-Summary-

Many years after the death of Harry Potter and the Battle of Hogwarts, Slytherins begins to see a figure draped in long black robes wandering the dungeon halls.

-Prologue-

In the beginning, nothing much was thought about the strange rumor.

The figure.

One day, a few days after the start of the year, Slytherins were claiming of seeing a tall figure draped in shadows wandering the dark corridors of the Dungeons in the late evening. Most chalked it up to be a nasty prank, one of the older students giving the younger years a hard time.

The teachers brushed it off, no matter how many of them came forward.

To the rest of the school's knowledge, The Figure was solely a Slytherin problem. The Gryffindor's taking the chance to pitilessly antagonize the Slytherins, exclaiming that The Figure was Voldemort's ghost coming back to persecute them for their families failure. That certain rumor was quickly put to rest by an enraged McGonagall, who threatened to suspend the Gryffindor's for even suggesting such a horrid thing.

The war was still too fresh in the minds of some, 6 years was not enough time to heal over the craters of loss. Jokes were defiantly not taken lightly by staff.

For many months that was how it went, Slytherins cautiously traveled the dungeons in groups and spent most of their free time in the library, avoiding the Dungeons' until they absolutely had to. The only time they dare enter the underground was immediately after dinner when the sun was still up and rays shown dimly green through the lake water.

The Figure was something to be afraid of, even the few lucky students who had never seen it were scared stiff of entering the place that was supposed to be their own. The ones who hadn't seen The Figure had seen the students who did. They always came back shaky and jumpy, their night were restless and paranoid, nightmares keeping them up till dawn and awake until exhaustion made them drop. The dark was no longer a comfort to them, it became something that The Figure could hide in.

It never appeared to enter their common room though, it was a small grace they gratefully accepted and held close, so they claimed that as a safe space along with their rooms. The older students half-heartedly joked that maybe it respected privacy. Few hysterically chuckled at that.

Slowly, The Figures sightings became more frequent. No one had ever gotten more than a glimpse of it, but that was enough to promise a week of sleepless nights.

After many weeks of Slytherins dragging their limp fatigued bodies, and the prank never relented the teachers began to worry that it was more than just a vindictive student. That they should have investigated months ago when the first couple Slytherins arrived hysteric in professor Snape's office.

The joke was over and no one was laughing now. No one thought it was a joke anymore.

The Figure no longer constrained itself to the cold Dungeon halls.

It happened in the Gryffindor tower late one night in mid-November. Only a handful of older students were awake in the commons room, talking softly to each other or finishing up homework. It was the quiet huff of a candle going out caught their attention, a large candle above a desk where a student was working went out, a small stream of smoke giving any indication it was lit; and the room drastically dimmed.

The girl as the desk, rested her hand against her chest, as if to calm her racing heart, "Who put out my light?!" She growled, glaring at down at the shadowed desk, the paper too dark to read anything now. When no one answered she pivoted in her seat to stare at her dorm mates, her eyebrows scrunched. "I asked who turned out my light?"

The 5 others that had hushed as soon as the light went out, stared at her with incomprehensible looks, until an older boy spoke. "No one blew out the candle Cindy."

She narrowed her eyes at them. "Well, they don't just extinguish themselves, they're charmed to last forever."

"It wasn't any of us."

Crossing her arms Cindy looked down her nose at them "Then who was it?'

"S-S-h" A Young girl stuttered from another couch. She had everyone's attentions as she tried to form words with her shaking lips.

Worried, one the sixth year girls moved over to sit with her on the red sofa.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you ok?" She moved to put her hand on the girls shoulder when she noticed the violent shaking. Her whole body seemed out of control as she trembled as her wide eyes started off into something on the other side of the room, behind the boys she was sitting with before.

Everyone else in the room looked on confused as Abby made an aborted movement to comfort the girl.

Feeling cold dread creep into her chest Abby, glanced up and looked in the direction the fearful blue ones where. She couldn't stop the choked scream that made it out of her throat as she starred out the open portrait hole and into the blackness of the unlit hallway.

It was like looking into a dementors eyeless sockets. The cold terror gripped her by the throat as she tried to scream.

The others soon turned to stare at the open canvas.

There was no one there, but the slightly swaying empty portrait argued it otherwise.

Goose bumps arose on everyone's skin and quickly one of the boys stumbled to their feet. "W-what the fuck!?"

The other stared as he shakily took a step towards the open door. "Mac, what are you doing?" Cindy croaked.

"I'm going to close it." Mac whispered back.

Everyone watched in mute horror as Mac carefully approached the door, stretched one arm out, placed a unsteady hand on the wood and began to push it shut. The action seemed to take forever, but no one rushed him. Every inch the portrait got closer to closing the his movement seemed to pain him and also to push him to complete his action faster.

Eventually it was nearly closed, just 3 inches of air separated them from whatever was on the other side.

Mac took a hopeful glance back at the group. Cindy and the others threw him a grateful look and motioned him to shut the portrait.

Turning back to give the portrait a final shove something cold brushed the side of his hand. With a sharp scream, he quickly retracted his hand and stumbled back and onto the burgundy rug.

He had never been so scared in his life, Paralyzed with fear he could only watch as a skeletally thin hand griped the door directly above where his own hand had been seconds ago. And slowly, ever so slowly he watched as the portrait was reopened.

Mac didn't hear the screams behind him as everything around him faded besides the figure that seemed to float in the doorway. Staring at him.

He couldn't see its eyes but he knew it was starring at him. He could feel its gaze like he felt sun on his skin. Except it wasn't warm like the sun, it felt like ice was being rubbed down his back. It felt piercing and soft and harsh all at the same time.

The Figure didn't seem to want to move towards the boy, nor did it seem interested in entering the dorm anymore now that the boy was there. And slowly it backed out. Leaving only the open portrait in its wake.