CHAPTER TWO
"This is ridiculous."
The other boy shoots him a filthy look.
"It was the best I could do," he says.
Icarus raises an eyebrow. A tall, skinny sixteen-year-old was not the best his father could do, and they both knew it.
"There are millions of people in London," he retorts, "you could've gotten hair from anyone and you got it from someone who'd likely break in half trying to pick up a piece of parchment."
"You're lucky I was able to come and help you at all, you ungrateful arse," the boy hisses back, taking the handle on one side of the trunk, "do you realize how much preparation goes into the welcoming feast? It was a miracle I was able to get Peeves off my tail, let alone anyone else -"
They lift the trunk onto the cart and barely manage to avoid dropping it on any toes.
"- and it's not like I enjoy being this skinny," he continues, as they walk into the station and towards the platforms, "it's like this guy never eats. I'm starving."
Icarus muffles his response with a cough but still manages to get smacked around the back of the head anyway. They come to a stop in front of the barrier and even though he knows it's enchanted, it really doesn't look it…in fact, it looks very solid.
Maybe a bit too solid.
"You're not going to get on the platform by staring at it."
Is it considered patricide, he thinks as he takes the handle of the cart and starts pushing it towards the barrier, if it happens while he's using Polyjuice potion?
He speeds up as he gets closer - if he's going to crash he might as well make a show of it - and he blinks or the light shifts and he's stepping onto a crowded platform. A scarlet train squeals and blows out clouds of steam, obscuring the front carriages.
He realizes, quite suddenly, that this is a lot of people and he's not quite too sure how he's supposed to adjust to this and, maybe, he actually kind of wants to go h-
"Come on," his father says, with the sixteen-year-old's croaky baritone, "there's some room over there."
They navigate the crowd easily enough and somehow manage to lug the trunk up the stairs of the train on the first go. Instead of placing it onto the luggage rack, where it probably should go, they shove it under one of the seats.
A second later, there's a knock at the door of the compartment.
"Sorry," a girl with bob-length chestnut hair says when they turn to look at her, "I was wondering if I could join you? All the other compartments are getting pretty full…"
Icarus glances uncomfortably up at his disguised father, before nodding.
She beams, then tries to drag her trunk the rest of the way into the compartment, fails, and has to ask them for help.
Somewhere on the platform, a whistle blows.
"You'll be fine," his father says, ruffling his hair. His awkward stolen-teenger face smiles and then he's gone.
Icarus takes a seat just as the train begins to move. He watches the crowds, but doesn't search them - he knows he won't find anything anyway.
The girl's so quiet he almost forgets she's there.
"Does he go to Hogwarts, too?"
He blinks, tearing his gaze from the passing trees to look at her.
"Ah, no," he says, "he's just - he was just helping me out…"
"Oh."
He hesitates, looks back out the window again.
"My name's Arianna," she says, "but you can call me Ari, if you like."
"I'm, um, Icarus."
He can't be sure if he's doing this right.
"Cool! That's, like, Greek or something right?" she crosses one leg over the other, "Are you Greek?"
"No."
"Well, I guess that makes sense. You don't look Greek. Where're you from?"
"Wales."
"Oh, really? I've never been to Wales. I've heard its really pretty, though."
He starts to respond, stops, then tries again.
"What about you?" he asks, "Where're you from?"
…
By the time the trolley witch rolls around, Icarus has learned a decent amount about Arianna Sylvester.
One. It doesn't take much to get her talking. Which is a good thing, because then he does less.
Two. A Professor was sent to explain everything to her, but they clearly didn't do a good job of it.
Three. Her mum did not want her to come. At all.
Four. He'd never met anyone with such an insane sweet tooth.
"Whatone?" she asks, biting into a cauldron cake.
"I'm good, thanks," he says, an involuntary smile pulling at his lips as his stomach rumbles in protest.
"Theyreal'goof," she says, "y'sure?"
He eyes the singular pumpkin pasty she'd brought. She notices, laughs, and tosses it to him. He catches it, mutters a small "thanks".
"So there's four houses," she says, again, "and a…hat…chooses where you go?"
"Yeah."
"But it was enchanted ages ago, right? How's it still accurate?"
"I-" he'd thought about it exactly once, then decided he didn't care, "I don't know. Maybe they re-enchant it?"
She unwraps another cauldron cake, bites into it, and nods. He nibbles at the pumpkin pasty.
And as she opens her mouth to ask another question, the door opens.
"Shit, sorry," says the boy, distracted, "wrong one."
He closes it, starts to walk off, then comes back.
"I know you," he says, staring at Icarus.
"You do?"
"Well, not know know," the boy says, "I saw you at Ollivanders. You're a first-year, too?"
Is it that obvious? he thinks, drily.
"Who're you?" Arianna asks, half-curious, half-annoyed.
"Nathan," he takes a seat next to Icarus, tanned hand outstretched, "what's yours?"
"Arianna," she says, taking it.
Nathan looks over at Icarus, expression open, completely unguarded. Christ, he's not used to this.
"Icarus."
"Well," Nathan says, beaming, "at least I won't forget your name. I'm terrible with names."
He stays in the compartment with them until the train begins to slow and then, panicking, rushes back to his own to get changed. Arianna had grown quieter the closer they'd gotten, and paler. Several beauty spots stood out on her face like a constellation.
"What if my mum's right?" she says quietly, once they've both changed.
"What, about Hogwarts?"
"About me," she says, "what if I don't fit in?"
He frowns.
"Why wouldn't you fit in? There's loads of Muggleborns who go to Hogwarts," he says, confused, "and they're some of the best students there."
She smiles, slightly.
A tinny voice echoes through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
It feels like years, like seconds, before the train slows to a stop and they pile out onto a cold, dark platform. A lamp flickers in the distance.
"Firs' years!" bellows a deep voice, "Firs' years over here!"
Arianna follows him toward the source of the voice, and they find that it belongs to a giant of a man - someone Icarus had only heard of from his father's rants.
"C'mon, over here! Is this all o' yeh? Alright, mind yer step, now! This way!"
Hagrid turns and sets off down a steep, narrow path. The group of first-years follow quietly. Icarus is sure he can hear his own heart, beating much faster than normal.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid calls to them, after a while, "jus' round this bend here."
Arianna mutters a soft 'oh' as the narrow path suddenly opens up to a great, pitch-black lake. Carved into the mountainside, across from them, a castle rises into the starry sky, its windows flickering in invitation. Icarus stares at it for a moment, stunned.
He'd visited twice when he was much much younger; his memories were of gray, damp corridors and bright sunlight.
This? This was…beautiful.
"No more'n four to a boat," Hagrid calls, pointing towards a small fleet right by the water's edge. Icarus and Arianna somehow manage to join Nathan in his.
"Everyone in?" Hagrid asks, an entire boat to himself, "Right, then - FORWARD!"
The little fleet sets off across the water, and though everyone else stares up, up at the castle, the turrets, and the clouds, Icarus finds himself watching the reflection of it in the water. He's sure, for a moment, that he can see something small, and pale, following them.
"Heads down!"
He bends his head obligingly and they pass through a curtain of ivy, along a dark tunnel, and stop at a makeshift sort of harbor, where they scramble out of the boats onto rocks and pebbles.
After checking that everyone was there that he'd left with, Hagrid sets off along another dark passageway which leads out onto a field of long, damp grass.
They walk up a flight of massive stone steps.
Hagrid raises a fist.
He knocks.