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Game of Thrones White Dragon Rising
Game of Thrones The Sun Dragon Descends
Peeves darted left and right, leaning in to study Lucien's face before suddenly flipping backward through the air and floating over to the corridor window.
"Ah, I remember you now—you're Lu—Lucien, Lucien Grafton!" His voice shot up a notch. "Those Weasley twins are always yapping about you, ha! But you're way too serious for your own good. Boring as half the sixth- and seventh-years. No wonder they stuck you in Ravenclaw…"
"Never mind, never mind. A straight-laced, dull little wizard like you wouldn't know how fun last night's prank was. It was brilliant! Even the ghosts got hit. Moaning Myrtle stopped crying in the toilets, and the Grey Lady actually smiled at people…"
Peeves's nonstop chatter made Lucien's headache flare up again. His temples throbbed.
Mist? What mist?
"Peeves! There you are! Always darting around causing trouble!"
A sharp voice cut through Lucien's thoughts and shut Peeves up instantly.
A gaunt ghost drifted straight out of the wall.
His eyes were hollow and staring. Silver bloodstains dotted his long robes, glinting coldly in the morning light.
Shackles hung from his wrists and ankles, but chains meant for the living couldn't hold a ghost.
"Oh, Baron, sir, what brings you—" Peeves's voice cracked, suddenly high and nervous. "Ah, just remembered I've got somewhere to be! Bye!"
He shot off down the corridor like a rocket, hat tumbling off his head in his panic.
Even after he'd flown a good distance, Peeves noticed the hat was gone. He casually tossed Luna's necklace aside, reached back, and the hat flew straight into his hand—like it was part of his body, not magic at all.
Then he faded out, erased like a smudge on a chalkboard, and vanished around the corner.
The necklace, however, sailed in a perfect arc toward the open window, headed straight for the grass outside the castle.
Luna could only watch it fly away, about to embrace its freedom on the lawn below.
"Accio necklace."
The quiet spell rang out.
Luna saw the necklace freeze mid-air, caught by an invisible hand. A second later it shot straight into Lucien's open palm.
She blinked. He hadn't even pulled out his wand—just spoke the words and gave a small gesture, like calling over an obedient bird.
"Is this yours?" Lucien asked.
Luna snapped out of it and stepped forward to take the necklace.
"Thank you. Otherwise I would've been late for morning classes hunting it down."
Lucien waved it off—no thanks needed. His head was still pounding, and he couldn't quite wrap his mind around why the girl needed a necklace made of butterbeer corks to go to class.
Butterbeer corks… butterbeer… man, he was suddenly thirsty.
He shook the random thoughts away and glanced toward the end of the corridor. The gaunt ghost was already sinking back into the wall, the silver bloodstains on his robes flickering in the shadows.
The Bloody Baron—Slytherin's house ghost.
No one knew exactly why, but Peeves was terrified of him.
Lucien turned to leave.
"That mist," Luna said suddenly, her voice soft and drifting, "did you make it, Lucien?"
Lucien stopped mid-step and looked back, surprise flickering across his face.
"What?"
Luna tilted her head. Her clear silver eyes locked onto his, like she was trying to see past his skin and straight into something deeper.
"That mist… it felt a lot like you."
"On the outside you seem one way, but deep down you're actually a very happy person. That's nice."
Lucien stood there, stunned.
Luna smiled, her big eyes crinkling. "I hope you stay that happy forever."
The comment came out of nowhere. Even on a good day Lucien probably wouldn't have followed Luna's train of thought, and right now his head was killing him.
He was completely lost.
So… what the hell actually happened last night?