#cpxcastor

Morning - Gryffindor Common Room.

Pollux couldn’t be happier for the fact most people had the first period occupied with classes and he simply hadn’t. He was a free man for those few hours, usually he’d take up that time with a little extra sleep, but whenever he’d spend the night out, it always made up for plenty opportunity for a refreshing shower and a morning snack just before his first class of the day.

He passes by a table with a big bowl filled with cookies and snatches a handful. There wasn’t a single student in sight so he simply makes a beeline to his favourite chair by the window.

Quidditch Time!

I’ll cut it short and simple: tonight’s game will reflect the result of the in-plot game of last Saturday (October 13th 2018). It’ll consist in 12 rounds of instrumental kpop music which you’ll have to guess correctly to earn 50 points, and a bonus song that will get you 100 points.

Each round will be spaced by 5 minutes starting at 23:15.

Good luck!!

MONDAY, OCTOBER 8TH

     Castor was on his his way to History of Magic class when a sudden chill ran down his spine. Sure, eerie feelings were almost a constant thing at Hogwarts, and perhaps the fact he had to attend the class of the late professor Jeremy that was now lectured by a ghost didn’t help.

     Nevertheless everything was simply... far too silent.

     He looked around in search of any of his colleagues an in a quick glimpse he spots it.

     At first it seemed like a simple paper, perhaps a love note that slipped between the pages of someone’s book. A post-it (something Castor learned about in muggle studies many years ago). It seemed to have been something Castor just couldn’t ignore as it could be important to someone.

     He leant over and picked it up between his middle and forefingers, a gasp escaping him when he noticed it was a photograph. Weirdest of all, a photo of the day of the murder, as the numbers on the back suggested.

     Curiosity took over and he turned it around to get a better look of the image: a key. It was a simple, old-looking, somewhat rusty key that would suddenly get snatched by a hand.

     All at once the memory hit him. That key had been given to him by none other than Professor Jeremy himself, it’d open the door to his office. Castor now remembered the man smiling as he put the small object in his hand, and he also remembered using it that same evening. He could vividly make out the memory of himself shushing someone over his shoulder as he opened the door on the last day of September.