The Forbidden Four: Year One

Chapter Twenty-Six - Bloody Hell

Chapter Twenty-Six - Bloody Hell

Potter was acting strange.

This wasn't too unusual, considering he always acted strange, but Castor was more attentive to every movement he made when in his presence than he ever had been before.

At first, Castor had written it off as his simple (and very well known) disliking for the scarred boy. This, of course, wasn't the case. Ever since he had listened in on the Golden Trio's conversation in the Gryffindor Common Room, he had been having a harder time getting sleep. His days were spent with circles under his eyes, words slightly slurred, and he even managed to spill pumpkin juice all over himself one morning on accident. Once Castor had accepted the fact that he was worried, he got even more worried.

He felt like he would jump out of his skin and descend to whatever torture chamber was waiting for him in hell (though he doubted it could be worse than the anxiety) every time he saw Potter. Some days it was a little easier to manage, but whenever he saw Potter and his idiots trailing behind him, watching Professor Snape closely (and not subtly at all) that anxiety clawed it's way out of the rubble of homework he had buried it under and lodged itself right in his throat.

Then came Tuesday, and all hell exploded.

Castor's mood had already been soured by Potter's win on the Quidditch field, as was everybody else in Slytherin, he had hoped he would be able to go to the Broom Shed, since the sun was still high and shining in the sky and there was a nice, cool breeze that brushed through his ebony hair, without disturbances and get a broom to go flying.

It appeared as though Castor never got what he wanted.

As soon as he got to the Broom Shed, he saw Potter peaking around the corner of. . . A tree? To stare at. . . Something, and he was staring at it intensily.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

Harry whirled around faster than the speed of light, staring wide eyed and flushed from his visible startled state. He felt a spike of anger rise inside of him from just the sight of Castor, but he held it in and yanked Castor by his robed arm towards him and stepped away from the corner of the large trunk of a tree.

"Wha— let go of me." Castor didn't shout. He didn't struggle or kick and try and get away from him, he just glared sharply. Harry let him go and the vile boy jerked away from him like he was a piece of trash. "What are you doing?" Castor asked again in that same robotic tone.

Harry shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips in a 'shhh' gesture, before tilting his head towards the two people standing in the mess of dark floral, then pointed his finger up to the branches above them. A silent order to climb. Against his own wishes, Castor did so, and settled on the tree bark (carefully avoiding sticky sap) next to Potter. this were any other situation, Harry would have shoved Castor away from him as the Slytherin reluctantly moved himself closer, but edged his body away from him.

Castor was confused as to why Potter was letting him near him, and — in his head — wondering why he was following his orders, but he pushed that thought away and slowly peaked around the edge of the tree branch they were on only to see Quirrell and Snape.

His mouth twitched slightly down into a frown and he raised his eyebrows before he could stop himself.

"I'm trying to hear what they're saying." Potter said. Castor ignored him and leaned closer to try and make it out.

"—d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus. . ."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private."