Make Each Other Less Alone, Together PV Closed

Second year. Take two. A new-and-improved June for a new-and-improved year. June had packed up her things from summer camp two days prior, so the early-morning tear-down was not a problem for her.

She bounded aboard the red locomotive, her robes neatly folded at the top of her trunk for easy access later in the day, peering into the cabins to find someone to sit with. This year, thankfully, she actually had people she could sit with, and she knew she wouldn't be destined to sit alone in a compartment. Not that she had last year, of course, but hopefully this year's cabin-mates would bode more substantial friendships than her first year.

It was then that June spotted a familiar face sitting all alone in a compartment. Seven Corigault-Seto, a kind but slightly odd person (with a slightly odd name) who had stayed in June's tent at summer camp. Surely they wouldn't mind a few more hours sharing a space with her, right? Not to mention how last year June was granted company when alone in a compartment, it seemed like her duty to pay it forward.

She knocked twice on the cabin door before sliding it open. "Hello, again! May I join you?" June pulled her trunk into the cabin before setting it above the empty bench (which took some effort, even with her slight height gain over the summer), brushing off her hands once it was secured. She turned and offered a soft smile to Seven as she sat across from them. "It must be nice to know that you have some friends at Hogwarts already."

Seven seemed nice, but June certainly didn't know them well enough yet to be able to pinpoint what house they would be sorted into. An exuberant lion? A vivacious badger? An ostentatious snake? Or, perhaps a... flamboyant eagle? Only time would tell.

"You know," June noted aloud, "of the three times I've ridden this train, two of them were with someone from America. Actually, both of those times were the journey to the school, as well." She chucked lightly. "Perhaps I should make it a tradition?"

Interacting With: @Seven Corigault-Seto & @June Selwyn | Mentioning: @Marshal Mozor to a legitimately unhealthy amount like someone pls help him get a life | Dialogue Hex: #143314

Relative to the positioning of his trunk and strangers’ shoes, comparing the correlation rates of acute migraines and the inability to socialise, and accounting for the distance between his patience and every single interaction he’s ever had with anyone who wasn’t his mother, all the reference points the boy had gathered over the course of three-going-on-four academic years made one thing clear: Leonard Oaksworth was far from lucky when it came to choosing what compartment he’d go into. Garrulous pureblood girls with fancy trinkets who then fancied themself far above the likes of an unfancy half-blood, awkward acquaintanceships that were stymied by one of them suddenly disappearing, chaotic entrances from people who found it appropriate to scatter their trail mix of drama onto the floor; unflattering snapshots cluttered the scrapbooks of his memory to the point where he wished that apparition had been taught in first year so he could teleport himself onto the tracks. He could only keep a series of litanies and petitions protecting him against, in colloquial terms, absolute weirdos rotating about his mind, hoping that the year would start off with less of a voodoo zombie bang and more of a silent sparkler that let him read to his heart’s content.

Leonard had taken initiative when it came to packing up, ridding his bunk of any sign that he’d before the international students left for their own schools. While there were pockets of trivial fun that only the Summer of Relentless Hormonal Idiocy could allow, the aftermath of August 28th lurked beneath the surface, a kraken gripping precariously at his caudate nucleus, and for the sake of his sanity he was going to row the hell out of there as soon as he could. He snapped a finger close to his ear, once, twice, thrice. The sound was piercing, cleansing his throat of the parching possibilities that could solidify the unfettered horror of his fourth year. At the even louder sound of an unkind cough behind him that was less a sign of oncoming illness and more a reminder that other people were trying to find seats, he carried on forth, examining and collecting a host of terrible impressions from the unimpressive populace of the Hogwarts Express. Chattering children, their candy-coated teeth clicking together without a hint of tact in their raucous conversations. Hysterical underyears, their sobs wracking a select portion of the train’s windows so their parents’ ears could see them in all their maladjusted, ‘what a sweet photo for the family group chat’ glory. Houses of bones held together by ligaments and underdeveloped muscle, rented flesh using their frostbitten fingers to draw smiley faces on the windows. Nobody he wanted to spend the next couple of hours with, nobody he wanted to talk to when there was Marshal. Marshal, a shining sun in the corridors’ storm of bumping shoulders and unremarkable students destined to become marks on a professor’s paper and nothing more, so adventurous, so bright. Marshal, his best friend, and him, undeserving but acting like they were on equal enough ground to joke around, to stomp on his foot when he threw Leonard towards any random girl in the halls. Marshal, too good for that stupid snake who kissed some girl stupid enough to think that Leonard was even half deserving of being kissed back when Marshal was right there. Now Marshal was not there, and Leonard did not know whether he was relieved or even more burdened, even when the answer was obvious because Leonard was moving past perfectly empty compartments without so much as a blink towards them. Now Marshal was a shadow that stood in the middle of the train, tempting him towards miscellaneous grins, making him peek at heads of darkening blonde hair. Leaving him. Or was he the one who was leaving, despite their shared destination? Was Marshal thinking about him, looking at all of these people?

He paused, catching a glint of golden (though no longer braided, to his slight surprise) hair and a dark bobbed cut that could only belong to one peculiarly named oncoming first year. His tentmates, a girl and an ostentatious tree-hugger whose wardrobe was probably made of wool sweater vests and one pair of dorky pants. Out of all the Eyebatch Pwnies, they were the least of any emotional evils lurking in the chamber of his cerebral cortex, and though he was more than slightly surprised to see June without the companionship of one cereal pissing Irish girl, the words leaving her mouth made way for an entry that would basically guarantee him sanctuary from all the, in even more colloquial terms, nutters outside. He could leave Marshal for now. He could be here. He could be functional, here, and he could put everything aside to be a Good Role Model for June and Seven.

It was a little bit disappointing, the Leodad in him mused, that July was the seventh month of the year.

“If your tradition can make room for a Welshman and his dragon, perhaps you should,” he said, waving hello with a toothy smile that may have remained familiar to Seven after their first meeting. The dragon in question sat still in his container, grumpiness radiating from his 13 inches of body. If there was anything Leonard had learned from summer camp, it was that Merlin couldn’t be trusted until every door in a hundred-metre radius was locked. “Good day to you both, Seven and Selwyn.”

He stood near the doorway, only properly going inside when he noticed another passerby trying to squeeze past. The enclosed space made for less situations wherein his pair of Oxfords–coincidentally the same ones he’d worn on the first day of summer camp–could nearly meet Seven’s head, but he’d have to take his chances. He took a seat next to Seven, feeling a bit like he’d interrupted an interview for seeing how this American would fare in her friendship booklet.

“Truth be told, I was pretty nervous during my first trip in here. I’d been in trains a few times before, but those were all short trips to muggle destinations,” he offered with zero prompting, as though he was a senile old man rattling off stories of the good old days to his grandchildren. You could remove the ‘as though’ from that sentence and still have it be correct, really. “I’m unsure about how they get to school in Ilvermorny, but considering that we’ve got the objectively cooler house names, I’m sure Hogwarts has the superior mode of transportation.”

Interacting @June Selwyn, @Leonard Oaksworth |
Mentioning @Marshal Mozor, @Evelynn Decipio

Seven smelled Leonard a second before he saw him. The clean-cut smell of books, the breaking-open of a freshly-baked loaf of bread, the bitter smell of wilting grass. Wait—that last one didn’t smell too good. And the absence of Marshal—that fiasco over the summer—Seven was in the tent of quick implosions, for heaven’s sake—June was there too—did everyone seem to feud over Evelynn?—well, the end result was that here Leonard was, looking a bit peaky, and Seven was glad to see him, and more than glad that June had joined the compartment moments earlier.

He had thought she was interesting—clean laundry, peppermint, neat blonde hair and well-spoken with a sometimes stubborn bite to the end of her words. Apparently on every train ride she ended up with an American somehow? (Seven hoped, fervently, that they hadn’t been too weird—else he’d have a lot to make up for—) Leonard cracked a joke about the horrible naming game of Ilvermorny, and Seven grinned. “You're saying you don’t like the sound of Pukwudgie?”

(No shade to some of his friends from back home—who might have been getting sorted into Pukwudgie right now—)

A subtle jolt under their feet. Slowly, the station outside began to slide left. Seven pressed his face close to the window and waved furiously, drinking in his parents faces for what felt like the last time but he knew that it wouldn’t be— and the station swept past, until he could no longer see his parents or the platform, and they were moving, on their way toward their futures.

He sat down again and turned to June. (Gosh, this gratitude— was he glad she sat down in his compartment, in her Benevolent Older-Classmen Kindness—!) He couldn't help the smile he gave her. He knew Leonard was in Slytherin, but he wasn’t entirely sure about her—“I know Leonard is a reptile... what House are you in? Do you like it in there?" Then, trying not to let his anxiety show: “I’m unsorted, so.”

More than the gradual chilling of the air or the subtle changing of the leaves, the final visit from his family marked the truest sign that summer was over, at least as far as Nicholas was concerned. The year prior, the summer camp had taken place at the school itself, and thus his parents and siblings were necessitated to be content to wish him well at the commencement of August. Being sequestered in London itself changed that, and the entirety of his nuclear clan had elected to make the trek across the floo network to wish their eldest son well in his final year of Hogwarts free from the influence of his younger siblings. Ruffled hair, kisses upon sunburnt cheeks and a sullen look from Trav later, the soon to be third year found himself aboard the Hogwarts express. Albeit, barely before the train had managed to leave the station. Why his mother insisted on lambasting him for his hair one final time before he set off for the new school year was well and truly beyond him, but he didn’t feel the need to properly argue the point. Instead, he’d taken his licks, wished them his love, and set off on the immense steam train on its northbound journey.

Shouldering his bag, Nicholas made his way through the compartments, muttering pleasantries where required, and doing his best to avoid eye contact where otherwise necessary. Ideally, he’d find a relatively quiet compartment and sleep for the remainder of the trip. He didn’t dislike socialisation, but he felt no great need to engage in it. Sure, it was better than sitting awkwardly with a group of strangers, but he also had no great desire to engage in small talk for the hours it would take to reach the castle that would serve as their home for the rest of the scholastic year.

Alas, as was the case the year prior, there were no such free compartments. Ironically, his salvation, once again, would take the form of one Leonard Oaksworth, the rather bookish-looking Slytherin who enjoyed verbose language and sweater vests. They’d travelled together to the school the year prior, why not force the elder snake to endure his presence once again.

Nicholas opened the carriage, catching sight of two of his other tent-mates, Selwyn and Seto, as he did so. A veritable reunion, albeit one for a group that had separated not a few hours prior.

Shooting a glance to the group assembled, then back to the corridor, Nicholas would find himself entering in the midst of conversation. Seto was speaking as to sorting at the exact moment that Nicholas opened the door.

“Oh, shite, sorry, you don’t mind do you?” The question was rhetorical, for the Gryffindor was already in the process of entering and closing the compartment door.

It was an interesting group, and without the semi-uncomfortable presence of Marshal and Evelynn, he found himself grinning beside himself. It was a wolfish smirk, predatory and full of teeth, but certainly not hostile. Some degree of guilt lingered over the incident that had taken place a few days prior, but for the most part, he considered his reading of Marshal’s poetry a rousing success. Decipio had started their feud, after all, Nicholas had merely broadened its horizons.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Nicholas grinned at Leonard, utterly oblivious to any inner turmoil the older boy may have been facing.

In due course, he found himself slumping and lounging in a chair, “For the record, Gryffindor is the best house. Just putting it out there, y’know.”

@Seven Corigault-Seto, @June Selwyn & @Leonard Oaksworth

June smiled as Leonard Oaksworth entered the carriage. Again, it hadn't been so long between when she last saw him and now, but something about his presence brought a sense of calm to June Selwyn. He seemed to be a kindred spirit, a beacon of reprieve and, dare June think it, someone June looked up to a bit. "Wonderful for you to join us, Leonard Oaksworth!" She gave a curt nod and a smile as he slipped into the small compartment.

"Really?" June quipped as the upperclassman recalled his train travels. "I'd never ridden on a train before, but I suppose I was too excited to arrive at Hogwarts to be nervous about the train itself.." And to be fair, June thought to herself, she did sleep for most of the ride, which didn't leave her much room to take in her surroundings either.

She watched the landscape outside begin to peel away from the window as the train's pace began to quicken. Her heartbeat seemed to fall in time with the chugging of the train, the beat slowly accelerating with each passing moment. Thankfully, before she was pulled into a frenzy of frantic "what-if"s and "dear Merlin what am I doing with myself"s, Seven pulled her back into reality with a question.

"Me? Oh, I'm in Slytherin, Maggie is as well." June thought for a moment, recounting the members of their summer camp tent. "I believe that's all of our tent-mates who are in our house, unless I've somehow forgotten one..."

Speaking of tent-mates, the door slid open to reveal one Nicholas McCowan. "Not at all! Come in, come in." June slid over on the bench to make space for him. "Seven here was just asking me how I like being in my house." She pursed her lips for a moment in thought. She wasn't even so sure her house had affected her schooling experience so far. "It's alright, I suppose. The people can be nice enough if you find the right ones to be around, but that might just be the case everywhere."

June felt a strange push in her mind, urging her to share a bit more intimately. She glanced around nervously, did she really want to show doubt in front of these people she didn't know all that well? But the push grew stronger, and June gave in. "Honestly, I often wonder why I was put in Slytherin in the first place. I've made some good friends there, though, and I suppose the common room is quite pretty..." While the admission might have seemed incredibly boring and basic to some, to June it was as if she was letting herself bleed for all to see. She always was striving to squash any outward expression of doubt or indecision or im-perfectness, and yet she felt strangely calm after saying her thoughts aloud.

Nicholas brought an air of house competition with his words, which June quickly perked up at, thankful for the change in subject. "The best house, hmm? And what makes you say that?"