#asher21

When he’d spotted a cat by the staff room, Hnikarr had panicked. Not just an oh god, it’s a cat sort of panic, but a full-on sweaty-palmed, shallow-breathing sort of panic. It was Scabbers - it was fate. The sort of fate that ended in death, not the kind that had a happy ending. Despite his reservations, the boy picked up the cat and stuffed him into his jacket, only glad now that he’d lost as much weight as he had - the feline was barely obvious, or so he hoped. Then again, it did help that poor Scabbers had dropped several pounds, and that he didn’t seem quite as hairy as before, although he really felt sorry for the creature. He made his way through the halls as quickly as he could, only stopping in front of the door to Asher’s room. The seventeen-year-old gave a shaky sigh before knocking, letting Scabbers’ head poke out from his jacket as he did so. Hopefully, Asher would at least talk to him, so he could give him the cat, and maybe try to apologize.