Harry Potter is dead! Obviously! But that doesn't mean he can't have some fun.
With a sudden jolt Harry seemed to come to his senses and looked around the room wildly in confusion and much to his surprise he found himself standing in the middle of his bedroom on Privet Drive. Or at least it used to be his room. It had been nearly a year since he left the Dursleys for good and it seemed that Dudley had reclaimed it for the rest of the junk that he would beg his parents for like a whinny two year old and then lose interest a few days later. Harry shook his head at the mountains of crap that seemed to fill every corner of the room.
'Dudley never had a chance.' He thought to himself with a strange combination of pity and amusement. He had met many people like his obese cousin over the years, Draco Malfoy among them, and they could never learn how to be self sufficient and wouldn't stand a chance on their own in the real world. Of course Dudley was still alive while Draco most certainly wasn't. He had to suppress a light chuckle as he relived the memory of the little ferret being struck down by his own master at the end of his sixth year. It was certainly one of the only times that he appreciated his link with Voldemort.
Dear old Tom was just a trifle upset that Draco didn't have the nerve to kill Dumbledore himself and decided to kill him very painfully as an example to the others. To show them what would happen to cowards. It was a very effective demonstration. Sadly, Harry thought back with great sarcasm, Snape had died immediately afterwards since he was unable to protect the boy, thus breaking the 'Unbreakable Vow' Narcissa Malfoy had bullied him into taking the summer before.
Harry was a little disturbed that he took so much pleasure in seeing the two Slytherins suffer so much before the end but he certainly felt that they deserved it.
Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, he tried to figure out how he had ended up here of all places. The last thing he remembered was once again fighting Voldemort in the cemetery outside his father's old house in Little Hangleton while Aurors and members of the Order took care of the Death Eaters. With the help of Ron and Hermione, and later Neville, he had hunted down and destroyed most of Snake Face's Horcruxes but the final one, ironically enough, was the headstone of his father's grave. Its destruction set off some kind of ward and Death Eaters began pouring out of the house almost immediately, accompanied by their 'Lord'. A few foolish individuals thought that the shock of his final Horcrux being destroyed would force Voldemort to flee but it would seem that his anger and hatred of Harry overrode his fear of death. He may not have been immortal anymore but he was still the most powerful wizard on the field of battle.
His duel with the Dark Lord only lasted about twenty minutes but in that time he sustained numerous injuries while he was only able to get around Voldemort's defenses on a handful of occasions. He was, after all, a great deal more experienced and he soon dropped to his knees in exhaustion and pain. Voldemort found this very amusing. He stepped closer and began to taunt him when Harry raised his wand swiftly and clearly intoned the incantation for the killing curse.
Order members, Aurors and Death Eaters alike turned to look in shock at the Boy-Who-Lived casting an Unforgivable. With shock of both the speed of Harry's wand and the curse he choose, Voldemort never had a chance to move.
Harry chuckled to himself as he thought back to that. He may not have been able to cast a successful Cruciatus curse but apparently his hate for Voldemort and his desire to see him dead was strong enough to cast THAT particular curse. The last thing he remembered before the blackness overtook his vision was the limp body of the fearsome Dark Lord slumping to the ground and a black haze rising out of him and dispersing with an unholy shriek as it seemed to be pulled in all directions at once.
"Why the hell did they look so shocked? How did they expect me to kill him, with a tickling charm?" Harry snorted to himself. "Alright, how in the name of Merlin did I get here of all places?" After thinking for several minutes and coming up with no answers he decided that it would probably be best to leave without his relatives knowing that he had inexplicably 'popped in'. Reaching for the doorknob he got yet another shock as his hand passed right through it. With a startled gasp he brought his hand up in front of his face and found that while it did seem to have quite a bit of color, it was most certainly transparent.
"Oh boy. This could be a problem, mmm hmm." Harry just stood there, looking at his hand in shock for a long while.
'Am I dead?' He thought to himself. He was a little surprised when the thought didn't seem all that bad to him. True, he never really feared death, at least not as Voldemort feared it but the thought was never that appealing to him. According to Nearly Headless Nick, ghosts were the spirits of people that fear 'what lay beyond' or have some sort of unfinished business. He didn't really fear the afterlife, far from it, he actually found the idea of spending an eternity in peace and harmony to be a rather boring concept, even with the prospect of meeting his parents and seeing Sirius again. And as long as Voldemort was truly dead this time he didn't really have anything pressing to do.
Unconsciously he closed his eyes tight as he took a step forward and was a little surprised that he felt absolutely nothing as he passed through the bedroom door. He didn't know what to expect but he figured that he would feel something but it was like it wasn't even there. Looking back over his shoulder he shrugged and began to make his way downstairs but came to a small problem as he tried to move down the first step. He found that he wasn't so much walking but rather floating along and he couldn't seem to 'descend'. After huffing in annoyance it took him several moments of thought to figure out that since he could no longer rely on gravity to move down the stairs he had to make a conscious effort to achieve the same thing by essentially 'willing' himself to move up or down, much as he already did to move forward only he didn't realize what he had actually been doing at the time.
With this problem taken care of, and the realization of his present situation, the thought of leaving unnoticed no longer appealed to him and he chose to see how the Dursleys might have changed within the last year. After looking around the ground floor he found the Dursleys quietly eating a late lunch. Vernon looked exactly as he remembered him, although he did seem a bit pale and his breathing was a bit more ragged than usual, which was no great surprise really. A man that size, at his age, certainly isn't going to be the picture of health. Despite all the ridicule he had received from the man for most of his life, Harry couldn't suppress a very brief flicker of pity.
His Aunt Petunia was busy peering out the kitchen window, spying on the neighbors no doubt, but he barely spared her a passing glance. His full attention was directed at his cousin Dudley with disgust, who, if possible, seemed to have grown quite a bit in the year since he had last seen him. He was now even larger than his father and was currently stuffing his face with pastries as he stared at the television that rested on the counter, his fat left hand wrapped firmly around the walking stick that was part of his Smelting's uniform. He had been expelled from the prep school during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts but he apparently still found use for the stick. Beating younger children for example.
Simply for his own amusement, Harry positioned himself right behind his uncle and casually waved his hand through his massive back a few times.
Almost instantly Vernon gasped loudly and tried in vain to suppress the slight tremors his body had released. Petunia immediately turned away from the window and regarded her husband with wide worried eyes. Apparently Harry was not the only one that had noticed the degradation of the large man's health although it was clear from the food on the table that his diet had not changed. Family or not, Harry could not bring himself to feel sorry for the man. They had treated him like dirt his entire life and it was his own lifestyle that had brought him to this point.
"What's wrong, Vernon? Are you alright?" Petunia asked fearfully.
"I'm fine, dear. A cold breeze just took me by surprise is all." After shaking off the cold feeling he looked up at his wife. "I'm alright, it just felt a bit... unnatural for some reason."
Dudley, who hadn't been paying attention at all heard this last comment and turned to look at his father with wide eyes as his face paled slightly. He clearly remembered being attacked by 'invisible' creatures two years before until his cousin had driven them off. It was an experience he wasn't in a hurry to repeat.
"Do, do you think it could be those Demento things again?" He asked in a low stuttering voice.
"I WILL NOT HAVE TALK OF SUCH FREAKISH THINGS IN THIS HOUSE!" Vernon bellowed as he jumped to his feet and leaned out over the table causing Dudley to jump slightly in surprise which unfortunately broke the chair he had been sitting in, sending him crashing to the floor. Harry laughed loudly in a booming voice at the sight, who wouldn't after all? It was probably the first time either of his parents had ever raised their voices to him. "That Potter boy is finally dead and out of our lives forever and I will hear no more of such talk."
Harry's mirth quickly turned to anger at the casual way his so called family apparently viewed his death, as if it were something to be celebrated. Reaching out and taking a quick swipe at the man's head this time he received yet another shock when his hand came into physical contact with his target. He watched with wide eyes as his uncle was pushed sharply to the left by the force of the blow but remained upright solely because of the death grip he currently had on the table's edge.
Due to yet one more surprise being added to all others he had received in the last fifteen minutes or so, he forgot that his 'family' could neither see him nor touch him, and he turned and fled from the house as fast as he could.
Once he was outside his need for information and his confusion continued to grow as well as the fact that he had no way of getting into contact with anyone that may have the answers. 'Floating' all the way to London or to the Weasleys would take quite sometime and he wasn't exactly sure how they would react to him just 'showing up' after he had apparently died.
"Mamma, why is that boy flying?" Harry's head whipped around and stared openmouthed at a little girl who was walking down the street with her mother as she pushed a stroller. The girl's mother looked over in his direction in confusion before continuing their walk, telling her it was just her imagination. Shaking his head, Harry hurried after the small family and fell in beside the little girl. She was probably five or six years old with short brown hair and wide green eyes that were looking him over thoughtfully.
"Um, you can see me?" Harry asked uncertainly. She looked at him as if he were stupid for a moment before nodding.
"Hi, I'm Harry." He introduced himself after breathing a heavy sigh of relief.
"I'm Angela and this is my mummy and this is my baby brother." She responded enthusiastically while her mother looked at her curiously. "Are you a ghost?"
"I think so. I'm not sure though."
"You look like a ghost." Harry just nodded in reply as he tried to think of a way that this could help him. He had someone he could communicate with but being completely surrounded by muggles still left him in a bind especially since the person in question was only six years old.
"MRS. FIGG!" Harry exclaimed.
"The old lady with the cats?" Angela asked as she scratched her nose.
"Yes, do you know her?"
"Mmm hmm. She lives next door to us." Mrs. Figg didn't have enough magic to see Dementors so Harry doubted that she would be able to see or hear a ghost but with Angela acting as a go between he could get some help, Statute of Secrecy be damned.
"Angela, could you ask you mother if you can go see Mrs. Figg? I need to talk to her but no one but you seems to be able to see me." Unfortunately the little girl asked her mother exactly that, word for word. The woman stopped mid-step and bent down to look at her daughter with a kind smile.
"Sweetie, there are no ghosts, its just you imagination running wild again. It happens to everyone from time to time."
"Angela, tell her that I am going to touch her on her right forearm and her left shoulder and that she will feel a numbing cold in those areas." He was very specific so that it couldn't simply be written off as a child predicting a mere breeze. Within seconds they were off again, at a much quicker pace. The older woman looked about quite often as if she thought she was being followed by the police and kept her daughter held tightly to her side. Harry found her reaction to be pretty funny but when he laughed Angela shot him a rather impressive glare. Apparently she was not enjoying the tight hold her mother had on her.
"What did she mean when she said that your imagination was running wild 'again'?" Harry asked curiously.
"What? Oh," The girl continued after a moments thought. "Sometimes I can talk to birds."
"Not all birds, just some birds." In no time at all they were rushing up to Mrs. Figg's front door, forcing many of her cats to scramble out of their way. Angela's mom rapped on the stout wooden door rapidly as she looked around once again, probably to make sure she wasn't being followed by cameras from some ridiculous prank TV show.
"Sarah, how..." Mrs. Figg was cut off as 'Sarah' pushed her stroller through the door passed the old woman with Angela and Harry following. The old woman looked outside for a brief moment before closing the door and turning to her 'guests' with confusion and a little concern. "Sarah, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost?" This remark caused two things that the woman found odd, given the circumstance. Angela burst out laughing and Sarah, a woman she knew to show no fear of anything, paled dramatically. Harry had planned on having Sarah explain simply because he thought it would be hilarious watching her flounder around the issue but seeing her now he decided against that.
"Ma'am, I see a ghost named Harry and he says he needs to talk to you." Angela spoke up immediately. Apparently she also noticed that her mother would be of little help at the moment. Arabella looked at the child in shock for a moment as her eyes went wide.
"Does, does Harry have a last name?" She choked out, not really wanting to know the answer.
"Potter." The old woman backed up slowly until she fell into a chair with tears falling down her cheeks. It was now Sarah's turn to be concerned as she looked at the state of her old neighbor. She just knew it was a bad idea to come.
"Arabella, are you alright, oh, that's a stupid question, of course you not."
"Its alright dear, it was just a bit of a shock."
"Who is Harry Potter?"
"That's right, you haven't been here long enough to have known him. He's a boy I looked after when he was younger. He was killed about four months ago."
"FOUR MONTHS!" Harry shouted in surprise. After telling the girl roughly what had happened in the last hour she told the two older women although her mother was beginning to look doubtful once again.
"You say he remembers dieing and then suddenly he's here, four months later?"
"Yes, yes, this is all utterly fascinating," Harry grumbled as Mrs. Figg began to ponder how he had no memory of the last four months. "Angela, tell her this, word for word so that she knows it's me..."
"Harry says," She paused as she looked at her mother nervously. "Enough with the bloody speculation, just have someone get their ass over here so that they can HELP ME!"
"Err, Harry, you know..." The old woman just seemed to leave it hanging as she glanced between Angela and her mother causing Harry to massage the sides of his head. For being dead he was beginning to get one hell of a headache.
"Mrs. Figg," He began and was quickly echoed by Angela. "Forget about the Ministry and their ridiculous rules, I died protecting those petty bureaucrats so they can just shove off."
"Alright, who would you like me to contact?"
"Luna Lovegood." Harry answered after thinking it over for a moment. "She was a year behind me in school." For the time being he would rather keep his 'condition' a secret and Luna was one of the smartest people he knew and she knew of all sorts strange creatures so she would probably know a lot about ghosts and their abilities. He figured that he could have asked for Remus or Hermione but he would rather put those meetings off for a time. Besides, he would prefer to shock as many people as possible and the chances of even this shocking Luna were remote. She just seemed to take everything in stride without getting excited.
"A year behind you? Then she is probably in class at the moment but I suppose I could get her here soon if I make it clear that it is an urgent matter."
"Ok, but don't tell anyone what this is about. I would rather make it a surprise." To make sure she didn't completely freak out, Arabella gave Sarah a crash course on the magical world. For most of the discussion she was looking at the old woman as if she were insane but this quickly turned to shock and a little fear as she threw a handful of powder into the fireplace before sticking her head into the flames that now burned a bright emerald green.
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall sat behind her desk sorting through the mountain of paperwork that seemed to multiply exponentially every minute for the first couple of weeks of a new term.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was finally allowed to reopen for the first time since the death of Albus Dumbledore now that Voldemort was no longer a threat and she was finding it increasingly difficult to comprehend how the old Headmaster could have possibly juggled his duty with the school as well as his post on the Wizengamont and leading the Order of the Phoenix. Then again she had yet to meet anyone that could rival her old friend at his legendary organizational skills.
Due to the year the school had been closed, the first time in its history this had happened, the first year class was a bit lopsided in its ages but it seemed that with Voldemort on the loose parents of younger children had taken their education into their own hands so most of them could keep up with their older classmates. Those that could not, as well as the new muggleborn students were being brought up to speed quickly by their peers. There had been some debate as to whether they should simply raise the age of admittance to twelve as a way to avoid this problem but considering the older students were now a year behind where they should be in regards to their 'formal' education it was decided to simply let it be since everything would return to normal after the current first years graduated.
The Headmistress briefly glanced over the disciplinary report for the week that the Headgirl, Hermione Granger, had dropped off some minutes before. A few of the brighter students that should have graduated just a few short months ago had the option of sitting for the NEWT exams before the new term started but Hermione and most of the upper class Ravenclaws absolutely refused this opportunity, claiming that they wouldn't be able to get everything they needed for the tests studying on their own as opposed to actually participating in the seventh year classes. Now while this excuse was perfectly legitimate for most of them, McGonagall knew that Hermione was simply hiding.
Since Harry Potter had died, literally moments after killing the Dark Lord, she had been a broken down shell of her former self. She still completed her schoolwork to near perfection and took her duties as Headgirl very seriously but there was no longer any spark, no more enjoyment in her work. She would only answer questions that were directed solely at her and she would never volunteer information during class and the time she spent studying was used merely for distraction instead of the simple enjoyment of learning something new.
Ron Weasley, although he had returned to Hogwarts on September first, had yet to make it to a single class, or even a single meal. The only time he ate was late at night when he could sneak into the kitchens as a way of avoiding the crowds in the Great Hall. They had yet to find where the boy had been sleeping since it was quite clear that he had not set foot in Gryffindor tower since term began.
The magical world as a whole seemed to be taking his death in a great deal more stride than Harry's classmates and professors were. As soon as Voldemort's death was confirmed wizards and witches all across England and mainland Europe where throwing parties, making toasts, and generally having a great time. It was almost an exact replay of their reaction after the first war only this time it wasn't James and Lily's deaths they had forgotten, but Harry's. The boy died protecting them but they didn't seem to care.
Voldemort was dead and that was all that mattered to them. It disgusted her to think that, just maybe, many of those people believed that it was Harry's job to fight Tom Riddle for them so that they wouldn't have to and if he died doing it, then so be it, as long as he took the mutated wizard with him, he served his purpose.
"Minerva? Minerva, are you there?" McGonagall jumped slightly at the unexpected intrusion into her thoughts but was a bit surprised to see Arabella Figg's head in her fireplace with a distressed look on her face.
"'Bella, What's wrong?"
"'Wrong' would be a bad word to use right now, shocking is more appropriate, I think. Well, something has come up and I am in need of the services of one of your students."
"Which one, and why? I can't simply allow an underage student to leave school grounds without proper staff supervision." McGonagall asked in a deceptively calm tone.
"A miss Luna Lovegood. As for why, that is difficult to explain. From what I understand, she has a unique way of looking at things. There is a certain, um... person, here that is in need of her expertise." Suddenly Arabella's head disappeared from the flames only to return moments later.
"He assures me that you are most welcome as well if you feel that security is an issue." Minerva was by no means a master at Legillamency, and performing it over the Floo only makes it much more difficult, but she could tell that her old friend was certain that there was no danger.
"Alright," She spoke up after a few moments of thought. "Well be through shortly."
"Thank you, Minerva!"
Almost as soon as she pulled her head out of the fire, Harry approached his old babysitter and proceeded to poke her in the shoulder repeatedly as he concentrated and the task, causing her to shudder.
"Harry, stop that!" She snapped but yelped suddenly when instead of the numbing cold, she felt as if someone had poked her with their finger.
"HA!" Harry shouted as he threw his arms in the air in excitement.
"What the hell was that?" She demanded, taking no notice that she probably shouldn't use such language with a child in the room.
"Um, Harry said that he was able to slap his uncle on the head so he wanted to see if he could do it again." Angela explained.
"He can touch things? But no ghost can do that!" The old woman responded in much the same way that Harry thought Hermione would react if you told her that you could apperate on Hogwarts grounds. Just for fun, Harry decided to pick up one of Mrs. Figg's cats and 'fly' it around the room for a moment. The cat didn't really seem to care but his owner and Sarah were watching in shock while Angela giggled until the fireplace flared.
Harry immediately dropped the cat and moved to an out of the way position. Anyone coming through would no doubt have their attention on the people in front of them, leaving him out of their line of sight, at least for a few moments.
In no time at all, Professor McGonagall stepped gracefully out of the fire with Luna following a few seconds behind. He cursed his luck when Luna immediately turned her attention to him, almost as if she knew exactly where to find him. As he thought, she gave no outward sign of surprise, just a small smile. She didn't say anything, just turned her attention elsewhere, assuming that he was standing out of sight for a reason.
"Now that we are here, would you kindly explain why you need Ms. Lovegood?" McGonagall asked. With a large grin Harry moved up behind the Headmistress and lightly cupped her backside, giving it a gentle squeeze. He was surprised to find that it was actually quite firm. With a gasp, she spun around with her hand raised...
"Hi, Professor!" Harry greeted with a grin. The transfiguration master screamed and jumped backwards only to trip over the low coffee table. She lay sprawled on the floor looking up at Harry in shock and horror while Mrs. Figg had tears streaming down her face, at having the idea seemingly confirmed, and Angelina giggled. Luna looked on with a wide eyed expression, taking more surprise in the unflappable professor's reaction than coming face to face with a friend that's been dead for several months.
Sarah looked nearly catatonic at having so many beliefs crumbling out from under her. Her daughter believing that she saw a ghost? Well, she is a child after all, and children have much more active imaginations than adults. The chilling cold she felt outside could be explained in a rational manner as could the green fire, the powder Arabella threw into it could certainly cause such an effect. But the old woman putting HER HEAD into the flames was definitely not normal and when a proud looking woman in green tartan robes stepped out of the fire a few minutes later her mind just sort of shut down.
"Ha... Harry?" McGonagall gut out after stuttering for a few moments, temporarily forgetting that she had just been goosed for the first time in decades.
"Yes, Professor?" Harry responded with wide 'innocent' eyes.
"LUNA!" He shouted out happily before charging forward and embracing the young witch. THIS, however, did surprise her.
"Harry, did you just hug me?" She asked while blinking stupidly. McGonagall shot back to her feet and voiced the very same question.
"Yes, I did. But first, do either of you know of any spell or anything that would allow Mrs. Figg and Angela's mum to see me as well?"
"She's a muggle?" McGonagall asked a bit nervously. She was one hundred percent in favor of the magical world remaining hidden but she was also opposed to using memory charms on people unless absolutely necessary.
"Yes she is, but her daughter is obviously a witch!"
"I AM?" The little girl gasped, thinking about some of the more unusual things that have happened around her.
"You can see and hear ghosts and you can talk to birds. I think those are pretty good indicators."
"Um, right! Well, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid that if there is such a spell, then I don't know it!" Despite his current lack of physical form, he found the older woman's nearly dumbfounded attitude to be rather amusing.
"Okay, then can either of you please tell me why I am obviously dead but still able to interact with the physical world? Because the only ghost I've ever met that could is Peeves."
"Peeves isn't a ghost, he's a poltergeist!"
"What's the difference, besides the obvious?"
"A ghost is obviously a deceased person. Their spirit is trapped in this plane for any number of reasons. A poltergeist was never human. They are entities that are created by an extreme amount of magic or emotions centered on a specific location. Most of them actually appear in the muggle world, usually in schools, hospitals or prisons, where the emotional influence is the most extreme, but they are usually exorcized rather quickly unless they don't cause many problems.
"The location itself, and the emotions involved determine the poltergeist's personality. Whether it is anger, frustration, happiness or even maliciousness. Peeves, I think, is a combination of all of these but his malicious streak is usually tempered by his other characteristics leading him to commit his acts through horribly embarrassing pranks instead of openly trying to injure or kill someone which is the reason that he is allowed to continue on as he is instead of being exorcized by the Ministry." Luna explained in her usual dreamy voice.
"Ok, but then what the hell am I?"
"You're a living ghost, of course. You're not alive, but you're not dead either, not completely at any rate. I believe that this is what your ridiculous prophecy referred to."
"What? How did you know about that? Not even Ron and Hermione knew!" Harry exclaimed loudly before just continuing on. Luna was just looking at him without blinking as if he had just asked the most ridiculous question she had ever heard and he decided that he really didn't want to know. "That prophecy said that 'Neither can live while the other survives'. In case you haven't realized, Luna, neither of us survived."
"No, neither of you were really living to begin with. Voldemort was living in fear of his death and he had been trying to kill you your entire life. One of you clearly had to go. If he won, then he would be free to act with impunity, doing whatever he wanted without opposition. And if you won, and survived, you would still be better off dead. Let's face it Harry, never in your life have you been free to truly be yourself. Ronald and Hermione have been your best friends for six years but they don't know the real you. No one does."
"Yes they do, I would never hold back on them."
"No, they don't." The Ravenclaw disagreed. "They know who you have been forced to become. Forced by the anger and hatred of your relatives, forced by the constant presence of Voldemort and forced by the expectations everyone seems to have had for you. You have been actively restraining your true nature your entire life out of necessity to the point where even you don't know who you truly are. You have never been free to be yourself. Neither with your family and certainly not in the magical world. Now, that is different. Your body is dead, but you can still interact with those around you. You can 'live' without the expectations of others and without responsibilities except those that you chose to accept. The simple truth of the matter is that you are more alive now than you have ever been before."
At first, Harry didn't agree with her but the more he thought about it while reflecting on his life the more he began to see that she was right. The fact that he couldn't be himself at the Dursleys was obvious. But upon his 'return' to the magical world it was apparent what everyone expected of him, and he tried to live up to them, to prove that he belonged for the simple reason that he had never felt like he belonged anywhere. Everyone always had certain expectations of him and when he deviated from that path they were quick to judge and ridicule him.
Reviewing the last hour or so, he felt a great deal of confusion and frustration over the situation, for the sole reason that he had no idea what was going on as opposed to the fact that he was obviously dead. And despite this fact, he realized that Luna was right, he did 'feel' more alive than he had previously, feeling so much unlike himself, or perhaps he was feeling like himself for the first time. In the past he never would have found amusement in Mrs. Figg's or Sarah's reaction to a ghost, much less his ghost, or McGonagall's for that matter after having seeing him. And he certainly wouldn't have grabbed her bum. Which he thoroughly enjoyed, by the way.
Was this his true personality coming to the surface? Was he some kind of mischievous pervert?
He was about to shake off this last thought when the idea of corrupting an entire generation of young witches popped into his head. He had the ability to be a whole lot more than just a simple Peeping Tom such as Moaning Myrtle.
'Crap, I am a pervert!' He thought to himself in resignation. 'On the plus side, I would never take advantage of a girl or violate them in any way. Well, except for maybe a quick peek or a pinch on the bum, anyway.' He amended before turning his attention back to Luna who was just waiting patiently for him to put his thoughts in order. The look in her eyes gave him the uncomfortable feeling that she knew exactly what he had been thinking.
"Okay, well since you seem to know so much about spirits and such, could you tell me how I am supposed to get from here to Hogwarts. The Floo and portkeys are apparently out of the question, after all."
"How are you moving now?" The question itself seemed to be a bit stupid but the look she was giving him indicated that she questioned HIS intellectual capacity.
"Err, um, I just concentrate on the direction I want to go!"
"Then why not head for Hogwarts and concentrate on moving faster. Or possibly try to apperate."
"I'm a ghost, Luna. Ghosts can't apperate. Um, can they?"
"Normally they can't, but you're not exactly a normal ghost, now are you?"
"Right, good point!" He muttered to himself before vanishing and reappearing on the other side of the room where Mrs. Figg and McGonagall were trying to explain the situation to Sarah who looked about one step away from a nervous breakdown.
"Professor, I would suggest a calming charm just about now, she looks like she is ready to crack."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter, but I have done this before." The Headmistress responded tightly.
"I'm sure you have, but most of the family of muggleborns are so receptive to the idea because they have had years of experience with 'odd' things happening with their children, so the idea isn't THAT hard to grasp. Judging by Angela's age, her magic probably hasn't manifested itself that much so the idea of anything supernatural would be that much harder for her family to accept.
Muggles for the most part only know of magic from ridiculous fantasy novels or strange cults where people dance naked around bonfires covered in sheep's blood before having a massive orgy. I would suggest showing the woman some real magic, nothing to fancy really, just something to get her mind off virgin sacrifices and orgies. Although," He continued in a thoughtful tone while looking Sarah up and down. "An orgy might not be such a bad idea."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter!" She repeated, thought this time there was a very sharp edge to it.
"Your welcome. Oh, one more thing, in a situation like this, talking to someone she can neither see nor hear is probably not the best thing to do. While she may be questioning her own sanity right now she also probably questioning yours."
Looking out over the Great Hall that evening, Headmistress McGonagall had her doubts about the announcement she was preparing to make. While she would be perfectly happy to simply let things play out as they may, she was also sure that it would do the student body good to simply get it out in the open as soon as possible instead of letting Potter ambush various unsuspecting students for his own amusement.
She was greatly shocked at the changes that death seemed to have brought the boy and she was almost certain that she didn't want another Peeves in the castle but she couldn't bring herself to keep him out. For one, she didn't know how and for another, if Ms. Lovegood's theory was correct, than this is the first time that he has ever truly been himself, a fact that she held herself partially responsible for since she allowed Albus to leave him with those dreadful muggles.
She was sure that he wouldn't harm any of the students but there were several she was concerned about, nonetheless. His arrival could cause the few close friends he allowed himself a lot of emotional pain and they hadn't been taking his death well at all as it was. On the other hand it could bring them some measure of closer. Hermione Granger, the two youngest Weasley children and Remus Lupin, who had returned as Defense Professor, were chief among her concerns.
She was just about to start her announcement when she noticed the door begin to close, very slowly, as if to avoid the action being noticed. She jumped to her feet and drew her wand, afraid that this could be some kind of attack, when those doors were suddenly thrown open again with a great amount of force. The movement, and the thunderous noise it created, drew everyone's attention, many standing and leveling their wand at anyone that may come through.
For several long moments everyone either stood or sat in silence, not moving, waiting for the inevitable conflict. The fear that permeated the room quickly turned shock however when Harry floated into the room. He grinned when the clattered of several wands hit the floor as those holding them either fell back into their seat or passed out completely.
"HI YA Hogwarts!" He greeted with enthusiasm.