A tall, dark-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though Charles were looking at him through a misted window. But there was no mistaking him.
“Erik - Erik Lehnsherr?”
nodded, not taking his eyes off
“What d'you mean, she won’t wake?”
said desperately. “She’s not - she’s not -?”
“She’s still alive,” said
Lehnsherr. “But only just.”
stared at him.
had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.
“Are you a ghost?”
“A memory,” said
quietly. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.”