Minerva rolled her eyes when a loud bang sounded behind her. "That stopped being startling a long time ago, Mr Weasley," she said in a bored voice.

Fred was grinning as he glided out through the ancient tapestry. "Sorry, Professor," he said. "I was just testing some things. For when Filch returns."

"He'll be delighted," Minerva said.

"I sure hope so," Fred said. "It'll be his Christmas present. So you better bring him back in time to get it."

"I'll do my best. But the way things are looking now, he'd better bring a warm coat."

"Aw, come on, Professor," Fred said, pouting. "You know we're not doing that on purpose. I mean, it's a great trick and all, but we don't want to close down the school or anything like that."

"I know," Minerva sighed. "But for now, it is the result. And I must admit that I'm surprised that some of you have not yet moved on." She gave Fred a questioning look.

"Oh, I could if I would," Fred said, leaning back in the air, looking almost smug. "I mean… I've got no urge to hang around here. It's just… Some of the others. They're just kids. Sweet children who could not stand by and let evil trample over everything they cared about. And then… poof… it was just over. Some of them still haven't accepted it. That's why they show up for class. I've heard that Murphy still spends hours each night doing homework that will never be graded. I can't just leave them like that, can I, Professor? I gotta look after them. At least until they've learned to cope. Or better yet, accept what happened and let go."

For a while Minerva just sat looking at him, lost for words and with a lump in her throat. "I see," she said eventually.

Fred glanced at her and his smiled faltered. "Oh, it's fine, Professor," he said. "I mean… They'll be fine in the end. All of them. It's just that for some of us the war is not quite over. But it will be. You shouldn't let it concern you. We're not your responsibility anymore. You just worry about the living students, okay?"

"I would," Minerva said. "But that means I have to consider you too. Professor Trelawney thinks it would be best if I sent you all off, but… I won't. I can't. Certainly not after what you just told me."

Fred seemed to tense. "No," he said. "Whatever happens, please don't do that. I mean… it would be fine for me. And some of the others. But most of the kids… If they can't stay here at the castle where they still feel some connection to what they fought and died for, they would just be… lost…"

Minerva nodded. "I won't."

"Glad to hear that, Professor," Fred said with a crooked grin. "Now if there is anything we can do… you know, like clear out certain parts of the castle while you work or something like that, please let me know."

"Well… It would be helpful if you could keep the castle quiet for today," Minerva said. "I'll be going through every book there is to find an alternative."

Fred nodded, saluted and then melted into the wall.

…

A few hours later, Minerva pushed her books aside and leaned back in her chair, tapping her quill to the desk. Satisfying the ghosts' need for energy hadn't worked and even if she'd known a way to make them stop absorbing heat, she was sure the consequences would be unpleasant. So the solution would be to find them a new source of energy.

Unfortunately, no one in all of those books seemed to have studied ghosts and the forces that kept them going properly. And none of the options Minerva had come up with herself were feasible.

She would have to ask for advice after all. Not from reflections from the past, like Albus and the other Heads of the school, but from living people. Colleagues, workers at the Spirit Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures; anyone who could know the answer.

While she was writing to them, she was reminded of the official letters she used to write for Elphinstone. Even though he was retired by the time of their marriage, he had always kept his connections at the Ministry, and Minerva was only too happy to help him with his correspondence. At least the recipients might be able to decipher any of the contents if they weren't written in his frankly horrible handwriting. The thought made her smile a little.

One time when she had been writing in their Hogsmeade cottage, Sybill had suddenly stormed in. Minerva had been very surprised, as she hadn't seen much of her friend for a while. In fact, it seemed like she was a little intimidated by Elphinstone, who could indeed come off rather formal and impressive when you didn't know him. Besides, Sybill was almost young enough to be his granddaughter, which made the gap between them even wider.

"You have to help me," Sybill had cried, sounding rather desperate. "I don't know what to do…"

Frowning, Minerva had jumped up to lead her to a chair, trying to calm her down. "What's going on?"

"Higglebottom. He's here. He… He came to visit me." Sybill had whimpered and seemed to blush.

Minerva's eyebrows had knotted further in confusion. "Higgle… Howard Higglebottom? The Hufflepuff Prefect from your year?"

Sybill had nodded. "Yes… He… We went to Hogsmeade together once. In our last year. It was really awkward. He kept wanting to buy me things that I didn't need. Because he thought he'd seen me looking at them or something. We met up with his horrible friends at the Three Broomsticks and I managed to sneak out while he was getting us butterbeers. Never spoke to him after that. But then today, he shows up out of the blue. Brought me flowers. Said he had just heard about my being appointed teacher here and wanted to congratulate me. And then he…" She couldn't go on, clearly too shocked by what had happened.

"Did he really only hear about that now?" Minerva had asked, wondering about the news spreading so slowly for once. "You've been working here almost three years…"

"That's not the point!" Sybill had almost screamed, then taken a deep breath. "He's muggleborn. No children. And he works for a witch who breeds Hippogriffs. In America. So he's not really up to date on what happens at Hogwarts. Or in England in general. Anyway… He… He says he's moving back and he thought it was time… to confess…"

"And what he confessed was clearly very upsetting," Minerva had nodded.

"He said he loved me!" Sybill was trembling now. "Claimed he always had. He wants me to marry him. Live with him on some silly little farm outside of Hogsmeade where he wants to raise Nifflers and things like that."

Minerva had blinked. "Ah."

"What should I do? I… I can't just tell him to go away. He says he's not angry about me running out on him back then. That I should just have told him I wasn't comfortable with his friends. He says he's so happy I've waited for him. Because I haven't had a proper boyfriend since… since then."

"I don't see why you couldn't tell him to leave you alone," Minerva had said, even more confused. "You've just told me that you don't like him at all and you haven't spoken to him in years."

"But it's not like I have anybody else…" Sybill had said, not meeting her eyes.

"Sybill," Minerva had said sternly. "I hope you don't seriously consider that a valid reason to marry someone. You don't need him. Clearly, he is the one who needs you, but however harsh it may sound, that is not your problem."

"You're right," Sybill had said with a sigh. "I'll tell him. Just… tell him I'm not interested and that he shouldn't waste his time on me."

Minerva had nodded. "I think that would be best. Do you want some tea to calm your nerves?"

"Yes. Thank you. And maybe… Do you have something a bit stronger?"

Smiling a little, Minerva had shaken her head. "You'd better keep your mind clear for this."

Later, when she had found the card in the mail announcing the wedding, she couldn't stop wondering if Sybill had been drinking after all.