Paperwork was not and would never be a particularly exciting aspect of Ford’s job, but there was something to be said for having things neatly done. There was a certain feeling of accomplishment when he finished a stack and everything was exactly as it ought to be, exactly in place, which he never experienced when he was dealing with other administrative tasks — for instance, the sale of stock or property, or anything having to do with his family’s financial situation, really. It was a nice change, too, from some of the wilder spiritual guests he’d been dealing with lately. Christmas was a busy time for his division — not, he suspected, because the spirits were actually behaving any differently than they always did, but because people were busier and less inclined to put up with any nonsense from their undead roommates.

He had just delivered a stack to another department and was taking his time returning to his desk, strolling leisurely through the Ministry halls. At least, he was strolling leisurely until he heard a very familiar bloodcurdling scream. He knew at once what, or rather, who had caused it and picked up the pace until he was lightly jogging back to the hallway which contained his office. He rounded the corner just in time to see a ghostly woman who had been menacing a passerby — the recipient of the scream, no doubt — disappear through the wall into someone’s office.

“Good gracious,” he muttered under his breath, weary already at the prospect of chasing her down. “Quite sorry about Isabelle,” he called to the ghost’s harried victim. “She’s not supposed to be out.”