Noel Snow
If you were like me, you'd have just as many questions about the world as I do. One I have been asking myself for quite some time now is this one: Do good and evil exist in this world plainly as white and black? The Bad, ruling over the darkness, bringing fear, sickness, and death, and separating loved ones - and the Good that is constantly and without tiring fighting against the Bad: reuniting loved ones, healing the sick, and ending wars? At first sight, I understand it might seem like a strange question for a child to ask themselves, but you have to understand: my life depends on it.
"Darling, are you sure you didn't forget anything?" my mother asked with a stern voice and an even sterner look.
"I told you already five times: yes," I replied, twisting my eyes.
"Well then," she sighed. "Don't forget to write us regularly. And write us immediately when it happens, you know -"
She continued, but I stopped listening. That was my hopelessly optimistic mother - although I'm not 100% certain I can call her that. Aurora and Carl Snow are the people that took me into their home eleven years ago, the people that took care of me as if I was their biological child. Alas, I'm not their child. I'm a guardian, the sky created me out of clouds, the wind, and sunlight, and since Christmas Eve of 1926, I have dwelled in this world.
Aurora believes that my person - the person I am supposed to protect - will become my partner, my wife, just as it happened to her with Carl. Any of my fears or thoughts that it might not be so simple, she brushes away without a care in the world. Of course, I am thankful for everything she has done for me. And I am grateful for her positivity and optimism (for I am greatly lacking in this department) in all regards, especially this one, mainly because I know I can't change who my person will be. On the other hand, I do believe it would be beneficial for me to be able to talk about my worries and fears.
My childhood so far has been wildly different from that of other children. That is already the main point - I don't know any other children. And until my Hogwarts Letter of Admission arrived, I didn't plan to change it. I was just about to write a formal letter of apology to Professor Dippet. I wanted to explain my situation to him, and that I appreciated them considering me as worthy of going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but that I couldn't possibly accept, and whether it was doable to transfer my spot to someone else who would actually be able to attend.
But then my mother saw what I was doing and held a 30-minute speech about how it was finally time for me to step out of my comfort zone and that she had done the same thing, and it had brought nothing but good things into her life. Arguing with her would have been pointless at this point, so I gritted my teeth and accepted her proposal I should try it until Christmas break, and if by that point I still didn't want to go, I could return home. No questions asked.
"Just think about it, honey," she had said, "how many people are there in England, and how many of those go to Hogwarts? Why should your person be one of them? And even if, why shouldn't you like them?"
So, I had torn the letter apart, and now I'm here. How I managed to go to Diagon Alley to buy a wand, get my robes fitted, and even get a pet owl (I named him Sherlock) gifted by Aurora, I can't tell. My brain was working in overdrive the entire time to prevent myself from having a panic attack. And now, as I was eyeing the red steam engine, I realized that the adventure truly had just begun. Children were running around. Parents were scurrying back and forth between the train and the platform, always finding something else their children had forgotten to pack. The air was filled with business and the steam of the engine.
"So it begins," I said to myself. Sherlock, sitting patiently in his cage stacked on top of my trunk, softly hooted as if to encourage me. I kept my head down to attract as little attention as possible. People were staring at me nonetheless.
"Have a safe journey, darling," Aurora said and gave me a goodbye kiss on my forehead. It's a bit weird, I couldn't help myself think, that someone you technically have nothing in common with can become so close to you and mean so much to you.
The doors of the Hogwarts Express flung open for me, and with it, the entries into a new era of my life. With shaking knees, I climbed the stairs into the carriage and turned around to receive my trunk and Sherlock's cage that Carl heaved up to me. I looked around, panting. I stood in a corridor with countless doors leading to countless compartments on the one side and even more windows on the other. With a small gasp, I realized that all seats were arranged in compartments as far as I could see. Single seats did not exist.
Never in my life have I talked to someone my age. In fact, my parents were the only people I ever spoke to. For the first few years of my life, Aurora was scared the neighboring kids would be cruel to me. Granted, I did look unhuman for the first few years of my life. My skin and hair were so white, and my eyes had a weird golden sheen that anyone with just a spark of intelligence would understand there was something more to me, something supernatural, something magical. So, my parents planted a magical hedgerow that made it impossible for anyone to peek through, making the garden of our little family home a safe space for me. Over the years, my skin became less translucent, my hair became golden, my eyes took on a light hazel shade, and my parents lost their overly protective attitude. But the damage was done; for now, it was me who didn't want to leave the house. Instead, I read all the books they brought me from the local library, and once I was through with them, I started teaching myself a variety of musical instruments.
I wandered through the carriage, feeling absolutely lost. I kept my gaze straight down (which, I admit, was not super helpful in finding an empty compartment) to avoid looking into anyone's eyes. Still, I could feel the eyes of all the people I came by glued onto me.
"Some people are so special that their looks already give it away. You're one of them," Aurora had always said.
To put it more bluntly, people think I'm a freak. And, to be frank, I can't blame them. Even though nothing about me screamed "otherworldly being" anymore, there was still this hint of etherealness, keeping me stuck forever in the uncanny valley of looking like a human being.
Without realizing it, I had walked to the end of the carriage. As if someone had heard my prayers, I found an empty compartment. The door slid open with a swift motion, and I quickly entered and sat down next to the window. I looked for my parents in the vast ocean of people on the platform, and by chance, I found them. I waved them goodbye as I heard a loud whistle and then felt the train finally, with a soft rumble, starting to move.
Maybe it was the uniform chugging sound of the train, the singing of the English countryside wind, or the fact that I hadn't slept the entire last week properly, but I became drowsy within the first hour of my journey. I took advantage of having the whole compartment to myself, laid down on the bench, and closed my eyes.
I knew it, even before I opened my eyes. The compartment wasn't mine alone anymore; there were multiple people in it. I could feel the tap-tap-tap of their shoes on the ground as they walked from one side of the compartment to the other, introducing themselves and making conversation. And I was amidst them, in a way at least, curled up on the bench in one corner of the compartment. I kept my eyes closed, pretending I was still asleep. But in the end, my curiosity won. I so wanted to know what those people that thought it would be a good idea to enter my compartment and then act like I didn't even exist looked like.
Just for one brief moment - I swear, it was so short that I didn't even see anything - I parted my lashes and was promptly forced to close them again due to the bright sunlight shining through the window.
"Hey!" someone shouted.
Oh, Merlin, I prayed. I hope this isn't directed towards me.
"We saw that you're awake!" someone else joined in and then, without warning, lunged at me and tickled me everywhere while screaming at the top of their lungs. Orange-scented hair found its way into my mouth, and I removed them from my face with a snort. A tiny hand touched my face, and not a second later, someone lay across me.
Now, I slowly opened my eyes. It was the first time I ever looked into the eyes of someone other than my parents. That realization hit me like a ton of bricks, but just as well did the wave of relief that nothing had happened doing so. None of these people here were my person, which made me immediately relax. The girl that attacked me had long, brown hair kept in tidy braids and green eyes. She returned to the seat next to me, which she presumably sat on before, straightened her skirt, crossed her legs, and smiled at me. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as I looked around the compartment.
Luckily, the girl broke the silence.
"I'm Zoe," she said, holding a hand out to shake mine. After a split second of hesitation, I put my hand in hers. It felt tiny and soft.
"Noel," I replied with a raspy voice. I nervously ran my other hand through my blonde hair, which was now sticking out from my head in all possible directions, and looked around the compartment.
Apart from me, four kids were in the compartment, two boys and two girls. Zoe had already introduced herself, but the three others still stared at me as if they had seen a ghost.
"I'm Claire," the other girl finally said. "Claire Peabody."
A boy with dark blue eyes and brown, neatly combed hair got up from his seat and came closer to me, holding his hand out. "Jacques Patrice St. Courfleur," he said with a distinguishable French accent. The other boy leaned on his knees and hissed, "What a weird name," then he nodded in my direction and said, "I'm Anthony Stone, but you can call me Tony."
Although I was pretty sure I would never be able to remember all their names, I thought they all looked like rather lovely people. Claire had once again vanished behind the book she was reading and was extremely quiet, as if she was hoping we would forget she existed.
The other three were soon preoccupied in a heated discussion about Hogwarts - the best house, the food they wanted to try first, the strictest teachers, the best subjects, the most interesting pet, ...
They were so excited and euphoric that a bit of their excitement spilled over to me. Maybe I don't have to abort my magical education at Christmas break, I thought to myself.
"So, Noel, which house do you aim for?" Anthony turned toward me and asked.
"Hm, I don't fully know, to be honest with you," I replied. Aurora had told me about the four houses and the characteristics of their inhabitants, but none of them sounded like me. "Which house do you guys aim for?" I asked him the same question and hoped I would be sorted into the same house.
"Ravenclaw, of course," Jacques said with a wide grin. "Originally, I was supposed to go to Beauxbatons, but my parents weren't sure whether it would be safe right now. The muggles appear to have some issues, and according to my mother, things could get ugly."
"I'm hoping for Gryffindor or Ravenclaw," Tony added. "But my dad told me the Sorting Hat does consider your wishes."
"It's Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff for me. I don't think I would have the courage a Gryffindor needs," Zoe said and shrugged her shoulders as if she had to apologize for that.
"I'm sorry," Claire's voice squeaked from behind her book, "but which houses are you talking about? And this hat... ? I - I mean - My parents are no wizards."
Anthony swiftly changed seats and sat next to Claire, laying his arm around the shy girl's shoulders. "Don't you worry about it one bit. I am here to explain it to you - uhm, if you like, of course."
Claire nodded, and he told her the story of the four Hogwarts founders, the houses, each year's house cup, Quidditch - he explained it better than anyone else would ever be able to tell it, that I was sure of.
Claire looked at him, her eyes full of wonder.
"And this hat really listens to what you want?" she asked hopefully.
"Sure. My dad said this is how he got into Ravenclaw."
"Then I would like to be in Hufflepuff house," she replied and disappeared behind her book again.
At some point during the journey, a lady with a trolley full of food appeared in the corridor. Anthony bought a little bit of something, Jacques politely declined, and Zoe and I shared a few chocolate frogs. As I heard a rustling from the luggage rack, I nestled in the pockets of my robe to find the cookies for Sherlock.
"Ooooooh," made Zoe as I turned towards the owl cage. "Is this your owl?"
"Yes," I replied with a beaming smile.
"What's her name?" Jacques asked.
"He is called Sherlock Holmes, but you can call him Sherlock if you want," I said with a chuckle.
"Ah," made Jacques. He probably didn't know the books.
Claire was the only one who couldn't hold back a laugh.
"Oh, this is just genius," she giggled. "I hope he always finds the correct recipient."
Now I was laughing as well, and the other three looked at us as if we were maniacs.
"Sherlock Holmes is a famous detective in muggle literature," I explained. "I have the books with me if you want to read them someday."
Zoe nodded enthusiastically, and Jacques joined in after a brief moment of hesitation. Only Tony wrinkled his nose.
"I will be so preoccupied with Quidditch; there will barely be any time for reading," he explained.
In the meantime, it had gotten dark outside. I quickly counted the hours in my head and realized we must have been close to arriving at Hogwarts. "We will arrive soon," I said to the others and started grasping the reality of what I had just said. I didn't have any issues with these four people, but there were hundreds of them where we were going.
"Come, we've arrived," said Jacques with his soft voice, put an arm around my shoulders, and pulled me with him with gentle but firm pressure, interrupting my thoughts. As if he could read my mind, he gave me a reassuring smile and said, "Relax, it's not going to be as bad as you think it will be."