He wasn’t a ghost- that she knew for certain.   He wasn’t a poltergeist either.&nbs

He wasn’t a ghost- that she knew for certain.

He wasn’t a poltergeist either.  He never knocked things over, never shut lights on or off, never came near a door or a window pane or a curtain. 

No one seemed to notice his presence but her.

To Rose he seemed more like a guiding hand- a gentle touch on the shoulder when she was feeling sad, a nudge on her elbow when she hung back from the group, a whisper across her cheek when she got top marks on an exam.

But most of all, she felt him when she planned a prank.

Rose always knew when he had come to visit her.  She would wake up in the middle of the night with an idea in her head that seemed to come from thin air.  It was always something that seemed far beyond her abilities, the sort of trick that would require more daring and skill than she could manage.  But she felt deep in her bones that she had to try.

Those were the ones that earned her the biggest laughs, the most admiring looks, the longest detentions.

Professor Longbottom would send an owl home, and it would come back laden with smoking Howlers (from Mum and Granny and Uncle Percy) and notes of amused admiration (from Dad and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny).

Only once did she get one from him.

It had been after the Halloween prank she pulled during her fourth year.  She enchanted all the castle’s toilets to sing loudly any time they were in use.  Any charms to try and muffle the noise would only enhance it.  The castle was filled with the garbled tones of wizard and Muggle songs mixing inharmoniously and drowning out the professor’s attempts at lessons.

She got three months worth of detention for that one.

A week later, a handsome tawny owl brought her a hastily scribbled note. 

He’s still there, isn’t he?

She knew.  Sometimes, particularly when Dad was in the middle of recounting her latest prank, he would look at her with such pain and recognition in his eyes that she knew instantly of what, of whom, he was thinking.

He’s here, Uncle George. And he’s happy.