The time between the Bulstrode girl's visits seemed to drag, and though he did venture out into the school at times (mostly very late at night, when everyone but the ghosts slept), he found himself drawn mostly to two areas: the library and the dungeons. The library, of course, held a vast treasure trove of useful information that would detail the workings of nearly any spell or potion that he could dream of, while the dungeons held the various material components he would need for potions and more complex spells.
Right now, in fact, he was sitting in a high-backed chair he had Transfigured from a fallen piece of masonry, and reading a rather interesting treatise on the ethics of necromancy. While such childish concerns as whether it was right or wrong to muck about with life and death were of absolutely no interest to him, the author had been gracious enough to describe several reanimation rituals in great detail
( ... )
Ginny could not have said what caused her to falter as she was about to walk away. In the dimmest corner of her mind she swore that she heard something, saw something, felt something. She forced herself to turn around, finding the corridor as empty as it had been seconds ago, but still the niggling feeling ate at her. Crossing her arms over her chest in a ridiculous attempt to shield herself from the invisible menace, she was tempted to just scamper back to the Gryffindor Common Room and forget she was ever here
( ... )
He tried to master his own mind, tried to dredge up the circumstances of their previous meeting from his memories, tried to rationalize to himself just why he knew her face, but all he could manage was an inexplicable certainty that he had met her before.
As she stepped into the bathroom, all his instincts told him he should remain hidden, that he should do nothing to arouse the suspicion he felt emanating from her in waves to an even higher degree, that he should perhaps even wait until she had gone and surreptitiously kill her. But his instincts had been wrong before, he told himself, and once his curiosity had been awakened, nothing could stand in its way.
A tiny magical stirring, nothing more, would be sufficient to place in her mind the subtle notion that she was not alone in the bathroom. And as she investigated further, he would lead her to him step by step.
And then he would know her secret - his own secret as well.
Opening her eyes, Ginny could see quite clearly that the bathroom was empty. She laughed at herself out of habit, walking to one of the mirrors so she could see the concern fade slowly off her face. It was funny, really, how instincts worked; how some part of her knew before her conscious mind did that there was something wrong. She could pinpoint the exact moment the vanishing concern turned to horror, and her face went whiter than death.
It took her a moment to know why, and for the first time Ginny was glad of the one secret she had kept from everyone. Harry had never taken to Occlumency, but thankfully she had; she certainly hadn't expected Snape to say yes when she had sought him out for lessons, had been stunned when he said yes, but she was grateful now
( ... )
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Right now, in fact, he was sitting in a high-backed chair he had Transfigured from a fallen piece of masonry, and reading a rather interesting treatise on the ethics of necromancy. While such childish concerns as whether it was right or wrong to muck about with life and death were of absolutely no interest to him, the author had been gracious enough to describe several reanimation rituals in great detail ( ... )
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He tried to master his own mind, tried to dredge up the circumstances of their previous meeting from his memories, tried to rationalize to himself just why he knew her face, but all he could manage was an inexplicable certainty that he had met her before.
As she stepped into the bathroom, all his instincts told him he should remain hidden, that he should do nothing to arouse the suspicion he felt emanating from her in waves to an even higher degree, that he should perhaps even wait until she had gone and surreptitiously kill her. But his instincts had been wrong before, he told himself, and once his curiosity had been awakened, nothing could stand in its way.
A tiny magical stirring, nothing more, would be sufficient to place in her mind the subtle notion that she was not alone in the bathroom. And as she investigated further, he would lead her to him step by step.
And then he would know her secret - his own secret as well.
Reply
It took her a moment to know why, and for the first time Ginny was glad of the one secret she had kept from everyone. Harry had never taken to Occlumency, but thankfully she had; she certainly hadn't expected Snape to say yes when she had sought him out for lessons, had been stunned when he said yes, but she was grateful now ( ... )
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