Ballad of the Bloody Baron

The Baron has Opinions on Hogwarts' Feng Shui

There came a time in the Baron's death when he really couldn't go anywhere to escape hearing about that mop-headed bespeckled Potter boy. The corridors weren't safe, the bathrooms were a nightmare, and the common rooms were unbearable. He never risked the Great Hall during the daytime anymore, and if he had to hear one more rumor of that ridiculous boy he'd have to go to McGonagall. A ghost deserved some peace and quiet after such a tortuous existence.

Currently, the Baron was hiding out with Moaning Myrtle. True, her company wasn't exactly the most soothing, but he'd found that her constant lamenting was nice background noise. At least she didn't try to talk to him like Ripley did. That was definitely a perk.

He made another round of the lavatory and sighed. This place desperately needed some attention. The sinks were stained and grimy, and the floors were lacking a good polish. Regret filled him as he remembered he could hardly lift a feather; he certainly would not be able to restore the tiles to their former glory.

Abruptly, the Baron snorted to himself. Myrtle flinched at his outburst but quickly returned her attention to the toilet she was swimming in. The Baron bit back his grin. A few centuries ago, he would have never dreamed he would one day wistfully think of housecleaning. Oh, time. What a fascinating bastard.

With that sobering thought, the Baron floated to his feet and rattled his chains in a stretch.

"Farewell, Myrtle. Enjoy the faucets."

Myrtle gurgled a somber reply from the pipes and the Baron ushered himself out of the second-floor bathroom. He curiously eyed the walls as he passed down the empty hallways. Moonlight filtered through the windows, casting the floor in shadows, but even so, something was odd about the school he knew so well. He squinted at the walls again.

Ah! That was it–there were new decorations beside the tapestries. He frowned. It was quite odd considering the castle had refused to remodel for centuries. He leaned forward to read.

PROCLAMATION

Educational Decree: No. 1

Any student found in possession of a spell-check

charmed quill will be severely punished.

Signed: Dolores Umbridge, Hogwarts High Inquisitor

The Baron lifted a brow disdainfully. If this was meant to be some modern form of art, he was not impressed. And if, by chance, this proclamation was serious...well, it was entirely laughable. To seriously expect students to abide by this flimsy bit of framed parchment–ha!--they'd clearly never met a teenager. Even the Bloody Baron knew that. It wasn't as if anyone would take the threat of 'severe punishment' seriously, after all. This was Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake. The current Headmaster would never allow any punishment more severe than a light detention.

The Baron shook his head and continued down the corridor. Ridiculous. It didn't deserve any more of his attention.

When he reached the first floor, he saw yet another framed proclamation on the wall. Irritation spiked. Really? Was one posting not enough? He meant to pass by but then something caught his eye. He slowed to read this one and was astonished to realize it was completely different.

PROCLAMATION

Educational Decree: No. 9

Any student found in possession of sweets from

unauthorized suppliers will be expelled.

Signed: Dolores Umbridge, Hogwarts High Inquisitor

The Baron's eyes widened in what was surely a comical expression, and he couldn't help but gape at the proclamation. Hogwarts was many things, but it had never been this absurd. He huffed in disbelief. This time as he moved on, he quickened his pace. He was determined to track down every bloody proclamation in this castle, even if it took the rest of his existence.