With the flesh of his wrist, Vito gently rid his lip of the blood that had begun to form at the spot, despite the fact that he had received no such injury. Needles to say, the idea of loosing blood over nothing aggravated Vito; he felt that there was nothing more precious than himself, and that included the blood that ran through his stolen veins.
Vito stemmed the blood-flow with the tip of his index finger and carried on his way across Hogwarts' grounds, where his search for a whimpering student continued. He had hopes of coming across that Thompson boy that he had encountered earlier that year, though he knew that his chances were slim; Vito had unfinished business with the child.
It was as though the Death Eaters had gotten to the students of Hogwarts before he had even set foot on the war grounds. Vito smirked; the Death Eaters may have lacked the originality that he craved, but they most certainly knew how to make an entrance - and Vito was a firm believer in presentation.
At once, the grass vanished from beneath Vito's feet, and his shoes met the splintering wood of a dock. Hogwarts' lake. It had certainly been a long time since Vito had gazed at his reflection upon the lake’s shimmering surface. Far longer than Vito could recall... Out of curiosity, he drew himself closer to the body of water; he had been provided with an opportunity to check in with his appearance, and he would not allow such a moment to go to waste.
Upon looking into his own, dark eyes, however, Vito found that he was not at all pleased with his image; the wind would not allow the lake to remain still, and so Vito’s reflection moved with it, dancing about in a jittery manner – as though he were becoming detached from the world once more.
“No,” Vito growled viciously and swiped at the water like an irritated feline, his eyes narrowed. Water was the only reflective element that had ever disappointed Vito, and when he experienced said emotion, it hit him like a speeding bullet. Angrily, the poltergeist, straightened to his usual height and spun on his heel to look in the opposite direction. Vito was an angry child that refused to look his superior – nature - in the eyes.
From where Vito stood, he could still see the electric tips of several wands – reminding Vito of the fact that he was standing at the very edge of a raging storm.
Where was a plaything when you needed it most?