Chapter two Train Rail to Hell
'All I need is the air I breathe and a place to rest my head."
-One Republic
The entire trip was indescribably difficult; horrendously difficult. I sat closest to the window in high hopes of easing my misery. It was not to be. I was shut in the same compartment with four impossibly enthusiastic people who would not shut up about what lay at the end of the train trip.
"I heard there's a giant squid in the lake!" My twin's excited voice penetrated through the fuzzy wave of nausea that was threatening to overcome me.
I had to fight it. Throwing up in the garbage can was okay, but throwing up in public places was not. I knew that. I had learnt my lesson from a family outing that my parents had once dressed me up and forced me to attend.
There were so many people that day. So many mingling bodies consorting, entwining and dancing around. I told them I had felt sick; that I wanted to go home. But they did not pay much attention to the white shade of my face that was slightly illuminated in yellow by the flickering lamps. They should have noticed my pale complexion, because my seven year old self chose the most inappropriate time to release all that tension.
While we walked around the carnival, with bewitched 'child-safe' brooms flying just inches above adult heads, anxiety built itself up in a pit at the bottom of the stomach while I was raging an internal battle against claustrophobia. I tried hard for the first entire two hours. I smiled. I 'enjoyed' the rides and 'eagerly' devoured various wizard confectionaries. By the end of the two hours I was getting tired, my brothers, thankfully were also tiring. I was almost at the night's end. Almost. Yet, Fate decided to play me a cruel hand. Just as we were leaving, a blonde man came with his wife and sleeping child in tow. My head was spinning. I only heard bits and pieces of the conversation, but I did know that whatever the blonde man said riled up my parents and angered my older brothers, whom had less self-control. My own self-control slipped for a fraction of a second while they were having their heated argument. But that little millisecond was all it took.
I vomited up all over the designer brand dress robe that Narcissa Malfoy was wearing.
And my parents never forced me to join them in any outings again.
For that notion, I am grateful, yet at the same time, a little sad. That one, small slip meant that for every succeeding monthly moon festival, my parents did not bother to wake me up from my afternoon nap early. Even just to say goodbye. They just left me to sleep in ignorance as they left to attend. The first time they did that, I remember waking up very scared. I thought they had abandoned me. A normal, rationally thinking mind would have known that normal parents don't abandon children in their own homes. But that evening, I felt so utterly helpless. Everything suddenly lost its colour and I was very aware that I was standing alone in an empty house. I really thought that everything was over.
There was one thing that saved my sanity that night. One small, insignificant thing.
A note.
Went to festival, will be back soon.
I still remember how tightly I held on to that note as I quietly began sobbing. After eating and brushing my teeth; all while the note was still firmly glued to my person, I went up to bed, clutched the note and cradled that hand against my chest. Will be back soon. They were coming back. I later recalled thinking. They were coming back. My world was still intact. My family was still there. I was not alone and most importantly; I still had this 'safe' place. This place; which housed familiar scents and familiar faces.
"And this is Tristan, my twin." The combined force of my brother's voice and the calling of my name jolted me from my reverie. My head snapped to look towards the people occupying the opposite seats.
"You don't look like twins!" said a blonde boy with baby blue eyes, whose name I did not bother to remember.
We're fraternal twins. Idiot. I said quietly in my head.
"We're fraternal twins!" My twin answered for us with a little more enthusiasm than necessary. "Isn't it cool?"
"Yeah, that's awesome!" the brunette beside the blonde said with a voice full of awe.
That exclamation was quickly followed by a lengthy discussion of the four Houses. I equally quickly turned my head towards the window and began to zone out. My eyes also began to loose focus and the landscape blurred into an abstract painting of vivid green shades.
When I woke up I felt a little better and spent the rest of the trip silently nibbling the snack that mom made for us and staring at the shapeless pieces of landscape. The scenery became darker and darker as the train approached Hogwarts.
When I first saw the castle, I thought it was threatening. I still do. That immense hulking figure loomed over the horizon and the great white moon behind it gave it an eerie glow. It reminded me of the written portraits of Azkaban prison. The solitary stone building was surrounded by a cold, unforgiving sea and the people inside; harsh, like they were carved from ice. The castle's glowing windows were like menacing yellow eyes; unblinking.
I was terrified and the suppressed waves of queasiness came back with a startling vengeance. Cold sweat began to drench my body as I numbly began walking towards the giant Grounds Keeper.
"Does your brother ever speak?" One of Percy's newly acquired friends said in a whisper and walked only metres behind me.
"I-I" I heard him pause and his heavy breathing as he stopped to think.
"Um… I dunno, I think he normally is just really quiet." He eventually replied, uncertainty evident in his voice.
"Is he impaired or something?" Questioned one of my brother's surrounding friends.
"He's probably just speech deficient!" said another, sending the little group into fits of laughter.
My brother recovered from his stiches first, like he had just remembered that the person they were poking fun at was his brother; his twin.
"Hey, be nice! He's my brother." Percy said, trying to sound firm, but laughter was making his voice waver.
I felt my face heat up and I wondered if it was actually possible of the human face to glow red with embarrassment. I can talk! I can! I…just don't want to… My line of thought ended there. I didn't know why I was so 'anti-social' as I once hear my father describe it. I wanted to have friends. To be circled by people who would trust you and in return, you could trust them. I wanted that, but every time I tried, I felt the words dieing before they escaped my lips. That probably wasn't helped by the fact that I was almost always with at least one of my charismatic brothers. Next to them, I felt dull in comparison. My quivering little light was always diminished by their glorious flames that could light up an entire room.
It was at time like this, when I thought of Mr. Willow, the eccentric book keeper and his haven of books. He had once told me this:
"The world is a place of harsh winds, Tristan and never-ending ocean. The people are like islands. Over time, some islands merge together and form bonds. Some are weak, some are strong. Some break within the first monsoon, some will stand for many millennia. And there are the special few that will evolve on their own and flourish like the world has never seen."
His speech had been flowery, but his message was simple and clear; I, Tristan was not alone because others did not like me, I was alone because I chose to stand alone. After realising that his talk had sounded a little corny, he scowled and lightly his me on the head and sent me to rearrange another bookshelf. With Mr. Willow's, twinkling eyes in my mind and his word in my ears, I stepped onto the boat.
I sailed away to the castle full of anxious anticipation and only a slight bit of dread.