Trying | Hogwarts OC student

chapter 34

Days turned into weeks, and Alistair's patience wore thin with each passing day. Lila had disappeared without a trace, leaving him in a state of anxious frustration. He had sent her letter after letter, each one unanswered. The uncertainty gnawed at him, fueling a growing anger deep within.

One evening, Alistair found himself standing alone by the Black Lake, skipping stones with a fierce intensity. His mind raced with unanswered questions and unspoken fears. Why had she stopped writing? Was she hurt, or worse, had she moved on without a second thought?

The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and Alistair turned to see Snape approaching with his usual air of authority. The sight of the professor only fueled Alistair's simmering anger.

"What do you want, Snape?" Alistair snapped, his tone sharp with frustration.

Snape regarded him coolly. "I've noticed your distraction, Montrose," he said evenly. "Is something troubling you?"

Alistair clenched his fists, struggling to contain his anger. "Troubling me?" he scoffed. "You wouldn't understand."

Snape's gaze hardened slightly. "Try me," he challenged, his voice low and measured.

Alistair turned away, skipping another stone angrily across the water. "It's none of your business," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Snape stepped closer, his presence imposing. "You seem to forget, Montrose, that your actions reflect on Slytherin House," he stated, his voice tinged with warning.

Alistair spun around to face him, his frustration boiling over. "This has nothing to do with Slytherin House!" he retorted, his voice rising. "This is about someone I care about, someone who's disappeared without a word!"

Snape regarded him with a penetrating gaze. "And who might that be?" he inquired, his tone betraying a hint of curiosity.

Alistair shook his head in exasperation. "Someone you wouldn't understand," he muttered bitterly.

Snape's expression remained unreadable. "Sometimes," he said quietly, "things aren't what they seem."

With that cryptic remark, Snape turned and strode away, leaving Alistair alone by the lake, his anger mingled with a sense of helplessness. He clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on him.

As the sun set over Hogwarts, Alistair retreated to his dormitory, his mind consumed by thoughts of Lila. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, and his anger burned hotter than ever.

The following morning, the echoes of Alistair's anger still reverberated in his mind. He found himself back in the dungeons, where the cold, stone walls seemed to reflect his inner turmoil. The whispers of his fellow Slytherins seemed louder than ever, their eyes following him with a mix of curiosity and judgment.

He trudged to the Potions classroom, his thoughts still a jumbled mess. The flicker of hope he had once held for Lila's return had faded, replaced by an overwhelming sense of betrayal and confusion. The morning air was crisp, and the shadows in the hallway seemed to stretch longer, mirroring the darkness that had settled within him.

As he entered the classroom, Snape was already there, preparing for the lesson. The moment their eyes met, a charged silence filled the room. Alistair's jaw tightened, his earlier conversation with Snape replaying in his head. The professor's words, though seemingly dismissive, had cut deep.

"Montrose," Snape's voice broke the silence, his tone unusually sharp. "You're late."

Alistair grunted, barely acknowledging the comment. He slumped into his seat, his gaze fixed on the floor. The room seemed to close in around him, the bubbling potions and the flickering light casting eerie shadows.

"Is there a problem, Montrose?" Snape asked, his voice laced with a cold edge that made Alistair's blood boil.

Alistair looked up, his eyes blazing with unspoken fury. "You think you can just walk in here and act like you know everything?" he snapped, his voice loud enough to make the class fall silent. "You have no idea what I'm going through."

Snape's eyes narrowed, his expression unwavering. "You're right, I don't know. But I can see that you're letting your anger control you. That's dangerous, Montrose."

Alistair stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. "Dangerous? You think you can lecture me about danger? You don't know anything about my life, Snape. You don't know what it's like to be left in the dark, to feel abandoned!"

The room was silent, the only sound the steady drip of potion ingredients mixing together. Snape's face was impassive, but his eyes bore into Alistair with a depth of understanding that made the young Slytherin falter.

"Sit down, Montrose," Snape commanded, his voice steady and low. "We will discuss this later, in my office."

Alistair hesitated, his anger mingling with a strange, almost desperate urge to be heard. He slammed back into his seat, the force of his movements causing a few Slytherins to flinch.

As the class resumed, Alistair's thoughts were a whirlwind. The potion in front of him seemed to swirl with the same chaotic energy inside his head. He didn't notice when the lesson ended, his focus shattered by the storm of emotions he couldn't control.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of class, Alistair found himself outside Snape's office, the door slightly ajar. He took a deep breath, his knuckles white as he knocked, the sound echoing in the empty hallway.

"Enter," Snape's voice was cold, but there was something else beneath the surface—something that made Alistair's heart race.

He pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit office. The walls, lined with ancient books and potion ingredients, seemed to close in around him. Snape was seated behind his desk, his expression unreadable.

"Sit," Snape gestured to the chair opposite him. "Let's talk."

Alistair sank into the chair, his hands trembling. "Why are you doing this, Snape?" he demanded, his voice breaking. "Why won't you just leave me alone?"

Snape leaned forward, his eyes locking with Alistair's. "Because, Montrose, you're better than this. You have potential, but you're letting your anger consume you. And it's not just about Lila, is it?"

Alistair's eyes filled with tears, the flood of emotions overwhelming him. "You don't understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I feel like I'm losing everything. My head, my heart... it's all falling apart."

Snape's expression softened, just for a moment. "Then let's start with the truth, Alistair. Talk to me. Tell me what's really going on."

Alistair took a deep breath, the weight of his words heavy on his chest. "She left, Snape. Lila just... vanished. No letters, no messages. It's like she never existed. And I'm here, stuck in this place, with no one to talk to, nothing to hold onto."

Snape's gaze was steady, his voice calm. "You're not alone, Alistair. We're here. And I'm not going anywhere. But you need to find a way to channel this anger, to use it, not let it consume you."

Alistair nodded, the tears spilling down his cheeks. For the first time in weeks, he felt the burden of his anger lift, just a little. Snape's words, though harsh, carried a strange comfort—a reminder that he wasn't as alone as he thought.