Originally Posted by The Chronicler

It's cover pulsating with its eerie but ethereal bleach white glow, one could almost hear how squeaky clean, like a damp cloth against glass, the tattered leather binding was as it passed from hand to hand.

Squeaky squeaky squeaky squeaky.

At this unremarkable time of day something remarkable happened. As soon as the Flourish and Blotts shopkeeper's eyes had washed over its pages, the book faded out of existence to reappear elsewhere in the Alley.