Disclaimer / Author's Note I do not own the Harry Potter Universe or its characters. I merely own the original characters you don't recognise.Thank you for reading. I am very excited to be writing this. It's extremely fun to toy with my idea of another Potter.
Description Aurora J. Potter grew up privileged, with the price of having to follow all the rules that comes with being a respected pure-blood in wizarding society. She can't choose her own clothes, her own friends, or even her own likes and dislikes. Though she soon realises that her thoughts may not be her own either. There is a bounty out for her head, and there is a psychopath determined to collect it.
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Chapter Six
Auror Tradition
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I'd been questioned relentlessly the very next day by every person in a position of authority. The headmaster, the school staff, the aurors, and even Anne - who'd been called up here so suddenly - had come demanding to know what'd happened. I could answer none of them. All I could tell them was the truth: I'd walked into his book storage, walked out, and then he was dead. Still, when I spoke the words hadn't come out that simple. They'd stumble and stutter and I'd do nothing to correct it other than stare blankly at the wall as the voices all around talked at me.
I hadn't slept at all. I was scared that if I did I would see the body again. And I didn't want to see it again. Never again.
You did it, the voice in my head had told me. I shuttered as I questioned what it meant for a moment. Last I checked, I did absolutely nothing. All I'd wanted was a book, I argued back internally. I found myself trying to defend myself again my own thoughts as I'd suddenly realised what it implied. That somehow I was responsible. And if the unwanted thoughts told me I did, that was almost proof enough that I was guilty.
Had I done it?
"Enough, enough!" Anne's angered voice hurt my ears. Her arms wrapped around me protectively and her eyes narrowed towards everyone on the opposite side of the headmaster's desk. Suddenly, they'd stopped talking as they knew that Anne would continue to talk over them. "She is just a little girl, how dare you put her through such - such -"
"She was the only witness around," an auror reminded her as if he were speaking to a mere child. I looked at his name tag. Henry Brocher. His surname wasn't recognizable. Not a large one, and I assumed that it meant he wasn't a pureblood that Anne would take seriously. And judging by the harsh look she'd given him, I'd say that I was right.
The headmaster stepped in, refusing to meet the eyes of anyone in the room. He looked even more sick than he had yesterday.
"Mr. Brocher is right," he said slowly, eyes now studying the floor carefully for some sort of answer. I felt Anne's arms stiffen around me at his words. "She was the only one there. The only one that could give us answers."
Before I could even blink, Anne snapped at them all that I'd told them all I knew, and that was that. Unfortunately, the others had been reluctant to believe this and insisted that I must have known more. I shrunk as the yelling began, scared and anxious. The only one that seemed to be on my side was Anne, as always. My arms wrapped around her instinctively and I buried my head in her chest to hide my face. I felt an intense pressure in the back of my eyes. Tears, I knew. Normally I'd refused to cry in front of anyone like I'd been taught - not suitable behavior for a prideful pureblood witch - but even then I found myself not being able to care.
The door to the headmaster's office opened and shut loudly. And as the rushed footsteps of Minister Lotte came bustling up the staircase to where everyone was gathered, the yelling had stopped. I dared to take a peak. Lotte's hair was tussled, like she'd only just received the news. Her wide eyes went to me and she asked the same thing everyone else had.
"What does the girl know?" she sounded like she was trying to keep the venom from her voice, but failed miserably. Not only that, but like every adult she didn't speak directly to me. I was too emotionally drained to care. I didn't want to speak anymore. To explain things about a dozen more times than I already had. My bed was calling to me to stay in all day and night.
"She tells us she doesn't know," said Brocher, bitterly. Lotte scoffed as if it were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. Before she could talk, Anne had once again swiftly and sternly cut him off with a look of intense hatred.
"She knows nothing," Anne sounded like she was tired at this point. This time, her voice became quite hoarse. "As she's been telling you this entire time "
Lotte was appalled by Anne's sudden nerve to speak to her like this. She reveled in the shock for a moment before a glare came about her face. She looked to be searching for something to say. Anything to say that could move this along somehow. Her face became a tinted crimson from holding her breath, then looked at me with even more of a sour look than she had before. I looked away, hoping that somehow she'd take the hint that I didn't want to speak to anyone. She didn't.
"She probably did it herself," Lotte's words struck an immediate nerve in not only me, but Anne was quick to step in front of me like a lion protecting her cub. Her words caused Anne to be momentarily mute for a moment, her mouth opening and closing at the audacity Lotte conjured like a fish. I could tell she was debating whether or not defending me further was worth losing her job.
"You - you - how dare you -!"
"She's a child," snarled Brocher. This was the first time he'd opened his mouth to actually defend me. And this was also the first time that'd I'd allowed someone to call me a kid without me having to say something about it. Apparently, he'd only thought I knew more than I'd been letting on - not actually having gone and done it. The auror looked to Headmaster Knox for some sort of defense of me. Surely, he knew his student. Surely, he would have nothing but nice things to say about a little girl such as myself.
I was wrong, too. Knox looked as though he's swallowed a lemon then. His eyes looked warily to me, and I looked at him hopefully as my heart began to pound within my chest. The question rose for mw whether or not I'd really done it - and exactly why I'd really began to think so myself. I knew where I'd been. I knew that I didn't do it.
Right?
"She's, uh - " He was stumbling over his words. He knew I was innocent. I couldn't have done it. Then he broke his gaze from mine and I saw him swallow hard. "The only suspect."
My heart sank to the floor. I was going to get expelled. My new wand would be snapped. The scream that'd wanted to come out had caught in the back of my throat and became nothing more than a mere small choking sound. Anne's fingers went to my hair and she held me close to her side, ready to defend me more so if necessary.
And the adults began to yell at one another once more. Throwing insults. Pointing fingers. The whole she-bang. All I managed to get before I'd completely blanked out was that there was no way it could have been anyone else if I'd been the only one in the room and the only student out of bed near that area at the time. That was what threw me. The voice in my head began to take over, telling me that they were right. That it couldn't have been possible for it to be anyone else.
It couldn't have been anyone else.
"We'll have to conduct an investigation on the premises, headmaster," Brocher waved off, pinching the bridge of his nose. He tried to steady his breathing as he laid out the law. "I'm sorry." He shifted towards Lotte, who herself had tired herself out with all the arguing that'd gotten nowhere and asked: "What do you suggest?"
She was the boss after all. She didn't even look at anyone, just kept her fingers where they were rubbing her temples and let out a sharp breath from her nose.
"Aurors at every corner of the school until the perpetrator is caught," she'd finally decided after several beats of hard silence. "Question every student that you can."
Anne stared at her blankly. As did I. There was no telling exactly how many students were in this castle. I wondered if they were going to take the time to question every student individually like they did me. If not, I'd deem it completely unfair that they didn't get the same horrid treatment that I had to get.
"Every student?" She'd asked the minister as if she'd though the woman was joking. "That could take weeks."
But Lotte did not want to hear of it.
"Did you forget?"
School was canceled for a week to give students time to recuperate from the loss per orders of the headmaster. It was insane, how we didn't even make it to the second day before something had went seriously wrong. I spent all of my time in my bed with the curtains drawn so nobody could see me or get the idea to speak to me. So far, everyone in my dorm had been questioned first. I'd heard their whispers. They thought I'd done it as well.
It was hard to ignore them when they were right there.
My fingers gently went across Lookie's fur as I stared at the wall with a stoic expression. He'd been my only friend since I'd been here. The only one that didn't seem to cringe when he saw me. Not like the others here. Not only that, but he couldn't talk either. No room for gossip. He just sat and listened to me, even though he couldn't understand a word I was saying to him. It gave me a comfort that I didn't know I'd needed until now.
My stomach ached. I hadn't eaten much for the last few days. Occasionally, I'd been brought up some fruit, juice, or water to tie me over by reluctant peers until I managed the gather the nerve to face the dining hall. I was scared and actually wanted to go home. Which, in turn, had depressed me even further. I tried to remind myself that there was time to make some sort of friends, but I felt as though it were the end of the world. I'd ruined all my chances surely.
I refused to cry. My eyes began to burn again and the pressure became intense from trying to hold it in once more. The curtain to my dorm slid open, letting in the harsh sunlight and causing me to recoil.
"You need food," said a male voice. My eyes took their time to adjust to see a boy with a prexy badge pinned to his shirt instead of his robes. Behind him, the girls were staring on at me like I had something to hide. Upon my silence, the prexy elaborated. "A teacher sent me up here to escort you to the dining hall."
My eyes only narrowed at him at his words. I wanted to use what little bravery I had left to tell him what was on my mind. I struggled to speak for several seconds, desperate to force the words out but failing. Pushing my anxiety away, I spoke.
"Like hell they did," my voice came out little, but I knew they'd all heard me. The prexy himself had an expression that remained unfazed by my cursing but the girls had either gasped or hung their mouths open a bit. I turned my body to face the wall once more, shifting Lookie a little more roughly than I'd intended to.
The older boy only audibly sighed.
"Don't make me have to send you to the headmaster," he threatened. I knew he wouldn't actually do it, but was just trying to persuade me out of bed. Yet the thought of seeing that man that'd dared to say that I'd done it made my stomach lurch. I growled, pushed aside my blankets and climbed out quickly to over exaggerate my anger.
And so he led me away. If I hadn't seen whispers and stares on my first day, I certainly was seeing them now. More vicious than before. More judging than I'd ever seen them. I tucked myself away under the arm of the older boy, who looked down to me with absolute pity and put his arm around me im comfort. He began to whisper above the others, telling me that it was going to be okay, to focus on being a little kid right now and making friends rather than everything that was going on, to get some food and he'd take me back to the dorm rooms to sleep again.
"There's no way she could have done it," said someone not - so - quietly. "She's just a kid."
Someone then sighed to her. They looked older than me, too. Tall, one of them being very pretty, and a face full of big girl make-up. The ones that Anne had said I wasn't allowed to have until I was big as well.
"The world is messed up nowadays, you know," the ugly girl countered, holding a paper in her hands and flashing it towards the pretty one that'd been defending me. "Especially the wizarding world. Not to mention she seemed to voice her opinions pretty clearly. It's no coincidence. Trust me, I was reluctant to believe it, too. Just look at how small she is."
By the time she's been done talking all I could do was look back at them with a glare that I'd struggled to keep hostile. The prexy told me to keep my eyes forward and not listen to them. I looked up to see he was giving his own nasty look at the girls as well. I listened and looked at him instead with fascination. He actually believed me. He didn't think it was me that'd done it.
"What's your su-" I paused, and corrected myself. "What's your name?"
He glanced at me, offering me a small smile and stuffing one hand into his pocket as he led me to the edge of the Horned Serpent table.
"Dolace Codd, but friends call me Dole," he told me with a nod, beginning to put food onto my plate. He didn't ask for my name. He already knew. Everyone did by now. Yet, he didn't seem to mind. I tried go search my mind for some sort of conversation to make. Something I knew wouldn't offend him or something. His voice cut through my thoughts. "Eat."
"I'm not hungry," I'd told him stubbornly. He wasn't having it. He only raised a single brow and pushed the plate further towards me. He seemed to watch me intently then, waiting for me to take a bite. So, I did. Just to appease him for some odd reason. I couldn't resist the food anyhow.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the auror standing on either side of the head table. Their eyes reminded me of that of a hawks. Inevitably, it scared me. But at least they didn't seem to be bothered with me. The only ones that seem to think I'd done it were the students close to my year and very few older students. I honestly began to question which was worse - the fact that the older students looked at me like a poor small baby that couldn't lift her own wand or the younger students that thought I'd murder someone. A teacher, no less. I may hate muggles and all, but I'd never. . .
The thought was too much to bare. I shook it from my mind and forced myself to focus on the sweet taste of peach juice, my favorite. It lasted mere seconds.
"Dole?" And there it was. An older girl with another bored looking boy by her side. She looked like she was trying to keep her face as blank as possible. "What are you doing?"
"Eating," he replied, putting a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Then, his expression grew rather dull. "I sure hope you aren't on your bullshit again. Let it go."
She hesitated, but stood her ground. She looked to me like I was some sort of virus and then back to Dolace, who dared her to speak. Which, she was dumb enough to do anyways. She crossed her arms over her chest and opened her mouth. The boy next to her just put a hand on her shoulder in a poor and lazy attempt to stop whatever it was she had been about to say.
"Joanne, don't," he'd warned her. "She's just a kid, man."
She only shrugged his hand roughly off of her shoulder.
"You don't think little kids can be capable?" she sneered. I narrowed my eyes at who I would call Hoe-Anne from then on. She'd made it clear that she was part of the few big kids that were more reluctant on my innocence. "Be real, have you seen documentaries?"
The boy began to stare at me as Dole and Hoe-Anne began to bicker at one another, as if trying to decide if his friend had even an ounce of a chance of being right. I stared back at the dark eyes that almost matched the color of his skin and hair. When I'd given up and shyly looked down at my plate hald eaten plate of eggs and ham, he sighed in exasperation.
"She probably doesn't even know what death is yet," the boy had said to her, trying to tug her arm along. She was reluctant to leave without Dole, but her friend was stronger than her. I watched them go out of the corner of my eye and begin to argue further down the table, a few students joining in to wave off Hoe-anne's concerns. Eventually, she'd gotten mad that nobody seemed to listen to her and stormed out of the dining hall. I'd then lost my appetite.
Dole already knew before I'd even set my fork down.
"How about me and you go to the library to the library and I can teach you some things from the big kids class, yeah?" He'd offered to me. It actually grabbed my attention. I'd learn something from the big kids classes that the kids in my classes didn't know. He stood up and once again tucked me under his arm protectively as he lead me out of the dining hall.
It was a longer walk than usual. I couldn't help but take the time to try and scan every face that I passed. Some wore a sneer. Others looked at me with actually pity in their eyes. The more vicious one, however, had actually had the nerve to make a move. It was a boy that looked to be a second year, just a bit older than I was. He'd been talking with his friends all huddled together before he cupped his hands to his mouth.
"Make way for Potter Pure-Blood!" he made it loud enough for those around him to hear and emphasized the last part just to make it hurt more. I almost stopped in my tracks at the new nickname, feeling my body twitch involuntarily.
"Detention, John," Dole had snapped at him, eyes slit dangerously. "For the next week, at that."
That seemed to silence him. He just said something that I couldn't hear and sat back with his friends once again. My sadness began to turn to bitter anger. I balled my fists at my side, wishing that I would be allowed to handle this my way for once in my life. I grew tired of not being allowed to do anything. It was always a risk. Not for me, but for Anne. I'd lashed out once and seeing her have to do late night shifts for the next month and be scored for awhile by the other purebloods was enough to make me feel so bad that'd I'd tried everything I could to hold in my anger from then on. Every day, it got harder.
I wanted to hurt him. Thinking of all the ways I could do it with my fists, I'd long zoned out with my eyes closed and allowed myself to be directed around the castle.
Finally, we stopped. And by then my breathing was rough. Dole put both hands onto my shoulder and knelt down to my level, trying to give the most reassuring look I'd ever seen someone try and offer me. His voice was gentle, I could tell. But I couldn't make out what he was saying. Now, my anger had suddenly turned to fear. Hurt someone.
Maybe I did kill Mr. Parr. It was proof, right then. How badly I'd wanted to hurt that boy in the hall. Was that normal for someone to think such violent thoughts? Maybe I'd blanked out and did it without me knowing. I hurt him. I hurt Mr. Parr. The guilt and fear gripped me and before I knew it, a tear meant for a weakling had slipped down my cheek. Then another. And another. I was crying. I was scared. It spread through my mind like the plague. And here I was, lying to all the aurors that I hadn't done it. Letting Anne tell them I hadn't done it.
I could almost imagine just how I'd done it.
"Aurora?" Dole had tapped my arm firmly to snap me out of it. He kept me at an arms length, probably so I wouldn't hurt him as well. "Hey, do you want to go to your dorm and sleep it off?"
No, I didn't want to go and be alone with my thoughts. If I did I thought I may have more thoughts about hurting someone. I didn't want to be left with those scary images. So, I shook my head and tried to desperately wipe away the tears from my face. He drew me in for a hesitant hug as an attempt to soothe me. Oddly, it worked. I liked hugs. It gave me some sort of security that I couldn't get from Anne at the moment.
I thought of how I missed home. How right at this moment I'd be outside playing in the back pond only to be scolded minutes later for it. I'd rather that than anything.
Would anything ever get better?
I didn't know how long it took for me to calm down, but when I did Dole led me to a table and made me sit. He stood there and waited for reality to catch up to me. Then, to take my mind off of everything he asked me what I thought of the library. I looked around, finding that the beauty of the white marble floor and the beautiful cream colored book shelves left me calm. There were spiral staircases that led to a second row of books. It looked unstable to me, so I made a mental note to stay away from it.
"I like it," I told him honestly, my voice wavering as I forced myself to speak louder. He nodded in agreement as I commented on how pretty it was.
"A little hard to find books, but it's worth the journey," Dole joked. "What genre do you like best?"
I didn't know what a genre was and shrunk in my seat at the question. He caught on quick and gave himself a light tap on the forehead as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that I'd have no clue what the word meant.
"A genre is, well. . ." He trailed off to find the best way to put it, snapping his fingers in thought. "A category books are put in. Fiction, non-fiction, historical fiction."
Dole listed off a number of 'genres' that I'd never heard of before, nor knew what it meant. He had to back step a few times to explain what a lot of them meant. It went on for so long that I didn't even want to admit that I really wasn't a big reader. I only liked history books when they weren't telling fibs of the figures. This, he told me, meant that I favored 'Historical Non-fiction'. I'd rather read about things that had actually happened to real people. He preferred drama fiction, he told me.
"I could get you some books if you want. Maybe you just never got into a good fantasy book. Maybe Matilda, or - or. . ." he'd urged me. I made a face and he trailed off in his rambling. He knew then to give up. "Maybe recommend some people to read about. Is there anyone that caught your eye?"
My mind immediately went to Mr. Hamilton, the portrait that guarded the headmaster's office. And, of course, his wife. Whom I'd only spoken to twice - which was that very day that I wished I could forget.
"Mr. Hamilton," I told him, keeping my hands firmly on my lap. The thoughts were leaking into my mind and I felt a horrid panic in my chest that made me want to cry or break something. Looking up at him upon his silence, I noticed that he struggled to remember something. So, I elaborated for him in hopes he'd know who I spoke of: "I even spoke to the other portrait - his wife, Eliza."
That did the trick for him. It looked as though a lightbulb had went above his head in an instant and he walked off, mumbling something to himself about which shelf he could look to first. I felt a breath of relief when he'd walked away. He was kind and patient, so It was beyond me why I'd feel like that. Yet, it no amount of self explaining could make me feel any different.
Is that wrong? I asked myself. What the hell is wrong with me?
And I couldn't put a finger on it, but something was truly wrong with me. Something that made me say or do things that I didn't mean to do. Things that can't be helped. It made me feel like I could never make friends. I'd be alone with nothing but my cat who was currently counting his days as a regular feline. Not some magic animal that I'd originally hoped he would be when I took him.
I bristled at the thought, but reminded myself that I loved Lookie more than anything right now. My thoughts went to him, guarding my bed and comfortably snuggling into my covers. I hope nobody bothered him just because they couldn't mind their own damned business. Logic countered that they had a right to be worried, though.
But they didn't. I was innocent and I knew I was innocent. Yet nobody believed me. I didn't know how many times I had to tell them that.
Just when I wished for Dolace Codd to rescue me from my scary thoughts, he was coming around the corner back towards our table. He was hunched over in pain with one hand cradling his stomach, looking sick and near about to throw up. His skin was suddenly pale. Like pure light cream porcelain. I couldn't move, despite my body screaming at me to do so. All I could do was stare at him as he slammed a book on the table in front of me and struggled to speak, opening and closing his mouth like he was trying to keep vomit from coming out.
"Dole. . ?" I trailed off in a questionable small voice. He held up a hand, swallowed, and took a deep breath.
"Only book," he breathed again. "I could find."
I didn't take my eyes off of him. He mumbled an apology, saying that he needed to go lay down in the dorms, and hobbled off with his head hung low, ashamed. My mind couldn't process what had just happened. Questions were left hung in the air. I forced myself to look down at the book on the table, its big bold letters in tempting me like a cryptic message waiting to be figured out.
The Enfield Poltergeist
It made me shiver a bit as a cool chill went down my spine. Confusion twisted my expression. I warily took the book and flipped through the cool pages. It wasn't as heavy as It looked, but the weight of it for some reason was overbearing in another way.
It felt like a taunt of some sort.
"..."
I was woken a few days later in the middle of the night by Lookie hissing and pawing at the bed sheets. My anger got the best of me, I admit, and I cursed at him. In my defense, it had been one of the very rare nights I'd been able to get some much needed sleep. Sleep was the only way get away from the pain that my own thoughts were causing me. My anger flared when I felt the immediate fear that'd been looming over me hit me like a train. I tried to swallow the pain, but always upon waking up I had trouble remembering anything. Then memories - and the pain accompanied by them - hit me at full force.
Images of me hurting people began to plague my mind.
It terrified me.
The thoughts of wanting to push someone off the side of the school. Urges I got to take someone's head and hold it into the toilet water for hours when someone stayed in the bathroom for too long. Or even when I sat in silence those nights when everyone else went to sleep and thought of pressing a pillow hard onto my dorm mates' faces until they suffocated.
My chest began to hurt. I squeezed my eyes shut and abruptly sat up, balling my hand into a fist and tapping myself in the head. I begged it for it to stop, to just go back to sleep and maybe I'll be okay again when I woke up. At the same time, I couldn't. Pain would be a train again. It would hit me in that cruel way again.
Lookie hissed again, making me look up from what I realised was a horrid trance where my eyes had been locked onto my sheets. I seethed, immediately blaming him for waking me up and putting me through this.
"What?" My voice wavered a bit. Then I whispered a harsh: "Stop it."
He didn't. I decided to see where exactly he was beckoning to and shifted myself to face the edge of the bed, silently waiting for something to happen. Snoring was I'd heard. I thought it was just the other girls in the dorm, except it was coming from somewhere far too close to me for that. When I'd looked under the bed, I almost screamed. The same man from before - the ghost - was curled into some sort of ball and sleeping peacefully as if he hadn't already been chased out of here once before.
I didn't know how long I'd been staring at him. Lookie didn't hesitate, he pounced onto the ghost with all he had and swiped at it viciously. The ghost woke, immediately putting his arms up to defend his face from harm.
"Good Isolt!" exclaimed the ghost quietly. "Please, calm your feline!"
I didn't react at first, too afraid to reach my hand under there to grab my cat. So, I clicked my tongue to get him to come. He gave one last hiss at the ghost and jumped back onto the bed, still on guard. I swallowed, pulling a bit of my curtain open to see if anyone would wake with me. Then, thought against it.
My chest couldn't take the anxiety.
"The hell are you?" I sneered at him. He had a very forlorn expression like a child that had his candy taken from him. "Why my damnbed, Ghost, and not Crumbie's?"
Then I remembered exactly what'd happened the last time he'd tried to sleep under her bed. Who on earth could forget that she used her shirt as her front line protection rather than her wand. The ghost blew a breath, but didn't make any indication that he was going to move.
"Name's Poppy," he told me. "And perhaps its escaped your common sense, miss, but I am no ghost."
I again thought back to that day. Right. Poltergeist. Still, the difference between that and a ghost was not obvious to me. And it still didn't tell me why he decided to choose my bed tonight. I asked him again, and he didn't answer at first. Just stared at me as if I should have already known the answer to this.
"You have a scent," he informed me. That wasn't comforting. I just stared at him dumbly, so he'd abandoned the thought and clamped his mouth shut.
I wondered a lot of things at this moment. For example, why he did not have a room of his own to sleep in, how he died, and why under the beds of all places in the world for a half-dead person to sleep. My mouth thinned, and I clutched the sheets warily when the thought that he's snatch me under came to mind.
"Why under beds?" I asked him. "Don't you have one of your own?"
He suddenly looked ashamed of himself, and I didn't think it'd been possible - but he looked even more sad than he had before. I wanted to apologise if I'd said anything to hurt him, but my head told me it'd be better to be quiet. Silence seemed to always be better. Nevertheless, he managed to stay calm with me.
"Lonely," he reluctantly gritted out like it was the most painful thing in the world. "Only way to stay close to people. . ."
"Oh."
Now I felt like a bad person for prying. I waited for him to say something at first, but he seemed to be doing the same with me. I didn't want him to think I was scared of him, even if I kinda was. He was just as lonely as I was, if not more. I broke the ice first.
"You can sleep under my bed whenever you want," I offered.
"You don't have a choice," he scoffed. "I smell you. You have evil all over you."
Asshole was the first thing that I'd said in my head. The perfect time to try that new word I'd heard My eyes narrowed and I seethed, trying to make it look like his words hadn't stung me. I failed miserably, I knew.
"I'm not evil," I tried to make my voice sound assured, but it came out weakly. "I -"
"Not you," his voice sounded harsh to me. Yet, different. It wasn't the way that other grown ups had spoken to me before. Like I couldn't understand anything. He spoke like he was facing an equal of his, despite him being a bit mean. "You have another following you, yes?"
"Another - ?"
"Poltergeist."
My eyes fluttered like the Information had been a splash of cold water on my face. As if I hadn't had anything else to worry about. I whispered another 'Oh' and took a deep breath. Terror flooded my bloodstream at the very thought. This couldn't be real. I refused. I felt closed in and a new sense of claustrophobia gripped me.
"Does that mean. . ." I began slowly, trying to make sense of it all. "That. . . That. . ."
Then, he cut me off. His words indicating that he again thought that this would be the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe they should have been. Yet, it hit me like bricks all the same.
"That someone in this castle killed Mr. Parr."
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