The first time he hears it, he thinks it is just the October night wind wailing at the gates, mournful.
When he hears it next, two weeks later, he wonders again if he is not imagining it. A warm thrumming, a metal thwang, three minors capped with a major.
He stares at his nails when his fingers give a warm jolt, the traitors. From high above, a single note echoes, vibrates.
Magnificent.
In response to Musical Harry by Cayj.
Takes Place: 7th Year
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Snape flavour: Snape is Depressed
Tags: None
Categories: Misc > All written in Snape's POV