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

Whether they truly were similar or different Matthew couldn't help but find a fondness to be sharing a moment with a fellow Scot. Often times when he spoke to students of Hogwarts they struggled to understand his accent and he felt alienated despite being in his own country but with Archer they fell into the natural rhythmic pattern of the Celtic tones. Perhaps it was silly to be pointing out every small positive in their interaction but if it kept the carriage from turning to a suffocating trap of silence he was prepared to create a list.

"Home of the fairies eh, can't say I would've expected that. Your mum sounds lovely." There was a stilted break in his voice that disappeared as quickly as it arrived and instantly got replaced by a kind smile that didn't quite meet the eyes. Diverting from the self perceived awkwardness of the moment and his own storm of sadness he spoke jovially as a means of distraction to himself or perhaps to Archer, he wasn't sure, "Tha beagan Gàidhlig agam." The Gaelic sounded unrefined but came out fairy fluid, "My dad taught me a little." As with every mention of his father Matthew's face brightened taking on a soft glow and the looming shadow of his grief was fought down under paternal love.

Listening patiently Matthew focused on the intent behind Archer's words rather than what he said. It was something his father had mentioned to him, often in life people forget to listen to their heart. Nothing about his admission spoke of untruthfulness and although the words used could have been perceived as Archer placing the blame for their miscommunication on him he heard the reality behind them. They had both participated in creating the chasm and if they were to build a bridge each side would need to reach out and if snacks were to be the first plank it would be a strong foundation.

With guilt creeping into his voice causing a stutter before he spoke he took a deep sigh and said, "Perhaps you are right." Pausing to allow the boy to revel in the moment but only for a moment he continued, "I am too quick to defence and last year that broke any hope of a friendship between us, I'm sorry for my part in it, but I think you're right about us having more in common. Honestly it's nice just to speak to someone who doesn't have to wince at understanding the accent. I don't mean for this to come out wrong so please don't take it that way but it's nice to not have to try so hard with you. Like, because we've already argued so much I don't feel like I need to try to impress you. Does that make any sense? I guess I'm just saying you're easier to talk to than I would have thought." The more he spoke the more his confidence waned but the revelation didn't spur him to panic like it would with anyone else. Somehow he knew that if anyone could Archer would understand.

With the surprise arrival of a new feline friend he couldn't help feel the slight pangs of jealousy. Money like most things separated him from a portion of the world. Just another way in which he was different and maybe Matthew would always be different, his father had never been rich and never would be at least not in material wealth. It didn't matter to him except that sometimes he supposed it did, Matthew could never be angry at him for choosing passion over money but he had a hard enough time fitting in without having clothes that had been handsewn back to life. No matter the amount of times it hurt him when people mocked him for it he always came back to the same answer; His dad may not provide them with money but there are far more valuable things and of those his father had riches beyond imagination.

Realising he had lost himself completely in thought over the furry legged friend he shook his head out and returned to the world once more. "No apology necessary any creature that can cause thee Archer Duncan to actually, genuinely laugh is more than welcome in my presence." With a quirked eyebrow he watched the rigid heir relax into the presence of the smaller being and for a second he almost considered that Archer really was a real boy. With a slight devilish twinge to his smile he asked a question that perhaps was too personal but relationships were built on mutual understanding and if he was going to discover boundaries it might as well be through failure. "Im curious Archer, why the formality? I wouldn't think being raised by an explorer you would require such manners. I must insist for at least my sake that you drop the master, I can assure you I am no master of anything. Oh and on the subject of names I suppose I should apologise once more for calling you Archie. I could tell it bothered you and I did it anyways and that's not the person I want to be. So if it must be Master Duncan I will be sure to bow as deeply as possible." Finalising his question he did just that bowing with terribly little grace.

As for their furry friend Matthew sought deeply to pet the creature but had retracted his hand along with the thought as quick as it had come. The boy had no experiences with pets and Archer was a private individual so as much as he wanted the opportunity he would just have to hope that with each plank it would bring him close enough to be afforded such luxuries. One by one they would build a bridge and one day without truly knowing they would have to step forward onto it hoping, trusting that it was strong enough to carry their weight.

The brunet beamed at the Fairy Glen of his home, and what a blessed home it was, first Arcadia and now faerie. “Thank you, and a great many fairies we have indeed, I would hope,” he said, tone jesting as he still remained oblivious to the strained smile Matthew offered.

Archer’s face visibly lit up at Matthew’s affirmation after his worryingly deep sigh and he nodded in eagerness for him to continue, finding any connection between them with an insatiable hunger. As he was about to assure Matthew he had every reason to have been defensive, considering how offensive he had come off as, but his next words caught him off guard. Perhaps something as shallow as bluffs in effort to impress was below them after their rocky history of disagreements. Oddly enough it was through such disagreements that Archer seemed to have understood Matthew’s character, the practical excursions Maman had spoken of in comparison to theoretical discussion. It had proven both to be more human than their counterparts once imagined. “I understand,” he said, then struggled to find words to express his own thoughts, finally satisfying on a metaphor when nothing else came to him, “I am glad that every time I speak with you I do not feel like I am playing a game of chess I can only win by flipping over the board anymore. That’s not a move I can play even if I have the ability to.” While Matthew might have had faith in his understanding, shreds of uncertainty tainted at his smile.

Said uncertainty melted away at Campbell’s comment. “I know how to laugh, Matthew. In fact you just might be the cause of it this time,” he reminded the boy as Archer demonstrated the remarkable activity once more, though his features changed sharply at the following question. “A mannerism of mine, I suppose,” the Scot answered hastily and thoughtlessly to cover up any silence that would soon follow. The true reason was layered to say the least, but of course, the boy had been correct: Archer had never required such manners having been raised by an explorer. This air of restrained decorum had only come into play when he had become a student of Hogwarts on top of Marguerite’s son. It was as of much a guise as a boasting bravado, an extra wall of security he had built around himself upon having entered an environment as foreign as a castle crammed with his peers, meant to entail enough aloofness to draw attention away from vulnerability. For this, however, he attributes to his mother who had taught him to value logistics over gut in an expedition: between primness and nonchalance, he found the former to be the safer bet. One simply can't go wrong with it. Except for Campbell of course, always the nonconformist well-armed with sarcasm, it seemed. “You,” Archer added, pointing at him with raised brows he tried to channel some of his mother’s good-natured wittiness, “Are a master at making me feel uncomfortable, Matthew.” Expression set into seriousness, he brought the topic to an end, “While I understand your curiosity means no harm, I would appreciate it if we leave this subject in the past where it belongs. I don’t really mind how I am addressed, but I can readily drop the title for you.”

Archer watched him as Zeno edged tentatively towards Matthew, sniffed, then growled loudly as if he was about to attack the Snake. Wondrous, even the feline disapproved of the unlikely friendship they were striving for. Clearing his throat as he beckoned the cat back into his arms, Archer said with a vague wave of the hand as Zeno wedged into his free arm, “You must forgive his shyness around strangers. We adopted him, and old habits die hard.” He paused, pondering whose habits he had applied the phrase to. Shaking off the contemplation, he stroked Zeno’s head, a subconscious tendency he had developed from days sat reading with Scout. As the tabby let out an agitated meow, he frowned and reassured him while pointing to the person in question, “He, good sir, is our friend.” While his voice took on the coaxing manner it often possessed conversing with pets, his mind was elsewhere as he mulled over his word choice in a bout of overthinking. Friend, an odd term considering how their last interaction had just ended in the duo almost at each other’s throats. Today though, the association left him with the oddest warm feeling in his heart. Archer wasn’t sure if he had spoken the word for solely the benefit of Zeno, or if vocalising the relationship they were aspiring to achieve would define it on the horizon, a blueprint for the bridge in construction. What he knew: engineering was a more complicated subject than Archer had first expected.

@Matthew Campbell

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

Despite it being the first time he had ever heard it, Archer Duncan's laugh might have been one of Mathew's most favourite things about him. It brought a sense of life and a childlike quality that he had never seen in the heir bef0re, humanising to a person Matthew had once thought a monster. Had he really once thought that? He supposed it was true and yet the thought still concerned him as he immediately tried to push it away. Whatever had once been, this new Archer was much preferred. With every word they seemed, closer, friendlier and despite the trepidation Matthew was fairly sure he liked this new development, no screw that he was sure he did.

Ironically there was something very familiar to Matthew about Zeno's defensiveness that only endeared the furball to him further. It brought a smile to his face when Archer explained the feline's history that would have remained placated on his face had Archer's next words not thrown him through a loop. Graceful that Archer's sight was firmly placed on the cat during the moment he pondered over the implications. Friends had been such a challenge for the boy last year and as much as he wanted to enjoy that the word had so casually slipped from his once enemies mouth it hurt to think of the reality of his second year. Matthew would make more friends this year he was sure, but he would never get Rowan back. Just as he had been all through his life he was left alone once more.

In that sombre moment it clicked to the young boy though that instead of wallowing in the pain of the moment he could instead choose to carpe diem and make use of the opportunity Archer had just afforded him. A lump forming in his throat he bent down while remaining back not to frighten Zeno but allowing him to be on level with him. Allowing hope to glisten in his brown eyes and a rosy complexion to stain his cheeks he said, "I hope we can all be friends together." Despite his attention being squarely on the fluffy creature it was not lost that the implication was yet another plank in the bridge of their relationship. An offer started by Archer had been gladly accepted.

Leaning back up he nibbled on a Malteser scrapping off all the chocolate before devouring the honeycomb as he always had. Warmer in the newfound peace of the carriage he pondered for a second on whether he wanted to speak the thoughts that were on his mind. Last year he would have never considered being so open with the snake that sat across from him but friendship was more than just a word and if he was going to commit to it he had to mean it. Slowly he found the words and looked longingly over at the pair across from him, "You know Zeno kind of reminds me of myself. I would do anything to protect my dad too, only difference is I was far more aggressive in my approach whenever strangers came along. Until Sean that is, that's my other dad!" In the moment he said it despite the calculated choice he still winced internally, hoping that pureblood conservative views didn't also mean regular conservative views.

Perhaps this was the moment they had been waiting for. Was the metaphorical fuse about to light and take the entire train out with them or would it be another step in their foundation. Only time could tell where their friendship would lead and how many defining moments the pair would have but something told him that this was not their end. Perhaps it was his laugh. Matthew hoped it was his laugh.

@Archer Duncan

“I hope so too,” Archer said, voice wistful. Watching as Zeno meowed loudly before tentatively stretching out a paw towards Matthew’s lowered figure, he let him go as the tabby inched its way towards his new friend. He found himself jealous of the cat, how easy it was for creature and man to resolve the initial bumps along their relationship. His bonds had always seemed to have happened in the least expecting circumstances for Archer, from the lost girl he met in the Scottish mountains who grew to be a friend and colleague and to the Hufflepuff he saw dancing at midnight, to the Frenchman he was first acquainted with after a book signing… and now Zeno, whom he had met one fateful late night in a Canadian alleyway he had never expected himself to be in. Often he found a little faith in the other was all required to complete the potion of camaraderie, just as he knew Charlotte was not a murderer or Zeno would not have attacked him. Similarly, despite the tension they had begun their interaction with, it would only do them worse to think the conversation was moving in a negative direction. If Zeno and him could have enjoyed such a miraculous friendship, it was best to believe so could Matthew and him.

He would do anything to protect his dad, just as Archer would do anything to protect his family: human instincts that reminded him to consider each other as such. Smiling at Matthew’s comparison he said, “If you’re open to sharing I’d love to hear more about your family. I think your fathers raised you well…” He trailed off in reluctance, wondering if he should delve into the subject even he said was in the past. Taking a moment to replay all the way they had come, from the first day when he had returned amiability with fear-induced prejudice, to their hope-filled and hope-swiftly-shattered meeting in the Rehearsal Room. Archer was grateful for Matthew’s forgiving nature, for what he first thought would be a suffocating ride had somehow turned into the blossoming of a new friendship he had always hoped for. Instead replacing his words with a vague statement though by no means taking away the genuineness behind them, he said, eyes reflecting the warmth illuminating their once cold compartment, “Into a very kind person, I appreciate that.”

Archer paused, then placed his finger on what he had always wanted to ask. A tune, not solely circling in his mind for its beautiful melody and lyrics but, for better or worse, due to the strong memory he still associated it with. Willing all the casualness he could muster into his voice, he asked, “Can you share that song with me again? From - oh when was it - last November?”

@Matthew Campbell

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

The question hung in the air dryly absorbing all the warmth they had fostered around him. It was a pleasant one for most and despite his albeit overly kind remarks given their history Matthew knew that Archer had meant no malice in it. If anything all that displayed in his genuine eyes was simple curiosity. Yet still his throat dried with the words and his own eyes that had taken a friendly disposition begun to resist a stinging pain of defiant tears. Luckily before a breath could be drawn the boy before him casually asked another momentarily allowing him to gather his own emotions and bundle them back up.

Somewhat stumbling over his words but desperate to fill the silence he spoke tongue over mind, "'Our Song', by Elton John. At least I assume that's the one you meant I suppose I sung a few that day. I played it as they walked down the aisle at their wedding. I think all music has magic in it, muggle or not. Music conjures emotion in a way magic can't even." Unlike previous attempts at these statements there was no defensiveness in his explanation simply his own opinion. Rather he hoped Archer would recognise as such but wouldn't attempt to force him to for they had tried that path and failed before.

Then timidly in voice and retrieving his mothers ring tight within his grasp from under his shirt he spoke unable to hold eye contact lost in thought, "I love Sean but he didn't raise me, truthfully they've only know each other a few years. It was just me and dad before that, eh Patrick my other dad, it was his birthday that day in November. I was hoping to send him some kind of howler for it but apparently they can only be used with aggression. Stupid if you ask me." Chuckling softly more to himself than Archer he hoped his lack of comprehension for the wizarding world wasn't still so cavernous. It was likely such a device did exist and he was simply to inexperienced to know but still the young snake tried not to dwell and continued on.

The longer he spoke the more the elephant in the carriage grew. Matthew had long since known it was impossible to avoid the inevitable question forever but he would do his darndest to delay it as long as possible. "It's always just been me and Dad, he's the kind of man I'd like to be. Always sees the beauty in everything and even when we had nothing he would always help if he could. Dad's an artist but he's only recently gotten to get back to it professionally because he had to work a lot to keep our flat. I don't know who I'd be without him but if I can be half the man he is I'd be lucky." Tears welled and fell as he spoke but the smile never wavered. Pure adoration was in ever droplet, Patrick was his hero undoubtedly and in permanence.

For most 12 year old kid boys emotions were awful, particularly when on show in front of a crowd but when it came to Matthew he had been taught to express himself. Likely from his fathers artistic traits he had always wore his emotion on his sleeves and mostly bar from anger it had never served him wrong. So still holding the ring though less of a grip and more gentle he met Archer's eyes with a proud smile. "I would like to be kind. I think you are and do to. I guess first impressions really can be completely off!" Then pondering more deeply on the alternative ways that day could have gone he asked, "What were you doing there that day anyways, do you play?"

Interacting with @Archer Duncan

Perhaps Matthew was expecting a contradiction like he might have defended months before, but there was nothing other than agreement as Archer spoke. “Yes, yes you are absolutely right. After all they deem music as the ‘universal language’, it must transcend all the borders we attempt to erect with art. I feel like we put up so many walls - take… blood status for example - that is complete unnecessary and unhelpful. When empathy fails music brings people together.” He swallowed, for the topic still felt like a sore one was it left his mouth. But he supposed that if magic divided and music healed, the latter was indeed much, much more powerful than the former, for both wixen and Muggles. Last time song had failed to salvage their swiftly growing aversion, but today was a hopeful day. “I have never properly heard the lyrics, but it is very meaningful you played it at their wedding. It must be very important to your fathers and I think you are very talented at your craft.” As Matthew’s voice grew soft, the fellow Snake too quieted and listened.

“People are always the most beautiful artworks, aren’t they?” Archer said finally as Matthew finished his uninterrupted monologue. He might not have known Patrick Campbell but he sounded like exactly the kind of person one should look up to. A hardworking and caring man but more so a loving father was truly enough to make tears fall. He felt incredibly privileged to be blessed with family as nurturing as his. A child’s appreciation of their parents, so bluntly worded as Matthew had done, was an odd thing in the world, and for whatever reason Archer could not comprehend. Was there anything more beautiful?

First impression really could be completely off. Kindness was a difficult word to define, but it was not a difficult thing to be. Amiability, generosity, consideration, were all words belonging in the particular quality, but dictionaries had never defined the actions to carry out. He would strive to make life easier for others, to put a smile on their faces when others needed it the most, to be all of those things listed for him: amiable, generous, considerate. To be kind was a very noble pursuit and knowing Matthew, even the person he had wronged, saw him as kind brought warmness to his heart.

“Painfully badly. My mother does though.” With a small but wistful smile he continued, “We’ve always talked about her teaching me, but we never got around to it I suppose. Apparently I just never had the patience to train my muscle memory in that way, but now that I am going away to boarding school again there isn’t really an opportunity.” Archer had always yearned to play the notes as beautiful as his mother, but his fingers always proved to be stubbornly clumsy, refusing to grace the keys in a rhythm as beautiful as Marguerite’s. His hands stumbled and banged down on the delicate instrument and moved far too slowly to keep up pace. Rather than painting the beautiful pictures his mother did with music, his were mere noise in comparison, but as long as he could listen to Maman’s he was content. The tune, despite never managing to learn its name, would stay in his mind forever.

There were a lot of things Archer wished to talk about; after all this boy was still new to him. Beyond their brief and bitter introductions there was so much more to know about him. With excitement in his voice despite the simple nature of the question he asked, “So have you joined any sports or societies? Or have you got anything interesting planned for this year?”

@Matthew Campbell

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

Archer was so much lighter than he had ever seen him when the topic of parents had finally settled on his mother. Speaking wistfully he seemed to be envisioning times spent together with her by the piano much like he did with his own father. It was clear that with fresh perspectives the boys shared far more similarities than differences and his heart lurched with the bitter disappointment that they hadn't been able to see it before now. Zeno clearly agreed as the comforting lull of his voice made the cat wind between his legs looking up at him with an adoration not typical from most feline's he had met.

Unwilling to lose spotlight on the new light Archer shone in under her memory he asked the boy, "What is her favourite piece to play, or style? I imagine she has heard all kinds of music from her travels, she sounds wonderful Archer." For a second Matthew almost offered an olive branch to assist him in learning the instrument but what if this was all a fluke and they never saw each other again. What if he was misjudging simple pleasantries for actual interest. No it was better to just keep the conversation light, jovial and take it from there. Still Matthew found himself wondering what it would be like to share the rehearsal room with him once more, a place they had corrupted with hate now reborn in light. Better to leave it up to fate than intervene.

Seemingly Archer agreed with this idea without the need for him to voice it as he began to shift the conversation off to the future, a place free from their misdeeds. Whatever reason the boy had made the change mattered little for Matthew actually had plenty to say and far too excitably he begun spooking the cat who turned its head towards him in reprimand for his overt display of ecstasy, "Well actually I received a letter informing me that this year I am going to be starting as A Viper. In truth I thought it was a joke at first but I confirmed with Tristan and it turns out I'm in. I really just hope they're not bigoted you know how Slytherin can be-" Winching as soon as the words had fallen out from his brain he quickly stumbled to apologise- "Sorry Archer you know I wasn't implying you right and I'm sure it's not all of them I mean Illowy Magnard was great to me last year I just, I can't say I've had a whole lot of positive experiences is all. Sorry." The last word exhaled with a defeated sigh.

Noticing the boys discomfort Zeno seemed to recognise familiarly he moved his precious cosy fur to nuzzle into Matthew's side jumping up on the seat causing him to smile a little. "It seems like you chose a really great cat Archer, I wish I'd been as good a judge of character as him last year. But you're right that we should leave all that in the past. It's just that it's not all past for me, I deal with it most days at school, you just happened to be one of the first." The sombre atmosphere broke him. He didn't want to start the year this way, he didn't want to continue their relationship with it as an anchor weighing them down and he didn't want to let opinions of ignorant people matter. "Please just tell me you have some fun things planned too so we can kill the awkwardness, maybe open a window too to be safe." Attempting a joke may have been pathetic but at least it was something.

Interacting with @Archer Duncan

“She always plays three pieces for me, but all at once. They are three wildly different pieces — the first is idyllic, I think, the second grows more chaotic, and I’ve heard the third being described as a fish flopping on the keyboard.” Chucking a little at the humorous description he paused as he thought Matthew must have been inquiring for a title, “She never told me what they were called. They’re Muggle pieces I think classical music I suppose. I don’t think she knows what they were called herself, and she plays so many things from all around the world that I can’t keep track of which style she enjoys most.” Marguerite had always been the kind of person to do whatever she liked and her eccentric variety of tastes of course extended to hers in music. That was one thing Archer loved most about her, how she brought him to its of the wider world and encouraged him to go see it in its entirety someday himself. When the conversation turned to the person he admired most in the world hethought he could go on for hours on end, but moving on he listened intently to Matthew’s newest position.

“Congratulations!” Archer felicitated with a genuinely wide smile. The two broom sports had never interested him, and he would reluctantly admit it was attributed to his still persisting acrophobia, but duelling was an activity he had always watched from the sidelines, spectating matches as often he could while wishing he could stand atop the piste one day in their glorious place. What made Matthew more competent than him he didn’t know, though he knew better than to ruin what they had so carefully built up upon cracked foundations. Bitterness was an odd emotion but refusing to allow that bring down his mood he was about to continue with pleasantries as Matthew cut both him and himself off with an unexpected apology. “It’s fine,” he said, though his voice was wary afraid they had reached another obstacle just when everything seemed to be going so smoothly, “I had not taken offence. I’m sorry you didn’t have the best experience. I think it’s admirable that you’re here despite…” he waved his hand in a vague gesture “… it all.” Then changing the conversation with unnatural speed and enthusiasm that felt forced, “I have been accepted to the headliner team. Seems like we both have exciting things to look forward to!”

“Oh…” Archers throat felt dry despite Zeno’s valiant attempts to rub away the palpable tension. “I’m so sorry-” he offered his condolences before wondering when their relationship will finally surpass the constant apologies of past wrongdoings. “You weren’t a bad judge of character… I mean… I don’t know.” Archer was not one to normally feel tongue tied, while more timid than his mother he was smooth talking enough like his father, but come this subject he felt too much of a horrible person to speak. For all he knew Matthew had probably judged his character perfectly, too ignorant and scared that he wouldn’t even reach for water if the world was burning. Finally finding something to say he did so eagerly, relieved to at least feel as if he could douse some of the prejudice, though he knew it would have been truthfully just brushing dust off a mountain, “If there’s anything I could do to help please just tell me.” He felt like he especially owed it to the boy after having been the perpetrator of the first.

“I don’t. I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting company-” he turned himself around as quickly as Matthew had done his, “Not that such company comes unwelcome though, I’m simply unprepared.” An awkward smile was the most Archer could offer an expectant Matthew as his eyes were drawn to his satchel. “Unless you would mind I was originally planning to read for most of this journey. I suggest we each do our own thing and talk when something interesting comes to one of our minds?” Reaching over to the can of… crisps?… Archer said with a smile hopeful for both easing the strain and for the snack, “I think I have grown quite fond of this, hopefully it’s fine I have some more?”

@Matthew Campbell