Here's the prompt for the last four

Your prompt is to take one ghost and one Marauder and write a drabble about them. They must interact, there must be a conversation. They must mention cheese ... I lied, they don’t have to mention cheese at all. As a heads up, the Marauders don’t have to be school age but this conversation has to take place at Hogwarts.
And here's the lovely linkie thing for you all to use (pretty please)

And here are this weeks four fantabulous drabbles.

And boy-oh-boy am I glad I don't have to vote.

Title: Secrets
Ratings/Warnings: 3-5th
A/N: Takes place the year Remus teaches DADA.
A/N:From the Lexicon: The Baron is the ghost of a man who a millennium ago loved Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw. When Rowena lay dying, she sent the Baron to find Helena and beg her to come back. Helena refused and the Baron lost his temper and killed her. In his remorse, he committed suicide with the same knife, and now carries the bloody evidence of his crime on his ghostly clothing.

The Baron always meets my eyes. In the corridors and the Great Hall, everywhere. I’ve never seen him look at anyone else the way he looks at me, but perhaps everyone thinks that. Even in school, when he saw us sneaking around when we should have been in bed, he used to shoot daggers at my friends only to look at me with curious appraisal. Only now do I understand this: He knew what I was.

Only a fool would underestimate a Hogwarts ghost—least of all, the Bloody Baron. I think he must see everything, know everything that happens in this place. And yet he is silent.

Some say he can’t talk, but I don’t believe it. Some even claim to have heard him hiss warnings in a grim, hoarse whisper, but that sounds like rubbish to me—the sort of thing James and Sirius used to invent in our darkened common room in the early hours of morning to make Peter twitch.

I wonder why the Baron is on my mind as I walk toward the kitchens for something to eat. Walking the halls takes my mind off things… and tonight, after spending time with Harry, I need a distraction.

The Baron startles me even though I’m thinking of him. He hovers near the wall opposite the kitchens, and suddenly, I know why he was so strong in my thoughts: he’s often down here, moving between the dungeons and the Slytherin Common Room. He roams these corridors slowly, intimidating Peeves and whoever else may have the insight to cower at the sight of his crimson stains.

Despite his tragic, gruesome history, I’m not afraid of him. He’s a ghost, and there are far worse evils that have roamed these halls. No, I think I pity him. His love was too great, his anger beyond control. The Baron wears the stains of crime and love and hate and murder and shame. And when he looks through me, into me… I see what I could become. I, too, must shield those around me from my own potential to rage and kill.

The ghost looks around, up and down, and back to me. “You judge me, Wolf?” His voice is low, but nothing like the one the students pretend to have heard from him.

His words rouse something inside me: We are very much alike, the Baron and I. A shiver whispers against the back of my neck and I reach to rub it away. His eyes are hard but I look into them, through them to the wall behind. “I’ve no right to judge any man, Baron. I think you know that.”

He looks about to say something nasty, but instead, his lips smash together in a thin line. He'll say no more, and yet, he has given me something: a kind of secret, and one I’ll be certain to keep. I owe him that much. After all, he seems to have kept mine.

************************************************** *****************

Title: Settling In
Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd/none

For a person inclined to solitude, Hogwarts could be hell. You just couldn’t seem to escape the crowds. But, if you knew where to look, there were little nooks where you could sit alone for hours, with only your thoughts for company.

Sirius had already discovered many of these places, found certain ones matched certain moods. This one – a small alcove overlooking the grounds down towards the front gates – was one of his particular favourites for brooding in.

He had never once been discovered or interrupted in that particular alcove, so he was astonished and rather peeved when Nearly Headless Nick floated through the wall beside him.

With a scowl, he grudgingly responded to the Gryffindor ghost’s greeting. The scowl only deepened when Nick showed no inclination of leaving.

“Not with your partner in crime causing chaos in the common room, Mr Black?” asked Nick, completely unperturbed by the less-than-friendly welcome he had received.

Sirius shrugged non-committedly under the shrewd gaze of the ghost.

A slightly uncomfortable silence descended as Sirius kept his gaze fixed firmly away from Nick. It wasn’t that he disliked the ghost – they’d had several enjoyable conversations in the first few weeks of term – he just got the impression that he wouldn’t particularly enjoy this conversation.

“I’ve heard the things your family has said to you about your sorting,” Nick said, confirming Sirius’ impression, “and I’ve seen you shrug them off like they are nothing. Yet, here you are, hiding from the stares and whispers of the common room.”

Sirius glared. “I’m not hiding!”

The awkwardness of silence threatened again, pulling words unwillingly from Sirius’ lips.

“It’s just- I’m not like that. What they all say about me. I’m not! And they always watch, like they’re waiting for me to slip up and do something ‘Slytherin’. None of them think I belong in Gryffindor – they don’t want me there.”

“None?” Nick replied. “I think James Potter would be rather upset at being included there, and he wouldn’t be alone.”

Waving off Nick’s words, Sirius continued. “They don’t count. The others, though, they just look at me and see a Black, not me. I just want them to know that I’m not like the rest of my family – getting into Gryffindor is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“They’ll see that.” A sigh escaped Nick. “It will just take time. Have patience.”

Sirius laughed darkly. If anyone could talk of patience, it would be the ghost who had to endure forty-five axe strikes.

“But perhaps it might help,” Nick went on, “if they could actually see you, which can’t happen while you hide yourself away in a corner.”
Nick turned, and made to float back through the wall, but paused.

“Oh, yes, James did mention that he would appreciate another pair of hands in distributing the bulbadox powder, not that I would dream of aiding such mischief-making.”

With a wink, the ghost was gone, leaving Sirius with some new thoughts for company.

************************************************** **************

Title: Guilt and Betrayal
Word Count 495
Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd, none
A/N: Tried to work in cheese, but no luck.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, when everyone else was asleep, Peter sneaked out to the Shrieking Shack. At first, he had gone to be alone. Remus hated being there when it wasn’t the full moon, so the Marauders went other places. He would pace, practice his magic, and worry about the upcoming war. The others didn’t understand. He wasn’t ready to die. They were only seventeen. He had a whole life ahead of him. He wasn’t like Sirius who needed to take a stand against his family, or Remus who needed a cause to fight for, or James who needed to protect Lily... not that she needed it. He was just Wormtail, the smallest and least of them in every single way.

Now, the Shrieking Shack is the only place that he can be human. After making sure no one is there, he transforms back into his human shape. It’s been nine years since James and Lily died... nine years since Sirius tried to kill him. Harry will be coming to Hogwarts in September. The Dark Lord is still out there, somewhere. Peter is sure of it. And when he returns... Peter will be there. Because he is still afraid to die. Because he still isn’t James, who died for his wife and his son, or Sirius who went to Azkaban, or Remus who is probably working on some other cause now.

He closes his eyes and tries to think back to happier times. Back when being friends with James and Sirius made him feel like he was someone important too. Back when they were first learning how to become Animagi. Back when the most important thing to them was a great prank on Snivellus or going on the pull in Hogsmeade.

Unbidden, his mind summons a distant memory. During their first year, James had dared him to ask the Bloody Baron why he was covered in blood. He had wanted to look cool, so he agreed. They had tracked down the Baron in the dungeons after class.

“Go on then,” James urged him.

“Do it,” Sirius added.

When he hesitated, Sirius pushed him forward.

Peter walked up to the Baron, trying not to shiver too much. “Excuse me,” he said, voice cracking at the worst possible moment.

The Baron turned around, chains clanking, and gazed at him, but said nothing. His eyes were blank, almost as if he had not heard Peter at all. The Slytherin House Ghost was known to be reclusive, so Peter pushed on: “Why are you covered in blood?”

Vaguely, he heard James and Sirius high-five each other.

For a moment, Peter had thought the Baron was just going to leave, slide through a wall and refuse to answer.

Then the Baron replied, “Betrayal.”

“What?” The word escaped him before he could stop it.

“Guilt and betrayal,” the Baron intoned, before vanishing.

Peter opens his eyes and transforms back into a rat. Scabbers should return to Percy soon.

************************************************** **************

Title: When A Good Man Goes To War
Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd years - mild profanity.
A/N: 'When a good man goes to war' is taken from the Doctor Who episode, A Good Man Goes to War. All credit to Steven Moffat.

They were four boys who went to war and none of them really survived. One gave his life, one gave his mind, one gave his finger, and the other sits in the empty Great Hall twelve years later. Remus isn’t sure what he gave the war, can’t quite decide on one particular thing.

(One: he gave his friends. Two: he gave his trust. Three: he gave his trust in his friends. The war took all of these things.)

Every day, Remus sits and thinks, trying to list everything he sacrificed for that bloody victory—the victory that has never felt like a victory, not even when he met the living, breathing, full of blood and beating heart Harry. It’s an act of selfishness that he likes to indulge in, just to push the knife into his heart a little more.

Sometimes, he will find a quiet corner of the library while the students are at dinner. Sometimes, he will go to the lake, watching the half-hearted moonlight and smoke from Hagrid’s hut. Sometimes, he’ll just walk, not thinking about where he’s going until he finds himself standing before the Fat Lady.

Tonight, though, he’s sitting in the Great Hall at midnight, watching the enchanted ceiling from the comfort of a hard, wooden bench.

“Hello, Professor. Sickle for your thoughts?”

He’s managed to ignore the Fat Friar for five minutes since the ghost first floated in through the entrance. Now, Remus looks at him and gives a weary smile. “It would seem far too self-indulgent to a man such as yourself, I’m sure.”

The ghost smiles back, chortling lightly. “After the centuries, self-indulgence is both my friend and my foe. I know plenty about self-indulgence, but I also know plenty about the living. The look on your face is not one of self-indulgence, young man.”

That’s not a word Remus hears too often in relation to himself. He’s heard old, haggard, scruffy, thin, unlucky, and sickly. Never young.

(Four: he gave the war his youth and the war took it gladly.)

Remus closes his eyes briefly.

“Tell me,” he asks, “what look is on my face?”

The ghost’s smile falters and he looks at Remus with a piercing sadness.

“You look like you miss someone.”

Remus’s hands clench the seat until he’s sure he could claw his way through the wood, into the floor and the dark beyond.

“So do you.”

The Fat Friar nods and drifts away, looking out of one of the windows and onto the grounds. Remus watches the ghost fiddling with the drawstring around his plain robes.

“That’s what happens when a good man goes to war, Remus Lupin.”

He breathes in with a sharp gasp but the Friar has already drifted out into the night.

The next evening, Remus finds his way to a statue of a humpbacked witch, climbs in and curls up on the grubby dirt floor, waiting, waiting, waiting until the memories find him.

(Five: everything.)

This is what he gave the war.

Madam Carmerta