••"I'm drowsy from their stories, let's write our own"••
The town bell's tintinnabulation reverberated through the heavily pelting town.
The child wailed over the sound of the rain, quenching the yearning of a desiccated harren.
Verena Snape, an as...
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"The trifle is so good today," Daphne moaned as she consumed more of the delicious dessert they were having for dinner.
There were banners and carved pumpkins adorning the hall.
Verena eyed the Gryffindor trio. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasely.
But the muggle girl wasn't there.
They were whispering to each other non-stop.
She had spotted Hermoine at the library going through the topic Cerberus.
She flipped through the thick pages of the book twirling her wand between her fingers.
A book dropped beside her and she watched as the frizzy-haired girl turned over the pages vigorously.
"Oh, hello, I don't see you there," she went back to skimming then halted, "Do you seem to know anything about Cerberus?"
"Why should I tell you?" She asked back monotonously preparing herself to get up and walk away.
"I was just curious,"
Yeah right.
"I don't feel the need to share them with you,"
She got up and left.
She sipped her pumpkin juice tapping her wand against the table.
Without warning the large oak wood doors slammed open and Professor Quirrell came running in.
"Troll in the dungeon! Troll in the dungeon!" He cried alerting everyone.
"Troll in the dungeon..." His face was ashen and he dropped to the floor like a puppet when its string got loose.
Students began to worry and fuss.
"Silence!" Dumbledore yelled, "All students will follow their house prefects to their dorms, and all teachers follow me,"
The students began rushing around, Verena tried to spot her father. She easily spotted him rushing in her direction.
Holding her hand he leads her to his office.
The office was bleak and dimly lit.
The shadowy walls were streaked with racks of massive glass containers filled with moist, mutinying things, such as bits of animals and plants, drifting in potions of varying colours.
"Stay here till I return,"
He patted her head.
"What about the others?"
"They'll be fine, do not come out,"
He strolled out leaving her alone in the cold gloomy room filled with opportunities.
She rushed to his desk and began rummaging through the drawers.
One particular piece of paper caught her attention.
They were folded in the same pile and held with a string.
She untied it and she proceeded to unfold the papers languidly.
One was a drawing of her father drawn by her. It was a few years ago when she was introduced to her artistic skills.
She couldn't tell whether he was sitting or standing.
Then was an immaculate painting of him. A lot better than than the one she had drawn.
But her father was younger. He was slumped against a tree with a book in his hand.
They apprehended his similarity flawlessly in the masterpiece.
The colours stirred in precise symmetry and they tinted all the exact spots and accentuated all the precise places.
At the corner of the page was a signature.
Clovis.
Her mother's name.
The last one was a picture. An old moving picture of a red-haired girl.
She was beaming and swivelling.
Lilly Petunia.
The name was inscribed at the back of the paper.
Who was this?
The sound of shoes scuffing against the concrete floor cautioned her as she hastily placed them back and slumped on the chair.
Snape entered, he was limping.
Was he doing that before?
"Are you alright?" She asked, worry lacing her tone.
"I'm fine, are you alright?"
She nodded, "what happened to the troll?"
"Potter and his sheer dumb fortune,"
"He dealt with the troll?"
"Him and his friends,"
"What-"
"Ask questions later, it's nearly past curfew you should prepare to go to bed,"
