Dylan, who'd been lying low since returning from visiting his sick father, made his way slowly up to the Fifth floor. Slowly because he wasn't in too much of a hurry to be around too many people...The truth of the matter was that he just had too much on his mind to be bothered with others...

Anti-social. It wasn't a crime.

...And with the added stress of sleeping in the Great Hall with the other houses and having no privacy as of late...Yea, the Slytherin didn't have to much to say to anyone at the moment...

Charlotte, who was currently on the Captain's shoulder, shared in her owner's somber 'tude towards the whole thing. Instead of rubbing her fuzzy legs against his neck as she would have usually done, she was just sitting there. Dylan would've thought something was wrong with her...had he been paying attention.

Entering the room, he glanced around at everyone...not offering a verbal greeting. No. A simple head-nod would suffice...Charlotte was finally moving, crawling her way closer to his neck. Fuzzy legs were finally making themselves known...

It must have been the ghosts...