Frustration and longing clenched and squirmed in Harry’s gut at the sight of the door, at the end of the long corridor he was stood in. He found himself abruptly in front of it, and he reached out his hand to caress the doorknob. He didn’t attempt to open it - he knew that it wouldn’t. Instead, he resigned himself to fantasising about what lay beyond it, and dreaming about what he would do once he had it in his possession. He trailed his index finger down the door, his long nail catching in the grain of the wood, and a new feeling coiled in Harry’s belly - fear. This finger - this long, pale appendage with long, translucent nails - it wasn’t his. Panic clawed at his brain, making it hard to think - he needed to get out. He shouldn’t be here.  He  might realise. And if he realised, if he looked into Harry’s mind and saw the truth, then all would be lost. He needed to get out, now, and quickly. He needed out!! Right now - outoutoutout -