It's debatable whether Hook has any psychic ability. Perhaps the ghosts and forces at work in Rigshospitalet were simply so strong he couldn't help but see them. Some of the patients had seen them too.
Then again, many people saw and heard nothing. It could be that Hook does have some sensitivity to the unseen, or that whatever happened in the Old Kingdom made him more sensitive to it, the way repeated exposure to a mild allergen can worsen the effect rather than acclimate the sufferer thereto.
Either way, he knows something is here, and he can see the little boy if he looks at the place where the quill pen is moving.
"Hello," he says to the ghost child. "I'm Hook. I knew a little ghost girl once who still had her doll. Why couldn't you keep your marbles?"
He nods, timidly, because that's it, that's it exactly. No one has ever guessed that before. No one even knew he died, or that he was murdered. They all thought he had run away when the bomb fell, but he was tied up and bleeding out in the cistern in the basement of the orphanage, the whole time.
Okay, so the little boy's appearance is creepy. But the fact is, Brenda's seen creepy things before, and the tone of the application makes it clear that ghost or zombie or whatever, he is still a little boy.
He sighs, and you can see the bubbles trickle out of his mouth and nose, like he's under water. If she's so inclined to feel it, she may pick up on a wordless sort of homesickness.
He concentrates very hard on making himself solid, and here, since she's smiling at him and everything. Most people don't, they just run away or scream, or both.
Snape points out the obvious. "You have been filling out this application. With some physical difficulty, it would seem. That would suggest you were filling it out to some purpose. Or do you always devote such effort to random movements?
"I am Professor Snape. I am Head of the Hospital. I make potions. I cast spells." That is the simple version. In simple words for this child. "You are at Hogwarts. Were you a wizard? Only wizards may become ghosts." He is matter of fact.
"I thought I was supposed to? Are you always horrible? Isn't that unpleasant? You remind me of Jacinto and he murdered me and threw me down a pool with rocks on my feet. I'm not a wizard, but if I was I would have cursed him into falling down dead."
Before he died, he means, he's already killed him afterwards.
"Not likely. First, I killed a child once, it just doesn't have the same thrill. The only reason I did was because she was the only person in the city with the initials Q.Q. The other reason is there's a no-kill rule in effect, and if I took you off Hogwarts ground, well, I wouldn't be the only one trying to kill you, now would I?"
He has teeth longer than anything his size has a right to. It's a sulkish sort of scream, but a dead-thing's scream, so also prone to raising the hair on the back's of people's necks.
(He's seven, no one said he had to be mature about this sort of thing.)
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Then again, many people saw and heard nothing. It could be that Hook does have some sensitivity to the unseen, or that whatever happened in the Old Kingdom made him more sensitive to it, the way repeated exposure to a mild allergen can worsen the effect rather than acclimate the sufferer thereto.
Either way, he knows something is here, and he can see the little boy if he looks at the place where the quill pen is moving.
"Hello," he says to the ghost child. "I'm Hook. I knew a little ghost girl once who still had her doll. Why couldn't you keep your marbles?"
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His voice is weak, trickly, and disused. He turns to look over his shoulder, and blacker than black eyes widen, the gold irises glinting strangely.
"Stuck," he manages, with more force. The air around him swims, and his image wobbles, a little, like he's being seen through water.
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"The girl I knew was stuck too, in the place where she'd been killed. Did that happen to you?"
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"Hide and seek."
Boo.
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"Hi. My best friend's named Jaime too."
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He sighs, and you can see the bubbles trickle out of his mouth and nose, like he's under water. If she's so inclined to feel it, she may pick up on a wordless sort of homesickness.
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He concentrates very hard on making himself solid, and here, since she's smiling at him and everything. Most people don't, they just run away or scream, or both.
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He is fairly sure men cannot marry, given that it is Spain in the thirties, but he is hardly going to push the matter with this person.
"Who are you?"
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"I am Professor Snape. I am Head of the Hospital. I make potions. I cast spells." That is the simple version. In simple words for this child. "You are at Hogwarts. Were you a wizard? Only wizards may become ghosts." He is matter of fact.
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Before he died, he means, he's already killed him afterwards.
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The air is thick with blood around him, streaming from his forehead, and he is positively alight with menace and fury, because it isn't delightful.
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He has teeth longer than anything his size has a right to. It's a sulkish sort of scream, but a dead-thing's scream, so also prone to raising the hair on the back's of people's necks.
(He's seven, no one said he had to be mature about this sort of thing.)
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Why does Phoenix come to all the weird sortings?
"Well, actually, in some places, men can marry men."
He tried not to show how creeped out he is.
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He's pretty sure God said that that was not alright. He doesn't know, though.
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And Santi is a dead seven year old who can't remember his own name half the time.
"But it's 1939."
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