A Series of Unfortunate Ghosts

The First Unfortunate Ghost

The Slytherin common room was in the dungeons, deep below Hogwarts. Draco thought it quite fit his mood; dark, dreary, and isolated from the rest of the inhabitants of the castle. The room had been cleaned since Draco left that morning and a fire burned in the hearth. It was the only light in the room. Through the long windows, Draco could see the green waters of the Black Lake against the panes and the kelp swaying to and fro. Standing in the corner of the room, with his hands crossed over his chest, was a bronze statue of Salazar Slytherin, frowning at him.

"I'll have none of that from you," Draco called to the statue. "I've had enough judgement for one day, thank you very much."

The statue did not respond and Draco huffed at it before slumping down on the brown leather sofa. The leather squeaked under his weight. The sound was made louder by the empty, dreariness of the room. See, it was the kind of sofa that belonged in an office—uncomfortable and firm—not the kind one sits on after a long day to unwind. But it was all Draco had, so he made due by slouching down far enough to rest his head.

Now, it is a fact, dear reader, that there was nothing at all comforting—here "comforting" means "serving to alleviate grief or distress"—about the Slytherin common room, except the burning hearth. It is also a fact, that Draco had, in all his years at Hogwarts, never felt comforted anywhere with the exception of Harry's arms though he would never admit to that freely.

Let it also be known that Draco had been plagued by his thoughts on Harry Potter and his duty to the Dark Lord and his family, since he was old enough to understand those two things were diametrically opposed. And then tell me, dear reader, that it surprises you to find Draco sitting in the Slytherin common room staring at the statue of one of the founders of Hogwarts and wishing he was anyone else in the entire world so that he would not have to think one moment longer on the thoughts which plagued his waking and sleeping moments.

Struggling, as he was, Draco looked at the statue of his frowning founding father and swore he glanced in it Harry Potter's face where Slytherin's should have been. Hoping it to be a trick of the light, Draco blinked his eyes and cast a Lumos , but still when he looked at the statue, he saw the square jaw, slender nose, and unmistakable lightning shaped scar. It watched Draco with a curious look, as if trying to decide on something.

As Draco stared harder, he saw the wisps of Harry's hair blowing as if a breeze ran through the empty dungeon. Then as quickly as Harry's face appeared, Salazar Slytherin's returned and Draco was left, on the edge of his seat staring down a statue.

To say he was unaffected by the occurrence would be a lie, for while strange things happened in the castle all the time, that did not mean one grew apathetic towards the curiosity of such occurrences. It was more apt to say, Draco could not spare another thought on the curious nature of the statue, for the problem of the Vanishing Cabinet had his full attention once again, and so he blamed his odd vision on lack of sleep and guilt at standing Harry up.

"Merlin, I need some sleep," he said, forcefully, slamming his hands down on the dark wood table in front of the couch. The sound reverberated around him, echoing as if in a cavern. Every part of the dungeons seeming more empty as the sound filled it. Draco, unlike many people, was not so afraid of being alone, but once the echo died off, he paused a moment, feeling a particular dread spread through him.

The loneliness weighed on his mind, so before settling in his room, he walked around the Slytherin dorm to make sure nothing odd lurked in the shadows.

Casting another Lumos , Draco winded down the stairs to the rooms and peered inside. All was as it was left before the holiday break. No one hid in a corner, or behind a door. There was no sign of anyone in the bathrooms, the closets, nor under the beds. In his own room, things were as they should be—his trunk at the end of his bed, his desk with parchment spread out over it, the curtains around his bed, drawn.