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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 24, 2006 14:26:56 GMT -5
Grimacing in utter disgust Oione dropped one more tubeworm into the bucket, touching it as little as possible while doing so. It was unfair, she had decided, unfair that Seth could gain forgiveness so easily only by making her laugh. Oione Mireault, clearly irritated with herself, frowned down disapprovingly at the tubeworm she was about to pick. This had always been her weakest point, she just couldn't stay mad at Seth, one minute she might claim to hate him and never ever speak to him, the next she'd be adoring the boy once again. The girl decided it must have been due to the presence of their perfectly loathable professor that she found forgetting about the incident at the schack so easy, you couldn't hate two people at the same time in the same place and out of the two Snape was much easier to hate due to the lack of Unicorn Song from his side.
The frown deepened and the tubeworm squaked as she grabbed it tightly and threw straight at Seth as a silmulatenous response with Snape's one.
It was one of the reasons why you could never share secrets with Seth Silver. He blurted them out without even being asked to. However, the fact that Bellatrix did not accept Severus Snape as a Death Eater was commonly known and not a secret by any means. While sleeping over at the Ravenblack Estate Oione had the doubtful pleasure to witness one of so-called conversations between him and her aunt as the Lestrange twins had better things in mind than sleeping and Oione (being the youngest and the smallest) was sent off to evasdropp. To her is resembled a meeting of two alley cats from different neighbourhood that constantly hissed at each-other. Bellatrix had never really even hid just how little she thought of Snape and suprisingly it didn't have as much to do with the man's blood status (though she never failed to point out just how inferior he was) but the fact that she basically found him to be a treacherous, two-faced bastard, not even worthy to serve the Dark Lord. Snape, of course, had never owed the woman anything as he enjoyed pushing her buttons just as much as she did his. Albeit, their mutual dislike and rivalry had never been a subject for discussion, neither in the Pureblood society nor anywhere else and the world needed Seth Silver to be tactless enough to bring this up. "Moron" Oione hissed, though even to her it appeared half-hearted.
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 24, 2006 17:25:00 GMT -5
'Feckin' bastardt's what ye are....' Seth mumbled furiously, wiping his face with a sopping black sleeve. The tubeworm had landed in the bucket, unbeknownst to the boy, and was squished against the side, impaled by the wire bristles of the scrub brush. Who the feck ever gave Snape the right to be such an arse? It was common knowledge that Lestrange was not fond of him. Seth was no stranger to being on that particular side of the social spectrum. He used to kitchen door more often than not in his own house, walking to the back of the estate to enter, unless he had come with his mother or Augustus, in which case the front door was protocol.
Seth knew that, at one time, his mother and Augustus had done a fairly good job of passing the boy off for Augustus's legitimate heir. It became apparent, however, when the boy turned four that he was of another's blood. His curly black hair and dark brown eyes were too different from the fair-haired, fair-skinned Amerelia and her blue-eyed Irish husband. Rumours surfaced of the boy possibly being adopted, but they were tossed out immediately. Seth was a blood bastard, really not much better than Half-Blood when it came doesn to it, and he relished in that fact. Where Snape tried to hide his (lack of) purity despicably, Seth shrugged and smiled and ruffled his hair - not at all concerned by gossip. That was his mother's forte.
'Moron.'
A large grin plastered over his face, Seth turned to splash Oione with water. Moron, indeed. Hadn't he just stopped her hating his guts? And she called him a moron!
'Ye forgot shtoopidt and oogly, and bastardt, to name a few. Oh, and fookin' son-of-an-hoor. That's me favourite, than one. Better than oogly.'
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 24, 2006 17:57:35 GMT -5
The part of why Oione took to Seth so much was the fact that he had never pretended to be someone else (OK, maybe apart from pretending that he was more of an idiot than he really was). In the early years of their childhood it became clear that passing on the statement that Seth was the legitimate child of Rookwood's would not do the trick anymore, the resembled neither Augustus nor Amerelia. With his black curles, deep brown eyes and rather dark complexion he looked southern and Oione remembered that she thought he was Italian or Greek when she first met him (and immediately started asking questions which turned Amerelia's dinner party into a highly uncomfortable situation). Over the years spent in rainy Limerick Seth had paled out somewhat but even now he was at least a shade darker than the majority of Hogwarts students, including Oione herself. When it came to Snape, it was completely different. Not only was he the world's worst pedagouge but also was a false, two-faced bastard with not much dignity left. Or at least that was what Oione had been told, though from what she witnessed now and again this was no petty gossip.
"Hey!" Oione exclaimed in a voice that was supposed to be indigant, water dripping down her face, hair and front of already dirty robes. She failed miserably at being outraged as she burst out laughing, something those walls hadn't heard before. She grabbed yet another tubeworm and threw it at Seth with a better aim this time. "Take that you prat!" she laughed, oblivious to Snape.
'Ye forgot shtoopidt and oogly, and bastardt, to name a few. Oh, and fookin' son-of-an-hoor. That's me favourite, than one. Better than oogly.' "I'd just stay with shtoopidt and son-of-a-hoor" Oione grinned wickedly at him. "You're not oogly. That's why you're so stupid. Can't have both looks and brains at the same time. With the small exception of myself, that is" the corner of her mouth lifted in a mock smug smirk
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 24, 2006 18:36:35 GMT -5
Snape raised an eyebrow, slamming his fist into the desk with a resounding bang.
'That's another detention you may both add to your punishment,' he snarled, rising from his desk and standing in front of the two in three quick strides. He looked livid now, his sallow face flushed, spit flying from his mouth with each word.
'But, sor - ' Seth began, almost on impulse.
Snape seemed to grow very large very quickly. He towered over the boy from where he was crouching by the cauldrons, making a point to crush a few slender fingers beneath his heavy boots.
'You will be silent, Silver. Mireault - return to your work. I had better not find a single worm out of place.' Giving the girl a stern glare, Snape rounded on Seth. 'You will be silent, Silver. You will not sing. You will not throw things. You will be silent.'
So saying, he returned to his desk, leaving behind a very angry Slytherin boy. Seth felt as though he was being targeted. Snape never shouted at Nott or Avery or the Lestrange twins. What was so different about Seth and Oione? Perhaps Snape felt threatened by the two. They were, after all, in much better standing with Bellatrix than he was.
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 24, 2006 18:56:39 GMT -5
Oione had another little heart-attack as she was violently reminded of Severus Snape's (unwanted) presence. She also didn't see the point in saying that they could add another detention to their list when he hadn't told them how much detentions they were going to serve in the first place, however she the girl was certain how it was going to end for Snape; with a major nervous breakdown, the greasy git was almost worth their pity when you looked at it from Mireault's perspective. In her mind's eye she could already see him being taken to St.Mungo's. Oh, what a view.
Oione covered her mouth with her hand not to laugh some more as their Head of House appeared before them looking more furious than ever. Amazingly enough, they were the people that could make Snape officially lose it. He never shouted at his students, venomous sarcasm- always, seething-maybe, harmful remarks-always, ridiculing his pupils to nothing-usually. Albeit Oione and Seth shattered his temper to a million of tiny pieces within second and without even trying to. Truly gifted those two teenagers were. More over it amused Oione beyond all words.
After an impressive fit Snape left them once again and Oione gave Seth a 'he's the right twat, eh?' kind of look and began her slime-stricken task once again, throwing the tubeworms to the bucket not caring how sleek, wet and disgusting they were.
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 24, 2006 19:07:20 GMT -5
Seth stretched out his sore fingers, making faces behind Snape's back and muttering to himself. He examined the bloodied knuckles, cracking them, then set about his work dilligently. Snape was old, and his patience had been wearing thinner yet since before the boy could remember. The professor was always angry, it seemed, especially upon visits to Augustus's estate. Snape was always uncomfortable around Amerelia Rookwood, for he knew quite well what she thought of him, and it made Bellatrix Letrange's deap-seated loathing look like motherly love.
'Finished wi' yeer cauldrons, sor. Ye want I should stack 'em up or soomink? Make 'em real pretty-like?'
Snape glared, and Seth stared innocently back.
After a pregnant pause, the man sneered, 'I want the tables scrubbed, Silver, until they reflect every beam of light passing through your empty skull.'
Seth beamed. 'Course, sor. Pleased to do it.'
It was by far the simplest task he had been assigned this night, and the least painful.
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 24, 2006 19:21:22 GMT -5
Oione was finally finished with the tubeworms, brushing two last ones unceremoniously into the bucket. "They're all yours" she said showing him the worm-free tables with sweepinng motion and a brilliant smile of a hostess that had just been advertising the newest edition of Firebolt. Then, with a somewhat irritated sigh she took the bucket's handle and placed it all before Snape, fighitng down the raising urge to pour its content down on the pernamently disgruntled potion master.
"Done" she said with a half-smirk and before he could remind her about the task that was awaiting her, the girl was off not needing to be reminded about toads. She took the jars from the neglected shelf that looked as it breathed out in relief when Oione took away the unbearable weight of its desks. There was only one small problem. "Psst. Seth?" she whispered in hushed, conspirational tone rather for fun of speaking so than real fear for Snape. "How does one pickle a toad?"
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 24, 2006 23:40:45 GMT -5
Seth shrugged, sneezing over his first table and swiping it away with his hand.
'Stick your finger down it's throat and see if it explodes,' he suggested.
Asking Seth was about the worst thing one could do, considering he hardly knew what pickled meant, let alone how to do so to a toad. The majority of Seth's detentions were spent cleaning Snape's classroom. Book work was pointless, and lines were laughable. If Seth was going to get nothing from his detentions, Snape made sure to at least have the room cleaned before he released the remorseless boy back into the world.
'Gut them, Mireault,' Snape ordered. 'Insides in the glass bottles on top of that cabinet. The bodies may be disposed of in the barrel by the door. There is no need to talk.'
The last line was intended for Seth, along with a glare that actually made the boy flinch away. Seth rarely showed it when he was afraid of a person. The truth was, there were very few living people that he feared. Voldemort was one, and Snape, and Augustus. He never feared his mother. Augustus, on the other hand, had the innate ability to inspire terror into the heart of his young charge by a mere flick of his wrist. Snape had that ability as well, which only made the boy like him less and fear him much more.
'To work, Silver.'
Of course, Snape would not on his life pause to think that perhaps Seth's hands were beginning to cramp, or his knuckles to throb, or any other such aches and pains as were common during chores.
'O' course, sor.'
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 26, 2006 12:03:24 GMT -5
Oione did not ask Seth expecting an answer that would be anywhere near reasonable, however, since the only things she associated 'pickle' with were cucumbers and she couldn't really see any connection toads might have with cucumbers or any other vegetables in that matter. With a frown of deep thought Oione stared down at the dead toad, spread-eageled on the wooden desktop as though intensive staring might actually bring the toad back to life, saying 'just gut me, you imbecile'. Oddly enough it wasn't the poor toad that said so.
'Gut them, Mireault,' Snape ordered.'Insides in the glass bottles on top of that cabinet. The bodies may be disposed of in the barrel by the door. There is no need to talk.'
If Oione had been a typical girl she'd probably bee utterly disgusted with it and she'd probably protest (no matter how pointless protesting was during Snape's detentions), but since killing things (preferably those that moved) had been one of her favourite past times as a child this was not a big deal for her, though gutting definitely couldn't count as pleasant. With not as much as a huff and a glare that was sure to inform Snape of whose body she would have gladly disposed in the barrel by the door. "Fine" she snarled, going back for the bottles and a small knife used for chopping ingredients.
Strangely, Oione had never been terrified of Snape, even though it must have been more of her inborn insolence and conceit than actual courage. The only weapon that the potion master had in this peculiar war against Oione was the possibility of writing to her parents (about which the girl easily forgot) and even though the Mireaults showed Snape just how much they disrespected him on every given occassion, her father would indeed believe in whatever complaints the Professor might have and the only thing he needed to do was to make them convincing. Though, as you took a closer look on reality, even the best made-believe story could not rival what Oione Mireault and Seth Silver had in store.
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 26, 2006 12:50:19 GMT -5
Seth worked dilligently, which was something new for him, considering most of everything he did was half-arsed. The tables were laughably easier a task to clean than the cauldrons or floors, and Seth found himself flying amongst them, mindlessly swiping at grime and caked-on potion. Cleaning became second nature, and he began to think of other things.
What was it like, a meeting? Surely there was nothing ... painful ... involved? Then again, knowing Augustus, Seth could guess that pain would be a very large part of becoming a Knight. Augustus had explained everything - how the Knights of Walpurgis were established by an English Lord hundreds of years ago to protect the magical community, which was widely persecuted by Muggles. The Knights had trickled into Scotland, and then Ireland, and by 1642, there were over two hundred of them across Great Britain. Druids often became Knights, as their powers were useful, and that was where Augustus's ancestor, Aed Ruarc had entered the mix. Following was a long-standing tradition of the Ruarc family (who later became the Rookwood family, after a move to England in 1762). They were all Knights, and Seth, though he was not a proper Rookwood, was named Augustus's heir, had been raised by the man, and was expected to hold up that tradition most honourably.
Even the mater could not object to such a long-standing family code, though she tried to. She gave up when Augustus pointed out that he had been a Death Eater since he was seventeen, and was still living. And hadn't her family joined the Knights in 1865? Hadn't her great-great-great-great-great-grandfather Alabaster Loom been a Knight? Hadn't he died nobly in the fight?
'Sor, I'd hate to be interruptin' ye, only I'm finished wi' the tebbles, now, and was wonderin' would ye let me get meself a drank o' walter? I could drank from the tap, only I'm tirsty, and I'd doubt ye'd want to fill out all those papers if I pass out.'
Snape glared, thought a moment, and then consented with a brief jerk of his head. He motioned that Oione might do the same.
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 26, 2006 15:45:38 GMT -5
Imagining it was Snape's face she was cutting the knife fell down and Oione, ignoring the disturbing sound of entrails bursting on the outside began her disemboweling task while Seth swirled among the tables with grace of a drunk ballet dancer.
Cutting (or rather butchering in her case) overgrown frogs was a good solution for ailing problems, it was simple and therefore did not require much thinking from the girl's side, more over using more strenght that there was needed really helped when you wanted to take things out, there was just something comforting in the way a blade cut through.
After a few toads, Oione stopped focusing on her task as her mind drifted away to more burning matters such as their Christmas trip, Tom Wilkes, his younger brother, Knights and Aunt Bellatrix, who would gladly vouch for Oione to see her becoming one. The knife hit the wood once again as she bagan working on her last toad, looking very much line in trance, not even listening to what Seth was asking Snape.
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 26, 2006 16:06:28 GMT -5
After a prolonged drought of water, which left the front of his robes sopping, Seth returned to the task at hand. Once again, he found his mind wandering, thoughts swirling which each movement of his brush.
And when he became a Knight, there were even more rituals to follow. The Rite of Passage was one, and it sounded by far the most painful. An instructor would be chosen among the Knights, probably Wilkes or Augustus. Seth would be taken from the group, as would the other Knight hopefuls, and brought to a clearing in the wood. There were oaths, and then a test of strength, as Augustus had called it. He would not tell his heir what this test of strength was, but Seth dreaded it. Augustus had forewarned him to wear clothing that would allow him to move quickly and freely, so he could "dodge blows easily". This in itself was hardly comforting. That coupled with the fact that his mother had been stocking up on Pain-Relieving Potions of late was enough to make Seth want to resign from his post as heir and future Knight.
And then there was the problem of the tattoos. The runes on his forearm would be the most difficult by far. They would spell out the motto of the Knights - 'For blood, for kin". And then there was the Insign. The insignia of the Knights of Walpurgis, while not as widely recognised as that of the Death Eaters, was certainly as feared within the Ministry of Magic. Death Eaters who bore the mark of a Knight were far more formidable than those who had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord fresh out of school. Augustus was a Knight, as was Wilkes, and Avery, and the Lestrange brothers. Lucius Malfoy himself was a Knight, and Snape. It was a rather prestigious list (with the excpetion of Snape), and Seth, though he was proud to be joining, was petrified of being discovered. Surely he visited the Hospital Wing enough, and Madam Pomfrey had no concept of privacy. Salazer only knew how many times she had undressed him before the watchful eyes of Snape, or his parents, or even duelling partner. Those who bore the mark of the Knights of Walpurgis were criminals, no better than Death Eaters, and were treated as such.
He was skating on thin enough ice as it was.
'Oione,' hissed Seth, passing her by on his way to the next table. 'Je ne suis rien!'
It had been Seth's favourite phrase as a boy. "Je ne suis rien", I am nothing. Long before, Seth had taken to spouting the phrase everywhere - to his mother, Oione, at dinner parties. He thought it was funny, for some deranged reason, to repeat a phrase Augustus had driven into him so many times, in a language the man loathed above all others.
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 26, 2006 19:28:17 GMT -5
Oione stuck the knife upright in the table, not really caring how much damage exactly she had caused they already beyond-repair table that must have been impressive-looking once, but now covered in carvings and writings of bored students (including Oione's) presented itself as anything but impressive.
"Finished" she said gloomly and without asking if she was allowed to went to wash her hands from all the tubeworm slime and rests of toad entrails. Came back, somewhat less angry, wiping her mouth in her sleeve hastily, which gave the appearance of someone who had just discovered a well in the middle of Sahara since after encountering the tap she realized she was indeed thirsty.
What she hated most in Snape's detention was the fact that they actually forced you to think. Silence did that to you. While with Seth, either in class or during spare time she did not need to think, they usually yelled at each-other or fought for fun (or just to watch first-years run for cover) and for something that felt like the first time she found it perfectly convenient. Throughough her short life Oione Mireault hadn't had much problems, but that was about to end and the girl could feel it in the air. People usually were afraid of things unknown to them, however in her case it was the complete opposite. She had been told about the Knights of Walpurgis ages ago, both by the Lestranges and her own parents and she had shown a similiar enthusiasm to the one Seth was showing now.
They were like a living fairy tale to her then, but not any more. It was so much more than having a tatoo on your forearm and killing Muggles for fun, it wasn't a party. It forebode an end of the life Oione knew and loved, reckless, carefree and light, wwithout much woes. She was expect to maintain the 'pureblood way' and did not particularly like the sound of it. This, what was yet to come, didn't let her sleep at night.
"Évidemment, vous n'êtes rien" the girl whispered back with a smirk.
Set, on the other hand, perceived it all differently and that was what worried Oione even more than her own future. The girl didn't buy the cheap story about giving Augustus his coat back in Oslo and she suspected it had nothing to do with the coat and everything to do with the Knights. The only thing that kept her away from being certain was the fact that he wanted to take her along. Even Seth wasn't foolish enough, Oione concluded. It was pretty obvious that she would know the minute he came back. "Why do you want me to go with you to Krakow?" she asked in a silky voice, just in case, just to make sure that it wasn't what she feared so much.
And then, there was Augustus himself to think of. Why, after so many years of telling Seth that he was indeed 'nothing', he so willingly accepted him as his heir. Tom Wilkes, who always acted as the boy's favourite uncle and his enigmatic brother. Previously she had thought that the magnificient broom Seth had received during their third year had been a rare show of Rookwood's generosity sparkled by the news about his unwanted step-son's Quidditch achievements. Questions were simmering underneath Oione's skin. Questions that nobody looked forward to answer.
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 26, 2006 21:25:02 GMT -5
Seth froze, scratching his nose cautiously and glancing at Snape.
'Dunno. Seems more fun wi' two people, don't it? Be a bit borin' traipsin' 'round everywhere by me feckin' self.'
Snape raised his eyes, locking gazes for a moment with Seth. Snape, who himself was a Knight, and a friend of Augustus. Snape who knew the answer to all of Oione's questions about the holiday. Snape, who could tell Augustus Rookwood at any given moment that his step-son was bringing Oione Mireault along for the ride. It was all he could do to stop himself shuddering. What would happen when Oione found out that his little holiday was all a ruse? She knew, didn't she, that Seth would have to become a Knight soon. She had to accept it.
'The tables, Silver - Mireault, taked the jars and organize them in the cabinet. Drop nothing.'
Seth bent his head over a particularly stubborn stain, pleased for the interruption. He was horrible at lying to Oione. She most, if not all, of his childhood secrets, and then some. She knew his character, what he liked, what he didn't like, who liked and didn't like him. And she was clever. there was no doubt in his mind she'd have worked out the true meaning behind the trip very soon, and Seth only hoped it was after Christmas. He wanted a nice bit of holiday before things were botched between them again.
Sombre, slack-jawed, and finished with the tables, Seth approached Snape's desk. The man pretended to ignore him for a moment, ticking off a spelling mistake and tutting under his breath.
'Ehm - sor?'
Snape glanced up, setting aside his essays. He appraised the boy, taking in his every detail. Fidgety, twisting bloodied fingers behind his back, long arms jerking with every moment of his hands, jaw working furiously in an attempt to bite back words he knew he couldn't speak.
'Mr Silver.'
Seth nearly jumped. Nearly.
'Sor, I'm finished,' he faltered.
Snape smirked. So, the infallible Knight was capable of fear still. 'I had noticed, Mr Silver.'
Seth twitched, scratching his chin jerkily.
'I'll stack the chairs, then, sor?'
Taking Snape's silence as a "yes", he moved to the first table and cracked his knuckles. It was in this moment that Seth Silver began to seriously regret wanting to enjoy a stupid holiday.
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 27, 2006 16:10:39 GMT -5
Seth had never been particularly good at lying to her. Knowing each-other for years there wasn't much both of them could hide from one-another, as a good observer it didn't take long for Oione to work out who accepted Seth and who did not in the pureblood society, his little habits, favourite drinking songs and that whole insane personality of his. Not that Seth really owed her much. Oione Mireault might be a highly unpredictable person taking mood-swings and temperament into a completely new dimension, but Seth was the one who knew her more than anybody else. As an excellent liar she could even lie in front of Snape without moving even a single facial muscle but whenever the girl was forced to lie to Seth (usually to save somebody else's nose) she found herself fidgeting and avoiding his eyes like a cowardly second-year Hufflepuff.
"Oh, yeah. Sure it's more fun traipsin' round by our' fecking' selves" Oione mocked with a sly grin. It didn't go unnoticed, the quick exchange of glances between Snape and Seth. However, the girl chose to ignore it, pretending to be naive enough to buy Seth's story would have to serve her for now. "So what would you like for your birthday and for Christmas, then?" she changed the topic in a sugary voice and giving Seth the most adorable smile as if Christmas presents were the crucial matter from the very beginning. Hopefully, this would calm Seth down a bit as it was much easier to make him spill the beans when he wasn't suspecting her of suspecting him. With an air of over-cheerful fairy Oione glided towards the cabinet to re-arrange Snape's jars. It was the easiest task so far and even tough the jars were heavy they were all numbered and it didn't take much effort from Oione to put them in the right order. When she carefully placed the jar with dried gindylow up on the shelf, cauntious not to break anything (since Snape woud most likely go bonkers upon discovering that his oh-so-precious supplies were distoryed) realization hit her. Perhaps she could ask Snape about Richard Wilkes since writing to her parents did not bring much effects as the rpely she received indicated that the man died long ago, which Oione knew could not be true. Filthy liars. Snape was shunned by many and rarely appreciated by strictly pureblooded Death Eaters therefore this was nothing to him, besides she had nothing to lose.
"Sir?" she asked with all the politeness in the universe. "Could I ask you a question, sir?"
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