![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[The thing about living alone in a quiet room on a quiet floor is that you live alone and it's quiet. There definitely shouldn't be faint sounds of shuffling coming from your bedroom when you walk in the door.
Victor listens for it again--yes, there it is again.
Nothing that can sneak into a locked apartment can be good, in Victor's experience, and he carefully sets down his keys on a side table (one would think that having a lock and key would help prevent this sort of thing, but apparently not).]
Hello?
[I'm armed, he thinks to add, and then decides against it. Better not to announce it should he need his pistol.
There's no answer. The sound continues.
When Victor hazards a cautious look to see what it is, he discovers the source to be not be shuffling movement as he thought, but crinkling. The crinkling of paper being brushed back and forth across his bed. The culprit, a cat, sits there like it belongs there. Which it certainly doesn't for more than one reason, the primary one being it's a dreamt-up hallucination from an event.]
You shouldn't be here.
[Because if he's not mistaken, this is a cat from that wizarding school. Katherine's cat.]
and some yet live, treading the thorny road - Post a comment
which leads, through toil and hate, to fame’s serene abode