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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