A/N: Well, I decided to write it. The first fanfic to have Peeves as

 

the main character. It’s also got Ginny as its other main character,

and you’ll see how that works out. Both of them are indeed in this

first chapter, although not in the same setting. They’ll be meeting

later. Let’s see, story notes. It’s rated PG just to be

safe, I don’t think there’s anything terribly inappropriate in it, and

yes it really is humor/angst. Is that a first too? The story just sort

of came to me one evening and who am I to defy inspiration? (Even if it

does mean putting my other fic on the back burner for a little while)

I’m not sure that there are going to be a very large number of you

reading this since it’s not, ya know, something that most people would

think of reading, so if you are and you want to be supportive, please

review. I’m going to write this whether I get review or not, but

getting them makes it more likely that I will update more than once a

month.

If you’re reading this because like me, you’re a Ginny fan, stick with

me, she is in the chapter like I said just a few pages in. Now READ

READ I TELL YE!

Disclaimer:… Now I know you know JK Rowling owns the HP universe, and

if you think I’m her that’s just silly. She wouldn’t be writing this,

she needs to get busy writing the rest of the series so she can start

on the prequel with the Marauders.

Curious Coincidences and Odd Associations

By Lejindarybunny

Chapter one… Tales Begin in the Mists of Time

 

---

 

part one

 

---

 

The bookcase crashed to the ground with a satisfying ‘thunk’ spilling

books across the floor. Somewhere on the grounds Madam Pince snorted

and tossed in her sleep, preternatural library senses somehow aware of

the incident. The red-headed entity dusted his hands together in a

contented fashion and hastily made his exit, the yowl of an aged cat

his cue.

Peeves giggled darkly to himself, drifting through the midnight

environs of the corridor, the ranting and raving of Filch clearly

audible to the poltergeist. Not for kiddies, the caretaker’s words,

no, no, much too harsh for innocent ears. Good thing all the little

tots were still away for the summer, wasn’t it? He chuckled. Such a

delight, the angry tone, so gratifying. Momentarily at least. But

elation faded to vague amusement and finally back to tedium.

There wasn’t a lot for him to do right now, not even all the teachers

were there yet. The year wouldn’t start for another, what was it, day?

Two maybe? A week? He was always terrible at measuring time, and far be

it for anybody to give him the day of the week, oh no. He snorted.

Time, time, time. All he ever HAD was time! Whenever he was bored it

seemed to stretch on forever, but when he was doing something

interesting it had to vanish like a very quickly vanishing thing,

didn’t it? It was so frustrating, and tonight he was even more restless

than usual.

He pouted and crossed his arms. Stupid summer holidays. Peeves bit

his lip, a human mannerism he’d picked up some when along the way. He

leaned against the wall and sunk down through the floor to the drafty,

disused premises of the lower dungeons. Bored, bored, bored, bored,

bored, bored, BORED!

The lower dungeons played homes to most of the castles ghosts and

Peeves was as welcome there as he was in any part of the castle. Which

was to say, about as welcome as grave robbers or some nasty form of

mold. But it was the only place to find anyone conscious to talk to,

or more likely at, at this time of night and this season, unless he

felt like visiting Myrtle in the girl’s toilet. Which he didn’t.

“Nicky,” he called in what failed miserably at being a pleasant and

genial tone. “Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick, Nicky!”

The spirit of Sir Nicholas De Mimsey Porpington did not appear.

Unsurprising to say the least, as most people, living or dead, tended

to avoid him like the plague and with about the same degree of

efficiency. He was somewhat offended by the fact, at least, when he

didn’t find it funny.

“Keep it down!” someone snapped, “SOME of us are BUSY, I’ll have you

know!”

Peeves poked his head through the wall to see Edmund still hard at

work, sitting at his vaporous desk, scribbling on a ghostly scroll with

an equally insubstantial quill.

“Oh?” he grinned, raising an eyebrow in mock interest. “Whatcha

writing Eddy?”

The scribe grimaced. “None of your business! Now go away!” He held

his paper to him like some dear treasure.

The delinquent of a spirit took on a hurt expression. “Not that’s

mean, Eddikins, I just wanted to read it. Why won’t you let me?” He

grinned wickedly. “Ooooooo, I know. It’s a LOVE letter ISN’T it?”

“NO!” The ghost blushed.

“It IS! I knew it! I’ll go tell Lila you’re writing poetry about her

again!” He turned as if to leave.

“Don’t you dare Peeves! I’ll, I’ll, I’ll get the Baron!” Edmund

glared.

He froze. “Heheh, only joking, wouldn’t dream of embarrassing Eddy,

would we? Of course we wouldn’t! I’ll just be going now,” he said

quickly, alternately nodding and shaking his head for emphasis.

“You do that,” Edmund said stoically.

“Bye,” Peeves waved nervously, turned around and left, going back

into the main corridor. “Stupid self-centered writer jerk. Tattletale.

‘I’ll tell the Baron on you’,” he mocked in a high-pitched, insulted

tone and then fell to muttering. “Tell on Peeves; spoil his fun,

that’s right. Nobody cares how I might feel on the issue, do they?

Nobody ever thinks about MY feelings. Hmph.”

He drifted through the hallway for quite a way and up the stairs into

the main dungeon, where most of the year there would have been little

sharp-eyed students about. Not many at this hour, but still, he might

have had a bit of fun intruding on illicit couples snogging in corners.

He floated up another set of stairs and paused to pull down a

Ravenclaw tapestry for no other reason than he never much cared for

Ravenclaws. Stuffy gits.

With nothing better to do at the moment he slipped into the kitchens

which were, for a rare moment, abandoned. It must be very late/early

indeed if the little house elves weren’t hard at work cooking and

telling him to get out. He drummed his fingers on a counter and rested

his chin on his other hand. This had to be, for no discernable reason,

the absolute nastiest day he’d had in a while. There was nothing to do

and no one would talk to him and there was no one to follow around and

bother and he just generally wasn’t feeling his pleasantest.

Peeves looked out of the corner of his eye, his gaze coming to rest

on the handle of a pan. A sneer twisting his colorless lips he grabbed

the pan and threw it full force into a rack of dishes. The noise it

made was wonderful, just the right amount of smash and tinkle as the

delicate china was separated forcefully into a million pieces. Grinning

manically he hefted a pot up off the stove and threw it at the other

pots hanging from the ceiling. Not only did they bonk and tong together

like some blasphemous sort of wind chime but a good number of them fell

to the floor in a great cacophony of a racket.

Peeves cackled and dove around the room picking up and tossing every

object that his hands fell on. By now he heard yelling and heavy

footfalls coming towards him. He didn’t care.

The door swung open. “PEEVES!!” Filch shouted.

The poltergeist turned around and blew a raspberry at him.

The caretaker did something that Peeves had never seen him do before.

He whipped out a wand, pointed it, and yelled in a very gravelly voice,

“EXISPECTRE!!”

There was a bang and a flash of sickly pink light and-

 

---

 

Peeves was lying on his back with his eyes closed. He realized he

must have been knocked unconscious. It had happened once before during

the middle ages when a particularly irate seventh year Slytherin had

hexed him. That time was different than this in one rather large

respect, that time he’d woken up with no ill effects whatsoever, just a

little bit of missing time and a grudge. Now however there was a very

unpleasant sensation running all through him, especially in the area of

his head. If he didn’t know better he would have said it was pain.

But that was silly. He couldn’t feel pain, after all.

He didn’t feel up to opening his eyes at the moment, but he realized

he heard voices, Filch and old Al Dumbledore.

“I didn’t mean to, Dumbledore, sir,” Filch was saying, in an

incredibly humble and penitent tone. “He was wrecking the kitchens

again and since I’d been studying, and all, I thought I could give him

what for, if you take my meaning. I was only trying to hex him, you

understand, not…”

Talking about him were they, hmmmm? He’d listen a bit longer.

“Yes, yes Argus, I understand your feelings,” the Headmaster

answered. “You had every right to be upset but that does not change the

fact that whatever your intentions were the outcome has been both

unexpected and quite serious.”

“I know sir, but isn’t there some way to, to well…”

“Change him back?” He paused and said very gravely. “I do not know.

On top of that- Argus, what you have done is a very complex, and

profound piece of magic. Most respectable wizards would tell you what

you did was completely impossible, even theoretically.”

Oh no, what had Filch done to him? Now that they mentioned it, he did

feel very strange, and not just the unpleasantness. He felt very heavy

and there was a very odd pulsing sensation he felt. Peeves came to the

conclusion that what he needed to do first was open his eyes.

“Besides,” Albus continued, “have you considered that he may not want

the transformation undone?”

What WERE they talking about? He had to know! He forced his eyes open

and found that he was lying on a cot in the hospital wing with the

curtain drawn around him. He could see the shapes of old Alby and Filch

standing just outside.

Uncomfortably he raised a hand to pull away the curtain and stopped.

He stared, his gaze panning slowly from the tips of his fingers, to his

knuckles, to his hand, wrist, and arm. The amazing thing was that he

was actually looking AT his arm, and not through it. It was pale,

almost white, with dots of orange freckles here and there. At first it

didn’t quite register to Peeves that this was his own arm. He wiggled

his fingers, just to be sure.

“Yeeeeaaaaaah!” he wailed, terrified, “Look what you’ve done to my

beautiful wickedness!!” He drew his arms close around himself

protectively.

Dumbledore gently pulled open the curtain and looked down at him,

eyes concerned behind half-moon spectacles. Filch was lingering in the

background looking very, very awkward.

“Peeves,” the Headmaster said cautiously.

The ex-poltergeist continued to wail both incoherently and very

loudly.

“Peeves!” Dumbledore said much more firmly in a tone that brooked no

argument.

The figure immediately stopped howling and looked darkly up at the

old man. Peeves was trembling violently. “Whasee done to me? Wha’s

Filchy done this time?” he demanded.

Dumbledore sat down on the edge of the bed. He fixed the cowering

form with a very serious, but very kindly gaze. “I think you already

know the answer to that.”

Peeves looked up at him. Then he looked at Filch, who looked away.

Then he closed his eyes. “Turned me into a human, didninee?”

“Yes, that is what happened,” he agreed.

Someone hurried into the room. “What happened; who’s hurt?” It was

Madam Pomfrey and she sounded very upset and worried. “I heard someone

yelling. Who is that?”

“Please calm yourself Poppy. There has been a small accident,”

Dumbledore told her. “I will gladly explain, but I would be most

grateful if you would care to fetch us all something to eat, and

perhaps to drink as well, beforehand.”

“Of course Albus,” she agreed and bustled out of the room.

Filch had started pacing the room anxiously.

“Sit down Argus,” the Headmaster instructed, “It is not the end of

the world.”

“Yes it is!” Peeves disagreed.

“No, it is not,” Dumbledore said, giving him a look. “And I don’t

believe that you will think so either after you become accustomed to

the idea.”

He turned over on his side. “Hmph, bet he did it on purpose.

Everybody knows he hates me. Wants to get rid of me he does.”

“Now, now-“

Madam Pomfrey reentered the room carrying a tray with four mugs of

hot chocolate and pastries. “Here we are, Albus,” she said, setting the

tray down. “Now, who is this young man? I didn’t know there were any

students arriving early this ear. I’ve never seen him before, is he a

new student?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” The Headmaster picked up one of the

mugs and handed it to Peeves.

“Well, what happened? He looks alright to me,” the nurse said,

looking him over with a keen eye.

“Less than an hour ago,” Dumbledore said, “Argus here heard quite a

commotion. Going to investigate he found Peeves making something of a

mess of the kitchens. Master Filch then attempted a hex to deter him.

This however, did not work as planned…”

Madam Pomfrey frowned. “Headmaster, surely you don’t mean to tell me

that…”

Dumbledore smiled. “Poppy, may I introduce you to Peeves the

poltergeist.”

The red-head wasn’t really paying attention; he was still busy trying

to figure out what Dumbledore wanted him to do with the cocoa.

“But, how?” Pomfrey asked, sitting down.

“I am not certain. Nor am I certain of the permanence of the

transformation. It is entirely possible that the spell may wear off

after some time.” Dumbledore took a drink of his own hot chocolate and

then turned to Peeves. “I suggest you drink that some time soon. It’s

not quite as pleasant after it gets cold.”

Drink it? he furrowed his brow. He’d seen people eat and drink before

but he had of course, never been able to do it. Wouldn’t the ghosts be

jealous if he could! Gingerly he brought the cup to his lips and tipped

the liquid into his mouth.

The sensation was unbelievable. He could actually TASTE it, warm and

rich and smooth. Greedily he filled his mouth with it.

Dumbledore smiled. “I think you’d best swallow before long.”

Swallow? Oh of course, swallow. Otherwise he’d choke, wouldn’t he? He

swallowed, finding the sensation of the liquid draining down his body

odd but not unpleasant, and drank some more. Peeves was sure that

drinking hot chocolate was the reason people seemed to enjoy being

alive so much.

“What are you going to do with him in the meantime then, Albus?”

Poppy asked curiously, still watching the former spirit.

Dumbledore too now looked him over with a wide smile. “Oh, I don’t

know, I’d say he looks about a fourth year, wouldn’t you Argus?”

“Er, what, sir? You don’t mean you’re going to put him with the

students do you? Why, I have enough trouble already with those

Weasleys, I shudder to think-“

“It seems to me,” Dumbledore said, “rather than a bad influence on

the students, they might be just as much of a good influence on him,

mightn’t they?”

“… I suppose,” Filch muttered, not really convinced.

Peeves smirked and stuck his tongue out at the defeated caretaker.

Then he looked disappointedly down at the mug to realize that all the

chocolate was gone. He pursed his lips crossly and was about to say

something.

“Why don’t you try a pastry,” Dumbledore suggested, handing him one.

He took it with out the hesitation of before and bit into it. Yes,

eating was good too. “S’not bad,” he said.

“I thought you’d like it,” the Headmaster agreed. “You’re welcome.”

Peeves completely missed his cue to say ‘thank you’.

“If you’re not too busy tomorrow Poppy I would like for you to take

him to Diagon Alley to get his school things.”

She hesitated. “Ah, of course Albus, but, what will you do if the

change was permanent? I mean he doesn’t have any where to go or well…”

Dumbledore gave her a confident smile. “I have a feeling things will

work themselves out. But,” he turned to Peeves, “While I am going to

inform the staff of this situation it might be a good idea if you

thought of something to call yourself, at least for a while. The truth

of the matter might serve only to alienate others.”

“I’ll think on it,” he answered through his last mouthful of pastry.

Now,” the Headmaster stood up. “I suggest we all get some rest

before tomorrow sneaks up on the lot of us.”

 

---

 

part two

 

---

 

Ginny stared out the window at the pouring rain. School started in

just two days and, while she was happy to be starting her fourth year

at Hogwarts she definitely had a bit of end of summer melancholy. She’d

be seeing all her school friends, yes, but she didn’t have very many.

Her entire first year had been ruined by the whole stupid diary

incident and people were right when they said first impressions lasted.

As if she didn’t feel bad enough about the experience people had never

gotten over seeing her as weird and withdrawn if not downright

antisocial. It wasn’t that they were unfriendly exactly, Gryffindors

almost never were, but they seemed hesitant to get as close to her as

they might.

Well, Colin Creevy seemed to like her well enough, but she wasn’t

all that fond of him. He just wasn’t well, the sharpest cookie. And

anyway, all he ever wanted to talk about was Harry, who despite being

her brother’s best friend, never seemed to want to talk to her.

That thought made her even more distressed. He’d been living with

them in Ron’s room practically all summer and he’d still barely said

five words to her. She was beginning to think that maybe he really was

a jerk. After all, those magazine articles couldn’t have been

completely made up, could they?

Ginny sighed. Thinking about Harry always made her alternately want

to blush and swoon or scream and throw pillows. Not that she would,

she was too old for temper tantrums, and she’d never been very good at

them when she was younger anyway. She’d always somehow just ended up in

tears.

She needed something else to think about before she did end up in

tears. School was of course the main topic of the day, the week really.

Fred and George would be in there last year. Next year it would be just

her and Ron. She wondered who the new Defense against the Dark Arts

teacher would be. She thought it was kind of funny the way they never

had one for more than a year, even though it was always a bad thing

when they left. She wished Professor Lupin could have stayed, but no,

grouchy old Snape had to go and tell everybody he was a werewolf. She

thought she remembered one of the twins telling her they heard it would

be a girl this year but they were too busy with that money Harry had

given them to talk to her much.

And Percy was as busy as her father at the ministry now, and Ron was

always busy with Harry, so busy Ginny almost half-believed the jokes

that Fred and George made all the time. Sometimes Ginny felt like she

got lost among her brothers and she was past the age where her parents

paid more attention to her just because she was the youngest. True, her

mum had said she could invite someone over for the summer if she wanted,

but she hadn’t been able to think of anyone she wanted to see that

badly and for that long.

She sighed and closed her curtains; the rain wasn’t doing anything to

improve her mood. Sometimes she wished she didn’t have Charlie’s old

room all too herself. It was funny how lonely one could get with such a

big family.

She stood up, only to sit down again, this time at her little desk

and took out a sheet of parchment and a quill. She’d finished all her

over the holidays work, she didn’t leave it to last minute like Fred

and George, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have anything to write.

While she hadn’t actually kept a diary for years (bad memories) she

couldn’t help writing stray thoughts on bits of parchment. She kept

those all dated and in a drawer and she thought maybe one day she’d bind

them all together and make a book out of them.

Ginny ran her fingers anxiously through her goldish orange hair. It

was long now; she hadn’t cut it in a while, halfway down her back. She

liked to have her mother braid it for her, or, more often now days

she’d do it herself. Right now however it was hanging loose over her

shoulders and falling in her face over her brown eyes. She’d thought

about using magic to change the color, just to make her stand out from

the rest of her family but not only would she probably get one of those

stupid ‘underage magic’ letters but her mum would scold her and just

turn it back.

She dipped her quill in the bottle of purple ink she’d bought by

saving up the little bit of pocket money and started writing.

September 5

I never thought I’d be so happy to be going back to school. It’s

maddening around here, with Ron and Harry holed up in their room and

Fred and George holed up in theirs and Percy at the ministry with Dad,

pretending that the whole world hangs in the balance every time he

files some stupid bit of paperwork. Mum’s practically been having a

continuous panic attack since the beginning of summer. I can understand

because they’re saying that you-know-who is back.

That scares me too. What if he comes back and tries to use me again?

I know Dumbledore said the connection was broken but what if he was

wrong?

What If I’m a tainted flower

With stained petals

No one will pick

I talked to Dad about it this morning, he told me not to worry about

it too much but he seemed pretty worried. Then Percy walked in and said

‘of course I didn’t need to be worried; nothing was going to happen to

us’. He was LISTENING in on my conversation with Dad! Sometimes I don’t

know about Percy, he’s been acting really funny for the last year or so.

Sometimes I think he doesn’t believe YKW is back, and sometimes I think

he just might not care. I know it’s a horrible thing to think but…

Mum’s taking us all (Me, Ron, Harry, F+G) to Diagon Alley tomorrow to

get new (well, you know what I mean) school things. I have a little bit

of the money I’ve been saving. I think it’s enough to but one of those

cute imported muggle shirts from Felicia’s Fabulous Fashions. They

don’t cost too much because they’re made from such cheap fabric.

(And so little of it too. I’d have to hide it from mum.)

I heard the pantry open last night and I went down to look but nobody

was there. I think Fred and George might be experimenting with

invisibility or something. Don’t know why they’d want to though, it

feels like I’m invisible every day and it isn’t much fun.

I was looking at my divinations book earlier (I decided to take it

this year just because Ron said he hated it. I can always drop it)

We’re going to be using Tarot cards and it says we’ll get the best

results if we have our own deck. Maybe I ought to buy one instead of

the shirt since mum’ll only take that away if she finds it. But then

again if I don’t like Divinations it’ll just be a waste of money. Ron

always says he hates being poor but that’s just because he always buys

the first thing he looks at instead of thinking about what he wants

more. If he didn’t complain about it all the time maybe the Slytherins

wouldn’t harass him about it so much. Talk about opening yourself up to

mockery. I think Ron just likes to complain about things. At least

Harry actually talks to him.

He’s not even that cute anyway (Harry, not Ron, I don’t mean Ron’s

cute either, but oh never mind) I don’t know why I like him so much

anyway, just because he’s so heroic I guess. I don’t know. Can you like

someone for no good reason? Must be, because I can’t think of any

terribly good reasons.

It’s pouring out; it’ll be all mushy outside tomorrow. Oops, I mean

today. I just checked the clock and its a few minutes past midnight.

Mum’d probably hang me if she bothered to check if I was up or not.

She never does though. And anyway, I’m almost fourteen aren’t I? They

ought to let me stay up a little bit. I’m not the least bit tired.

Maybe it’s because I haven’t really done anything all day, and I got

up late. I watched the boys play two on two Quidditch for a little

while, and Fred let me sub for him for a few minutes, but I’m not very

good at it anyway. It’s okay to watch though, if I don’t have anything

better to do. Colin said he was going to try out for the team this

year. I wonder if he’ll make it. I wonder if he’ll even remember to try

out. He might have gotten on to a different kick by now. No, scratch

that, he’ll remember because Harry’s on the team. Come to think of it,

Ron wants to try out too, for keeper.

No one else agrees

But I think Quidditch’s boring

I’d rather not play

That’s a haiku, a kind of Japanese poetry. Percy talked about them a

few days ago at dinner, but he was mostly talking about this one

Japanese wizard he admires who writes them all the time. Percy was

saying something about how hard the Japanese work all the time. I read

in Teen Witch magazine that young Japanese witches kill themselves if

they don’t get all hundreds in their classes. That’s a bit obsessive if

you ask me. I can picture Percy doing it though, if he’d ever failed

anything in school. Maybe Hermione too.

Speaking of school, I can’t believe I made it all the way to fourth

year. I don’t mean that I thought I was going to flunk out or anything,

but it’s so weird, like just yesterday I was only in first year. And

that’ not a very happy thought. It almost feels like my life is

slipping away from me like sand and the days just blur together. It’s

been like that for a while. Sometimes I think that maybe I was supposed

to die that night in The Chamber and my life feels empty because I’m

just living on borrowed time. I wonder if destiny can be cheated like

that. If anyone could do it, it would be Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry, I

try but I can’t stop myself from thinking about him all the time.

It’s almost like life revolves around him. Not just my life, but

everybody’s life, that we’re all defined by how we know Harry. Is it

always that way with powerful wizards? Maybe Dumbledore’s classmates

felt that way too. Harry and Dumbledore seem a lot alike to me, I

wonder if anybody else notices. Like Dumbledore’s a really, really old

Harry. Maybe he is an older Harry. Maybe sometime in the future Harry

travels back in time to whenever Dumbledore was born and stayed there.

Maybe that’s how Dumbledore seems to know everything. Impossible most

likely, but it’d be funny if it was true. I wonder what it would be

like, meeting your younger self and pretending to be somebody else.

I know if I could go back and meet my younger self I’d have some

advice to give her. Hello, Ginny, this is Ginny. Don’t be an idiot.

Maybe I should take my own advice.

Maybe I ought to go to bed. Mum will get me up early to go to Diagon

Alley anyway, and if I’m all tired she’ll suspect something. Or make me

take some nasty potion. Or both. Well, here are a couple more pages for

the drawer of paper.

Ginny

Ginny yawned and wiggled her fingers to un-cramp them. She put the

cap back on her ink bottle and shoved it, the quill and the paper in

her desk drawer. Quietly she pushed in her chair, turned around and sat

down on her bed.

She pulled down her covers and already in her pajamas, slid under

them. She reached up and blew out the candles that lit her room,

sending it into darkness. She yawned again and closed her eyes. Would

anything interesting happen this year? Well, the answer to that was

obvious. The better question was ‘would anything interesting happen to

HER?’ Another good one was did she really want it to. After all, the

last time something interesting had happened that involved her she’d

nearly died. At this point though she almost wished that ANYTHING at

all would happen to her just to stop the monotony of being the

invisible youngest Weasley.

To be continued…

Wow, you read the entire chapter, I’m impressed. (It was very long,

wasn’t it?) Next chapter, both Ginny and Peeves go to Diagon Alley.

Will they meet? What do you think? Input, constructive criticism,

ideas, praise, anything you want to say is welcome. Not flames though,

flames make me sad.

Read it? Review it!

A/N: Hey, thanks very much to everyone for reviewing. I’m so glad

 

somebody likes this. Sorry it took so long to write but I’ve been in a

slump recently, life’s been hectic and I have another story that

unfortunately takes precedence over this one. I forgot to mention last

chapter that my short story ‘The Art of Destruction’ doubles as the

prologue for this story. So go read it. Sorry if it inconveniences

anyone.

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to Harry Potter I’d be writing this

while sipping umbrella drinks in the Bahamas, not in my room gnawing

on a stale donut.

Chapter two… Morning Has Broken

 

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part one

 

---

 

Peeves might have slept a lot longer if he hadn’t fallen out of the

bed. As it was he woke with a jolt and a snort, tangled somehow in both

the bed sheets and the curtains. He looked around startled, quite

unsure of where he was.

“Whowhashwhere?” he demanded incoherently, trying only half

successfully to sit up. And the he remembered what was going on and he

flumped back down to the floor.

It was at that moment of course that Madam Pomfrey came in to check

on him. She stood a few feet away stifling a small laugh and asked, “Would

you like some help, dear?”

Peeves pursed his lips and shimmied himself back into a sitting

position against the bed. “Nope, got it.” He began determinedly

attempting to tug apart the sheet that had somehow twined itself around

his arms like handcuffs, or more accurately, like a straightjacket.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded and applied himself more vigorously to the cloth. Try as he

might however the ‘bonds’ would not loosen.

Pomfrey sighed and waved her wand, the sheets fell easily away from

Peeves’ body.

“Hey!” he said indignantly. “I said I could do it, dinn I?”

“I’m sure you could have, it was just quicker for me to do it.”

“Hmph.” Now untangled he leapt into the air and promptly toppled down

onto the bed. He stared dumbfounded. What had gone wrong?

He heard the nurse sigh. “Humans can’t float or fly Peeves, not

without brooms at least. You’re going to be walking from now on.”

Peeves was horrorstruck. “WHAT?!” he shrieked.

She winced. “I’m sorry.” she offered.

He crossed his arms. “At’s not fair. Walking’s stupid.” He pouted.

“You can’t make me walk.”

Pomfrey however, was not impressed. “Well then you’re going to be

sitting there for a very long time, I’m afraid. I’ll just go tell the

headmaster I won’t be needed to take you to Diagon Alley after all.”

She turned to leave.

“Waitamininit! Didn’t say I wouldn’t, did I?”

“Oh?” She looked back at him.

Never once in all his existence had Peeves been off the castle

grounds, he simply wasn’t able to exist beyond them. It was a fact that

he’d always found rather depressing and he’d usually gotten rather

upset when he heard students talking about being anywhere but in school.

Such students generally ended up very wet.

But now he had the chance to see somewhere besides the stupid old

castle. The only catch was he was going to have to walk. Well, how

hard could it be, anyway? Humans did it all the time, there was no

reason he shouldn’t be able to do it, and easily.

“Hokee,” he said and regarded the floor as though it was his

arch-nemesis, which, to his way thinking, it was. Now how was it that

mortals did this sort of thing? Well, they usually started with both

feet on the ground, he was fairly sure of that at least. Peeves put one

hand on the bed post to catch himself in the unlikely event that

something should go wrong and slid off the bed to his feet.

He promptly fell to his knees with a thump.

His eyes flashed and he looked up at Pomfrey who was hurrying over.

He crossed his arms sulkily and demanded, “What went wrong?”

The nurse suppressed a sigh of resignation. “I expect you forgot to

use your legs to brace yourself.”

“Huh?”

Now she did sigh. “Give me your hand Peeves,” she said extending her

own.

“No!” he protested. “It’s mine, fair and square!”

Pomfrey’s patience was wearing thin. She put her free hand on her

hip. “I’m not going to take it from you,” she explained carefully.

“I’m going to help you stand up.”

He continued to regard her mistrustfully.

“I have better things to do today than cart ungrateful brats all

around Diagon Alley, you know.”

That did it. He thrust his entire right arm at the woman.

The nurse grasped his hand firmly. “Now, I’m going to help you get up,

but you need to brace yourself against the floor.”

He blinked at her. “Whasat?”

She took a deep breath. How did one explain standing up? “Sort of

push down on the floor with your feet,” she ventured.

Peeves considered this. He supposed it was worth a try at least. The

worst thing that could happen was that he’d fall down, again.

“Are you ready?”

“Yep.”

“Alright now, push down,” she said and pulled him up by the hand.

Peeves pushed down on the floor and miraculously felt himself

standing up, partly under his own power. Once he was all the way

standing up, Pomfrey put her free hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Alright then, you’re standing up. Now, I’m going to let go of you in

a moment, and I want you to continue standing up. Just, keep doing what

you’re doing now. Keep your legs tense so they’ll support you. You

don’t want to fall down again.”

She was right about that. Falling down hurt! He nodded.

“Alright then. I’m letting you go now.” As she said this she eased

her hands off him and took a step backwards.

Peeves squinted an eye, concentrating on not falling down. And he

didn’t fall down. “‘Snot so hard,” he said rather smugly.

“No? Good then,” she took a few steps away. “Walk toward me.”

Peeves looked down at his feet, halfway covered by the long hospital

gown he was wearing. “Er-“

“Put one foot down in front of the other,” she instructed. “Watch

me.” She took two steps forward, then turned around and took two steps

back.

He watched her closely. Again, it didn’t seem like a difficult task.

How hard could it be when humans did it practically all day long? But

this time he was more carefully as he attempted the mortal mode of

motion.

Gingerly he lifted one foot, copying the nurse’s movement, and put it

down in front of the other. He wobbled a bit but did not fall. Quite

pleased with himself he lifted the other foot and put it in front of

the first one. He looked back over his shoulder and realized that he

was no longer standing in the same spot. He laughed and confidently

took another two steps forward.

Madam Pomfrey nodded with approval. “Very good. Very good. Now,

turn around.”

Peeves figured out turning for himself, spinning around on his heel

and marching in the other direction. Now quite sure he didn’t need any

more walking lessons he decided to leave the room and see what the

castle looked like from a walking point of view. He walked all the way

across the room and into the wall. Now he fell down.

“OW!!” he complained loudly, rubbing his backside. “What

happened?”

Pomfrey sighed. “You can’t go through things either Peeves. You’re

solid.”

That was right, humans were solid. What fun was that? He stood up

again and poked the wall. “Huh. Bloody ‘ell, that’s weird.”

“Peeves, watch your language,” Madam Pomfrey scolded.

“Hmph,” he pouted. “Well, c’n we go yet?”

“Patience. You can’t go out dressed like that.” She gestured at his

mint green hospital gown.

“Why not?” he demanded petulantly.

“Because people would stare. Now just a moment.” She waved her

wand. “Apparicium Apparel.”

A pile of neatly folded clothing appeared on the bed. Peeves picked

them up and inspected them: black trousers, cream colored shirt,

charcoal grey vest, black wizard’s cloak and sneakers. He made a face

and dropped them to the floor. “Won’t wear ’em.”

“Oh good heavens, why not?” the nurse was becoming quite

exasperated by now.

He crossed his arms. “They’re ugly. There’s no color.”

“For Merlin’s sake,” she muttered under her breath. “All right, what

colors do you want?”

He shrugged. “Brighter. Purple, green. Blue maybe.”

The woman was past her last nerve. If the boy wanted to look like he

fell into a paint shop let him. She waved her wand again. “Tintirius.”

Peeves watched the pile of clothes on the floor change colors with

satisfaction. The shirt turned royal violet, the vest emerald green and

the cloak and pants both turned a deep shade of blue.

“Better?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“Much.”

“I’ll just leave while you change then.” Madam Pomfrey bustled out of

the room, sincerely hoping Peeves would be able to dress without her

help.

 

---

 

part two

 

---

 

Ginny woke to her mother shouting at the twins for something or

another. It was a common enough occurrence at the Burrow and Ginny

wasn’t overly worried, only rather regretful that yet another day would

start on that note. She yawned tiredly and looked out the window. It

was obviously past dawn, but it looked as though it were going to be a

very grey day. She hoped it wouldn’t rain again while they were at

Diagon Alley. The ground was already soaked from the previous and more

rain would put her mother’s nerves on edge worse than they were at the

moment. The beginning of the school year always put the Weasley

household on edge. Well, except for her father, but not very much could

put him on edge.

The youngest Weasley decided it would be prudent to get up now

instead of lingering in bed, thus saving her mother from another

grief. She yawned again, and stretched and slid out of bed and into

a pair of very old bunny slippers a size and a half to large for her.

They had been Charlie’s once, but he had bequeathed them to her

along with his room as a going away present when he’d moved out.

She’d been very small then and had slept with the things instead of

actually wearing them. She’d cried a lot when Charlie had left, he

was probably her favorite brother, and he made sure to write her as

often as possible.

She sighed and shuffled over to her bureau and pulled open a drawer.

Usually the clothes were all neatly folded, muggle clothing mostly;

jeans and t-shirts while her ‘good’ clothing was all hung up in the

closet, her robes and the one or two skirts and dress shirts she owned.

But nearly all of that was packed for school now and she pulled out the

only outfit left, her least dingy pair of blue jeans and a grey and

blue striped shirt. She’d have to wear a cloak over them since she’d be

going out in public but that was okay. If she didn’t she’d just get

harassed by the likes of Malfoy and Zambini. Blaire Zambini was a

Slytherin in her year, his older brother Blaise was in Harry and Ron’s

year and was a member of Draco Malfoy’s gang.

Blaire was always making nasty comments about her and tripping her in

the hallway leading a group of Slytherins in their year. Ginny really

hoped that at the very least she wouldn’t run across him in Diagon Alley

today, since it was probably too much to ask that he had miraculously

transferred to another school or died over the summer.

She sighed and tugged her clothing on. She looked hopefully in the

mirror. She’d barely grown at all over the summer, and she was still

sure to be one of the smallest students in Gryffindor. She had more

freckles now too, and her skin was a shade darker, probably from all

the time she’d spent outside this summer gardening and reading and

the like. She was delicately built with small, slender limbs and she

was quite skinny and not at all filled out in the chest like some of

the girls in her year. Her facial features were soft like those of most

of her family and she had very large eyes, sometimes brown, sometimes

green that tended to get lost behind strands of her long, straight-as-a

-ruler golden-orange hair if she didn’t tie it back properly. The

entire effect, coupled with her often-times over-large clothing, made

her appear rather younger than she actually was.

“You look very nice dear,” her mirror said in a grandmotherly voice.

“But I can’t understand how you see behind all that hair.”

Ginny smiled half-heartedly and brushed a few strands out of her

face. She opened the wardrobe and took out the long black cloak that

hung on a peg. It was slightly frayed at the edges and part of the hem

on the left sleeve needed to be repaired but otherwise it was fine. She

draped it around her shoulders and fastened the clasp, a silver rose,

a birthday present from her grandmother. She was debating whether to

braid her hair or just let it hang loose when someone knocked on the

door.

“Coming,” she said hurriedly opening the door. It was her mother, who

looked relieved to see her up. “G’morning mum.”

“Oh, Ginny, good you’re already awake. Breakfast’s on the table.” She

then turned and hurried up the stairs, probably to wake Ron and Harry.

Ginny shook her head. Her mother always had a thousand things on her

mind and never enough time to do them. Ginny supposed she couldn’t

blame her with seven children, five of which still lived at home, plus

Harry now.

She hurried down the stairs to the kitchen where her father, Percy

and the twins were already seated.

“Good morning pumpkin,” her father smiled momentarily looking up from

his copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Morning Gin,” the twins said at the same time with identical grins.

“Good morning,” she replied to them, and put a few pieces of toast

with jam on her plate.

Now Percy looked up distractedly. “Oh, good morning.” He promptly

went back to doing whatever he was doing with his roll of parchment.

Ginny sighed and drank a little of her orange juice. Sometimes she

thought Percy must be on drugs or something, except he was too prissy

to take drugs. Prissy perfect Percy.

Their mother then came down the stairs with Harry and Ron in tow,

looking as though they’d been up all night.

“Mooooorning,” Ron said with a sleepy yawn as he and Harry sat down.

Fred and George exchanged grins.

“Sleep well you two?” Fred asked suggestively.

“Oh give it a rest,” Harry said. “It’s not any funnier OR less wrong

than it was at the beginning of the summer.”

“Oh really? Then what were those noises we heard last night.”

“We could ask you the same thing,” Harry shot back.

“Boys!” Mrs. Weasley warned.

“Sorry mum,” Fred apologized.

“Sorry Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said.

“It’s alright dear,” Mrs. Weasley said warmly to Harry while giving

the twins a stern look. “Are all of you ready to go to get your school

things after breakfast?”

There was a resounding chorus of yeses from everyone at the table,

except from Percy and their father who had gotten up and gone off to

work while Fred and Harry were arguing.

“Good then, just come into the living room when you’re finished

eating.” She bustled off to make last minute preparations.

They took floo powder like always and, unlike the first such trip

Harry had accompanied them on, in his second year and her first, she

noticed that he managed to end up as the same place as all of them. It

was a specially designated area in the post office for those who

couldn’t apperate.

Ginny tagged along behind the rest, listening to the bustle of witches

and wizards going about their business. Their first stop would be the

Apothecary, and then she knew they’d end up spending an hour or more

in the pet shop because Ron and Harry would ‘just want to look’, then

bookshop, Flourish and Blotts to get their new texts. After that was

the secondhand shop to get Ron more robes since he’d already outgrown

the ones from last year. Ginny wouldn’t be getting any though, since

there was no actually change in her size. Last years robes would have

to do. She sighed. She wouldn’t even be getting any dress robes for the

annual ball this year like the rest of her class since her mum had sent

her some last year when she’d managed to get invited by Neville.

Standing at the checkout line in Flourish and Blotts behind her

mother she decided that this was as good a time as any to ask.

“Mum,” she said. “You’re going to get Ron’s robes next, right?”

“Yes dear.”

“Well, I’ve got a little bit of pocket money I’ve been saving up and

I was wondering if I could go to Felicia’s Fabulous Fashions and then

meet you somewhere for lunch.” She wrung her hands nervously. Please

say yes, she prayed.

Her mother gave her a dubious look.

“Please mum? I’m fourteen, I’ll be really responsible, and really

really careful. I promise,” she looked up hopefully.

“Well, I suppose. But be careful. And don’t you dare go wandering

off. I’ll meet you in front of Fortescue’s in one hour. Hear me? One

hour,” she warned.

“I promise mum. Thank you,” she gave her mother a quick hug.

“You’re welcome dear.”

Ginny hurried out of the dusty bookstore and out into the street. In

the distance the grey sky rumbled with thunder.

 

---

 

part three

 

---

 

Madam Pomfrey had aperated them into a disused corner of Diagon

Alley. There was a blank wall behind them and no where to go but

forward. Coming from up ahead Peeves could hear excited noises and

masses of people, a harmony of discord like the castle right before the

Christmas holidays. He stared around them, amazed that he was somewhere

besides inside of Hogwarts. For once he couldn’t think of anything

either rude or witty to say.

“Come along then,” Madam Pomfrey said, looking at a list in her hand.

“We’ll get your robes first I think, before Melissa gets swamped by

other customers, then your books I think, then we’ll visit the

apothecary for your potions things, and we’ll save your wand for last.”

Peeves’ eyes lit up and he grinned rather manically. “I get a wand?”

“Dumbledore says you’re to be treated just like any other student,”

she replied with a hint of resignation.

“Knew old Alby’d be good for something!” he rubbed his hands

together.

Pomfrey frowned. “If you’re to be treated as a student you’d best

start acting like one. And that means treating people with respect.

Teachers, students and especially the head master. Or you’ll be

expelled just like any other student.”

Peeves bowed his head. “Yes’m,” he said, making a show of respect. He

didn’t see why though, after all, he’d known just about everyone who

taught there when they were students, and he knew for a fact that

‘Headmaster Dumbledore’ had, and most likely still slept with a

tattered old bear named Whiskers. Years ago Peeves had stolen the bear

on more than one occasion. But he didn’t mention this to Poppy, who’d

always been just as obsessed about manners, cleanliness and quiet as

she was now.

“Alright, let’s get this done,” she nodded.

Peeves followed her out into the main stretch of Diagon Alley. It was

filled with people, loads of them, all wearing different things and

going in and out of shops, large ones and small ones and in the middle

ones. It was horrendously noisy and hard to move without bumping into

anything. Looking up at the clouds Peeves realized that there wasn’t a

ceiling over head; that it was the actually sky and if it did what it

was threatening to and rained he would most likely get wet. In short it

was more amazing than anything Peeves had seen in a thousand years. He

felt Madam Pomfrey grab his hand and tow him along toward whatever shop

it was that they were going to, but he just kept staring around at

everything.

After a moment or two Pomfrey brought him into a shop called ‘Madam

Malkin’s’. Compared to the outside it was rather boring. It was

spotlessly clean and had a lot of mannequins wearing various types of

robes. There didn’t seem to be anyone else inside.

“Melissa, I have a customer for your,” Pomfrey called.

A woman of middling years and built rather similarly to the Hogwarts

school nurse came out from a back room. “Poppy? Is that you, I haven’t

seen you in ages!”

“It’s nice to see you too,” she said and told Peeves, “she’s my

cousin.”

“And who’s this?” Melissa asked, putting hands on her hips. “This

doesn’t look like a fist year.”

“He’s a… transfer student,” she said carefully. “Dumbledore put me

in charge of him.”

“Of course,” Malkin nodded. “Step up here please young man,” she

told him, gesturing to a pedestal. “Have you a name?”

“No,” he replied impudently, having not come up with one yet.

“Well that’s a shame,” she replied, refusing to be ruffled. “Lift

your arms please dear.” She tugged a black robe over him. “Now hold

them out like this if you will, that’s it.” She began placing little

pins in odd places of the robe and said to Madam Pomfrey. “So tell me

how you’ve been, mm, Poppy. You write me so little.”

“I’ve been busy, I’m afraid,” and then launched into an account of

what she’d been doing over the past several months.

After a few minutes Peeves began fidgeting. His arms were beginning to

feel heavy from holding them out like he was and he was growing tired

of listening to the two women chattering on and on. “This is boring,”

he said.

“Yes it is dear,” Madam Malkin said, putting another pin in. “Now

please stop fussing or it will become less boring when I accidentally

stick you with a pin.”

He pouted.

The bookshop wasn’t nearly as boring as the robe shop and Pomfrey had

had to almost forcibly pry him away from various books such as ‘101

Potentially Destructive Hexes’ and had had to apologize to

Mr. Flourish when he’d tried to smuggle it out under his cloak. Quite

distressed she’d scolded him for nearly fifteen minutes about stealing

and things a boy simply was and was not to do. He had to suppress a

yawn several times during the lecture. They’d gotten his texts though

and one or two of them actually seemed almost as interesting as the

hexes, Defense against the Dark Arts and Divinations most specifically.

The Apothecary wasn’t too entertaining; he’d seen most of the potions

ingredients before in the dungeons. And when he knocked over one of the

barrels of beetle eyes he managed to convince Madam Pomfrey that it had

been an accident, which was almost true. Some kid had made him stumble

and he’d kicked the barrel at him to get even.

They’d had lunch after that, ham sandwiches, which Peeves had quite

enjoyed and pumpkin juice, which he’d always wondered what it tasted

like. Now he knew.

“Well there’s only one last thing,” Madam Pomfrey said looking at her

mostly crossed off list. “And that’s your wand.”

“Oh goody-goody gumdrops! Yay for me!” he exclaimed exuberantly.

Pomfrey sighed. “Come along then.”

When they entered Ollivander’s it threatened to be just as boring as

the robe shop had been. But, Peeves reminded himself, this was where

he was going to get a wand. That certainly couldn’t be boring.

The man who greeted them looked so old he should have been dead six

times over. But he didn’t dodder and seemed to be in perfect health

other than probably being nearly as old as his shop.

“Ah, Poppy Pomfrey,” he rasped, “how lovely to see you again. Oak

and phoenix feather, ten inches yes?”

She nodded.

“And who’s this young fellow hmmm?” he peered down at Peeves.

“Aw, you don’t lisp any more,” Peeves remarked, disappointed.

“I say, how do you?” Ollivander was for once caught off guard.

Poppy sighed. “I suppose I can tell you Mr. Ollivander. There was

something of an accident last night at the castle. Peeves the

Poltergeist got turned into a human somehow.”

“My word is this really?” he peered again blink.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer,” Peeves said, annoyed, and tweaked

the old man’s nose.

Ollivander took a step backward and rubbed his nose. “Remarkable.

Truly remarkable. I expect Dumbledore wants him to attend classed?”

Pomfrey nodded. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Well then I suppose we’d best try and find a wand for you hadn’t we?

Dumbledore must know what he’s doing after all. Now let’s see, let’s

see. You’d be left handed I’d guess wouldn’t you?” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Peeves sneered as the man doddered around the room gathering

up a few boxes and setting them down on the table.

“Let’s try this, then. Holly and dragon heartstring nine inches,

very good at charms,” he handed it to Peeves but took it back a second

later.

“Hey!” he protested.

“No no, that’s not it. Hmm, perhaps this one. Pine and unicorn hair,

nice for counter jinxes twelve inches.”

But again the wand was snatched back before Peeves had a chance to

properly wave it. Four or five more wands were handed to him in quick

succession and Ollivander deemed all of them wrong as well. Peeves was

getting quite annoyed.

“Hmm, you know I think I’ve got just the thing,” Ollivander said,

giving the ex-spook another long appraising look.

“Well then why didn’t you get it in the first place?” he demanded.

“Peeves!” Pomfrey scolded. “Be polite.”

“Quite alright, quite alright madam, all things in good time. I’ll

be back in just a moment.” Ollivander turned and hurried into the back

store room.

Peeves crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently until he

returned with a single wand box. “Lemonwood and dragon heartstring,

thirteen inches, good for curses and counter curses. I’ve had it for

ages and never found the right customer. Maybe it will agree with you,

Peeves.” His eyes twinkled as he opened the box and took the wand out.

Like Ollivander had said, it was just over a foot long; it was

quite slender, and had a faintly yellowish hue to it.

“Here,” the old man said, handing it to him delicately. “Give it a

good wave now.”

Peeves held it gently, liking the feel of the polished wood between

his fingers. With a grin and a flourish he swung it in an upwards arc

trailing bright red and violet sparkles that snapped and hissed like

firecrackers.

Peeves stared at the smoke as it settled in the air in the wake of

the magic he’d done. Magic, him. Imagine that. He grinned.

“I’d say that settles that,” Ollivander said, satisfied and somehow

amused.

After Madam Pomfrey paid for the wand and they had started down the

street Peeves thought of something.

“We have to go back to the castle now, don’t we?” he demanded. He did

not under any circumstances want to go back to the castle yet. There

was so much of Diagon Alley he hadn’t seen and he knew Pomfrey wouldn’t

let him explore the lot of it. If only he could go exploring himself.

“Well, no, actually,” she replied. “Dumbledore gave me a little bit

of extra money so could buy something you wanted that wasn’t on the

list. And before you ask, no there wasn’t enough for that book.”

The last bit rather disappointed him, but the rest pleasantly

surprised him. “Al- the Headmaster gave me money? Li’l ole me? Can I

see?”

“Well, I suppose,” she fished a fistful of sickles from her purse

and handed them to him.

Peeves grinned at the glittering silver pieces and shoved them in

his pocket. Then he suddenly stared open mouthed and horrified over

Madam Pomfrey’s left shoulder. “OH MY GOD WHAT’S THAT?!” he pointed.

Startled, the woman turned around to find out what it was.

Grinning like a mad man Peeves took off into the crowd and, after he

was sure he’d lost any pursuer, slowed to a leisurely pace. He strolled

along, looking for an interesting place to spend his money. After a

block or two of relatively dull looking shops he came one with all

manner of strange things in the window display. Decks of cards, a flag

with scull and crossbones, an oil lamp, a stuffed dragon, some jewelry,

a chesterfield sofa, a set of pencils, a bottle of wine, and some

things Peeves couldn’t readily identify. The sign above it all read

‘Marvelous Marvin’s Magical Mishmash’.

With a bright grin and the feeling that this shop would be anything

but boring he opened the door, a cheerful bell announcing him as he

entered. The store, which was a single large room, was so full of

displays of various types of knick-knacks, bric-a-brac and the like that

there was hardly any room to begin. Each item had a small white card

beneath it explaining just what was magical about it.

The first display to attract Peeves’ attention was a number of

different swords in a case near the door. He examined each one in turn.

The first one could barely be called sword, it was more of a dagger.

‘Sting’ the card said. ‘Glows blue in the presence of Goblins,

date and origin unknown.’ The next was much larger, almost as tall as

a person and very thick. ‘Ultima Weapon: said to be the Ultimate weapon,

it was discovered in the wreckage caused by a dark magic construct, also

called the Ultimate Weapon.’ The next one was a standard broadsword,

well crafted as far as Peeves could tell, with a golden hilt embossed

with three connected triangles. ‘The Master Sword: once wielded by the

Hero of Time, said to be a gift from the heavens.’ There was a

short sword, ‘Need: only a woman may wield this sword. The next sword was

another broadsword, this one however looking much, much older. ‘Narsil:

the sword that was broken. Discovered during the excavation of the

tomb of an unknown king.’ The last sword didn’t seem to be a sword at

all, just a strangely carven hilt with a hole where the blade should

have been. The card however explained the oddity. ‘Hikari no Ken (Sword

of Light): a blade of blue energy is summoned forth with the

incantation ‘Hikari-o’ (light come forth). A demon slaying blade.’

But the swords, strange as they were, soon lost Peeves’ interest as

there was no way he could afford them with the money he had on him.

Something told him Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let him keep one even if he

could. So he redirected his gaze on something else. Wandering around

the shop he discovered a weird deck of cards called ‘Clow Cards’, that

contained the power of some old magician, a magic paintbrush form Japan,

several shards from a shikon crystal,a statue of the dragon god Shendu

that demanded to be bought, in a very loud and gruff voice, a crystal

ball belonging to the Goblin King, and a thousand other random objects.

Peeves wandered over to a display of jewelry.

There was a tiara that supposedly belonged to the moon princess, a

spider pin once in the possession of a necromancer and medium named

Lydia, a ring of power that was supposed to belong to some ancient Dark

Lord, the ornate mask of a Japanese shugenja that made anything the

wearer say seem plausible, and a silver necklace; a thick chain with

a large crescent moon pendant. ‘Lunar Charm: be spelled to mirror the

phases of the moon. Handed down by a long line of werewolf hunters.’

Try as he might Peeves couldn’t take his eyes off the necklace. And

he could afford it too, with a little money left over. That settled it,

he would buy it.

He looked over at the counter where a youngish looking wizard, maybe

twenty-five or so, with brown hair and large glasses reading a very

heavy tome of a book.

“Oy!” Peeves called. “You Marvin?”

The wizard nodded. “Yes.”

“I wanna buy something in this case over here,” he gestured to the

necklace.

“Oh? Alright.” he marked his place in the book and hurried over, a set

of keys jangling in his hand. “What are you buying?” he asked as he

unlocked the case.

“The moon necklace,” Peeves told him.

“Ah, well I’m happy to tell you that one’s not a fake, unlike some of

the other bits and pieces I’ve got,” he gave a wry grin and gestured

around the shop. “The man who sold it to me really claimed to be a

were-wolf hunter and it really does change with the moon. See how it’s

a sliver right now? It’ll keep getting bigger until the full moon, then

it’ll get smaller until the new moon when it turns into a seven pointed

star. It’s only coated with silver though, the rest of it’s some other

metal, and it’s a simple enough charm it’s got on it so I can’t charge

you too much for it. Does eight sickles sound fair?” Marvin had a

pleasant and unassuming manner and Peeves was quite sure he’d met him

before.

It came to him as he was handing the shop keeper the eight silver

coins he’d counted out. “Marvin Fairbaine!” he exclaimed. “You got hit

buy a bludger in the stands at a Hufflepuff-Slytherin match in your

first year and refused to go to another game!” Peeves snorted and

chuckled.

Marvin noticeable paled. “Wha- How-do I know you? How do you know

that?” he demanded.

“Oh, hehe,” Peeves stopped and twiddled his thumbs. “I’m

clairvoyant?”

“Oh, um, okay.” Some of the shock had gone out of his face and was

being replaced by an embarrassed blush. “That’s really fascinating,

Divinations. Never was any good at it in school.”

“I know, Trelawny predicted your death six times, didn’t she?” he

was now thoroughly enjoying pretending to be a psychic.

“Would you… like a bag for this?” he asked nervously, obviously

attempting to get him to leave the shop.

“Nope, thanks Marvin,” he grabbed the pendant and fastened it around

his neck.

As he strolled out of the shop he realized that Madam Pomfrey would

eventually catch up to him and scold him for running off, so he’d best

make use of what time he had. Looking around the still crowded Alley

he spied Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. He’d never had ice cream

before of course, but the students at Hogwarts seemed to like it a lot

and he had four sickles left so he might as well try some.

He marched up to the counter. “I’d like some ice cream.” He announced.

“Alright,” said the tubby, cheerful wizard behind the register.

“What flavor would you like?”

That stumped him. There were different flavors? “Um, I, don’t know.”

“Well, take you time,” the wizard smiled. “I’ve got five hundred

different kinds for you to choose from.”

He stared. Five hundred? How was he supposed to pick the best one?

Peeves had an idea. He turned around an surveyed the crowds of wizards

looking for someone who looked as though they knew their ice cream.

He spied a young looking girl with red hair and no obvious escort

carrying a pink shopping bag about to pass him. Abruptly he reached out

and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him.

“What’s the best kind of ice cream?” he demanded.

The girl blinked. “What?”

“Ice cream. Which one’s the best?”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know. Don’t you have a favorite?”

“No. I’ve never had it before.”

“You’ve never had ice cream? You must have awfully strict parents.

Um, could you let go of my wrist please?” She looked up at him a bit

confused.

He dropped her wrist. “Oh, no they just… don’t have ice cream where

I’m from.”

“They don’t? But I thought they had ice cream everywhere. Where on

Earth are you from?” the red head was looking more puzzled by the

moment.

“I’m from… Canada!” he said the first thing that jumped to his head

and sang, “Oh Canada, my home and native land!”

“They don’t have ice cream in Canada?” she stared in disbelief.

“Nope.” He shrugged. Peeves looked the girl over, red hair, skinny,

tatty robes. “Oh, you’re Ginny Weasley,” he recognized.

Now she looked even more bewildered. “How do you know that if you’re

from Canada?” she demanded suspiciously.

“I’m clairvoyant!” he explained again. “Really great at Divinations!”

“Oh really?” she crossed her arms. “Tell me my birthday then.”

Peeves thought a moment. “Well, I’m not good at that kind of stuff

but… c’mere,” he gestured.

She took a step closer and he leaned down and whispered to her.

“You’ve got a crush on Harry Potter and a pair of blue teddy-bear

undies that went missing last year.”

Ginny went scarlet. “But NOBODY knows that!”

He shrugged. “I told you.” Her crush was common knowledge around

Hogwarts, though she didn’t know it, and he’d been the one who’d stolen

her underwear.

“Well, alright then,” he blush was fading. “You know me now, but I

don’t know you. What’s your name?”

Peeves drew a blank. He cast his gaze around to latch his mind onto

something. “Hat! Er- Hatter. Jack Hatter,” he grinned and held out his

hand.

“Pleased to meet you, ” she reached out for a handshake but he pulled

away and beeped her nose instead. “Hey!”

He chuckled.

“Well, Jack, what’s Canada like?” she asked.

“Oh, wonderful, you’d like it. Lot’s of… cans.”

“Cans?”

“Yup.”

“But no ice cream.”

“No ice cream. That’s how it got it’s name you know, the cans. They

invented cans there, so, Canada. ‘Ada’ means ‘land of’ in Canadian,” he

told her, lying outrageously.

Ginny giggled. “Right well, I don’t know what other people think is

the best ice cream but I like peanut butter.”

He nodded very seriously. “Okay, I want two peanut butter ice creams,”

he told the fat wizard.

“Two?” Ginny asked. “But you don’t even know if you like it yet.”

The wizard handed Peeves tow large cones and he in turn handed one

to Ginny and paid his remaining four sickles.

“Oh, you didn’t have to but me any,” she protested, going scarlet

again.

“Yes I did. Madam Pomfrey told me to be polite, AND if I don’t like

the ice cream I can dump yours on your head,” he explained to her

truthfully.

Ginny however took it as a joke and giggled again. “Madam Pomfey?

From Hogwarts?”

He nodded. “Dumbledore made her take me to get school things since I

don’t have any parents.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are they dead?”

“No, they’re in Canada still. They work at a can factory.” He licked

the ice cream. “Hey, this is really good.”

“I’m glad you like it. What year will you be in?”

“Fourth,” he said through a mouthful of the ice cream.

“Oh, really? Me too. Maybe you’ll be in Gryffindor with me.”

“Maybe.” He nodded, but privately he didn’t really think so.

Ginny started to say something but stopped. “Oh, Jack, this is my

mother,” she said as a short, plump witch approached them.

But Peeves two saw an authority figure in the distance, Madam Pomfrey,

and he could tell she had seen him. There was no point in running off

now. Instead he just shrugged and walked toward her.

“Mum this is Ja-” Ginny began, but by the time she turned around he

was gone.

To be continued…

Oh, by the way, all the stuff in Marvin’s shop, in case you couldn’t

tell, is references to other works sch as Lord of the Rings, Final

Fantasy, Sailor Moon, Legend of Zelda, Slayers, Card Captor Sakura,

Inu Yasha, Jackie Chan Adventures, Mercedes Lackey, Beetlejuice

and Labyrinth. Needless to say I own none of these things. I made up

the necklace he bought though. Next chapter, Hogwarts!

Read it? Review it!