The Man and His Box

Chapter Three- The Ghosting

 Luna’s shaking body slipped to the floor, where she lay crying, her face in her hands. Rose saw the expression on Harry’s face, and stepped forward to cradle to girl in her arms. Her wide eyes met the Doctors, and his solemn expression answering her silent question. Rose’s eyes began to water, and she buried her head into Luna’s dirty blonde hair, rocking her gently back and forth. 

Just then, the body on the bed began to shake.

‘NEVILLE!’ Cried Harry with joy. He leapt towards Neville’s body, which had now started to writhe among the bed sheets.

Dumbledore quickly stepped toward the raven-haired boy, grabbing his arm before he could reach the thrashing body. ‘Harry. Wait. He is not alive. Please just wait.’

Harry turned to glare at the aging headmaster, but didn’t move any closer.

A sharp and painful gasp caught his attention. Neville’s body had stopped thrashing about, and now his mouth was open in silent scream, the rest of his body stiff.

The Doctor strode to the boy on the bed. ‘What’s wrong with him? Why is he moving? He is dead. I was his pulse leaving, I know he is dead. Dead people don’t move.’ He turned back to face Dumbledore, eyes full of questions.

‘Wait.’ Said he simply.

The tall man closed his eyes and grimaced, before standing protectively behind Rose, who leaned back on his legs, still cradling the sobbing Luna.

Luna stopped her crying to raise her bloodshot eyes, and stare expectantly at Neville. Harry was going to ask what she was waiting for, but before he could, a misty cloud rose from his friends open mouth.

‘Is-is that his soul?’ Harry asked shakily.

‘That’s ridicules. You can’t just-‘ Began the Doctor, but before he could finish, Luna stood up, surprising Rose who jumped back, making the Doctor fall onto the ground. The girl towered over him, and spoke with such fury in her voice that Harry stepped back himself.

‘Luna. Let him be. He isn’t from this world. Are you?’ Dumbledore placed a calming hand on Luna’s shoulder, guiding her to stand next to the bed.

Rose helped the Doctor back to his feet, her eyebrows raised. ‘When was the last time you let a teenager knock you off your feet?’ She whispered in his ear.

The Doctor grinned back at her, then coughed and looked pointedly at the scene unfolding before them.

The strange white mist that had risen from Neville’s mouth had now taken shape. It looked like a mirror image of the boy on the bed below.

Then Neville began to speak. At first it was just mumbled nonsense, but then it became louder and louder. Most of what he was saying sounded like gibberish, but Harry caught the word ‘ghosting’ occasionally.

The Doctor’s eyes widened in amazement, and he stepped to the bed, thinking hard.

‘He is speaking French. And German. Was that Latin? I don’t even think that that language is invented yet. Oh wait, it’s Ujjah. Rose, he is speaking in all the languages of the universe. Listen, their all there!’

‘Doctor what are you going on about? This is a school boy where talking about, I would be surprised he knew more than two languages.’ Replied the blonde.

The Doctor whipped something from an inner pocket. It looked like a thick metal wand, and when he pointed it at Neville who was still talking gibberish. It made an odd whirring noise, and a blue light shone from the end. He studied it intensely, as if it would tell him some secret.

Rose snatched it from his hands. ‘You can’t sonic that boy.’ She said scornfully. She then dragged him backwards, leaving the three others y themselves.

‘It’s his soul. He’s ghosting.’ Supplied Luna, seeing the look on Harry’s face.

‘So he’s becoming an actual ghost?’ Asked the Doctor eagerly, but stepped back hastily, raising his hands when he saw Luna’s expression.

‘Yes. His body and mind has decided to linger on this Earth. The words he is speaking is a kind of incantation, that lets him become a ghost. Miss Lovegood is correct, the process is called Ghosting.’ Said Dumbledore, as if this happened every other day.

The mist was now the exact size of Neville. The ‘Ghost’ Neville floated up towards the ceiling, stopping when he became completely vertical. Then, his eyes flew open at the exact time as the actual Neville’s eyes opened. Ghost Neville’s eyes where the chocolate brown of physical Neville’s, and physical Neville’s where the pearly white of a ghosts. Slowly, the brown eyes faded into the pearly white, and the ghost began to slowly turn and examine his surroundings.

The Neville on the bed went limp, his eyes, now brown again, closing. They would never open again.