Obviously she had. He was quite daft, wasn't he? "Why yes, I did," Morgana answered merrily. "Gonna pop your lid?" Oh look at that, another rhyme.

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The cheek! The vile temerity! How could she use words, his favourite weapon, against him? Barnaby would rather be run through with a rapier a thousand times again, alive to the feeling, than bear her presence for one moment more.

Could ghosts get restraining orders upon people? He would have to beg it of Greengrass.

On that note – “Get away, you starveling!” Barnaby cried, loud enough to startle the pigeons, and now too vexed to rhyme back at the foul-mouthed creature. “Before I have the Spirit Division come and I order them to cut out your tongue!”

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Morgana laughed as she was called a starveling. Really, this ghost was so amusing. She very much doubted the Division could do anything to her, let alone cut out her tongue. Marvolo would be sure to do the same and worse in retaliation.

"A ghost as old of you should have thicker skin, only then against my tongue shall you win." How would he react now, she wondered.

  

If Barnaby had had skin to speak of, he would have felt a thousand needles in it, because every syllable she spoke was an injury to him. Who had put her upon this earth, and what for, save to torture innocent people ghosts?

Barnaby had no words left for her.

So instead, shrieking loudly enough to draw stares from all sides, he swooped bodily through her and through the next three pedestrians, and careened upwards over the roofs of Hogsmeade and away.

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Oh, he was mad! "Oh!" She exclaimed at the cold shock that went through her as he swooped bodily through her, through some others and away. Well, that had been quite amusing. Satisfied with herself, she made her way home to Pennyworth.