The OMEGA tree
The Eightfive’s were a well known family in the wizarding world. They owned one of the biggest wandwood companies in the world, supplying to, among others, Olivanders. The Swedish company had been run by the family for centuries, producing only the finest spars and spruces and even making sure that the bowtruckles settled in their trees got a new home.
Iskall was proud to be an Eightfive, but it came with lots of pressure. As the only child it would fall onto him to keep the family's honour and pride. Especially now that he was going to Hogwarts and not Durmstrang like the rest of his family had gone to. Call it a publicity stunt, a way to connect more to the British wandmakers and to improve his English. It would be good for business making.
It had not been his choice, if it were up to him he would be going to Durmstrang. He did not like the warmth, the wet and the damp the UK brought, not at all. He preferred the cold, the snow and the wild winds of northern Sweden. That was home. Hogwarts was not.
“Eightfive, Iskall.” Gasps could be heard throughout the Great Hall as his name got called for the sorting ceremony. If he had not been so nervous as he was right now, he would have rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath and sat down on top of the slightly unstable wooden chair placed on top of the podium. Professor McGonagall gave him a tight, but reassuring, smile and placed an old rotten hat on his head.
“Utmost peculiar… I’ve never seen an Eightfive before, peculiar indeed. I sense a great longing in you, a desperate cry for adventure but… no. I know just what to do with you. Gryffindor!”
The table on the right blew up with cheers and he got pat on the back as soon as he sat down. It was drowning, he felt like drowning.
“Hullo,” pierced a voice through the chaos, “I’m Hypno, also a first years. Nice to meet you.” Iskall met the outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake. “Hallo, Iskall Eightfive, a pleasure as well.” Maybe it was a bit too professional, but can you blame him? He did not know how to interact with people! The only people he interacted with were his family and his family’s business partners.
“Slab, Etho!” “Gryffindor!” Iskall was, again, startled by the immense amount of noise his (yes this was really going to be his house) housemates were making once another first year got sorted into the house of the lion.
Etho, a white blonde with one green and one red eye made his way over to him and Hypno and almost fell on top of Iskall while trying to sit down.
“Oh Merlin, soory. I can be so clumsy at times. I’m Etho by the way, you’re Iskall and Hypno, right?” The two nodded and shook Etho’s hand. The Canadian seemed nice enough, he could see him and Hypno rooming for the rest of his years at Hogwarts.
“Symmetry, False!” “Gryffindor!” Iskall was getting used to the noise by now and was relieved to see False sitting on the opposite side of him, next to Hypno.
“Hi, I’m False. Nice to meet y’all.” The blonde said professionally. Ah, so he was not the only one. Maybe it was a British custom, then he would at least be doing one thing right.
The four feasted on the incredible meal the house elves had prepared for them and chatted all throughout the evening. Iskall found them to be good company. That until they began prying into his background.
“You’re Swedish, right Iskall?” Hypno asked him and he nodded. “Yes I am.”
“How come you’re not attending Durmstrang then? It’s much closer and I know that the Eightfives always go to Durmstrang, why Hogwarts?” Etho questioned.
“I dunno man, I did not make the decision myself. And to be honest, I would much rather be at Durmstrang than here in the UK. I don’t like the rain.” His words drew a chuckle out of his newfound friends.
“I feel you man,” Etho nodded along, “I’m from Canada and I also prefer the snow over the rain. Snow is so magical and rain… is just not.” Iskall let out an inward sigh of relief. At least he was not the only one.
“Why are you actually here Etho? Ilvermorny is the wizarding school in North-America right?” False retorted to which Etho shrugged his shoulders. “Just did not like the vibe. That and my father is a professor there, so I did not want to go to the same school as him. Also, everyone knows that Hogwarts is the best all round school for magic users. They just cover almost all aspects and Ilvermorny does not.”
After that talk it became clear that the four would not be separated any time soon. But as much as Iskall liked his friends, he also liked his passion. Upon hearing that the Forbidden Forest was, well, forbidden, he was disappointed. He liked the trees there, he knew that there would be lots of oak trees waiting in there, all covered by the bowtruckles he so loved.
But as they were not supposed to enter the forest, he took his interest somewhere else; the Whomping willow. Or, as he so lovingly called it, the Omega tree.
He could not help it, the tree was just so awesome; it was alive. It could shake its leaves in one go without any consequences, it could punch birds to death with just a twig and between its roots was a
hole of which he was sure would lead to a tunnel.
But he was not interested in the tunnel. The school must have had their reasons for planting a conveniently punching tree on top of it and he was not going to question it.
What he could, however, do was draw it, countless times. And read about it, again, countless times. He was obsessed with it, it became his baby.
Every week he would go and sit on one of the many rocks scattered around the terrain and stare at it. And when he did, all of his homesickness vanished. It was just him and the tree. Nothing else mattered.
Except it did one night. The moon was full and bright, illuminating the world around her. It was the perfect time for Iskall to observe the tree with no other students to aggravate it.
That was until a small figure began running towards him Omega tree and in their haste never saw Iskall on his rock. The person levited a stick and pressed it against the trunk, making it stop the wild moves it was making in order to, most likely, punt the poor fellow to the ground.
The figure slid into the hole underneath the roots and disappeared from Iskall’s sight.
Huh, would you look at that?
To be continued in a later chapter…