Nobody moves me

I've been through this life with no place that I can call my own.

I'm thinking above me

I never seem to find anybody that can feel like home--

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From one perspective, Giles Barkwater had the appearance of being short. From another, he appeared somewhat stocky. He was in truth, neither. He was of average height, and an average build and due to his lifestyle, tended to be solid and somewhat broad shouldered. In his youth, middle age, and up to the point where he had sustained his nearly fatal wound, he had been athletic, and master equestrian. In fact, he quite preferred the sport of riding horses to that of riding brooms, and that was part of the allure for leaving the Wizarding world, and joining the Muggle cavalry.

He had not, as he teased Amanda, really blasted off his own leg in order to retire, though he had realized that the time for retiring was fast approaching. There was only so long that his Muggle comrades would believe that Giles' youthful good looks and healthful vigor were due solely to good genes. They would eventually become suspicious, or worse--superstitious.

He had been contemplating the most dignified way of gaining his freedom, when much to his chagrin, he was struck in the abdomen by a musket ball during a small, but rather fierce battle under the Indian sun. The skirmish continued without him, and he had lain in his own blood, and that of his fallen companions and enemies, awaiting death and regretting the bad decisions he had made throughout his life.

He was gut shot, and when the heat of retreat was upon the others, they spared him not a second look, so that before midday he had been left alone, and counted among the dead. For once in his life, Giles had to depend on Giles for survival, and he found within himself that day a previously untapped source of bravery and courage.

Shakily, he had half risen, propping his head on the half dismembered leg of a fallen Lt., and began picking the newly hatched maggots from his own wound. The hot sun had beaten harshly against his uncovered head, and parching his lips. The maggots were covered in blood, wriggling-- and he had a difficult time gripping them with his numb fingers; some of them were mashed unintentionally and their yellowish liquid innards dripped into the gaping hole in his stomach.

He gagged involuntarily, and threw the dessicated bodies away. By all rights, he should have died, but through sheer determination, and the greatest agony of his life, he managed to reach his left boot, and draw out his wand. First he summoned a drink of water. Then he cleaned the wound as best he could. Being no medic, he was certain he was doing more harm than good, and hurt like hell. Once clean, he placed his own finger in his mouth to bite down on, and, figuring he had nothing to lose, Accioed the bullet out. The pain in his finger, unfortunately was not enough to take his mind away from the pain in his gullet.

For a time he swooned. When he came back to his senses, the ball lay beside his hand, and a fresh outpouring of blood was soaking his scarlet coat. With the last shred of self-discipline he could muster, he muttered a Reparo over the hole, and shrieked; it felt as though his skin had been nailed together with glowing brands.

He summoned some bandaging, and did the best he could towards covering it. Just enough to hold keep him alive until he could find his way back to the Wizarding world, and trained healers.

They told him it was a miracle of both worlds that he had survived at all, and after that he had no use for the army--so one of his plans, that of altering his appearance and re-enlisting, was tossed away as a foolish idea. He instead began retraining to join the Aurors, and soon had blended his Muggle and Wizarding skills into a complex yet effective form of operation. Soon, his colleagues began to avoid him, as being too unpredictable, and in their opinion, not serious enough about the job.

Giles was not serious enough. He did not even pretend to have the single minded devotion or arrogance attributed to the Aurors. His dark blue eyes crinkled often with laughter, and his elegant mouth was permanently curved into a smile behind his neatly trimmed beard. This usually meant, that whenever he had to confront a suspected smuggler or villain of some sort, he was targeted as the good-fellow, and the offender would then attempt to elicit sympathy form him. They also assumed, due to his fidgeting nature, animated conversation, and humble manner that he was slow, and hopefully not paying attention.

This mistake led to a many a person being unnecessarily wounded while trying to escape.

He tried to become, when not actual being an Auror, the reserved sort of gentleman that a retired colonel should be. He even took to wearing a green satin vest, which in his mind was the most elegant and reserved garment a gentleman could possess.

At other times he could be brash and flirtatious or broody and temperamental.One day he could carry-on and joke, examining black-market potion ingredients while regaling people with tall tales about his life. The next day would find him seated between the wall and his bed, drinking scotch and staring at his service revolver with a degree of loathing.

There had been a time or two when he had considered using that pistol to obliterate the nightmares about the days of war. Strange that events of which he took little notice at the time of their occurrence should return to haunt him afterwards. And so vividly.

Night after night, piecemeal images would flood his mind. Dead friends, slashed throats, half eaten corpses. Ropes of intestines pulled across the road by scavengers, intestines that squelched when the wheels of the cannon rolled unceremoniously over their gnawed remains. The sobs of raped women, the wails of starving babies, the bodies of mangled children wrenched him from his tortured dreams. The smells of blood, vomit, and human feces that the rains washed into the camps and tents, swarming with flies would wake him sometimes and linger about until he was certain that at any moment a colleague was going to turn to him and comment on the unpleasant odor of death. Deep into his eyes there lurked the imprint of torture and cruelty, the hopeless color of gangrenous wounds and festering sores, the wailing and moaning of men dying of fevers and dysentery.

He might have regarded the pistol, but he never loaded it. Something kept him from it, a lack of courage perhaps. His own courage had been miserably depleted that day on the battlefield, and as everyone knows, courage isn't simply replenished or regrown, like hair or nails. He was too much of a coward to place the ball into the pistol, and at the same time he was too afraid to shoot himself he was thinking that only a coward would commit suicide and not finish his life as a man. So was Giles brave, or cowardly? He himself was not sure.

Anohter issue haunted Giles as well.

When he had told Amanda that he had never married because he had never found the perfect person, he had not been lying. The full truth was that he was slightly jealous of losing his friend Edward, who had married and might never be the same for it.

At first, he had seen Edward's marriage as a separation of the established friendship between two old men who had never discovered the illusion of marital bliss

He had briefly been pleased and relieved when after the marriage Edward certainly didn't seem blissful; in fact Edward had acquired an impatient terseness, which was to be expected in a man who, after forty years of restored bachelorhood, was suddenly forced into an impromptu, arranged union with young stranger.

Giles had expected her to be quite horrible.

The surprise of his life was to discover that Amanda was pleasant. Not only in personality, but in appearance as well. She was odd,of course...even for a Muggle, and perhaps a little dull. But in his opinion, and he set a fair amount of store in his own opinion, that was a good thing. After Dinah, Edward needed someone who was subdued.

Sometimes Giles tried to imagine what it be like to be Amanda; a normal, magic-less Muggle taken to a foreign country, then to an underground community into in which you did not have the faculties to ever truly fit, and then be required to marry. She was being very gracious about the whole ordeal, in his opinion.

He even took it upon himself to scold Edward about his aloofness one day, but Edward would not be budged from his own suspicions. Then, one miraculous day, Edward had simply turned to Giles and said;

" You should settle down Giles. Find someone to marry. You won't regret it."

Giles had beamed triumphantly.

" Bravo, Amanda.." he thought. But then the truth about himself settled on his shoulders like the weight of the universe. He did not seem himself as someone who could marry or settle down.

Who would wish to be his companion? After all, he wore a green satin vest and played horribly at chess. His beard too, was no longer fashionable, and...and well, he imagined he would not be desirable to the sort of person of whom he might wish to gain companionship. Therefore, as a hobby, he began to take a great interest in Edward's marriage, observing it as he might the nesting habits of sparrows were he an amateur ornithologist. He was all too glad to have Edward and Amanda over for an evening of supernatural conversation. Their happiness for a short time would create a patch for the loneliness of his own life.

Convincing Sir Humphrey Hample, the ghostly Barrister of Hample Place, to agree to a meeting was no easy task. Sir Humphrey's ego had long ago been bruised by the truth of his own unfortunate demise, which had occurred shortly after he had climbed out of his garret window to mend the roof tiles...during a thunder storm. After he had imbibed a half keg of Red Ripple, his own personal vintage.( a vintage with the reputation of being only just easier to swallow than flaming razor-blades.)

Any reminder of his death left Sir Hample in a fit of melancholia. Any reminder that it had been his own fault led to a violent outburst of temper, which resulted in much door slamming and hours of him pacing the attic floor spouting poetry backwards, a talent he learned to keep himself amused in the afterlife.

Caught up in his own troubles, Giles was something less than tactful the first day and it then took four days of cajoling and soothing to Sir Humphrey's pride. That and a promise to supply the ghost with an easel and other accouterments oil painting, a hobby Sir. Humphrey was very intrigued by, and Sir Humphrey agreed to be a congenial and cooperative host.

Giles invited Edward and Amanda to his house for Saturday evening. If Mrs. Ollivander was to believe in a ghost, then the most effective time in which to see the ghost was evening. In the daylight ghosts were so pale and diaphanous, hardly credible.

Giles had only one other creature that shared his roof. A gnarled old housekeeper who called herself Rufus. She was not a Mrs. or a Miss...only Rufus, and he was not sure if it was her given name or her surname. It suited her though, she being short and thin, and heavily browed. Her ruddy face and brown eyes were utterly humorless, and she wore a brown woolen shawl over her stooped shoulders at all times.

Unlike what might be expected of a bachelor who acquired an elderly housekeeper...Giles had no affection for the woman, though she had been in his employ over ten years. She, in return, completely disliked him. They acknowledged their feelings, and dutifully avoided each other except in times of dire emergency.

On Saturday, he asked only that she tidy the house, somewhat, and leave out the decanter. Then he told her she could have the night off to do with as she pleased, to which she bitterly replied that there was nothing in the world that pleased her, and that she had not a penny or a place in the world to go. He gave her ten galleons for he trouble, and told her an abbreviated form of where he wished she would go.

She grumbled and sniffed, but took the money gladly enough and was off to the nearest pub so fast that her bony ankles showed with the flying of her skirt.

Not an hour later, Edward arrived-- precisely one minute early, as always. He snapped his watch closed with a satisfied nod, and tucked it into his watch pocket as Giles opened the door for him. He stepped aside so that Amanda could enter first, which she did only after he prodded her gently in the small of her back.

She seemed rather reluctant, Giles thought.

Not that he blamed her. Muggles made such a nasty business about ghosts and monsters and the like, it was no wonder they lived in such fear of them. Not that there weren't dangerous ghosts, monsters, and the like..but well, dash it---there were dangerous humans too, weren't there? He offered her a glass of brandy which she regretfully declined, claiming that if she were to truly believe in what she was going to see, she wanted to be clear headed.

" It wouldn't do any good, if I could say later it was alcohol!" she had teased. In truth, she would have welcomed the bracing drink, but she declined for Lottie's sake.

She did accept a cup of tea, though, politely ignoring the fact that the cup was dusty, and the rim was chipped. Strangely, it made her feel more relaxed, that dusty cup, and she settled back to listen while Edward and Giles talked about the week's pleasantries and news.

" Tell me Amanda, " Giles turned to her..." now, what do you think of our new Minister? "

" Well...from what I have been reading, he seems to be non-committal about some very important issues, and perhaps it is because of my position, but he strikes me as somewhat biased. "

" Haw!" Giles struck the chair arm. " Exactly what I've been saying! He should stop this constant dilly-dallying and set about being a proper minister. Now, biased yes. He is that. Indeed he is. He is all for the Purebloods--" he indicated Edward. " And leaves us Halfbloods at their mercy."

Edward gave a tight lipped smile to Giles.

" Not all Purebloods. He has a distinct appetite for the very wealthy. Even more so for the very generous."

" You mean, the very ambitious." Giles corrected.

" Well, yes. That is why he doesn't bother to court such persons as myself."

" Or Eloise Rookwood. "

They shared a dry chuckle. Amanda too, had to smile. Aunt Eloise was renowned for being many things, but charitable and ambitious were not among her repertoire.

Giles glanced up at the clock.

" Now I wonder what is keeping our other guest?" he mused.

Amanda resisted looking about. She was not too sure yet that she wasn't entangled in a sort of Wizarding joke, and being so keyed-up, she jumped slightly, when Giles stood and rang a tiny glass bell. The delicate, sharp sound echoed harshly through the silence.

" All right?" Edward whispered to her, so that Giles couldn't hear.

She gave a slight nod, not reassured by the brief silver twinkle in his wide, unblinking eyes.

" Might I come in?" a rich baritone voice asked from the other side of the door .

" Sir Humphrey! Of course...come on through."

Through? Amanda had time to think to herself before a silver shape began to squeeze through the very wood of the parlor door. At first she could not quite comprehend what was happening...it looked as though a cloud were oozing through the crevices, but the cloud had a vague shape and facial features.

She became aware of a prickling sensation along the fine hairs on her neck and arms, and a chill went down her back. She placed a hand on Edward's arm, no longer caring if he laughed at her for silliness. It was great comfort to her when he took her hand in his own and rubbed the palm soothingly.

Sir Humphrey Hample enjoyed making a show of his entry into a room, but since he was forbidden to burst unexpectedly through the wall and create havoc, he had to settle for slowly appearing, one body part at a time.This was very tedious and caused his wig to flatten. Once he was fully through, he took a moment to brush his robes, and straighten the hairpiece.

" Good afternoon." he greeted his audience, bowing slightly to Amanda. " Madam."

She found it suddenly difficult not to smile. It was obvious that he had been, while alive, a very handsome man with a long sharp nose, pointed chin and heavy-lidded eyes. Even now, in his powdered wig and shadowy robes he was distinguished and imposing.

" Sir Humphrey, you of course know my good friend Edward..."

" I've had the honor." Humphrey replied in a slightly bored tone.

" And this is his wife, Amanda."

" Indeed, my pleasure." he said, bending again from the waist and winking when he thought no one could see his face.

Introductions now over, Sir Humphrey 'seated' himself over a chair, floating slightly above the plush cushion.

" Now see, Amanda--a bona fide ghost!" Giles announced.

Sir Humphrey stiffened.

" I prefer the term 'spectral being'. " he said tersely.

" Of course, of course." Giles said, apologetically. " A spectral being. Nothing whatsoever to be frightened of."

" Oh yes there is." Humphrey said. " Do not let my personable demeanor fool you. I have control at present but at any given moment, I could spring up!" he half sprang, causing Amanda to jump. " Becoming vicious and bloodthirsty--ripping and devouring all that stand in my way or dare to step foot in my realm!"

At the sight of her widened eyes, he laughed.

" Just teasing you, my dear! Do I really strike you as the sort of spectral being who would devour? Or rip? Of course not. But I understand. You don't believe in ghosts. No, no...don't be embarrassed...I've seen to many skeptics in my death to not recognize one more. Don't let it bother you...I myself never believed in ghosts when I was alive. It almost scared me to death...well, to life, actually, when I saw my reflection the first time after the accident. I thought I was haunted! Spent the better part of a decade avoiding my bathroom mirror--oh, it was embarrassing the day I realized that was myself I was avoiding!"

" Oh! " Amanda exclaimed. "That must have been terrible for you!"

" Yes. But it's amusing to isn't it?"

" Well.." she admitted sheepishly, " Yes it is."

" Good! Now you can tell everyone that Sir Humphrey Hample is a funny fellow. Here touch my hand."

She looked to Edward, who was inscrutable, and then reached tentatively out toward Humphrey's hand. It was cold, and she drew back slightly.

" Go on, right on through! It won't hurt me or you."

She did as he said, and shivered at the unappealing sensation.

" What do you think?" he asked.

" Well, it's cold. "

" How cold it is! My feet haven't been warm in a century." he agreed sadly.

" It is also...silvery. In fact, it reminds me of...tiny glass bells. I don't know why."

" Well, thank you! That's the first time anyone has ever described the experience as something other than disturbing. Or creepy."

" Oh, it's not disturbing to me. Just as clouds aren't disturbing, or soft rains, or dreams. They are all cool and silvery as well. Is it lonely?"

" You are quite a lady...have you ever considered eloping with an old ghost? " he asked leaning towards her chair.

She blushed.

" Sir Humphrey! I am a married woman!"

He glanced up at Edward, who seemed surprisingly amused.

" In this life...in this life yes..." Humphrey said. " But in the afterlife...Mon Dieu! The things I could show you! You must promise me you will consider it."

" Shame on you. " she said, laughing. " For making me blush."

" Forgive me...forgive me. It's not often I see a pretty face in this house!" he nodded toward Giles.

" Well!" Giles exclaimed, indignantly. " Are you convinced yet, Amanda?"

" Yes! Than you Sir Humphrey, for helping me overcome my prejudices.It was very generous of you."

He leaned forward again.

" I was going to tell you that Barkwater there bribed me with an easel, but since you are so charming, I've decided to allow you to believe that I am simply gallant." he winked.

" Does anybody want to play a game of Lunatic Eights?" Giles asked, producing a deck of squirming cards. " Humphrey can show you the full extent of his talents. He is a a superb cheat."

" Barkwater, I will demand satisfaction for that remark one day." he said, and they gathered around the card table. Amanda was relieved, as Lunatic Eights was a game that Eloise had taught her, and she had some proficiency for.

However, it soon became clear that Humphrey was indeed cheating, or at least using his ghostly talents for the wrong purpose. Though it was an enjoyable evening, she didn't win a single hand, but she walked away being sincerely impressed by Sir Humphrey.

She swore to Edward later as they walked towards a good apparition point, that she would never doubt again in the existence of anything supernatural.

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Lyrics--Amanda Ghost