Minerva had the same impression, lightning quick, of a man. Santiago, perhaps, tethered to this room decades after his death, like Ginny seemed tied to Joyce House. “You won’t get away with it, you know,” Minerva said for the sake of covering the soft sound of the zipper with her voice. “They’ll investigate if I go missing.” “Students stop attending classes, they drop out.” “Wait. How many students from Stoneridge have you killed?” “Very few, actually. But when I did, nothing came of it. Thomas, Ginny, now you. Oh, a couple of others a few decades ago.
