Snape's Criminal Daughter

Chapter 13

The train was arriving in less than twenty minutes, and he had still seen no sign of her. Was she alright? Would she ever come back? Did she leave? Questions ran through his mind relentlessly, torturing him. The headmaster kept insisting that she was fine, but he wasn't that naive. He walked through the corridors, on his way to the great hall. The ceiling was displaying a beautiful array fo white, fluffy clouds. The blue-gray sky behind it implied that it was freezing outside, and he was sure it was. Only Minerva was seated at the staff table, staring into the distance in deep thought. 

Deciding to leave her to it, he left, hoping to find Dumbledore. He walked through the corridors and it wasn't until he had gone for minutes that he had not counted, that he heard footsteps behind him. They stopped when he stopped and started when he started. Hoping his follower was who he thought it was, and not some dream that he had come up with, he muttered a spell under his breath. And sure enough, someone was following him, for when he ran the opposite direction, he saw a pair of footsteps disappear behind a corner. 

He chased after them, running between suits of armor, and down corridors, at a speed, he didn't think he could reach. Finally stopping, gasping for breath, he hears the running footsteps of his follower fading off into the distance.

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She had woken to find sunlight, despite the drapes, blinding her. She had not slipped under the sheets, it was to much work. The wound had thankfully, had remained closed. Standing up, biting back a hiss of pain, she made her way to the trunk at the foot of the bed. pulling out a fresh set of clothes, she closed it. Beginning to remove her shirt, a door across the room caught her eye. It hadn't been there yesterday, and it wasn't the one that lead out into the corridor. Cautiously, she made her way over to it and grasped the handle. It was cool to the touch, causing her to shiver involuntarily.

Pulling open the heavy door, she was met with what appeared to be a bathroom. A tub sat in the far corner and a counter on the wall opposite of her. The silver tiled floor reflected her appearance, making her seem slightly deformed in their surface. A stained glass window in the shape of a snake caught her eye. It hung above the tub, and the detail was fantastic. Dropping her clothes on the counter, she began to strip off her shirt. It stuck to her skin, leaving behind dried blood, streaked across her side. 

Not being able to pull the shirt off and unstick it from her skin, she pulls a knife out of her back pocket and begins to cut it off. Dropping strips of blood stained clothes around her, she catches her appearance in the mirror above the sink. Not having a mirror to look into for years, she's taken aback but regains her balance. Her hair, that she had always kept short, was starting to grow out again. She had found that as it had grown longer, curls started to appear. Now, her hair almost reached past her shoulders and curls was making their way into her hair. 

Her eyes, as usual, were green, piercing green. She was fond of them, she had never seen a pair like them. Her cheek bones stood out along her face, and her hooked nose protruded out from her head. Her black hair made her pale skin almost glow, and her eyes stood out even more. 

Pulling what was left of her shirt over her head, she threw it in a garbage can she had seen beside the counter. Searching through the black cupboards, she found a stack of silver washcloths. Placing them on the counter, she soaks in in the water that flows from the black colored tap. The water is warm as she dabs it on her skin, cleaning off the dry blood that coats her torso. By the time it's completely clean, two of the six washcloths are soaked in blood. 

Throwing the two in the garbage can, she turns her attention to the now clean wound. Now that all the blood has been siphoned off, she can now clearly see the wound. The three-inch wound is an angry red, but no blood spills from it. Taking a strip of cloth she found in the cabinet, she wraps it around her middle, covering the wound completely. Taking the new shirt from the pile, she slips it over her head, careful to favor the wound. 

The pants come off easily, and after she has cleaned the blood from her legs, and throwing the pants in the garbage along with the shirt, she pulls on a new pair. Stealing a glance at herself in the mirror, she walks out, stuffing a knife in her shirt as she goes. Walking over to the window, she catches a glance of a train. It's scarlet for streaking across the fields. Was it the start of term already? It must have been, what else would the train be here for. 

Stepping over to the door, she pulled it open a crack. Nothing. Inching out into the corridor, she closed the door behind her. It seemed to fade away behind her. Staring at it until it had completely faded from view, she began to walk. Where was she to go? She had no idea where students or the professors went. Freezing in place, she heard footsteps, those of someone old than her. Running quietly to a shadowed corner, she waited for the footsteps to pass. 

The man who had introduced himself as Snape came sulking around the corner, his cloak billowing behind him, and his greasy black hair seemed to stick to his frame. Then a thought struck her, perhaps he was on his way to meet the students, perhaps he could lead her to a large group, where she could camouflage in. Sticking to the shadows, she followed him. But it soon appeared that he was not heading in the direction of students and teachers, but he seemed to be traveling deeper and deeper into the school. 

Quick as a whip, he stopped, undoubtedly hearing her footsteps, he took a step forward. Then without a warning, he sprints after her. Stumbling at first, but regaining her balance quickly, she runs. Pushing herself faster and faster, she veers between suits of armor and around corners, trying in vain to throw him off. Eventually, she hears the fading footsteps of her follower and begins to slow down.  Panting for breath, she looks behind her. Nothing. He must have stopped running. Checking her side, she finds that the wound has remained closed. Walking slowly down a corridor, what sounds like grinding stone reaches her ears. 

Opening a door, she nearly falls. She feels her mouth open in shock. In front of her lies staircases, not just any staircases, moving ones. Now realizing what the grinding noise was her eyes begin to scan the room. It almost looks as though they are moving on their own, almost as though there moving by magic. Moving paintings line the walls, some holding people, others holding animals or even plants. Often she finds that the people in the frames seem to just, walk out of their paintings, often appearing in another. 

The staircases moved from door to door, sometimes stopping, other times they just kept moving. Not wanting to return the way she had came, she waited for a staircase to come her way. Not appearing as though it was going to stop, she lept on the top stair, stumbling at first, then regaining her balance and jumping off at the next door she came too.