Name: That One Night

Prompt: SEEKER: Mizpah Hotel, Tonopah, Nevada: Write about a whispered confession. *must contain a ghost as a main character.

Word Count: 1006

Warnings: Brief mentions of Death, emotion

Her mouth twitched slightly.

"Hello," she muttered, turning her elegant body artistically towards the speaker.

"So… are you?" Luna asked, tilting her head around about forty five degrees in a way that had not failed her throughout her many years of investigation.

The Grey Lady shook her head mournfully. "Wrong again, unfortunately."

The smallish, blondish girl did not seem at all perturbed about the fact that she had once again failed to pinpoint the identity of her mysterious friend.

If Luna had been the type of person to give cheeky grins and ask even cheekier questions, this would have most likely been an instance where she did. Instead, she simply nodded and went back to silently sitting in the corner of the common room.

Helena Ravenclaw sighed and let her eyes wander over to the oval window that always shone over the statue of her mother around this time of year. Many moons ago, when her hands were still opaque, the school had considered adding a small ridge beneath the window. But now it stood quietly, letting the moon and the stars beam their brightness down upon it.

Now there was a show off.

It occurred to her that if she had still been alive, she would have been awfully tired at this point. But then again, if she was still alive… she would be awfully old and tired all the time, for that matter.

She cast her mind back to those late nights in this common room, when there was actually open space in the middle, and when none of the entrances were enchanted. Back when her body was less lean and imposing, but young and full of spirit. Like a young bird still trying to fly, or like a tadpole ready for a life of diets involving bugs, and exactly like…

…Luna.

She watched in awe as the child contemplated the identity of herself, crossing off names on chocolate frog cards, willfully ignoring their cries of indignation, a look of pure concentration on her face. She sat there, shivering slightly, making sure all of her belongings were nargle-proof, checking over the other delicious names for creatures that surely did not exist, if logic was still worth listening to. And Helena found herself wondering why Luna Lovegood spent so much time thinking about the identity of the woman who stood before her, rather than the identity of… her.

She had once been like that. Well, with fewer nargles, of course, but similar, at least. The joys of being young. Trying to figure out who you were going to be, what the world around you was about. How life works. Trying to figure out what all those four letter words your parents use in frustration mean. All of the happiness, all of the crying, and all of the things you hate and wish would go away, only to then leave, only for you to feel empty afterwards. All of the arguments with siblings, all of the all-nighters you pull with your friends. All of the wonder that comes with being utterly clueless. All of it. You could almost make a separate society from it.

And then you grow up.

Little changes, depending on how you look at it. You're still you, just changed. You have different friends, you have arguments with different people. You have kids, and a life, and a living, and, frankly, you still know nothing about the world, though you'd like to pretend otherwise.

But it does feel different. In a way that's hard to explain. She glanced at her body in comparison to Luna's. So much taller. So much more complex, yet with fewer bones. It acted as somewhat of a metaphor for how life changes. The world, in a way, does become taller, and more thin, if you like. You have more responsibilities, you have a new way of life, but that life remains your life.

The thing that changes throughout life, really, is you. You see everyone around you changing, you see the world changing, but you never quite apply that logic to yourself. Perhaps it was religious, she thought, but people hold onto the idea of a soul, of never changing and remaining the same person, and yet even after death, the Grey Lady had changed by the day. If she met herself how she was when she had died, the two women would not be able to stand each other. In a friendly rivalry sort of way.

Many people would perhaps call this a very clever thought. Maybe it was. But Helena Ravenclaw had had centuries of time to think this idea over. Plus, she was in Ravenclaw.

Her thoughts continued, in a similar tone, on this path for what could have been an hour ten hours, or perhaps just a minute, before the girl who she always compared herself to stood up and asked a very intelligent question indeed.

"Why are you in Ravenclaw?"

It was a simple inquiry. Completely usual, and a question she was open about. And yet she could not help but gulp.

"Why?" she replied, trying to keep the dastardly shaking out of her voice.

"Well, I'm out of chocolate frog cards."

She smiled. Funny answer. Funny girl. She glanced around.

"Well, my mother was in Ravenclaw, and I was, too. I'm smart. And I felt a certain amount of pressure to be here for… reasons."

Luna adjusted her crazy glasses peering over them. "Was your mother famous?"

"Yes. Very. But perhaps not in… France, for example," she answered.

The next statement was very specific and unexpected. "Well," she thought for a moment, then continued quietly. "That makes it quite easy."

Her chin raised, very slightly. "Oh?"

"Yes." Luna nodded.

She blinked. "So you know-?"

"Yes."

She paused.

"And-?"

"Yes."

"And even-?"

"Well, not that much."

She nodded. "Right. You'd best be off to bed, it'll be day soon."

Luna grinned widely and bounded off upstairs. It was perhaps the only time Luna Lovegood has been witnessed to do something of the sort.