Chapter Text
September, 2012
Guanlin feels sick to the stomach.
He’s not sure if it’s the mountains of candy Seonho had plied him before they boarded, or the fact that he gets travel sick easily. His fingers tap against the window sill to the quiet hum of the train chugging onwards to its destination. He’s restless, antsy.
He watches the scenery pass him by, trying to tune out the noisy chatter of the other boys in the compartment. Seonho bumps into him twice, lacking personal space as usual, but Guanlin sits, face pressed against the glass, unmoving and silent as the train shuttles past.
These meandering lakes, wide expanses of land and sky stretching for miles, hills and valleys dipping and rising -- Even these foreign trees are so different from the trees back home. It’s only been a couple of hours since he’d said his farewells to his family, his mum and dad and elder sister, but he already misses them, misses the bustling Parisian city scapes he’s known since he was born. He already longs for the comfortable claustrophobia of the four walls of his own room.
He’d put on a brave face at the station, scowling deeply at his sister and parents that he’d be fine before boarding the Hogwarts express but the fear bubbles to the surface now. Really, he didn’t want to go to Hogwarts. Seonho’s mother had unhelpfully regaled her own stories of her time at Hogwarts, and her tales from the Gryffindor common room and it’s loud, rambunctious atmosphere had been nothing short of horrifying to Guanlin. But Guanlin’s never been good at making new friends; since they’ve known each other as children, Guanlin’s always relied on Seonho to break the ice. And when his parents had chosen Hogwarts over the other schools, Guanlin was more than glad to tag along behind Seonho.
Even now, it’s Seonho who makes conversation with the other two boys in the compartment, animatedly chatting over his stash of snacks, now splayed out in front of them in full purview and shared amongst all four hungry boys. Guanlin had opened his mouth to talk about his favorite book in an attempt to start conversation with his new companions, but then clamped up just as quickly when they give him puzzled looks.
Seonho’s bubbly and easy to get along with. Guanlin’s a little odd, laughing when it’s not supposed to be funny, enjoying cool nights curled up on the couch with a good book when Seonho goes out to play quidditch or something outdoorsy. He is acutely aware of how different the two of them are and how likely it is for them to be placed apart (Apart! His head yells in a variety of voices he tries to drown out.). And then maybe Guanlin would be alone till death, dying alone in a ditch with his books and tears for days.
He wants to dry heave into his shirt, or maybe cry, but the thought of doing either in public sounds awfully embarrassing to eleven year old Guanlin, so he swallows the rising tears and carelessly grabs a handful of Seonho’s every flavor beans and stuffs it in his mouth.
The result is cataclysmic.
Guanlin ends up throwing up on his feet from the taste of vomit flavoured beans, mixed with liver and peppermint and what he thinks might be earwax. Seonho throws him a look of alarm over a mouthful of corned beef sandwich. Justin Huang, who they’d met at the station, tries hard to hide his disgust with a rather undignified snort and a sympathetic look. Kim “everywhere-else is full” Samuel, laughs aloud, guffawing so hard he flops right onto Justin’s lap, much to the other boy’s dismay.
“Might want to call a prefect,” Samuel tries between peals of laughter, his tone somewhat wry.
Guanlin is mortified , and he sniffs, eyes watering and red as he tries not to let the tears fall. Seonho nods vigorously, and Justin barrels out compartment door to yell for help.
A tall boy strides in moments later, a rather red-looking Justin in tow. With a flourish of his wand, he vanishes the little pool of vomit without a trace.
“There, all good as new,” he turns Guanlin around with a gentle hand to inspect the damage, “First year?”
Guanlin is still distraught so Seonho nods vigorously, glasses askew, swallowing hard on his mouthful of food as he struggles explain. Samuel beats him to the punch anyway, calmly regaling the unfortunate incident to the Ravenclaw prefect.
“Ah, tough luck kid,” the taller boy grimaces, ruffling his head, “I’ll take care of him. You three should get changed soon, we’ll be reaching in a bit.”
The prefect gently guides him out the compartment to wash his face. His name is Minhyun and he’s a seventh year, Guanlin learns, and he’s really, really nice. Guanlin still feels sort of queasy in the gut, but Minhyun tells him stories of his own first year to get him to calm down.
Guanlin doesn’t quite open up easily, but the elder boy’s manner is easy and his words light and everything comes spewing out in a chunkful of garbled words (English is hard, okay!), and tears. He sags when he’s done, relieved at last.
Minhyun laughs so hard at Guanlin’s last comment about Hogwart’s strict curriculum he nearly falls out of his seat. Minhyun tells him about charms and transfiguration, about the lovely head of house Professor BoA, and how despite having high standards of education, as long as Guanlin works hard, he’ll do well. He talks about new theories and possibilities, his hands in the air with a flourish that makes Guanlin feels vaguely less like the oddball he is .
Minhyun wipes away his snot with a magicked handkerchief and then promptly vanishes it with a wandless wave. Guanlin stares, enthralled.
“Ah, that? You’ll learn it one day too,” Minhyun winks, smiling.
Guanlin thinks Minhyun is the coolest ever, and babbles his thanks to Minhyun as the elder boy guides him back to his compartment.
He already feels better by heaps, and by the time the train rolls to a stop in front of the castle, most of his fear and nervousness have been replaced by a feeling of wonderment and awe. He bumps into Minhyun again as they get off the train, this time with a tall and pretty girl -- another Ravenclaw prefect, he notes, glancing at the shiny golden badge pinned to her chest. It’s the girl who guides them into the little boats to cross the lake. Guanlin is a little disappointed it’s not Minhyun, but Minhyun waves at Guanlin with a grin, cheering him on as the girl-prefect tries to herd the bunch of them forwards.
Guanlin thinks he might want to be someone like Minhyun one day.
“Isn’t he cool !” He bursts out. Seonho laughs, practically dragging him to sit beside him before the enchanted boats move off.
Minhyun’s form gets smaller and smaller in the distance, the dark greys of their school robes blending in together, fading to black. The foggy night coaleses in his vision until all he can see are the bright shiny lights of Hogwarts in the distance. This is it, he thinks, staring up at the castle, it’s turrets and old brick walls massive in view. The place reeks of history; great people have walked here, he thinks, and so much magic in store to discover and learn. One day, he’ll learn it all.
A new adventure awaits him, and Guanlin cannot wait to begin.