The Philosophy of Loneliness

Disclaimer: All HP characters and world not mine.. My chars are mine, but I doubt anyone cares.

Warnings: Slash, AU, OC.

Chapter 1

Draco sat in the Quidditch locker rooms staring at the leering skull tattooed on his upper forearm. He had been dreaming about blood and power ever since he had got it. He missed his old dreams, the ones where he was on his broom going around in circles, huge, endless, confusing circles in a strange city that he somehow knew. Even that was better than killing wild-faced Muggles and enraged wizards, feeling that odd, unpleasant rush of power... He was quite sure that these dreams were not really dreams at all; they were memories. Voldemort's. The Dark Lord was forcing his own memories as propaganda, as some glorification of the life he was offering. Draco's mouth twisted up crookedly, bitterly, and he ripped himself away from his musings and put his clean shirt on. It was almost time for dinner and he still had to talk to his team.

Dumbledore looked at the warmly dressed young man in front of him and tried coming up with a suitable expression for the situation. He knew very well what lie behind the youth's ordinary-looking grey eyes. At the outer corner of each eye there was a small tattoo of a rune formation; a simple one for transfiguration. The aforementioned eyelids blinked once during the professor's scrutiny, concealing a blank expression for a moment and revealing it again. Dumbledore's look continuously changed from pity, to consolation, to polite distance all through their short conversation. The boy's hadn't changed once.

"Where is Olafur?" he asked. His voice was quiet and measured, his speech tinted by a foreign accent.

"The infirmary," answered the headmaster, finally settling on the weary empathetic expression, which felt most at home on the youth's features. "Madam Pomfrey will be done with him soon and you can see him. We will then sort you two into houses for the rest of the year, and you will act as normal students in the school."

"This is unnecessary. You know that it's different where we come from, we are home schooled - "

"Edelsteinn," Dumbledore sighed sadly, "I'm afraid that in light of the circumstances, you have no choice. If you live under the Ministry's jurisdiction, you must follow the laws and go to Hogwarts like all other wizards your age. I will do all that is in my power to help you afterwards, seeing as none of your family's property could be saved."

"It's better off that way." Edelsteinn was fiddling with his fingernails, keeping his numb eyes staring somewhere between the edge of the desk and Dumbledore's hands folded on it.

"Tell me, Edelsteinn, do you happen to remember the ingredients?" The professor raised an eyebrow carefully.

"No. Please don't ask me about it. Olafur was more involved with potion making than me, and I doubt even he wants to remember the ingredients of that cursed thing. Can we at least not be separated into houses? It is such a primitive and shallow..."

"I am not interested in your critique of our system, Mr Baldursson. You may go and inform your friend now. I wish you luck. Please come to me if any trouble or questions arise."

Edelsteinn was not in the mood for talking, but Dumbledore could not hold it against him, he'd looked into the boy's memories and seen what had happened in their house.

Edelsteinn stood up, bowed stiffly, and walked out.

"Good evening," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying over the Great Hall.

"Why is the Sorting Hat here?" Ron whispered.

"Shhh!" Hermione scolded firmly pressing a finger to her lips.

"And those two guys standing -" Ron went on, unable to contain himself.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed and gestured with her head to the teachers' table, where Dumbledore was waiting patiently.

Other similar conversations slowly dimmed into quiet, and the headmaster continued, "Dear students, there are a few matters I would like to address tonight. First and foremost, we have the Quidditch match dates now. They will be hanging on announcement boards in your common rooms, I trust the captains to look into them and plan their practices accordingly. The season opens in two weeks' time!" The students replied with excited clapping, whistling and shouting. They'd been waiting longer than usual that year, and the teams were getting restless. "Secondly, there are two new students joining us this year. They will be studying in the seventh year and will be sorted into houses right now, while everyone is present. Please welcome Baldur Edelsteinn Bladursson and Olafur Sigurdsson from Iceland." He paused while applause scattered briefly throughout the hall. "Boys, will you please step up to the Sorting Hat?"

Harry watched as the first boy, an airy-featured, long-haired blond, walked over to the chair with a straight face and picked up the worn hat with some light distaste. He then sat down, stiffly, back upright and legs pressed together, as though abiding some code of conduct, and placed the hat on his head. The hat mused for some short moments, and then, oddly and to the whole table's surprise, shouted out, "Gryffindor!" This seemed to mean nothing to the new house member, who got up in the same fashion, handed the hat over to his friend, and froze a few feet from him, either unwilling or unknowing where he was supposed to go next. The second boy was of unremarkable appearance, aside for being very tall and very thin. He plopped down on the chair, somehow landing his bony behind as softly as a ballerina, and put the hat on. This time the Sorting Hat seemed to have its work cut out for it. It contemplated for a rather long time, during which the boy under it tried looking straight up into the headgear with some absentminded gloating expression. Like he was challenging it. Harry became quite curious of the debate that must have been going on in there. In a way, it reminded him of his own sorting experience. He was ready to put his money on either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, judging by the stranger's odd demeanour, but before he decided which would suit him more, the hat blurted out, "Slytherin!" This young man, too, seemed untouched by his sorting. He simply shrugged his shoulders, picked up the chair with the hat on it, and carried it somewhere out of view, then reported by his companion's side and stood still. It seemed strange that he did not levitate it or used some other kind of magic. Harry thought maybe he'd come from a Muggle family or something.

"Gryffindors, Slytherins, please welcome your new members," Dumbledore said, and began clapping his hands. Ron, as a true patriot of his house, stood up and motioned to the blond to come to their table. The rest soon joined his clapping, and started shaking the newcomer's hand, introducing each other. Harry stood up and shook his hand, too; the new boy's fingers were long and pale and very cold; apparently his stiffness was due to nerves. "Harry Potter," he said, smiling warmly.

"Edelsteinn Baldursson." The boy nodded lengthily, his featherlight hair gently mimicking him.

"Welcome to our school," Hermione added excitedly, "I hope we help you feel at home."

Edelsteinn found a seat at the edge of the bench across from Ron, who went into a detailed survey of the Quidditch teams at school, and did Edelsteinn play Quidditch, by any chance, because they were going to have tryouts soon. But the Icelander was not listening at all. As Harry followed his eyes, he saw his friend, Olafur, being accepted at the Slytherin table, shaking hands with a contentedly smirking Draco Malfoy. Olafur himself didn't look overly excited about his reception. He had a small, humble smile on his thin lips, which did not reach his eyes.

"Were you good friends?" Harry asked over a sudden, still looking back at the Slytherins.

"We still are," Edelsteinn said, a sort of panicky hardness in his voice.

"I mean... it's a pity you're not going to see each other very often," Harry explained himself uncomfortably. "Our houses are in opposite sides of the castle, and we are not exactly at peace with one another."

The boy was clearly anxious about that very possibility. "Well, your enmities are none of my business," he declared, "and if I want to see Ola, I will. I don't care what people say."

Harry nodded. He was, quite frankly, touched to the very bone. It was brave and noble of him to stand up to his friend like that, even though he was a Slytherin. That was probably what had got him into Gryffindor in the first place. But he was wondering whether those feelings were mutual, since the hat placed the other boy in the house of the deceitful and cunning.

"You must be a master at runes, Edelsteinn!" Hermione forced herself into the conversation, leaning over Harry's plate to get a clear view of him. "I read that it is the preferred type of magic in the north, especially Iceland," she explained to Ron. "They hardly even use wands there, is that true?"

Edelsteinn seemed uncomfortable with all the attention. Harry noticed with some amusement how his long swan neck retreated into his torso like a turtle's. "It is, I guess," the boy answered quietly, "poorer people don't even have wands. Ola only got his three years ago."

"But I never knew that you tattooed the runes on your body," Hermione went on, looking at his face as though examining some disease, "what does it do?"

"Oh, did it hurt?" Ron interfered.

"It's a transfiguration rune. It hurt a lot."

"What is that strange structure you used there - ?"

"Why don't I explain this to you when we are alone, I don't think everyone here is interested in this," Edelsteinn cut her off hurriedly.

"Ha ha!" Ron exclaimed, then burst into real laughter."I love this guy! I love him!" He leaned over the table to pat him on the shoulder chummily. "Say, Edelsteinn, so do you play Quidditch up there? Isn't it a little cold to be up on your broom for hours?"

Edelsteinn shrugged mutely, then came up with, "We don't really have brooms..."

"What?" Ron stared at him, wide-eyed. "So how do you fly?"

"We use a Russian equivalent of your broom. It's called a stupa – a mortar. It's like a... big wooden mortar you climb into and row with a pestle."

"Big wooden mortar! Row with a pestle!" Ron and the other boys breathed out in outrage. Harry couldn't imagine having the freedom and lightness of a broom inside a big wooden trash can. "So you never flew a broom?"

"It's too cold most of the time..." Edelsteinn shrugged apologetically. "And the mortar covers distances very fast, it's much better transportation."

"We have to teach you!" Ron banged his fist down on the table.

"Yeah, you're missing out on so much," Harry agreed. "And... invite your friend over, too," he added as an afterthought. "We can probably do it during the weekend, right?"

"But homework..." Hermione whispered to no one in particular.

"Really?" Edelsteinn's face lit up, and Harry was quite sure that it wasn't the brooms that excited him. "Thank you so much!"

When dinner was over and all the students started filing out of the Hall, Edelsteinn stalled in the corridor just outside the wide double doors. He asked for directions to the Gryffindor tower, but after several attempts to explain, Harry said he'd just stay waiting for him up the stairs to their left. Edelsteinn remained standing alone in the torchlight, hands crossed over chest and deep shadows playing over his face. When he finally caught sight of Olafur coming out, walking by some blond boy who was talking about something with an elevated smirk, he hurried over and called his friend to come away with him.

"I'll catch up with you," Olafur said to his new acquaintance, and strolled off with Edelsteinn, an odd, solemn smile stretched on his thin lips. They walked a little in silence, Edelsteinn keeping as close as possible, and Olafur still smiling as though in a dream. They found a more or less empty area, a columned patio in a grassy inner courtyard. A small square of star-lit sky could be seen over the high walls and towers of the castle.

"So..." Edelsteinn muttered.

"We'll be fine." Ola offered his simple, all-knowing smile, and Edelsteinn was a little relieved. "I saw they were really friendly with you there. And I'm not doing so bad, either."

"What are they like?" Edelsteinn muttered quietly, huddling closer to Olafur and tentatively placing his head on his chest.

"Conceited, power-grubbing noble kids," Ola snickered, hands resting casually on Edelsteinn's back. "It's almost funny, you know, had you grown up here you might have ended up just like them. Thank the gods you didn't. When they heard that I was your servant their faces went so green I was sure they were going to vomit. I'm going to be conveniently cast out," he concluded with a smile in his voice. He started rocking back and forth absentmindedly, soothing the stiff, nervous body in his arms.

Edelsteinn reveled in their closeness, in Ola's voice reverberating through his chest and into his head, almost like telepathy. Ola, while not being the epitome of good looks, had so many tiny charming things about him, that he ended up the world's most beautiful human being in Edelsteinn's eyes. They hadn't had any chance to be close like that since they'd arrived in England and the authorities assailed them, and the reunion was absolute bliss.

"But you were talking to that boy..."

"Malfoy, yes. He's alright. He's their leader or something, the most pureblooded and power-grubbing, but somehow, when you get him alone, he's alright. It doesn't really matter, because we are going to see each other all the time. We have a few lessons together, and then we have all the time after that."

"And Ron, that's the redhead from my table, he wants to teach me how to fly a broom over the weekend. And Harry, that's Harry Potter, he invited you to come along. Isn't that nice of them?"

"Yes. And very optimistic, considering that Malfoy told me that we are never going to see each other because our houses are rivals and the Gryffindors are going to convince you to hate me because I am in Slytherin."

"Strange, that's what they said to me about you..." Edelsteinn laughed quietly. "I miss you when you're away," he whispered into the dusty black sweater Ola always wore.

"Me too. But we will see each other, and this is just for a year, and then we are free and safe, here. It's better like this, to be far from home, to forget what happened there. I've been looking into forgetfulness spells lately..."

"That is horrible!" Edelsteinn pulled away from him in shock, his fair eyebrows knitted rebukingly. "We can't forget our families! It's not decent. It's not respectful. How could we just let them disappear like they'd never even existed?"

"I was just pondering," Ola shrugged his wide frame around his friend. He was not alarmed by Edelsteinn's reprimanding tones, he was practically expecting it. He knew how important such things were to him. Edelsteinn was so attached. "But sometimes it hurts too much. It makes all this seem so... unreal in its adolescent simplicity that it becomes pure absurdness. Makes me feel like we were supposed to die with them. Maybe I wouldn't have felt this out of place..."

"Umm... Edelsteinn?" A confused voice echoed coarsely from the arch they'd come from. "I was just wondering... because... you know... you were taking so long..."

Edelsteinn jumped out of Ola's embrace as though he'd been sprayed with a boiling potion. "Ja!" he exclaimed importantly. "Yes, yes! You are right, Harry Potter! I will go right now!"

Ola, rather than becoming sheepish, started laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach. He had a deep, reverberating laugh, and it echoed between the castle walls and evaporated upwards. Harry smiled, too. Funny jumpy fellow, that Edelsteinn.

Ola walked over to Harry, shook his hand, introduced himself. "Excuse Edelsteinn, he's always nervous in new surroundings. It's quite adorable." He threw a warm smile in the boy's direction. "And we are not used to having so many people around. Well... I guess I should get going, too. I'll see you on the weekend." At that he returned to Edelsteinn, placed a comically careful kiss on the top of his head, and slouched away on his long legs. Harry was sure that, had there been any light around but the stars, he would have seen Edelsteinn red as a crab.

"No Quidditch!" Ron shouted hysterically. All heads in the common room turned to him, alarmed. "How can you live with no Quidditch!"

Edelsteinn braced himself for yet another explanation about the oddity of his life. Harry smirked; this was almost getting old, but just almost. Edelsteinn's neurotic disposition never once that evening failed to provide him with entertainment. "We live in secluded places, far from one another," the Icelandic boy explained patiently. "There are never enough people to play games like that. And playing that in a stupa would be not comfortable, don't you think? I know the game generally, but I never played it. Or saw anyone else. My father used to go to league games in Reykjavík when I was very little, but he never took me with. Not that I would have remembered, anyway. Where am I going to sleep?"

Hermione snickered as he childishly, unsuccessfully stifled a yawn.

"I agree," Harry slipped in, "it's late. I think I'll go to bed, too. Our dorms are upstairs, come on. A bed appeared there just after dinner, I'm guessing it's for you." Edelsteinn sighed, relieved, and stood up from the big red armchair he was occupying the whole evening.

"You're very close with Olaf, aren't you?" Harry asked carefully as he lead up the stairs.

"Yes. We grew up together."

"So you don't think that being in Slytherin would change him?"

Edelsteinn laughed shortly. "You don't know Ola. He has a very independent mind. Has his own opinion on everything."

"Just... I saw him talking to Malfoy. Malfoy is bad news."

"Strange, Ola said that he was the only normal person there."

"Well, excuse me if I don't trust his judgment then." Harry shook his head disgustedly. "We should try getting him as far away from the Slytherins as possible if you don't want Malfoy turning him into another lackey."

"What's a lackey?"

"There's your bed there," Harry pointed. "A lackey is a servant."

Edelsteinn laughed. "Well then, that is not a problem, Ola has been a servant his whole life."

"What?" Harry turned abruptly round, his pajama top dropping from his hand.

"We grew up together because he was a servant of my family."

"Wizards serving wizards? What about house-elves?"

"They don't live in our climate. Ola's family has served mine for many generations. Ola's been my personal "lackey", as you call it, my whole life. We are best friends."

Harry frowned in concentration, trying to put the idea of servitude and friendship under the same roof with the matter-of-fact intonation Edelsteinn had just used. Somehow, it wasn't working out. And the way he'd found the two implied something more than a friendship. At first he thought he'd just chanced on a couple in the middle of a makeout session, and he only recognized the long-haired figure as Edelsteinn when he heard him speak.

"Well... good night then."

"Good night."