Giving Notice

PEEVED OFF.

Hogwarts was always boring. And I do mean always, all through my existence here. Living, dead, it didn't matter, it was boring as all hell. Even the other ghosts were boring - I mean, Sir Nearly-Headless Nick whinging on and on because he couldn't join the Headless Hunt, every year without fail. Bor-ing!

Well, I had to at least try and make things interesting, didn't I? Wouldn't have been able to take it, otherwise. Sure, everyone used to tell me back when I was alive that my sense of humour was 'juvenile' and 'toilet humour' or 'just plain nasty, can't you stow it for once?'

Well actually no I can't, so nyah!

Well, no, I could... but I won't. So nyah nyah nyah!

It's always so much fun to torment people - especially the little first-years who haven't gotten used to me yet, or the old farts on the staff who are so full of themselves and their stupid old 'dignity'. And Filch.

It's going to be really REALLY boring now Filch is going. I even asked him to stay - but of course he won't. I guess I don't blame him. Not for that, anyway. STUPID old Filch! STUBBORN old Filch! Rotten old Filch, knew me too well.

Why couldn't I have found at least one first-year out of bed that night?

~*~*~*~*~*~

It started off pretty normal, you know. Filch was off in one end of the castle somewhere, oozing along like a great slug and that fuzzy hairball at his side. I, naturally, was having lots of fun being just a few corridors away - close enough for him to hear me, but too far away for him to catch me. Pretty normal night, and shaping up to be a fun one, yes it was.

And then I noticed it.

Someone was walking down the corridor. Someone invisible.

Now, when that Invisibility Cloak first came back to Hogwarts, I wasn't ready for it. I didn't think that potty little Potter would end up having his dad's Invisibility Cloak. He even tricked me once into thinking that he was the Bloody Baron, of all people, back when he was just a first-year!

And there was no way I was ever, EVER going to forget that. Nor forgive it! A first-year student, an ickle firstie, tricking Peeves! I was just lucky that part of the little escapade was forgotten by what the three of them did after they got to the third floor, or else Nearly-Brainless Nick would have never let me live it down.

So I made it a point to watch out for Potty and his two friends whenever I got the chance. You know, the boy with flaming red hair and freckles and the bushy-haired girl with huge front teeth and disgustingly round cheeks. Fire-Head and Frizz-Head. Weasel Spawn and Beaver Teeth. Freckle Face and Chipmunk Cheeks.

It was lots of fun, especially the next year. We had that trouble with the basilisk - again - and everyone thought Potty Potter was doing it, of all people. Ha! They might as well have accused Moaning Myrtle, the stupid weepy sod. Peeves knew perfectly well it was a basilisk, had to be, but nobody asked me, did they? And if they didn't think enough of me to ask, well then, who was I to deny them the fun of looking and watching and being paranoid?

I even made up this fantastic little song, right on the spot - and put it in a dance routine later. It was really good.

Oh Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done; You're killing off students, you think it's good fun...

... well, I thought it was good, anyway.

Anyways, I knew it was him this time, wasn't going to be tricked again. But just the fact that he was alone was pretty interesting - where were Weasel and Beaver? So I followed him for a bit. And I saw him going into an old classroom.

It had been deserted for a few months, and while Mr Headmaster Bumble-Bore decided what to do with it, it just sat there. Very boring. Sure, Filch cleaned it, but that just made it more boring.

"So what does Potty Potter want with a deserted classroom, then?"

I swear he jumped a yard high into the air at least. "Peeves!"

"The one and only! Aren't you lucky?"

"No."

"Too bad. What're you doing here, eh? Up to mischief?"

Glared at me he did, through those stupid glasses of his and all. "Go away, Peeves!"

I shook my head. "Oh dearie dearie me... out of bed after hours, in a deserted corridor, caught with an Invisibility Cloak, and - what's this? I do believe I hear Filch a little way away." I shook my head. "Rotten bad luck that is for you, that is."

"No, Peeves, wait!" His voice became desperate. "Don't tell Filch I'm here!" He begged in a hissing whisper. Oh, I'd waited for this ever since his first year. He was begging now, he was. And I was going to enjoy it.

"And why shouldn't I? What would a good little Gryffindor like you want with a boring old room like this, all alone, in the middle of the night? Unless you've got something... interesting... planned, that is." I noticed he was holding a scrap of parchment. "What's this?" I faked a grab at the parchment - he snatched it back against his chest as if he was cradling his precious Snitch. "Ha! Something important, maybe even something restricted, or worse..." Oh yeah, he was really squirming now, white as a sheet, and I was loving it.

"Peeves... please, just go away. Don't come back here tonight, don't tell anyone I'm here. Please."

I snorted. "And what's it worth to you if I do?"

He paused. "I have two whole bags of dungbombs in my trunk, in my dormitory. They're both yours, if you leave me alone. Do we have a deal?"

I blinked. I hadn't expected him to actually offer me anything. Normally, I'd be quite insulted at his childish attempt to bargain, but the fact was, Bumble-Bore and the Bloody Baron had organised it recently that I couldn't get hold of any more dungbombs after a little tiny harmless prank I pulled at an important meeting. With the Minister of Magic.

And dungbombs were my favourite, next to water balloons. And he knew it too, the little stinker.

"All right, then," I finally conceded, the lure of the bombs greater than the need for vengeance. "I'll go get them now. But if I find they're not in your trunk..."

"They are, Peeves, I promise you," he said, fervently relieved. "Thanks, Peeves. Have fun with them," he added as I left for the Gryffindor Tower.

I promise. Thanks. Have fun.

Even with his last words, stupid Potter's too damned nice.

In the dormitory, I quietly pried open the lid of his trunk, and muffled my gleeful chortles when I found not only the promised bags of dungbombs, but a few Canary Creams as well. This'll be fun...

After hauling my booty to a safe place where even Filch couldn't find it, being careful not to wake anyone up and lose my dungbombs, I stopped and thought about it for a minute. Sure, Potter had given me the dungbombs just to get me to leave him in peace... but it was a nice thing to do, considering that he thinks I'm just as annoying and in-the-way as I think he is.

So, all gentleman-like, I decide to do the proper thing, and go back to say thank you before leaving him alone and keeping my half of the bargain.

When I got back, I thought it was a joke. Another joke on Peeves by Potter. Right mad I got. Told him that THAT wasn't one bit funny, and how did he think it made us dead people feel? "Get down, Potter. I said get DOWN! Damn you, Potter, this isn't funny!"

And it wasn't one bit funny. It was serious.

Not that Filch believed me when I went to him. I tried to tell him, I did, I did, but no, he wouldn't listen, no one listens to old Peeves, do they? Not anymore.

I went back. Tried to undo the knots - but they were too tight, and ghostly fingers just don't help things, you know? He was still alive, still blinking. "C'mon, Potter," - and now I was the one begging - "undo the knots, you can do it!" But he couldn't. The ones digging into his neck were too tight, and the ones keeping the cloak round the rafter were too high for him to reach. He couldn't have untied them... but he might have if he'd tried.

He refused to try. Just looked at me, asking me something with his eyes... but I wasn't going to do what he asked this time.

Next thing I thought of was Nearly-Brainless Nick. He was fond of the Potty boy, surely he'd make Filch come...

Well, how was I to know that he was talking with the Bloody Baron? All I managed to say was "Nick... Potter... classroom... NOW..." and then the Baron gave me that look and boomed one word in that voice of his. "BEGONE!" I was off like a rocket. I ran back into Filch. I tried again, thought of everything I could to make him run - but damn him, he wouldn't run. So I had to find someone else, ANYBODY else...

I know! The Fat Friar of Hufflepuff! He's into all that forgiveness and crud, he'll listen to me! And he would have, too - if I could have found him.

Back to Filch, it was all I could do...

After he threatened to set an angry Bloody Baron on me, I went back to the boy. Waxy white skin. Blue lips. Staring eyes. Shit shit shit... I looked at the cloak. I can't untie the ropes, but maybe I can cut him down?

But how? I'd need - A sword! The Bloody Baron has a sword, maybe - oh, no, it's a ghostly one. That won't work.

Filch caught me trying to tug a sword off a suit of armour. I told him it was to get the boy down. I told him it was vital. I told him... that I would never play a prank on him for the rest of the time he was in this castle, if only he'd come now.

I meant it too - stupid thing for a poltergeist, but I was literally turning myself inside out by then, trying to think of something.

He came with me. I cut the boy down, not that it was easy. Filch caught him, hurried off to get help.

Rah rah rah. Not like it did any good, not by then.

~*~*~*~*~*~

That was five days ago. Filch left yesterday. I kept my word - didn't play a single trick on him for the rest of the time he was here. Or on anyone, really. There's no fun in playing tricks on someone who's too busy crying their eyes out to get mad at you.

Today at dinner, I hurled one of Potter's dungbombs. The very first one.

Right under the Bloody Baron.

Don't think he expected that, but then a lot of people weren't expecting things, were they?

"Begone, is it?" I hissed. "Well isn't it lovely, your nobleness, you can make a lot of things begone. You made me begone, and because you stopped me talking to Nick, you helped make the Potter boy begone. Maybe now you can make that stink begone, too?"

And I left, and came here, up to the Astronomy Tower. The Fat Friar came up to talk to me a bit, before going downstairs, presumably to get the Baron to calm down.

It'll take a long time before tricks are fun anymore. And even longer before I can stand to look at a dungbomb.

Oh Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done...

END.