PV Stories between the Shelves

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Lingering in the midst of life and interaction alone is not for the weak. It takes courage to stand alone, chin held high, eyes looking forward with confidence. But what was the choice? Eat or be eaten. Stay alive and lonely, or drown in the agony of eternal wandering with no place to call home, decaying in despair without ever tasting what the world has to offer or the dreams it can grant. For a young, promising scholar, the choice was simple – there was no choice at all, only a silent determination to be great, to use the time given and become a name not to be forgotten. For what is an extraordinaire if not a wanderer and hermit, following rules written on their own parchment, conducting a symphony of their own – seen only once in centuries, but heard of, told in stories – a star that appears once, not a hero or a villain, simply someone whose footsteps are noticed.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ But for a while, while the vision remains sealed and the heart still obeys those who seem to own it, life is close to hopeless misery, a story that seems to lead to one ending – decay.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ A similar fate befell Sebastien. A little over a month and a half had passed since his arrival at Hogwarts, on that September day when he was sorted into his house and began his life in the unfamiliar and unsettling atmosphere of the old, eerie castle, where the whispers and shadows became even more distinct and louder than ever. Perhaps the walls had witnessed so much, had been inhabited by so many, that out of the countless things that passed through them like sly little fish through a net, some were actually caught, and now gave Sebastien headaches. The past month and a half had certainly weighed heavily on his psyche. He was not behind in his lessons – in fact, those were the least of his problems. The greater challenge in adjusting to the new environment was socialising and forming connections with the students and professors around him. He was not the most sociable child, not by choice, of course; perhaps he was simply perceived as lonely or different, which he had hoped would not happen – this was Hogwarts, he was a pure-blood, in a house of Slytherins that accepted people like him more than any other. Yet he still felt like an outcast, the sense of being an outsider catching up with him more than it ever had at home.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ While Hogwarts itself brought struggles to Sebastien, with its haunted walls and intimidating student body, it did provide a pleasant residence where, when he had the time to step away from the homework that first years had been flooded with during their first month, he could explore to his heart’s content. The library. For someone like him – a bookworm, a recluse – it was a haven, a place where he could wander for hours and still not discover everything that was possible. When he was younger, Sebastien would dream of reading every single book in the world. In hindsight, it was an awfully ambitious and exaggerated dream – certainly impossible – but although his expectations had lessened slightly, he remained determined to read as much as he could. As some were hungry for food, and others for pleasure or entertainment, the boy was hungry for knowledge. Whatever he could get, he would devour like a starving wolf enjoying its prey – mercilessly and greedily. He was not one to share.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ That evening, on the seventeenth of October, after dinner, he made his way out of the Great Hall, leaving the chatter of students and professors behind, and headed purposefully to the entrance of the library. Despite it not having been long since the start of his year at Hogwarts, the boy had already learned his way around the library. He did not think he spent much time there, though he might have underestimated how fond he was of books in contrast to people.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ As most were still eating dinner or making their way back to their dormitories given the late hour, the library was empty. Sebastien even wondered if the librarian was absent, perhaps away to eat as well. He did not dwell on it, instead taking the silence as a blessing to explore the secrets he had yet to discover in this place – a magical place at that – and to browse the shelves of books he had not yet read, a thought that filled him with excitement for the years ahead. Perhaps Hogwarts was not so bad after all.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ When he reached the fiction section, slipping into a narrow passage between wooden shelves filled with books, his senses gave way to a deeper instinct. His fingers trailed along the spines of the books as he walked down the aisle, his light brows unconsciously furrowed in concentration as he read the titles in the dim torchlight set around the walls. Time slipped away, and at some point he lost track of how long he had been there: ten minutes? An hour? It might have been an eternity, as he was absorbed in the hundreds of stories resting on the shelves at his fingertips, waiting to be read, to be noticed, to be lived. That was why the Slytherin found himself slightly startled when a figure appeared in the gap between the shelves where he walked.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Another student, a boy who looked about Sebastien’s age and height – which was unusual, as Sebastien was used to standing out in crowds due to his gangly build – stood at the end of the shelves. The unfamiliar boy wore a white, embroidered sweater over a brown shirt, making it impossible for Sebastien to tell which house he belonged to.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ At first sight, once Sebastien’s initial shock faded and he was sure the boy was not likely to cause trouble, he returned to browsing books. One that had caught his attention was already in his hand, and he had begun reading the first few pages. However, as the boy on his right did not move, Sebastien turned to face him again and spoke quietly, in case the librarian or their assistants were nearby:
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “Are you lost? Why are you staring?” he asked – not the most gracious or polite way to phrase it, but he was tired and his mind was foggy, or perhaps he had simply forgotten what it was like to initiate a conversation; it had been so long since he had done so. It felt as though, after a month of solitude and mostly being alone – apart from the occasional exchange with professors about homework – he had been completely removed from the human world, and now, unexpectedly, was thrust back into it, surprisingly, on his own terms.

dialogue ; #0a0a07 / #807a60 word count ; 1128/200 mention ; @Clark Stellan