The stars that shine are brilliant against the ink-black sky that surrounds them- near blinding. They are beautiful and yet utterly out of place against the empty, colorless sky. The other students pass me by as I linger to stare up at the sky, feet dragging.
“Epsilon,” says Viktor. “Come on. Are you alright?” He speaks in Russian, of course.
I look over at him and match his pace. “Of course. Are you?”
Viktor gives a gloomy shrug. “I’m fine, I suppose.” I watch him as he stares ahead of him, mind clearly preoccupied. He’s been down since he lost the Quidditch match, but I knew it ran deeper than that; I knew Viktor too well to believe it was just that.
We clamber into the ship together and below deck with our luggage. We nab a two-person bedroom together and bunker down; we’ll be at sea for eight days, and our classes will continue.
“I can’t believe they’ve allowed you to come with us,” Viktor says. “You are only sixteen.”
“I’ve been emancipated,” I say, thinking of Nova. “Legally, I am an adult, regardless of age.”
“Are you going to try for it? To be the champion?”
“I haven’t decided. Are you?”
“Yes,” Viktor says sternly, though he doesn’t really seem happy about it- almost resigned. I look at him curiously.
“Do you mind if I put my name in?”
“No,’’ Viktor says amusedly, reclining on his bed. “Though I know you will get it before I do.”
“You don’t know that,” I argue.
“I do.”
I give him a stern look. “Well, regardless- we’re going to help each other, no matter which of us win- if either of us at all- right?”
“Of course,” he says, looking almost offended that I had asked. “I haven’t spent six years with you on my coattails to throw you to the wolves now.”
I give him a bitter, but lighthearted, smile, and recline as well, looking up at the wooden ceiling. “You’re better at Potions and Transfiguration than I am,” I say.
“And you are better at everything else than I am. Especially Charms.”
“Mmm.”
“How does it feel to be going to Hogwarts?” Viktor asks after a long pause.
“... It feels strange,” I say softly. I knew my mother had gone there, my father- all of their family. “Nova is excited.”
“You’ve mentioned,” Viktor says. “I am excited to meet your sister.”
“She isn’t my sister,” I say. “Technically, she’s a distant cousin.”
“You were raised together.”
“Still,” I argue. “She is more of a close friend- like you. One could say we were raised together, spending nine months every year together.”
“You are my brother, Epsilon.” His voice is fierce and loving.
I look over at him with a soft, gentle smile. “The sentiment is mutual- with you, Viktor. But still- Nova is my good friend, and not my sister.”
“Well,” Viktor said, his voice mild. “I am excited to meet your good friend.”
Once an hour or so had passed, a bell rang in the distance, signalling meal time, and Viktor and I slowly made our way to the mess hall, avoiding the large crowd and smaller groups of people. Viktor might be the most eligible bachelor in eastern Europe, but here in Durmstrang, he was just another reclusive loner- just like me. We skipped the large table and found one with only three seats, praying no one sat there. Luckily, Karkaroff had to sit with the other teachers coming to supervise the trip, or he likely would have.
“Are you not excited to sit where your parents sat, see what they saw?”
My brow furrowed. “I… Am… Though not exclusively. It is strange- but not all bad.”
“Right,” said Viktor, his eyes urging me on. Karkaroff waved his wand, the plates levitating and dispersing themselves.
“I never knew my father. He died before I was born.”
“I know,”
“And my mother died when I was three- barely three. I have very few memories of her, and my most vivid memory is her dying.”
“Yes.”
“I feel… Disconnected from them. As if they aren’t real so much as- dreams, dreams that I will never have.”
“Mmm,”
“And going there- seeing it and knowing how they lived, what they would have done- will only remind me how unobtainable that dream is.” Our food set itself in front of us, and we were silent as we loaded up our plates. “You’re going to miss Quidditch, I bet.”
“Mmm,” Viktor seems disturbed by that question, so I don’t pursue it. He may pry, but I do not. We eat in silence, then head back to our bunk.
“You will find it to be more happy than you expect it to be, I believe.” Viktor says.
“I hope you’re right, Viktor. I really do.”
The carriage is larger inside than it looked- but, of course, I had assumed it would be. Kreacher follows me inside, and I meet eyes with Fleur, who looks- overwhelmed, surrounded by her friends, beside Madam Maxime. I give her a gentle smirk, and she gives me a playfully rude look in return. I don’t join her, of course- her friends suck. I find my own spot a bit removed, beside a few of my other friends. After we’ve all clambered into the carriage, Maxime stands and clears her throat.
“Bonjour, my pets,” she says, as wistful and overly-personal as ever. “Through that doorway is the dining room, the common room, and beyond that, the dorms. You have all been assigned your homework- if you have not finished it, you will be expected to do so before we arrive.”
She continues to talk for a little while, but as it becomes more and more irrelevant, I zone out more and more. I lean over to Chloe and wonder quietly how long we’re going to have to sit here, but she just giggles softly and shrugs.
“At least the view is pretty,” Axelle adds from my left, and I look out at it- and it is. The abraxans are beautiful and majestic against the night sky, and the fields and old buildings that pepper the landscape are, too.
Eventually, Madame Maxime finishes and dismisses us. The dorms are different from they are at Beauxbatons- there are three people to a room, and three rooms connected to a small living space, and there are six of them, three for girls and three for boys.
Of course, leaving me out. I’d rather be lumped in with girls than boys- if I have to be lumped in at all- so Axelle, Chloe, and Rosalva grabbed one bedroom; Fleur, Toinette, and I grabbed another; Sophie, Manon, and Sacha grabbed the third. We all unpack, and have barely all congregated in our living room before the announcement rings out for dinner. The nine of us make our way to the dining room, sitting close to the rest of Fleur’s friends; they’ll have a fit if she doesn’t spend enough time with them. Judging by their ‘friendly jokes’, they already aren’t very happy that she took her closest friends and ditched them to share a room with me.
“Are you guys going to put your name in the goblet?” Toinette asks- Fleur’s most bearable friend.
“Of course,” Fleur says. “Why else are we here?”
“I’m here for the Yule Ball,” Toinette says. Several girls nod in agreement.
“I’m here to see Hogwarts,” I pipe up. “My parents went there.”
“Right- well,” Fleur says. “That’s reason enough. I’m going to prove myself- prove my ability, my worth.”
“You’re going to get picked, of course,” says Sacha. “Why would any of us bother to go up against you?”
“Oh, please- thank you, but you flatter me.” Fleur says. “You’re all very capable witches. Madame Maxime would not have brought you along otherwise! We’re all equally talented.”
“I’m here for the cute Englishmen,” mutters Sophie sheepishly.
“And the others, from Durmstrang,” Axelle says, her eyes as wicked as ever. “Viktor Krum is certainly going to go… He’s delicious, isn’t he?”
“Oh, my god,” I say, laughing. “You’re ridiculous, Axelle.”
“I’m just saying…”
The rest of them continue on similarly, light-hearted and playful. I look over at Fleur, her pretty, solemn face. She meets my eye and gives me a gentle smile. “What is on your mind, Nova?” she asks.
I shrug, looking back at my plate. “I don’t know,” I say quietly, so the others don’t hear. “Just… Us, and them, and our reasons. Sometimes I feel- very different and out of place around your friends.”
“Believe me, friend- I do, too,” she says. “Hopefully, it will be different at Hogwarts. They’ll be distracted by the Englishmen and the Northerners.”
I laugh gently. “Right, right.”
“What exactly are you expecting to find at Hogwarts?” Fleur asks.
“The truth,” I say quickly. “The past. My parents’ past.”
Kreacher, beside me, begins to mutter about something under his breath- when prompted, he just grows silent and distressed, and I never feel right forcing it out of him. There are other avenues to search before it gets to that point.
“Ah,” Fleur says. “I’ll help you, if I can, anyway that I can.”
“And I’ll help you,” I say. “If you’re a champion.”
Fleur smiles kindly before Toinette grabs her attention.
I’m quiet for the rest of dinner, and after spending an exhausting hour surrounded by the others, joking around, I make my way to bed early in the hopes of falling asleep before I’m not alone anymore.
Surprisingly, it works.