𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙢. [r. lupin]

prologue

virvain- enchantment

CAL'S PROBLEM STARTED WITH A QUIDDITCH GAME. He was hovering on his broom in front of the hoops he was assigned to protect, struggling to see the flash of blue of his opponent's robes. The weather was downright nasty, sheets of rain soaking his green robes and making the leather of his slightly too small keeper gear quite uncomfortable. Occasionally, he would see the silhouette of the chasers struggling over the quaffle, or the beaters swinging their bats as lightning crashed in the near distance. 

So far, Cal had had a pretty good game. There weren't that many shots from chasers (mainly due to the fact that they couldn't get a good grip on the ball, or when they did, the other Slytherins would find a way to get it back), and any shots that came Cal's way were easily blocked by the blonde boy. Even that one particularly tricky shot by Silena DeLaurentis ended up in Cal's arms rather than through the hoop. Nevertheless, even though Cal Smith was a pretty decent keeper, between the rain obscuring his vision and the unrelenting wit of the Ravenclaw chasers, the other team was able to keep up with the Slytherins, keeping the score tied 30-30, as Harrison Mantle announced into the microphone.

It had been at least three hours of grueling playing, and Cal assumed that by this time most, if not all of the students who had been watching the game when it started had retreated back into the castle. They were all probably huddled around the fires in their common rooms, talking amongst themselves as they slowly became dry and warm. The complete opposite of what drenched, shivering Cal was at the moment. The boy's mind drifted off to his cozy bed, where he would be hopefully soon, warm and happy. While Cal was daydreaming, he finally heard the shrill noise of Madame Hooch's whistle, followed by Harrison's voice. Cal had to give it to him, even though Harrison was usually an annoying twat, he was determined, something Cal deeply respected.

"Theodore Davies has caught the snitch! Slytheri-"

And that was when Cal Smith was hit in the face by a bludger, and his problem started.

❁❁❁

WHEN CAL WOKE UP, HE WAS MET WITH THE SIGHT OF CARMEN SIMONI HOVERING OVER HIM AND A POUNDING HEADACHE. His teammate's curly black hair brushed his nose, as her eyes stared at him with concern. Seeing that he was awake, Carmen sat back in the chair she was sitting in, which was positioned next to Cal's bed, and smiled slightly.

"Hey, you took quite the hit bud," she remarked, and Cal looked around at his surroundings, noticing he was in the Hospital Wing, and that his little bedside table was filled with chocolates and cards from his teammates. He smiled a bit as he picked up a chocolate frog.

"Yeah, everyone on the team was here earlier today," she smiled softly, "I already had a couple sugar mice Eudora left for you. Sorry 'bout that."

"It's fine. What happened?" Cal asked hoarsely. He opened the chocolate frog and grabbed it before it could jump out of the box and began to eat it. Some people liked to read the card first, but Cal never understood that method. Chocolate melts, cards don't.

"So Silas, you know, one of the Ravenclaw beaters," Cal nodded as Carmen continued, "well, just before Theodore caught the snitch, he hit the bludger at you, and then the game ended and Eudora saw you falling and caught you on her broom. Nearly took her out too. So then Pollux and Seth dragged your sorry ass-"

"Miss Simoni, I've told you, visiting hours are over," Madam Pomfrey said sharply.

"Then what are they doing here?" Carmen protested, pointing at three Gryffindor boys sitting at another boy's bed.

"That's none of your concern. Now leave before I have to give you detention."

"Yes ma'am. Bye Cal, hope you feel better," Carmen grumbled as she picked up her bag and left the Hospital Wing. The Gryffindor boys snickered as the Slytherin walked out. Cal simply rolled his eyes. People say that Slytherins are prejudiced and entitled, they obviously haven't met most of the Gryffindors.

Madam Pomfrey walked over to Cal's bed and shoved a nasty smelling vial of liquid into his hands.

"Drink this. You took a pretty nasty hit there, still, I've seen worse. Just a few broken bones and a concussion. I'm just going to keep you here for the rest of the night just in case," she stated matter-of-factly. Cal knew better than to disagree with the woman, even though he was pretty sure he was fine (bar the headache). So instead, he gulped down the liquid, it stinging his throat. He scrunched his face up in disgust. It tasted even worse than it smelled, although Cal previously didn't think it was possible.

"Merlin, what do all you children expect? It's medicine, not pumpkin juice." The woman shook her head and walked away. Cal noticed his bag sitting at the end of his bed, no doubt left by Carmen, and pulled out a textbook and a scroll of parchment, along with a quill and some ink, and decided to busy himself. He tried to concentrate, which was difficult due to the combined forces of his headache, which was thankfully fading, and the rambunctious behavior of the Gryffindor boys.

After what felt like hours of doing his homework from the previous night (it had only been thirty minutes), the annoying Gryffindors left, thank Godric. Cal finished his charms essay not long after, stuffing everything back into the bag. When he looked back up in the direction of the only other boy in the Hospital Wing, he finally got a good view of him.

Something about the boy seemed vaguely familiar, from his hazel eyes with deep bags underneath them to his light brown hair that was a complete mess to his scarred, yet handsome face. Even the way his sweater hung loosely off his frame and he was almost too tall for the bed. Cal's teenage mind immediately started envisioning scenarios between him and the mystery boy. 

"Shit, he's hot," Cal breathed, quiet enough that he doubted the mystery boy could ever hear him.

Despite what Cal though, the mystery boy looked from his book and look directly at Cal, who quickly turned away. Cal felt a blush rush up his cheeks and into his ears, no doubt turning them pink. He couldn't have possibly heard him. You would have to have the hearing of a dog, or his mother when Cal made snarky remarks under his breath.

He recognized the Gryffindor boy from somewhere, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Cal sat there for a little while, think about where he knew this boy from. His mind drifted back to the three other boys sitting there. The answer dawned on him.

That was Remus Lupin. And those boys were the Marauders.

And that was the beginning of Cal Smith's problem. His problem named Remus Lupin.