DPASW: The Foundation of Power

Muggleborns, Ghosts, and Musical Chairs

Invisible, even from the gaze of death himself, Harry ghosted along a country lain of the Welsh village of Llangernyw like a... well, like a ghost. His apparition like movements mirrored his quarry, who floated, transparent and silvery, on the far side of a nearby chest-high dry stone wall. Her dress flowed down her sides like her hair, down over her slightly rounded tummy, rippling in imaginary winds, to hover a few feet above the wet, mossy, early November ground.

Harry's yew wand tingled along his arm, so close to its mother tree. The moon illuminated the graveyard, casting dark shadows among the tombstones, holes of darkness in a garden of twilight.

He'd been lucky to find time so quickly for this visit. His night-time schedule was usually packed weeks in advance and he didn't like the idea of treating Ginny's training as a time bank.

He floated over the low wall and touched down in the centre of the graveyard, right in front of the ancient yew tree, and right in front of Angelystor.

He coughed.

Angelystor perked up and looked around, obviously unable to see him.

He whipped the cloak off himself.

Angelystor widened her ethereal eyes. "Harry!"

He smiled. "Greetings again, my fair lady."

The dead young woman shot to within a foot of him and stopped, dead. "My, you've grown!" She circled him, inspecting every inch. "And, you've filled out too. You were so scrawny when I first saw you."

Harry grinned. "I'm glad to hear it."

"And you came to visit! Oh oh! The wand. Did you make it?"

Harry flicked his yew wand into his hand and held it up for inspection.

She floated around it from different angles like a fish. "...Beautiful."

"It takes one to know one."

Angelystor giggled. "Oh, stop that." She backed up a bit. "Still the charmer, I see. The girls must love you."

Harry lowered the wand and sat down, cross-legged, on the damp, mossy ground. "That would be nice, wouldn't it."

Angelystor giggled again. "In a few years, maybe?"

"Maybe."

"Or maybe you have a sweetheart now?"

Harry smiled. "I am friends with four, sort-of five girls."

"Four, sort-of five?" the transparent young woman did a small loop in the air. "Go on then, Harry. Tell me about them."

"Well,"—Harry made himself more comfortable—"first, there's Daphne. She's very pretty and loves the outdoors. She comes across as quite cold and distant, but she's actually quite friendly once you get to know her. Shy and surprisingly modest too, sometimes." He held up a hand and counted down on his fingers. "Then there's Hermione. She's also pretty, although she has problems believing it — loves to learn and has an intense drive to be the best at whatever she does."

"At Hogwarts? Ravenclaw or Slytherin?"

Harry smirked. "Slytherin, naturally." He counted off another finger. "Next is Ginny. She's..." He hesitated. "You know what? All of them are pretty."

Angelystor giggled, yet again.

"She's also fiery, passionate, and has a thirst to prove herself. I think that comes from having six older brothers."

"Six?" Angelystor goggled.

"Yeah, I know, right?" He shuddered. "Then there's Luna." He paused. How did one begin to describe Luna? "Luna is... pretty," he finished lamely.