#cpxvincent

Hogwarts Library, sometime in the AM of October 3rd.

Junjie had snuck out to the library to meet Pollux and put an end to their meet ups in which they’d go over the books in the restricted section to try and learn more than what they were taught in their classes. It had been a pretty short and uneventful meet up, that was, until Pollux mentioned Junjie could’ve been the one person to remember the events of the last day of September.

It was silly to think he, of all people, would be able to look back into memories that were purposely erased. It’s not like he ever succeeded with occlumency, unlike a certain someone who also occasionally sneaked into the library after curfew.

He’d waited a bit, hidden between two bookshelves waiting for Pollux to finally walk out towards the Gryffindor common rooms (hopefully, one never really knew with him). Only then did he pull out his wand, using the lumos charm to light his way towards the doors that lead to the students records room.

As his hand rest upon the handle he could feel the brass slightly warm, it was almost enough to pull a scoff out of him. He put his wand away and opened the door, walking in to find the room immersed in absolute darkness. How dramatic. If the other was trying to hide, this was a laughable attempt at it.

i’ve never been happier about the placement of slytherin dungeons, that’s all i’m saying

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!!

UHM.... HUH LIKE... jogas tu pela Jen na conta dela ou na tua?? porque se quiseres manter pela tua é na boa, depois atribuímos os pontos aos Slytherin (please don’t make the house lose on purpose). If Jen asked of you to do it, i don’t think anyone will oppose much. 

I just guess that for plot purposes this wouldn’t count though, like, the game would’ve still been between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Library

It had been some rough couple of weeks.

They passed by in a blur with Quidditch and the classwork, Castor barely managing to get by with all the assignments and extra work to compensate the past weeks when the brunette had been too out of it to function properly, it reflecting on his grades.

It was all for show however to try and appear as normal as possible. After finding the picture, he nearly went insane with the sudden memory and what it could have meant, guilt burning hot on his stomach everytime he thought about it. 

Castor was in the professor’s office on the night of the murder and he wasn’t alone. It was enough to take the weight off his eyelids as he tried to sleep, tossing and turning the fresh memory in his head as he stared holes to the ceiling. When he was sure Pollux was deep asleep and snoring on the bed next to his, he would take out the mysterious picture of the last day of September from inside his pillow case and look at it for hours, trying to piece it together.

It was fast, but he easily recognised his hand and the small scratch on the wood of his bedside table. Castor took the key and met up with someone, he made that choice. But who was with him? And why would Castor break the rules and break into the Professor’s office when he had entrusted him with the key?

Castor snaps out of it and huffs out a breath, almost slamming his History of Magic book closed with the picture inside it (he carried it everywhere just in case someone decided to snoop). The sound echoed in the quiet library and made a few heads turn, not caring to apologise as he rose to his feet and tried his best not to run or throw up on anyone’ shoes. The thought that maybe he had helped the murderer made him sick.

His initial plan was to get on his broom, let the crisp fall air hit his face and clear his head for an hour or two while he practiced for the next game and took his mind off of murderers and pictures and the stupid aurors, ever present everywhere. That was until he walked straight against someone, who stumbled back and almost fell on the ground if he had not been quick to hold onto their arm.

His nose picked on a familiar strong scent of lavender and that’s when it hit him. The memory of turning back to shush whoever was near him that night, his nose crinkling at the same whiff of lavender. Tightening his grip on the arm he was holding with a small gasp at the realisation, Castor stares daggers at the boy’s confused expression. Vincent.

i tried to.. thrice.. kept being denied so i stuck to books