Prisoner's Dance

Antoni Gaudí, a leading figure of Spain's Art Nouveau movement, once said, "Straight lines belong to man; curves belong to God."

The domes in churches were curved, while the columns supporting them were straight. The Dome of the Prophets in St. Mark's Basilica featured Byzantine-style mosaics.

More than half the tourists went because they had heard it was a popular attraction. They missed the Basilica of Santa Maria della Salute, a Renaissance-era Baroque building.

They ate pizza in Venice and missed Venetian cuisine and modern Italian cuisine.

They barely left St. Mark's District on the main island, perhaps only going to watch glassblowing. They had never been to Lido Island, much less heard of the Moses Project.

They missed many things because they were rushing through their itinerary and stayed in Venice for less than a day.

Love was not pizza, not takeaway you could simply carry off. It was worth patiently waiting for, watching over, and paying the heavy price of time.

Reading required time, and practicing martial arts required time too. The shadow wielding a scraper moved lightly and swiftly, its sharp blade flashing beneath the sunset as brilliantly as Weasley fireworks.

Severus, transformed into black smoke, had robes that danced like flowing water.

Beautiful, yet deadly. At the very least, they looked serious.

Most Muggles seemed incapable of fighting back against wizards, but the shadow was different. He pressed forward step by step, giving Severus no time to Apparate. The instant Severus raised his wand, the shadow bent low and dodged. His body was as supple as a civet cat's.

The Confundus Charm was invisible and formless. Spells traveled in straight lines, while the shadow dodged along curves. No matter how powerful a spell was, once avoided, it was like a bullet fired into empty air.

In