0o0

The corridors seemed oddly vacant to Harry. Even the Great Hall was already void of students and it was still relatively soon after the feast would have ended. He wondered whether his schoolmates had instinctively known not to linger outside their common rooms as they usually would. Perhaps Trelawney's forewarning hadn't been as dismissed as it had seemed.

He hoped his friends were all right.

Professor and student had mounted to the third floor in record time. Harry was glad he spent so much time practicing for Quidditch, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep up with Snape's pace, otherwise. The teen nearly stumbled as his head shot in the direction of some real or imagined sound. Never had he found moving through the castle so nerve-wracking. Even the portraits seemed unnerved, most were quiet, if not entirely vacant. Where had they gone, Harry wondered, and just where were the castle's ghosts? Surely, it had to be abnormal that the resident spooks seemed so absent on this night.

“Potter,” Snape addressed the boy a bit sharply. He was impatient with the Gryffindor's need to stop to observe his surroundings so frequently, though could not fault his diligence. Nevertheless, he was in a hurry to reach the Headmaster and hopefully put an end to the madness that had begun to take place in the castle before it got worse. Before Regulus' warning could come to fruition.

The man did not wish to admit, even to himself, that the dead man's words had struck fear in his heart. It was preposterous. His father had been dead for seventeen years. Furthermore, the man had been a muggle. There were no records of muggle spirits returning from beyond the Veil. Granted, maybe that was just because wizard kind had little reason to keep tract of such phenomena. Shaking his head to banish the thoughts, he opened his mouth to continue.

“Potter?” Another voice echoed, the sound seeming to reverberate around the corridor.

Harry shifted uneasily as his name was repeated by the strange voice. “Profes-” he began.

Spectral hands seized the boy by the shoulders, dragging him off with incredible speed as the Potions Master was hit in the chest by an invisible force. Potter disappeared into a room and for a brief moment the figure of a man stood in the doorway, staring at Snape in challenge. In the blink of an eye, the figure vanished and the door slammed with the resounding crack of wood against stone.

“Potter!” he shouted, closing in on the door and grabbing for the handle. The man gave a surprised hiss and yanked his hand away as he was burned – not by heat, but by a temperature well below freezing. Pounding a fist against the door, he shouted again. “Potter!”

“Now, now, Severus, old friend,” dulcet tones arose from behind him. “I wouldn't worry about the boy, if I were you.”

Snape spun around, eyes only confirming what his ears and the strong scent of lilacs had already told him. “Lyra.”

“So you do remember me.” Lyra Wilkes – for that was who the spirit was – gave an almost genial smile before a look of utter loathing spread across her pretty features as she took a step forward. “Perhaps you'll also remember how you betrayed our Lord!” the former death eater snarled.

He lifted his wand, the spirit banishing spell already on his lips, but Wilkes had disappeared from sight. Before he could properly react to this, a sharp pain caused him to cry out as his former cohort ground an elbow into the middle of his back.

0o0o0

Dark eyes peered down upon the place where shadows butted against a salt line like a physical barrier. A blond-haired boy and an older girl pointed their wands at him from the other side, standing in front of a crowded assortment of other youth. He sneered at them, daring them to act against him.

Finally, he turned to pass back through the wall which hid the entrance. He hadn't use for any of them. The boy was elsewhere.

0o0o0

Harry had let out a startled cry when fingers dug into his shoulders, yanking him backwards so quickly, he couldn't have used his feet even if he had managed to keep them under him. The teen gasped as he was thrown down to land on his left side, which was still sore from the mishap with the staircase earlier.

“James Potter,” an oily voice seemed to seep into his brain. “We meet again.”

Wait. James Potter? Green eyes blinked rapidly as Harry tried to process just what was going on. “I'm not James,” he said.

“And I'm a mindless idiot,” the man laughed, sounding genuinely amused. He proceeded to pace back and forth, his footsteps echoing more than they ought. In fact, his voice was still reverberating oddly, like it had in the corridor. His tone fell into a singsong that reminded Harry disturbingly of Peeves. “You got me killed, auror.”

“I told you, I'm not James Potter!” Harry repeated, feeling a thrill of terror shoot through him.

“SILENCE!” the man screeched, features distorting in his rage. “I will not listen to your pathetic lies! I had a good life before you tracked me down. A bit of riches, a bit of murder... What else could a man want? But you, you had to ruin it for me. You had to meddle in matters that did not concern you! What's it to you what I did to some stinking muggles? What right did you have to RUIN MY LIFE?!”

Harry had scrambled to his feet, pressing himself against the wall as the spirit advanced towards him. He was much larger than Harry, taller and more solidly built. The boy tried to swallow back his fear to no avail, protesting in vain, “I told you, that wasn't me – it was my dad!”

The spirit abruptly stilled, face inches from Harry's own as he studied the boy's features. At that distance, Harry see that the man's entire being seemed to be flickering ever-so-slightly, the visual equivalent to what was happening with his voice and footsteps. He couldn't help but wonder how the man died that it would so affect his spirit.

“Potter the younger, is it?” the tone was very soft. Too soft. A cruel smile pulled slowly across his bloodless lips. “And what makes you think that'll stop me from taking my revenge out on you?”

Harry hadn't, not really. He'd just... reacted. A knot of panic had settled firmly into the pit of his stomach. His hand tightened around his wand, but he couldn't recall the spell he'd heard Snape cast earlier and he wasn't so sure any of the spells he did know would even work against a spirit. He supposed he could try his Patronus, but the man was standing much too close for him to attempt such a thing.

Just as Harry had concluded that he had to do something, and fast, the spirit leaned in even closer, causing his breath to catch in his throat. “Run for me, little auror's son,” he whispered in a seductive tone. When Harry didn't immediately comply, the spirit sneered furiously. “RUN!”

Harry didn't need to be told a third time.

0o0o0

“You are not welcome here!” The girl, a ghost, informed him in a shrill, reproving voice, glaring at him from behind her glasses as he reached the second floor.

He inclined his head the slightest fraction, dark eyes flicking over her in apparent boredom. “Move,” he cautioned her, “before I move ya, myself.”

“I will not!” Myrtle exclaimed, indignant, as she glowered at the shadow-enshrouded spirit. Things like him weren't supposed to be in the school. It was an affront to her, and even though few appreciated her, she was determined to stand her ground. “You aren't allowed here. You'd better leave, or I'll tell the Headmaster.”

The spirit let out a scoff. “What'll he do? Wave a stick at me?” he drawled. “I don't have time fer this.”

In an instant, the distance between spirit and ghost had closed. Myrtle began to scream in agony until his hand clasped over her mouth. As he absorbed her essence, he gave a self-satisfied smirk.

“Shoulda moved when ye had the chance.”

0o0