The Grey Lady's mouth fell open with the mention of that name...Isfret...she could hear it echoing in her head as she walked around the circle kicking the salt out of the way to release Peeves.

She glanced at her fellow ghosts with a little bit of panic in her eyes and then said to no one in particular, "Perhaps we should head to the Spirit Room to discuss this..." and without waiting for a reply, she floated through the wall and on a mission to their room.

Goodness gracious that poltergeist was loud.

The Friar stayed where he was in the sofa, leaving the interrogation to the other three ghosts. That was until he heard Peeves say something about someone who had a problem with them all. It intrigued and worried him. Slowly, the Friar emerged and floated around the back of the barrel, opposite Sir Nicholas. Yes, he had a bad feeling about this.

Which was only made worse when Peeves was released and said the name. Isfret.

If he'd had blood still it would have drained from his face. Looking around the room, the Friar returned the glance that Helena had given them, his own eyes widening with worry. "Yes. Yes, dear lady. That's a very good idea." Spirit Room it was.

Exactly. That was EXACTLY the reaction Peeves had been expecting. Once the ghosts were done with him, they would float off in a huff and a puff like the Friar's house to go worry some place else.

No one ever wanted to play with ol' Peeves anymore. Perhaps that was why he'd gotten involved with Him anyway...

Shaking his head and starting to hum a lively tune, Peeves adjusted his bowtie and then zoomed down through the floor of the staff room, on a mission of his own. A few notes of his humming could just be heard from the ground floor and below:

"For he's a rotten old spector,
For he's a rotten old spector,
For he's a rotten old SPECTORRRR,
From which nobody can really hide!"