A/N: Er… I don't know. It just kind of flew through the window and hit me in the back of the head so I had to write it. And pay no attention to the title; it has absolutely nothing to do with anything since I couldn't think of one.
Disclaimer: Scaramouche, scaramouche… I don't own Harry Potter-ish concepts or Queen. Then again, as previously stated the latter is completely irrelevant.
Jesse flung her bedroom door open and stepped inside. It was hot, as usual since her room was in the attic which had no air conditioning. She dumped a shopping bag on her bed at the other end of the room, exchanged the heeled sandals on her feet for the sneakers waiting next to her bed, and then said slightly out of breath, "I know you're here, quit hiding. I have to be at Abby's in ten minutes and I want to show you something."
Immediately the lid to an old chest in the corner that Jesse used to store books of pressed flowers began to rattle. She crossed her arms and glared at it impatiently until the lid flew wide open and shut quickly. Moments later, the silvery translucent figure of a teenage boy appeared inches from the ceiling. Her expression never changed as he grinned at her and slowly descended to her level.
Jesse did not find this in any way odd. She was quite used to her friend by now, having known him for over two and a half years. She'd met him just after moving into her current house; consequently this occurred a fairly short time after his death. He'd come to haunt the place, since he and his family had lived there before he first went off to boarding school.
"What do you do in that old thing, anyway?" she asked, gesturing towards the trunk in distaste.
The ghost shrugged, replying "I like the smell."
"I thought you couldn't smell," she pointed out. To this he only shrugged again.
"What's so important that you have to show me this very second?" he wondered, imitating her impatient tone almost perfectly. She scowled before reaching into the shopping bag, allowing her face to lighten as soon as her fingers brushed the object of importance.
"I got a new book today," she informed him, sounding pleased with herself.
The ghost wasn't impressed. "Ooh, aah," he said, waggling his fingers sarcastically. "What is it this time? The Super Atlas of Middle-earth? Hobbits and How to Find Them? Everything You Never Really Cared About Concerning Lord of the Rings?" Jesse thought quite certainly that she would have smacked him if her hand would have done more than go through him.
"Nope," she said instead, "you lose." She held the book, a medium-sized hardcover, towards him so he could read the title.
Jesse always showed the ghost each time she got a new book because he told her he'd liked to read when he was alive. Of course, now he couldn't hold onto a book or anything solid for that matter and complained often how he missed it. To solve this misfortune on his part she would read out loud to him as often as she could. She considered it his problem if he didn't happen to like Lord of the Rings.
His expression changed only slightly as his eyes skimmed over the cover, but his smile seemed decidedly stiffer.
"Where'd you find that?" he asked mildly.
She shrugged. "There was a huge display of them at the bookstore. Apparently it's wildly popular. Everyone's reading it. It can't be all bad. I mean, it sounds pretty cool."
"Yeah… pretty cool…" he agreed half-heartedly. His face sunk and he appeared suddenly faint. Jesse frowned in concern.
"Are you okay?" she asked, dropping the book on her bed. Her friend was usually pretty cheerful, besides the consistent moments of depression he would go through that Jesse figured all ghosts did. She knew she'd be sad if she suddenly died, especially at such a young age.
"I'm fine," he said absently, and offered her his usual grin. She smiled in return before groaning.
"I'm late," she moaned. She grabbed her backpack which had been tossed carelessly aside by the door and turned to say goodbye. The ghost was already gone, or at least invisible. She sighed.
"See you later, Cedric," she said to the apparently empty room before closing the door behind her.
Cedric Diggory appeared again in the same spot he'd been in the entire time. He drifted towards the bed and stared at the obviously impossible, but so obviously real.
The words Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone gleamed at him from the book cover.