CHAPTER 2
The beast is long and scarlet, a most magnificent structure I've ever seen. Draco is beside me, ushering me away from the wall we've just literally walked through. I push my trolley in the directions he points me as he follows. I've got a large trunk filled with my clothes (including my Hogwarts robes and uniform), my not-so-average school supplies (including a cauldron, a stack of odd textbooks about casting spells and brewing potions, and quills and ink—they don't use pens and pencils there), and even my brand new wand, which, I admit, is quite excellent. It's long and sleek, made with one strand of a unicorn tail and birch wood. There's even an intricate design along the handle that resembles more of a serpent than anything. Draco's already warned me about being extra careful with my wand—it's my most prized possession in the wizarding world, and, without it, I'm not able to do magic.
Along with my trunk is a cage, a big, fat, brown toad sitting contently inside, grunting. I've decided to call him Bursty because every time his esophagus bloats, he looks as if he's about to burst. I've never had a pet before, and when Draco said I'd need an animal to accompany me on my school journey, I couldn't help but get a tiny bit excited. It was a hard decision to make between an owl, a cat, and a toad, but I finally settled on Bursty, who looked rather interesting. I can't wait to conjure a tank and water for him when I get to school with my new wand.
Also, while we were in the magic village, Diagon Alley, Draco bought me my very own broomstick—the greatest broomstick on the market, apparently. The Sunstorm 6000, it's called, and it's slim and red with tinges of orange. I was amazed with all of the things Draco was buying me, especially the broomstick, but apparently he's so filthy rich that it didn't even hurt him to buy all of my school supplies, all in prime condition and untouched. Must be nice for that Scorpius to have a wealthy father at hand. I wouldn't put it past him to be a spoiled brat.
"Now, you're going to take your luggage over there where they're loading everyone's things," Draco says, pointing ahead. "You'll board the train, then, and it'll be a while before you arrive at the school. Once you're there, you will ride the boats with the first years, however you will be arriving in your sixth year, as you are sixteen years old. You must understand that this is highly unusual for Hogwarts to accept a student so late in their years. As a matter of fact, I'm not so sure it's ever been done in Hogwarts history."
"And it's all because you didn't want me running into your other kid," I sneer, rolling my eyes. I know I should be more appreciative because of all of the new things Draco's bought for me with money out of his pocket, but the fact that he deliberately stayed out of my life because I wasn't the child he actually wanted still takes over my emotions and makes me angry again. I fail to understand what kind of father does that to his son, wanted or not.
Draco frowns, but shame crosses his face again. He sighs heavily and places a hand on my shoulder.
"I don't expect you to ever forgive me, Aiden, but I plead that you do. It would mean the world to me, your forgiveness. It's a lot to ask, but you must know that I've always loved you, and that I'm amazed at the striking young man you've become. Sure, your act could be cleaned up a bit, but I take full responsibility for your miseries. I killed me inside to see you so solemn so often."
I look away from him, glaring stubbornly out at the distance. My eyes inadvertently catch the sight of a tall blonde boy, my ages, so it seems, chatting with a tall darker-skinned boy, again, my age. My gut twists when I see the clear resemblances between the blonde boy and Draco. I gulp and struggle to look away, but I can't help but feel utter hatred for him. I wish him dead, I wish him out of existence, but only because he's Draco's first son. I wish this because I know I'm the other son, not he.
"Is that him?" I say softly through my teeth, my upper lip curling into another sneer. Draco tears his gaze from me to the blonde boy. "Is that your son?"
"Yes," Draco says firmly with a nod. "However, he's only one of them. You are my son too."
"Yet you are too ashamed of me to even mention my existence to your family. Leave Mum and I broken while you play house with your lovely wife and son sure sounds fair."
"Look." Draco places both hands on my shoulders, gripping them tightly and looking into my eyes, his grey eyes mirroring my narrowed ones. "I made a mistake, and I'm paying for them inside. There's no reason they need to pay for my mistakes as well. I love you and your mother, you must realize that."
I sigh, but continue to glare at him. Draco sighs as well and removes his hands from me.
"Listen. Now when you arrive at the castle, you are going to be Sorted into a House. Professor McGonagall is going to explain all about that when you arrive. You may feel a little out of place because you will be going through the process an eleven-year-old wizard normally goes through, but you will continue with sixth year courses. I've arranged extra study time with your teachers so you can learn the basics of wielding magic." He smiled a small smile before pulling me into a hug. I was both shocked and disgusted with this motion, but I didn't struggle to get out of his embrace. As he let go of me, he patted my back. "Well, I must see Scorpius off. You will do well, Aiden, I know you will. You are an excellent boy and are quite clever. Your knowledge of magic will soon rise to a modern sixth year's in no time.
"And, Aiden?" he asks as he begins to back away. "Don't tell anyone about me or Scorpius. No one knows you are related to me, other than the staff, but they are sworn to secrecy, so they won't be a problem. Rumors spread fast in that castle. Be wary and keep it secret."
I almost don't agree, but I do as I reluctantly nod. His smile grows, but remains sad, and he turns his back on me, strolling towards his son. A blonde woman comes into view and she beams at his arrival. She pecks him on the lips and my stomach curls. I feel sick all over again. She must be Draco's wife, Astoria. She's nowhere near as beautiful as my mother. She's too tall and too thin with a stern face and slanted eyes. But the real reason why I don't like her is because she's chosen over my mother. Just like Scorpius is chosen over me.
Draco looks so happy with his family and doesn't once look back at me again. He's too absorbed with his wife and son to bid me goodbye one last time with eye contact. Glaring, I storm off towards the luggage area and leave my belongings there for the men loading the train to take care of it. Before I board, I turn back and, unwillingly, look at them. I don't know why I'm still looking at that disgustingly happy family, since it's hurting me, but I do it anyway.
And then I notice a woman and her daughter, glaring menacingly at the Malfoy family, with practically as much malice as I'm looking at them. I eye them strangely, wondering why they're looking at them in such a way. In a way I feel evil triumph when I see them, but I'm also taken aback. The woman is thin and pale and not quite so pretty, even less than Astoria Malfoy. Her hair is black and it slices at her jaw, a fringe cut horizontally across her forehead. Her lips are thin and her frail frame is dressed in a black dress that clings to her thin body. The daughter is, I suppose, prettier than the woman. Like her mother, her hair is dark—however not quite black, at least not yet—and possesses straight-across bangs as well. Her hair is very long, though, ending along her waist area. She's also short and very curvy, which is nice—I suppose. Both she and her mother have noses that are slightly upturned, which, in a weird kind of way, is sort of cute. And, just like the mother, the daughter is also draped in black clothing, including a black t-shirt dress, which appears hazardly torn, and black leggings.
Shaking my head, I leave the glaring to the odd pair and board the train. I push against kids of all ages, trying to find a compartment. Most seem filled, and I fear sharing one with people I don't know. I'm not exactly in the mood to sit with anybody at the moment.
I make my way towards the back of the train and, to my delight, find a completely bare compartment. I rush towards it and claim it as my own, shutting the sliding door behind me and slinking into the soft seats, sighing and trying to calm myself down from watching Draco and his happy family. But when I even think about forgetting about it, my stomach curls again and I feel like throwing up again. Instead I think about the school, wondering what a school of magic could be like.
But as I'm lost in thought, I suddenly hear a rapping on my window. I blink and look towards the door, a girl with long, dark, curly hair and large dark eyes. Her nose is too straight and I wonder if she's had work done to it. She's flashing me an excited pearly white smile, opening the door for herself.
"Why, hello!" she chimes, bubbly and giggly. I mentally groan. Exactly the type of girl I'm not interested in. I want her to leave already, but I don't want to be rude. I'm just not in the mood for any company at the moment, so her timing couldn't have been worse. "I don't recall seeing you here, which is strange because I know everybody at Hogwarts," she continues. "Who are you?"
"I'm Aiden. I'm a transfer," I answer. Her eyes bulge, if that's even possible. There already naturally the size of over-sized almonds.
"A transfer?" she repeats, baffled.
"Yeah," I mutter in return.
"Wow! A transfer student! Where do you come from? How old are you? Are you coming from another magic school?" She asks so many questions at once, I feel as if my head is about to burst, but at least it takes my mind off of Draco and his family.
"I'm sixteen," is all I can answer. I'm not quite in the mood to really go into detail about why I'm here. It would resort to me thinking about Draco.
"Sixteen? Oh wonderful! You must be a sixth year as well. I'm sixteen too," she says. "Listen, do you mind if I join you? I can't seem to find another empty compartment."
I want to say no. In fact, it's on the tip of my tongue and I'm completely ready to say it, because, first of all, this compartment was empty when she came, as I was already sitting here. I open my mouth and begin to explain how I'd rather keep the compartment to myself.
"Actually I—"
"Excellent! Thank you!" she exclaims, clapping her hands. I narrow my eyebrows as she leans out the door. "Duncan, over here!"
"Hey, I never said you could—"
"Hope you don't mind me bringing my friend here. Come, Duncan; I've found us a compartment."
I'm fuming inside because this stupid twit won't shut her fat mouth long enough to hear me out. I glare at her as she drags in a boy my age with dark hair and an athletic build. His eyes are large and golden brown and he's wearing a frown as his friend tugs him inside.
"Rowena, jeesh. Let go, why don't you?" he snaps at her. He looks at me before glancing back at her. "Oy, who's he?"
"This is Aiden," she introduces, flashing me another bright smile that is now repulsing me even further. "He's a transfer."
"A transfer? I wasn't aware Hogwarts accepted transfers," says the boy, eyeing me curiously.
"They don't," I snap, folding my arms across my chest. The boy is taken aback, but the girl continues grinning like I've said nothing rude.
"Anyway, Aiden, this is Duncan Bell. Oh! Silly me, I've forgotten to introduce myself." She clears her throat. "I am Rowena Vane, names after the founding mother of Ravenclaw House, Rowena Ravenclaw."
I stare at her monotonously, as if she's just asked me to answer a very difficult calculus problem.
"We're both in Gryffindor," Rowena continues, ignoring my gaze. "Gryffindor is the best House. The famous Harry Potter was place in our House back when he was in school twenty-six years ago."
None of this is sounding remotely familiar. What was a House? What was a Gryffindor? And who was Harry Potter? If I didn't know him, he wasn't all that famous.
But I did remember that these kids lived in the wizarding world. Harry Potter must have been a celebrity in the wizarding world, therefore, of course I wouldn't know who he was.
Rowena continues babbling nonsense as I try to ignore their presence, but I can't help but look back at them every few minutes. Rowena's of average height and has a relatively curvy figure, though it's not nearly as curvy as the girl I saw glaring at my father and his family. She's dressed in a green and pink argyle sweater and is sporting a black pleated skirt that ends mid-thigh, displaying most of her tan, long legs. Her hair bounces about her shoulders—I get an urge to just reach over and pull one of those springy curls.
Duncan is much taller than Rowena, perhaps my height. His athletic formed is compressed in regular jeans and a plain t-shirt, like I am. His dark hair sweeps over his golden eyes and his face is plastered with a bored expression, again, like me. Rowena obviously bothers me, but Duncan I think I can handle, however I want them both gone right now.
"I hope you'll get into Gryffindor," Rowena says, my attention—for some reason—snapping back to her voice. "Then you can join Dun and me. That would be nice, don't you think? What school did you say you were from? I bet it wasn't as good as ours. That's why you're switching, isn't it? I tend to be right about a lot of the things I guess. It must be some intuitive member in my mind."
I glance at Duncan, who gives me a sympathetic look, as if to say he's sorry his friend is being so annoying. I tune her out again and gaze out the window of the compartment door.
Suddenly, a group of girls pass, and—I'm not going to lie—they're all very attractive. One is tall and has such a tremendously curved figure, I feel like drooling. She's blonde with natural curls long enough to frame her well-developed chest. Her eyes are green and her wine-colored lips are pulled into a wide seductive smile when she looks at me. Her torso is pressed into a black, lacey, low-cut blouse that shows me her cleavage, and a small black skirt to match.
The second girl is just as gorgeous. She's not nearly as tall as the first, perhaps a couple inches shorter, and has pin-straight blonde hair that slices at her collarbone. There is a chocolate brown tone underneath her hair, and streaking through her side-swept bangs. She, too, has a massively curved figure, with strongly seductive brown eyes and full red lips. Her figure is molded into a tight, long-sleeved, wide-neck dress that clings to her figure.
And then the third, I now realize, is that girl I saw outside the train. She looks so out of place with her punk rock attire compared to the other girls, who are dressed as floozies, despite their alluring appearances. They all eye me curiously before walking away, the last girl keeping her eyes connected to mine longer than the other two.
