He had come back from visiting Sam in the Sick Bay and had walked into his rooms to find a small, round ghost in dark blue robes sitting on the purple sofa. She was happily swinging her feet, which did not quite touch the floor. Septimus was not pleased. “Good morning, Miss Djinn,” he said stiffly. “This is an unexpected surprise.” “You mean an unwelcome surprise,” Jillie Djinn replied tartly—and correctly. Septimus remained standing by the door as if waiting to usher the ghost out, even though he knew there was nothing he could do to make her leave. “A ghost will go where a ghost will go,” was a saying wearily repeated in the Castle by those who could not get rid of unwelcome ghostly visitors. “Don’t worry,” the ghost told him. “I’m not staying. I’ve come to say what I’ve come to say and then I will go.” “What have you come to say?” Septimus asked. From the little smirk playing around the ghost’s lips, he guessed it was not something that would be welcome.
