Hollie was scared. Ever since the funeral, she’d been feeling... things. A shadow that didn’t belong to her when she was alone. A dreadful whisper as she walked along hundreds of students in the corridor. A forbidden touch on her shoulder when she was asleep.

Then she started to see things. Not just feel them. They would manifest themselves. And the whispers became clearer. She could put a face to it now. And it looked beautiful. Sinfully so.

It happened again, on the night of November 1st. She had gone to the hospital wing to get herself sleeping draught, unable to rest without it. After grabbing it from a concerned Madam Pomfrey, she was heading back, afraid to be caught by a prefect or worse, Snape.

Ever since the funeral, there were more patrols in the halls at night. It's not as if there was any reason to. After all, Ginny had died because of a Quidditch accident. She remembers her mother telling her all about the rules of the game.

Her feet padded on the cold concrete, and she let her mind wander to the past.

It was a mistake. Doing it always let the visions creep in easier. And that’s just what happened. She looked up and almost collided with a man. Hollie slapped a hand on her mouth to avoid screaming.

Not a man. A boy.

It was deadly silent in the corridor. Hollie blinked, trying to get rid of the image. Horrified, she stumbled back and around the man, who had blue undertones on his pale face, as if he were dead. He’d just looked at her, hauntingly.

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She dizzily stumbled into her room and rocked herself back and forth is her bed, trying not to wake the girls next door and making a note to talk to Dumbledore the next morning.

When the sun finally rose, Hollie rushed to haphazardly put on her uniform and brush, wanting nothing more than to speak to the headmaster and get the matter resolved.

She needed her medicine.

This had happened before, when her mother died. She saw things that weren’t real.

Her mother, crawling towards her, dead and skin festering. Begging her— begging her to pull her up. Promising her happiness. “Hollie, Hollie my daughter, my only daughter. Pull me out of here, please.

Another time, her mother in her bed, sleeping on her pillow. She looked peaceful and restful. But she was dead.

After retrieving the password for Professor Mcgnagall, she knocked on the door. “Candied Cockroaches.”

The door opened and she slipped inside.

“Ah, Miss Hosteed. What a pleasure. I’m sure your transition has been going splendid?” He smiled, but she felt unsettled. It seemed like he was forcing it.

“Yes, Professor. But I’ve come to you about other concerns.” She scratched her neck. “I think I need to go back on my medication.”

His brows furrowed.

She was supposed to be getting better. “I—um I saw a man, yesterday. In the hall. Well, not a man; a boy.”

Dumbledore frowned.

“He looked dead, professor. And he was wearing a uniform, different to ours but it had our cres-” The wizard stood in front of her suddenly seemed pale, hastily interrupting her.

“Miss Hosteed. I’m sure it was just a trick of your mind. If you really do feel like you need it, then you can go and see Madam Pomfrey for a diagnosis.”

Hollie shivered. She had never seen him so rigid.“Ok... thank you Professor.”

Something was very wrong.