Again the memory floods his mind, this time with a new detail. The booming bass that pierced the cracks in the corrugated iron wall of the shed, fueling his rapture, and suddenly it doesn't seem so torturous to talk about it any more. He looks up. His father's face is contorted in nameless horror, as if Scorpius" mere mention of the escort to the shed had alerted him to what Æthelred had wanted.