Title: Curious Coincidences and Odd Associations
Category: Books » Harry Potter
Language: English, Rating: Rated: K+
Published: 02-13-03, Updated: 04-10-03
Chapters: 2, Words: 12,832
A/N: Well, I decided to write it. The first fanfic to have Peeves as
the main character. It’s also got Ginny as its other main character,
and you’ll see how that works out. Both of them are indeed in this
first chapter, although not in the same setting. They’ll be meeting
later. Let’s see, story notes. It’s rated PG just to be
safe, I don’t think there’s anything terribly inappropriate in it, and
yes it really is humor/angst. Is that a first too? The story just sort
of came to me one evening and who am I to defy inspiration? (Even if it
does mean putting my other fic on the back burner for a little while)
I’m not sure that there are going to be a very large number of you
reading this since it’s not, ya know, something that most people would
think of reading, so if you are and you want to be supportive, please
review. I’m going to write this whether I get review or not, but
getting them makes it more likely that I will update more than once a
If you’re reading this because like me, you’re a Ginny fan, stick with
me, she is in the chapter like I said just a few pages in. Now READ
READ I TELL YE!
Disclaimer: …Now I know you know JK Rowling owns the HP universe, and
if you think I’m her that’s just silly. She wouldn’t be writing this,
she needs to get busy writing the rest of the series so she can start
on the prequel with the Marauders.
Curious Coincidences and Odd Associations
Chapter one…Tales Begin in the Mists of Time
The bookcase crashed to the ground with a satisfying ‘thunk’ spilling
books across the floor. Somewhere on the grounds Madam Pince snorted
and tossed in her sleep, preternatural library senses somehow aware of
the incident. The red-headed entity dusted his hands together in a
contented fashion and hastily made his exit, the yowl of an aged cat
Peeves giggled darkly to himself, drifting through the midnight
environs of the corridor, the ranting and raving of Filch clearly
audible to the poltergeist. Not for kiddies, the caretaker’s words,
no, no, much too harsh for innocent ears. Good thing all the little
tots were still away for the summer, wasn’t it? He chuckled. Such a
delight, the angry tone, so gratifying. Momentarily at least. But
elation faded to vague amusement and finally back to tedium.
There wasn’t a lot for him to do right now, not even all the teachers
were there yet. The year wouldn’t start for another, what was it, day?
Two maybe? A week? He was always terrible at measuring time, and far be
it for anybody to give him the day of the week, oh no. He snorted.
Time, time, time. All he ever HAD was time! Whenever he was bored it
seemed to stretch on forever, but when he was doing something
interesting it had to vanish like a very quickly vanishing thing,
didn’t it? It was so frustrating, and tonight he was even more restless
He pouted and crossed his arms. Stupid summer holidays. Peeves bit
his lip, a human mannerism he’d picked up some when along the way. He
leaned against the wall and sunk down through the floor to the drafty,
disused premises of the lower dungeons. Bored, bored, bored, bored,
bored, bored, BORED!
The lower dungeons played homes to most of the castles ghosts and
Peeves was as welcome there as he was in any part of the castle. Which
was to say, about as welcome as grave robbers or some nasty form of
mold. But it was the only place to find anyone conscious to talk to,
or more likely at, at this time of night and this season, unless he
felt like visiting Myrtle in the girl’s toilet. Which he didn’t.
“Nicky,” he called in what failed miserably at being a pleasant and
genial tone. “Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick, Nicky!”
The spirit of Sir Nicholas De Mimsey Porpington did not appear.
Unsurprising to say the least, as most people, living or dead, tended
to avoid him like the plague and with about the same degree of
efficiency. He was somewhat offended by the fact, at least, when he
didn’t find it funny.
“Keep it down!” someone snapped, “SOME of us are BUSY, I’ll have you
Peeves poked his head through the wall to see Edmund still hard at
work, sitting at his vaporous desk, scribbling on a ghostly scroll with
an equally insubstantial quill.
“Oh?” he grinned, raising an eyebrow in mock interest. “Whatcha
The scribe grimaced. “None of your business! Now go away!” He held
his paper to him like some dear treasure.
The delinquent of a spirit took on a hurt expression. “Not that’s
mean, Eddikins, I just wanted to read it. Why won’t you let me?” He
grinned wickedly. “Ooooooo, I know. It’s a LOVE letter ISN’T it?”
“NO!” The ghost blushed.
“It IS! I knew it! I’ll go tell Lila you’re writing poetry about her
again!” He turned as if to leave.
“Don’t you dare Peeves! I’ll, I’ll, I’ll get the Baron!” Edmund
He froze. “Heheh, only joking, wouldn’t dream of embarrassing Eddy,
would we? Of course we wouldn’t! I’ll just be going now,” he said
quickly, alternately nodding and shaking his head for emphasis.
“You do that,” Edmund said stoically.
“Bye,” Peeves waved nervously, turned around and left, going back
into the main corridor. “Stupid self-centered writer jerk. Tattletale.
‘I’ll tell the Baron on you’,” he mocked in a high-pitched, insulted
tone and then fell to muttering. “Tell on Peeves; spoil his fun,
that’s right. Nobody cares how I might feel on the issue, do they?
Nobody ever thinks about MY feelings. Hmph.”
He drifted through the hallway for quite a way and up the stairs into
the main dungeon, where most of the year there would have been little
sharp-eyed students about. Not many at this hour, but still, he might
have had a bit of fun intruding on illicit couples snogging in corners.
He floated up another set of stairs and paused to pull down a
Ravenclaw tapestry for no other reason than he never much cared for
Ravenclaws. Stuffy gits.
With nothing better to do at the moment he slipped into the kitchens
which were, for a rare moment, abandoned. It must be very late/early
indeed if the little house elves weren’t hard at work cooking and
telling him to get out. He drummed his fingers on a counter and rested
his chin on his other hand. This had to be, for no discernable reason,
the absolute nastiest day he’d had in a while. There was nothing to do
and no one would talk to him and there was no one to follow around and
bother and he just generally wasn’t feeling his pleasantest.
Peeves looked out of the corner of his eye, his gaze coming to rest
on the handle of a pan. A sneer twisting his colorless lips he grabbed
the pan and threw it full force into a rack of dishes. The noise it
made was wonderful, just the right amount of smash and tinkle as the
delicate china was separated forcefully into a million pieces. Grinning
manically he hefted a pot up off the stove and threw it at the other
pots hanging from the ceiling. Not only did they bonk and tong together
like some blasphemous sort of wind chime but a good number of them fell
to the floor in a great cacophony of a racket.
Peeves cackled and dove around the room picking up and tossing every
object that his hands fell on. By now he heard yelling and heavy
footfalls coming towards him. He didn’t care.
The door swung open. “PEEVES!” Filch shouted.
The poltergeist turned around and blew a raspberry at him.
The caretaker did something that Peeves had never seen him do before.
He whipped out a wand, pointed it, and yelled in a very gravelly voice,
There was a bang and a flash of sickly pink light and-
Peeves was lying on his back with his eyes closed. He realized he
must have been knocked unconscious. It had happened once before during
the middle ages when a particularly irate seventh year Slytherin had
hexed him. That time was different than this in one rather large
respect, that time he’d woken up with no ill effects whatsoever, just a
little bit of missing time and a grudge. Now however there was a very
unpleasant sensation running all through him, especially in the area of
his head. If he didn’t know better he would have said it was pain.
But that was silly. He couldn’t feel pain, after all.
He didn’t feel up to opening his eyes at the moment, but he realized
he heard voices, Filch and old Al Dumbledore.
“I didn’t mean to, Dumbledore, sir,” Filch was saying, in an
incredibly humble and penitent tone. “He was wrecking the kitchens
again and since I’d been studying, and all, I thought I could give him
what for, if you take my meaning. I was only trying to hex him, you
Talking about him were they, hmmmm? He’d listen a bit longer.
“Yes, yes Argus, I understand your feelings,” the Headmaster
answered. “You had every right to be upset but that does not change the
fact that whatever your intentions were the outcome has been both
unexpected and quite serious.”
“I know sir, but isn’t there some way to, to well…”
“Change him back?” He paused and said very gravely. “I do not know.
On top of that- Argus, what you have done is a very complex, and
profound piece of magic. Most respectable wizards would tell you what
you did was completely impossible, even theoretically.”
Oh no, what had Filch done to him? Now that they mentioned it, he did
feel very strange, and not just the unpleasantness. He felt very heavy
and there was a very odd pulsing sensation he felt. Peeves came to the
conclusion that what he needed to do first was open his eyes.
“Besides,” Albus continued, “have you considered that he may not want
the transformation undone?”
What WERE they talking about? He had to know! He forced his eyes open
and found that he was lying on a cot in the hospital wing with the
curtain drawn around him. He could see the shapes of old Alby and Filch
standing just outside.
Uncomfortably he raised a hand to pull away the curtain and stopped.
He stared, his gaze panning slowly from the tips of his fingers, to his
knuckles, to his hand, wrist, and arm. The amazing thing was that he
was actually looking AT his arm, and not through it. It was pale,
almost white, with dots of orange freckles here and there. At first it
didn’t quite register to Peeves that this was his own arm. He wiggled
his fingers, just to be sure.
“Yeeeeaaaaaah!” he wailed, terrified, “Look what you’ve done to my
beautiful wickedness!” He drew his arms close around himself
Dumbledore gently pulled open the curtain and looked down at him,
eyes concerned behind half-moon spectacles. Filch was lingering in the
background looking very, very awkward.
“Peeves,” the Headmaster said cautiously.
The ex-poltergeist continued to wail both incoherently and very
“Peeves!” Dumbledore said much more firmly in a tone that brooked no
The figure immediately stopped howling and looked darkly up at the
old man. Peeves was trembling violently. “Whasee done to me? Wha’s
Filchy done this time?” he demanded.
Dumbledore sat down on the edge of the bed. He fixed the cowering
form with a very serious, but very kindly gaze. “I think you already
know the answer to that.”
Peeves looked up at him. Then he looked at Filch, who looked away.
Then he closed his eyes. “Turned me into a human, didninee?”
“Yes, that is what happened,” he agreed.
Someone hurried into the room. “What happened; who’s hurt?” It was
Madam Pomfrey and she sounded very upset and worried. “I heard someone
yelling. Who is that?”
“Please calm yourself Poppy. There has been a small accident,”
Dumbledore told her. “I will gladly explain, but I would be most
grateful if you would care to fetch us all something to eat, and
perhaps to drink as well, beforehand.”
“Of course Albus,” she agreed and bustled out of the room.
Filch had started pacing the room anxiously.
“Sit down Argus,” the Headmaster instructed, “It is not the end of
“Yes it is!” Peeves disagreed.
“No, it is not,” Dumbledore said, giving him a look. “And I don’t
believe that you will think so either after you become accustomed to
He turned over on his side. “Hmph, bet he did it on purpose.
Everybody knows he hates me. Wants to get rid of me he does.”
Madam Pomfrey reentered the room carrying a tray with four mugs of
hot chocolate and pastries. “Here we are, Albus,” she said, setting the
tray down. “Now, who is this young man? I didn’t know there were any
students arriving early this ear. I’ve never seen him before, is he a
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” The Headmaster picked up one of the
mugs and handed it to Peeves.
“Well, what happened? He looks alright to me,” the nurse said,
looking him over with a keen eye.
“Less than an hour ago,” Dumbledore said, “Argus here heard quite a
commotion. Going to investigate he found Peeves making something of a
mess of the kitchens. Master Filch then attempted a hex to deter him.
This however, did not work as planned…”
Madam Pomfrey frowned. “Headmaster, surely you don’t mean to tell me
Dumbledore smiled. “Poppy, may I introduce you to Peeves the
The red-head wasn’t really paying attention; he was still busy trying
to figure out what Dumbledore wanted him to do with the cocoa.
“But, how?” Pomfrey asked, sitting down.
“I am not certain. Nor am I certain of the permanence of the
transformation. It is entirely possible that the spell may wear off
after some time.” Dumbledore took a drink of his own hot chocolate and
then turned to Peeves. “I suggest you drink that some time soon. It’s
not quite as pleasant after it gets cold.”
Drink it? he furrowed his brow. He’d seen people eat and drink before
but he had of course, never been able to do it. Wouldn’t the ghosts be
jealous if he could! Gingerly he brought the cup to his lips and tipped
the liquid into his mouth.
The sensation was unbelievable. He could actually TASTE it, warm and
rich and smooth. Greedily he filled his mouth with it.
Dumbledore smiled. “I think you’d best swallow before long.”
Swallow? Oh of course, swallow. Otherwise he’d choke, wouldn’t he? He
swallowed, finding the sensation of the liquid draining down his body
odd but not unpleasant, and drank some more. Peeves was sure that
drinking hot chocolate was the reason people seemed to enjoy being
alive so much.
“What are you going to do with him in the meantime then, Albus?”
Poppy asked curiously, still watching the former spirit.
Dumbledore too now looked him over with a wide smile. “Oh, I don’t
know, I’d say he looks about a fourth year, wouldn’t you Argus?”
“Er, what, sir? You don’t mean you’re going to put him with the
students do you? Why, I have enough trouble already with those
Weasleys, I shudder to think-“
“It seems to me,” Dumbledore said, “rather than a bad influence on
the students, they might be just as much of a good influence on him,
“…I suppose,” Filch muttered, not really convinced.
Peeves smirked and stuck his tongue out at the defeated caretaker.
Then he looked disappointedly down at the mug to realize that all the
chocolate was gone. He pursed his lips crossly and was about to say
“Why don’t you try a pastry,” Dumbledore suggested, handing him one.
He took it with out the hesitation of before and bit into it. Yes,
eating was good too. “S’not bad,” he said.
“I thought you’d like it,” the Headmaster agreed. “You’re welcome.”
Peeves completely missed his cue to say ‘thank you’.
“If you’re not too busy tomorrow Poppy I would like for you to take
him to Diagon Alley to get his school things.”
She hesitated. “Ah, of course Albus, but, what will you do if the
change was permanent? I mean he doesn’t have any where to go or well…”
Dumbledore gave her a confident smile. “I have a feeling things will
work themselves out. But,” he turned to Peeves, “While I am going to
inform the staff of this situation it might be a good idea if you
thought of something to call yourself, at least for a while. The truth
of the matter might serve only to alienate others.”
“I’ll think on it,” he answered through his last mouthful of pastry.
Now,” the Headmaster stood up. “I suggest we all get some rest
before tomorrow sneaks up on the lot of us.”
Ginny stared out the window at the pouring rain. School started in
just two days and, while she was happy to be starting her fourth year
at Hogwarts she definitely had a bit of end of summer melancholy. She’d
be seeing all her school friends, yes, but she didn’t have very many.
Her entire first year had been ruined by the whole stupid diary
incident and people were right when they said first impressions lasted.
As if she didn’t feel bad enough about the experience people had never
gotten over seeing her as weird and withdrawn if not downright
antisocial. It wasn’t that they were unfriendly exactly, Gryffindors
almost never were, but they seemed hesitant to get as close to her as
Well, Colin Creevy seemed to like her well enough, but she wasn’t
all that fond of him. He just wasn’t well, the sharpest cookie. And
anyway, all he ever wanted to talk about was Harry, who despite being
her brother’s best friend, never seemed to want to talk to her.
That thought made her even more distressed. He’d been living with
them in Ron’s room practically all summer and he’d still barely said
five words to her. She was beginning to think that maybe he really was
a jerk. After all, those magazine articles couldn’t have been
completely made up, could they?
Ginny sighed. Thinking about Harry always made her alternately want
to blush and swoon or scream and throw pillows. Not that she would,
she was too old for temper tantrums, and she’d never been very good at
them when she was younger anyway. She’d always somehow just ended up in
She needed something else to think about before she did end up in
tears. School was of course the main topic of the day, the week really.
Fred and George would be in there last year. Next year it would be just
her and Ron. She wondered who the new Defense against the Dark Arts
teacher would be. She thought it was kind of funny the way they never
had one for more than a year, even though it was always a bad thing
when they left. She wished Professor Lupin could have stayed, but no,
grouchy old Snape had to go and tell everybody he was a werewolf. She
thought she remembered one of the twins telling her they heard it would
be a girl this year but they were too busy with that money Harry had
given them to talk to her much.
And Percy was as busy as her father at the ministry now, and Ron was
always busy with Harry, so busy Ginny almost half-believed the jokes
that Fred and George made all the time. Sometimes Ginny felt like she
got lost among her brothers and she was past the age where her parents
paid more attention to her just because she was the youngest. True, her
mum had said she could invite someone over for the summer if she wanted,
but she hadn’t been able to think of anyone she wanted to see that
badly and for that long.
She sighed and closed her curtains; the rain wasn’t doing anything to
improve her mood. Sometimes she wished she didn’t have Charlie’s old
room all too herself. It was funny how lonely one could get with such a
She stood up, only to sit down again, this time at her little desk
and took out a sheet of parchment and a quill. She’d finished all her
over the holidays work, she didn’t leave it to last minute like Fred
and George, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have anything to write.
While she hadn’t actually kept a diary for years (bad memories) she
couldn’t help writing stray thoughts on bits of parchment. She kept
those all dated and in a drawer and she thought maybe one day she’d bind
them all together and make a book out of them.
Ginny ran her fingers anxiously through her goldish orange hair. It
was long now; she hadn’t cut it in a while, halfway down her back. She
liked to have her mother braid it for her, or, more often now days
she’d do it herself. Right now however it was hanging loose over her
shoulders and falling in her face over her brown eyes. She’d thought
about using magic to change the color, just to make her stand out from
the rest of her family but not only would she probably get one of those
stupid ‘underage magic’ letters but her mum would scold her and just
turn it back.
She dipped her quill in the bottle of purple ink she’d bought by
saving up the little bit of pocket money and started writing.
I never thought I’d be so happy to be going back to school. It’s
maddening around here, with Ron and Harry holed up in their room and
Fred and George holed up in theirs and Percy at the ministry with Dad,
pretending that the whole world hangs in the balance every time he
files some stupid bit of paperwork. Mum’s practically been having a
continuous panic attack since the beginning of summer. I can understand
because they’re saying that you-know-who is back.
That scares me too. What if he comes back and tries to use me again?
I know Dumbledore said the connection was broken but what if he was
What If I’m a tainted flower
With stained petals
No one will pick
I talked to Dad about it this morning, he told me not to worry about
it too much but he seemed pretty worried. Then Percy walked in and said
‘of course I didn’t need to be worried; nothing was going to happen to
us’. He was LISTENING in on my conversation with Dad! Sometimes I don’t
know about Percy, he’s been acting really funny for the last year or so.
Sometimes I think he doesn’t believe YKW is back, and sometimes I think
he just might not care. I know it’s a horrible thing to think but…
Mum’s taking us all (Me, Ron, Harry, F+G) to Diagon Alley tomorrow to
get new (well, you know what I mean) school things. I have a little bit
of the money I’ve been saving. I think it’s enough to but one of those
cute imported muggle shirts from Felicia’s Fabulous Fashions. They
don’t cost too much because they’re made from such cheap fabric.
(And so little of it too. I’d have to hide it from mum.)
I heard the pantry open last night and I went down to look but nobody
was there. I think Fred and George might be experimenting with
invisibility or something. Don’t know why they’d want to though, it
feels like I’m invisible every day and it isn’t much fun.
I was looking at my divinations book earlier (I decided to take it
this year just because Ron said he hated it. I can always drop it)
We’re going to be using Tarot cards and it says we’ll get the best
results if we have our own deck. Maybe I ought to buy one instead of
the shirt since mum’ll only take that away if she finds it. But then
again if I don’t like Divinations it’ll just be a waste of money. Ron
always says he hates being poor but that’s just because he always buys
the first thing he looks at instead of thinking about what he wants
more. If he didn’t complain about it all the time maybe the Slytherins
wouldn’t harass him about it so much. Talk about opening yourself up to
mockery. I think Ron just likes to complain about things. At least
Harry actually talks to him.
He’s not even that cute anyway (Harry, not Ron, I don’t mean Ron’s
cute either, but oh never mind) I don’t know why I like him so much
anyway, just because he’s so heroic I guess. I don’t know. Can you like
someone for no good reason? Must be, because I can’t think of any
terribly good reasons.
It’s pouring out; it’ll be all mushy outside tomorrow. Oops, I mean
today. I just checked the clock and its a few minutes past midnight.
Mum’d probably hang me if she bothered to check if I was up or not.
She never does though. And anyway, I’m almost fourteen aren’t I? They
ought to let me stay up a little bit. I’m not the least bit tired.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t really done anything all day, and I got
up late. I watched the boys play two on two Quidditch for a little
while, and Fred let me sub for him for a few minutes, but I’m not very
good at it anyway. It’s okay to watch though, if I don’t have anything
better to do. Colin said he was going to try out for the team this
year. I wonder if he’ll make it. I wonder if he’ll even remember to try
out. He might have gotten on to a different kick by now. No, scratch
that, he’ll remember because Harry’s on the team. Come to think of it,
Ron wants to try out too, for keeper.
No one else agrees
But I think Quidditch’s boring
I’d rather not play
That’s a haiku, a kind of Japanese poetry. Percy talked about them a
few days ago at dinner, but he was mostly talking about this one
Japanese wizard he admires who writes them all the time. Percy was
saying something about how hard the Japanese work all the time. I read
in Teen Witch magazine that young Japanese witches kill themselves if
they don’t get all hundreds in their classes. That’s a bit obsessive if
you ask me. I can picture Percy doing it though, if he’d ever failed
anything in school. Maybe Hermione too.
Speaking of school, I can’t believe I made it all the way to fourth
year. I don’t mean that I thought I was going to flunk out or anything,
but it’s so weird, like just yesterday I was only in first year. And
that’ not a very happy thought. It almost feels like my life is
slipping away from me like sand and the days just blur together. It’s
been like that for a while. Sometimes I think that maybe I was supposed
to die that night in The Chamber and my life feels empty because I’m
just living on borrowed time. I wonder if destiny can be cheated like
that. If anyone could do it, it would be Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry, I
try but I can’t stop myself from thinking about him all the time.
It’s almost like life revolves around him. Not just my life, but
everybody’s life, that we’re all defined by how we know Harry. Is it
always that way with powerful wizards? Maybe Dumbledore’s classmates
felt that way too. Harry and Dumbledore seem a lot alike to me, I
wonder if anybody else notices. Like Dumbledore’s a really, really old
Harry. Maybe he is an older Harry. Maybe sometime in the future Harry
travels back in time to whenever Dumbledore was born and stayed there.
Maybe that’s how Dumbledore seems to know everything. Impossible most
likely, but it’d be funny if it was true. I wonder what it would be
like, meeting your younger self and pretending to be somebody else.
I know if I could go back and meet my younger self I’d have some
advice to give her. Hello, Ginny, this is Ginny. Don’t be an idiot.
Maybe I should take my own advice.
Maybe I ought to go to bed. Mum will get me up early to go to Diagon
Alley anyway, and if I’m all tired she’ll suspect something. Or make me
take some nasty potion. Or both. Well, here are a couple more pages for
the drawer of paper.
Ginny yawned and wiggled her fingers to un-cramp them. She put the
cap back on her ink bottle and shoved it, the quill and the paper in
her desk drawer. Quietly she pushed in her chair, turned around and sat
down on her bed.
She pulled down her covers and already in her pajamas, slid under
them. She reached up and blew out the candles that lit her room,
sending it into darkness. She yawned again and closed her eyes. Would
anything interesting happen this year? Well, the answer to that was
obvious. The better question was ‘would anything interesting happen to
HER?’ Another good one was did she really want it to. After all, the
last time something interesting had happened that involved her she’d
nearly died. At this point though she almost wished that ANYTHING at
all would happen to her just to stop the monotony of being the
invisible youngest Weasley.
To be continued…
Wow, you read the entire chapter, I’m impressed. (It was very long,
wasn’t it?) Next chapter, both Ginny and Peeves go to Diagon Alley.
Will they meet? What do you think? Input, constructive criticism,
ideas, praise, anything you want to say is welcome. Not flames though,
flames make me sad.
Read it? Review it!
Chapter 2: Chapter two
A/N: Hey, thanks very much to everyone for reviewing. I’m so glad
somebody likes this. Sorry it took so long to write but I’ve been in a
slump recently, life’s been hectic and I have another story that
unfortunately takes precedence over this one. I forgot to mention last
chapter that my short story ‘The Art of Destruction’ doubles as the
prologue for this story. So go read it. Sorry if it inconveniences
Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to Harry Potter I’d be writing this
while sipping umbrella drinks in the Bahamas, not in my room gnawing
on a stale donut.
Chapter two…Morning Has Broken
Peeves might have slept a lot longer if he hadn’t fallen out of the
bed. As it was he woke with a jolt and a snort, tangled somehow in both
the bed sheets and the curtains. He looked around startled, quite
unsure of where he was.
“Whowhashwhere?” he demanded incoherently, trying only half
successfully to sit up. And the he remembered what was going on and he
flumped back down to the floor.
It was at that moment of course that Madam Pomfrey came in to check
on him. She stood a few feet away stifling a small laugh and asked, “Would
you like some help, dear?”
Peeves pursed his lips and shimmied himself back into a sitting
position against the bed. “Nope, got it.” He began determinedly
attempting to tug apart the sheet that had somehow twined itself around
his arms like handcuffs, or more accurately, like a straightjacket.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded and applied himself more vigorously to the cloth. Try as he
might however the ‘bonds’ would not loosen.
Pomfrey sighed and waved her wand, the sheets fell easily away from
“Hey!” he said indignantly. “I said I could do it, dinn I?”
“I’m sure you could have, it was just quicker for me to do it.”
“Hmph.” Now untangled he leapt into the air and promptly toppled down
onto the bed. He stared dumbfounded. What had gone wrong?
He heard the nurse sigh. “Humans can’t float or fly Peeves, not
without brooms at least. You’re going to be walking from now on.”
Peeves was horrorstruck. “WHAT?!” he shrieked.
She winced. “I’m sorry.” she offered.
He crossed his arms. “At’s not fair. Walking’s stupid.” He pouted.
“You can’t make me walk.”
Pomfrey however, was not impressed. “Well then you’re going to be
sitting there for a very long time, I’m afraid. I’ll just go tell the
headmaster I won’t be needed to take you to Diagon Alley after all.”
She turned to leave.
“Waitamininit! Didn’t say I wouldn’t, did I?”
“Oh?” She looked back at him.
Never once in all his existence had Peeves been off the castle
grounds, he simply wasn’t able to exist beyond them. It was a fact that
he’d always found rather depressing and he’d usually gotten rather
upset when he heard students talking about being anywhere but in school.
Such students generally ended up very wet.
But now he had the chance to see somewhere besides the stupid old
castle. The only catch was he was going to have to walk. Well, how
hard could it be, anyway? Humans did it all the time, there was no
reason he shouldn’t be able to do it, and easily.
“Hokee,” he said and regarded the floor as though it was his
arch-nemesis, which, to his way thinking, it was. Now how was it that
mortals did this sort of thing? Well, they usually started with both
feet on the ground, he was fairly sure of that at least. Peeves put one
hand on the bed post to catch himself in the unlikely event that
something should go wrong and slid off the bed to his feet.
He promptly fell to his knees with a thump.
His eyes flashed and he looked up at Pomfrey who was hurrying over.
He crossed his arms sulkily and demanded, “What went wrong?”
The nurse suppressed a sigh of resignation. “I expect you forgot to
use your legs to brace yourself.”
Now she did sigh. “Give me your hand Peeves,” she said extending her
“No!” he protested. “It’s mine, fair and square!”
Pomfrey’s patience was wearing thin. She put her free hand on her
hip. “I’m not going to take it from you,” she explained carefully.
“I’m going to help you stand up.”
He continued to regard her mistrustfully.
“I have better things to do today than cart ungrateful brats all
around Diagon Alley, you know.”
That did it. He thrust his entire right arm at the woman.
The nurse grasped his hand firmly. “Now, I’m going to help you get up,
but you need to brace yourself against the floor.”
He blinked at her. “Whasat?”
She took a deep breath. How did one explain standing up? “Sort of
push down on the floor with your feet,” she ventured.
Peeves considered this. He supposed it was worth a try at least. The
worst thing that could happen was that he’d fall down, again.
“Are you ready?”
“Alright now, push down,” she said and pulled him up by the hand.
Peeves pushed down on the floor and miraculously felt himself
standing up, partly under his own power. Once he was all the way
standing up, Pomfrey put her free hand on his shoulder to steady him.
“Alright then, you’re standing up. Now, I’m going to let go of you in
a moment, and I want you to continue standing up. Just, keep doing what
you’re doing now. Keep your legs tense so they’ll support you. You
don’t want to fall down again.”
She was right about that. Falling down hurt! He nodded.
“Alright then. I’m letting you go now.” As she said this she eased
her hands off him and took a step backwards.
Peeves squinted an eye, concentrating on not falling down. And he
didn’t fall down. “‘Snot so hard,” he said rather smugly.
“No? Good then,” she took a few steps away. “Walk toward me.”
Peeves looked down at his feet, halfway covered by the long hospital
gown he was wearing. “Er-“
“Put one foot down in front of the other,” she instructed. “Watch
me.” She took two steps forward, then turned around and took two steps
He watched her closely. Again, it didn’t seem like a difficult task.
How hard could it be when humans did it practically all day long? But
this time he was more carefully as he attempted the mortal mode of
Gingerly he lifted one foot, copying the nurse’s movement, and put it
down in front of the other. He wobbled a bit but did not fall. Quite
pleased with himself he lifted the other foot and put it in front of
the first one. He looked back over his shoulder and realized that he
was no longer standing in the same spot. He laughed and confidently
took another two steps forward.
Madam Pomfrey nodded with approval. “Very good. Very good. Now,
Peeves figured out turning for himself, spinning around on his heel
and marching in the other direction. Now quite sure he didn’t need any
more walking lessons he decided to leave the room and see what the
castle looked like from a walking point of view. He walked all the way
across the room and into the wall. Now he fell down.
“OW!” he complained loudly, rubbing his backside. “What
Pomfrey sighed. “You can’t go through things either Peeves. You’re
That was right, humans were solid. What fun was that? He stood up
again and poked the wall. “Huh. Bloody ‘ell, that’s weird.”
“Peeves, watch your language,” Madam Pomfrey scolded.
“Hmph,” he pouted. “Well, c’n we go yet?”
“Patience. You can’t go out dressed like that.” She gestured at his
mint green hospital gown.
“Why not?” he demanded petulantly.
“Because people would stare. Now just a moment.” She waved her
wand. “Apparicium Apparel.”
A pile of neatly folded clothing appeared on the bed. Peeves picked
them up and inspected them: black trousers, cream colored shirt,
charcoal grey vest, black wizard’s cloak and sneakers. He made a face
and dropped them to the floor. “Won’t wear ’em.”
“Oh good heavens, why not?” the nurse was becoming quite
exasperated by now.
He crossed his arms. “They’re ugly. There’s no color.”
“For Merlin’s sake,” she muttered under her breath. “All right, what
colors do you want?”
He shrugged. “Brighter. Purple, green. Blue maybe.”
The woman was past her last nerve. If the boy wanted to look like he
fell into a paint shop let him. She waved her wand again. “Tintirius.”
Peeves watched the pile of clothes on the floor change colors with
satisfaction. The shirt turned royal violet, the vest emerald green and
the cloak and pants both turned a deep shade of blue.
“Better?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“I’ll just leave while you change then.” Madam Pomfrey bustled out of
the room, sincerely hoping Peeves would be able to dress without her
Ginny woke to her mother shouting at the twins for something or
another. It was a common enough occurrence at the Burrow and Ginny
wasn’t overly worried, only rather regretful that yet another day would
start on that note. She yawned tiredly and looked out the window. It
was obviously past dawn, but it looked as though it were going to be a
very grey day. She hoped it wouldn’t rain again while they were at
Diagon Alley. The ground was already soaked from the previous and more
rain would put her mother’s nerves on edge worse than they were at the
moment. The beginning of the school year always put the Weasley
household on edge. Well, except for her father, but not very much could
put him on edge.
The youngest Weasley decided it would be prudent to get up now
instead of lingering in bed, thus saving her mother from another
grief. She yawned again, and stretched and slid out of bed and into
a pair of very old bunny slippers a size and a half to large for her.
They had been Charlie’s once, but he had bequeathed them to her
along with his room as a going away present when he’d moved out.
She’d been very small then and had slept with the things instead of
actually wearing them. She’d cried a lot when Charlie had left, he
was probably her favorite brother, and he made sure to write her as
often as possible.
She sighed and shuffled over to her bureau and pulled open a drawer.
Usually the clothes were all neatly folded, muggle clothing mostly;
jeans and t-shirts while her ‘good’ clothing was all hung up in the
closet, her robes and the one or two skirts and dress shirts she owned.
But nearly all of that was packed for school now and she pulled out the
only outfit left, her least dingy pair of blue jeans and a grey and
blue striped shirt. She’d have to wear a cloak over them since she’d be
going out in public but that was okay. If she didn’t she’d just get
harassed by the likes of Malfoy and Zambini. Blaire Zambini was a
Slytherin in her year, his older brother Blaise was in Harry and Ron’s
year and was a member of Draco Malfoy’s gang.
Blaire was always making nasty comments about her and tripping her in
the hallway leading a group of Slytherins in their year. Ginny really
hoped that at the very least she wouldn’t run across him in Diagon Alley
today, since it was probably too much to ask that he had miraculously
transferred to another school or died over the summer.
She sighed and tugged her clothing on. She looked hopefully in the
mirror. She’d barely grown at all over the summer, and she was still
sure to be one of the smallest students in Gryffindor. She had more
freckles now too, and her skin was a shade darker, probably from all
the time she’d spent outside this summer gardening and reading and
the like. She was delicately built with small, slender limbs and she
was quite skinny and not at all filled out in the chest like some of
the girls in her year. Her facial features were soft like those of most
of her family and she had very large eyes, sometimes brown, sometimes
green that tended to get lost behind strands of her long, straight-as-a
-ruler golden-orange hair if she didn’t tie it back properly. The
entire effect, coupled with her often-times over-large clothing, made
her appear rather younger than she actually was.
“You look very nice dear,” her mirror said in a grandmotherly voice.
“But I can’t understand how you see behind all that hair.”
Ginny smiled half-heartedly and brushed a few strands out of her
face. She opened the wardrobe and took out the long black cloak that
hung on a peg. It was slightly frayed at the edges and part of the hem
on the left sleeve needed to be repaired but otherwise it was fine. She
draped it around her shoulders and fastened the clasp, a silver rose,
a birthday present from her grandmother. She was debating whether to
braid her hair or just let it hang loose when someone knocked on the
“Coming,” she said hurriedly opening the door. It was her mother, who
looked relieved to see her up. “G’morning mum.”
“Oh, Ginny, good you’re already awake. Breakfast’s on the table.” She
then turned and hurried up the stairs, probably to wake Ron and Harry.
Ginny shook her head. Her mother always had a thousand things on her
mind and never enough time to do them. Ginny supposed she couldn’t
blame her with seven children, five of which still lived at home, plus
She hurried down the stairs to the kitchen where her father, Percy
and the twins were already seated.
“Good morning pumpkin,” her father smiled momentarily looking up from
his copy of the Daily Prophet.
“Morning Gin,” the twins said at the same time with identical grins.
“Good morning,” she replied to them, and put a few pieces of toast
with jam on her plate.
Now Percy looked up distractedly. “Oh, good morning.” He promptly
went back to doing whatever he was doing with his roll of parchment.
Ginny sighed and drank a little of her orange juice. Sometimes she
thought Percy must be on drugs or something, except he was too prissy
to take drugs. Prissy perfect Percy.
Their mother then came down the stairs with Harry and Ron in tow,
looking as though they’d been up all night.
“Mooooorning,” Ron said with a sleepy yawn as he and Harry sat down.
Fred and George exchanged grins.
“Sleep well you two?” Fred asked suggestively.
“Oh give it a rest,” Harry said. “It’s not any funnier OR less wrong
than it was at the beginning of the summer.”
“Oh really? Then what were those noises we heard last night.”
“We could ask you the same thing,” Harry shot back.
“Boys!” Mrs. Weasley warned.
“Sorry mum,” Fred apologized.
“Sorry Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said.
“It’s alright dear,” Mrs. Weasley said warmly to Harry while giving
the twins a stern look. “Are all of you ready to go to get your school
things after breakfast?”
There was a resounding chorus of yeses from everyone at the table,
except from Percy and their father who had gotten up and gone off to
work while Fred and Harry were arguing.
“Good then, just come into the living room when you’re finished
eating.” She bustled off to make last minute preparations.
They took floo powder like always and, unlike the first such trip
Harry had accompanied them on, in his second year and her first, she
noticed that he managed to end up as the same place as all of them. It
was a specially designated area in the post office for those who
Ginny tagged along behind the rest, listening to the bustle of witches
and wizards going about their business. Their first stop would be the
Apothecary, and then she knew they’d end up spending an hour or more
in the pet shop because Ron and Harry would ‘just want to look’, then
bookshop, Flourish and Blotts to get their new texts. After that was
the secondhand shop to get Ron more robes since he’d already outgrown
the ones from last year. Ginny wouldn’t be getting any though, since
there was no actually change in her size. Last years robes would have
to do. She sighed. She wouldn’t even be getting any dress robes for the
annual ball this year like the rest of her class since her mum had sent
her some last year when she’d managed to get invited by Neville.
Standing at the checkout line in Flourish and Blotts behind her
mother she decided that this was as good a time as any to ask.
“Mum,” she said. “You’re going to get Ron’s robes next, right?”
“Well, I’ve got a little bit of pocket money I’ve been saving up and
I was wondering if I could go to Felicia’s Fabulous Fashions and then
meet you somewhere for lunch.” She wrung her hands nervously. Please
say yes, she prayed.
Her mother gave her a dubious look.
“Please mum? I’m fourteen, I’ll be really responsible, and really
really careful. I promise,” she looked up hopefully.
“Well, I suppose. But be careful. And don’t you dare go wandering
off. I’ll meet you in front of Fortescue’s in one hour. Hear me? One
hour,” she warned.
“I promise mum. Thank you,” she gave her mother a quick hug.
“You’re welcome dear.”
Ginny hurried out of the dusty bookstore and out into the street. In
the distance the grey sky rumbled with thunder.
Madam Pomfrey had aperated them into a disused corner of Diagon
Alley. There was a blank wall behind them and no where to go but
forward. Coming from up ahead Peeves could hear excited noises and
masses of people, a harmony of discord like the castle right before the
Christmas holidays. He stared around them, amazed that he was somewhere
besides inside of Hogwarts. For once he couldn’t think of anything
either rude or witty to say.
“Come along then,” Madam Pomfrey said, looking at a list in her hand.
“We’ll get your robes first I think, before Melissa gets swamped by
other customers, then your books I think, then we’ll visit the
apothecary for your potions things, and we’ll save your wand for last.”
Peeves’ eyes lit up and he grinned rather manically. “I get a wand?”
“Dumbledore says you’re to be treated just like any other student,”
she replied with a hint of resignation.
“Knew old Alby’d be good for something!” he rubbed his hands
Pomfrey frowned. “If you’re to be treated as a student you’d best
start acting like one. And that means treating people with respect.
Teachers, students and especially the head master. Or you’ll be
expelled just like any other student.”
Peeves bowed his head. “Yes’m,” he said, making a show of respect. He
didn’t see why though, after all, he’d known just about everyone who
taught there when they were students, and he knew for a fact that
‘Headmaster Dumbledore’ had, and most likely still slept with a
tattered old bear named Whiskers. Years ago Peeves had stolen the bear
on more than one occasion. But he didn’t mention this to Poppy, who’d
always been just as obsessed about manners, cleanliness and quiet as
she was now.
“Alright, let’s get this done,” she nodded.
Peeves followed her out into the main stretch of Diagon Alley. It was
filled with people, loads of them, all wearing different things and
going in and out of shops, large ones and small ones and in the middle
ones. It was horrendously noisy and hard to move without bumping into
anything. Looking up at the clouds Peeves realized that there wasn’t a
ceiling over head; that it was the actually sky and if it did what it
was threatening to and rained he would most likely get wet. In short it
was more amazing than anything Peeves had seen in a thousand years. He
felt Madam Pomfrey grab his hand and tow him along toward whatever shop
it was that they were going to, but he just kept staring around at
After a moment or two Pomfrey brought him into a shop called ‘Madam
Malkin’s’. Compared to the outside it was rather boring. It was
spotlessly clean and had a lot of mannequins wearing various types of
robes. There didn’t seem to be anyone else inside.
“Melissa, I have a customer for your,” Pomfrey called.
A woman of middling years and built rather similarly to the Hogwarts
school nurse came out from a back room. “Poppy? Is that you, I haven’t
seen you in ages!”
“It’s nice to see you too,” she said and told Peeves, “she’s my
“And who’s this?” Melissa asked, putting hands on her hips. “This
doesn’t look like a fist year.”
“He’s a… transfer student,” she said carefully. “Dumbledore put me
in charge of him.”
“Of course,” Malkin nodded. “Step up here please young man,” she
told him, gesturing to a pedestal. “Have you a name?”
“No,” he replied impudently, having not come up with one yet.
“Well that’s a shame,” she replied, refusing to be ruffled. “Lift
your arms please dear.” She tugged a black robe over him. “Now hold
them out like this if you will, that’s it.” She began placing little
pins in odd places of the robe and said to Madam Pomfrey. “So tell me
how you’ve been, mm, Poppy. You write me so little.”
“I’ve been busy, I’m afraid,” and then launched into an account of
what she’d been doing over the past several months.
After a few minutes Peeves began fidgeting. His arms were beginning to
feel heavy from holding them out like he was and he was growing tired
of listening to the two women chattering on and on. “This is boring,”
“Yes it is dear,” Madam Malkin said, putting another pin in. “Now
please stop fussing or it will become less boring when I accidentally
stick you with a pin.”
The bookshop wasn’t nearly as boring as the robe shop and Pomfrey had
had to almost forcibly pry him away from various books such as ‘101
Potentially Destructive Hexes’ and had had to apologize to
Mr. Flourish when he’d tried to smuggle it out under his cloak. Quite
distressed she’d scolded him for nearly fifteen minutes about stealing
and things a boy simply was and was not to do. He had to suppress a
yawn several times during the lecture. They’d gotten his texts though
and one or two of them actually seemed almost as interesting as the
hexes, Defense against the Dark Arts and Divinations most specifically.
The Apothecary wasn’t too entertaining; he’d seen most of the potions
ingredients before in the dungeons. And when he knocked over one of the
barrels of beetle eyes he managed to convince Madam Pomfrey that it had
been an accident, which was almost true. Some kid had made him stumble
and he’d kicked the barrel at him to get even.
They’d had lunch after that, ham sandwiches, which Peeves had quite
enjoyed and pumpkin juice, which he’d always wondered what it tasted
like. Now he knew.
“Well there’s only one last thing,” Madam Pomfrey said looking at her
mostly crossed off list. “And that’s your wand.”
“Oh goody-goody gumdrops! Yay for me!” he exclaimed exuberantly.
Pomfrey sighed. “Come along then.”
When they entered Ollivander’s it threatened to be just as boring as
the robe shop had been. But, Peeves reminded himself, this was where
he was going to get a wand. That certainly couldn’t be boring.
The man who greeted them looked so old he should have been dead six
times over. But he didn’t dodder and seemed to be in perfect health
other than probably being nearly as old as his shop.
“Ah, Poppy Pomfrey,” he rasped, “how lovely to see you again. Oak
and phoenix feather, ten inches yes?”
“And who’s this young fellow hmmm?” he peered down at Peeves.
“Aw, you don’t lisp any more,” Peeves remarked, disappointed.
“I say, how do you?” Ollivander was for once caught off guard.
Poppy sighed. “I suppose I can tell you Mr. Ollivander. There was
something of an accident last night at the castle. Peeves the
Poltergeist got turned into a human somehow.”
“My word is this really?” he peered again blink.
“Take a picture it’ll last longer,” Peeves said, annoyed, and tweaked
the old man’s nose.
Ollivander took a step backward and rubbed his nose. “Remarkable.
Truly remarkable. I expect Dumbledore wants him to attend classed?”
Pomfrey nodded. “That’s why we’re here.”
“Well then I suppose we’d best try and find a wand for you hadn’t we?
Dumbledore must know what he’s doing after all. Now let’s see, let’s
see. You’d be left handed I’d guess wouldn’t you?” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Peeves sneered as the man doddered around the room gathering
up a few boxes and setting them down on the table.
“Let’s try this, then. Holly and dragon heartstring nine inches,
very good at charms,” he handed it to Peeves but took it back a second
“Hey!” he protested.
“No no, that’s not it. Hmm, perhaps this one. Pine and unicorn hair,
nice for counter jinxes twelve inches.”
But again the wand was snatched back before Peeves had a chance to
properly wave it. Four or five more wands were handed to him in quick
succession and Ollivander deemed all of them wrong as well. Peeves was
getting quite annoyed.
“Hmm, you know I think I’ve got just the thing,” Ollivander said,
giving the ex-spook another long appraising look.
“Well then why didn’t you get it in the first place?” he demanded.
“Peeves!” Pomfrey scolded. “Be polite.”
“Quite alright, quite alright madam, all things in good time. I’ll
be back in just a moment.” Ollivander turned and hurried into the back
Peeves crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently until he
returned with a single wand box. “Lemonwood and dragon heartstring,
thirteen inches, good for curses and counter curses. I’ve had it for
ages and never found the right customer. Maybe it will agree with you,
Peeves.” His eyes twinkled as he opened the box and took the wand out.
Like Ollivander had said, it was just over a foot long; it was
quite slender, and had a faintly yellowish hue to it.
“Here,” the old man said, handing it to him delicately. “Give it a
good wave now.”
Peeves held it gently, liking the feel of the polished wood between
his fingers. With a grin and a flourish he swung it in an upwards arc
trailing bright red and violet sparkles that snapped and hissed like
Peeves stared at the smoke as it settled in the air in the wake of
the magic he’d done. Magic, him. Imagine that. He grinned.
“I’d say that settles that,” Ollivander said, satisfied and somehow
After Madam Pomfrey paid for the wand and they had started down the
street Peeves thought of something.
“We have to go back to the castle now, don’t we?” he demanded. He did
not under any circumstances want to go back to the castle yet. There
was so much of Diagon Alley he hadn’t seen and he knew Pomfrey wouldn’t
let him explore the lot of it. If only he could go exploring himself.
“Well, no, actually,” she replied. “Dumbledore gave me a little bit
of extra money so could buy something you wanted that wasn’t on the
list. And before you ask, no there wasn’t enough for that book.”
The last bit rather disappointed him, but the rest pleasantly
surprised him. “Al- the Headmaster gave me money? Li’l ole me? Can I
“Well, I suppose,” she fished a fistful of sickles from her purse
and handed them to him.
Peeves grinned at the glittering silver pieces and shoved them in
his pocket. Then he suddenly stared open mouthed and horrified over
Madam Pomfrey’s left shoulder. “OH MY GOD WHAT’S THAT?!” he pointed.
Startled, the woman turned around to find out what it was.
Grinning like a mad man Peeves took off into the crowd and, after he
was sure he’d lost any pursuer, slowed to a leisurely pace. He strolled
along, looking for an interesting place to spend his money. After a
block or two of relatively dull looking shops he came one with all
manner of strange things in the window display. Decks of cards, a flag
with scull and crossbones, an oil lamp, a stuffed dragon, some jewelry,
a chesterfield sofa, a set of pencils, a bottle of wine, and some
things Peeves couldn’t readily identify. The sign above it all read
‘Marvelous Marvin’s Magical Mishmash’.
With a bright grin and the feeling that this shop would be anything
but boring he opened the door, a cheerful bell announcing him as he
entered. The store, which was a single large room, was so full of
displays of various types of knick-knacks, bric-a-brac and the like that
there was hardly any room to begin. Each item had a small white card
beneath it explaining just what was magical about it.
The first display to attract Peeves’ attention was a number of
different swords in a case near the door. He examined each one in turn.
The first one could barely be called sword, it was more of a dagger.
‘Sting’ the card said. ‘Glows blue in the presence of Goblins,
date and origin unknown.’ The next was much larger, almost as tall as
a person and very thick. ‘Ultima Weapon: said to be the Ultimate weapon,
it was discovered in the wreckage caused by a dark magic construct, also
called the Ultimate Weapon.’ The next one was a standard broadsword,
well crafted as far as Peeves could tell, with a golden hilt embossed
with three connected triangles. ‘The Master Sword: once wielded by the
Hero of Time, said to be a gift from the heavens.’ There was a
short sword, ‘Need: only a woman may wield this sword. The next sword was
another broadsword, this one however looking much, much older. ‘Narsil:
the sword that was broken. Discovered during the excavation of the
tomb of an unknown king.’ The last sword didn’t seem to be a sword at
all, just a strangely carven hilt with a hole where the blade should
have been. The card however explained the oddity. ‘Hikari no Ken (Sword
of Light): a blade of blue energy is summoned forth with the
incantation ‘Hikari-o’ (light come forth). A demon slaying blade.’
But the swords, strange as they were, soon lost Peeves’ interest as
there was no way he could afford them with the money he had on him.
Something told him Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let him keep one even if he
could. So he redirected his gaze on something else. Wandering around
the shop he discovered a weird deck of cards called ‘Clow Cards’, that
contained the power of some old magician, a magic paintbrush form Japan,
several shards from a shikon crystal,a statue of the dragon god Shendu
that demanded to be bought, in a very loud and gruff voice, a crystal
ball belonging to the Goblin King, and a thousand other random objects.
Peeves wandered over to a display of jewelry.
There was a tiara that supposedly belonged to the moon princess, a
spider pin once in the possession of a necromancer and medium named
Lydia, a ring of power that was supposed to belong to some ancient Dark
Lord, the ornate mask of a Japanese shugenja that made anything the
wearer say seem plausible, and a silver necklace; a thick chain with
a large crescent moon pendant. ‘Lunar Charm: be spelled to mirror the
phases of the moon. Handed down by a long line of werewolf hunters.’
Try as he might Peeves couldn’t take his eyes off the necklace. And
he could afford it too, with a little money left over. That settled it,
he would buy it.
He looked over at the counter where a youngish looking wizard, maybe
twenty-five or so, with brown hair and large glasses reading a very
heavy tome of a book.
“Oy!” Peeves called. “You Marvin?”
The wizard nodded. “Yes.”
“I wanna buy something in this case over here,” he gestured to the
“Oh? Alright.” he marked his place in the book and hurried over, a set
of keys jangling in his hand. “What are you buying?” he asked as he
unlocked the case.
“The moon necklace,” Peeves told him.
“Ah, well I’m happy to tell you that one’s not a fake, unlike some of
the other bits and pieces I’ve got,” he gave a wry grin and gestured
around the shop. “The man who sold it to me really claimed to be a
were-wolf hunter and it really does change with the moon. See how it’s
a sliver right now? It’ll keep getting bigger until the full moon, then
it’ll get smaller until the new moon when it turns into a seven pointed
star. It’s only coated with silver though, the rest of it’s some other
metal, and it’s a simple enough charm it’s got on it so I can’t charge
you too much for it. Does eight sickles sound fair?” Marvin had a
pleasant and unassuming manner and Peeves was quite sure he’d met him
It came to him as he was handing the shop keeper the eight silver
coins he’d counted out. “Marvin Fairbaine!” he exclaimed. “You got hit
buy a bludger in the stands at a Hufflepuff-Slytherin match in your
first year and refused to go to another game!” Peeves snorted and
Marvin noticeable paled. “Wha- How-do I know you? How do you know
that?” he demanded.
“Oh, hehe,” Peeves stopped and twiddled his thumbs. “I’m
“Oh, um, okay.” Some of the shock had gone out of his face and was
being replaced by an embarrassed blush. “That’s really fascinating,
Divinations. Never was any good at it in school.”
“I know, Trelawny predicted your death six times, didn’t she?” he
was now thoroughly enjoying pretending to be a psychic.
“Would you…like a bag for this?” he asked nervously, obviously
attempting to get him to leave the shop.
“Nope, thanks Marvin,” he grabbed the pendant and fastened it around
As he strolled out of the shop he realized that Madam Pomfrey would
eventually catch up to him and scold him for running off, so he’d best
make use of what time he had. Looking around the still crowded Alley
he spied Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. He’d never had ice cream
before of course, but the students at Hogwarts seemed to like it a lot
and he had four sickles left so he might as well try some.
He marched up to the counter. “I’d like some ice cream.” He announced.
“Alright,” said the tubby, cheerful wizard behind the register.
“What flavor would you like?”
That stumped him. There were different flavors? “Um, I, don’t know.”
“Well, take you time,” the wizard smiled. “I’ve got five hundred
different kinds for you to choose from.”
He stared. Five hundred? How was he supposed to pick the best one?
Peeves had an idea. He turned around an surveyed the crowds of wizards
looking for someone who looked as though they knew their ice cream.
He spied a young looking girl with red hair and no obvious escort
carrying a pink shopping bag about to pass him. Abruptly he reached out
and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him.
“What’s the best kind of ice cream?” he demanded.
The girl blinked. “What?”
“Ice cream. Which one’s the best?”
She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know. Don’t you have a favorite?”
“No. I’ve never had it before.”
“You’ve never had ice cream? You must have awfully strict parents.
Um, could you let go of my wrist please?” She looked up at him a bit
He dropped her wrist. “Oh, no they just…don’t have ice cream where
“They don’t? But I thought they had ice cream everywhere. Where on
Earth are you from?” the red head was looking more puzzled by the
“I’m from…Canada!” he said the first thing that jumped to his head
and sang, “Oh Canada, my home and native land!”
“They don’t have ice cream in Canada?” she stared in disbelief.
“Nope.” He shrugged. Peeves looked the girl over, red hair, skinny,
tatty robes. “Oh, you’re Ginny Weasley,” he recognized.
Now she looked even more bewildered. “How do you know that if you’re
from Canada?” she demanded suspiciously.
“I’m clairvoyant!” he explained again. “Really great at Divinations!”
“Oh really?” she crossed her arms. “Tell me my birthday then.”
Peeves thought a moment. “Well, I’m not good at that kind of stuff
but…c’mere,” he gestured.
She took a step closer and he leaned down and whispered to her.
“You’ve got a crush on Harry Potter and a pair of blue teddy-bear
undies that went missing last year.”
Ginny went scarlet. “But NOBODY knows that!”
He shrugged. “I told you.” Her crush was common knowledge around
Hogwarts, though she didn’t know it, and he’d been the one who’d stolen
“Well, alright then,” he blush was fading. “You know me now, but I
don’t know you. What’s your name?”
Peeves drew a blank. He cast his gaze around to latch his mind onto
something. “Hat! Er- Hatter. Jack Hatter,” he grinned and held out his
“Pleased to meet you, ” she reached out for a handshake but he pulled
away and beeped her nose instead. “Hey!”
“Well, Jack, what’s Canada like?” she asked.
“Oh, wonderful, you’d like it. Lot’s of…cans.”
“But no ice cream.”
“No ice cream. That’s how it got it’s name you know, the cans. They
invented cans there, so, Canada. ‘Ada’ means ‘land of’ in Canadian,” he
told her, lying outrageously.
Ginny giggled. “Right well, I don’t know what other people think is
the best ice cream but I like peanut butter.”
He nodded very seriously. “Okay, I want two peanut butter ice creams,”
he told the fat wizard.
“Two?” Ginny asked. “But you don’t even know if you like it yet.”
The wizard handed Peeves tow large cones and he in turn handed one
to Ginny and paid his remaining four sickles.
“Oh, you didn’t have to but me any,” she protested, going scarlet
“Yes I did. Madam Pomfrey told me to be polite, AND if I don’t like
the ice cream I can dump yours on your head,” he explained to her
Ginny however took it as a joke and giggled again. “Madam Pomfey?
He nodded. “Dumbledore made her take me to get school things since I
don’t have any parents.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are they dead?”
“No, they’re in Canada still. They work at a can factory.” He licked
the ice cream. “Hey, this is really good.”
“I’m glad you like it. What year will you be in?”
“Fourth,” he said through a mouthful of the ice cream.
“Oh, really? Me too. Maybe you’ll be in Gryffindor with me.”
“Maybe.” He nodded, but privately he didn’t really think so.
Ginny started to say something but stopped. “Oh, Jack, this is my
mother,” she said as a short, plump witch approached them.
But Peeves two saw an authority figure in the distance, Madam Pomfrey,
and he could tell she had seen him. There was no point in running off
now. Instead he just shrugged and walked toward her.
“Mum this is Ja-” Ginny began, but by the time she turned around he
To be continued…
Oh, by the way, all the stuff in Marvin’s shop, in case you couldn’t
tell, is references to other works sch as Lord of the Rings, Final
Fantasy, Sailor Moon, Legend of Zelda, Slayers, Card Captor Sakura,
Inu Yasha, Jackie Chan Adventures, Mercedes Lackey, Beetlejuice
and Labyrinth. Needless to say I own none of these things. I made up
the necklace he bought though. Next chapter, Hogwarts!
Read it? Review it!