"Trust me, you shouldn't want anyone like me on your back."
"Maybe I don't want anyone like you on my back," His eyes darkened as he stepped closer, confining me tighter into barely any space as my back pressed against the wall.
"Maybe I want you. U...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THE HOGWARTS LIBRARY WAS QUIET in its vastness. The dark shelves gathering dust and sporting spines that once used to be gilded golden, silver and copper. Shades of leather bound books were everywhere in my periphery, where Ilvermorny's library sported color, Hogwarts did not seem to take such liberties.
We had arrived a few hours ago, and while everyone else had made their way to their designated dorms to retire in a brief span of exhaustion, I had found my feet taking me to the library. Albus Dumbledore had watched me, an unfathomable sparkle in his eye as I had inquired of the directions to the library when he had just explained the directions to our assigned dorms for the duration of our stay.
I didn't care for his wordless looks. The seemingly suggestive looks that entailed his mind was at work deciphering everything, even if his lips would not part way to speak of it.
The Hogwarts castle was wide, and less daunting in a way than Ilvermorny had been. Hogwarts was what it was, heights and turrets made of deep dark brick making it stand out amidst the lush green plains behind it and the glimmering lake at its feet.
Ilvermorny had been shrouded in a heavy mist, its inexplicable daunt was cloaked in the fact that it had chosen to hide itself. Hogwarts had not.
I traced my fingertips softly on the spines as I passed shelves by, my eyes trained to look for the words deathly hallows on whichever shelf I was to stumble upon them on. I intended to get the assignment over with, but more than that, I intended to find out the reasons behind the urgency and demand for it that Fontaine so clearly harbored. The Resurrection stone and the Invisibility cloak. What use were they to a dark wizard who had already been resurrected and had death eaters to do his dirty work of listening at doors, amongst other work, for him?
There was no librarian at my disposal, no one for me to reach out to in case I might need the assistance. Dumbledore had known I was headed here, yet he had given me the directions and no information that the designated librarian might not be there. He had instead extended the courtesy of having a ragged and hunched old man—who was more frail and bothered than he was hunched—escort me to the library.
The man in question, now stood at the entrance waiting on me, a veiny hand holding a lit lantern up high, though it wasn't even 2pm yet and the morning light was pouring in from every available window, making the dust flakes dance in their given spotlight.
I turned my eyes away from the man with his stringy long hair, permanent scowl and small dark eyes fixed on me. I could tell he was a squib—his likeness to muggle energy was like a scent in the air around him, too obvious for me to miss.
Suddenly my eyes found what they were looking for, but I had passed it by. Backtracking, I grabbed the spine of the book that had caught my attention.
