February 26th, 1891 - Londonderry, Ireland

The muggles seemed to have no intentions of letting them sleep tonight; the doors along the upstairs were rigged to slam, as were, creatively, some of the windows. Every once in a while they could hear the distant sound of someone whispering - they hadn't yet figured out where the muggles had placed the phonograph, and it was perhaps in the walls, but they hadn't managed to figure it out yet. Cash had nearly forgotten his earlier weird brain moment; or, he could pretend he had forgotten about it for as long as they were focused on figuring out all the house's weird little mysteries, which had been occupying them for a while now.

They'd wound their way up to the third floor of the manor, which was mostly the preserved bedrooms of the children (if they had ever been real) and the nanny (see: children.) Cash checked his pocketwatch at the top of the stairs, and saw that it was nearly two o'clock - time had been passing more quickly in the house than he expected.

"Muggles believe in that whole witching hour thing, right?" Cash said, coming to a stop a few steps away from the stairs and glancing over his shoulder at Greengrass. "I wonder if things are about to get a little more chaotic."

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MJ made this!

Tonight hadn't really been playing out the way he had expected, on a multitude of levels. There was the weird stuff, from earlier, but Ford had pushed it out of mind as soon as possible and it hadn't come up again, which was good. There was the house itself, which was honestly more well put together than he'd anticipated; a few of the slamming noises had even startled him, and the whispers made the hair on the back of his neck stand up even though he knew it was just a phonograph. The feeling that they weren't alone in the house, though, was very real and very present, and every time they rounded a corner Ford found himself wondering briefly if maybe they would see a ghost, even though of course he knew it was more reasonable to expect they'd stumble upon a Muggle trying to hide behind a grandfather clock, or something.

Which was the subject of his third mismatched expectation: he'd thought at some point they might actually sleep, but he kept getting glances of clocks in the hallways or bedrooms ticking later and later, and Lestrange had shown no interest in slowing down. He didn't mind, really; he was having a lot of fun exploring. But also: he was tired, and the half bottle of wine he'd had earlier wasn't exactly helping with that, and he had to work tomorrow morning. Lestrange, presumably, did not; he was a Quidditch captain and probably set his own hours, and Ford could guess that none of them included early mornings. Well, he'd learned his lesson about scheduling overnight trips on weekdays, at any rate. Tomorrow was only Friday, so it would be fine if he was tired at work, he thought. He could get through this and just not make a habit of it. Certainly, he was not going to be the one to suggest they go to bed, if Lestrange was still having fun.

"They do," he confirmed, stretching his arms up and to one side to try and keep his blood flowing and thereby keep his brain working at full capacity. It wasn't that two in the morning was that late, for someone who occasionally went to parties and balls and things, so it must have been the wine that had him feeling so loopy already. "What do you think they'll do to up the ante? Honestly, I think the whispers are their best move so far."

  

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Set by Lady!

Cash watched Greengrass stretch his arms, realized he was watching almost immediately, and looked down the hallway instead. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the late hour - just because he hadn't really noticed time passing did not mean that it wasn't. He could pretend that was the excuse, and took another few steps down the hallway, tentative, like that would clear the impulse.

"They haven't done much with the supposed wolves yet," Cash said, "And we haven't found anything about the noose, either, but we could find that whenever. Maybe they'll switch the sound on the phonograph?" Depending on where it was hidden that could be more difficult than it was worth; Cash had a suspicion that it was hidden in the walls, which may have made it more difficult unless the muggles had a way in and out that he and Ford hadn't been able to discover.

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MJ made this!

Lestrange was off down the hall again, and Ford walked after him. He had a lot of energy, despite the late hour, but maybe that came with the territory for a professional seeker. As he thought this another thing drifted to mind: Dorian Fisk in a dark theater making cryptic comments about playing seeker while a contortionist performed on stage. His mouth went a little dry, and he pushed the thought away. He could not start picturing contortionists any time he had a passing thought about Quidditch. Not that he thought about Quidditch all that often, but still — it was too distracting.

"I think the furniture will start moving on its own," he speculated. "They can do that with wires, sometimes. Or magnets, but probably not in a house this size." If they were going to go big for the witching hour, it would be really big, he thought. Something that would have woken them up, had they decided to go to sleep. "Maybe break something with some glass. That's dramatic." Dramatic, but also dangerous and probably expensive to clean up and replace, so maybe not.

  

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Cash looked back over his shoulder at Greengrass, who at least wasn't stretching anymore. "With wires?" he said, obviously enthused, "That's inventive." He was sort of impressed with the muggles for that; his upbringing had never suggested that muggles could be clever like this, and he was sort of delighted to hear that wasn't the case.

"Do you think they'd do that in a more haunted room, or anywhere?" he asked, stopping short partway down the hallway. He wanted to see it, if they were playing with wires. "Hypothetically haunted, of course." No ghosts or poltergeists or cursed objects to be found, so far - Cash was not (really, actually) disappointed, but he would have liked to see such a thing.

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Ford considered the question, putting himself in the Muggles' shoes for a minute. If his livelihood was scaring people who stayed overnight, he would want the furniture moving to be loud enough that it couldn't help but wake them up, and close enough to where he expected them to be that they could see it, when they went to investigate. That was the whole point of the wires, was that they were hard to see — unless you knew where to look for them, the furniture could move right in front of your eyes and you wouldn't know how it was happening. Of course, Ford had approached this with the same sort of candid curiosity as Lestrange had, when he'd first seen it. He was less interested in how it was moving than in how Muggles were moving it, which had allowed him to learn how to spot the wires quicker than the typical skeptic.

"I think they'll do it in one of the rooms next to the ones they told us to sleep in," he speculated. "Or right above us. Something loud enough to wake us up, if we were asleep. And then something in the hallway, in case we were brave enough to go look."

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Cash hummed. "Maybe we should pop down to the second floor then," he said, "To see it." Maybe the muggles knew where they were in the house and maybe they didn't, but if they were going to mess around with wires and other technology then Cash wanted to see it directly. Besides, it was sure to happen soon - if they'd gone to bed this would have been a good time, and since they weren't they were clearly ready to be frightened.

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"Sure, let's go," he agreed, turning back towards the staircase. He wasn't exactly sure he remembered which rooms they were supposed to be in, since they'd spent no time at all actually settling into them before setting about exploring the house, but they'd figure it out. Presumably anything that was loud enough to wake up a sleeping guest would also be loud enough that they were unlikely to miss it.

As he reached the stairs he turned his head to one side, trying to get his neck to crack, then reached up with one hand to rub his shoulder. He wondered, idly, if there was anything in the kitchen they might be able to take. That probably wasn't allowed, but he could have just about died for a cup of tea right now, or coffee if they had it — and if they were careful enough about it, the Muggles might not even notice a few cups were missing. They had to have something like that on hand, didn't they? Presumably there was a breakfast in the morning, though he hadn't specifically asked about it.

He made it to the landing at the second floor and tilted his head the other way, rubbing his other shoulder. "D'you want some tea, if I can find some?" he asked, looking back at Lestrange.

  

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Set by Lady!

Greengrass' shoulder caught Cash's attention, again; not because he was particularly muscular (he wasn't), but the angle of it. It was the thought of him using his height to push Cash against something. He was thinking about this and trying not to think about it when Greengrass reached the second landing, and replied to his question about the tea easily: "Yeah, sure." He could drink tea with Greengrass without thinking about his shoulders, which he ought not think about anyways. He hadn't even placed the why yet, and had decided it was an objective thought; Greengrass was tall and being tall was attractive, and that was nothing Cash ought to be thinking about.

He followed Greengrass to the landing, regardless. He could hear the whispering from the phonograph, all of a sudden; the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

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"Great. I'll check the kitchen," he said, continuing down towards the first floor. "You can go watch for flying furniture, if you want. I'll bring it up," he said cheerfully. His step had an extra spring in it as he continued down the stairs. Hopefully there was tea, because he was already looking forward to it. Even if there wasn't, he might just make a cup of hot water to help keep his eyes from straining.

"Don't die," he called back. It had been long enough since the episode outside that he had stopped watching what he said, vis-a-vis death, obviously.

He had just reached the kitchen when he heard a crash from upstairs, where Lestrange presumably still was. He hovered in the doorway, wondering if he ought to go investigate or whether to continue the pursuit of tea.

  

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"I'll try," Cash quipped, although really it would be just like him to somehow perish on an excursion to a muggle haunted house.

Cash leaned against the wall and waited for something loud to happen; focusing on the possible impending shock was enough to clear his head. It was barely another minute before the portraits on the walls started to wiggle back and forth, like they were being more possessed by a poltergeist - less chaotic than that, though, because the movement was just back and forth, not the genuinely haphazard motion a poltergeist could cause. That wouldn't have been remarkable on its own, but scarcely thirty seconds after the portraits started up something loud and wooden slammed against the wall of the hallway. Cash jumped, startled by the sound - and poked his head into one of the bedrooms that the muggles had pointed out to him and Greengrass. The dresser slammed into the wall again as he did so, and Cash grinned into the room.

"It's started," Cash called over his shoulder, sure that Greengrass had heard the slamming from downstairs on his quest for tea.

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Ford looked wistfully back towards the kitchen, but if Lestrange was calling down to him staying and looking for tea wasn't really an option. This was the whole point of being here tonight, after all, and if he disappeared right at the height of the action he was going to seem weird and antisocial. Well, at least it seemed as though whatever was about to happen was going to be eventful enough to keep him wide awake, even without the help of tea.

He skipped a few steps as he went back up, hurrying so he didn't miss anything. At first he didn't see Lestrange and opened his mouth to call out and ask where he was, but then he noticed the open door. With a half smile, he started towards the room — then a thought occurred to him and he changed his gait, moving more quietly past the swinging pictures and the whispering walls.

He could see Lestrange through the doorway, and he had his back turned to the hallway while he looked at a dresser — the perfect set-up.

"Boo!" Ford called, reaching out to grab Lestrange's ribs from behind and already grinning at the mild prank.

  

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Set by Lady!

He was trying to see the wires connected to the dresser in the dim moonlight of the room when he felt hands on his ribs. For a heart-stopping fraction of a second Cash thought ghosts are real! and popped backwards in an instinctual, skirting move - if he was thinking about it he would not have popped backwards, when the hands were coming from behind him.

He stopped, still short of making physical contact with Greengrass' body but certainly closer to him, and looked up over his shoulder at the other man. Cash grinned, sort of delighted by the prank despite his surprise. "All right," he said, "You got me. Very ghostly."

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Ford had already been grinning, but when he saw that the jab was well-received he transitioned to light laughter. "You did say you wanted to be scared," he pointed out. He tucked his hands about halfway into his pockets and moved to lean against the door frame, which put slightly more distance between him and Lestrange, but not much.

"You jumped," he pointed out. It was needless to say it, but he was moderately proud of himself for the fact, so verbalized it anyway. Being able to startle Lestrange made him feel sort of... well, it was hard to say exactly. He felt like he was used to letting other people take the lead in social situations, and always second guessing himself. It had been that way ever since he could remember — even his sisters could bully him, if they really tried and Noble wasn't around to force him to stand up for himself. Having done something spontaneous with no suggestion from anyone else, and having it come off well, made him feel like the tables had turned, just for a moment. It seemed as though he could be the one who was surrounded by friends, and fun at parties, and play Quidditch (except obviously he could not actually play Quidditch, but it was more about the feeling of the thing than the actual athletic ability) — and, maybe, who knew — maybe he could be the one making confident yet cryptic comments in dark theaters and someone else could decode them later and feel embarrassed and abashed about it.

He fleetingly wished he had something in his hand, like... a cigarette, maybe, or a glass of scotch. He did not, historically, enjoy either of those things, but it just seemed like the sort of accessory to complement this sudden mood. He realized that he was being ridiculous, though: he kept his hands in his pockets, and pushed his smile down from manic to something more muted. "Was it the dresser that made that noise?"

  

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Set by Lady!

Greengrass' smile was so bright that Cash was a little charmed by it; and Greengrass was right, he had jumped. There'd been a moment where Cash had really genuinely been frightened, not because of something paralyzing in his own head but because of an actual adrenaline rush.

"I did jump," Cash admitted; he turned to actually face him, and aware of the proximity to the less-bright-now smile, he took a half-step back into the bedroom. "It was the dresser, they slammed it against the wall." The drawers were a little ajar, now, disturbed from the crash; presumably at some point before their next guest the muggles would go through and set things to rights again.

As if to prove his point, the dresser slid forward.

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Ford's eyes slid from Lestrange to the dresser as it moved. He didn't see any wires, at least not right away, but his curiosity was piqued. The pictures in the halls could have been magnets or any number of other things, but for something that big there really had to be a wire somewhere. That, or they had to be using magic. That was sort of a funny thought, now that it had occurred to him — it would be really, really easy to run a place like this with a little magic, and if most of your clientele were Muggles they'd never know the difference between a wand and an elaborate trick house. Presumably the Ministry wouldn't be happy about it, though, if they caught wind.

"Well, let's take a look, then," he said brightly, springing up off the doorway and moving towards the dresser. This was the burst of energy he'd needed, it seemed, not the tea — he was feeling perfectly capable of going at this for at least another hour, all of the sudden. He approached the dresser and waved a hand in front of it, then vaguely over the sides; nothing caught. Probably on the bottom, then; that was a better place to pull it from, anyway, to keep it from toppling over.

"Can you stand there in case it moves again?" he asked, but did not wait for an answer before laying down on the ground and wriggling halfway beneath it, peering up at the bottom. "I don't want to get crushed tonight."

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