Closed Ducunt Volentem Fata, Nolentem Trahunt PV Archer Duncan

'I'll miss you both,' Archer sniffed as he fell into tight embraces with both his parents. 'So, so much,' he continued between heaving breaths. After a lengthy exchange of shared sentiments, he would finally take a step back as his father straightened the Scot's robes, disarranged after his array of hugs. His handkerchief dabbing away the final residual tears staining his cheek, the Slytherin smiled, eyes bittersweet. 'I'll miss you...' he said once more, then kneeling to the ground, 'And Scout too.' Bringing the dog to his chest, he held him tightly in a farewell. Collecting himself with one last sniffle, he handed the beloved pet to Papa, hands outstretched in waiting.

'Take these,' Maman eventually said, two gloved hands producing a package wrapped in cloth, delicately tied with a ribbon. His father placing one comforting hand on the boy's shoulders, he would add, voice proud though tinged with melancholy, 'We baked them together, didn't we, Marguerite?' At a nod from his mother, Archer gently reached to accept the gift as Maman withdrew her hands playfully, 'No, no, remember to clean your hands before you eat them, d'accord¹?' Smiling in gratitude, he nodded his agreement, before murmuring a "merci²" as she reached in for one final embrace. Just before Archer was about to step onto the train, she whispered, 'Oh, and I packed four, so share them with a friend, will you?' With one final nod, he did not look back anymore as he hoisted his luggage up the steps.

Sinking into the chairs in an empty compartment facing away from the station which could only bring him tears, Archer rummaged through his satchel, hands eventually gripping onto a thin paperback collection of essays. Propping it open on his lap, his fingers manoeuvred around the ribbon, eventually sending it falling onto the cushion. The fabric unravelled to reveal four still-hot French pastries, pieces of chocolate only half-melted in layers of crispy dough. The sweet aroma of wheat intertwined with cocoa wafting through the compartment, the Scot raised the package to his nose. Folding the fabric haphazardly back and setting them aside for the time being, he would attempt to distract the homesickness creeping up on him all too swiftly with the book in his hands. Of course, he would not know a surprise that seemed much more unpleasant was greeting him soon.

Hazel eyes hastily slipping upwards from his reading material at the sudden opening of his compartment door, his mind would momentarily blank on the figure stood in front of him, distaste obvious in his stance. Having never been a believer of fate or cosmic force, perhaps today was the date to begin, for staring right back at him was none other than the Matthew Campbell. Their downhill relationship had begun in a locale as mundane as the classroom, though truly in a school of magic, mundanity was no oft blessing. Ironically, the spark of Matthew detestation for the boy had been controversies of blood, a topic Maman only shook her head at when he confided in her the details of that morning. Blood does not justify a person's worth... Just as Archer was about to speak out against never having harboured the ideals of blood purists, she had held up a hand and continued, You may not have agreed with her in heart, but you did in speech and action. If you have a bucket of water next to you, you should extinguish the fire, not watch it burn. She had tipped her head, Did you enjoy it? At Archer's earnest shake of his head, she nodded. You ought to apologise to him.

Archer kept Matthew's gaze unflinchingly, despite his initial glare. Nodding in a mask of politeness as he set down his book, a smirk tugged at the side of his lips at his fellow Slytherin's witty remark. Said smile would soon fade even before it truly formed, as Campbell proceeded with a brazen move of his own. 'Hello Mister Campbell,' Archer said, first returning his greeting, voice tight. Sliding across his seat to push the door closed behind him, marking the duo fixed to each other for the duration of the ride, he replied, 'I hope you had an enjoyable summer yourself,' After all, manners were good encouragement for civil behaviour. Gesturing for him to sit so they could converse at eye level, he would lower his head to steel his nerves before leaning closer to the boy in front of him. 'Matthew, I regret commencing a conversation as such, but I owe you my long overdue apologies.' Indeed, it had been nine months since they had last spoken, and unfortunately their last interaction did not end on particularly pleasant notes. 'Last year was marked by mistakes and misunderstandings. Let us use this opportunity of a fresh start well.' In his nervousness, he spoke at a fast pace, though with hope edging at his words. With nothing more to say, Archer offered the boy one small though pained smile playing at his mouth.

The train jerked with a final blow of the whistle, their long nine hour journey back to Hogwarts merely at its start. With the palpable tension between them, he leaned back in remembrance of his mother's words: share them with a friend. Perhaps Matthew was not a friend yet, but he would reach to grab the parcel containing the French treats nevertheless, 'Would you fancy a pain au chocolat?'

1: okay
2: thank you

@Matthew Campbell

“Fate leads the willing, and drags along the reluctant.” - Seneca

Before magic some changes seemed impossible like life was set by rules and those rules were seldom to be broken but after the world itself had changed. Every rule he once believed to be true was now utterly malleable, after all the very principles of his Transfiguration lessons had proven the laws of matter care not for these regulations. If it were possible to turn a snail into a teapot then perhaps it was possible for the aristocratic heir that sat before him to change. Perhaps.

Still, while scepticism prevented him from lowering his guard around the boy, he had so ardently regarded with a hailstorm of negativity over these nine months, Matthew was intrigued by the notion of such change and listened tentatively. Not to mention that starting an argument mere moments into a 9-hour journey would have extended such a time to feel like a life sentence. Truly the fates must have been laughing up a storm given the clear parallel, for the boys had not spoken nor even acknowledged one another in 9 months and in retaliation had been gifted 9 hours trapped in the solo confinement of each other's company. Yet staring at the boy across from him as he leaned closer, Matthew couldn't begrudgingly help but feel that Archer might, might have grown as a person.

Guilt formed lodged deep in his throat upon his mention of mistakes and misunderstandings as the day in the rehearsal room plagued on his mind, as it had ever since. Emotions had run high more times than he could count last year and that fateful day had unleashed an unfair assault on Duncan that he had regretted since. Of course the initial anger had been justified due to their history but what could have been a lovely evening, and had been before his outburst in all earnestness, was ruined by his inability to control those emotions.

It was merely a hint but in his tone lay no malice, in fact merged in with the subtle hints of a pained smile was hope. The smile did nothing for his guilt as Matthew convinced himself that the smile was not painful due to his aversion for apologies but likely strained as, with his own track record against him, anything Archer said could have caused an explosive backlash upon him. Until he had returned home and welcomed the wisdom of his fathers to provide subjective perspective, he had never really considered how his fellow snake had felt nor how his emotions had impacted the boy. In Archer's eyes he saw himself reflected as the cold serpent he had been that day.

Just as he was about to speak the train set off causing a jerk that threw him back against the seat. Matthew had been so lost in the conversation of both Archer and his own psyche that he had not prepared for the start and hit his head off the back off the carriage wincing at the pain. Pulling a hand up to his brown messy curls he gently massaged the area that had hit closing his eyes as he did. Even in that darkness the tension of the room was almost suffocating and Matthew knew something needed to be done to clear the air quick or the journey would be the death of them. Yet Archer wasn't done proving his capacity to change, as he reopened his eyes the sweet smell of chocolate wafted up to his nostrils and filled the carriage with a warmth that fought valiantly to compete against the coldness between them.

Responding to the boy he said, "That would be nice, thanks I've never tried one that didn't come out of a packet." Despite his best efforts at sounding upbeat the tone merely managed to be gracious but upon raising the French delicacy to his mouth and taking a bite he let the warm sensation of the pastry enter into him and decided it was time for some apologies of his own. Swallowing the first bite of the delightful treat that was proved his local supermarket version to shame he levelled a gentler stare on the boy and spoke thoughtfully, "Archer, I would like to apologise as well while we're at it. It seems neither of us were entirely to blame for last year and I may not have been the best at letting go. The whole year feels like a fresh start so I can't see why we couldn't follow suit." Voice heavy with guilt and sincerity he first smiled sadly across from the boy but determined to make the most out of the situation Matthew fixed his face and smiled a real true smile while reaching out his hand, "Matthew Campbell, pleasure to re-make your acquaintance."

Now feeling slightly more comfortable he shoved the pain au chocolat into his mouth and began rifling through his things discarding a sketch book on the seat beside him along with numerous textbooks far beyond their current studying level until he got to the collection he sought. Emptying out a selection that rivalled the trolly ladies own stash he presented an arrangement of muggle treats ranging from crisps, to sweets and chocolates. "It's no homemade French pastry but I'd hazard a guess to say you won't have tried the majority if any of these? Perhaps we'll make a muggle lover of you yet!" Unlike the other times when Matthew had made comments such as this to Archer, there was no sarcasm or cutting wit but pure jest of playfulness and mirroring Archer a trace of hope. Sitting across from his former foe Matthew hoped with his entire heart that Archer could change for if even one person could then there was hope for the world.

Archer had first been acquainted with Matthew blind to even the existence of muggle-borns. Never having been educated otherwise, he had always harboured the belief that the mingling of Muggles and wixen only led to conflicts. Ironically, as much as Campbell disrelished him for assuming so, his distaste only served as fuel for his theory, proving an immediate downhill relationship after even their first interaction. Yet now with hopeful gleams in both their eyes, perhaps his scientific analogies had been completely wrong. After all, if sodium and chlorine could coexist together as table salt, the two destructive cultures might be able to find some peace through coordination.

Or perhaps the definitions of blood status were only born out of social construct. If they had slithered into Archer's perception of people, it must have been time to level out the playing field and forget such labels existed. Blood does not justify a person's worth, were Maman's words, but in truth blood, plain and simple, does not justify a person on any level. Matthew was bound to be so much more than his definitions and despite the treacherous terrains, Archer hoped he could explore the layers that made up his being. The bar was set low this noon so while friendship might have still been a faraway destination he wished to at least achieve civility with the boy.

Gaze fixed on Matthew intently until he opened his eyes to accept Archer's gift, he watched, hazel eyes still tinted with caution as the boy sat across from him took a bite. Breaking eye contact as a rush of shame tinged his cheeks rose despite his considerate words, Archer only turned back as Matthew extended a hand. Deciding to embrace the notion of a fresh start once more, he reached out to shake. 'Archer Duncan,' he replied, then omitting his usual introduction with more casual words, 'Nice to meet you.' Letting go a held breath, he fought down the lingering wariness as he attempted to match Matthew's smile. Recalling with remorse the two times they had made such acquaintance before, he sighed, hoping the saying would prove itself to be true, 'Third time's the charm.'

Nodding agreeably as Matthew presented his own share of food with nothing but cordial intentions, Archer offered, gesturing towards a pastel yellow bag, 'I have had caramel before.' He confirmed, 'May I?' before, at any affirmation from Matthew, reaching into the bag and unwrapping one of the sweets. The confectionary melted in his mouth, rich sweetness seeping into his taste buds and parts sticking onto the back of his teeth as he vocalised his gratitude. Eyes slipping beyond the display of treats to find a multitude of textbooks he had rarely encountered before, he mused, 'You have compelling reading material, Mister Campbell.' Leaning closer and lightly squinting at the cover on the top of the hazardously piled tower, he cocked his head curiously, 'These are aimed at third years at least, if I am not mistaken.' Always the intellect, he said with a genuine smile, 'Well, I congratulate you for reading ahead already. Would you mind terribly if I borrow one for personal study?'

@Matthew Campbell

“Fate leads the willing, and drags along the reluctant.” - Seneca

With the murmur of what could have been contrived as a joke from Archer's lips Matthew couldn't help but let a giggle slip. For an entire summer it had seemed unfathomable that a conversation with Duncan could lead to anything but seething rage and yet the world, being determined to prove him wrong, had other ideas. Maybe third time would really be the charm and these two boys, however different had the potential to be more than rivals. Archer had provided him with a great deal of drive the previous year and the summer had nurtured that seed into a blooming flower but a drive based from hate and spite was not who the young boy wished to be. For anger had all but consumed him last year and he became someone he scarcely recognised.

So if this was to be their new reality then the least he could do was give it a chance, to let it blossom just as the original seed had and perhaps grow new roots in the sunshine of their new dawn. Of all the enticing sweets Archer could have chosen it was unsurprising that a caramel was his first choice and although they were a delightful treat Archer required a proper education in the muggle sweet world that only he could provide. Still offering the bag to the boy he surveyed what he had around him determined to expose the sugar malnourished heir to the vibrancy of muggle Scottish culture, whatever that even meant.

Momentarily he would be prevented from fulfilling his teachings as Archer spotted his summer reading materials in his open satchel no longer covered by the arrangement of confectionary. A slight blush filled his warm cheeks as Archer congratulated him on reading ahead, not from the compliment themselves but derived from the embarrassment of how hard he had to work at things that no doubt came easily to the pureblood. Last year it no doubt would have caused the boys to come to blows but rubbing the Baltic amber that graced his mother's ring he steadied his mind and locked away the twang of pain the feelings caused him. Reminding himself to be proud that in the course of one summer he had not only caught up but began advancing to third year reading materials, light gold flecks began to sparkle in his eyes and he regained his composure.

"I had a lot of catching up to do but simply catching up isn't enough I want to learn everything I can. Technically they're not all mine but I'm sure Tristan wouldn't mind you borrowing one as long as I get it back to him eventually." Matthew's smile was nothing but genuine as he nudged his bag towards his fellow student. Knowledge had become everything to the boy and he knew well that without the aid of his mentor he would not have been able to advance anywhere near as quickly as he had so it would be hypocritical to now hoard it. Despite their differences both boys were clearly avid in their passion for study and literature. Earlier he had been too distracted in disbelief to question the boy's own reading material but now that they were on the subject either his curiosity was relentless. "May I ask what it was you were reading earlier?"

Peering through the books in his bag Archer would find a whole array of texts covering subjects from jinxes, divination and dragons to even a book on the genealogy of the pureblood houses. It was a collection so eclectic and thorough that even he had trouble keeping track of all the different subjects he now knew of. Of particular note were 'The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts' and 'The Book of Spells: Grade III' textbooks as well as 'Moste Potente Potions' all of which were clearly third year or higher material. While he was searching Matthew's face turned mischievous as he smirked and said "I have one condition though, if you want to have a book you must first try some of these sweets and not just another caramel, something properly muggle!"

Sifting through the collection he reached out and grabbed three packages before producing them to the uneducated boy like a salesman offering wares. In his hand lay the choices; one a long red tube with a large white faced man who boasted an incredibly sophisticated moustache labelled Pringles. The next a square packet intersected with red and yellow pattern that was filled with pink and white sweets and said in a comical bubble text Squashies. Finally the last packet was of a red background that showed chocolate covered spheres of honeycomb and labeled Maltesers. "Crisps, sweets or chocolates. Pick your poison!" Their was a true friendliness in his presence that surprised even him and spoke of what the boys could one day be. Yet nine hours was a long time and fate never favoured him for long.

Upon first examination, Matthew Campbell could not have been more different from Archer Duncan. In far too many people's eyes, the former must have merely been a nobody while the latter was nothing but a mean for networking. One might argue that a blue blood heir would find common ground with a run-of-the-mill Muggle-born. Would constructs as pointless as wealth and oppurtunity, granted by chance no less, forever be a line seperating the duo? Would Matthew's attempts at catching up forever fall to futility?

Yet looking past their brunet hair and gold-flecked eyes, the two boys still could not have been more similar in every way that mattered. Both found comfort in their own company, both sought solace in the worlds of fiction, both preferred to keep their minds to themselves. Their subtle ambition, a trait that had been fueled by their original distate, mirrored each other. Such fuel still propelled them both, but he could hope that this day forward it would burn on support rather than detestation. If opposites attracted, then it seemed like likeness had repelled. Archer intended to keep that statement in past tense.

'Hm? Tristan?' He asked with the cock of a head, as conversation snapped him back out of thought. 'As in Mister Theramin?' Archer confirmed, recalling a name he had come across on the team list of the Hogwarts Headliner. 'I must admit I have not had the pleasure of working with him yet,' he conceded.

Caught off-guard at Matthew's question regarding his own reading material, Archer flashed him the cover, battered and yellowed from the first day the boy had lain eyes on it. It had been kept at the very front of Maman's bookshelves, but only for sentimental reason as one of her first introductions to her field. It had obviously not been flipped through for years before Archer requested to read it and save it from a fate of gathering dust. 'It is a collection of essays on geography,' Archer clarified. 'I found it to be an interest of mine,' he added. Unaware of the dabbling in pureblood genealogy, he reckoned it would not have been as intriguing for the boy in comparison to his other reading material. Like his mother, conventional school subjects did not fail to interest him, but rather never sparked the same enthusiasm as anything even vaguely related to Maman's work. His first year had been merely an introduction to the fundamentals of magic and truly he hoped Matthew's more advanced texts could offer some insight.

'You are far too generous with your food, Mister Campbell,' he then jested with a laugh as his house-mate insisted he try more from the assortment. Posion, he thought half-jokingly with the curious raise of a brow. It seemed like they have reached such hostile waters already. Leaning closer to study the three choices Matthew provided, Archer recognised none of the "properly Muggle" snacks. Yet differentiating itself from the confectionary and chocolate was a treat he had never came across before. Marketed on a red cardboard tube were four yellow distorted discs far too thin to be fried dough, advertising the brand of Pringles. Assuming this to be the "crisps" the boy had introduced, he chose the can and turned it over in his hands, cautious as if examining a rare crystal. Squinting at the ingredients list to read dried potatoes and vegetable oil, he lifted the lid to taste one of the odd refreshments. Archer raised a hand in a gesture for Matthew to wait and finally said, swallowing, 'I am no food critic, but are these not just chips in a different shape and with a different thickness?'

@Matthew Campbell

“Fate leads the willing, and drags along the reluctant.” - Seneca

It was almost sad in a way. Not how Matthew was feeling for surprisingly the conversation had been genial if not pleasant. No it was sad that two boys who's eyes quite literally reflected a mirror of each other had such a breadth of distance between them. In another life... a better life? Matthew supposed, they could have been friends and perhaps one day they would but today despite attempts the differences still seemed clear.

Archer's mind was a puzzle Matthew couldn't crack and unlike last year where it drove him to anger and pain it now simply confused him. For how could a boy with such a scientific mind, that his copy of geographical essays was worn away by years of love, be so naive to the world. Were subjects like geography not something that could be easily capable of uniting the two groups, could anything. Tristan's ideology had clearly rubbed off even further from their summer studies. Yet the carriage was no time for this, it was easier to simply remain neutral and offer his snacks. Luckily the devilish glint in him was happy enough to replace his confusion.

Yet even his attempts at fun were to be thwarted by the apparent scientific genius of Archer Duncan and yet the thought crossed the young snakes mind that maybe he was simply still willing every word of his companions mouth to be hostile. The preconceived notions of the boy did well to cloud the truth and Matthew fought with his mind to remove emotion from the equation, for he was safer in logic at least for now. Rolling his eyes in a friendly sort of manner he said "No need to be pedantic Archer, just eat the crisp. I promise it wont kill you!" Using the boys own inflections from his previous comment against him.

Gesturing back to the book while ripping open the squashies and eating one he spoke once more while watching the reaction of the heir, "We studied Volcanos a bit in primary school but other than that I can't say I know much about geography, the only time we've ever left the country was to go to England, I'd love to see the world one day." Had Matthew not been focusing on internalising his emotion he might have shown some of the guilt he harboured for that fact but instead he just gazed longingly out the window. With nothing but his imagination and the internet to fuel his perception he imagined a world bursting with colour and creative minds that designed masterpieces of buildings. Most of the castles in Scotland were destroyed centuries ago but perhaps somewhere in a distant land there still were castles. It was a nice thought that brought a slight smile to his face.

Realising that he was still in company and couldn't afford to lose himself in the world of his own thoughts as he so often did he coughed slightly to cover his embarrassment that was mounting a red blush on his face. The boy had developed such a comfort in his own isolation he often forgot that others even existed for in the palace of his mind there was only him. In the silent cabin, however, there was not and so continuing their pleasantries he asked, "Have you travelled much Archer, France perhaps?" In an attempt to further cover his awkwardness he accepted the invitation of the sweet packaging and began to squish the squishies deep into his mouth slightly hoping they may suffocate him.

Chess happened to be one of the pastimes Archer particularly enjoyed, yet when chess was played out in real life, each move making or breaking his king, being checkmated became a fear while having the board flung over into his face, a gnawing trepidation. Despite his recognition of Matthew's friendly intentions, his own pieces were inched forward bit by bit in an tediously slow attempt. He would have liked to cradle their glass-forged cordiality in a tightly wrapped blanket of security. Family had been the particular blunder he sought to evade in the little game of theirs, aware that it could become the spark to set off a wildfire - and if a wildfire was to burn, it would be anywhere but their tightly concealed compartment. Nevertheless, he would not be elusive regarding his questions. At least the worst outcome of the situation still would not leave him dead with a blade in his heart and the train still chugging onwards.

Phrasing his next words with caution as yet another move in their never ending game of back and forths, he said, 'Travelling often is a privilege I was gifted due to my mother's career.' Indeed, having just returned from Winnipeg in July and Taika in August, his frequent and sometimes spontaneous excursions were an honour. 'She is a cartographer and explorer,' he added swiftly in clarification, lest Matthew make incorrect inferences based on their past interactions. 'France indeed. I visit Lyon every Christmas. It is where she grew up,' he continued. Before he could speak further, his attention was turned towards Matthew. Watching in poorly concealed absolute horror as his fellow Slytherin packed his mouth with confectionery, Archer reached for his newfound "guilty pleasure" of junk food, crisps, in an attempt to distract himself.

Similar to Campbell, Archer found his hazel eyes entranced by the passing rural view, one glance slipped outside tantalisingly aching for more. The Scottish countryside he thought he knew still never failed to deliver serendipitous surprises. A scattering of mountains. A field of wildflowers. A clutter of rivers. Blackbirds taking to the sky. How big she was, wide, never truly explorable. How blue she looked today, clear of rain, shed of her troubling veil of grey mist. How beautiful. They were sights he could barely see. Sights he knew all too clearly. The world rattling on outside their ride, blurring into a green haze still clinging onto summer and shreds of childhood naïvety, waiting for no one. So much outside, yet they were forced to only sneak glimpses of it through the train speeding onwards into their wholly unknown future. I'd love to see the world one day, were Matthew's words. Of course, he would have liked to as well.

'If you would like to see the world I would recommend starting now,' Archer said suddenly, drawing his eyes back to Matthew's, gaze insightful, almost searching for something in his house-mate that he could not quite name. His softly accented voice had been steadied and cleared with genuineness. His face was set in seriousness, unquestionably indicating that, like it or not, they had moved past the shallowest levels of small talk. Archer broke into smiled as his own awkwardness seemed to hit him head on, a hesitant tug at his lips that grew into an encouraging grin. 'It is a very big world.' It was a very big world, so despite the opportunities he was presented with, he would never visit every inch of it. Although cliché, it would be pitiful if his days on Earth were only summed up by the numbers of his exploits. After all, the world was not calculated in destinations but experiences.

'And a very beautiful one,' he said with a pause, almost as if it was entirely an afterthought. Or maybe he was merely saving the best for a dramatic last.

@Matthew Campbell

“Fate leads the willing, and drags along the reluctant.” - Seneca

In the angst of his awkward nature Matthew found a solace of relief when Archer responded in an equal measure of feral consumption. It almost tickled his inside to see the aristocratic gentleman succumb to the tantalising temptation of muggle delights. Yet nothing could compare to the way his mind became enraptured in thought as Archer described his mother's occupation. The wizarding world seemed so vast even more so now that he had knocked upon the doors of knowledge, and thus to be an explorer seemed like an unimaginable desire. How much there was to discover and research out there and Archer had the privilege to experience it.

In many ways that privilege overshadowed their differences in wealth. Master Duncan was not simply afforded the luxuries of money but that of opportunity and accessibility all of which seemed incalculable to a lowly muggleborn and yet as he shared there was no hint of superiority or attempts to belittle. Perhaps Archer truly was just a product of circumstance and held no accountability for his life's blessings and curses as was true for anyone, anyone except Matthew. For he would always hold himself responsible for his troubles. Another day Matthew hoped he could ask Archer about Lyon but for now he would simply accept his own wallowing and return his gaze to the window in line with his companion.

While the world blurred past them out their compartment window the cabin fell silent. Yet unlike their prior exchanges this silence almost bordered on comfortable, for a single soft moment they were simply two boys admiring the rolling landscape that portrayed a world of such great beauty it made clear how painters like Monet could be so inspired. Colours blended perfectly into one another as life flourished its magnificence before their very eyes. It seemed that Archer was as similarly raptured by the scene as he spoke with a sincerity that took Matthew off guard.

In his genuine tone it was clear Archer did not intend to appear ignorant yet naivety still hurt its intended. If Matthew were able to he would see the world in a heartbeat for his soul yearned for adventure and feet longed to pace distant shores, yet reality was an unforgiving power that robbed dreamers warping gravity to pull them down from the stars. One day when he was a full wizard he was driven to make that goal a reality and perhaps this year would be a start for he was now the proud owner of a broomstick, it wasn't anything fancy but to Matthew it was a vessel more inspiring than the great Greek Argo itself capable of literally allowing him to reach new heights. Maybe in this Archer was correct after all, there was no boundary to what seeing the world meant, even if his limitations only permitted to see the surrounding areas of Hogwarts it would be a start.

Conversing with his former foe seemed to be proving to be even more fruitful and rewarding with every word and although they were far off seeing eye to eye, a metaphorical hand seemed firmly stretched between them willing to try. Smiling envisioning a reality in which he travelled the world he turned to the boy and with a friendly tone much softer than he had been prior he said, "I think I will. If every part is as beautiful as this then I shall be the luckiest person in the world to do so." Suddenly all tension released itself from his body making everything feel lighter, his jaw releasing freeing up room for a real smile to escape, it seemed agreement suited the boys.

Losing himself in the merriment of the conversation Matthew's typically introverted mind sprouted a question from his lips without any hint of warning. If one was to believe it he was seemingly having such a surprisingly pleasant time that he had completely lost control of his tongue. In fact now that he was aware of such liaisons he became aware that for a brief moment the constant torment of his internal monologue had silenced. His act was completely unburdened by the fear of rejection or anguish of doubt."May I ask what part of Scotland you're from Archer - from your accent I imagine north, I imagine somewhere divine... I don't suppose you speak Gàidhlig?" Part of the snake wanted to switch the defence back on and cower in the anxiety of his brain but something about Archer disarmed him.

The previous year that disarming felt dangerous and led him to wall up even higher but now curiosity beckoned a different outcome. Would letting Archer in hurt him or help him see the world in a new light. No one could be sure, for that was the very essence of life. Sometimes one simply needed to take a leap of faith.

Archer had been uncertain what sort of reply Matthew would give, and in his fellow snake's gaze, he seemed to have made out the possibility of his words being returned with judgement. Perhaps he had crossed an invisible line or stumbled on a faux pas, or perhaps he had merely caught the boy in thought. Raised with Maman's mathematically regulated mind, dubiety was not a feeling his probing heart sat comfortable with. They were still walking on thin ice, and considering how easily one comment had turned their last conversation around in a one-eighty, Matthew's positive response almost came at a serendipitous surprise. Like Campbell, he had aspirations to explore this big and beautiful world someday, and he too would be very lucky to do so.

Chuckling at Matthew's word choice, Archer agreed with a contended nod, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the thought of his home being "divine". 'I am indeed from the North, Isle of Skye to be exact, but my father’s family was originally from Edinburgh,' he explained, then added, tone fleetingly romantic, distant as his eyes gazed over the accustomed yet still idyllic landscape outside, 'My mother enjoys the scenery and opportunity to explore.' Last year's city tour of Wizarding Lyon with Maxi had left him charmed by the urban environment, but at heart, like Maman, he preferred the, as the French upperclassman had put it, "Arcadian simplicity" of his mountains. Archer then regarded him with a confused cock of the head at the unfamiliar language before the realisation clicked in his mind, 'Scottish Gaelic? I'm afraid not.' He offered Matthew a hesitantly apologetic smile, unable to read his intentions or expectations. 'Do you?'

It still felt like the two of them were being held on a taut string, threatening to snap at the wrong tug. Their relationship in the past year had been a ride as turbulent as a broom through the relentless winter storms, commencing without much hope and potential in the first place. The events months ago in the Rehearsal Room had deflated Archer's hopes of striving for even bare diplomacy... and yet here they were. Peering into Matthew's inquisitive hazel eyes like a curious kitten, he was almost reminded of his own mirror reflection. Deciding to waste no further time and take advantage of the thus far positive conversation, he remarked, 'You and I are not as different as you make us out to be.' Allowing for his romantic ideals to relinquish to gravity and accept reality, Archer continued with a small frown, 'I must admit the gap between us is still cavernous, but it is one I am trying to bridge.' Trying to liven the mood, Archer said, 'For example...' he scanned the compartment in an attempt to settle on something the unlikely pair could bond over. Popping another several of those crisps into his mouth, he concluded, satisfied and with lighthearted cheer, 'With good food!'

When the train had come to a rattling start 11 am and when an abruptly familiar face was shoved into his compartment, Archer had assumed the next eight hours of the ride would be a pit of Tartarean misery. His expectations had not been particularly high to begin with, yet considering how swiftly their past interactions had fallen into hostile waters, their lifeboat of mutual respect and understanding was a harbour among the tempestuous ocean. With the light of friendship just in reach, it would have been a real pity for him not to have grasped onto it-

So much for his little interpersonal philosophy session. It seemed as if the word food was a good wake up call as anything, for moments later a piercing screech of a meow signalled that Zeno, who Archer could have sworn had just been sound asleep minutes before, was now fully energised. What a nightmare of a blessing. Unlatching the door as he attempted to stretch in the confined space, he was not expecting the red tabby to spring into his arms. Barely catching him, Archer broke into a grin, ruffling the cat's fur in affectionate doting as he said with mock impatience, cut through by laughter, 'You little devil! What an impolite greeting.' As he scrunched up his face in a reply, Archer turned to Matthew once more and fixed his rumpled shirt collar, 'My apologies.' Digging into his bag for some cat treats, which he poured into his palms, he mused, 'It seems as if Master Zeno right here is awake and hungry.'

@Matthew Campbell