CL The Late Bird Catches, Well, A Train... Ask

The start of the train sent a jolt of something through Hui Ming. An hard-to-parse feeling. Nervousness and fear and resignation and excitement and grim determination all rolled up into a ball of mishy-mushy, iggly-wiggly emotions that Ming preferred not to engage with a 10-foot-pole.

Instead, he turned over the page of the book he was currently reading. “The Life of Pi” was not exactly the glorious read that his parents would be proud of his showing off to the world, but his tutors had said that he had fallen behind on his literature and arts over his year at Hogwarts, and had assigned him fiction and non-fiction reading so that he could remain properly sharp to appear for the Ordinary Level Examinations sometime the year after next. The book was an interesting read, and the almost-teen Slytherin boy did not begrudge his tutors the homework. After all, they did only have him for two months a year to compress an entire year’s worth of learning.

Just as he was buckling in for what he was hoping could be a quiet and uneventful train ride, the cabin door opened, and a new face walked in.

Ming raised his eyes from his book to look over the new entrant. Ming’s clothes were custom-made, a plain gray shirt and deep green pants; but the quality of the fabric obvious to the scrutinizing eye speaking of his background without feeling the need to shout money to the heavens up high. The Chinese boy, similarly, had good posture from years of strict discipline, and held himself in a manner that made his station obvious to those around him. This boy who had just entered had not had any of that. He was just another of the many nameless kids without the breeding to hold on to decorum in polite company.

Normally, the Chinese boy would turn down such company, it always caused him more trouble than he had had the patience to deal with. But then again, this boy had been polite enough, and had not immediately offended too many of Ming’s own sensibilities. And Ming had been trying to be less of an outsider in this school that he called his. Perhaps this would be a good chance to do just that?

After a moment that had perhaps stretched on too long, Hui Ming blinked and broke away from his visual assessment of this new interloper. Instead he tilted his head to the seats opposite him.

“Go ahead, then.” They were small blunt words, but they were spoken with perfect enunciation that just screamed ‘new money’ or ‘posh Londoner’. Not that Ming himself had noticed this last bit of information he had given out about himself, having instead returned to the book he was reading. He was already a quarter of the way through it. Perhaps he could finish it before they reached the school and mass insanity set in?

There was a stretch of silence which lingered following his question, during which time Sebastian gulped back his nerves and eyed the rest of the cabin. He spotted the book the other boy was reading, as well as his fancy clothes. By comparison his own were remarkably unremarkable. The collar of a plain linen shirt peeked out over an earthen-toned jumper, hand-knitted by his mother, and his trousers were simple khakis, beige. He liked to call them his adventuring trousers, because they reminded him of Indiana Jones or perhaps O'Connell from The Mummy.

You know, the Archaeological tomb raiding type. Something Sebastian could only dream of aspiring toward, if only for the sense of mystery and wonder.

Despite this everything but his boots were remarkably clean. Mother had made a point of keeping him away from any form of muck as they left their little bed and breakfast that morning in preparation for his journey to Scotland. His boots, however, suffered the effects of the English weather; mud marred them from the drizzle of rain they'd experienced earlier.

He felt all too aware of that fact when he took another step into the room at the older boy's urging. Was it strange to remove your boots when you entered a train cabin? Probably. He wished he'd kicked them on the platform a little before boarding, the way they'd kick their boots by the backdoor after coming in from the homestead fields.

"Uh, thanks," he responded, with a flash of a sheepish smile. He found a seat across from the other boy, though not directly facing him, and turned to peer out of the window as the station began to drift by and out of view. There was a certain tension intermixed with the silence of the cabin that could easily have been cut with a knife.

Sebastian chewed on the inside of his lip, tore his gaze from the window to glance up around the cabin to the trunk holders up high, and then stood back up to heft his own up over his seat. He paused part way through though, spying the book the other boy was reading, and none too quietly set the trunk down onto his seat instead.

After a few moments of rummaging he pulled out a book of his own. It wasn't a particularly thick book, in fact it was rather slim, but he didn't care. He set it down, then closed the trunk and once again hefted it up. As much as a workout as it ought to have been, Sebastian didn't seem to struggle too much with it. He was used to manual labour, after all.

Once he'd found his seat again, he took up the book and opened the well-worn pages to the first chapter. He didn't immediately read it though, instead opting to peek over the cover to take a look at the older boy.

"I've never read that one" he remarked, trying to disperse the uncomfortable atmosphere, "Is it good?" For his own part, Sebastian was thumbing through an old copy of The Magician's Nephew by C.S.Lewis. It wasn't his favourite of the Narnia books, but he enjoyed it all the same.

And where else to start but at the very beginning?

@Hui Ming | @Callista Lovis

Ming raised an eyebrow at the boy who removed his boots before entering the room. Biting back snarky comment that came to mind though, the Slytherin turned his gaze back to his book; but failed to direct his focus to the words on the page – he was simply too aware of the boy who, for some reason simply could not sit still.

The smallest shake of his head, and Ming forced himself to back to his reading. But he had hardly managed to get to the end of the page when a sound of something heavy interrupted him. Again.

Heavens!

Internally cursing his spur of the moment decision to allow this unrefined interloper in his company, Ming made a mental note of the page he was on. Clearly, it was unlikely that he would be able to get any reading done in current company anyway.

As subtly as he was able, he flicked up his eyes to assess the other boy. What was so important that the boy felt the need to go rummaging for it as soon as their ride began? Surely, if it were truly important, he would have thought to have had it on his person.

Probably some trinket, or prank item that he wants to show off with the dismissive, pessimistic part of him replied. They always think that such childish trophies would make them stand in a more positive light with their fellow students.

To his surprise, the boy retrieved a book – battered, and likely second hand, but a book still. Perhaps they would be able to get through this journey without too much turmoil after all. With a little bit of hope, Ming returned to his book. Perhaps if he-

I've never read that one. Is it good?

Ming’s impassive face showed none of his mounting frustration as he looked up at the other boy. Dark eyes scoured with silent intensity, attempting to piece together enough about the boy from the visual clues he’d left.

It was obvious that the boy had not had an education on propriety, just as it was clear that he did not come from money and grew up with several siblings. The boy had a loud and abrasive body language, but Ming could appreciate that he was at least trying to be respectful.

For a moment, his eyes flicked onto the cover of the battered book his travel companion had been pretending to read – Lewis. A writer Ming’s tutors had told him not to pursue after having completed Voyage almost a year and a half prior now. It was a testament to how fantastical his life had become that the books no longer felt fantastical to him, but childish.

A blink – the boy had asked him a question had he not?

“I can see why people would want me to read it,” Ming replied carefully. Most of his study material was carefully curated, and he had learnt long ago that it was best to not show his tendency to overanalyze his readings. Especially with strangers. “Its narrative voice is quite engaging.”

A tilt of his head, a moment of consideration.

“What about your book?” Perhaps it was best to turn the tables and focus on the other boy. It would make all this much less awkward. “You must have read it a few times by now, from the looks of it.”

⠀

┏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀┓ date | 09.01.22 [10:59] dialogue | #5e638d ┗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀┛ Reducio @Sebastian Sorrel @Hui Ming

Callista was never late.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Callista was rarely late, if at all. It just feels so inconsiderate and haphazard to show up late to anything, be it a class, an event, or just the bus. So when she found herself leaping for the train just a minute before it left, barely pulling Sachiko on with her, she was absolutely mortified.

She was, by nature, an early riser. On a normal day, she was up and about at 6:30. Sometimes, she was even up at 5:30─those were her favourite mornings; she got to have some time to herself, flipping through the thin pages of a well-loved book as the sun slowly rose over the horizon, casting its peachy orange light over the summer grass. The birds would come out to play, and if she paid close attention, she could pick out the sounds of finches and the occasional flutter of wings as they flitted from branch to branch.

However, this morning was not at all a normal one. The story, if it is to be called one, must begin on the night of August 31st. The summer had been a long one, especially since she hadn't gone to summer camp this year. It had been filled with long, drowsy days filled with dragonflies and sunshine, and although Callista occasionally missed Hogwarts, she couldn't help but feel eight nine again, running through the grassy hills with her sister, although of course, Aurora was older now, no longer the kid in Reception that she knew.

Needless to say, the night before her return to school was filled with mixed emotions and thoughts. Aurora was 10, now, and she only had one more year before she could attend Hogwarts herself. It made Callista feel incredibly old. Her baby sister was almost 11! Of course, there was also the usual back-to-school nerves─what if her already few friends had found new people over the summer and didn't want to hang out with her anymore? What if the classes this year are really difficult and she won't be able to keep up? What if the teachers were really mean?

In the back of her mind, an uncomfortable thought lingered. It dwelled in her brain, turning over and over and running into her other thoughts like a pill bug on the loose. When it ran into her walls, bright green sparks flew, as bright as Lumos and as dangerous as Incendio. Eventually, it creeped out from the shadows, unfurling to reveal eyes as dark as the shadows that plagued her nightmares.

I should quit-

Again, Callista shoved it back, burying it deep within the recesses of her mind. She could think about these things tomorrow, or next week, or next month. The night was for sleeping, not obsessing over unlikely possibilities.

But when she checked the clock again, it was already past midnight.

The next morning, everyone was so used to her being the first one up that Callista wasn't shaken awake until 8:40, and the morning was a mad scramble to get dressed, finish up some last-minute packing, and eat breakfast while still making it out the house on time. She didn't live near London, and it would take them a while to get there.

Piling into the car at 9:37, Callista was convinced that her dad broke every speed limit trying to get his daughter to the train in time. Sachiko was not happy in her cage, which only added to everyone's panic. So there she was, three minutes before the train left, charging through the magic wall, giving her family quick hugs, and drinking in their presence one last time.

"Don't forget to write to us!"

"I love you!"

"Hurry on, you'll miss the train!"

After frantic waving, Callista leapt for train, landing... less than solidly. Guilty and embarrassed, the now third year dashed through the hallway. Almost all of the rooms were filled, which was to be expected, and she was becoming increasingly more anxious about where she would sit. Surely there's at least one compartment that had room for her?

She streaked past the full compartments of students happily chattering away, oblivious to her consternation. She also skipped the ones that had their curtains drawn─she didn't have the guts or time to peek in. After what felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes, she finally found a compartment with only two people in it. She didn't recognize either of them, but that's okay; it was a miracle she found a semi-empty one.

Hesitating for just a second, Callista knocked gently on the door before pulling it open. "Um, hi, sorry to interrupt... could I sit here?"

A knock on the door, and a new figure made her appearance – this one though, was someone Ming knew. Callista Lovis, a member of the Hufflepuff dueling team. There was no need for a deep appraisal of her clothes and demeanour like he had the other boy – Ming had in-depth notes on her; much like he had notes on all people who frequented the Hogwarts dueling circuit. He knew all about her – the spells she was likely to draw, the partners she was comfortable with, her tendency to grip her wand in a certain way.

But then, he knew nothing about her. Her hopes and aspirations and desires were unknown to him. Unlike his dueling contemporaries in Ravenclaw, she could not be dueling just for the pleasure of solving a puzzle. Were the reasons of his fellow Slytherins – paranoia, ambition, drive – any better?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

“It appears that we’re graced with the lovely presence of Miss Lovis.” The second year tilted his head, hints of amusement coloring his voice. “Dear me, it appears that this is going to be quite a lively little train journey.”

“Be welcome then, Miss, to my humble little carriage.” A small pause. “Do you require help with your baggage?”

⠀

┏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀┓ date | 09.01.22 dialogue | #5e638d ┗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀┛ Reducio @Fang Hui-Ming @Sebastian Sorrel

Calli would be lying if she said that she wasn't momentarily flustered when one of the boys in the compartment greeted her by name. She certainly didn't know his name, and it wasn't like she was anywhere near famous enough for this to be a common occurrence.

“Be welcome then, Miss, to my humble little carriage.”

"Um, thank you?" Quite self-assured, wasn't he? But then again, Hogwarts was filled with all kinds of different people; it was a breeding ground for the misfits, the orphaned, and the outcasts, so maybe she shouldn't have been so surprised. By the look of his clothes, it was obvious he was well-off, and his elocution screamed posh and rich. Oh no, I hope he isn't too condescending.

On closer inspection, Callista realized that she did, in fact, recognize him. He was one of Slytherin's duellists, but they had never actually had a match together. He wasn't in her year, either, since she was pretty certain she knew all of the third year duellists. And what was his name again..?

Before, she could wring the answer out of her memory, the boy spoke again. “Do you require help with your baggage?”

"Ah, no, thank you; I can manage." The swift response was mostly instinctive, but surely, it couldn't be that difficult. Her luggage wasn't that heavy. Either way, by the looks of him, Calli was fairly certain that it was only a polite gesture. But with that question, she was all of sudden doubtful of her own capabilities.

After a second of hesitation, she decided it would be safer not to rely on her physical capabilities lest she fumble and make a complete fool of herself. She withdrew her wand and, with a murmur, flicked it with practiced confidence. "Wingardium leviosa." Her incantation was a tiny bit shaky, no doubt from the pressure of performing in a position where she was sure to be scrutinized for any error, but her luggage floated up to the rack without a hitch.

With her luggage safely taken care of (and a quiet sigh of relief released), Calli was now faced with consternation as to where to sit. The two boys were already on opposite benches, so she was being forced to choose between which boy to sit beside. After a cursory look at the other boy, who seemed much less intimidating, although awfully engrossed in his book, she decided she would be better off taking a seat next to him. This placed her directly across from the Slytherin boy, which she figured was good if they were going to be conversing.

Faced with such a boy such as this, Calli became uncomfortably self-aware of her own mannerisms. Thank goodness she had had the forethought to dress a bit nicer today. She glanced down briefly to check that her shirt was tucked into her pants (it was) and that her laces were tied (they were). She was running one of her best outfits since it was the first day of school. She had hoped to make a good impression on whomever she would no doubt meet, and now that she was taking a carriage instead of another harrowing trip across the lake, she was free to wear as she would like.

A perfect opportunity to thank the gods arose as the Slytherin's name suddenly popped into her head. "Ah, you're.. Mr. Fang Hui-Ming, right?" It felt strange to call a younger boy "Mr.," but since he addressed her as "Miss," it felt only appropriate. Besides, it was better to be over-formal than under-formal, right? As for the pronunciation of his name, Calli took care to say it to the best of her ability. It wasn't perfect, but it was passable. At risk of seeming like she was only searching for something to talk about (which she was, but that was besides the point), she ventured, "I'm sorry to interrupt your reading. May I ask what book that is?" She knew firsthand that attempting to take a peek at the book's title whilst it was already open would only be a failing effort, along with making her look like a fool.

Meanwhile, Callista desperately tried to reassure herself that he was definitely younger than her, he could not possibly harm her on the train, and she was quite capable of being respectable even if she didn't have the same "posh Londoner" accent.