Snape had finally finished with his meeting with the headmaster and glided back to his classroom. Throughout his walk back he notice a aura of dread laying thickly over the castle.
I got worst as he drew closer to his destination, but he put it out of his mind. He was used to the emotion after so many years of spying, it didnt faze him anymore.
The portraits near his classroom were eerily silent, something that to his memory had never happened. They were always so full of life and a constant buzz of chatter. Now, they acted as if someone had died.
Gliding towards his door he noticed the room had a faint smell of cooking potions. Quickly he opened the door, snarling in rage, because the imbecile had disobeyed his commands. He was going to enjoy his punishment.
But as the door opened past the point where he could see into the room he could sense the wrongness immediately. A potions room is always dirty with ingredients and his in particular always looked filthy.
As he took in the room he saw immaculate origination. Sterile tables, chairs, and cauldrons were all precisely placed to give the impression of effortless poise, like the person who put them there carefully positioned them.
He was impressed, his room had not looked this clean in an age. He never allowed house elves in the room in case of accidents. and he long since stopped trying to keep it clean. The students never cared either way.
Finally looking past the strange perfection of the room he noticed the boy carelessly laying on the floor. The longer he stared the more he raged, the boy was supposed to be cleaning. Ignoring the fact that the boy he was referring to had already made his classroom immaculate.
He stalked closer and came to a stop near the last Potter. Grabbing ththe arm laying outstretched arm in annoyance, trying to wake the layabout up. He saw the vial slip out of the limp hand, but took no note of it.
Giving a huff of frustration he shook the imbeciles shoulder. Getting no response he started to panic, most would wake up at the furious movement. Casting a diagnostic he got one answer.
Dead.
Dead .
Dead.
Harry Potter was dead.
Now, he noticed the vial, rolled so carelessly out of the way.
Did someone poison him?
Was this on purpose?
Did he, Did he kill himself?
Now he took note of the letter in the bo, Harry's other hand.
Snape sneakily grabbed the parchment and started to read.
Dear Whomever Finds Me,
I know this must be a shock...
Hello, my name is none of your concern. I have this ability to somehow have capitalizations throughout anything I write. Tell me of any mistakes please. If your want to flame, go right ahead, you may need this outlet right now.
Thanks and have a apathetic day.