Attire: Usual weekend kit: Slytherin pride, kilt, no shoes, wolf fang necklace, feathers in his braid.

Reducio

1 July 2023

Colin stood alone.

All his friends had separated and gone their ways. Clair had gone off with Belle and Josh. Lily had gone with her parents. AngelFyre had gone with Simon to meet their families. So had Rebecca and Luci and Tes. Loud cries of homecoming joy and hugs and kisses were everywhere to be seen, and slowly the platform cleared as kids got off the train and departed the station. Colin was confused. Where were his Ma and Da? Where was Seanmamó? Where was Ciarán? At the last, even the railway crew had shifted the train from the platform.

Colin wandered up and down the length of the platform. He couldn't find anyone. He hopped down onto the track, the warmth of the wooden sleeper under his bare feet a contrast to the cool stone pavement of the platform. He looked into both the tunnel portals. Nothing. No one. Was this even normal? He hopped back up onto the platform. He found the spot where he'd come through the pillar last September. Alone, even though Clair was with him. Liam had not been. That was when he'd gotten the letter telling him that his twin was dead.

Colin looked around in bewilderment. He walked along the platform slowly, looking down at his bare feet as they carried him along the stone pavements. The only creature around was Greebo, his cat. Colin sat down on his trunk, not quite sure what to do. Here he was in London, at the other end of Britain from his home. Yes, his family had a house in magical London, but Colin did not know the way. Greebo rubbed against his arm affectionately, purring. Colin scritched his black furred ears. Greebo looked up at Colin and blinked his eyes slowly. Colin returned the gesture.

Colin was used to being alone by now. Most of his old friends were gone, whether dead or disappeared he didn't know. Only Kim was left, really, and he hadn't seen much of the Gryffindor since Tai's birthday. Gem and Sage were nowhere to be seen. And Liam was gone. Colin let out a quiet groan. It only just now struck him, here in the solitude of Kings Cross, that Liam was dead now ten months.

It was just about here, where he had hesitated getting on the train in September. Here where an owl had dropped the letter in his hands. Here where the letter literally ripped his heart away from him. Such a cold letter. Clinical. A blackness came over Colin as the words filled his mind. Your brother, Liam McCoire, is dead.

Liam McCoire

Liam McCoire

Liam McCoire

Your brother, Liam

DEAD

Colin found himself in an ocean. All was darkness. The warm waves buffeted him and tossed him above the profound depths. There was no moon, no stars, no phosphorescence. There was only Colin naked in the bottomless water. And he was sinking, the waves washing over him. He cried out for help! To Clair! To AngelFyre! To his parents!

To Liam.

No answer came. No boat was on the water. No broom flew above. No bright light pierced the darkness.

Colin sank into the water. His cries no longer heard in the empty air. His body felt numb and refused to swim to the surface. He tumbled through the water alone. The water was oppressively warm and it pushed the air out of his lungs. Colin struggled weakly, until at last he gave up trying. Colin's brain became fuzzy and the sound of rushing waters filled his ears. His limp body sank forever.

Colin wondered if this is what it is like to die. If Liam felt this way when he died. If he still felt this way or if he felt something else. Colin wondered why he was still thinking. He wished he were actually dying. Then he could be with Liam for real. He observed. He knew his body was sinking into the depths. He could clearly see that his body was not moving. It was still. It was like his brother's body.

Still. Unmoving. Dead.

Colin felt something then. An unseen light, a spark felt within. Something not himself yet not the warm water either. It was not something in the empty ocean, nor something from above. It was a presence, familiar, beloved. It did not speak or even communicate with him. Yet Colin understood somehow what it wanted of him. He observed his body, still sinking. It really ought to be swimming, he thought. The presence seemed to strengthen him, and Colin felt now that the water was no longer oppressively warm.

Colin opened his eyes. He could not breathe! So he didn't bother. He swam! Direction was meaningless, he realised. There was only hence and thither. From within the water towards without the water. He swam faster, the presence still strengthebing him, and he felt his heart pounding! His chest burned and so did his arms and his legs and his shoulders! He knew where the air was and he struggled towards it!

"LIAM???"

Colin's pond scum green eyes opened into the light.

It was Kings Cross.

Liam wasn't there. And Colin was still alive.

"What---?"

A pair of hands clapped nearby. Greebo hissed, his ears flattening! Colin turned towards the sound. He knew no one was here on the platform! A figure stepped away from the shadows. A young man stepped towards him. Colin stroked Greebo. He knew who the man was. He hadn't seen him in years, not since he himself was ten and the elder was sixteen.

Hamish McCoire. If he was big as an ox when he was sixteen, he was huge as an oliphant now that he'd grown up! He was a beater for Ballycastle, and Luci was a big fan. His unruly short black hair crowned a menacing face. He didn't look any less a prat now than he seemed all those years ago when he initiated Colin and Liam into the local Band of Boys.

The young man sneered at Colin. The boy could feel the hatred, the disdain. Hamish's father hated Colin's father because he became clan chief after his Uncle Colin died. Hamish hated Colin because his father hated Colin. Colin felt afraid. He had no idea what Hamish was doing here or why he had come for Colin.

"Ye were aye sech a weak little girl Colin. Yer mind always floating away. Were you dreaming of that mudblood little bitch of yours? What a dog! I know what you are! And ---"

Colin stood up quickly, drawing his wand from its sheath under his right sleeve. "Shut it Hamish! Say another word about Clair and I'll hurt you!" Greebo growled low and menacingly.

Hamish smirked. He drew his own. "Put up yer wee tadger, Colin. Fourteen inches of solid oak, lad. A'll crucio ye an brek yer wee half stauner afore ye can greet or groan. ⁽¹⁾" Just as suddenly, Hamish put up his own wand. "Whisht you. Get yer things, lad. I'm here to take ye home. Unless you want to spend the summer begging in London like some penniless muggle rubbish."

With that, Hamish turned to head towards the portal between the magical and the mundane. Colin let out a puff of breath. What choice did they have?

Put up yer wee tadger... Hamish is telling Colin to put his wand away, and that he'll break it faster than Colin can cry out.

@Clair Fernandez | @AngelFyre McCubbin