Dead? I'm not dead! I tried talking just once more. Again, nothing. The woman then stepped forward. She was a looker. Her hair was long, straight and black, and she had cinnamon brown eyes. Her teeth were a tad crooked, but that gave her a little character.
"Mr. Weasley," she said, reading from a piece of paper. I noticed her Scottish accent almost immediately. "You died on May 2, 1998, at approximately 7:45 p.m. We would like to welcome you to the Afterlife." Afterlife? Shit, what about my life-life?!
As though Mr. Goatee had read my mind, he said, "Unfortunately, you cannot come back to life unless there are some extreme conditions, and I warn you to stay away from those. After reading your record, we have decided not to tell you those conditions so as not to tempt you." When he finished, he looked at me expectantly.
"What do you want, I've alr-" I stopped. I could talk now. Could I move, too? I tried. No, I couldn't move, too. "God dammit," I muttered.
"Mr. Weasley," the woman started, but I cut her off with, "Call me Fred, please. I'm not formal." She sighed and continued, "Mr. Weasley, I am going to be your guide to the Afterlife. My name is Emily Cole. If you could move you would notice I am not currently tangible. That is because I am alive. I am a medium and this is merely my voice. You aren't technically seeing me, but rather my soul."
"Why aren't I in Heaven? I'm not that dastardly, you know," I said. I did want to know why I didn't see bright clouds and blue skies filled with harp-playing angels and was instead in a probably black room with a very bright light right above my face.
"You may have heard of unfinished business," Mr. Goatee said.
"Well, no shit, I have unfinished business!" I shouted indignantly, "I died when I was twenty!" I wanted to yell more, but my voice was suddenly silenced. I had just left everyone I knew behind! I didn't even get to see Harry fight Voldy!
"Mr. Weasley," Emily said again, "We know this must be very hard for you. You must bear with us. The Afterlife can be rather fun, really. I can help you to see that." By this point, I honestly didn't care if she was as beautiful as Aphrodite, I didn't like her. I had met the Hogwarts ghosts, and if I weren't a poltergeist, then the Afterlife wouldn't be fun. I wanted to see my family and friends. I wanted out of this place. I had never feared death, but twenty is just too young to die.
"I must inform you," Mr. Goatee said mournfully, "You aren't really a ghost that others can see, yet. You are currently amorphous to any but the dead and mediums." The Afterlife sucks, I decided. What's the point in being dead if you can't even be seen?
"Mr. Weasley," I wished she'd just call me Fred already, "you are about to leave this place. You will be in the Land of the Living. Are you ready?"
"Whatever," I groaned, finally getting to speak again. Yes, the Afterlife was indeed going to suck.