Trying | Hogwarts OC student

chapter 4

Breakfast Tensions

The morning sun cast a weak glow over the Hogwarts grounds as students made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Alistair shuffled along with the rest of the Slytherins, his body heavy with fatigue. The restless night had left him feeling drained, his mind still plagued by the turmoil of his memories.

When he entered the Great Hall, the sight of the breakfast spread did little to stir his appetite. The tables were laden with an assortment of food: crispy bacon, golden toast, fresh fruit, and steaming porridge. Alistair found an empty seat among his housemates and stared blankly at his empty plate.

"Not hungry, Montrose?" asked Theodore Nott, who sat down beside him, piling his plate high with food.

Alistair shook his head, forcing a weak smile. "Just tired," he mumbled.

As he pushed the food around his plate, he felt a pair of eyes boring into him from across the room. Looking up, he met the piercing gaze of Professor Snape, who was watching him intently from the staff table. Their encounter from the previous night flashed in Alistair's mind, reigniting the simmering anger within him.

Snape's scrutiny only deepened Alistair's irritation. He turned away, focusing on the conversations buzzing around him, but he could still feel the weight of Snape's gaze.

"Montrose," came Snape's sharp voice, startling Alistair. The Potions Master had approached the Slytherin table, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I need to speak with you. Now."

Alistair's jaw tightened. He didn't want another confrontation, especially not in front of his peers. But he knew he had no choice. Reluctantly, he stood and followed Snape out of the Great Hall.

They walked in silence until they reached an empty classroom. Snape closed the door behind them and turned to face Alistair, his expression unreadable.

"Care to explain your behavior last night?" Snape demanded, his voice cold.

Alistair crossed his arms, his anger flaring up again. "I don't owe you an explanation, Professor."

Snape's eyes flashed with annoyance. "You most certainly do. Wandering the corridors at night, clearly distressed—this is not something to be taken lightly."

"Why do you care?" Alistair shot back, his voice rising. "You've done nothing but make my life miserable since I got here. What difference does it make to you if I'm struggling?"

Snape took a step closer, his face inches from Alistair's. "I care because it is my duty as a professor to ensure the well-being of my students, even the ones who seem determined to push everyone away."

Alistair's anger surged. "Well, congratulations, you're doing a terrible job. Maybe if you weren't so busy being a tyrant, you'd see that."

The words hung in the air, the tension between them palpable. Snape's expression hardened, his lips curling into a sneer.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Snape said quietly, his voice deadly calm. "You think you're the only one with problems, the only one who's suffered? Grow up, Montrose. The world does not revolve around you."

Alistair's fists clenched at his sides. "Maybe not, but it would be nice if someone actually gave a damn for once."

Snape's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it seemed he would retaliate with a sharp rebuke. But instead, he took a deep breath, his gaze icy and unforgiving.

"Believe it or not, Montrose, I do care. But you need to let others in, to accept help when it is offered. Pushing everyone away will only lead to more suffering."

Alistair glared at Snape, his anger a shield against the confusion and pain swirling within him. "Why should I trust you? You've never given me a reason to."

Snape's sneer deepened. "You don't have to trust me, Montrose. But you will respect my authority, or there will be consequences."

Alistair looked away, the anger still simmering within him. "Fine. Whatever you say, Professor."

Snape studied him for a long moment, then nodded curtly. "Return to your dormitory. And remember, Montrose, defiance will get you nowhere."

Alistair turned on his heel and stormed out of the classroom, his mind a whirlwind of anger and defiance. As he made his way through the castle, he couldn't shake the feeling of Snape's gaze lingering on him, a constant reminder of the animosity between them.

Instead of heading back to the Slytherin common room, Alistair found himself drawn to the grounds outside. The cool morning air was refreshing, and he walked briskly until he reached the edge of the Black Lake. The water was calm, reflecting the gray sky above, and the solitude was a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere of the castle.

He sat down on a rock near the shore, his anger slowly giving way to a deep, aching sadness. He picked up a small stone and hurled it into the lake, watching as it skipped once before sinking beneath the surface. The ripples it left behind seemed to mirror the turmoil within him.

"Damn it," Alistair muttered, his voice cracking. He hated feeling this way—weak, vulnerable, out of control. He drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he stared out at the water.

For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the weight of his emotions, the sadness and frustration that he usually kept buried deep inside. A few tears slipped down his cheeks, but he quickly wiped them away, angry at himself for letting them fall.

"Get it together," he whispered fiercely. "You're not going to let him win. Not Snape, not anyone."

With a deep, shuddering breath, Alistair stood up and brushed the dirt from his robes. He took one last look at the lake, then turned and made his way back to the castle. He didn't know what the future held, but he was determined to face it on his own terms, no matter how difficult it might be.