... slight respect? "Welcome, child. We know how it must feel, to have one's life short, though perhaps not as short as yours. We will accompany you when you need it, anywhere but off the school grounds. We are tied to the grounds. And maybe you could show us the chamber in which you slayed the Basilisk. And us in turn tell you our stories."

He pauses, and if he were alive, would've taken a breath, instead he just stops, and turns away to stand next to a pretty ghost, murmuring to her.

Fat Friar takes his place. "Hello Harry, I must say, you would have made a wonderful Hufflepuff, but you are a wonderful Gryffindor."

"Don't you mean, was?" Harry asks. He wants to ask a lot of questions to the ghosts. (You know how you breath on impulse, but when you focus you suddenly can't? Why is it like that with talking as a ghost. Naturally not taking a breathe to speak but when you focus find yourself stuttering, trying to pull in air but can't. Am I bound to Hogwarts as you are? When will the numbness fade?). But satisfies himself with just that one.

"Oh, my boy. You never stop being a Gryffindor, your House would have stayed with you when you graduated Hogwarts too. Death is not that different," the Friar speaks with a small understanding smile. "Now! For introductions! I'm the Fat Friar, as you know, that is the Bloody Baron, and next to him is Lady Grey, Ravenclaws ghost, students don't see her often. Nicholas could not join us today, as he is still," he falls silent, as if in mourning, "petrified, as you know. And that," he goes on, naming more of the Hogwarts Ghosts. Harry recognises a few from Nearly Headless Nicks Death-Day Party.

After introductions, Harry asks the question he wanted to know most. "So where do you go, at night?" For the past couple days he's just been in the med-bay, in a sort of medicine state.

"Anywhere you like," this time it's the Grey Lady that speaks, her voice is soft and barely audible, but draws attention the moment a syllable is uttered. "I often stay in the Room of Requirement, you are welcomed to stay their if you like. Most of us just wander around the lower area of the school, the Dungeons, where students don't often wander."

"Of course it's summer now," the Friar interrupts, "so there are no students about, and we go wherever we wish."

"Thank you," he directs his thanks to the both of them, and wished he could listen to the Grey Lady's voice more. It's soothing, like a lullaby.

"May you show me the Room of Requirement?" He asks politely as possible.

She nods her head, and whispers something to the Baron, before gesturing for Harry to follow. "We will be excused now." She addresses the party as a whole and moved off as fluidly as the wind. Harry dips his head and shoots after her as to not be left behind, hoping his sudden leaving won't offend any of the ghosts.

He slams to a slow once he realises he actually ended up further forward than her, and waits for her to catch up, "Sorry," he apologises quietly, it seems like she wouldn't appreciate any loud noises, her aura radiating peace and quiet and he didn't want to break it, "I haven't got ahold of moving like this yet".

"It is expected," she replies, her voice loud in the silence of the castle, "you are but young in age and as ghost. It would not do to dwell on mistakes."

"Oh, uh, thank you." His stumbling ways are out of place next to her, "What exactly is the Room of Requirement?"

"It's a room that adapts to your needs, just stand in front of the door and wish, and it will become whatever you want."

They stop in front of a blank wall, and Harry realises he has no idea where they are. The Lady answers his unspoken question.

"We are on the seventh floor. The door will appear when you wish. This is the room I often frequent." The ghost gestures with an arm and a door appears, it opens automatically and she glides through, "come."

He does so and gasps. The room is huge, towering stacks of everything, placed anywhere and everywhere. Harry glides forward more, inspecting the pile closest to him, it almost reaches the ceiling. Diaries and boxes, a broken quill and a forgotten trunk. Treasures and troves for no one but the lost.

"Students find this room, they always do, at some point, not all of them, never no one. They leave a token, something they want to be rid of, something to be forgotten. Sometimes as a momentum of themselves." She gazes up, and caresses a ball gown thrown over a couch, "generations after generation. Starting from the beginning of Hogwarts. Each finding an undiscovered place, usually none talk of it. They are wrong. I remember. We all do. I find that we," she motions between them, and it's obvious she means ghosts, "are just that, a token of ourselves to be forgotten when our generation is gone."

She wanders further in, to a place only she knows of, leaving Harry to at the Room of Lost things, feeling more at home than he had since the start of the year.

EDIT: Ive changed the name of the series to match with AO3, sorry for any confusion!
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