"Oh you menace!" she howled, and jerked as if to chase him off. But the dog, having finished his business, merely shook himself and scampered off, his tongue lolling out as he grinned smugly.

Draco couldn't help but smile too as the witch slammed her door shut again, and he carried on walking the same way as the dog. "That was a bit rude now, wasn't it?" he admonished playfully. His mother had taught him never to be afraid of speaking to the people of the realm as they were all equal by All Hallowed law, and as funny as he thought the dog's little display was, it was his duty to promote harmony.

The dog however turned his head and glanced up at him with a frown, then plonked his arse on the stone as he looked him up and down. "And who exactly are you supposed to be, Sunshine?" he asked in a low, gravelly voice.

Draco blinked at him and watched as he scratched behind his ear with his back paw. "Excuse me?" he asked, finding it hard not to be insulted.

The dog didn't seem bothered though. "You a new arrival?"

"I am Draco, Darkling Prince and Lord of the Realm," he said indignantly. "And you'll kindly address me as Your Highness."

The dog smacked his lips and stood, shaking himself and making the costume bat wings wiggle. "Nah, you ain't," he said. "I can tell, not like all these other numpties. You weren't here yesterday, and now you are. And what with it being Halloween last night, I'm guessing you got pulled down."

He started to trot away, and Draco was only able to stare at him for a moment, before hurrying after him. "What the Devil are you talking about?" he asked, perplexed, but the little dog just sighed, bored.

"Well," he said, which with his rough accent sounded more like "Wew." "You found a portal I'm guessing, and they're always weakest near the date of their own holiday. Ringing any bells?"

"No," Draco said, folding his arms.

The dog grunted. "You found a doorway what looked like a pumpkin on a tree, and you fell through it. Happens more often than you'd think."

Draco stopped walking and let his hands fall, his gaze not quite focused on anything at all. "What did you say?" he asked.

"Pumpkin door – you remembering now?" the dog said, pausing to look up at him. "If it's your first day, you should still be able to remember."

Draco shook his head, dismissing the idea. So what if he could picture a door like the dog was describing, that was just a case of using his imagination. "I took part in the annual hauntings yesterday, just like I do every year," he said. "There was no pumpkin door, I slipped through the shadows in the cemetery like everyone else up into the Living Land and back again. Nothing I haven't done time and again."

The dog shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, unconcerned as he sniffed at the bottom of a drain pipe. "What do I care if you never get home?"

Draco drew himself up taller. "I am home," he said, but something tickled abruptly at the back of his mind. The word 'home' made him think of a castle, sure, but it wasn't the castle that loomed behind them. It also made him think of a grand house, and a woman with light blond hair. He shook his head and pushed that thought away. His mother was back in the dining hall, finishing her breakfast and readying herself for a good day's wailing.

"Tell me exactly what you did yesterday," the dog said, sitting himself down on his hip again. "Take me through, from start to finish."

Draco frowned at such a silly question. "Why should I?"

The dog gave a little grown and then barked. "Ruff! Just answer the question..." He rolled his eyes. "Your Highness."

Draco was irritated, but he also knew he hadn't been feeling right since he had risen, so he figured he might as well play along with this nonsense for the time being. "Well, I woke, washed, dressed especially for the day-"

"What did you wear?"

Draco thought that was an even more ridiculous thing to ask, but he found he couldn't quite answer the question right away, like he thought he would. Instead, he looked down at himself and pulled at his lace cravat. "Much the same as this, I suppose."

The dog huffed. "You suppose?" he repeated. "Give me details."

Draco opened his mouth again, trying to picture what shade of coat he'd worn, the design of his cufflinks, the cut of his boots.

He found he couldn't recall a single thing.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, he was aware he had a whole wardrobe full of clothes; he knew which trousers went best with which shirts, he had a fine collection of capes and handkerchiefs and belts, and he had inherited a number of silk waistcoats from his father after his passing. He had crafted a certain look, and now he found the people had come to expect it, so he supposed it wasn't all that unusual he couldn't quite pinpoint precisely what he had worn the day before.

"The waistcoat yesterday was navy," he lied, thinking of one he had hanging up back in his room. "The trousers dove grey. Happy?"

He wasn't sure what it meant to the dog to know either way, but it irked him he couldn't answer properly. He should just walk away, stop engaging with this ridiculous beast, but the odd feeling he'd woken up with was still lingering, and now this creature was challenging him on what he could remember, he wondered if the gaps in his mind were related.