The Forbidden Four: Year One

Chapter Twenty-Five - Three Reasons Castor Hates Harry Potter

Chapter Twenty-Five - Three Reasons Castor Hates Harry Potter

     Lucius had told Castor to keep an eye on Harry Potter — which was already dreadful enough on it's own — but he had to report back to Lucius and follow Potter and his band of buffoons straight into danger? Castor knew Lucius didn't necessarily like him, but he didn't think he hated his guts this much. This had to be a punishment for something. Castor thought back on every single moment he had ever spent with Lucius and could come up with nothing. Maybe he was a monster in his past life, a flesh eating demon or something, because there was no way in hell he did something so bad in this life to deserve this.

Even if he hated it, Castor took his job very seriously. And he was pretty good about not getting caught.

     The first time he spied on Potter — not really the boy himself, it was, instead, his bushy haired friend. Castor noted that her front teeth were a bit too big for her upper jaw, and that her mouth hung open a little when she was distracted. It was a good thing, too. Castor managed to swiftly avoid catching her attention because of just how engrossed she was in that huge book on her lap. It had to be over six-hundred pages, and it didn't look like a normal fantasy or even History. It did not look like a book Castor would read, and he doubted that Potter and his little Weasel read anything at all. Even if they did, he didn't think that Weasley's big nose would let him see very far in front of him. Now that he thought about it, maybe that's why the red-head tripped so much. . .

Castor stepped behind the bookshelf and picked up a random book, 'Salices Sanguis'. He scrunched his nose up, Latin. He couldn't speak Latin, which he found very weird considering witches and wizards literally had to speak incantations in Latin.

     When Castor saw Hermione stand up and head for the next bookshelf over, he flipped the book open to a random page and held it up (suspiciously close) to his face. He grimaced when he got an eyeful of a naked woman being eaten alive by a man. That image would definitely be haunting him for a bit. Ew.

Hermione didn't even glance in his direction, she just put the book back where she got it, and walked up to the Librarian. Castor thought he heard her ask if she could come back and get it later, to which the woman nodded and looked back down at her own book. Castor watched her go and — once she had exited the door — wasted no time in shoving that book back into place, silently hoping that maybe it ripped a little because seriously, who keeps something that disgusting in the non-restricted section, and then headed for the other side of the bookshelf, the side Hermione had been on.

     There he pulled out the book from it's place in the shelf and pursed his lips when he saw the title. 'Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science' seriously? Despite his very potent mix of annoyance and impressment (which he would never, ever admit to), he flipped the book open and sighed. This was going to take a while.

This did in fact, take a while. The entire time, Castor was silently praying that there was both something and nothing in here at the same time. He hoped that there was something, because if there wasn't that meant that he spent an hour and twenty-three minutes scanning through this book only to come up with nothing. The other half of them started screaming internally when he laid eyes upon the paragraph: "The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife Perenelle (Six-Hundred and fifty-eight.)"