A pale, withdrawn-looking young man appears in the Sorting Room. For an instance he looks startled, then almost fearful; when he notices the application on a small table before him, his expression changes to one of despairing resignation. How can he expect them to believe, when he so fervently wishes that his account was nothing more than some feverish nightmare? The dark cloud that obstructed his memory aside - and oh, how he wished it obstructed yet more! - Carter had been nothing but candid in each of his many,
many statements, and this constant questioning is beginning to grate.
( I repeat to you, gentlemen, that your inquisition is fruitless. Detain me here forever if you will... )"I have read the
hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. __RC__.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. __RC__.
One day, the Great Old Ones marmalade will rule the world. __RC__"