"Spirits Who Walk on Ceilings"
Chapter One: Spirits Who Walk on Ceilings

Author: Gemma
Category: General, Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Characters and situations are used without permission, no infringement is intended.
Summary: An 11-year-old girl by the name of Jaime Traspe accidentally discovers the old mirror of Rowena Ravenclaw, and brings her back in the form of a spirit. There's something fishy going on, and it's up to Jaime and her crew, Atalanta Mahalia and Jaques Flumogel to figure it out.
Author's Note: This is my first published fan fic. R/R, flame, I really don't care because I had so much fun writing this. Constructive flames are welcome, as are hateful ones-I love to laugh, and I don't insult easily. Hope you like this. Thoughts are written in italics.

* * *

Jaime skipped down the hall, thinking. Nothing, I repeat, nothing is going to ruin today. I'm going to have a good day, and that good for nothing sister of mine is going to suffer if she tries to piss me off in any way, shape, or form.

"Jaime!" a voice rang from the end of the hallway, "Where the hell did you put my nail polish?! I'm going out with Lincoln tonight, and I want to wear that color!"

"Zanir, you are the most pig-headed person I know. Your stupidity amazes me, and your reluctance to face the fact that I am not responsible for everything wrong that happens is definitely not encouraging."

"In English, if you please, dearest sister?"

Jaime rolled her eyes, "I didn't take it. Perhaps you should check up your ass... it could be stuck."

Zanir opened the door to her room where Jaime was standing, her eyes flashing with anger. "You have no right to speak to me like that. Shove off, dolt. I don't want to see you again for the next couple days. If I do, you will be dying a very slow and painful death."

"You have no right to speak to me like that. Shove off, dolt. I don't..." Jaime mimicked, and ducked the pillow Zanir threw at her.

* * *

Jaime pranced around the house, running in to various things, and telling off the portraits who objected. Being only eleven, she was given free reign, for the most part, to terrorize the household. With an older sister like Zanir as an example, she had learned an extensive vocabulary of insults and swear words. With parents like Mr. and Mrs. Traspe, it was no wonder the youngest basically ran the house. Mrs. Traspe was a member of the School Governor's Board, and Mr. Traspe was an important member of the Ministry. Between Mr. and Mrs. Traspe being gone all the time, the girls basically raised themselves, with a little bit of help from Bonnie, the maid.

It was Mrs. Traspe's hope that both girls would turn out to be witches, but Zanir was not, and she was losing hope that Jaime would ever show magical ability. Having not one, but two Squibs in the family was almost too much to bear. She supposed that it was a good thing that Jaime was smart, and would succeed in the Muggle world, but the thought of no magical legacy carrying on-well, that was very difficult to accept.

Mr. Traspe, on the other hand, was very uninvolved- he didn't really care what happened one way or the other to the girls-they were basically money eaters and didn't do too much for his reputation. Every morning, his co-workers would smack him on the back and boom loudly, "How're the Squibs doin' ole' man?" If Jaime turned out to have magic, all the better, but it really didn't matter to him.

Jaime lay in the Sunset room. It really is a beautiful piece of work. If I end up going to Hogwarts, I'd definitely miss it. The room was circular, with a door on one end, a huge window on the other end and gold finish everywhere in between. There was a big gold couch in the middle, facing the window, and there were bookshelves everywhere. Jaime often retreated to the Sunset room when her sister was becoming too much to bear, or when she just wanted to think without being interrupted. Sometimes she wondered if anyone else knew about the Sunset room, but decided that the idea was ludicrous-of course her parents knew about the room. It was decorated in her mother's favorite style and color, and the books had titles that Mrs. Traspe would be interested in- like 'Muggle Make-up- The Magical Way' and 'Beauty Secrets for the Aging Witch- Defy Age and Embrace Youth'. The room was indeed beautiful, but somehow sad. The pictures on the wall were of single people- no couples or crowds, and they all looked.. lonely. When she was younger, she used to make up stories about the people, and how they came to look so sad, but now she quietly observed their movements. They didn't move as much as the other pictures did, and when they did move, it was usually to lie down, or shift into a more comfortable position. Jaime stood up, and walked towards the bookshelf to pick out one of the books to read. When she was browsing the shelves, something gold caught her eye. She moved some of the books out of the way, and in the back of the shelf was a small, gold compact mirror.

"Huh," Jaime wondered out loud, "Would you look at that?" She picked up the tiny object and examined it closely. The top was intricately carved with spiral designs, and etched into the back were six words:

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titilandus

Rowena Ravenclaw

This made no sense whatsoever to Jaime, so she opened it, hoping for further clues. The inside was incredible. The elegant designs from the front were surrounding the mirror part like ivy, and on the top part of the mirror was the engraved portrait of a beautiful witch. She had to be a witch- she was wearing a pointed hat. It was a lovely piece of art. The engraving was painted in brilliant shades, and the woman looked very much alive, even though she wasn't moving, like most pictures. She had shoulder length, almost curly black hair, dark blue eyes fringed with heavy black lashes, a delicate nose, and pouty dark lips, curved in a slight smile. This woman was obviously Rowena Ravenclaw. But the purpose of the mirror was still a mystery. One that Jaime felt she had to figure out, but now was not the time. She pocketed the mirror, and stared out the window at the view of the sunset.

"JAIME!!! I found my nail polish- and you'll never guess where it wa-as!!!!!!!!" Zanir sang from the other end of the house.

"Hmmm.." Jaime mumbled, "I suppose it was stuck in her ass."

* * *

The Traspes sat down to dinner that evening with a glowering Zanir, bruised Jaime, and two thoroughly annoyed parents. Zanir had found Jaime whistling in the hallway outside the Sunset room, and tackled her. While pulling out Jaime's hair and beating on her, she had yelled that her nail polish had been underneath Jaime's bed. At that moment Mr. and Mrs. Traspe had walked into the hallway, and stood there watching the fight from afar, not wishing to get involved. When Mr. Traspe had tried to pull the two apart while yelling, "Now, now Zanir, no need to--- OWWW!" he had been smacked in the cheek. That had been the last straw. He pulled out his wand, and put a freezing charm on both of them. The froze in awkward positions- Zanir was grasping Jaime's hair, and Jaime had her fist pressed against Zanir's cheek. Their eyes were focused on each other, and neither look was friendly.

"For Christ's sake! You are 17 Zanir. You know NOT to beat up your eleven-year-old sister! It was a bloody nail polish--- yes, I realize she hadn't told you where it was.." he yelled. He really didn't like kids.

Mrs. Traspe took over smoothly. "Girls, that's enough. Both of you are grounded to your rooms until further notice. Dinner is in half an hour. Bonnie will come get you." Zanir tried to complain that she had a date, "No, Zanir. Cancel your date with Link or whatever his name is. You are NOT going. Jaime, you may not leave your room to be in the rest of the house. I will place an alarm spell that will go off if you try to go anywhere but the bathroom or your little kitchen. Now shoo. I don't want to see either of you until dinner."

Zanir glared daggers at Jaime, who giggled. Being grounded wasn't that big of a deal to her. She didn't have any friends, and certainly didn't have a boyfriend. And she liked her room. It was on the top story of the house. Her mother had helped her spell the ceiling to make it look like a stormy day and infuse the smell of rain in the walls. There was a huge window on one side of the room, and her bed was up against one part of it, and then a giant chair facing the window. The door to the bathroom was on the left side of the room, and the door to a small kitchen was on the left side. Bookcases lined most of the walls, and a wardrobe was on the other side of the entrance door. The walls were painted a stormy grey, and there were various posters of lightning, rainbows, and rain. On the other side of the bathroom door was a small desk with a lamp on it- cluttered with parchment, quills, bottles of ink, and several books. This room was her other haven, but more than likely, Zanir would interrupt her while she perused her books.

And then there was dinner.

* * *

Zanir was glowering at Jaime, who, for once, knew to shut her trap. Usually her big mouth got her in trouble, but tonight, Jaime decided, Zanir was not going to dive across the table and ruin the splendid meal Bonnie had prepared. Conversation was usually strained at the dinner table, and the only reason they bothered with the traditional family dinner was because Mrs. Traspe insisted upon it. And when Mrs. Traspe insisted upon something, well, there was no arguing with it.

If conversation was usually strained at the dinner table, it was nothing compared to the tension tonight.

"So, Jacklyn, dear, how was your day?"

"It was fine. How about yours?"

"Fine."

There was silence for a long while, then Jaime spoke up.

"Zanir, would you mind passing the biscuits?"

"Yes."

"Alright then."

Jaime stood up, walked over to where Zanir was sitting, took the biscuits and sat back in her own seat.

"Thank you Zanir."

"Any time."

Everyone was silent until the end of dinner, which ended abruptly when a black owl crashed through a window. Zanir started to scream, and climbed on top of the table. Mr. Traspe squealed and ran out of the hall. Mrs. Traspe and Jaime stared at the owl, and then burst out laughing. Zanir walked out of the room in a huff. The owl landed on Jaime's shoulder, and affectionately butted its head against hers, and hooted. She relieved the owl of its letter, waved to her mother, and walked back up to her room, owl still in tow.

* * *

Jaime put the owl on an unused perch in the kitchen, and gave it some water and food. She then flopped into the chair near the window, and opened the letter.

To: My Niece Jaime Traspe

PS- Please keep the owl as a present! I know your favorite color is black.

Jaime took a large breath of air, and then bounced out of the chair and positively screamed, "I'M NOT A SQUIB!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Zanir opened the door to Jaime's room, "What's this about Squibs? Are you insulting me you little brat?!"

Jaime was breathless with excitement, "No, not you- you idiot! I'm not a Squib! I was accepted into Hogwarts!" She giggled and hugged her sister tightly around the neck.

"Get-OFF-me," Zanir hissed, and when Jaime let her go, Zanir prepared to tackle her for the second time that day, but just at that moment Mrs. Traspe came barging in.

"Oh, my darling, I'm so proud of you!" she giggled, "I knew you could do it!"

Zanir was fuming in the corner near the wardrobe, "I'll just be leaving now," she drawled.

"Sounds good to me!" Jaime said enthusiastically.

Zanir left without another word.

Mrs. Traspe was as excited as Jaime, if that was at all possible. "Oh, sweetie, we'll have to go to Diagon Alley, oh, my goodness, I haven't been there in years! And you'll be getting all your school things, and.." she sighed, almost wistfully, "I'm so glad you're going to be a witch! I just know you'll be good. We're going to have so much fun!"

She hugged Jaime again.

"I'm glad too mum. But it's only July 22nd. We still have a while to go."

"Oh, but, my dear, we're going to stay in London! I just love it there, and I haven't had any time off in such a long time! You and I can spend some time together, and get your school things, and I can start teaching you some things, and it will be fun! Now, I'd love to stay and talk some more- but we're leaving in 4 days. I need to go talk with your father. Get some sleep. G'night, love." And with that, she shut the door.

"Boy," Jaime said to the wall, "I didn't know humans were capable of talking that fast."

"Neither did I," said a voice.

* * *

Jaime twirled around, eyes wide. "Who said that? Where are you?"

An amused, musical voice answered, "I'll give you a hint. I'm near an old bit of toast and some-what are these, twist ties?"

Jaime thought for a moment-what on earth did she have near toast and twist ties... Oh my god-the mirror!

She pulled out the golden object, and opened it. Rowena Ravenclaw was awake, and yawning. What on earth?! Jaime was speechless. The picture was now awake and moving when it had been dormant a few hours ago.

"Umm... Ms. Ravenclaw? Rowena?"

Rowena jumped, "Yes, Jaime?"

"Er-what is going on here? Why are you awake? Why weren't you awake before?"

She sighed, "That I cannot tell you, as I do not know myself. But what I do know is that I'm here to help you. And by the way, please don't call me Ms. Ravenclaw. Rowena will be fine."

"But why are you helping me? I don't think I need help---unless you mean to help me beat up Zanir."

"You shouldn't be beating up Zanir. That's not very nice, Jaime."

"You're avoiding the question, Rowena."

"Why shouldn't I? You don't need to know, and I don't know myself." Rowena started brushing her hair.

Jaime sighed, "This is complicated. People will think I'm crazy if I'm talking to a mirror."

Rowena laughed, "I can hear what you think... don't bother hiding. There are some advantages to being dead you know."

Like what? Jaime wondered curiously.

Oh, you know. Reading minds, seeing other dead people, the usual.

Is there any way I can block you from reading my mind? It's rather unnerving to realize that you can read my thoughts.

Rowena thought for a few moments, You could just tell me to bugger off.

Sounds good to me. Can we talk normally for a bit? Too much thinking-I have the beginnings of a headache.

"Sure we can," said Rowena, "But right now, I'm more interested in getting some sleep. Rather tired."

"Be my guest. Do you prefer being in a pocket?"

Rowena yawned heavily, "As long as you take out the toast and twist ties, I don't mind at all... but just leave me out for now. This is a very nice room."

"Fine then."

Rowena fell asleep quickly, her wavy hair smashed up against the side of the mirror.

How weird is that. I get accepted to Hogwarts, and all of a sudden a witch who's picture is on a mirror wakes up and tells me that she can help me, but she doesn't know with what, and won't tell me anything... plus, she's been dead for about a thousand years. Crikey. I'm going to sleep. Mum and I will be going to Diagon Alley, and I have a feeling she'll want to have one of those wonderful mother-daughter experiences. Well, at least I'll have Rowena to talk to... even though that pretty little voice of hers might drive me goddamned crazy.

I heard that, came a sleepy voice.

Bugger off.

* * *

The next morning Jaime awoke at daybreak. She liked to spend an hour or so staring at the sky, and watching the enchanted clouds on her ceiling move and produce lightning. For a few minutes she contemplated the odd dream she'd had about getting accepted into Hogwarts and talking to Rowena Ravenclaw, and giggled at the stupidity of it until...

Good morning, sunshine. Rather early, isn't it? came that unmistakable voice.

Whoa-whoa-that was just a stupid dream of mine... you aren't real.

Rowena sounded insulted, Of course I'm real. How else would you explain the fact that you're TALKING to me??!!

Wow! What a conclusion! Of course you're going to Hogwarts you dolt.

"I would hug you, but that's impossible, so air hug!"

Rowena looked confused as Jaime hugged the air.

"Oh, never mind. You died a thousand years ago. You wouldn't get it."

Rowena looked highly affronted and turned her back in a huff.

"Come on, Rowena, I'm just joking."

Rowena stuck her chin in the air, and Jaime gave up.

"I'm gonna go take a bath and get something to eat. Will you help me pack when I'm done?"

The elder woman sniffed, "I suppose so."

Jaime smiled, and went to go take a bath. She gave her dirty clothes to the house elf, and sunk into the warm tub.

Ahhh, that is wonderful.

She played in the bubbles a bit, and washed her hair. When the bubbles finally disappeared, she hopped out of the tub, and drained it.

"Hinky!" she called, "Would you mind getting a black tank top, the long black skirt, and some underwear?"

"Yes, mistress," Hinky replied, and returned with the garments she had requested.

"Thank you Hinky," she said kindly.

"Welcome, mistress," Hinky blushed scarlet.

Jaime put on the underwear and skirt, and then slipped on the top. They fit nicely, and she admired herself in the mirror. Her long, auburn hair had been pulled into a messy bun with tendrils cascading over her shoulders, and behind her funky, square black glasses, her hazel eyes glinted with mischief. She was very tall for her age, and had a few curves as well. Black was most definitely her color, and contrasted with lightly tanned skin. She had artfully applied some dark lip-gloss. Jaime was actually rather pretty, but she never considered herself so. She walked back into the room, and Rowena was doing something rather surprising.

* * *

"Rowena?!" Jaime exclaimed.

"Yes?"

It was evident why Jaime was so surprised. Rowena had removed herself from the confines of the mirror engraving, and was walking around on two legs. She was enjoying her now human/ghost-like form, and was walking on the ceiling.

Her beautiful face was the same as in the engraving, except in 3-D, but it was her body that was rather surprising. She was extremely tall, even while upside-down. She couldn't have weighed more that 120 pounds, and was very proportionate. She was clad in long, flowing purple robes, with an eagle pin.

Jaime was still stuttering, "Rowena, er, I know this must sound like an incredibly stupid question, but why the hell are you walking on the ceiling?"

Rowena looked at Jaime in concern, "I'm sorry, does it bother you? I can get down."

"That might be helpful."

She got down from the ceiling, "Very sorry, Jaime. I thought you were used to ghosts."

"I am, but I don't believe I've ever seen a ghost from an engraving walking on the ceiling before."

Rowena gave this some thought, "You know, I don't believe I have either."

Jaime rolled her eyes, "So, are you a human, a ghost, a poltergeist, a ghoul, what?"

Rowena drew herself up, "Do I look like a ghost to you?"

"Not really."

"I'm a spirit- my spirit from when I was alive, specifically. I took on my old human form."

"That's all very interesting, but weren't you in the mirror just a few minutes ago?"

"Indeed I was, but it was a bit cramped. I have a lot of spirit you know," Rowena cracked up at her pun.

"I repeat, very interesting. Now what do you say I go eat something, and you watch?"

"I don't know if I'd want to. How are your table manners?"

Jaime stomped off, exasperated, into the kitchen. She pulled out some instant oatmeal, threw some water in it, and shoved it in the microwave. A minute later, she pulled it out, and put some milk and brown sugar on it. Then she grabbed a spoon and sat down at the table in the corner. The kitchen was very small, and Jaime only used it for breakfast--she didn't like to put up with Zanir in the morning. Well, more specifically, she didn't like to put up with Zanir any time, but Jaime refused to eat breakfast with the rest of the family. Her parents had tried starving her to get her to come down, but it was hopeless, so they built her a little kitchen. It was a nice little nook. It had the same cloudy ceiling and grey paint on the walls as her room, with two floor-to-ceiling windows in the corner, with the table in front of them. On the east wall was a refrigerator, freezer, microwave, and small pantry. On the west wall was a counter with a sink to wash the dishes in and a cupboard filled with various plates, bowls, and glasses. Jaime very much liked the kitchen- she had designed it with her mother. When she finished her oatmeal, she threw the bowl in the sink, and stalked back into the room.

Rowena sniffed haughtily, "You're obviously not a morning person."

"Right on one. Don't mind me. I'm going to go bite someone else's head off. I doubt it's good luck to be pissed at a spook."

"I'm not a spook, I'm a spirit."

"Same difference."

Jaime mumbled something, probably rude, but Rowena chose to ignore it.

"So," Jaime said out loud, "Are we going to argue about spooks, or are you going to help me pack?"