Chapter Four

You know how when you're little and don't want to do something, you hide under the covers and pretend that if you can't see anyone, then no one can see you, too?

I felt so very tempted to run back into my room and hide my face under the covers. I was worn out from my conversation with James (not to mention the very tense dinner) and I knew that there was something being hidden from me. I got the feeling that I was in way over my head. Unfortunately, being an (almost) adult and all, I couldn't hide. Too many responsibilities and all.

I gave a big sigh and entered the room.


It seems to me that no matter how much I learn about magic, there is always something else to learn that makes me feel like I know nothing. I'm sure it feels like this for everyone, but at least people with magic in their families have been surrounded by it their whole lives.

Amy's nursery gave me that feeling. It was obvious that it was very temporary and hastily put together, but even then it was one of the best ones I'd ever seen. Filled with moving trains, beautiful mobiles, pictures that told nursery rhymes when you asked them to, and more. The walls were painted black with shining stars all over them, but, knowing the wizarding world, I'm sure that changed during the day to a bright blue sky, big puffy clouds, and a shining sun. I have to admit, I was jealous. Where was this nursery when I was a kid?

But what stood out the most was Amy. Or rather, what was next to Amy: a ghost of a little boy. I could tell because of how white he seemed, and also how Amy seemed to ignore him as she continued playing with her doll. Poor thing, he looked like he couldn't have been older than three.

I chose to ignore him and focus on my task at hand.

"What are you doing?" I asked Amy.

"Getting Charlotte ready for a ball. There's a prince there, so she has to look her best," she informed me, not looking up from brushing the doll's hair. It seemed to me that five was much too young to be impressing a prince at a ball, but hey, her imagination.

"Who else is going to be there? Will you be there? Will I?" I asked, wondering if I'd have to dress up too. Fortunately Amy shook her head. "No! You're going to be the prince," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, how about for now I'll help Charlotte get ready? I can be the prince later," I offered. She nodded her approval, and that was how I found myself looking through Charlotte's wardrobe for the perfect dress.

For a while, things stayed that way. I had just started telling myself that everything was going to be okay (a mistake, because everyone knows that once you start telling yourself that, nothing goes right) when it happened. The little ghost boy started crying. Annoying, yes, but manageable. Or, at least, it was until Amy started crying too. I'd heard that little children are near each other, if one starts crying, sometimes it leads to the other ones crying as well. However, I'd never seen or heard of the same thing being true when one child was dead and the other was alive. I'm sure I would have found that fascinating if it weren't for the fact that I was the one who had to deal with it.

What to do, deal with the living, or deal with the dead? I chose the living, scooping Amy (and Charlotte in her pretty pink ball gown) into my arms and stroked her hair, murmuring comforting words. Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed to be working, and another idea came to me. "Tell me a story," I begged one of the paintings, and tucked Amy into bed while we both listened intently. The story distracted her to where she forgot about her tears.

Not bad for a beginner, eh?

I waited until she fell asleep, then crept outside while I thought about what I needed to do. First thing's first, I decided, I needed to know who that boy was and the story behind him. I could try talking to him, but it's doubtful that, at that young, he could tell me.

What I needed to do was talk to James. I sighed as I thought about how the safety of my bed would have to wait a little bit longer.

A/N- I got a review asking if I got the idea for this story from The Ghost Whisperer. Actually, no! I'd never even heard of the show when I started writing this. I got the idea from Meg Cabot's "The Mediator" series. This ended up being a much shorter update than I was expecting, but I've got some ideas. Seeing as how it's October, seems like the right time to be really focusing on this story ;)