Harry, Hermione and Ron took their seats at the Gryffindor table and watched the sorting. It seemed just yesterday that Harry had been where they were, in front of all those people getting Sorted.

He had been terrified and now he was a sixth year, nearly graduating.

'Almeida, Jennifer,' called McGonagall.

Dumbledore, with his hand still bruised, smiled at Harry, who nodded his head in return.

'Nasty thing he has on his hand,' said a sweet voice behind Harry.

'Yeah, I- You!'

Hermione turned to Harry and said:

'Shhh!'

'I told you never to reply to me,' said Samantha 'at least, not in front of people.'

'You're white,' he whispered.

'I know,' she admitted sadly. 'I think I'm some kind of a ghost or something. I'm only in a coma so I suppose I'm kind of half-dead, if that's even possible.'

Harry looked at the girl that he had seen earlier. Now she was as white as Nick. Her brown locks were now white as where her clothes and her skin.

'But you weren't… back in the train,' he whispered as McGonagall kept calling the first years.

'I- I wasn't,' she asked. 'That's weird… Look, if you keep talking to me someone's bond to notice. Meet me in the common room at midnight.'

Harry nodded and continued to observe the Sorting.

At Midnight

Harry sat up slowly. He could hear Neville and Ron's snores, and Dean and Seamus were long asleep he was sure.

He got up slowly and dressed his robes over his pyjamas.

Slowly he walked down the stairs and looked around.

'Samantha,' he called. 'Samantha.'

'Here, Harry,' said Samantha from the best couch.

She got to her feet.

'You're not white anymore,' he said.

'Yes, I a-' but looking down Samantha realized she wasn't white but as she had been once.

Her hair was brown again and her dress was blue.

'But- I don't know how-'

'Maybe it was something you thought or did,' he said.

'All I was doing was sitting down,' she said. 'And all I was thinking of was-' she stopped middle sentence and blushed. 'Er, never mind. What we need to figure out is why only you can see me.'

'Yeah,' Harry sat down on the couch next to her.

For moments there was nothing but silence. His emerald eyes met her brown ones. They were familiar. He had seen them somewhere. They were big and round and there was a certain joyful touch in them. But the more Harry looked, the more he could find traces of sadness in them.

She cleared her throat.

'Well, er, why can only you see me? Do you have any clue?'

'No,' said Harry honestly. 'I'm the only one who doesn't remember you at all. Are you sure you're a sixth year?'



She smiled.

'I would be if I wasn't in a coma,' she said.

'I'm-'

'Don't be,' she interrupted. 'It's not your fault.'

'Yeah, but-'

'Just- It doesn't matter,' she said with a sad smile.

'Dumbledore,' said Harry. 'He should know what to do!'

'Dumbledore,' repeated Samantha. 'Er, give it a bit more time. We can try to figure this out and if- if we can't then we go to Dumbledore.'

'But-'

She knelt in front of him and rested her hand on his. Harry had seen her white, seen her in colours but if he really looked at her he could see through her. Only now, as she touched his hand, he could feel her coldness, as if her hand were solid.

'Please, Harry,' she pleaded. 'We'll try for a while and- and if we don't figure it out we- we'll go to Dumbledore.'

Harry was about to protest. Dumbledore was the greatest wizard ever. He'd know what to do; he'd know why only he – Harry – could see Samantha. He'd be able to explain.

But looking into those big brown eyes he couldn't argue. It was like looking into a pair of puppy dog eyes.

'Alright,' he said. 'Until Christmas, after that we go to Dumbledore.'

She gave him a huge smile.

'I'd hug you if I could, but I don't think it's very pleasant to hug an ice cube,' she said. 'Believe me, personal experience.'

'You've been hugged by a ghost?'

'Nick,' said Samantha. 'He had an awful liking for me. Even the Double B asked if I wanted him to give old Nicky a lesson.'

'Double B,' repeated Harry.

'Yeah, you know, Bloody Baron,' she said.

'He lets you call him that?'

She shrugged.

'He likes me,' she said. 'Minnie was shocked when she found out.'

'Minnie,'

Samantha rolled her eyes.

'McGonagall,' she explained.

'Do you have nicknames for everyone?'

'Pretty much,' she admitted.

'What do you call Peeves?'

'Oh, he's my husband-to-be,' she said. 'We're engaged.'

'What?!'

'Well, not really,' she explained 'just something between me, him, Fred and George.'

'You know Fred and George?'

'Know them,' she laughed. 'We were once the amazing four, me, Fred, George and Lee. But, after last year, I haven't seen them. They went to go see me at St. Mungus.'

Harry saw her eyes fill up with pain.

'I'm sorry they can't hear or see you,' he said.

'No, it's alright,' she said. 'At least, you can.'

'Yeah, but-'

Truth was Harry felt guilty. If she were to be seen or heard by anyone certainly she would like it to be a friend of hers. Not some school colleague who doesn't even remember her.



'Harry, it's not your fault,' she said. 'And better you then – I don't know – Colin.'

Harry laughed.

Colin would probably take a thousand pictures before realizing she wasn't showing up in them and then he'd faint.

'Yeah, better me then Colin,' he agreed. 'So, are you going to sleep?'

'Er, well, ever since I'm this I don't sleep.'

'You don't,' asked Harry.

She shook her head allowing her locks to fly around her face.

'But I'll be fine,' she said. 'I'll have a night tour around and see if anyone else can see me.'

Harry nodded and stood up. His wrist watch told him it was nearly two a.m.

'Er, Harry,' called Sam as he began climbing the stairs.

'Yeah,'

'Do you think you'd mind if I went to classes with you tomorrow,' she asked. 'Just so that when I wake up I'm not too far behind.'

Harry nodded quickly.

'Sure,' he said. 'Er, yeah, why should I mind?'

'Thanks,' she replied.

He nodded again and went up the stairs to bed.

As he got back into the warm four poster bed he could only imagine what Samantha felt like, being invisible to all but him. It must be horrible not to be heard or seen. And having to see those who you care for move on without you and you not being able to do anything about it... It was all horrible.

And all the same, it was mysterious. Why could only Harry see her? Why could, from everyone, only he see and hear her? And why didn't he remember her?

He found her brown eyes familiar that night… Perhaps they had glanced at each other before.

Harry would have time to think of that tomorrow. Right now he was exhausted and needed some sleep.