Tempora Enim Habebat

All Ages
None
Character Study, Crossover, Drabble, General, Humor

Author's Notes:

This is a collaboration between myself (stevetheicecube on Tumblr) and my girlfriend (the-doctor-is-mine on Tumblr). She wrote this chapter, and I edited it, and we will write chapters alternately.

Clara sat bent over in the armchair, crackling fire illuminating the look of intense concentration in her eyes as she scanned the heavy book in front of her. The fire light was low, purposely meant to discourage students from studying late into the night. Many students ended up with eye strain by the end of their fifth year.

"I will do this, promise," she said, glancing up at the ghost hovering by her side, patchwork covered arms crossed and one eyebrow quirked upwards. He was her other light source, though the silver light that radiated outwards from the ghost lit barely half of the large common room, leaving most of it in an eerie shadow.

"You know, there REALLY is no need for this, my dear. I have survived for fifty years this way." He said, his words not matching the look of a teen. Clara had yet to ask him how he died, and why on earth he was wearing that coat when it happened.

"Nope. I am getting you your colourful coat back. No objections." The first year student snapped the book shut and stood on tiptoe, placing it on top of the huge pile next to her chair. Professor Song had not wanted her to take so many books out of the library, but Clara had been good all year so far, and she'd returned all her books on time, so the librarian had no sound reason not to let her take out all the colour related charms books.

Clara had been at this thankless task since six o'clock, and it was two in the morning now. Most of the books had been useless, mostly about magical painting, magical artists and charms that were useless or way beyond her level. Holding back a yawn, she snatched up the next book and set to reading. Colin leant over her shoulder, peering in a vaguely interested manner at the text.

"What's that?" he asked, jabbing at a point on the page and tutting as his finger went straight through it. It was like he wasn't used to being a ghost, despite boasting his fifty years of death.

Clara blinked up at him, shaking the sleep from her face.

"That..that's a spell for..for..ughhh.. Something. Changing the colour of objec-" She paused for a yawn. "Changing the colour of objects. Not ghosts. Sorry..."

"You should sleep, my dear. No good will come of anything this late at night." The ghost attempted a friendly pat on the shoulder, instead sinking straight through Clara's arm and making the girl shiver at the cold prickling, a contrast to the warmth on her face from moving as close as possible to the fire for the light.

"No! I WILL find the right spell. I promised!" She put the book down and pulled out her wand, a sudden burst of energy bringing with it a fresh idea.

The thin stick of wood swished through the air, grabbing three books and flicking them to certain pages, dancing in front of her face.

"If I just combine these, maybe, just maybe I can do something with this. Laetus..um.. Laetus Torcus? Laetus Praedictum?" Each attempted spell was accompanied with a hasty flick in the direction of the ghost, who stood looking decidedly unimpressed.

"Clara, you have classes tomorrow. Get some sleep, my girl. Lack of sleep and spell mixing is not good for anyone, let alone eleven year old girls with classes tomorrow."

"No! No, I've got it! Laetus Obnocticus!"

Nothing happened.

"Well, that was anticli-- OH!"

A sudden flush of colour blossomed over the ghost's heart, spreading in curling tendrils over his face, his hands, his legs. Dull grey curls turned bright blond in an instant, and then, finally, the coat. Blinding light spread through the previously monotone patchwork, leaving it a clashing, eye-watering rainbow of glorious colour.

Clara grinned, clapping her hands and jumping up and down as she watched the transformation.

"Yes! I TOLD you I could do it! I TOLD YOU!"

Colin looked down at his freshly coloured form, beaming in appreciation.

"My dear Clara, for a first year, you truly are something."