Memento Mori

Chapter 17: Moral of the Story

1st September 1938, London

King's Cross Station was bustling with people that morning as the autumn sun's rays beat down harshly on Cordelia and Tom. Leaves had started to shift in colour and the air had chilled a little but none of that seemed to bother Tom who was dressed in a light grey sweater and an old coat that once belonged to Robbie. He hurried into the station, his hand tightly wrapped around Cordelia's wrist while his other hand dragged the trolley with their luggage and Cordelia's owl birdcage. They both had a leather satchel hanging across their chest.

Behind the two children, Robbie followed them haplessly. He'd been sent in Martha and Mrs Cole's place to drop Tom and Cordelia off as the two caretakers of the orphanage had their hands full with a chicken pox outbreak that had seemed to have sprung from nowhere and swept through the entire Orphanage.

Only Cordelia and Tom seemed to be immune from the outbreak. It was obvious why—neither of them really spent time with the other children as much since they had gotten their Hogwarts letters.

She'd spent hours organising what little she had along with the school supplies she'd bought, into an old trunk she'd picked up at Diagon Alley and skimmed through the textbooks in her spare time. Tom did the same, she suspected. She hadn't really seen her 'friend' for four whole days—didn't really help that she'd gone back to skipping meals. Nobody really had time to check up on her anymore since almost everyone was sick.

Robbie and Margaret had barely been spared by the pox after catching it once and quickly recovering.

Those two tried their best to check on her and make sure she ate her meals as best as they could but they had to help Mrs Cole and Martha as well. A real shame but Cordelia wasn't upset. She was only sad that the house felt the emptiest it had been in years with almost all the children confined to their rooms. Wool's was eerily quiet and she didn't like wandering halls anymore.

Cordelia couldn't even say goodbye to poor Lucy who had to be confined to her old room for pox. She could only stand outside and wave her goodbye before Tom had come along and dragged her way, grumbling under his breath about Cordelia catching chicken pox. She was disappointed of course but Tom was right and she didn't need to be told twice before she was already moving through the near empty halls of Wool's.

"Shouldn't we wait for Robbie or slow down?" She asked between breathless gasps of air as she tried her hardest to keep up.

Tom ignored her. His ever-present scowl had been momentarily replaced the moment he stepped into the station, by a small harmless smile that looked very foreign on his pretty face.

"Tom, slow down!" Robbie bellowed out, clutching his chest as he all but ran towards Tom while muttering quick sorries to men in business suits and women in fine dresses. His cheeks tinged in red when he managed to stop Tom. "The train's not gonna leave without you two, you could slow down a little."

The corners of Tom's lips quivered, resisting the urge to click his tongue. He nodded apathetically, not bothering to reply to Robbie. His gaze on Robbie had changed a lot since he had returned from his trip to Diagon Alley. It wasn't just Robbie either.

Cordelia pursed her lips and threw an apologetic look to Robbie, clearing her throat to speak but Tom had already turned his back to them, ready to resume his run to the train to Hogwarts.

"Tom…" She tiredly called out. Tom stopped and craned his neck behind his shoulder to look at her, his grip noticeably slacking a little. "You're dragging me along. I almost tripped." An unobvious lie that she was sure Tom would not catch on. She glanced at Robbie and the older boy jumped to her defence.

"That's why I told you to slow down, Tom." Robbie sighed and shook his head side to side like a disappointed older brother. "See, Cordelia almost got hurt because of your hurry. Slow down, we'll all go together and give me your luggage."

Sparing Robbie a quick look, Tom turned to carefully examine Cordelia. His eyes darkened. "You're fine." Said Tom, his grip tightening like a vice as a spark of pain shot through Cordelia where he touched her. "You didn't trip and we're late."

"We're not late." Cordelia tried again.

"But we will be and then there won't be any good seats left." He added, not even bothering to acknowledge Robbie. "We might even miss the train if you keep stopping us every five minutes."

Robbie scrunched up his brow and shook his head with a sigh. "That's not gonna happen. There's plenty of time left, relax and slow down or one of you will trip and get injured. I mean it, Tom–Hey! Tom! Tom! Get back—ugh! Tom!"

Tom ignored Robbie and resumed his pace. She could do nothing to quell his impatience but throw more apologies to Robbie who'd taken his time to accompany them; Tom didn't want or need anyone to accompany them while Cordelia didn't care, she'd get where she needed to be regardless.

Seeing Tom had no intention to stop, Robbie quickened his pace, overtaking Tom. He took the luggage off Tom's hands and grinned. "Now let's see where this platform 9 3/4 is. I don't reckon it exists but we'll see."

"You can just drop us off near Platform 9 or 8 and we'll find the right Platform." Cordelia offered with a sweet smile, her stomach churning. Tom moved away and impatiently stood in the distance, glaring daggers at the older boy. His face twisted into a scowl and his right hand reaching for the wand in his pocket once again.

"Mrs Cole told me to make sure to see you and Tom get on that train—wherever it may be." Robbie's tired eyes scanned the entire floor while dodging the bustling crowds, eyes fluttering open and close while his feet swayed lightly where he stood. "Should be here somewhere…" He muttered with his hands on hips—an attempt to steady himself, no doubt.

Who knew when was the last time he got proper sleep—Cordelia certainly didn't know.

The way Robbie was going, Cordelia was sure he'd faint then and there. Poor Robbie hadn't probably slept properly in days. The dark circles under his eyes and the pinkish tinge to the whites of his eyes were enough to draw most people's sympathy including Cordelia, Tom on the other hand…

"We can get on the train on our own. You don't need to follow us all the way." Once again, he wasn't looking at Robbie. His gaze trained on a strangely dressed family. "I'm sure you'll be busy. Cordelia and I can make our own way here and out. Don't you have to collect some parcels from Dr Wool at the post office?" He finished, taking their luggage back.

"Mrs Cole said—"

"Robbie," Cordelia quickly interjected. She could almost see dark clouds of anger forming above Tom, the way he was pouring in anger and his eyes narrowing dangerously close. The boy almost reached into his old coat for his wand. "We're close to Platform 9 and I'm sure Mrs Cole will understand why you didn't see us get on the train."

"But—"

"We'll be fine." She doubled down and patted Robbie's shoulders, having to crane her neck high to get a good look at the well-meaning older boy who was like a brother she never had. She hated how short she was compared to Robbie. Times like that were the only times she appreciated Tom, he wasn't as tall as Robbie and she didn't have to hurt her neck to look up at the boy. "I'll write to you when I can and Lucy, of course. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her. I'm not sure if Peggy would be too keen but—"

Robbie smiled fondly and patted her head though he wanted to ruffle her hair, he like everyone at Wool's knew how hard her hair was to manage. "Peg would love letters from you." Said Robbie, taking a step back. He glanced over at Tom and gave a solemn nod. "You too, Tom. Write back if you can…if it's not too much trouble."

Tom grumbled out a polite "I'll see." before he had turned his back to Robbie and was walking towards a wall sandwiched between two other walls near Platform 9. He stood there and waited for Robbie to leave and for Cordelia to come back.

Standing on her toes, Cordelia reached over and wrapped her small arms around Robbie who patted her back. Once again, he resisted the urge to ruffle her hair before pulling back. "Don't forget to write back and come home for Christmas if you can." He said, taking steps back and throwing another glance at Tom. "And look after Tom, will you?"

Cordelia smiled and nodded. "I always have." She said softly, staring at Tom's back. "I don't think anyone will be brave or stupid enough to pick a fight with him—not with that nasty temper of his."

"Let's hope not." Robbie patted her head again and turned around to leave the station.

But he didn't leave. She noticed that he stopped a good distance away from the two, still keeping his eyes on them

With his head hung low, Cordelia noticed he held her gift to him from last Christmas in his hands—a satin handkerchief that looked very odd with his shabby appearance.

"You know, you'll see them again." He held out his hand for her, his polite smile was very unsettling to her but she reluctantly took his hand.

"I know but it's still sad." She muttered. Tom shrugged and pulled her back before the two glanced at each other and at the wall. "And you need to stop reaching for your wand for no reason. You know we're not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts—you remember what Professor Dumbledore said—Tom, stop."

But Tom was already walking away. He pulled her back before he ran straight into the wall with Cordelia's hand in his. The air was knocked out of her lungs and she braced herself for impact but she felt nothing as her eyes opened to another bustling platform.

On the corner above the wall on a maroon sign in painted white read 'Platform 9 3/4'. Cordelia sucked in a breath and looked to Tom for his reaction but the boy didn't react. There was no look of awe or surprise; it was like it was the most normal thing he'd seen. He'd long given up pretending to be surprised or shocked by feats of magic, quickly adapting to the new world—too quickly. Her friend only gripped her hand tighter, pulling her along.

"Mind the gap!" The voice of a gruff old man repeatedly echoed in the bustling station. Witches and wizards alike ran past them, chattering about Hogwarts. "Mind the gap, people! If you fall, it's on you not me!" He screeched out in a bird-like manner, causing a few passerby witches to flinch and cover their ears.

"Tom!" Cordelia hissed out.

The station really was unlike any she'd ever seen before and there was slight buzz of excitement in the air that was so infectious that she'd momentarily forgotten all about her anger towards Tom or that gnawing feeling of dread that had haunted her since the moment she had that nightmare when she received her Hogwarts letter.

But she had to come back to reality, almost being splashed coldly by it when Tom's bitterly cold hand found itself back into her warm ones, entwining his fingers with hers tightly. He stared at her long, waiting for her to snap out of her daydream but not daring to call out to her.

Though she noted that he was sure to scan each and every person on the platform young and old like he was recording them to memory.

"Tom," She called out again, in a softer tone. He only nodded once at her before giving her hand a little tug and dragging her over to one of the doors of the train. "Slow down." She tried again but he wasn't listening.

She was so busy trying to catch his attention that she almost screamed when their trunks flew off the trolley Tom had been dragging all this time. The two trunks along with the birdcage flew through the air a little, twirling and dancing in the air with a trail of pale gold sparks following them before it packed itself inside the luggage compartment of the train.

Nobody seemed to bat an eye at the feat, certainly not Tom who turned away to spare a glance at the large ornate clock hanging on the wall. "I'm getting on, are you coming or not?" He didn't really give her time to answer before he was pulling her again into the train. "I'll look for a compartment, go get changed and meet me in our compartment."

"Why should I?" She spat out, annoyed at being constantly ignored the whole day. "You've been dragging me everywhere—why should I listen to you?"

"Then find your own compartment to sit in." He replied blankly. "Hmm? Nothing to say? Where'd that fire go?" That smug subtle grin on his face appeared, replacing the foreign polite smile he'd sported since he'd gotten his letter. Oh how Cordelia hated that grin but she'd admit to herself, it looked more at home than that smile. "That's what I thought."

She glared at him and gave his cold hand a tight squeeze, trying to cut his blood flow—if his blood really did flow then he'd be hurt, at least that's what she thought. He looked amused by her like she was a child. They were the same age! He was only older than her by a couple of months.

"I don't like you." She bitterly muttered and didn't notice the darkness cast a shadow on his grin.

Tom squeezed her hand back, not exactly cutting her blood flow but more like he was trying to drag her towards him. He loosened his grip momentarily to examine a passing group of blonde and sickly looking pale face dark haired children—a Malfoy with a group of Blacks, she was sure of it.

A quiet hiss and Tom's coat began to move. Cordelia's head dropped and her eyes narrowed on Tom who didn't meet her gaze. She pulled her hand away from Tom, glaring at him.

"You're trying to get kicked out before you've even taken a step into Hogwarts." She harshly whispered, ignoring the questioning gazes of the other passengers.

"They said pets were allowed." Said Tom in a nonchalant manner as if he wasn't hiding a snake in his coat.

"And they specified which ones."

"You got an owl."

"An owl, not a snake!" Eris' head popped out from Tom's coat and looked sadly at Cordelia. "Tell it to stop making that face."

"It's a 'she' and she's not making any faces at you." He threw open the door to an empty compartment and laid down on the seat closest to the window before motioning her to do the same. "Sit down."

Cordelia refused. She puffed up her cheeks and looked away. "Get rid of Eris."

"You have Olwen."

"Olwen is an owl and she's not here." How Cordelia wished her pale golden owl was actually there, Olwen would calm her down. It wasn't fair or right that Tom snuck Eris in. "Get rid of Eris."

"I'm not doing that." He took out a book from the small leather satchel he'd been carrying. "Sit down."

"Tom." Why couldn't he just ever follow the rules? She didn't understand him at all. "Just get rid of it."

"No, sit down or go and get changed."

She glared hard down at Tom before turning around and stomping out of the compartment. She clenched her satchel around her so tight that her knuckles turned white. She didn't want to get in trouble; why couldn't he just follow the stupid rules? They weren't even that hard to follow.

Angrily, she got changed and stomped back to their compartment. The train still hadn't left the station and she noticed many students still looking around for a place to sit. Tom was right again, if they were any minute later, they'd be part of that rat race to find two spots to sit.

"You're back." He had a book in hand, already dressed in his Hogwarts robes, looking more at home with his new appearance. "Sit down."

She rolled her eyes and sat down opposite him. His dark eyes looked up from his book momentarily before he tilted his head to the side and motioned to the seat next to him.

Turning her head away, she pretended she didn't see him. "Cora…" He muttered under his breath in pure frustration. "...always going against what I say." He sighed and turned a page and she laid her head against the cool window.

The moment she felt herself slipping away into sleep, her lower body turned cold. The bone chilling cold spread through her body fast, paralysing her. She was being dragged under the icy waves and she was drowning, her lungs constricting and she was gasping for air. She wanted to hit her chest or claw at her neck but she couldn't move.

With a quiet gasp, she sat up and looked into an abyss. Tom's dark eyes boring into hers. He raised his brow in a silent question. His grip around the old book tightened and he shut it but not before placing a pale gold feather that looked very similar to the ones Olwen sported.

"Cora…" He called out to her.

Her eyes dilated and she was in a daze for a second. Tom put his book to the side and was about to reach out to her but she flinched even though he didn't touch her. He pulled his hand back and picked up the book he was reading.

He stared at her expecting her to say something or start crying.

Instead she swatted strands of her hair away from her face and plastered a bright smile on her face before asking. "What're you reading?"

Frowning, he only waved the book with its cover facing her.

She tilted her head to the side and read the title out loud. "The Tales of Beedle the Bard." Tom was reading fairy tales. No, maybe she was mistaken. "Fairy Tales? You're reading fairy tales? I thought you said reading fairy tales was for children."

"No, I said it made you look like a child." He flipped a page, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face, hidden by the book as he watched Cordelia pout. "Besides, it's not all bad. I can actually understand the characters here compared to the muggle ones."

She paused. Silence overtook their compartment and the noises outside were amplified momentarily. Tom stopped his reading to look up at her in question.

Did she mishear him?

No, he said 'muggle'. She heard him right.

"How—how'd you know that word, Tom?" She slowly asked, leaning forward.

He swallowed and pulled the book higher. "What word?" He replied flippantly.

"Muggle." She repeated. "Who taught you that?"

"I read about it."

Lies.

She could tell by the way he was covering his face and trying his hardest to keep his face blank. Tom wasn't an emotional person but he was a terrible liar when it came to her.

"Origins of Magic by Cuthbert Binns? That book we were told to get. I've finished it and the other textbooks. I learned it from there."

Oh.

Of course. That made sense. Tom wouldn't have known that word otherwise. Tom was raised by muggles. He wasn't like her. No, he wasn't. He wouldn't know anything. He shouldn't have known anything but a nagging voice in the back of her head kept calling her a fool. That voice married with Professor Vablatsky's ramblings echoed in her head, drowning out her own thoughts.

"Right. Of course you've already read ahead." She said in a teasing voice, trying to keep her voice levelled and not let her sudden anxiety leak out. "But where'd you get that book?"

He didn't say anything for a second. Her hands felt clammy and she started to pull at the dead skin at the corner of her right numb, waiting for him to speak.

"I bought it." He answered, flipping over another page.

"You…bought it?" She echoed.

With what money? Tom didn't get that much money. She saw it with her own eyes, the amount of money the grant gave to him. That was all he got.

"Well that's what I said." He said. "Are you still not awake? Maybe you should go to sleep again."

"I'm fine." She said, louder than she intended to. Tom looked up from his reading and raised a brow. Sometimes, he looked and acted so much older than he was. "I'm fine. Where's Eris?"

He tapped his fingers once against the spine of the book, causing her to straighten her back. "Gone." He replied.

"Gone?"

"You wanted her gone so I sent her away."

"Where—"

"You should put your head down and sleep." He cut her off with a sharp glare. "You don't look too well."

"I'm fine."

"Are you? You're not having nightmares again are you?"

"No, I'm fine." He nodded once, flipping another page. "I'm fine. I'm just…tired."

"Then go to sleep." He smiled victoriously, flipping back a page.

She pursed her lips and looked away. He was infuriating and she hated that she lost. She didn't mean to say she was tired. She really wasn't. When Tom looked at her, she felt so sleepy all of a sudden.

Picking up her satchel, she cradled it close to her chest, her diary inside. She fought off the urge to take it out and write. She wanted to write in her diary or write to her uncle but for some she didn't want to do it in front of Tom.

She laid her head down on the window pane again and stared outside at the bustling platform where witches and wizards were busy running for the two trains that went to Hogwarts and elsewhere.

"Read to me." She said without thinking.

Tom's eyes trembled and his fingers dug into the hardcover of the book. Something strange flashed across his eyes and he smiled a genuine smile devoid of all pretences.

"Sit next to me and I'll read to you." She pouted, she really didn't want to move, already comfortable in her seat. "Well?"

Grumbling complaints under her breath, she moved across the compartment and took the seat next to Tom. He grinned victoriously and shifted closer to her.

"Read to me." She repeated almost childishly.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face as he cleared his throat and began to read. "Three brothers travelling along a lonely, winding road at midnight. On their journey, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across–"

"Why'd you stop?" She asked, turning to him.

"Just checking if you're paying attention." He answered with an uneasy look as he swallowed and covered the bottom of the page he was reading.

"I am paying attention." She grumbled.

He nodded once and continued. "However, these brothers were taught in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water."

She laid her head down and unconsciously started to carry on the story before he could. "The brothers only managed to get halfway through the bridge when their path was blocked by a hooded figure shrouded in darkness who called himself…Death."

"I thought you wanted me to read to you." Tom complained but he didn't sound too upset. He seemed almost…concerned. "You're telling me the story instead of letting me read to you."

"I already know the story." She said softly, playing with her hair. "I was just carrying on from what I remembered. My mother used to read this one to me a lot."

Tom stared down at her before continuing. He had questions but his questions could wait. "Death spoke to them—" She couldn't help but let out a giggle. "Cora!"

"I'm sorry but it's always funny whenever that part comes up 'Death spoke to them…', Death spoke to them? Don't you find that funny?"

"Honestly," She lifted her head from his shoulders to look at him. "No. I don't find it funny. I think it's supposed to be terrifying."

"Of course it is." She agreed but she still laughed. "It's a children's story, it's meant to teach young wizards and witches not to play with forces beyond their understanding—whatever that means. But it doesn't mean it can't be funny. Death speaking to anyone is funny even more considering all they did was build a bridge."

"Maybe it was their time to go and that bridge pushed it back."

"Still." Cordelia found it all too unbelievable and funny. Death speaking to three wizards because of a stupid bridge. If anything death should've appeared to Grindelwald and his followers. "It's funny to me."

"Sure. Whatever you say." Tom didn't bother to argue and flipped the page over. "Death spoke to them. Angered that he had been cheated out of three new victims. Death was cunning, he didn't let the brothers know of his anger but instead he congratulated their cleverness and said that they each deserved…a prize for evading him."

Tom paused to breathe. His eyes trembled a little as he scanned the words on the page. "The…eldest, the strongest and fighter between the three, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there and presented it to the brother."

"The second and middle brother, the most arrogant of them all chose to humiliate Death further, asked for the power to recall others from Death. Hearing his demands, Death chose a stone from the riverbank and presented it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead—"

Cordelia took over from Tom before he could move on to the last brother. "The third and youngest brother, the most humble and wise, rightfully didn't trust the cunning Death." She shut her eyes and for a moment, she was in her father's study, lying on her mother's lap with her sister sitting across from her while her father worked by his desk. "…Wary of Death, the youngest asked for something that would allow him to go forth from that place on the bridge without being followed by Death. And Death, begrudgingly cut his own cloak with his scythe and fashioned another cloak for him."

Tom made a sound. "He didn't cut up his own cloak." He attempted to correct. "It says here that he gave over his own cloak to the youngest."

"Well, you're wrong." Cordelia opened her eyes, shattering her own illusions. "Death can't just hand over his own cloak. He needs it too."

"I'm sure he can get another one."

"But it's Death..." Cordelia reminded him. "Death isn't known for his generosity. Why would he give his whole cloak to a man who evaded him once? Giving a part of his cloak away…makes more sense."

"You probably read a different version than this."

"The correct one." She said and he sighed.

He couldn't help but agree that her version made a lot of sense. "How old was the version your mother read to you?"

"I don't know." She couldn't really picture the cover of 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' that her mother read. Did it even have a cover? Not that she could remember. "It didn't have a cover…" She muttered. "It was a bunch of parchment…very old parchments."

"Your mother read you 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' from a bunch of old parchments." He was equal parts scandalised and curious. "Are you sure she didn't make it all up?"

"Are you calling my dead mother a liar, Tom?" She questioned with her brow raised.

"Didn't say that. I think she's…as creative as you are and I was just…curious."

She rolled her eyes and punched him lightly. He didn't react, she was the only one he'd ever allow to treat him that way. "I'm sure you are and I didn't say she read to me the entirety of 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' from old parchments. Just that one you're reading."

"The Tale of the Three Brothers?" She nodded. "She read that story from a bunch of parchments?" She nodded again, more impatiently. "You must've lost it all after…" He trailed off and let silence fill the compartment while waiting for her to finish for him.

At first, she hesitated answering him—that nagging voice in the back of her head told her not to tell him anything. She should've listened to that voice.

She could hardly help herself when she met Tom's gaze, her head went blank and she started to speak without meaning to. "Nothing's lost. It's all in my mother's vault—my vault."

Her head felt too heavy for her to hold high. She shut her eyes, laying down her head on his shoulder. She shouldn't have said that.

"I'll continue where I left off." Cordelia didn't react and he took that as a sign to carry on. "Death stepped aside and let them cross. Time passed and soon the three brothers went their separate ways. The eldest travelled on for a week or more, and reached a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. With the elder wand…with the elder wand in hand, he couldn't fail and challenged his rival to a duel, leaving him dead."

"With his rival dead, the eldest bragged about his victory to all who were there. That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest as he slept, his senses dulled and belly full of wine. The thief stole the wand and slit the eldest brother's throat. And so cunning Death returned for the eldest first."

"That's why my father used to say no one should want more power." Cordelia commented. "It only leads to terrible things…like what happened to the eldest brother. If only he asked for something less…"

Tom made a sound of disagreement. "That's not…no, I don't think that's right. The eldest's only mistake was using his gift for stupid reasons like winning a fight." He argued, a little too passionately.

"I think he was stupid for asking for an unbeatable wand." The eldest should've asked for something else. Maybe knowledge. No one could ever go wrong with knowledge. "He was stupid for showing it off like that too. Should've shut up and kept that wand locked away and maybe studied a way to replicate it."

"Or raise an army."

Cordelia couldn't help but laugh at Tom's words. "Then he'd meet the same end. Someone or a small group from his army could easily betray him." She said as Tom flinched at her words.

"You think so?" He questioned and she lowered her head in response.

"His army wouldn't be loyal to him. Some would be loyal, sure." But she couldn't see all being loyal. "Some might care for him. But all would fear them and fear is temporary. One day, one or two could get the courage to do what that thief did and then it's all over."

Tom played with curled tips of her hair while humming in response. His hums were low and cold, sending shivers down her spine, stopping her from moving.

"...Always…so perceptive." She could've sworn he heard him say but when she looked at him, his attention was solely on the book in his hand, reciting the tale under his breath and waiting for her to finish her rude interruptions.

"Done?" He asked without lifting his attention off the book.

She swallowed nervously and averted her gaze. He smiled a little, carrying on playing with her hair. "The second brother journeyed back to his own home, where he lived alone. He took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand, thinking of the one he once loved and—"

Tom stopped abruptly. His words died in his throat and for the first time in her life, she noticed him struggling to carry on. He wasn't emotional or anything but there was something else, something that was holding him back. His face, though blank, gave nothing away but his eyes looked pained.

"Tom." She softly called out and the pained look in his eyes was washed away as he looked at her, almost…fondly. "You're not reading." She snapped.

"I don't like this one." He said, already turning the page but she lifted her head and grabbed his wrist. "Cora. Let go. I don't like this one."

"I don't care." She forced him to turn back the pages to where he left off. "You already started it, finish it. You should always finish what you start, Tom."

"You said you knew the story."

"I do." She admitted, letting go of him. "But I haven't heard it in a while and you already started the story so just continue where you left off. I'm sure you were interested in the ending too or…" She laid her head back down on his tensed shoulders. The moment her head touched his shoulder, he seemed to relax. "...or maybe you're more interested in the gifts Death left them."

"You're not?"

"Maybe but I wouldn't want any of it."

"Not even the cloak."

She hesitated, rolling her tongue back and forth in her mouth, trying to decide what to say before she said words that sounded more like a question than an answer. "Who knows?"

Tom didn't say anything but she could picture him rolling his eyes in response to her.

"Carry on."

"Fine." He growled and smoothed the page he was reading. "He took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand, thinking of the one he once loved and—" Once again he stopped where he'd left off before. Cordelia was just about to complain when he sucked in a breath and continued. "—promised to marry before…her untimely death."

He took another break and neither spoke for a while. Only the muffled chatter from outside could be heard. She felt uncomfortable.

Tom broke the sudden silence between the two. "Did you…ever think about what Professor Vablatsky said?"

"She said a lot of things." She said slowly. "I thought about the tree and the snake a lot."

"No, not that part." He wasn't satisfied with her answer. "The part about taking a path you've taken before."

"Oh." She'd been avoiding thinking about it. Writing it all down in her diary, she'd hoped to come back to it one day. Maybe it'd be too late by then. "I didn't…I didn't think about that one." She didn't want to.

"You didn't want to." Said Tom like he'd just read her mind. "I'll…carry on."

"Thank you." She stared blankly at the polished wooden ceiling of their compartment.

"The girl he'd longed for appeared before his very own eyes. Yet to his despair, she was cold to touch and so sad that all she did was…weep." He paused again, their eyes meeting, his fingers twisting around her locks, tugging at them. "He could not touch her, a veil separated them. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered."

"The second brother, driven mad by longing and regret, hung himself so that he could join her across the…veil."

The ache in her chest got worse and for a second, she couldn't breathe. She didn't let Tom know as she bit her tongue to stop herself from letting out a pained gasp.

"Death claimed the second brother." Tom let out a sharp breath and nodded to himself as he finished the part about the second brother. "A fool." He muttered.

"Isn't that everyone in love?" She quietly questioned. "Peggy calls people in love 'fools'."

Tom snorted, his unease fading a little. "That's funny."

"Right? She could take a look in the mirror when she's with Robbie." Cordelia smiled as she spoke, the ache dissipating little by little. "But I do feel bad for the second brother."

"Why? He took his own life. His death was his own fault. He couldn't bear the loneliness after asking for such a useless gift."

"It's not a useless gift." She argued. "He just couldn't handle the truth."

"The truth that he'd lost the one thing he wanted."

"Exactly. Love drives people insane."

"Then I don't need love."

"Nobody says that, Tom." She retorted. "Everyone wants love. If it's not wanted, it's needed. It's just the way of life. Besides, if it's not love that'll drive a man insane then it'll be power."

"...what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the eldest…" She looked at him and he nodded. "What'd you think I was talking about?"

"Nothing." He turned the page. "Though Death took two of his brothers, Death could not find the youngest. He searched high and low, years turned to decades and still the youngest couldn't be found."

"Only when the youngest had reached a great age, did he take his cloak off and passed it down to his son." Cordelia had interrupted him again. "His time had come and he met the cloaked spectre once more. He greeted Death like an old friend and followed him across the veil."

"There's nothing about the veil in here."

"Well, they've got it wrong." Cordelia said as Tom shut the book. "So what'd you think? It's not my favourite but almost everyone knows this one."

"I think…the eldest had the right idea but he was stupid. The youngest didn't really care about humiliating death but rather wanted to see his lover and the youngest…was a coward."

Cordelia scoffed, outraged at Tom's analysis that she stood up. Tom pulled her back to her seat. "You've got it all wrong." She said, crossing her arms. "The youngest wasn't a coward."

"So you've been told." He mused, tucking his book back into his satchel that once belonged to Robbie. Even his carved initials could be seen on the underside of the leather satchel. "He was a coward." He repeated with more conviction. "He hid from Death."

Clouds rumbled above them as a sudden curtain of darkness was dropped on the station. They heard muffled gasps of surprises mixed in with girlish and boyish shrieks.

"He didn't hide from Death." Cordelia argued. "If he was hiding from Death then how'd he start a family? Death couldn't find him, not because he was wearing the cloak with him all the time but rather he wasn't testing Death."

"He was still a coward."

"For not challenging Death like his brothers?"

"Yes."

"No, he was smart." She dug her nails into her seat as thunder rumbled above. "He was wary of Death from the start. The reason why Death couldn't find him wasn't all to do with that cloak of his."

"Then why couldn't Death find him."

"Because he was living." Cordelia grinned, her eyes lighting up in excitement. "Death can't touch the living, Tom. Life and Death are opposites. Life can't touch the dead and—"

"Death cannot touch the living."

She clicked her fingers. "Exactly. Death couldn't find him because he was doing what his brothers should've done but they were so caught up with the future and the past that they didn't see what was right in front of them."

"The present." Tom breathed out. His eyes wide and his mouth agape like everything she was telling him was a revelation.

"The key to defeating Death is to live."

"But he still died."

"But he lived." She reminded him. "He had a family and a legacy that'll carry on his story even when he's gone. It's funny in a way. His oldest brother was obsessed with the future but his life was cut the shortest. The middle brother was stuck in the past, unable to move on so he met Death not too early but not on time but the youngest who only wanted to cross the bridge had everything his brothers didn't."

"A long life?" Tom slowly leaned closer to her in the dark like a predator moving in on its prey. "He still died." He reminded her once again.

"Yes but he lived his life to the fullest and met Death when he was ready. Not to mention, he had a family, something that will carry on his name. In a way, he got what his oldest brother wanted."

Tom stopped and stared at her blankly, letting her words seep in. His lips quivered into a scowl and he looked away. He didn't understand what she was saying.

"I still think the eldest was right, he was just stupid enough to brag about it." Tom quietly said and Cordelia shook her head.

"Then you didn't understand the story at all." She replied, leaning back into her seat and checking if the lights were back on yet. Thunder rumbled above them once more. "You should read something else."

"I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were."

"No, but you're treating me like I am because I disagreed with what you said." Tom leaned back into his seat, dropping his heavy head on her shoulders. "I just think the eldest had the most potential…"

And Cordelia stopped listening for a moment. Her mind was foggy once again, Tom was speaking to her but she couldn't hear him or anything.

When the fog cleared, she could only see Tom's face in the dim daylight as clouds cackled above them and drops of rain started to pelt against the window. His face scrunched up like he was troubled over something.

"Cora—" Tom was about to speak but he was cut off when the door to their compartment opened.