On the path between two greenhouses, Ted hesitated long enough to wonder just what he was doing out here. Actually the ‘what’ question wasn’t hard: he was here to talk to Neville. It was the ‘why’ that bothered him.
It was so stupid. It’d been over a month since the incident in the “Terror Dungeons” or the “Lost Dungeons” or whatever they wanted to call the blasted boggart-infested place. Everyone had gotten out alive and safe, and even their friendships managed to hold together in spite of everything they’d seen and said. And yet…
Out of the corner of his eye, Ted caught sight of his own reflection in the foggy greenhouse glass. Condensation and snow run-off trickled down the warm surface, dripping steadily over his reflection’s pale face, as though his features were melting right off his skull.
He snapped his head away and closed his eyes, blocking the image from his mind. He set off down the path again, testing each of the greenhouse doors until he found the one that, unlocked, opened at a touch, indicating that someone was working inside. Ted pushed it open and stepped into the greenhouse’s humid warmth, scanning the rows of plants for signs of anything dangerous and-or a glimpse of the man working inside.
“Nev…er, Professor? Are you in here?”