20th December 1998
It was a quiet day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The last day of school before the Christmas holidays was usually a time in which the students were the loudest, exited and looking forward to visiting their parents or having free time at the castle.
This time however, many students quietly packed their bags to go home, without the usual laughter accompanying them. They simply wanted to get out of the castle, to leave the painful memories behind.
The worst part: This silence filled almost every day. The older the students, the less they'd laugh or chatter with their friends.
Sir Nicholas De Mimsy-Porpington sighed as he looked at the list of the students that were going to leave the castle, pinned on the blackboard of the Gryffindor common room.
He counted the names. 56.
Out of the 58 students that were currently part of Gryffindor house, only 2 would stay over the holidays.
With a hollow feeling in his transparent stomach, he turned around and gazed at the empty common room.
It was a rare sight.
The red and golden banners were glimmering, the fire in the fireplace crackled peacefully, and everything had the same beautiful, home-y atmosphere as always.
But never in the many hundred years that Sir Nicholas De Mimsy-Porpington had spent as a ghost of Hogwarts, had the Gryffindor common room been empty after the last lesson before the holidays.
It couldn't continue like this.
Despite getting new first years, and despite many students repeating their last school year due to missing it because of the war, the castle had never felt so empty.
No matter how many students swarmed through the halls of the castle, it still felt empty. Cold. Sad.
The house ghost of Gryffindor couldn't take it anymore.
He loved his fellow Gryffindors, and he'd always felt the need to protect them, but it seemed as if he failed.
He wasn't able to protect them from sadness.
So he came to a decision.
With determination running through his ghostly veins, and his head swaying dangerously much, he rushed through the picture of the Fat Lady.
The empty corridors only strengthened his determination and he floated even faster, until he reached his destination.
He wondered whether the other ghosts even remembered this object, but Sir Nicholas figured that it was an emergency and worth a try.
He was in the dungeons, in a room that could be considered the common room of the ghosts of Hogwarts, although they'd never really used it.
It was grey and only formed by naked stone, because every ghost preferred to stay at their house or place of death within the castle.
Noone cared to decorate the circular room, with grey armchairs in front of the wall, and a round table with one certain object occupying the centre of the room.
Sir Nicholas didn't care either and floated straight towards the wooden table. He grabbed the little transparent drumstick laying on it and slammed it against the silvery-white cymbal without a second thought.
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Mischief Not Managed Yet
Fanfiction~In which the marauders become ghosts of Hogwarts~ Hogwarts Castle is cursed. At least, that's what the ghosts and teachers say. After the second Wizarding War, Hogwarts was destroyed and many lives were lost. Hogwarts could be rebuilt, but one cou...
