CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
✧
-: sixth year :-
── IN WHICH ERIN DESPAIRS
. . .
"It's a basic concept, Wood." Erin grit her teeth, knuckles turning white at just how tightly she was gripping the grey quill in her hands. "How can you not get a first year concept?"
"Listen, Tonks, tutors are supposed to be more encouraging or supportive about these sorts of things." Oliver retorted, his ears pink with flustered embarrassment. "Currently, you're not being either of those things."
"Well, I'm sorry." Erin replied stiffly, and for a moment Oliver thought she was actually being serious. "I'm sorry you have to live every day as a moronic fool who can't answer a question about a thing he is surrounded by!"
"I can't exactly see anyone in Slytherin making the time to have a conversation with the Bloody Baron, so how can you expect me to do the same with Nearly-Headless Nick?" The Gryffindor spluttered out, in complete disblief that she thought he would do that. "If I wanted to hear about the bloody Headless-Hunt then-"
Erin let out a groan, tilting forward and hitting her head on the table, quill discarded. "How can he do this to me? Just think of the extensions.. just think of the extensions." She muttered to herself several times, before slowly lifting her head, which was covered in hair glowing slightly red.
Oliver eyed the change in colour warily. As much as Erin was pissing him off with the reaction to his knowledge - or lack thereof - about ghosts, this really must be saying something. He took a deep breath, convinced that if he didn't he might just go crazy.
"What was the question again?" He asked, teeth gritted as he forced out the polite tone. He needed to make sure that stuck, so not to upset his tutor. There might be a disagreement of Erin's attitude, but she was the best in the entire school at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and as much as he hated to admit it, there was no way he could ever give that up.
No matter how much he hated her, or she hated him. He could work past that. And he would, so long as they stuck to the list of agreements they had drawn up at the beginning of the very first session.
Erin used a small pocket mirror to make sure that she hadn't smudged her makeup or hair was too messed up, before shutting it and turning towards Oliver, forcing a smile. "Why do wizards or witches who have died return to the world as a ghost?" She asked. "And I can't believe you haven't figured this out yet - Merlin." The girl added as an afterthought, leaning back in her chair and using a gap in the bookshelf to give some giggling second years who were yet able to go to Hogsmeade the most withering glare that she could manage.
They fell quiet.
"They return as a ghost.. a three dimensional, grey imprint of themselves because.." Oliver was stalling, reciting information that Erin had already drilled into him backat her to take up time. "Because they... because..."
Erin sighed, gripping her wand and pointing it on the page of the open textbook in front of him. The pages adjusted themselves accordingly, and Oliver leaned forward to read the tiny bit of font that Erin had changed her focus to.
"Because they have unfinished business." Oliver read out. Quite frankly, he was with Erin on this one - how could he have forgotten something that simple? "Whether that be fuelled by grief, regret, fear, attachment to the mortal world or guilt."
"Now repeat to me what you said about Sir Nicholas?" Erin raised an eyebrow, and Oliver slumped in his chair.
"That I didn't want to listen to him talk about the Headless Hunt." He repeated, shaking his head. "That's why he came back. Because he wants to join the Headless Hunt."
"But he can't." Erin shrugged.
"Because he's only nearly-headless." Oliver finished. "What about the other ghosts? Like the Bloody Baron or the Grey Lady or the Fat Friar?" He listed off the three other houses. "Or.. Peeves?"
"Peeves is a poltergist." Erin corrected. "He reportedly 'came with the building' when the founders were still establishing Hogwarts. It's believed he's a manifestation of all the mischief that students get up to. Because he can do it as well, like throw shit around or drop water balloons."
"Right." Oliver nodded. "And what about the others?"
"The Friar wanted to be made a cardinal. He was killed under suspicions of another churchman - the Friar had been curing people of Small Pox with magic, which in the eyes of a Muggle was just jabbing them with his wand." Erin recited from memory, surprising even herself that she remembered. "The Bloody Baron just sort of grunts and wails and drags those awful chains. He has something to do with the death of the Grey Lady and feels remorse for it. The Grey Lady was killed, she didn't just die."
"So the Baron murdered her?" Oliver looked genuinely interested now, sitting forward in his seat as he listened to the conspiracy.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Nobody knows but the both of them." Erin shrugged, glancing at him before wrinkling her nose. "And stop looking at me like that or else I'll start jabbing you with my wand and infect you with Small Pox."
"But isn't Small Pox deadly?" Oliver looked confused. "As in.. I'd die from it?"
"Even better."
✧
