Esprit D'Elle

You have no idea how boring it is to be a ghost. I know what you’re all thinking that it’s so cool because you drift through walls and spy on people. You can find all the most interesting gossip. Yeah, that’s true, but who am I going to tell it to? Huh? My point exactly.

I know you’re thinking that I should tell it to another ghost. It’s strange to think, but they’re aren’t really any other ghosts here. They were all allowed to go to the next life. I, on the other hand, have to stay here until such a time that the American Spiritual Ministry sees fits, which could be a long time, considering they don’t like me much. I was liked and respected in England. Apparently, going back in time to see the history of such a beautiful house is against the code of something-or-other and therefore I broke the rules, which damn be to this house for who knows how long. I mean, I like being here to see my children grow up, but you never really get used tonot being seen.

Where were we? Ah yes, boredom. You can only walk through walls so many times until it gets boring. And you can only misplace Ginny’s belongings to many times. Eventually it gets old. Though, it was amusing to see Ginny’s face as her favorite red Stiletto was flushed down the toliet.....

I got in trouble for that one. “Eternal damnation to one’s home” they called it. I call it house arrest. They like this “damnation” word. They use it so much. I’ve heard that only really bad ghosts are damned. The Ministry just likes to call it that to scare us.

I flop onto the armchair. There’s not much to do around here. How long ago was it that I sorted Harry’s sock drawer? What was it last week? He’s a little untidy, so I just go in there and organize it again. He won’t notice...I think he’s gotten used to it. Well, gotten used to the fact that somehow things get done, as if....As if by magic! Ha ha. He used to think it was Ginny who was doing this things for him. Used to...

I opened the sock drawer and pulled all the socks out. I started by matching up the pairs the progressed to color organizing them. Last time I had done it by style and then color. This time I will do it by color then style.

As I was placing the gym socks into their place I heard a loud noise on the door. Surely it couldn’t be time for Harry to be home. Time doesn’t pass that quickly while sorting socks.

I tossed the rest of the socks back into the drawer. I couldn’t just leave them there. I heard a crunch and a crack. The sound of breaking wood. My heart pounded. The sound of the front door being smashed to pieces caused my blood to run cold.

I was a ghost, yes, but that didn’t stop the natural instinct of fear to arise. I lifted up my skirts and ran to the door. Wood chips were splattered everywhere. A hand reached in to my home and I screamed. I rushed forward to push the hand back. Not that it did much. I was too terrified to think clearly.

They broke the door down. Two of them were wearing black suits with black robes. A redhead was following them. It was Ron. Thank goodness.

They looked grave. Suddenly, I knew something bad had happened. I mean, yes, something bad would have to be going on for two strange men to break the door to my home down and for one of my best friends to be accompanying them.

“Are you sure?” Ron was asking.

“Positive, Mr. Weasley,” the first man said. He appeared to have a higher rank than the other, but it was hard to tell.

“I don’t understand, though. How will breaking into his house help?”

Oh, Ron....

“Well,” said the second man, “we wouldn’t have to have down this if someone had answered the door. And under the circumstances, I don’t think anyone’s home. Unless his wife is.”

“Mr. Bernard,” Ron began, addressing the second man, “Harry’s wife past away some time ago.”

“Well, that takes care of that.”

“Can you think of any reason for Lord Voldemort to want to kidnap Mr. Potter?” said the first man, who for the sake of the readers, we will tell his name, which is Mr. Jonstone.

“Well, let me think,” Ron said sarcastically, pretending to think. “Well, it IS Harry’s fault that Voldemort lost all his powers. And it is Harry’s fault that Voldemort couldn’t come back that second time. And it is also Harry’s fault that Tom Riddle couldn’t kill al the Muggleborns in Hogwarts. Not to mention every other thing that Harry has done to tick him off. Sounds like a good enough reason to me!”

I slid up against the wall. Harry. My Harry. My love. Kidnapped? He was kidnapped. My...Harry...Harry...Harry..

Harry..Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. My Harry. My Harry. My Harry. My--

“Where’s Harry?!”

That damn little redhead couldn’t let alone, could she? She probably thinks now that she deserves to be here. Well, she doesn’t I ought to---

“Ma’am, please calm down,” Mr. Bernard told the small woman.

Ginny seemed a little put out at being called ‘ma’am.’ Serves her right.

“But, Anna and Michael are gone!”

My eyes widened. I slumped to the floor. My children.....