If pressed, he might need to admit that he doesn't seem to feel anything as strongly as he used to. Anger is mild annoyance now. Happiness, a gentle sense of contentment. Maybe that's just the way things are, for ghosts.

He pokes his foot a little farther and prods Sirius again, just because, before withdrawing and sitting up, cross-legged, floating just above the seat of the chair. It takes more practice than he's had to really match his surroundings, and he's always going to be wispy and transparent. There's no hiding that.

"I wondered if you'd end up here, you know. Like this, I mean, as a professor. You loved it here so much."