Magical Hogwarts

Grinning, Ari looked at Renata. He enjoyed it immensely when his words had the desired effect. The girl was being dramatic now and Ari wasn’t entirely sure if she really meant it.

“No, why would I?” He said calmly. “Just imagine you had a pimple on your nose when you died and you’d keep that pimple for all eternity. Imagine the nicknames you’d get.” He bit his lips to stop himself from laughing out loud but he couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

Did he think that ghosts still learned? If so they could become the most knowledgeable kind ever. Only witnessing things over time gave them a vast experience but then even being able to study would put them far ahead of any geniuses there were. If that was possible, Ari assumed, there’d be tons of books ghostwritten on ghostly thoughts.

This was such an interesting topic. Ari had stopped walking, wanting to focus solely on the question they were discussing now.

“I’m not sure,” he said after giving her question some consideration. “I think, maybe, they don’t have a proper long term memory. I mean, imagine you keep all information in your head. It might get overloaded. Maybe they only remember stuff from their lives and then recent things but not much between their death and the present time?”

As they stalked past creeping shadows of the night, Renata felt the cool, damp air of this Manor clinging to her skin. Ari spoke words that hung like spectral whispers; a somber symphony he refused to take back. Renata found herself bristling with an almost supernatural urge to strike him. To snap him out of this morbid reverie. She drew her arms tight across her chest, her lips forming a pout as ghostly as a tomb’s entrance. “Such an abomination would never size me, for I am untouched by the mortal blemish of a pimple,” she declared, her head bobbing with weighty determination.

The thought of being ensnared with dreadfully plain vestments for eternity, or worse, scarred by imperishable acne, stirred a fear in her heart, a fear that was uncharacteristic for someone who regularly danced with macabre concepts.

Suddenly, the wizard ceased his strides, like a specter frozen by a phantom sunbeam, and a haunting smile crept across Renata’s face. She reveled in the attention she’d earned. The prior conversation, those bone chilling notions Ari had posited, began to recede into the foggy recesses of her memory. Renata watched how his lips moved as they formed each word. She found herself bewitched by the possibilities he was weaving into the midnight air. It brought a nod from her, “I concur,” she responded, her voice clear and true. Ari’s theory stood the tallest in their graveyard of ideas. Surely, no entity, living or departed, could harbor an eternity worth of knowledge, memories, and dreams.

Ari continued, his voice breaking through the moonlit gloom of the forsaken hallway. “I imagine it largely depends on the spectral entity’s priorities. Significant events, laden with emotion and impact, would likely be more easily retained than the humdrum aspects of daily existence.” Renata sighed, she found herself yearning for the echoes of the mundane to dissipate from her existence. She hungered for a life swept in shades of the macabre, a life painted in dramatic hues that would eclipse the tedious monotone of her current reality. She sighed again, louder this time, as her eyes lifted to meet his gaze once more. “Do you covet the spectral shroud of eternity, Ari?”

“Yeah, right,” Ari said, grinning at his friend. It was true, though, Renata had nice skin. He had noticed it before, especially in comparison with some other students in their year. Ari himself sometimes had pimples himself but he had a good potion that he applied as soon as he noticed a blemish and it helped him fairly well.

“Yes,” the boy nodded appreciating Renata’s thoughts on the matter. It was great to have someone to talk to about such things. Someone that would not roll their eyes and change the topic to something lighter.

“You’re right, I’m sure that ghosts will remember some outstanding events. Then again, you said: laden with emotion, do you think that ghosts really feel emotions strongly? I would say that without a proper body with all its functions, emotions won’t be as strong either. They wouldn’t feel a shudder run down their spine, for example, would they?”

He scratched his head absently, before going on, “what about a ghost’s senses, by the way? They obviously can still see and hear. But they cannot feel, taste and I’m not sure about smell.” Shaking his head slowly, Ari came to the conclusion that, as a ghost, you could defy time (which was really cool) but you paid a heavy price for it.

A soft chuckle fluttered from Renata’s lips, an ethereal melody echoing through the night air. Naturally, Renata took Ari’s two simple words as a compliment, and she felt her cheeks warming. Ari had nice skin too, she thought, taking a moment to glance at him with a little twinkle in her dark eyes. A fluttering warmth rose within Renata’s chest as her gaze lingered. Their shared exploration of the realm of the spectral was a dark solace in the sea of monotony. Each question, each speculation, seemed like a thread, tying their destinies together in a shared tapestry of macabre fascination.

Renata found herself drawn in deeper as he pondered the emotional depth of spectral entities. His curiosity, his capacity for such profound thought, stirred feelings within her. “But Ari, the essence of a ghost might be emotion,” Renata began. Clasping her hands behind her as they delved deeper into the topic, Renata beamed with enthusiasm. “Just because they lack physical form doesn’t mean their feelings are muted. Perhaps the lack of corporeal senses amplifies emotional ones?” Renata had often contemplated death, and how the afterlife might feel, and it was full of possibilities. She imagined that without physical sensations, emotions became a ghost’s primary conduit for experiencing the world.

As Ari pondered the sensory capabilities of ghosts, Renata found herself hanging on to his every word. The mystery in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, it was fascinating. “Perhaps, Ari,” she responded, her voice a mere whisper, “the ghostly existence is its own form of allure.” Unburdened by mortality, ghosts witnessed the ebb and flow of time. “Don’t you see a certain captivating charm in the defiance of time itself?”

He hadn’t answered her question, and Renata pouted as if he had done it on purpose. She watched him, his curious gaze reflecting in the moon’s gentle light, and wondered if he felt the same curious tug she did. Like some sort of gravitational pull drawing her closer to him. “But” she said, interrupting her thoughts with a playful tone in her voice, “you never answered my question, did you? Do you desire to trade this life for the chilling embrace of eternity, to join the spectral parade?”

A little smile tugged on his lips as Ari thought that he noticed a little blush on Renata’s cheeks. He thought that his friend was pretty, had nice skin and all, but what he really liked most about her was that they could have deep conversations which gave him something to think about.

“Maybe,” he mused. He had never considered that emotions might be the essence of ghosts but that was also due to the fact that he had little experience with ghosts. If he, like Renata, had a ghost friend he’d probably interrogate them so they’d wish they’d be dead.

“I just assumed that emotions are dulled when there are no physical reactions to the things going on. I mean, don’t you think that our emotions are so pronounced because they are accompanied by physical reactions? A quickened heartbeat, the sensation of heat or coldness, a gentle touch…”

The mere mention of the defiance of time was enough to make Ari’s eyes lit up. He wanted to defy time. He wanted to control it. However, a ghostly existence didn’t strike him as alluring per se. “I totally think that the defiance of time itself is something incredible and fascinating and… ultimately desirable.”

As Renata repeated her earlier question, Ari realised that he hadn’t properly replied to it yet. “I’m not sure I’d want to be a ghost, though. It is, after all, a limited kind of existence with no way out. Besides, when you die, you cannot be certain to stay on as a ghost. So… for now at least, I’d much rather be mortal. How about yourself?”

A soft blush bloomed on Renata’s cheeks as Ari spoke, a spectral shade of pink painting the ghostly pallor of her skin. The faintly discernible compliment had given rise to a flutter in her heart, but their shared intellectual bond also stirred something deeper within Renata. A sense of validation, a warm sensation as she realized that the bond they shared was not a figment of her increasingly affectionate thoughts about him.

A thoughtful look crossed her face as Ari mulled over the essence of emotions and ghosts. “Perhaps you are right, Ari,” she conceded, her voice a mere echo in the night. “That physical manifestations of emotions do amplify them in a certain way.” The pounding of the heart in one’s chest was certainly missed in the afterlife. Ghosts would never feel the telltale heat that flared on their skin when touched by another. Maybe those sensations gave feelings greater depth. She considered his point, and agreed with it based on the facts he presented, and not her increasing fascination with the boy who presented them.

Ari spoke about the allure of defying time, and she saw the way he seemed to illuminate. His desire for control, his fascination with the untamed beast of time, resonated deeply with her own fascinations. Yet, his reluctance to embrace the spectral existence brought her back to reality. “You’ve captured it perfectly, Ari,” she responded, her voice soft yet poignant. To defy time, to stand unscathed by its ravages was a beguiling thought. “Becoming a ghost would be as limiting as liberating, an eternal prison with no promise of escape.”

Ari’s preference for mortality, his wariness of the spectral realm, reflected a sensibility that she appreciated. It was her turn now to answer the haunting question. She considered the question, her gaze straying into the distant hall as if seeking answers in the star-studded canvas beyond the windows. “While the idea existing forever holds a certain morbid fascination, I too would choose to remain tethered to mortality—at least for now.” There was a certain allure to the living realm, the passions, the pains, the fleeting moments of beauty… all things that made life so tantalizing. All the things she would miss if they faded in the afterlife.

“The spectral realm, while mystifying, seems a little too remote.” Renata adored attention and companionship, she loved performing and being seen, and if she were a ghost, many of those things would be far too difficult to obtain with regularity. “I’d far prefer to defy mortality in some other way.” Her eyes met his then, an unspoken secret held within her gaze, a hint of the affection that was steadily blossoming within her for him. “Will you tell me more about defying time?”

Spending time with Renata was so special. Ari felt he could be himself with her. They could have all these deep, meaningful conversations. He thought they were far more mature than most students their age and they shared this fascination with dark, mysterious things.

It was flattering that the girl agreed with him. Ari felt like he just grew an inch or so taller. “I cannot even imagine how emotions would feel if there was no physical aspect to them,” he admitted. Emotions were partly a physical experience for sure.

“I know, right?” Ari shuddered at the thought. A ghost wasn’t alive but not properly dead either. It was an eternal struggle, probably filled with regret. “They didn’t pass through and have no chance of ever finding their peace. That’s surely not a defiance of time worth celebrating. I wonder how many ghosts regret that they stayed back.”

Renata’s take on a ghostly existence made Ari look at his friend curiously. “For now, eh? Do you think that when you’re old you might actually want to be a ghost?” He hoped she didn’t think that. It was such a pitiful existence that he wished on no one he liked and he definitely liked Renata a lot.

When she added that she’d rather want to defy mortality in another way, Ari nodded eagerly. “I agree! I mean, I’d love to defy time, be able to travel through time like we can travel through space. Imagine how it would be like to travel into a different century. Would you want to go back in time or see what the future has in store?”

As Ari spoke, a warmth spread through Renata, a comforting assurance that she was valued and understood. The way they could delve into the deep, unspoken mysteries of life and beyond was something that set them apart, a shared bond that defied the simplicity of their age.

Ari’s admission about the difficulty of envisioning emotions without their physical manifestations elicited a thoughtful hum from her. His reaction to the tragic plights of ghosts, caught between existence and oblivion, resonated with her. The thought of an eternity filled with regret and spent alone was chilling indeed. “It’s a horrifying thought,” she agreed aloud, realizing that perhaps there was no possibility she might enjoy being a ghost, not even fifty years from now. “I imagine it’s a reality many ghosts would wish to escape if they could.”

At Ari’s question, Renata couldn’t help but chuckle, a spectral sound that echoed in the quiet night. “I believe even in my twilight years, Ari, I would not yearn for the spectral existence.” Ghosts were macabre, and therefore Renata was initially drawn to them, but upon further reflection, she couldn’t help but agree with Ari. She would not wish for such an existence.

His enthusiastic agreement to defying time in another manner sparked light in her eyes. The notion of time travel was indeed an enticing one. “Oh, Ari,” she said, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice, “to tread upon the sands of time… to witness the past unfold or to glimpse into the yet uncharted realms of the future… how could I ever choose?” The spectral veil of night seemed to soften around Renata as a gentle, whimsical air enveloped her. With a childlike giggle that echoed in the darkness, she skipped a few steps ahead of Ari. The ethereal glow of the moonlight bathed her in its silver brilliance, casting a mesmerizing aura around her.

Ahead of him, Renata began to dance, her feet moving in a rhythm only she could here. Her dress, an obsidian mirror of the night, twirled and flowed around her like a midnight ocean, each fold capturing the lunar radiance and throwing it back into the world in shimmering rivulets. Her movements, elegant and spontaneous, painted and eerie ballet of shadows and lights against the cold, hard ground. Each pirouette was a hushed whisper to the night, each sway a beckoning to the spectral denizens of the afterlife.

“I suppose,” she began another twirl, her brown hair flowing gently with the movement until she’d spun back around to face him, “I would choose to venture into the future.” Renata moved through the shadows, the soft notes of a silent melody guiding her. Every twirl, every step, was a fleeting whisper of her inner joy, her soul’s freedom echoing through the hushed night. With every spin that led her awa from Ari, she felt an unexpected pang of longing, like an invisible tether pulling at her heart. “The future is mysterious.” As Renata danced back, an undeniable warmth spread through her, his presence anchoring her in a world that otherwise danced at the edges of the spectral.

Finally, she stopped, her heart pounding with an exhilaration that was as much about the dance as it was about the boy standing a breath away from her. “I’d love to catch a glimpse of what destiny has in store for us.”

It felt so reassuring that Renata agreed with him. While Ari didn’t mind opposition in general and could stand his ground in an argument, he wanted Renata to agree with him. It felt good to know she felt the same. He thought they could challenge the whole world together.

“I think so, too,” Ari said thoughtfully. “Do you believe that there’s a light to follow or a secret passageway to go through that could lead the ghosts to abandon their existence and go for good?” He paused, wondering if a ghost that had initially been too scared to pass through would now have the strength to do so if the chance presented itself.

For some reason the boy was relieved when his friend told him that not even in her darkest moments she’d want to turn into a ghost. The way of existing without many sensual influences and witnessing others around you live their lives and then disappear for good had to be a sad way to exist.

“Imagine how it must be for ghosts…” Ari voiced his thoughts. “They see people live, fully enjoy their corporeal pleasures, be it food, drink, touch… and then these people that they accompanied for a lifetime die and disappear forever, leaving the ghost alone, only to experience the same kind of loss over and over again.”

Before Renata fully answered his question, the girl danced in front of him and he felt that he had never before seen anyone move so gracefully. He knew, of course, that his friend was a junior artistic flyer, but he had never really seen her perform. Now, however, seeing her twirl through the corridor, he felt that he had missed out on something memorable.

“So you would like to travel in our future or beyond that? I mean, imagine how…” Ari had actually wanted to say more but a dark shadow passed them and he stopped dead in his tracks. “Diavolo!” he said, “there you are.” He stepped forward and grabbed the cat. Holding it out to his friend. “Well, we’ve found him,” he said, sounding a little disappointed. He hoped that Renata would not want to go straight back to the common room now.

In the hushed, gloomy chambers, as shadows coiled around her like spectral serpents, Renata surrendered to a ghostly waltz. The moon, a pallid witness through the ancient windows, draped her in a gown of light and darkness. It was amidst this phantasmal display that Diavolo, her feline companion, a sleek specter in his own right, emerged from obscurity. And with him, Renata missed Aristide’s question.

With eyes that held the secrets of the night, Renata watched her shadowy companion. Diavolo moved with an otherworldly grace, his steps silent, his presence as much a part of the night as darkness himself. In her heart, she felt a kindred spirit with the creature, an affinity for the nocturnal and the arcane.

As Ari lifted the creature, her eyes glinted with a mischief born from the gloom and a warning. Quickly, she took the creature from her friend. Renata caressed the purring enigma, feeling the prick of his claws like the kiss of a rose’s thorn. “You’ve summoned chaos this eve, il mio mostro,” she whispered with chilling delight.

Her skin, aglow with the exertion of her dance with the shadows, tingled with life’s fleeting warmth. She was a creature of the night, yes, but one that still bore the beating heart of the living. And in Ari’s inquiry, she found a curious charm. “Our future,” she breathed, her voice a silken thread in the tapestry of darkness. “In the end, it is the souls entwined within a story that bestow a tale with its vigor.”

In Rentata’s world, where the line between life and death danced like candlelight against the voice, she fancied herself a protagonist of a gothic tale, as intricate and inscrutable as the night itself. And she could see in Aristide a complexity that could indeed rival her own.

Feeling the sting of Diavolo’s claws, Renata lowered him to the ground. The cat purred, twisting around her angles, before going as still as the grave. When Diavolo, in his feline caprice, left as abruptly as a thought, Renata’s lips curled into a secretive smile. “The shadows beckon,” she intoned, her voice a siren’s call to the mysterious unknown. “Shall we answer them?” Her invitation hung in the air, as tempting and as dangerous as an undiscovered potion.

 

“That’s true,” Aristide agreed. “Our own lives’ stories can only develop through the interaction with others. Life is change and change can only happen as a result of the interaction of different beings.”

Renata’s fascination with death and darkness was always tempting to Aristide. He was pretty obsessed with some thoughts that his friend so frequently addressed himself. His primary fascination was, in fact, the concept of time, but every person’t time ended with death and so that was a very interesting topic as well.

“Of course we shall,” he said, a small smile curving his lips while his gaze rested on his friend. She could have carried her cat back into the common room and would have thus ended their mission. However, she had put Diavolo back down and the cat had turned invisible again like a shadow in the darkness.

With her by his side, Aristide didn’t fear anything, least of all getting into trouble with the school’s staff. What was a detention anyway, when you were really talking about life and death. When you were philosophising about time. The present was just a fleeting moment and would soon belong to the past and remain just a memory that would blur with the filter of more time passing.