Who Ya Gonna Owl?

The merpeople off the coast of Scotland were at it again. Julian Konopka, the Ministry's foremost expert on saltwater merfolk, heaved a great sigh and rubbed at his face with both hands. Honestly, the Merchieftainess ought to know better than to allow this sort of rubbish to go on. It might be mischievous youngsters to her, but to him it was one step closer to those damned laws Umbridge had tried to get through.

A noise interrupted his thoughts- quite a lot of people yelling somewhere down the corridor. There was a lot of yelling in the Dangerous Creatures wing these days. Resolutely, he ignored it. He had merpeople to worry about.

According to the note he'd been given, a Muggle ship had come within a hairsbreadth of foundering. The colony's elvers, no longer content with proving their bravery by tapping Muggle ships as close to the moving parts as possible, had come upon a fishing vessel moving slowly enough to harass. Some bright light among them had found a pry bar on the sea bottom, and there'd been rivets poking out of the ship's belly, and-

Dash it all, they were still yelling. Different voices this time. Well, whatever had got the people in Beastly Affairs riled up couldn't be that serious. There'd be all sorts of alarums if anything dangerous were happening. Probably someone had cheated someone else in the week's Quidditch wagering.

Back to the dispatch. The Muggle ship had started to take on water within minutes of the elvers' play, and had started to sink at an alarming rate. They'd got a good bit of the way towards Glasgow harbour despite the ongoing prying of bits and pieces. Unfortunately, the Muggles had seen the elvers pointing and laughing at them even in the darkness. (Stupid of the elvers to pick a full moon night for a game like that, really.) The sighting might've been excused- strange things happened at sea, after all, especially in the minds of people in distress- but the rescue boat had seen them too. And that meant the Office of Misinformation had to send its Obliviators.

The yelling had died away. That was good. But now he could hear zap! noises and suspiciously loud sizzling sounds.

With a sigh, Julian put down the note. The rest of the parchment on his desk was probably more critical, and if they were hurling spells with that kind of abandon, there'd be an alert for sure within minutes. The last thing he wanted was for all his work to be scattered to the eight winds. He capped his ink-bottle, laid his quill to one side, and started filing each of the individual documents away. The paperwork for Misinformation went in the filing cabinet for future reference; the draft copy of his reprimand to Onesimus Taylor for that cock-up at Arbroath belonged in his desk, as it wasn't finished; the report on mackled malaclaw interference in interspecies amity, in the other drawer of his desk, for later reading but not immediate response.

The magical window set into his wall flickered, its moorland scene blinking to solid grey in an instant. A woman's brisk, businesslike voice sounded from the ceiling:

"Please remain calm. There has been an Incident in Dangerous Creatures. This is not a drill. We repeat, there has been an Incident in Dangerous Creatures. Please assume your defensive positions and await further instructions. We repeat, this is not a drill. . ."

Julian's stomach sank. They hadn't been able to contain it? He pushed his chair aside and ducked under his desk, wand in hand. After a moment he realised he had no view whatsoever of the office's door, and thus no way of knowing if the Incident was coming his way. Cautiously, he crept forward enough to peep over his desk without putting too much of himself in danger. Nothing to be seen-

No, wait. Something silvery flashed through the shadows at the other end of the corridor, sending parchment and quills flying in its wake- something big. It might've almost been a Patronus if it hadn't been yowling like the souls of the damned. Julian flinched instinctively, but at least it hadn't seen him. He found himself wishing there were more reflective objects in his office-

"GET HIM, RAY!"

Julian dropped to the floor, both hands over his head. A moment later he looked up. The sizzling noise was coming from the other end of the corridor- where the shadows were being punctuated by flashes of painfully bright purplish-white light. The howling still filled the air, but now there were gleeful yells of "Winged 'im!" and "Nice one, Zed!" and "Sorry! Sorry! Someone get a fire extinguisher!" to go with it.

All right. Someone was Taking Care of the Problem. Safe in that knowledge, Julian crawled back under his desk and waited, holding on tight to his wand. He could still hear the howling, of course, but it wasn't on his side of the desk, right?

"Pete! Ray! Take the left! Egon, down the middle! He's gonna make a break for it!"

Wait a minute. 'Fire Extinguisher'? When he'd been at school, that was the name for love potion countercharms. What were they doing?

"Nobody move! I need a clear reading!"

It occurred to him that the flashes of light had stopped. There weren't any more zap noises, either. Come to think of it, even the howling was gone. . .

"Over there. Be careful-"

Julian, being careful by nature, detested situations that called for extra care. If only his office had more than one door!

"-I can see feet, there's someone still in there-"

It occurred to him that this would be an absolutely splendid moment to Apparate down to the nearest tea-shop; he closed his eyes.

"Mister," said a low, American voice from the door to Julian's office, "this would be a really, really bad time to try anything. It's here."

"Er?" managed Julian. There was a strange upwelling of cold air all about him, and he could feel the hair prickling along the backs of his arms-

"Don't. Even. Breathe," commanded the other man's voice. Julian nodded, huddling tighter as something slimy started to trickle down the collar of his robes.

"Now," whispered someone else, and the room exploded with howling and purple-white light.

***

"Well, that took longer than it had to."

"I don't know, Winston," said Ray as they rounded a corner. A witch hurrying past with several rolls of parchment under her arm gave him a startled look. "We are here to help the Ministry with their ghost problem, right? I'd say a Class Five in the middle of the main Ministry offices counts."

"I know, Ray, but we're late." Winston shook his head. "We told Arthur we'd be meeting him and the Minister of Magic by nine, and it's nine-twenty."

"He's right, Ray," said Egon. "We're already using questionable tactics on foreign soil. The last thing we need is to unnecessarily antagonize Ms. Bones."

"Guys, relax. We had to make an emergency side trip, that's all. I'm sure she'll understand."

"I hope so, Ray, I really do," Winston said. He nodded towards a pair of figures at the end of the corridor. The shorter of the two had its hands on its hips, and fairly radiated irritation. "You okay back there, Pete? That thing got you in the gut pretty hard."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Alllll better now. Our new friend here's not doing so good, though." Pete flashed a small, strained smile at the beslimed wizard, who whimpered. "Sorry, pal. Better you than me."

Winston shook his head, but before he could say another word, the taller figure started waving enthusiastically. "There they are, Minister!" exclaimed Arthur Weasley. "You see? I told you they'd be along shortly. Just got a bit lost, I imagine?"

"Not exactly," Winston said dryly.

Arthur's beaming smile faltered. Ray stepped forward, whispering. "It's okay, Mr. Weasley. Give us a minute." Then he half-bowed and raised his voice. "Madam Minister, I presume?"

The shorter figure, a woman of iron-grey hair and indeterminate years, nodded curtly. "And you would be-"

Rallying, Arthur stepped forward as well. "Ah- Madam Minister, please, allow me to present the Ghostbusters. This is Dr. Raymond Stantz, and these are Dr. Egon Spengler, Mr.Winston Zeddemore, and Dr. Peter Venkman." He hesitated. "Er- Dr. Venkman-"

Peter was running a hand over his stomach, prodding experimentally at the sorer spots; he looked up. "Huh? Oh, sorry, Art. Good to meet you, Madam Minister. That's what I'm supposed to call you, right?"

"Minister will do," she said, adjusting her monocle and peering at the wizard next to Peter. "Merlin's teeth and toenails, man, what happened to you?"

At that, Peter grinned. "Oh, him? This guy had a little close encounter in his office." He patted Konopka on the back; the man made a small 'wibble' noise, but mostly just stared straight ahead.

One of the Minister's eyebrows shot up as Winston added, "Egon's PKE meter pretty nearly jumped out of his hand as we were walking past the Dangerous Creatures division, so we figured we'd better make a little detour. Didn't expect it to turn into a full-fledged bust."

A puzzled expression crossed Bones' face at the words 'PKE meter'; Egon held the device up. "One of the more important tools of our trade," he said. "I could explain how it works, but I don't think you're particularly interested in the technical details right now."

"You would be correct in that assumption," said Bones. "Although I do appreciate your-" She hesitated, looking at Peter, who was trying unsuccessfully to wipe away the slime that'd come off Konopka's shoulder. "-initiative," she decided.

"Thank you."

"Madam Minister." That was Ray. "According to the letter we received inviting us to England, you've got a nationwide ghost and spirit problem of unprecedented proportions. We're honored-"

"Don't let him get started, he'll never shut up."

"Peter!" exclaimed Ray, sounding hurt. "I worked hard on this speech!"

"The Minister of Magic doesn't wanna hear a speech, Ray. She wants to know what we're going to do about her little problem, and how we're gonna go about doing it."

"But that's what I was going to say!"

"Ray? Suggestion for you." He lowered his voice as he turned to Ray. "The wizard lady's already mad at us. And I don't think it's just because we're late."

"Then why-"

"People don't like it when you bring them employees who drip slime all over the carpet."

Ray's eyes slid to Konopka. A thoughtful look crept into his face.

"I suggest we clean the- Ray, you're not listening, are you?"

"Just a minute," said Ray absently. "Egon? Would you mind getting a sample?"

Winston knew that look. He didn't know what Ray was planning, but oh, he knew that look. . .

"Already done, Raymond."

"Great." Ray's hand dipped into a pocket of his jumpsuit.

Reflexively, Winston flattened himself against the nearest wall and put an arm up over his face. Egon winced and started backing away immediately. Arthur caught sight of the motion and gestured to Bones to do the same.

Just in time, too. "Scourgify!" shouted Ray.

SPLAT.

"Arrgh!"

"Whoops. Sorry, Pete."
"That was my favorite eye!"

"Oh, calm down. It's just a little slime- you'll be fine in a minute."

Winston dropped his arm. Konopka was clean, if a little pale. Pete was muttering under his breath, glaring at Ray as he pawed a blob of slime out of his face. "That kind of thing happens all the time in our line of work," Ray was telling the Minister. "He's used to it, don't worry."

Bones smiled. "I can imagine," she said. "Now. I'm told you gentlemen requested that a room be prepared here in the Ministry? Your specifications were a bit vague."

"Intentionally so, ma'am. But if you could just hold that thought-" He waved down a passing wizard and gently steered Konopka towards him. "Would you mind taking this fellow over to your infirmary for us, please? Don't let him get away- we need to interview him later. Thanks. . . okay, where was I?"

"Vagueness," said Arthur helpfully. He'd already thrown open a door behind the Minister, revealing a room completely empty save for the small, glowing stones embedded in the low-hanging ceiling.

"Okay, great. You see, Madam Minister, when we get called in on a really big job like this, it's usually a pretty deep-seated problem. Just trapping the ghosts and removing them from the places they're haunting doesn't fix the situation."

"When you say 'removing'-"

"He means like this, ma'am." Winston held up the still-smoking trap. Bones stared at it blankly; Arthur, on the other hand, had an expression of rapt fascination on his face. "This is one of our traps- we use them to pull in ghosts and hold them until we can get them safely back to our containment unit."

Ray nodded. "Only the containment unit's really a permanent feature of the landscape back home, so we needed an alternative here. At least, until we can get enough information out of studying your spooks to solve your problem once and for all. That's where this room comes in, right, Egon?"

Egon had temporarily jammed his PKE meter under one arm, the better to attach what looked like a rune-covered circuit board to the back. The light from the ceiling wasn't strong enough to make out the details. "I think it'll do, Ray," he said. "All my readings've been within acceptable parameters, and this part of the building's got strong enough walls to stand up to our projected stress levels."

"What do you intend to do to the walls that requires so much strength, Dr. Spengler?" asked the Minister suspiciously. "And how, exactly, is that device even working? Or any of your devices, for that matter."

"I assume you're referring to the phenomenon of 'magical' interference in mundane electronics?" The corners of Egon's mouth twitched in an oddly satisfied expression.

"Precisely."

Winston gave Ray a curious look. The other man shrugged. "Most electronics- and almost anything that works on batteries- well, they don't work very well when there's a lot of magic around."

"Yeah," chimed in Peter. "My watch stopped almost as soon as we came in here."

Winston cast a quick glance down at his wrist. Mickey's arms were still moving just fine. "But because I have to wind mine instead of it running on a battery, it's okay?"

"Yep."

"So why do the proton packs work?"

"For the same reason I got chased out of Durmstrang with pitchforks and torches," Egon said, holding up the newly bleeping PKE meter. He aimed it at one of the walls and started moving it slowly up and down. "Ray, you'd better start marking these... Applied arithmantic number theory makes it possible to analyze magic at the quantum level. To a lesser degree, it makes it possible to shield against its interference- and to replicate a few of its effects. Our packs are powered by nuclear accelerators, but they weigh about five pounds more than a properly shielded positron collider of that size needs to, because of the structural elements we've had to build in for mana blocking."

"'Mana' being Egon's term of preference for what the wizarding world refers to as magic," Ray added, looking over at the Minister from where he was busily chalking out diagrams on the wall. "It's a subset of the psychokinetic energy spectrum, just like visible light is a subset of the entire electromagnetic spectrum. We don't normally deal with it much in our line of work, since most spirits are too busy vibrating in frequencies that you could practically track with something from Radio Shack, but why take chances, right?"

"I think I see," said Bones slowly. "Weasley? Are you understanding any of this?"

"I- yes, Minister, actually," Arthur answered. "They've. . . figured out how to make Muggle devices that use magical principles to. . . slough off magic, like a dragon's hide sloughs off most spells."

"That's about the size of it," said Ray.

"And this room- the designs-" Bones waved her hand at the rapidly expanding, hideously complex diagrams Ray was drawing. "Most of that lot looks familiar. Nacknouck's got books full of layouts like that. I assume the Sealing Sigil of Sigismund's going to be involved eventually?"

"That's going to be the last element in the design, actually-"

"What my colleague and I are doing," interrupted Egon, "is preparing this room for its temporary conversion into a spirit storage facility. The New York facility's design is a laser containment grid based on quantum arithmancy. Once the beams are calibrated to the correct frequencies, they set up a subatomic disturbance inside our containment unit that's the equivalent of a wall of pure magic. It replicates the effects of every major spirit-thwarting incantation without actually being magical under EPA rules."

"EPA?" whispered Bones to Arthur.

"One of their Muggle Government agencies," he answered, equally quietly. "One of their divisions reports to the Congress of Magic."

"Ah."

"The Mundane Enchantment and Influence Act's a real bear to get around," Ray said, still drawing. "So it's easier to pay the giant electrical bills every month and make friends in the electricians' union. But here we don't have to do that. A couple good solid layers of Repulsion, Shielding, and Unbreakable Charms on every surface in the room, plus of course your major warding sigils in the places with the best readings on Egon's little friend there- scoot your feet over, will you, Pete? I have to start laying down the access path."

Peter hopped sideways. "So basically, this room's going to be our spooks' home away from home for a while," he said to the Minister.

"And with the filtration gates Egon and I put together for the meters, we can get as much data as necessary from them without having to undo any of the barrier spells. Which should make chasing down the source of your problem easier," Ray added, looking to Bones and Arthur. "Any kind of psychokinetic phenomenon of this kind of magnitude's bound to leave a common imprint-"

She held up one hand. "Spare me the rest of your details, Dr. Stantz," she said with a pained look. "Or give it to me in written form, if you don't mind? I'd just as soon have a text to work with."

"Can do. Egon, do you want me to get the ceiling?"

"No, I can handle it."

"All right."

"So how long do you expect this to last, anyway?" said Arthur, watching with fascination as Egon started scanning the ceiling.

"About fourteen days," answered Ray. "We're just using a light fixative spell on it until we have a clearer picture of just how bad your ghost problem is. After that, we're going to have to start renewing the lines one at a time. We could do up a permanent containment room if the Spirit Division needed it-"

"But we'd have to negotiate that contract separately," Peter noted, taking a few more steps back out of Ray's way. "We can talk about that later, though. You guys almost done?"

"Just about, Venkman. . ."

"Great. Winston? Think our disgusting little friend's ready to come out and play nice?"

Winston glanced at the trap; it had long since stopped smoking. "Looks like it to me, Pete."

"Okay, cool. You guys, you're going to want to move over some." He indicated the curling path that Ray had drawn, snaking away from the door. "Soon as Dr. Spengler there's done-"

"Which I am," Egon said, tucking his own piece of chalk into a jumpsuit pocket and picking his way across the floor with the greatest of care.

"Great. In that case. . . it's showtime."

That was Winston's cue. The twisting, sigil-bordered chalk path led into the center of the room, approaching, but not connecting to, an insanely complicated freestanding circle. He didn't know what the runes spelled out, and he wasn't sure he wanted to, but they were interspersed with lines labeled in recognizably Greek and Hebrew lettering. "Should I be trying to read this?" he asked, glancing over the interlocking curved and angular diagrams that took up most of the circle's center.

"Only if you want to spend the next week nursing the mother of all migraines."

"Thanks, Ray, I think I'll pass. Trap goes in the middle, right?"

"Yep. Try not to smudge any of the lines. The spell's good, but you could still do some damage."

"Wasn't planning on it." He set the trap down and backed away carefully. Frankly, the whole setup was a little unnerving- give him a nice, reliable piece of machinery any day- but he wasn't about to let on. "All right, everyone, stand clear. . ."

The trap flew open in a burst of light and furious, agonized roaring. For a moment the sight was too bright to bear, as a dome of blazing energy sprang into existence around the perimeter of the circle. Then the light parted down the middle, and the Class Five was flung into the room proper.

About the size of a writing-desk, a translucent silver-white in colour, the spirit resembled nothing so much as some horrible, abortive attempt at creating a minotaur from Highland cattle. Its legs churned madly in mid-air, the hoofs and badly-formed hands unable to find purchase on the chalked marks beneath. Then the shaggy spectral head swung around to stare at the humans, mad eyes glaring at them redly. The Five flung itself forward- only to slam with bone-shaking force into a barrier of suddenly-glimmering air.

"Gotcha," Ray half-whispered. Egon just smiled and folded his arms across his chest.

The thing let out another bellow of hate and tried again, with no more success than before. Its next attempt was met with another shimmer of air and a sudden flare of greenish light along the nearest arc of sigils; the horrific noises cut off abruptly, replaced immediately with an almost child-like whimper of pain. It fell back, shaking its head and pawing helplessly at one ear.

"Great stars above!" breathed Bones. "I've never seen one so close!"

"You know what this thing is, ma'am?" Winston asked, eyebrows rising.

"I've been briefed," she answered, eyes still on the agonized spectre. "The Spirit Speakers call them 'Tegs'. Welsh, I think. I seem to recall they've inspired Muggle legends about white cattle, they usually haunt mountain lakes- what was this one doing here?"

"Trying to wreck the Dangerous Creatures offices, when we found it," Winston answered. "I don't know more than that."

"Neither do we, at the moment," said Egon, finally looking away from the Teg's tentative prodding at the be-sigiled walls. "It's going to take us a while to figure it out, I'm afraid. Scans should be easy enough, but we're going to need some time for analysis-"

"And of course we're going to need to capture a few more of your other spooks for comparison," added Ray. "Not to mention talking to your Spirit Division employees and reading through their notes."

Bones nodded. "Of course," she said. "I'll need a preliminary report before authorising anything major, mind you."

"Of course, Madam Minister."

"Uh, Art- I'd stop that if I were you," said Peter.

The others turned as one. Arthur yanked his hand back hastily as the Teg lunged at him, huge flat teeth snapping impotently in midair. It hit the barrier in a flare of green energy and fell back harder than before. "Er. Sorry. I just wanted to see if it blocked me, too."

"It won't," said Ray. "The wards in here are designed to keep spirit entities captive and harmless. They don't work very well on humans- you might get slowed down a bit, but that's it. If you put an arm in there and the Teg grabbed you, it could pull you in and it wouldn't be any harder than pushing a knife through a block of Jell-o."

"Through which?"

"Oops. Sorry. Jelly."

"Ah. Right." Arthur winced.

"Ray? Question," said Winston.

"What?"

"How do I get the trap back?"

"Oh, that's easy. Pick it up."

"Are you nuts? I'm not sticking my hand in there!"

"It's not technically inside the containment field," said Egon. "The circle's protected by an entirely separate set of wards. The presence of anything solid in the center activates it. As soon as the trap opens, the spirit inside's pulled out- much like what happens in our containment unit at home. The wards on the circle make that space temporarily impermeable from either side until the trap's closed. Once that happens, it expels the noncorporeal entity by force and erects the barriers again."

"I'm still not sticking my hand in there." Winston put up both hands, shaking his head. "No way."

"Fine," Ray said with a sigh, and reached for his wand again. This time, they all ducked. "Accio trap."

The device lifted from the center of the circle and flew through the air; Ray snatched it with his free hand as he put away his wand. Bones' eyes narrowed, but her expression looked satisfied. "I see," she said. "Unless there's something else you need at the moment- no? Very well, gentlemen. It seems the decision to involve the four of you was a wise one after all. I'll have a guard posted at the doors, and Weasley here will escort you up to see Aloyisius Nacknouck, our chief Spirit Speaker. He'll know where you can best be put to use."

"Thank you, Madam Minister," said Ray with a grin. "You won't regret it."

"For all our sakes, Dr. Stantz, I sincerely hope not."