Oh what marvelous things...
Bed number sixty-four was neatly made with clean sheets. It stood untouched beside an empty set of drawers and an empty shelf. Under it rested some well-worn and well-loved newspapers bearing the name Quibbler, and a dust bunny or two.
There were more of the papers, left wherever their previous owner had last been reading them, in the kitchen or in the rec room or even kept in a large glass jar that was currently lodged in the coral reef. Because there was so little chance of death on the island, at least in the way most people, witches and muggles alike, thought of it, she had prepared for the eventuality of moving on instead. Wasn't that really all dying was anyway? It was just that one couldn't take anything with them then, and sometimes the journey was off a little early.
Whether she'd expected to leave early or not would never be clear. On the bulletin board, a small note fluttered as people passed by, a precious scrap of parchment that read:
Have gone to find the snorkack.
--L. Lovegood
And that was all.
There were more of the papers, left wherever their previous owner had last been reading them, in the kitchen or in the rec room or even kept in a large glass jar that was currently lodged in the coral reef. Because there was so little chance of death on the island, at least in the way most people, witches and muggles alike, thought of it, she had prepared for the eventuality of moving on instead. Wasn't that really all dying was anyway? It was just that one couldn't take anything with them then, and sometimes the journey was off a little early.
Whether she'd expected to leave early or not would never be clear. On the bulletin board, a small note fluttered as people passed by, a precious scrap of parchment that read:
Have gone to find the snorkack.
--L. Lovegood
And that was all.