Snape's eyes narrow as the man across the street suddenly gets to his feet after checking his surroundings. He hasn't noticed anything that should have rattled the Muggle, and doesn't think anything should have alerted him to his presence, so his sudden departure into the house is worth noting. Granted, the movements through the house (or at least what he can judge from the faint light filtering through the curtains) seem normal enough for an unsuspecting Muggle, but Snape is slowly learning to trust his instincts.
Still, instincts can't immediately overpower almost twenty years of bigotry and prejudice towards the relative uselessness of Muggles. He remembers the man he had the misfortune of calling father, remembers the viciousness of poisonous words and the pain of meaty fists meeting a malnourished body. He also remembers the pathetic, fearful pleading the night he had returned to Spinner's End a newly graduated wizard and full-fledged Death Eater. Most Muggles are full of bluster and bluff, displaying small-minded disbelief and fear towards the wizarding world while greedily coveting the magic they cannot understand or ever hope to wield. To them, magic is at once an abomination and a perceived shortcut towards an easy life.
That thought is enough to draw a derisive snort out of the wizard, one that is thankfully muffled from other ears thanks to the silencing charm that surrounds him like a second cloak.
A few minutes after the light in the kitchen goes on, Snape detaches himself from the lamppost and quietly makes his way over to the bed of petunias. His wand slips into his hand, the softly glowing tip changing from yellow to green by the time he's stopped next to the freshly overturned dirt. There's no doubt that Mundt has at last been put down like the mad dog that he is, but how a Muggle accomplished that particular feat is beyond him. At least this means he's successfully accomplished the first part of the tasks assigned to him.
On the other hand, this has now left him with several more questions that require answering before he can return to England and face either of his two masters.
Snape scowls down at the flowers that have the audacity wave at him in the light evening breeze, and he ruthlessly crushes down any associations they may have with another particular species of flower. Instead, he turns that fierce glare towards the door of the neat little house, debating if it would be better to storm through it or simply knock. That he doesn't know exactly who or what he is dealing with is the only thing keeping the young Death Eater from blasting the door off its hinges.
He takes a moment to consider his options as he casts a few 'notice-me-not' wards along the perimeter of the front yard to dissuade prying eyes. His movements are precise, practiced, and he stops briefly to admire his handiwork before turning on his heels to calmly and cleanly blast a hole where the front door used to be.
Instincts may not have won the battle against ingrained prejudice, but at least Snape has the sense to use the cover of that particular commotion to transfigure the kitchen window into a full-length door in the wall and enter the house that way.
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Still, instincts can't immediately overpower almost twenty years of bigotry and prejudice towards the relative uselessness of Muggles. He remembers the man he had the misfortune of calling father, remembers the viciousness of poisonous words and the pain of meaty fists meeting a malnourished body. He also remembers the pathetic, fearful pleading the night he had returned to Spinner's End a newly graduated wizard and full-fledged Death Eater. Most Muggles are full of bluster and bluff, displaying small-minded disbelief and fear towards the wizarding world while greedily coveting the magic they cannot understand or ever hope to wield. To them, magic is at once an abomination and a perceived shortcut towards an easy life.
That thought is enough to draw a derisive snort out of the wizard, one that is thankfully muffled from other ears thanks to the silencing charm that surrounds him like a second cloak.
A few minutes after the light in the kitchen goes on, Snape detaches himself from the lamppost and quietly makes his way over to the bed of petunias. His wand slips into his hand, the softly glowing tip changing from yellow to green by the time he's stopped next to the freshly overturned dirt. There's no doubt that Mundt has at last been put down like the mad dog that he is, but how a Muggle accomplished that particular feat is beyond him. At least this means he's successfully accomplished the first part of the tasks assigned to him.
On the other hand, this has now left him with several more questions that require answering before he can return to England and face either of his two masters.
Snape scowls down at the flowers that have the audacity wave at him in the light evening breeze, and he ruthlessly crushes down any associations they may have with another particular species of flower. Instead, he turns that fierce glare towards the door of the neat little house, debating if it would be better to storm through it or simply knock. That he doesn't know exactly who or what he is dealing with is the only thing keeping the young Death Eater from blasting the door off its hinges.
He takes a moment to consider his options as he casts a few 'notice-me-not' wards along the perimeter of the front yard to dissuade prying eyes. His movements are precise, practiced, and he stops briefly to admire his handiwork before turning on his heels to calmly and cleanly blast a hole where the front door used to be.
Instincts may not have won the battle against ingrained prejudice, but at least Snape has the sense to use the cover of that particular commotion to transfigure the kitchen window into a full-length door in the wall and enter the house that way.