4The mismatched group went to making themselves as much at home as they could in the musty rooms, the boys bunking in the largest couple of the rooms that were in well enough condition to sleep in, then the three girls to the second largest of the rooms. The three adults each got their own room, Snape's near the boys and Trelawney far, far away from him. She had started to mutter fearfully that her crystal ball had revealed to her that she would be destined to sleep in the same room with Snape.
The first day or two went quickly, starting with the rooms and bathrooms; nothing major. It was not until they had begun working on the kitchen and adjoining dining room that things…started.
"MOMMYY!"
Everyone in the living room turned to see Ron hauling ass out of the large kitchen, face even paler than usual, soapy water dripping from his hands down his arms as he held them out in front of him.
Hermione rolled her eyes. She had on long yellow rubber gloves and was elbow-deep in a bucket of hot, bleachy-smelling suds. "Yes, Ronald, we all know there is nothing in the kitchen to eat. Dumbledore will send us something for lunch in a little while. Be patient, you pig!" Her voice was exasperated, and she looked up from her place on her knees, where she had been scrubbing the hardwood floor devotedly.
"N-n-n-noo! Not th-that!" Ron looked absolutely horrified as he pointed a dripping, water-wrinkled finger at the kitchen in an ominous manner. "Ghost!"
"Ron," Ginny started in a chiding tone, "Like Dumbledore said...we all know that ghosts aren't all scary and harmful like muggles think!"
"Tell that to that oooooonne!" He hollared, looking quite as if he must've wet himself, as he shook his pointed finger in emphasis, a few soap bubbles falling from it.
Everyone turned, curious to say the least. None of them expected what was crawling in a jerky, disjointed way across the threshhold from the kitchen into the dining room. The man, if you could call him such, most likely was-or more appropriately, had been-around his forties, with dark hair that was riddled with shades of gray from age; what should have been a mouth was but an eerie hole, constantly gaping open, as his bottom jaw appeared to have been ripped from his face, hanging on only by a few strands of muscle and tissue at one stretched corner, and dragging and bumping along the cracked stone tiling of the floor. The sound the mauled jaw made was chilling, as would be expected of the sound of bone and dead flesh on chipped stone. Everyone seemed to be frozen in place, some staring in horror at the thing coming towards them, others with a look simply of disbelief. All of the Weasley children had lost what little color they had to begin with, appearing nearly as translucent as what they were observing. Hermione was the closest to it, having been washing the floor in front of the fireplace that was placed against the same wall as that entrance into the kitchen. Everything about this 'man' was morbidly disturbing, of course... But what bothered Hermione the most was his eyes. Or lack thereof, leaving only hollow sockets that were deep voids of red. The kind of red that large quantities of blood turn when it all dries.
Hermione felt as a shudder run down her spine, but didn't realize she had done so. Ginny squeaked and latched both her small, colorless hands around one of Harrys arms. There was a distressed moan followed by weak thump onto the wood floor; the sounds of Trelawny losing conciousness.
"Oh my." Typical of Lupin to sound so calm.
"Wh...what...the bloody hell...is that thing?" Draco exclaimed. It would be rather impossible for his peridot-colored eyes to have gotten any wider.