"So, you're telling me you're a ghost?!"
The next morning found a yawning Tom being dragged into the Great Hall by an energetic Hannah, clearly having gotten insufficient sleep after his late-night crafting session.
Hermione and Ariana were already waiting at the Hufflepuff table, having arrived at some unknown earlier hour. They sat close together, heads bent in quiet conversation that stopped the moment Hannah and Tom approached.
The Great Hall was remarkably empty for breakfast time, perhaps because Hufflepuff students could summon house-elves to deliver food directly to their common room, many had chosen to eat in comfortable pajamas rather than trek upstairs to the main dining area.
Despite having Charms class with Slytherin scheduled for first period, only a handful of yellow-trimmed students dotted the long table.
This sparse attendance made the presence of two Gryffindor girls at the Hufflepuff table stand out rather conspicuously. But the low population also offered a advantage: privacy.
Few enough people were present that quiet conversations wouldn't be overheard, and those who were there were too focused on their own breakfasts and morning grogginess to pay attention to others' discussions.
This was almost certainly why Ariana had chosen this particular location for this particular conversation.
After consulting with Dumbledore the last night, Ariana had made her decision: she would tell her two closest friends the truth about her nature which led directly to Hannah's shocked exclamation and current expression of astonishment.
Hannah had very nearly shrieked the question loud enough to draw attention from the entire Hall. Fortunately, after her discussion with Hermione the previous night where they'd compared notes and observations about Ariana's various oddities, she'd been mentally prepared for some kind of revelation.
The preparation gave her just enough self-control to throttle her voice down to something resembling an indoor volume, though her eyes remained as wide as Galleons.
She'd expected maybe a curse. Some kind of magical sickness that prevented physical contact with objects, like the cursed king in that fairy tale her mother had read to her as a child—the one who turned everything he touched to gold and nearly starved because of it.
A ghost, though? That possibility had never even entered her mental catalogue of explanations.
Ariana was a ghost wizard? A ghost student attending classes alongside the living?
Merlin's socks, this was even more shocking than having a cat as a classmate!
After all, cats are living beings, while ghosts… rather than being living beings, they were more like clumsy imitations of their past lives, beings incapable of true growth or change.
Could something like that actually learn magic?
But then Hannah's gaze returned to Ariana herself—to the girl who looked perfectly normal, perfectly solid, showing none of the telltale translucence or pearlescent shimmer that marked ghosts throughout Hogwarts.
If ghosts could produce something as anomalous as Peeves that inexplicable poltergeist who defied every rule about what ghosts should be capable of then perhaps having one ghost wizard who could attend classes wasn't that strange after all.
Magic had always been a land of exceptions to its own rules.
"But is it okay to tell us?" Hermione asked with some concern. "This seems like it should be confidential information. Shouldn't this kind of secret stay with... I don't know, the Headmaster and the professors?"
Her tone carried genuine worry—not about the secret itself, but about whether knowing it might put Ariana at risk somehow. And logically, shouldn't this be kept from ordinary young wizards like them?
"Don't worry!" Ariana's expression relaxed into a reassuring smile. She even reached up to pat her own chest in emphasis displaying a "no problem" look.
After her conversation with Tom, she'd gone directly to Dumbledore's office. Without his approval, she wouldn't have rashly told anyone else about this.
"Of course," Ariana continued, "you two are special. You're my friends. So, this information absolutely cannot be shared with anyone else! At least not until the Headmaster and the Ministry reach some kind of understanding about my situation. Until then, you have to promise to keep this secret~"
"Don't worry," Hermione declared immediately, sitting up straighter with a fierce determination like someone taking a sacred vow. "I'm not a blabbermouth like Ron. I absolutely won't tell anyone."
Hannah's hand shot up as though answering a question in class, her expression was equally solemn: "Me too! I promise I won't breathe a word to anyone!"
"But wait—" Hannah's hand lowered as a new worry occurred to her. "Is this really going to work? You have Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall this morning, don't you? If you're a ghost who can't touch physical objects, what are you going to do when the Professor has everyone practice transformation spells?"
The Herbology and History of Magic classes Gryffindor had attended so far hadn't required Ariana to directly manipulate much—she could observe plants without touching them, and History of Magic involved only note-taking, which Tom had presumably helped her fake.
But Transfiguration was hands-on by necessity. Students would be expected to physically handle objects, point wands with precision, use magic.
The problem seemed insurmountable.
Tom, who'd been barely conscious moments ago suddenly perked up with the alertness of a cat spotting movement. His ears swiveled forward, whiskers bristling with anticipation.
'Finally! My moment has arrived!'
In one fluid motion, he spun in place. His Hogwarts robes rippled and transformed mid-spin, flowing into a sharp, perfectly tailored suit—black fabric with subtle pinstripes, crisp white shirt, elegant tie.
He looked like he'd stepped out of a Muggle business magazine, or possibly a very sophisticated cat-food advertisement.
He reached up with one paw to adjust his tie with precision, then cleared his throat importantly in a small ahem sound that was probably meant to draw all attention to him.
His other paw moved toward his inner jacket pocket, clearly preparing to extract his whiteboard and deliver what was no doubt an explanation of his solution to Ariana's tangibility problem. However, just then, Ariana spoke up first:
"Oh, that's fine," Ariana said breezily, not noticing Tom's transformation or swelling theatrics. "Professor McGonagall knows about my situation. She'll help provide cover during class."
"And I'll help too!" Hermione added immediately, nodding with determination. "I'll do whatever I can to assist!"
"Thank you, Hermione." Ariana's smile widened with warmth and gratitude.
"It's nothing, we're friends!"
"Count me in as well!" Hannah chimed in, not wanting to be left out of the alliance. "Whenever Gryffindor shares classes with us, I'll absolutely help cover for you!"
The three girls continued their mutual reassurances, the conversation was transitioning naturally from gratitude to planning to friendly banter about which classes would be easiest to provide cover in.
Meanwhile, Tom remained frozen mid-gesture in his immaculate suit, one paw still raised toward his tie, the other halfway to his pocket. His expression as much as a cat's face could convey complex emotion radiated slowly rising disbelief.
A question mark seemed to appear in the air above his head in cartoon-style.
'You're making me look like an idiot here.'
Fortunately, Ariana glanced sideways and actually registered Tom's presence.
"Oh! Tom, were you about to say something?"
Seeing that the three's attention had finally turned to him, Tom rolled his eyes in annoyance, too lazy to be cool anymore. He snapped his fingers, turning his suit back into a wizard's robe:
[Did you already forget what I told you yesterday?] appeared on his whiteboard in slightly larger letters than usual, suggesting emphasis. [I said I would solve this problem for you!]
"Huh? Really?"
Ariana was taken aback. She had thought Tom was just comforting her yesterday; after all, it was common knowledge that ghosts were merely 'imprints' left in the world, unable to truly interact with the material world.
Even Ariana, who was uniquely conscious and aware compared to other ghosts, still suffered this limitation.
Peeves was the only exception, and even he wasn't technically a ghost, more a peculiar variety of spirit or manifested chaos given semi-physical form. He had no useful comparison point.
The idea that someone could create an item allowing proper ghost-physical world interaction seemed like wishing for the impossible.
[Who do you think I am?] Tom's chest puffed out with pride and whiskers were bristling. [I'm Tom!]
He delivered the declaration with such absolute confidence that it seemed to be meaningful—even though none of the three girls had any context for why that particular name should instigate such conviction. To them, he was just... Tom. Their friend who happened to be a very intelligent cat wizard.
But he said it like revealing a secret identity, like the name itself was supposed to explain everything.
Hermione and Hannah exchanged glances that clearly communicated mutual confusion. The expression of someone who suspected they were missing an important reference but had no idea what that reference might be.
Seeing their skeptical faces, Tom reached into his robes, not the storage he usually used for random items, but an actual pocket he'd specifically sewn into the fabric for this purpose and extracted a pair of gloves.
He held them out toward Ariana.
[Try these on. Then you'll know whether I'm lying or not.]
Ariana cautiously reached out, and when her fingertips actually touched the gloves, the sensation made her freeze on the spot.
Since she became a ghost and was brought back to reality by Tom, this was the first tangible object she could touch (besides Tom).
[Try them on?]
Watching Ariana excitedly yet cautiously accept the gloves, a smile flashed in Tom's eyes.
"Yes!"
Ariana nodded vigorously, carefully putting on the gloves, closing her eyes, and quietly savoring the tangible sensation of touching a real object. Seeing this, Tom thought for a moment, then simply picked up a loaf of bread and placed it in her hand.
Her eyes snapped open immediately.
"I can feel it," she whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "The air moving around it. How soft the bread is. The warmth—it's still warm from the kitchen!"
She turned the roll over and over in her hands, fingers pressing gently to test the give of the crust, the softer interior. Her eyes were bright with undisguised joy.
[Of course, you should see who made this.]
Tom proudly raised his chin, but after a moment, he lowered it again with some regret:
[Unfortunately, this thing is essentially a magical artifact; all its effects are activated by magic. Once the magic stored within is depleted, its effects will weaken significantly.
When they run low, you'll probably only be able to pick up very light objects like matches, feathers, that sort of thing. You'll still be able to grip your wand, but it'll be more difficult, require more concentration.
And because I didn't have access to better materials—I had to use parchment as the base which limits its magic storage capacity; the gloves can only store enough magic to last about two to three hours before needing to be recharged.]
His tail twitched with dissatisfaction.
[Don't worry, though. Once I can source proper materials, I'll make you a better pair with more capacity, more durability, better overall performance.]
For anyone with even basic understanding of magical artificing or alchemy, Tom's casual explanation would have been absolutely earth-shattering.
They would be speechless with shock upon hearing this.
Allowing ghosts to interact with physical reality? That alone defied conventional understanding of magical theory. Using parchment—ordinary writing material as a reservoir for magical energy? It was absurd.
The fact that the items retained any functionality even after their stored power depleted, rather than becoming completely inert. That alone violated every principle of magical object enchantment.
This wasn't just a clever magical tool. Even Merlin himself, in his legendary prime, might have struggled to create artifacts with these properties using those materials.
Unfortunately, Tom's audience consisted of three first-year students with one month of magical education between them. They possessed no framework for understanding the significance of what he'd just casually described. They nodded along with expressions of vague comprehension, absorbing the information as "gloves need recharging sometimes".
"That's fine—two or three hours is plenty," Ariana said, her tone was reassuring rather than disappointed.
She was still marveling at the bread roll in her hands, apparently unable to stop touching things now that touching was possible. "As long as I'm careful about when I use them, I can make them last through morning classes. That's more than enough."
[No, wait—] Tom saw the misunderstanding forming and moved quickly to correct it.
[I meant you can recharge them when the power runs low. If you find a professor willing to channel some magic into them, they'll work perfectly again. Or if you have sufficient magical reserves yourself, you could recharge them personally.]
That had been one of his primary design considerations—making the gloves easily rechargeable rather than single-use items. Convenience and sustainability. If the gloves could only work for one class period before becoming permanently useless, they'd fail their entire purpose.
[Though ,just in case, I still recommend having a professor handle the recharging when possible.]
The subsequent conversation washed over Hermione without her truly processing the words.
Her mind had caught on a single phrase Tom had mentioned and refused to move past it:
"I didn't have access to better materials."
'Better materials,' she thought. 'He needs better materials to improve the gloves. Materials he doesn't currently have access to.'
Her thoughts drifted to a recent visit, back when she'd still been on speaking terms with Harry and Ron before their midnight rule-breaking had driven a wedge between them.
They'd gone to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and she'd seen the incredible variety of materials Hagrid kept.
Hagrid with his love of dangerous beasts and his position as groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor, had accumulated an extraordinary collection of rare magical materials over his decades at Hogwarts. Materials that someone like Tom would probably find invaluable.
'But Harry and Ron...'
Hermione's expression tightened slightly.
She was still angry with them. The memory of their reckless midnight adventure, dragging her along to break school rules for no good reason, risking House points they'd all worked to earn, treating regulations like inconvenient suggestions still burned like a fresh coal in her chest.
She'd been planning to give them the cold shoulder for at least another week. But then her gaze shifted to Ariana, who was gently pressing one gloved finger against her water goblet, testing the sensation of smooth glass under her touch, her entire face lit with wonder at the simple act of feeling something solid.
Hermione sighed.
'Fine. I'll ask Harry if he can arrange for Tom to visit Hagrid next time he goes. Just this once. For Ariana's sake, not because I've forgiven them.'
She was doing this for her friend. For the girl who'd trusted her enough to reveal an incredible secret. For someone who genuinely needed help and deserved better than what her circumstances had given her.
Not because she'd softened toward those rule-breaking boys.
Definitely not that.
[Alright, we should head to class,] Tom announced, checking the clock visible through the Great Hall's entrance. The hands were creeping close to the hour. [We don't want to be late.]
He turned his attention specifically to Ariana, his expression becoming more serious.
[Also, Ariana. If you have any thoughts about the gloves, anything that feels uncomfortable, any functions you wish they had, any problems that come up during use, please tell me. I'll incorporate your feedback when I make the next version.]
"I will!" Ariana agreed immediately, curling and uncurling her fingers experimentally, still getting used to the sensation of actually gripping things. "Thank you, Tom."
In the morning light streaming through the Hall's high windows, Ariana looked indistinguishable from any other first-year student—excited about classes, eager to learn magic, anticipating the day ahead.
No one watching would suspect anything unusual about her.
The four friends gathered their belongings and left the Great Hall together, emerging into corridors that were growing steadily busier as more students finished breakfast and headed toward their respective classrooms.
At the main corridor intersection, they paused and walked in opposite directions, heading towards their respective classrooms.