Jason sat alone in the Ravenclaw common room, a small fire crackling in the hearth. The blue-and-bronze drapes swayed softly, though the windows were shut tight. He flipped through his notebook, jotting down notes on Confundo and Rictusempra while his mind wandered to his next study topic.
"Alright, Jason," he muttered to himself, "just a few more charms, and then it's off to bed."
A sudden chill crept up his spine, prickling the back of his neck. He froze, looking around the room. The candles on the wall sconces flickered, the flames shrinking as if struggling to stay alight.
Jason frowned. "Bit chilly, isn't it?" he muttered, pulling his robes tighter around himself.
Shrugging it off, he bent over his notebook again. Moments later, his quill rolled off the desk, clattering onto the floor. Jason sighed and reached down to grab it, but the instant his fingers touched the quill, he yanked his hand back.
"It's freezing!" he exclaimed, staring at the now frosty feather.
He glanced around the room, expecting to see an open window or a fellow student playing a prank, but the common room was empty. His eyes flicked to the mirror on the far wall.
A shadow flitted across its surface, something dark and shapeless. Jason narrowed his eyes. "Trick of the light," he muttered. "It has to be."
He stood up, stretched, and pointedly avoided looking at the mirror again.
As the clock ticked toward eight, Jason found himself increasingly distracted. The whispers he'd dismissed earlier were growing louder, though they remained just on the edge of comprehension.
He paused his work, tilting his head. "If this is Peeves again, I swear…" he muttered.
A faint knock echoed through the room. Jason froze, his gaze darting toward the mirror. The glass surface shimmered faintly, but nothing seemed amiss. He approached it cautiously, his reflection staring back at him.
"Alright, mirror," he said aloud, trying to sound braver than he felt. "If you've got something to say, now's the time."
For a moment, everything was still. Then, his reflection flickered—just for a split second, but enough to send a jolt through him. He stumbled back, his heart pounding.
"Nope. Nope. Not today," he muttered, retreating to his desk.
The whispers grew louder, overlapping and echoing as if a dozen voices were murmuring in unison. Jason clapped his hands over his ears, but the noise seemed to seep into his mind.
Books toppled off his desk, landing in a messy heap. Jason jumped to his feet, his wand at the ready. "Alright! Enough of this nonsense!"
But when he turned to the mirror, his heart sank. There, faint and translucent, was the outline of a woman. Her eyes glinted with a cold, malevolent light before she disappeared, leaving Jason staring at his own reflection.
Jason decided he'd had enough. He grabbed his notebook and headed for the door, determined to just sleep it off .
"Oh, come on!" he said, yanking at the door. "This isn't funny anymore!"
A cold breeze swept through the room, ruffling his hair. It carried a faint, mournful cry, the sound of a woman sobbing. Jason's stomach twisted.
"Alright, Ghost" he said, gripping his wand tightly. "If this is your idea of a fun night, I'm not impressed."
The room responded by throwing itself into chaos. Chairs slid across the floor, colliding with walls. A glass of water on the table shattered, the shards scattering in every direction.
Jason spun around, his wand raised, and spotted her. Bloody Mary stood in the corner, her face partially obscured by shadow. Her hair hung in tangled strands, and her lips twisted into a cruel smile.
"Jason," she whispered, her voice like nails on glass.
Jason's heart thudded in his chest. "You've got the wrong guy," he said, his voice shaking despite his attempt at bravado.
The ghost stepped forward, her translucent form gliding across the room. She stopped in front of the mirror, her reflection far clearer than her actual presence. She raised a hand and slammed it against the glass.
The mirror cracked, jagged lines spreading like a spider's web.
"You called me, Jason," her voice echoed, loud and resonant, filling the room.
Jason took a step back, his grip tightening on his wand. "I didn't call you!" he shouted. "This was just a stupid game!"
The ghost's laughter rang out, cold and mocking. "You called, and now I'm here."
Jason stood in the Ravenclaw common room, his wand trembling slightly in his hand. The mirror across the room was now cracked, its jagged lines reflecting the warped figure of Bloody Mary. Her face twisted grotesquely, a mix of rage and sorrow etched into her ghostly features.
Right, Jason, he thought, trying to steady his breathing. No more panicking. Ghost or not, you're a wizard. Bond Training kicks in now.
He raised his wand, summoning the words for the spell. "L-Lumen Veritatis!" he stammered, but nothing happened. The ghost's mouth curled into a cruel grin.
Focus! Jason yelled at himself internally. It's just a spirit with a bad attitude. Remember Flitwick's advice: steady hand, steady mind.
Bloody Mary advanced, her translucent form rippling with each step. She opened her mouth, releasing a piercing scream that shook the very walls of the room.
"Alright, enough of that!" Jason growled, gripping his wand tighter. This time, his voice was firm. "Lumen Veritatis!"
A burst of golden light shot from his wand, bathing the room in warmth and clarity. The light struck the ghost, solidifying her form. Her hair hung in limp, tangled strands, and her eyes, once menacing, now revealed something deeper: an ocean of sorrow and unfulfilled vengeance.
Jason's inner thoughts raced. The essence of this spell isn't just light—it's truth. It exposes a ghost's core, forcing them to manifest completely. What are you hiding, Mary?
The ghost recoiled, hissing as the light enveloped her. She raised her arms, flinging objects across the room with unseen force. Chairs toppled, books flew, and a vase shattered against the wall.
Jason ducked behind a desk, rolling to his feet with a flourish. "You want to throw things? Let's see how you like this!" He jabbed his wand forward. "Exoriflamma!"
Cold, silvery flames erupted around the ghost, encircling her like a ghostly bonfire. The flames licked at her form, causing her to shriek in pain. Jason's mind raced as he controlled the spell. These flames don't burn flesh—they target the spectral essence itself. Painful, isn't it?
Bloody Mary writhed, her screams echoing like nails on a chalkboard. She darted toward the walls, attempting to phase through, but Jason was ready.
"Spectra Tenebra!" he shouted, slashing his wand downward and then thrusting it forward. Shadowy chains materialized, snaking around her limbs and binding her in place. The ghost thrashed, her fury palpable, but the chains held firm.
Anchored. Good. Now to end this, Jason thought, his chest heaving with exertion.
As the clock struck midnight, a resonating chime echoed through the room, and Bloody Mary let out a piercing wail.
It wasn't just a sound—it was an assault. The scream reverberated through Jason's skull, shaking the very foundation of his thoughts. He staggered backward, clutching his head, his wand nearly slipping from his grasp.
"Bloody hell," he groaned, his voice barely audible over the deafening noise.
The room warped and twisted in his vision, the once-familiar shapes of desks and chairs now bending and stretching into grotesque forms. His knees buckled, and he fell to one knee, gasping for breath as his chest tightened.
No. No, no, no, Jason thought, gripping his wand with trembling fingers. I am only at the start to let this end me.
The wails weren't just sound—they were clawing at his mind, dragging up memories and fears he thought he'd buried long ago. He saw flashes of his parents, their faces blurred by time and loss, their voices just out of reach. He felt the weight of his isolation, the gnawing doubt that he didn't truly belong anywhere.
His vision darkened at the edges, but somewhere deep inside, a spark of defiance flickered.
No. Not like this.
Jason gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on the feel of his wand in his hand, the warmth of the magic still coursing through it. He tightened his grip, his knuckles white.
You're stronger than this. Remember the training. Remember why you're here.
The ghost's form loomed over him now, her features distorted and flickering. Her mouth opened wider, the wail intensifying, tearing at his resolve.
Jason forced himself to his feet, his legs shaking but holding steady. "You think… that's enough… to break me?" he spat through gritted teeth, his voice raw but determined.
Bloody Mary's form twisted in response, her eyes narrowing as if to challenge him.
Jason closed his eyes for a brief moment, steadying his breath. He recalled the calming exercises Q had taught him, the importance of focus and clarity when facing overwhelming odds. He planted his feet firmly on the ground, grounding himself against the storm raging around him.
He opened his eyes, the spark of determination now a flame.
"Not today, Mary," he growled.
"Silentius Phasma!" he bellowed, his wand tracing a tight spiral before pointing at the ghost.
The wails ceased abruptly, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. Jason blinked, regaining his focus. "That's better," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. Silence doesn't just mean peace—it means clarity. Now, let's see what you're really made of.
He raised his wand again. "Lumen Veritatis!"
The golden light flared once more, illuminating Bloody Mary's essence. Jason watched as her grotesque form flickered, revealing a shimmering orb at her core. It pulsed with spectral energy, tethered to the echoes of her tragic death.
There it is. The root of her rage, Jason realized. She's bound to this world by vengeance. And anyone who summons her becomes her target.
The ghost thrashed against the chains, her movements frantic. Jason took a deep breath. "You brought this on yourself, Mary."
"Exoriflamma!" he cried, reigniting the silvery flames. The ghost's form flickered and dimmed, her screams now silent but desperate.
With her weakened, Jason knew it was time. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a locket—a simple piece with his family's photo on one side and a mirror on the other.
He began the final spell, his wand tracing a circle around the locket. "Claustrum Animarum!"
The locket glowed as the spectral chains drew the ghost's essence into the mirrored side. The room filled with a blinding light as Bloody Mary's form was sucked into the locket, her orb of energy vanishing with an audible snap.
Jason slumped to the ground, clutching the now-glowing locket in his hand. The room fell eerily quiet. The cold dissipated, and the shattered objects lay still.
Jason leaned against the desk, his wand resting limply in his hand. He turned the locket over, inspecting it. The mirror shimmered faintly, a soft glow emanating from within.
She's in there. Locked away until I figure out what to do with her, he thought.
The photo of his father on the opposite side seemed to watch him, almost as if approving of his bravery. Jason smiled faintly.
He glanced around the common room, taking in the aftermath. "So much for harmless muggle games," he muttered. His voice echoed in the stillness, and he couldn't help but chuckle darkly.
Exhaustion hit him like a rogue bludger. He dragged himself to bed, the locket still clutched tightly in his hand.
"Next time," he whispered to himself as he collapsed onto the mattress, "I'm sticking to chess."
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power stone