The Ghost King at Hogwarts (Percy Jackson/Harry Potter)

Angel

Then, the door opened.

"That's a pretty sword," a voice said. "But it isn't the olden times anymore, and beheading your friends is usually quite frowned upon."

Luna Lovegood

The classroom wasn't empty today. 

I always come in at least twice a day, ever since I spotted lots of wrackspurts in there once, to make sure they don't pester anyone. Ginny always tells me not to bother. She says that it's only me who ever goes into that classroom anyway. But it's always good to check.

And this time it wasn't empty.

There were two boys inside, one who was on his feet, with dark, dark, dark eyes, and a dark, dark, dark sword (I couldn't decide which looked more deadly), and one who was on his knees with light, light, light hair, but the look on his face made me almost completely certain that his heart wasn't as light, light, light at all. And not because it was dark, no. It wasn't that kind of "not light". It was the kind of "not light" that means that a heart feels too heavy and oh-so-hard to carry. In fact, both of them look like something made both their hearts very, very difficult for their chests to hold. It's always very sad when that happens.

I was sure that someone must've told me who they were once. But I couldn't remember anymore. Maybe the wrackspurts did catch me after all. 

They looked like friends, I decided. 

I wondered if the dark haired one knew that you're not supposed to behead your friends. 

Not even if your sword matches your eyes. Even though the matchy-ness does make you look more put-together (but he won't be PUT-TOGETHER if you bring that sword down, Mr. Dark Eyes).

Not even if it's with the prettiest sword I've ever seen.

"That's a pretty sword," I said, more to the sword then to him, to make sure it knows it's being complimented, since I somehow doubted it got many compliments from its owner. Not that I thought it was Dark Eyes' fault. He looked like he was too busy drowning in all that dark-dark-dark to even think of doing such a thing, which really was a shame. 

"But it isn't the olden times anymore," I continued, looking up at him this time, "and beheading your friends is usually quite frowned upon."

I wasn't very sure if I'd said it aloud until the dark haired boy looked up at me, startled. He must've been very caught up in his would-be execution.

He snapped his fingers, and I didn't realize that there were shadows holding Light Hair down on his knees until they released him. Curiouser and curiouser. The shadows responded to Dark Eyes the way a pet responded to its owner. I wondered if shadows were any good as pets. Maybe I'd have to ask him someday.  

I didn't even notice that Dark Eyes had moved until he was right in front of me. Huh. I wondered how he'd gotten there. But then again, I was always not noticing things. Maybe he had just walked over while I'd been busy thinking.

Dark Eyes raised his hand, and I stared at it. His skin was deathly pale, even up close. A silver skull ring glinted on his middle finger. Behind him, Light Hair got to his feet shakily.

He snapped his fingers, and I wondered if the shadows were going to grab me. But then he spoke, and his voice sounded echoey and distorted.

"You didn't see anything," he told me. "When you opened the door, the room was empty, and you don't even remember why you wanted to come in. So you're going to walk back out, and carry on with the rest of your day as normal."