Chapter Text
It never rained like this back at home, or at least not this early into fall anyway. The ‘drizzle’ is relentless on my back, and my hoodie is already becoming damp, much to my irritation. My mother is chirping at me about how wonderful this experience is going to be for me, that I’ll get to meet new people and make lots of friends. All of that typical, cliché, bullshit that parents give you when they throw you into something they know, full well, that you are going to hate. I am currently bent over the open trunk of my moms Sedan, trying to unload my obnoxiously heavy trunk here at Cross-King-Whatever-It-Is Station, my messenger bag is slung over my shoulder that conveniently keeps slipping and getting in the way, all the while my mother watches from under her umbrella.
We just moved here from Lyon, France, well not just just, I’ve lived here in London since the end of June. We moved into a flat in Westminster, the view is nice at night, but it still doesn’t have the welcoming feel like Lyon did. I mean sure, they have that palace thing and that giant clock, but the Festival of Lights will always trump those. We moved because my mother took up a job at the Ministry of Magic as the head of the Improper Use of Magic Department. She’s worked with them before when cases have spanned across the Channel, and I’ve been here before. When I was little, she would bring me with her on her business trips and call them vacations. I liked them of course, it was always new and there was always something to do, but this is different. This is now apparently home and not a vacation. But God do I wish it was.
My mom at least has the decency to bring me a trolly, and as I deposit my things on the squeaky slab of metal on wheels, my glare just radiates. She continues on about how nice things will be, how the headmaster is kind and I shouldn’t have any trouble, how they have this unique set up of houses and that I can play quidditch. As I wheel my way through the crowded station, my mother babbles in French as she trots at my heel. Water is dripping from my bangs, and I can feel where the rain has soaked though my hoodie near the small of my back and I only scowl harder, like there is some major wrinkle production happening right now. I’m pretty sure everyone around me thinks I look like I’m either about to kill someone, or that I’m constipated; I’ll take the former.
“How do we get to the platform again?” I growl through gritted teeth. I have to remind myself to prefer English, even when just speaking to my mom. I’ve been able to speak it since I was little, but I never really used it much back at home, and frankly I don’t want to risk embarrassing myself more than I probably will when I ask for directions in a language other students aren’t going to understand; and thankfully my accent has thinned over the summer, I’ve had enough strangers ask me how to say something in French. At this point I just call them ‘Leprechaun Taint’ and tell them it means ‘Lovely weather’.
I see her point at a wall that divides platforms nine and ten and stare. “Just gotta run through there” she says encouragingly, giving my shoulder a light pat. Apparently I’m about to run through a wall. This is just wonderful, my clothes are soaked, I’m freezing, the train is going to leave soon, and now I have to run through this hunk of brick and cement without anyone watching. My mother receives that look, you know, the one that accurately portrays ‘you’re shitting me?’ She just smiles and nods, and with a huff, I try to act as casual as possible when walking toward a supposed-solid-object.
For some reason, they decided to make a brick wall the entrance. I’ll give whoever thought of that some credit for creativity, but I’ve never been more anxious about people discovering magic as I walk through a fucking wall with my mother following behind me. Maybe they’d think I’m a ghost, I’m okay with that actually. I’d be the sickest ghost to ever not-live. The platform, dubbed nine and three quarters is loud and bustling, everything that makes my social anxiety scream. Students are darting in and out of a giant ass, red train (that actually looks cool, I’ll admit) that decided to make today the day I go deaf with its warning whistle. I have five minutes to get my stuff and my butt on that thing, and I don’t think my mother will be helping. “I’ll put my stuff up, stay right here, I’ll be back in a minute” I say over my shoulder glancing at my mom who seems mesmerized by this secret platform.
Shouldering my way through the crowd of people, I manage to somehow heave my trunk through one of the doors of a carriage close to the train. The small walkway is filled with shrieks and laughter, to my left is a compartment filled with some students that look to be my age and a bit more official. I hear the word “prefects” spoken by some blond beef cake during a short lull in noise before continuing on, I don’t exactly want to risk interacting with He-Man. I miss, and appreciate more that I ever have in my life, suitcases with wheels as I drag my things, searching for a compartment that’s empty. Near the end, one gleaming beckon of vacancy waits for me to occupy it and I hurl myself through the open door. I quickly (well, as quick as I can with my poor excuse for muscles) shove my stuff up on the racks above the seats and drop my messenger bag on the bench next to the window and take a breath before going back out into the chaos.
Out in the walkway, I notice the door to Hulk’s compartment slide open. Blond Coconut Head, and Blessed-By-Aphrodite step out, saying something about having to find an Eren, whoever the hell that is, and finally is some dude with freckles who decides to acknowledge my existence, and give me this saintly smile and wave. I try to return the smile the best I can but I’m fairly certain that it just looks like I'm having some sever pain.
I’m back out on the platform with a minute to spare, and scan through through the thinning crowd of parents for my mother. I catch her looking for me and rush to her, knowing my last bit of home is about to leave as soon as I get back on that train. I hug her tight, startling her, but I feel an arm wrap around me and another bring her fingers to cart through my sandy-blond hair. I know I’m going to miss the fuck out of this lady. “Be good and try to make some friends. Professor Hanji will meet you at the station and you’ll speak with Professor Smith before the welcoming ceremony, okay? I’ll send your broom with Pyro tonight with whatever you forgot so you’ll have it by morning” she says gently, cupping my face and bringing me down to place a kiss on my forehead. “I love you, I’ll miss you, and I’ll see you at Christmas, okay?” she says with a gentle smile. All I can do is nod before the whistle sounds again and she’s nudging me back towards the train.
I nearly get slapped by a parent who waves energetically at their child, and I am the last go through the door before it is shut and locked behind me. The Rock has the cabin to himself now with sweaty and angry, a few down from them is Blessed-By-Aphrodite and Blond Coconut Head who have apparently found their Eren, some guy who looks awful pretentious and aggressive. As I pass the filled compartments and watch my peers laugh, joke, and talk about their summer break, I can’t help but feel depressed, knowing that what awaits me is an empty cabin and a lot of silence.
I, Jean Kirstein, feel more than I ever have in my entire life, completely and utterly alone.