Hello! So although this story's setting isn't the Victorian Era, I figure it belongs here. Also if you've never listened to Für Elise, I suggest you open a new page and go on YouTube right now because it's a beautiful piece of music. Enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Cassandra Clare's Shadowhunters. Much of this work relies on her book Clockwork Princess.

Dedication: TobiasWillJaceFinnickFourNine, for her birthday. She allowed me to publish it online, and if she ever shortens her username on this site she's getting twenty stories all to herself.

Für Elise

"This one room is haunted," Helena said cheerfully.

Elise's blood froze in her veins. As if this place, this Institute that Helena led her through, wasn't terrifying and far enough from home already… Elise had trouble understanding the horrible English accent that everyone spoke with in here.

"Haunted?" She checked.

"Yes," Helena said. "By a Shadowhunter of some sort. She must have died a hundred years or so ago."

"Oh," Elise said. "It's a she?"

"Yes," Helena said. "A very girly 'she', at that. Do you wear lots of skirts, Elise? See, if you brought any, she'll be messing around with them. You'll find them all over your room, as if she's been modeling them and judging your choice of colour. Same thing with makeup and jewellery."

Elise's hand closed around the family ring around her neck.

"She doesn't touch them," Helena promised. "Especially since she was an orphan herself."

"Are there other ghosts in the Institute?" Elise asked.

"No, it's just her," Helena said. "She does a good job at protecting us. Sometimes when things go wrong, she blows out the candles and torches to warn us. She even helps us minors eavesdrop on the adults during Enclave meetings sometimes- it's quite thrilling. She used to lead me around when I had just gotten here, kept me from getting horribly lost- something about my family name. Apparently she likes Fairchilds."

The kitchen was dated, but it still smelled sublime. There were bottles of spices lined up against the wall, an icebox whose door had to be shut because of how full it was, loaves of fresh bread cooling on the table and more in the bread oven, pots happily boiling on the stovetop… A woman with strong arms and a kind face, brown hair pulled up in a tight bun, stood with her.

"Anything that comes out of here is absolutely delicious, of course," Helena said. "But tomorrow at breakfast, I'd recommend the scones."

"The scones?" Elise frowned.

"Yes. It doesn't matter what's in them- chocolate chips, cheese, cinnamon- just take a scone if you see any," Helena said. "The recipe's been passed down to the kitchen staff for years and years. I daresay they've probably perfected it since."

Something rubbed against Elise's leg and gave her a heart attack, especially after all those ghost stories.

It was just a cat, a little tabby with scrawny legs and a missing eye. It mewed at her.

"Hi, Benny," Helena said warmly. The cat mewed and let itself be picked up. Helena cuddled him. "I haven't seen you in a long time, have I baby? I'm glad to see that you didn't go and get your other eye pulled out, eh?"

Helena answered Elise's frown.

"We take in tons of stray cats," Helena said. "I don't know where the tradition comes from, but there are always cats in here."

"This is the drawing room," Helena said. To clutter the room with more than the comfortable looking couches, dusty artefacts were strewn everywhere. Framed battle maps from victorious conquests, a sword hanging on the wall, a piano with dusty keys and rusty pedals, some paintings, more books, some portraits of old Institute Heads…

"I didn't think that you'd have instruments here," Elise said with a nervous smile. She glided towards the violin like someone might rush to their house's front door after a long trip. For the first time since Superintendent Sundance had dropped her off at the Institute, she was reaching for something familiar.

"Oh yeah. Someone left that here a long time ago," Helena said.

Elise pulled back her hand backwards.

"Oh, no, go ahead," she said. "If we went around being careful with things just because they're old, we'd have to wear body suits and gloves. Only be careful if you see teeth or a sharp edge."

Gently, as if it may in fact have teeth, Elise picked up the violin.

"It's beautiful," she said looking at the instrument. It was clean and polished and made out of a richly coloured wood. Not a string was snapped, and the arch that went with it was equally lovely.

She rested it under her chin and ran the arc along the strings. The sound was smooth and beautiful on the first try, making Elise smile. She adjusted her fingers and her favourite piece filled the room before she knew it.

"No," Helena said shaking her head. "I think that the playing was beautiful."

The library blew Elise's mind. Her poor focus had never made her much for reading, but she did like the look of books. Old books with yellowing pages and that smell currently racing up Elise's nostrils, new books fresh off the print, books with smudged letters because of the ink unable to dry, books, books, books.

One was open on one of the tables in the center of the library. Elise frowned when she saw scribbles in it.

"Who would write in a book?" She asked.

"Everyone does," Helena said. "Most books here are annoted. Definitions, underlines passages, notes on emotion in plays... We don't know who, but after a while you start recognising penmanship. Like, this one girl –well, I assume it's a girl- wrote in many, many copies of Shakespeare and you recognise her writing in Dickens too. Funny, isn't it?"

"Okay, just… pinch your nose, okay?" Helena said.

"Pardon?" Elise asked.

"Pinch your nose," Helena said. "The basement smells a bit… Well, you get used to it, but it can be rough the first time."

Elise did what she was told and Helena brought her down a step of creaky stairs that Elise wouldn't have gone down if it were up to her.

Despite her efforts, Elise was coughing and gasping for air within seconds.

"I told you so," Helena said. She looked stoic, completely undisturbed by the horrific smell. "See, this is why the basement is empty. We don't even use it as storage- the smell just clings to things, it's horrible. I've locked the boys down here a few times, though..."

"Where does it come from?" Elise managed to say. The basement was completely empty, save a splotch of glitter in the middle of the floor.

"There used to be a library here in the nineteenth century," Helena said. "I guess you can only achieve so much scientific progress without any –ah- long-lasting side effects... Let's go back upstairs before you cough up on of your lungs."

At supper, Elise was quiet and she hesitated to reach for any of the pots and platters on the table. What Helena scooped up and plopped in her plate and told her to eat, however, was delicious. Stew, bread, cheese, fruits, quiche- it was absolutely delicious.

She felt out of place. Her best clothes- the ones that she wore whenever Superintendent Sundance would allow the children out for a day in Idris' streets- looked like rags compared to what the other Shadowhunters were dressed in, or frivolous and old-fashioned and prudish compared to their gear. She felt like her limbs were too long and too thin- all these trained Shadowhunters around her were intimidating.

The head of institute, Cyrus Whitelaw, was kind. He was younger than most of the Shadowhunters, but only a few years older than Helena and the boys she was deep in conversation with- having been hastily made head a few years ago during a war that nobody talked about. He talked to her.

Still, she'd been excited for night to fall and for her chance to retreat to her room (which, thankfully, was not the ghost's room). That is, until she walked in and saw how most of her clothes were strewed about- like Helena had predicted. The thought that it was a prank crossed Elise's mind, but she rather not think about it that way. If she couldn't trust Helena in this new Institute… she was doomed.

She couldn't get a wink of sleep after that, and how well she'd have slept minus the ghost was also debatable. Her strategy for falling asleep at the orphanage had been to get up and go get a drink of water about twenty times. Knowing nothing different, she pulled a robe around herself and left the room. The twisting corridors confused her, however, and so within seconds she was at the last place she'd wanted to be- the drawing room with the old, creepy portraits on the walls.

Well, maybe not the last. The violin was there, and Elise's fingers itched for it. She hadn't been allowed to bring her own instrument with her- Superintendent Sundance had classified it as a 'donation to the orphanage' and since there wasn't anything Elise could do to prove that it was in fact a family heirloom, she'd had to obey.

She picked up the instrument and settled on playing the Shostakovich 3rd Violin Concert. It was the last piece she'd learned, the most difficult one in her opinion.

"I liked the piece you played earlier better," someone said. Elise nearly dropped the violin as she turned around in shock.

The girl in front of her was all pearlish and metallic greys. Her hair cascaded in tight curls, her elegant figure clad in a torn, worn out dress that looked like it'd fallen from a different period.

Elise couldn't scream which was probably a good thing. The ghost tilted her head to the side.

"It was much nicer," she said. "I have no idea why you would change."

"I'm sorry," Elise said.

"You don't need to apologise," the ghost said. "Go on. Play it now."

Her hands shook so badly, she nearly couldn't play. Somehow she stumbled through the entire piece without making it sound too horrible.

"He played that piece all the time." She said.

"Pardon?" Elise asked.

"The boy who owned that violin first," she said. "Who loved that violin with all of his heart. He swore he'd come back for it one day, and I am guarding it until he does. He was my friend."

Elise felt herself blush and she put the instrument down.

"I'm sorry," she said although he wasn't sure how a dead boy could come back and claim his violin. Although Elise really should have been smarter and understood what Helena meant when she'd said that someone had 'left' the violin there.

The ghost rolled her eyes, but her face looked soft. "He played that piece all the time."

"Für Elise," she said softly. "That's what it's called. Beethoven composed it."

"Isn't that your name?" The ghost asked. "Elise? Élisée? Elissa? Elsie?"

"Yes," Elise said quietly.

"Were you named after the piece," the ghost asked.

"I named myself after the piece," Elise said quietly.

The ghost stopped and looked at her for a second.

"You are an orphan?" She asked.

"Yes," Elise said.

"How old are you? Twelve?"

"Thirteen."

"Thirteen and very skinny."

Elise blushed.

"What happened to your parents?" The ghost asked.

"They died of Demon Pox, in the early stages. One of them inherited it from my grandparents- it was in their blood," Elise said.

The ghost grinned for a flash second, which Elise didn't understand.

"And you have lived where before yesterday morning?"

"The Idris Orphanage," Elise said. "I was under surveillance for the Pox. They say that I got lucky."

The ghost nodded for a second, her curls shifting ever so slightly.

"You're lucky, Für Elise," she said. "This Institute is kind to orphans. It always has been. The boy who played that violin- he was an orphan. That boy on the wall-"

She pointed to a portrait of a man with blue eyes.

"-He was as good as orphaned when he arrived. His wife was. There were others, many others. Nobody here had anywhere else to go in my time," she said. "And we all made this place our home."

Elise nodded.

"It will come," the ghost said. "Do not worry. I will help you. I will make this place your home- the London Institute cannot and will not lose its essence."

The ghost headed straight for the wall, as if she were about to walk straight through it, but she paused.

"Also I think you should watch that violin for my friend," the ghost said. "It looked at home in your hands, and a violin is not guarded if it is not played."

She disappeared.