Not Slytherin, please, not Slytherin... Caith waits for the sorting hat's decision, agonizing over what the other students would think if he ended up in his father's house. The train ride here was bad enough. The dirty looks, being rejected from every occupied compartment.
Caith walks through the Ravenclaw common room into his new bedroom, past the others. He smiles weakly as Salem greets him with a low hoot, perched on his bedpost. "Thanks, Salem. I needed a friendly voice." He sits on his bed and stroaks Salem's feathers. He can't help but let out a few tears.
Another Ravenclaw first year comes into the room, glaring harshly. "I can't believe they let you in here." The boy's tone makes it obvious that he wishes Dumbledore hadn't trusted Caith to come on campus, much less into the dormrooms.
"Me neither." Caith gets up and leaves the room, hoping to find a quiet corner where he can be alone.
When Caith returns hours later, his room mates have been asleep for quite a while. He lays down on his own bed and falls into an uneasy sleep.
A Ravenclaw seventh year sneaks into the first year room, the others have already gone down for breakfast. He creeps closer to Caith, who seems sound asleep. The seventh year steps on a loose floorboard, making a loud creak, grimaces, praying Caith won't wake. After a moment, he desides Caith is still deep in slumber and prepares to preform the spell that brought him in here.
Caith sits up suddenly, wand pointed, and yells "Sectumsempra!" The seventh year grasps at the deep gash across his chest as all the color drains from Caith's face. He drops his wand and runs out of the room, calling for help.
He comes back moments later behind Professor Flitwick. "I... I didn't mean... Professor..." By now, the seventh year is out cold, Caith takes this in. "I thought he was..."
Professor Flitwic motions for Caith to go.
The day passes by, Caith feeling as if he might feel less pain if Professor Dumbledore had let the ministry take him back to the dementors, or at least taken away from Hogwarts. No one in the school had missed the rumors. They all seemed to think it was merely luck that let Conner, Caith's victum, stay alive.
Due to these circumstances, Caith was allowed to move into a private room, where the other students wouldn't be able to sneak up on him while he slept. He walked in, deeply depressed. Again, Salem greets him with the same low hoot, but Caith simply colapsed on his bed and stared at the cieling, yet again wishing he could hide away somewhere, like his father.
A few weeks later, Conner comes back into the common room, where Caith is doing homework, actually waiting to see if Conner wanted to retaliate. Conner glares at Caith, then motions out of the common room, into the hall. Caith follows Conner.
"Don't get cocky, kid. That was one hell of a cheep shot."
Caith stares at the floor. "I... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I thought you were..." He cuts himself off, not wanting to finish that sentence. "But you were gonna send somethin at me... weren't you?"
Conner blinks. He's apologising? "Of course I was! You... you..."
A few drops of water splash on the floor, dripping off of Caith's chin. "I... I... hurt someone you cared about... didn't I?"
Conner punches Caith, hard. Caith's breathing gets short, pained, but has nothing to do with the black eye.
"Hit me all you want. I deserve it." Caith's eyes are closed tightly, braced for whatever Conner decides to do to him.
Caith limps into the common room about an hour later, bruises cover his face, and there are others hidden by his clothes. He quickly gathers his books, painfully aware of the stares following his every move, then limps into his bedroom.