Atropos → george weasley

x. knights and poltergeists

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ten

knights and poltergeists

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At first, Ottilie attempted to polish the knights' armor using magic, but it didn't go over well. She could levitate the cloth up to the metal, but couldn't quite get enough pressure for it to make any difference. It was more tiring than doing it by hand would've been anyway, so she gave up after a few minutes.

Over the course of the next hour and forty-five minutes, Ottilie alternated between polishing the suits and exploring. All of the trophies and shields were rather interesting to her.

At the center of the room, there was a high marble plinth with the House Cups and, on a lower level, Quidditch Cups from the last five years. All of the House Cups were silver with emerald bases, Slytherin written on their placards with Snape's name and the year below it. The sight made her grimace.

Last time she'd seen Slytherin's hourglass they were still a few points away from breaking even. If she'd actually participated in class, perhaps they'd be above water by now.

By the third suit, her arms were aching and heavy. She finally finished off the toe of its boot and groaned, leaning back to sit on the floor. The sallet seemed to tilt down and the boot lifted off the floor slightly, as though the suit wanted to admire Ottilie's work.

"If you guys can move, you're always welcome to follow me around as bodyguards. Like Malfoy has Crabbe and Goyle. Except my Crabbe and Goyle will have exoskeletons," Ottilie said, looking up into the empty helmets. The knights were directing their heads to her, as though actually listening.

She couldn't decide whether it was cool or creepy.

Slowly, the sallets lifted and rotated to the side as if now peering down the corridor. Frowning, Ottilie started to twist around to see what they were looking at when freezing water cascaded over her.

The cold shock caused her to gasp and throw her hands over her head. A high-pitched, coarse cackle erupted from somewhere above her and she opened her eyes just in time to see another wave doused over the armor, metal scraping as the suits drew back. Some of the water spattered on Ottilie and she scrambled to her feet, throwing back her head to see what was going on.

Still crowing, a small man with mischievous dark eyes, a wide, wicked smile, and dark hair was floating above her, cross-legged in the air. He wore an orange jester's hat and multi-colored robes. Unlike the other ghosts Ottilie had seen, he was entirely opaque. He was holding tin buckets upside-down, water still dripping onto the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Ottilie shrieked at the little man. She was soaked in muddy water and organic material, likely from the lake, coated her skin in a film. The suits she'd spent all that time cleaning were now dripping in silt and bits of algae.

"Ooooh!" the man cooed, grinning down at her. "Detention already? Tut, tut, naughty, naughty, are we? What's your name, ickle firstie?"

Ottilie's shoulders were still tensed after having water thrown over her head, her breathing still ragged. She glared at the...ghost, was he? She wasn't sure.

"Go away. I don't talk to ghosts," she muttered, scraping the dirt from her face.

The not-quite-ghost's eyes widened. He bellowed, "Peeves is no ghost!" and wound back his arm to hurl one of the buckets at Ottilie's head, the bells at the ends of his hat jingling. She screamed and covered her head to protect herself. She heard the sharp clang of metal hitting metal. The bucket crashed on the floor.