Post by callum mitchell chace on Jul 23, 2012 10:35:24 GMT -5
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- - - - - - - - - - Til all my sleeves are stained red ,[/ul]
' ' There was more than one wizard in his family. Even though Callum Chace was a muggle born, his uncle had also been a wizard. After Cal lost his parents, he went to live with his Uncle. It was strange. Cal was one of the few muggle borns who knew about magic long before getting their letter for school. He was actually disappointed as a kid because he assumed his uncle's abilities were a fluke in the family. There were no other wizards in the family that they knew about so of course Cal assumed he was not one. But when he was eleven and got that letter. Needless to say he was excited about it. Unlike many, Cal's childhood was very happy. His parents died when he was young but he had a good relationship with them when they were around. His uncle was a wonderful man, who was still like another father to him. He had a happy childhood. School was always doable for him. He was tall for his age, always had been, athletic, fairly popular. He went to a wizardry school in Canada obviously but he enjoyed it. Loved it even. He would visit it when he went to see his uncle. It was where he began flying after all. There had been nothing like it for Cal. The freedom, the rush, the spirit of the game. He loved quidditch with all his heart and he was damn good. He had been recruited by the Stonewall Stormers just out of school. Being a professional quidditch player meant he got to travel and play the game he loved, get paid well. Met and gotten engaged the girl of his dreams. Won the World Cup. I mean his life had been blessed.
It had all gone to hell that one full mooned night. The team had been in Scotland celebrating a win and while he stumbled to the hotel, he had been attacked. It all happened to fast but Cal remembered only bits and pieces. He remembered trying to hide from it, he remembered the smell of the beast's breath, and he remembered waking up with the large wounds in his side. He had survived but part of him knew what had happened. Most of him told him it had been just a normal wolf. It was nothing. Nothing bad had happened. It was fine. He pretended for exactly a month, nothing was wrong, nothing had happened but when the next full moon, he went through a painful transition and blacked out. Next thing he knew, he was waking up, naked in the woods with the half eaten body of a child who could have been no more than 12, sprawled across his legs. The guilt from knowing he killed a kid, added to the guilt of trying to pretend like what was happening wasn't nearly destroyed him. That was the reason he left the game. That was the reason he left Abigail. He didn't want her to be brought down by what he was. He hadn't wanted her to know what he had done, and how stupid he had been for pretending it was all good.
That was also why he came here to Hogwarts. The potions master and headmaster both know of his condition. They make him potions to help control himself when he changes. It's been getting better but he still can not seem to even begin to forgive himself for the kid. So far at Hogwarts, he had simply been focussed on forgetting everything that had happened and settle into his new life. His life where quidditch was a game he refereed in and Abigail was just a sweet far off memory. At least, that had been the plan. He was just getting used to it when he noticed the new Care of Magical Creatures Professor's name. Abigail Coalwater. She was here. She was on the grounds and there was no way he was not going to have to face her sooner or later. Cal felt perhaps the best thing was to just rip the bandaid off and get it over with. He knew he wouldn't have the guts to tell her the truth but still. He had just left her with no explanation as to why and he knew that wasn't fair. This was the reason he was making his way through the corridors and currently crossing across the courtyard with nervous determination. He looked over his shoulder briefly before facing front again and having to stop abruptly so that he didn't tackle a very familiar brunette woman, who was just as beautiful as he had remembered. "h-Hey Abby." He said, a nervous smile twitched on his lips.
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