White, blinding corridors.
"I'm so sorry, Mr Snape."
The smell of antiseptic and slightly stale urine.
"We're having the place checked over thoroughly."
A silent room, save for the slow drip of water in the sink at the side.
"None of our workmen have found the electrical fault yet. We recommend that you don't go in until they have located and fixed it."
Two forms, outlines showing through the sheets that hide their pitifulness from view.
"The neighbours saw two flashes, about a minute apart. Green. Like lightning, only green."
The first sheet is lifted. His father, wizened before his time. The smell of whisky hits Severus's nose, although he must be a good five feet away.
"No signs of violence, no burns, no blood. It must have been very sudden."
Toby's face covered again, and he turns to his mother.
"They were both on the floor, at opposite ends of the kitchen. We think your mother was trying to move your father away from the live wire – wherever that wire was."
Her face at last peaceful, although as lined and aged as the other. Faded bruises on one side, and a black eye now forever frozen in that washed-out purple-edged phase.
"We found a small wooden stick. She was holding it, so we think she had him clear when she accidentally touched the power source herself."
He touches her cheek, and notes how soft her skin was. Her hands, though, are roughened and blistered with years of manual work.
"You're still in school, aren't you? We can arrange the funeral – there are charity funds for just this sort of situation."
On her wand hand, a blue stain, indelible reminder of her days making potions. He has a similar one on his left forearm, but no-one ever sees it. Not now.
"People knew that your parents fought, Mr Snape, but it's important you know that there was no sign of any attack. No blood, no lethal wounds or signs of poison. It must have been just a terrible accident."
He covers her face again, and wishes she had had the strength not to turn the curse on herself as well.