Ghostwalker

"Me?" Mel choked, her blue eyes wide in utter disbelief. "Oh no. That can't be right.
I'm just Melinda Sandra Seton, not this bloody commander of spirits or whatever."

"Your ancestor was the last ghostwalker in Britain, child." Anne Boleyn told them
calmly, with the patience of one who has done nothing but wait for centuries. "The gift is very rare, and often skips generations. Often it sleeps until you are around sixteen or thereabouts, even after your other magical abilities have awakened. I can feel the power stirring in you, Mistress Seton, it is like a breath of fresh air in the darkness surrounding this place."

" I don't believe it!" Mel sputtered, taken aback by the ghost queen's matter-of-fact
statement. "My parents never mentioned anything like this ability in my family, and we can trace our ancestors back at least three hundred years."

Anne spread her hands. "Much can be lost in the years, and perhaps this was one talent that your family deemed better off suppressed, so you did not attract unwanted attention. Witch hunts used to be very popular back in my day."

"But if I'm what you say, then how come the castle ghosts at Hogwarts didn't know of
me?" Mel demanded, hugging herself, for the chill radiated by the spectral queen was
terrible.

"Because your power slept then. Now it has awakened, Mistress Seton, and all the
ghosts in the Tower know it. I do not lie, child. Not about something this important. Were you not the first to sense my presence? It was you that called to me, I don't appear in broad daylight this way to just anyone." Anne declared haughtily.

Mel looked as though she were about to faint, Arista moved over and grabbed her arm, sending her comforting feelings of reassurance. "I don't believe it!" she repeated dazedly.

Anne huffed exasperatedly. "What's not to believe? Very well, if it's proof you seek,
then proof you shall have. Call the names of young Edward and Richard Plantagenet. You know them better as the Princes in the Tower. They inhabit the Bloody Tower, which is next to this one, and normally they never leave it, but they will not be able to resist your call, Ghostwalker Seton. Call them here to me now!"

Such was the aura of command and authority Anne Boleyn radiated, that Mel found
herself obeying the ghost queen's command instantly. "Uh, Edward and Richard, come here!" she called softly.

A few seconds passed. "Uh, I don't think they heard me," Mel began uncertainly.
"Maybe I should've yelled louder."

"No, we heard you just fine," came a child's high-pitched voice from behind them.

Kit whirled around, knocking his elbow against the wall and swearing. "Bloody hell!
Next time warn a body, huh?"

The prince's ghost giggled. "Then it would ruin the surprise," he answered, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. He looked to be about ten, dressed in a long nightshirt, barefoot, with golden hair that curled to his shoulders.

"Richard!" his brother shot him a reproving look. Then he bowed to them, clearly on
his dignity, even though he was dressed identically to his younger brother in a nightshirt as well. "My name is Edward Plantagenet, and this impertinent scamp here is my brother Richard, milady Ghostwalker."

"Uh, you can just call me Mel."

"A nickname? That wouldn't be proper."

"Please, Your Highness. Just Mel is fine. I don't care about proper, honestly."

Edward considered. "'Tis most odd. What name did your parents give you then?"

"Melinda Sandra Seton. But I prefer Mel," Mel insisted stubbornly. "And these are my
friends. Arista Snape, Trish Greenbough, Drake Lockwood, and Kit Ambrosius."

Edward and Richard bowed to each of them in turn and said it was an honor to make
their acquaintance. "Much better to meet you than that dried up old stick Wrackspur,"
Richard added, scowling. "All he ever wants is to borrow some of our energy and he doesn't even ask first!"

"He's an ill-mannered churl, Dickon," Edward said, his eyes flashing angrily. "One who could use a good flogging, in my opinion."

"Aye, Ned, you're right about that," agreed Richard.

"Uh, you really had to come when I called you?" Mel asked, staring down at herself as
if she'd never seen her own body before.

"We did, milady," Edward answered. "I mean, Mel. When a ghostwalker calls, the
spirit she summons must answer."

"The compulsion is very strong," Anne explained. "It can be fought, but not for very
long, and doing so hurts and is quite exhausting. 'Tis better to just give in and obey."

"Wow! It's like you're using an Imperius Curse on them," Kit murmured and winced
when Trish elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow! What was that for?" Then he caught sight of
Mel's face, which looked stricken. "Oh. I didn't mean that, not really."

"Then you have to do what I say, even if you don't want to?"

Anne and the two princes nodded solemnly. "Such is the power of a ghostwalker,
Mistress Seton," Anne answered. "The grave is no bar to your call, and your will supercedes our own for a time. You are both mistress and equal, flesh and spirit, walker of two realms."

"Then if I told you to stand on your head, you'd do it?" queried Mel.

"Even so." Anne answered, then grimaced. "Though I would hope you'd have more
respect for a former monarch than that, child."

Mel nodded quickly, blushing. "I'd never do that, Your Grace, that'd be stupid." She
turned to the two princes who were standing quietly next to Drake. "May I ask you
something? Did your uncle, King Richard III, really have you murdered?"

"No! 'Tis a foul lie!" the younger prince shouted, shaking his head violently. "Uncle
Richard did nothing of the kind, we were killed by Buckingham!"

"Aye, 'tis the truth. Buckingham himself smothered us in our beds and then buried our bodies in the woods outside the Tower grounds," Edward said softly. "Uncle Richard never knew, he was away in York when it happened. He was a good man, not a monster, he would never stoop to such doings. We were his family, he loved us like his own sons, especially since our cousin died, his son Neddy."

"Then why did he put you in here?" Drake asked curiously.

"To protect us from those lords who would have kidnapped us and used us to start a
revolt against him," Edward answered promptly. "Or those like Buckingham, who wanted us dead so they could put forth their own claim to the throne."

"Didn't work too well, now did it?" Arista said quietly.

"That wasn't Uncle Richard's fault!" Richard stated hotly. "He trusted Buckingham, and Buckingham betrayed him, the rotten traitor! He was working with Henry Tudor, plotting my uncle's death, and it is their lies that have been told over and over again. But we know the truth, Lady Snape, for we looked into the eyes of our murderer before we died, and it was not our uncle! He was innocent!"

"Some historians now believe that as well, but it's not widely accepted," Mel said
sadly. "Too bad we could never tell people that it's the truth, they'd never believe us."

"People believe what is easiest," Anne said with a bitter laugh. "As they did when Henry accused me of adultery. Or rather, Thomas Cromwell did, and Henry went along with it. They wanted me out of the way, so he could play with his new mistress, the whey faced Lady Jane Seymour! She was never a fit queen for him, with all of her meek airs and holier-than- thou sermons about Reform! And in the end it was my Elizabeth who became the better ruler, not her puling son Edward!" Then she shook her head abruptly. "Forgive me, I did not mean to go on so, the past is centuries dead, though I swear, sometimes it pricks me sharply like it was yesterday. Damn you, Henry!" She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "He betrayed me in the worst way a man can betray a woman. I pray you never know such, children. Be that as it may, I would ask a boon of you, if I may, Mistress Seton?"

"Of course, Your Majesty." Mel said respectfully.

"I ask that you drive the necromancer Wrackspur from the Tower, for he takes what he
has no right to, and break the curse we have endured for centuries, allowing us to go on to our reward—the eternal peace of heaven."

"Aye, milady—I mean Mel," Edward pleaded, his face hopeful, as was his brother's.
"We've been waiting ever so long for you to come here, all of us."

"Who's all of us?" Mel frowned.

"All of us Tower ghosts," Anne explained. "Besides myself and the princes there are Cat Howard, my cousin who was also Henry's wife, Sir Walter Raleigh, the Countess of Salisbury, and Thomas a' Becket, to name a few. There are others as well, for many poor souls have died gruesome deaths here and all of us are bound here after death by the curse."

"But how can the curse be broken?" Arista queried.

"The curse, as it stands now, can only be broken by a ghostwalker who has mastered her power and can challenge the bindings set on us by that miserable Dirk Wrackspur!"

Mel gulped loudly. "Bloody hell, you don't ask much, d'you? You want me to fight a
blasted dark wizard, one who's been working for You-Know-Who all this time? You'd do better to recruit an Auror, Your Majesty, by my lights. They're the ones who know how to defeat dark wizards like that one, not me."

"They cannot help us, Mistress Seton. Only you can. Only a ghostwalker can challenge he who calls himself the Ghost Master. Your friends can help you if they choose, but in the end it is your talent that shall prove our salvation."

Mel groaned. "Great! Just great! What I always wanted, to be a blasted hero. This could only happen to me. How am I going to learn to control this bloody talent, Queen Anne?"

"We will teach you. It shouldn't take you long, a ghostwalker's talent works almost
instinctively."

"And a good thing too, for the craven Ghost Master said he'll return in three nights time for more power to feed his master," Edward put in.

"He's what?" Mel shrieked. "You expect me to master this ghostwalker thing in three
bloody days? All of you are bleeding cracked! It's impossible." She looked at her friends. "I can't do this, it's worse than trying to cram for one of Snape's Potions finals. We've never gone up against a dark wizard before, and you think we can take one on in three days? That'd take a bloody miracle!"

"I have seen the strength in you, Mistress Seton." Anne said serenely. "It is more than
a match for Wrackspur."

Arista patted her shoulder comfortingly. "We'll all help you, Mel. You don't have to
do this alone. I've fought necromancers before, last summer in Washington State. I know a few tricks."

"So do I," Drake added quietly. "And this is only one necromancer, last time there were seven. And with our combination magic, I think we have a good shot."

Mel was shaking her head in dismay. "Crazy . . .all of you . . .the two of you should have been in Gryffindor, the way you go off rescuing people."

Drake stiffened. "Gryffindor doesn't hold the monopoly on courage or sacrifice, Mel.
There are just as many cowards and bullies there as in Slytherin. Just because we're Sorted into one House doesn't mean we're embodiments of everything it stands for. We're people, not cardboard cutouts. I'm in Slytherin because I have more ambition than my father, and I want to be something other than a country vet, but that doesn't mean I hate Muggles or Muggleborns, or that I'm going to turn traitor and become a dark wizard."

"Drake's right." Arista said. "There're no absolutes when it comes to people.
Slytherin's got king snakes as well as cobras, and I think the whole system of Houses is archaic and ought to be done away with. It prejudges people and that's not right. In
America, we say it matters more what you do with your talent than what kind of family you were born into. It's how you live that defines you, not what you were born into. Or Sorted into. Just because I'm in Ravenclaw doesn't make me all-knowing, only that I tend to be smarter than your average wizard. But I could have easily been placed in Hufflepuff, 'cause of my empathy, or Slytherin, because you all know my great ambition is to be the best Healer I can. See, you can't put a person neatly into a category, like a potion. People aren't black or white, but gray, and we're always changing. I believe that we all have the potential to be heroes and cowards, depending on the situation."

"Thanks, Professor, for the lecture," Mel snapped, rolling her eyes. "You also believe
nothing's impossible with magic, Snape."

"And I was right," Arista challenged. "You can do anything you set your mind to, Seton.
Believe it."

"Maybe you can, Girl Who Healed. But I ain't you, Arista."

"True. You're the ghostwalker, born to be a link between the living and the dead," Anne interjected. "Mistress Snape is correct, Melinda Seton. If you believe, truly believe in
yourself, you can accomplish anything. Look at what I became. I was nothing more than a minor baron's daughter, my family had great ambition, but nothing more. We were not a great noble family, like the Howards, my father was regarded as an upstart, but he didn't let that stop him. Nor did I. I believed myself as good as royalty, a fit match for King Henry, and with a great deal of hard work, I made him see this also, and lo and behold, I became queen. I, little more than a commoner, rose to the highest position in the land. Now, if I could do that, a mere woman without magic, what can you do, young magician?"

Mel scowled. "That's all fine and dandy, Your Majesty, but look where being queen got
you in the end. Wrongfully accused and your head cut off. Who's to say I'll not end up the same way?"

"We do," Trish put in firmly. "Like Arista said, you don't have to do this alone. We
work best as a team, remember?"

Kit and Drake nodded vigorously. "We won't let the necromancer hurt you, Mel," Kit
stated chivalrously.

"Not while there's magic in our wands and breath in our bodies," Arista said
determinedly. "Two together are stronger than one alone," she quoted a Dark Hunter
maxim.

"And five together is better than anything," Drake added. "If you go into this fight,
Seton, you won't go alone, that much I can promise you."

Mel blushed and looked at the ground, too overcome to say anything. Then she lifted
her head and smiled. "All for one, huh? Thanks, guys." She eyed Anne nervously. "You sure you can teach me what I need to know before this Ghost Master guy comes around here again?"

The ghost queen nodded. "I must. To fail would be intolerable. Therefore, I must not
fail." There was an angry glint in her eye. "Four hundred and sixty-odd years I have haunted this Tower, and I am tired of it. I want to rest, as do all my other spectral companions. I am sick and tired of being used as a-a-what is the word you people use nowadays? A tourist attraction? Yes, not to mention a tool for a necromancer like Wrackspur! I am no man's plaything, I never was while I was alive, and I'll be damned if I'll be one in death! Will you not help us, Mistress Seton? I ask now as one woman to another, not as queen."

It was her humility that finally persuaded Mel that she must help them, even though she was scared to death. "Okay. I'll do it."

Anne and the princes heaved a vast sigh of relief. "You have our eternal gratitude,
Mistress. Return tomorrow night at eight o'clock and we shall begin your tutelage."

"Eight o'clock?" Kit repeated. "But the Tower's closed to visitors then."

Anne shrugged. "For you, the Tower is always open. Do not worry, Master Kit, we shall
ensure that you can get into the Tower without a problem."

The princes grinned at each other upon hearing that statement. "Time to give the
Yeoman another good scare!" Richard said with a wicked smirk.

"This'll be fun!" agreed Edward.

Anne smiled at them tolerantly. "Little wretches! One day you might go too far and
scare someone to death."

"Nay, Your Grace!" laughed Edward. "That we leave to the Countess of Salisbury!"

"Go to, you imps of Satan!" Anne chuckled. "Go back to your Tower and plan out your
mischief. I will tell Sir Walter and Cat and Margaret meantime. Until tomorrow night then. Fare you well!"

Then she was gone, vanishing as swiftly as she had come.

The princes bid the SR's goodbye as well and departed, leaving the five friends to stare at each other, wondering what on earth they had gotten themselves into now.

**Please check out my other two short fics while you're waiting for me to update this one--POTIONS PRODIGY is my version of a de-aged Severus fic, i think it's funny and then there's MARIETTA"S CHRISTMAS CAROL, which answers Arista's question at the end of Bronze Dragons--what would happen if Marietta really DID come to Hogwarts? A whole lot of trouble? Read it and find out! thanks! :)