Chapter 4: Goodbyes

Wrote this half last night, half today. :)

Loved my reviews! And I've decided where I'm putting Neville.

Nanda's POV:

I was sitting in my chair, just watching the dark clouds roll across the grey sky. It would probably rain soon, but the clouds were still a ways away. I felt the music inside me tense up. It had never done that before, and it was odd for it to do it now. Looking back to the small house (which didn't look familiar in the least), I heard an awful noise, like the something had cut through the air. The music in my veins went into a frenzy. It was such a terrible sound, like fingernails on a chalkboard; my whole body hated it.

I stood, and went to find the source of the awful sound, and stop it. I walked down the strange white-cream hallway. This was most certainly not the manor I called my home. It was painfully bland and uncoordinated, nothing like the perfectly decorated and lovely walls that lined my walls. Where am I? How do I get back home? I instinctively felt for the neck charm that was always around my neck, but found it was missing. Where on earth did it go? I looked around the ugly green floor (I wasn't sure what it was made of, but I didn't want to touch it to find out), but it was nowhere in sight. I decided to look for it later, after I stopped that noise and gave my ears a break.

Each doorway that came up, I checked. The first few were empty, but as I grew further down the hall, the sound was closer, and louder, and more painful. I skipped a few doors, and went to the end of the hallway, where I guessed the noise was coming from. I winced and put my hands over my ears. The door was just barely cracked, and the noise leaked from the opening. I peeked into the room.

There was a man sitting on an old, grey couch. He had light brown hair, and pale skin. His eyes were shut tightly, tears pouring from them and he shook violently with sobs. Each intake of breath he took, that was the noise. I watched him there. He was sad; I couldn't stop him from crying, and so the noise would continue. I kept watching him, hoping at any moment, he would stop, and my ears would be allowed to rest. The man didn't stop crying. He was in so much pain, it seemed, but what had caused the pain was unknown to me, just as the identity of the man was. I was tempted to open the door and ask, but I felt it would be better not to.

The man's eyes shot open, revealing a perfect almond color. He looked hurriedly around the room for something for a few seconds, before he found it in the dim light on the other side of the couch. His hands came back up, revealing two things, a picture and a knife. The blade of the knife shined evilly in the lack of light, and I wondered what he would do to the picture with a knife. If he were going to cut it up, it made more sense to use scissors, or just hands. How on Earth would he cut it with the knife? The man looked over the picture and tears came back to his eyes. And he sobbed.

"Venus…why?"

He shut his eyes again and tossed the picture away. It floated away from where I thought it would land, and fell closer to the door where I stood. The man raised his hand that held the knife and he opened his eyes to look over its jagged edges. So if he didn't mean to cut the picture, what was he going to use the knife for? He answered my question when he put it to his arm, just below the shoulder, and ran the blade quickly across it, leaving a rather large cut to bleed.

He hissed in pain, but did nothing much else. His blood flowed down his arm, staining his shirt and dripping on the floor, which was already covered with blood. But he had only just cut himself, so that blood wasn't from today. He clenched his teeth and made another cut two inches below the last one. This man was mental. Why would he do this? The amount of blood multiplied, and got everywhere; on the couch, and his pants, on his hands, on the floor, and on the knife. The knife seemed to glitter with the blood on it, like this was its intension all along, to cut. The man, still sobbing, threw the knife against the wall in frustration.

"Nothing is working…" he murmured. "Nothing will bring you back. Nothing will end my pain. Nothing, Venus. Nothing…"

His hand twitched and the knife flew back into his hands. He said something that I didn't catch, and the blood on the knife vanished. The blade looked shiny, and cleaned, and ready to serve once more. I feared the man would cut himself again. Even if I did not know him, I still thought it horrible for him to do that. He just looked over the knife, seeming to take in every detail about it. Maybe he wouldn't cut himself again. He still needed to heal his previous cuts, but at least he wouldn't cut himself again.

The man gripped the knife handle in his hand. He wouldn't do it again, would he? I bit my lip in hopes that he would come to his senses. He placed his other hand over the first, and pulled the knife down to his stomach, where it stabbed into him. Blood stained his shirt around the wound. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out but blood. His hands moved from the knife, and I saw it had definitely penetrated all the way to the handle. I didn't want to watch anymore, but my eyes were glued to the scene, no matter how hard I pulled away. The man crumpled on the red couch and his breathing became shallow. He turned his head towards the door where I was, and our eyes met. And the light left his eyes, as he took his last breath.

I couldn't believe my eyes. That man had just killed himself, right in front of me. I pushed open the door to step into the room. The things I hadn't been able to see before, I could see now. Everything in the room was destroyed; pictures were ripped apart and thrown every which way, a mirror was shattered, the glass littering the floor with sharp points, shelves were broken, or thrown across the room. I carefully placed my steps to avoid stepping on the mess, over to where the picture was on the ground. I needed to see that picture. Who was it of? Why did it make this man kill himself? It obviously held some value. I picked it up, but before my eyes could register it, the world went black.

I sat up in my bed. I was alone, in this small room, and I suddenly wished for the large, comfortable bed my dads slept in. That nightmare always haunted me. I could never understand what it meant, nor did I ever get to see the picture, but I figured if I ever did see the picture, it would tell me what it was about. I sighed and sat back in my silver and gold bed. Every time I thought about the color of my sheets, I was instantly reminded of a happier time. I lay back down to finish my night with a more pleasant dream.

A huge smile lined my face. "Oh, Papa! I really can't wait to get my new room! Oh, it's going to be amazing."

My papa chuckled. His hand was entwined with my dad's, and we were upstairs walking to the last door at the end of the hallway. True, I had never seen the room before, but I was so excited to have my own room. I usually had slept in a small bed in my dads' room, but it was now too small. This was going to be an adventure, I could tell.

I ran down the hallway to the door and tugged at the knob. "Aw, it's locked." My dad came right after me, and turned the knob just as I had, but it opened. I stared, amazed. "How did you do that?"

He smiled. "It's magic."

We walked inside the room. It was rather dark, and I couldn't see much of anything. So far, it needed a light.

"This was my old room when I first came here." My papa said. "But since I've moved into someone else's bed," he winked at my dad (that innuendo passing over my head at the time), "I've decided you might like it. Lumos maxima" I hadn't noticed he had gotten his wand out, but the tip of it lit up to reveal the rather black room. Almost everything was black, with a few exceptions that were green. It was a nice room, perfect size for me.

"It just needs some light so I could see."

"Of course, pup," said my dad. He waved his hand, and little balls of light, much like the ones in the hallway, lit up the room perfectly. "Now, these lights should dim and brighten, depending on how awake you are."

My papa turned out his light. Smiling, he flicked his wand at the sheets, and they turned red and gold, the walls were a nice cream color, and the floor was a deep red, like wine. "There we are. Perfect room for you."

My dad looked at my papa, flicking his hand at the room, turning the sheets green and silver, the walls a pale grey, and the floor a charcoal black. "I believe that is a much necessary change."

Papa put a hand on his hip and used his wand to make the room to his preference. "I don't think so." A grin was on his face. Of course, Dad retaliated and the room went back to his colors.

I watched as they went back and forth, changing the room so fast, it made me eyes hurt a bit, but I laughed. Then, they cast at the same time, and the colors merged perfectly. My sheets were silver and gold, the walls were a creamy grey color and the floor was an almost-black red color. Before they could change it, I said, "It's perfect! I love it!"

My dads laughed and lowered from their battle positions. My papa put his wand away and came over to hug me. "Glad you like it pup."

3rd Person POV:

The sun began to rise, pushing the pale moon out of the sky. Light seeped in through the windows of the manor, exposing the things that once casted shadows on the walls. A new day was starting; the first day of school. Nanda woke slowly from his happy dream, and rubbed his eyes, yawning sleepily at the brightness that began to come to the room. The room still a bit dim, and his eyes full of sleep, Nanda did his best to make it to the bathroom to get ready for the day. His shower definitely woke him up, and he was ready to face the on-coming day.

Harry had been awake awhile now. He was having trouble sleeping, knowing this would be the last time he would see Nanda until the holidays. He looked over at his clock. 30 minutes after 6. He sat up in bed, knowing very well that would wake up Tom. After a few moments, Tom sat up as well. "Is it morning already, love?"

"Not just morning. It's the day our pup goes to Hogwarts for his first year."

Tom sighed. He hadn't quite gotten rid of that odd feeling he had noticed a while ago, but he had come to terms with it. It will go away after Nanda has left for school, he told himself. He wrapped his arms around Harry, who was taking it a bit hard that their son would be leaving them. "He's going to have fun. We have already told him about his fame a few months ago. It is bound to have soaked in by now. Our pup is grown. He can handle himself."

Harry put his hands to his forehead. "But I don't want him to handle himself. I want to hold him, and make sure he's alright, and keep away his nightmares, and watch him play outside…" He sighed. He really didn't want his pup to be growing up so fast, but who was he to stop him? "But I have to let him go."

"Yes, love. Our pup needs to learn how to be a great wizard."

"And he can't go alone to the station." Harry smiled. "Come on. We have to get ready."

Tom was nervous. It would be his first time out in public since he was almost killed (not that he was scared someone would try to kill him as much as he didn't want to cause a commotion). Harry had assured he would be fine, and he finally relented, knowing very well that Harry would drag him to the station to say goodbye to Nanda if he had to. He let go of Harry, but Harry pulled on his arms as he crawled out of the large bed, so Tom had to crawl out after him. He chuckled as Harry continued to pull him into the bathroom. He pulled off his own sleeping clothes, and after seeing Tom hadn't done the same, helped him pull his off.

Harry started the shower, making sure the water was hot enough to ease the tension in their muscles, but not to burn their skin. "Come on, Tom." Harry grabbed his love's arm and tugged it to the shower. They both got in and Tom smiled.

"And what do I thank for this lovely morning shower?"

Harry placed a kiss on his lips. "We need to relax."

Tom placed kisses from Harry's shoulder to his neck. "Thank you, tension, for allowing this handsome man to be in my shower." Harry laughed and rolled his head back.

Nanda put on his robes and combed his hair. He always loved the color of his hair, like wheat, or a beautiful harp made of light wood (how on Earth that was a comparison to hair was beyond him, but he thought it nonetheless). There wasn't much to do with it, because it was so short, so he just combed it back like he normally did. At least it was more manageable than his papa's hair. But it would never be quite as perfect as his dad's.

Harry stood, stark naked, in front of the mirror, trying to figure out what to do with his unruly hair. It was just a black mess on top of his head. He groaned and looked to Tom, who was half dressed in his robes. "How do you get your hair so perfect?"

Tom looked up and shrugged. "I do nothing but comb it. It just falls into place."

Harry groaned again. "My hair is always a mess."

Tom walked over to Harry and placed a kiss on his head. "But it looks so perfect on you." Tom nibbled on his ear, and Harry giggled at the tickling sensation it caused.

"I look like I've just been shagged."

/Exsactly./ Tom hissed in his ear.

Nanda sat in his chair in the dining room. He always loved how spectacularly large it was, and how long the table was, even if it was only the three of them who ate here, with the occasional guest or two. He was sure his dads would be out any minute now, since they probably had much more to their morning routine than he did. He had his wand in his pocket, loving the aura that seemed to be radiating around it, making his music twirl and spin in excitement. He wanted oh so badly to do some magic with it, but he did not know how to do anything. That's why I'm going to Hogwarts, he told himself. But still… He pulled out his wand and tried one of the spells he had heard his dads use. "Lumos"

Harry kissed Tom and they left their room, heading for the dining room. Their morning had been perfectly relaxing, just enough to take their worries from their minds. They heard Nanda in the dining room, but what he was saying exactly was lost amongst the echoes that bounced off the walls. In a spur of the moment, Tom grabbed Harry's wrists and pushed him up against that wall. Harry laughed and they kissed once more, more carefree and having fun.

Nanda heard his dads laughing in the hallway, and quickly put his wand away. He had only managed a small light that quickly faded away, but he was sure he would get it later on. Harry and Tom finally made it to the dining room and found Nanda sitting in his chair waiting for them.

"Sorry we took a while, pup." Harry said. "I didn't know what to do with my hair this morning."

Nanda looked over at him and snickered. His papa's hair was as messy as always. "I see you found a lovely style for it," he joked.

Harry stopped a moment to pose, as if for a picture. "Yes. I call it: Bed Head. What do you think?"

"Marvelous, love." Tom stated with a smile.

"It's fantastic." Nanda said.

They all laughed, and Tom and Harry sat down. The elves brought their breakfast and then popped away (but not before Nanda could say a "thank you" to them). They ate happily, enjoying their full family moment for as long as they could before they left off for the train station, talking about their plans for the holidays, and reliving great memories they had just remembered, and how wonderful Hogwarts was (especially now that it had some renovating). And then they finished breakfast, and their seriousness set in as they readied for their trip.

Nanda's POV:

Looking around, there were so many people, almost all of whom were muggles. When I looked at them, I saw nothing different; nothing that would insist they were unlike us in any way. I pulled my trunk behind me, with my small brown owl, Sparo (1), attached to it in his silver cage, my robes billowing around me. And yet, we were so different from them. I'm sure if they paid us any attention, they themselves would notice that I stuck out like a sore thumb. Merlin, muggles are thick-headed.

I looked around, trying to find the platform, a cold spot growing in my stomach when I noticed all the platforms were whole numbers, and not in fractions as mine was. I kept walking, following my dads. Surely they know where they're going. We passed many different platforms before we stopped between two, platforms nine and ten. Platform 9 ¾ was nowhere in sight.

"Dad," I turned to look at him. "Where's my platform? I don't see it."

My dad turned to me and smiled, pointing at the wall between the two platforms. "It is just through that wall."

"You run straight at it. Don't be scared. I promise you crash into it." Papa nodded for me to go.

I looked at the wall. It seemed so…solid. But surely my dads wouldn't lie to me about this, or let me run into walls head first. I braced myself, and ran straight into it. A little voice of doubt in my head kept expecting me to crash, but I kept going. And I passed right through the wall into an equally as crowded station, full of people pulling trunks and cages, just like me. My dads came walking through right after me, hand in hand. I smiled when I saw the sign. Platform nine and three quarters. My dads helped me find the train alright, and then it was time to say goodbye.

My papa kneeled down to me and I hugged him tightly. As excited as was to Hogwarts, I would miss him so much. After knowing he had went through the same thing I was going to go through made it all the more easier. I was sure I would be as great as him someday. He released me and kissed my head. "Have a good time at Hogwarts, pup." I nodded and looked to my dad.

He was always so different from my papa. I knew that if I hadn't gone over to him and hugged him, he never would have wrapped his arms around me and said, "Good luck, my pup." He had always been like that. Not that I minded so much, since he was never too protective, and gave me my space; I could respect that. It was also a part in that he may not have known how to react, which troubled me a bit. Ever since I had found out about his past, I hadn't really changed much opinion about him, other than how similar we were. We lost both our parents, and lived in orphanages. It was quite sad, really, that he could did not have such luck as I did to have such a wonderful family. I made sure he understood that I loved him, since I didn't have to tell my papa as often, because he already knew, but my dad needed that extra reminder.

"I love you, dad. I'll miss you both." I let him go, and made my way onto the train. There were so many empty compartments to sit in, I wasn't sure where I should choose to sit. I walked down the train until I found one with two kids in it. I didn't want to sit alone, and from the looks of it, they seemed nice enough (and I made sure they didn't have platinum blonde hair, since it was quite a possibility they could). I opened the door. "Hello, there." I said to two boys. They had their robes on, too. The boys had dirty blonde hair, light eyes, and pale skin. Obvious twins. "Could I sit with you two?"

The boy on the right said, "Sure," and gave out his hand to shake, which I took. "My name's Lorcan Scamander, and this is my brother Lysander."

I smiled and sat down, closing the door behind me. "My name's Nanda."

That was a great chapter, was it not? Review! M'kay thanks!

1. "Sparo" is Italian, meaning "Fire" (give a little cheer for Google Translate! Hip-hip Hooray!)