16th April, 1891 — Padmore Park
Barnaby glared at the dog yapping at his ghostly heels as he floated through the gates of the park, but soon veered away off the path, letting the breeze help waft him over the lawns towards the spot he’d heard whispers of a commotion with another of the local Hogsmeade ghosts. Whoever it had been, he knew it had called out one of the knaves from the Ministry, and was wondering which one of them it was.
Oh. The hopeless one; Barnaby smirked slightly to himself, because it was his very hopelessness that might lend well to his request. Nevertheless, he floated through a tree and materialised again right behind Robins, more in the interest of theatrics than anything. “Boo,” Barnaby said - sarcastically, although if it were to work as a practical measure in scaring anybody, no doubt it would be George Robins the cowardly ghost-whisperer.
Still, no time for (un)pleasantries, if he wanted to ambush him with the demand: Barnaby had a case to make, and it was Robins’ professional duty to see to it, never mind that he had not even been summoned here for his nonsense today. He cleared his throat. “I have a grave petition to put to thee.”
George Robins/Roberto Devine
Oh. The hopeless one; Barnaby smirked slightly to himself, because it was his very hopelessness that might lend well to his request. Nevertheless, he floated through a tree and materialised again right behind Robins, more in the interest of theatrics than anything. “Boo,” Barnaby said - sarcastically, although if it were to work as a practical measure in scaring anybody, no doubt it would be George Robins the cowardly ghost-whisperer.
Still, no time for (un)pleasantries, if he wanted to ambush him with the demand: Barnaby had a case to make, and it was Robins’ professional duty to see to it, never mind that he had not even been summoned here for his nonsense today. He cleared his throat. “I have a grave petition to put to thee.”
