harry’s is the sharpest eye he’s had the privilege of. if sharper, it would’ve pointed out the vomit-looking string of bubotuber pus shimmying slowly off the candelabra behind albus’ ear. or through it, rather. one tends to become tellingly precious about seemliness around ghosts.

He’d stopped her from killing Atalia during the Hogsmeade attack and after they’d gotten Jennifer to safety, the Slytherin had avoided him. He’d seen her at her absolute worst, she figured he wouldn’t want to see her ever again. As much as it pained her to stay away from him (he’d been such a good friend all those years), she couldn’t put him through that. It didn’t matter that he’d said he didn’t care, she stayed away regardless. And yet now there he was, standing right in front of her. She cursed herself for not paying more attention. What was the point of improved senses if she couldn’t keep herself out of situations such as this?