Work Text:
I gave up.
I was lost on the sixth floor. I was going to be late to my first Transfiguration class. Looking around, I tried to find someone to help me find my bearings.
"Excuse me," I said, walking up to a ghostly figure. "Could you help me find my way to the Transfiguration classroom? I'm lost."
The portly figure looked down at me, floating down to my level. He gave me a wide grin.
"Oh, of course," he exclaimed. "I can help you find your way! Go down that hallway and down two levels. It'll be behind the door on your right. Good luck!"
He sped away, giggling.
I shook my head. What an odd ghost. Following his instructions, I ended up at a large door.
I pulled at it. It was locked, so I knocked. The sound echoed off the walls of the corridor.
"Excuse me!" I shouted.
I waited for a couple of moments, then continued pulling at the door in vain. Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm, yanking me backwards.
"What," spat the man, "do you think you're doing?"
With my free hand, I tried to wipe my face.
"G-going t-to Transfiguration, sir," I said.
"A likely story," he said sarcatically. "Don't you know this hallway is forbidden?"
I frowned.
"No!" I exclaimed. "Where does it say it's forbidden?"
"Bah, weren't you listening at the opening feast? The third floor corridor is forbidden!"
"But this is the fourth floor," I argued. "The third floor is dow– British."
"Ah," said the man in realization. "So you're the American." He grumbled, "Knew your kind can't be trusted. Bloody colonials."
"What do you mean, can't be trusted? You're the ones who put the first floor on the second floor!"