Lucien stepped out of the Ravenclaw common room early the next morning, heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
He rubbed his throbbing temples. The headache still hadn't eased up.
The feeling was familiar—the same skull-splitting ache he'd gotten after draining his magic to grow the youth apple seeds. It felt like a gang of trolls was hammering drums inside his head; every step made his temples throb.
Truth was, he still wasn't sure if last night's first attempt at the Patronus Charm had been a success or a total failure.
He only remembered speaking the incantation and feeling his magic suddenly ignite. It had gone wild, surging uncontrollably toward his wand.
Then came the voices—cheers, laughter, pure delight—flooding straight into his mind.
After that… nothing. Like he'd blacked out, or maybe the voices had simply taken over his thoughts.
When he finally came to, it was already morning.
He'd crawled out of the suitcase to find Terry's bed neatly made and his roommate nowhere in sight—probably already off to the library. A note waited on the desk in Terry's handwriting:
"Mate, that mist was wicked cool! Getting wrapped up in it felt so weird and good—like the first time my parents took me to the Quidditch World Cup…"
Lucien shook his head, folded the note, and slipped it into his pocket.
The headache made clear thinking impossible, but at least he had no classes this morning. No risk of being late.
He'd barely made it down the Ravenclaw tower stairs when he heard a shrill, off-key song echoing around the corner.
"Last night was strange and scary—ghostly mist filled the whole castle, but it brought joy and sweet dreams… how very, very weird…"
The voice rose and fell like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
Another softer, drifting voice cut in.
"Could you please give my necklace back? I need it for class…"
The song stopped. The shrill voice returned, dripping with glee.
"Ooh~ so this is your necklace? Made out of corks! Mmm, and it still smells like butterbeer—I'm not giving it back, because you forgot to call me 'Mr. Peeves'—"
Lucien rounded the corner and followed the sound.
A small, floating figure hovered in mid-air.
The face was ridiculous—wide, bulging eyes, features all squashed together in a permanently mischievous, punchable grin.
His clothes were nothing like the plain white robes of normal ghosts. He wore a loud, clown-bright outfit complete with a crooked tie and a silly hat, but his slippers were split wide open, toes wiggling nonstop inside.
Lucien narrowed his eyes. Peeves.
Not a regular ghost—this was a poltergeist, the same chaotic prank entity that had existed at Hogwarts since the castle was built.
Unlike ordinary spirits, Peeves could touch solid objects and move them. Right now he was swinging a necklace made of bottle corks, refusing to let go.
It was exactly why he loved tormenting students and teachers. Most people at Hogwarts had suffered his tricks at one point or another.
Lucien's gaze dropped to the small girl desperately reaching up for the necklace.
Long, dark golden-brown hair fell to her waist. Her wide silver eyes looked almost translucent against her pale, almost see-through skin.
Luna Lovegood.
She stood on tiptoe, arm stretched out, face calm and serious—like having her necklace stolen was just another Tuesday.
Peeves was about to keep teasing her when he suddenly sniffed the air like a dog catching a new scent. He spun around.
The moment he spotted Lucien, his ridiculous face lit up with pure delight.
He dropped Luna, shot over in a flash, and shoved his big face right up to Lucien's—close enough that their noses almost touched.
"Do you know who pulled off that brilliant prank last night?" Peeves blinked his round eyes, voice thick with admiration. "I loved what that guy did. Really livened up the whole castle!"