The Fat Friar, as he would come to be called in time, floated right through the walls of his brother's house. It wasn't lost on him that his brother lived alone in a house that was larger than the seminary in which the Friar had lived with fifty other priests while he was living. Excess had always been his brother's way, and he knew that magic had been used to unfairly gain much of it. The thought left a bitter taste in the Friar's mouth despite his lack of a physical body.
His brother was sat at a desk, scribbling on parchment with a ferocity that hinted at impending doom. That was something else to be expected of his brother. Everything was against him, or so he claimed.
The man sensed the Friar's presence and froze, his eyes wide as he looked up from the parchment.
"No," he breathed quietly. "I'd heard rumours that you'd returned, but I hoped they weren't true."
"Because you hoped for a better afterlife for me?" Friar asked. "Or, perhaps, you didn't wish to face me again."
His brother didn't answer him, so the Friar continued.
"I thought I was satisfied with the life I'd lived and that I would enter into the afterlife with a sense of peace. It was only after I was in this form that I finally realized what my unfinished business was: you. I have helped many people in my life, brother, but I'm afraid that I failed you."
His brother snarled at him, face twisting into an ugly look.
"Failed me?" he mocked. "Look around you, brother. You lived a poor life as a beggar as you wished, but I have done well for myself. You've failed no one. Staying here was a mistake. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that someone like you would reject the heavenly reward as much as you did the earthly one. I have no such weaknesses."
Friar floated closer, trying to ignore the way his brother shrank away from him.
"That isn't what I meant," he said. "I'm concerned with everything but your accumulation of wealth. Look around you, dear brother. Your wife is gone, and you married your daughters off to the wealthiest men who would take them inconsequential of their happiness. When was the last time they visited? Have you spoken to another living soul in years without a business transaction involved?"
His brother's jaw was tight as he stood from his desk, squaring his shoulders.
"There was a time when I was jealous of you," he said slowly. "You were content with your begging. Each time I bought something new, I wanted to tell you about it, and each time you were unimpressed. I wished I could feel that way. I wanted to find alternate sources of joy in the world, but I never did.
"You think I mourn my wife? She married me for my money and nothing more. I knew that before the ceremony, but what was I to do? I had little choice in the matter. Just as I could never make my daughters like me unless they wanted something from me. That has always been the way my world worked. Eventually, I had to stop envying you. I had to stop living out a rivalry that, it seemed, was merely in my own head."
"You're wrong," Friar said with a sad shake of his head. "There was a time I envied you, a time where I wished that I, too, had acquired money. It would have been far more useful for helping people. Perhaps, then, we could have helped each other after all. But there's still hope. There are still ways you can make your money worth something, brother. Perhaps that is my purpose here. I am meant to guide you towards a renewal of your soul. There are so many who could benefit from a small percentage of the money you've earned."
His brother looked back at him with an uncertainty that broke the Friar's transparent heart. He frowned down at the human who still had so much potential to turn his life around. He knew his brother well enough to suspect that potential would be wasted, though part of him still hoped for more.
"I will be at Hogwarts," Friar said, beginning to rise towards the ceiling. "If you wish to speak to you, I can guide you down a different path. All you need to do is ask."
His brother averted his eyes to the floor, and Friar took the opportunity to disappear through the roof. The journey back to Hogwarts was long, even for a ghost.
Prompts:
Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments
Seasonal - Hufflepuff Challenge: Fat Friar
Word count: 774