CHAPTER TWO

.  .  .

ENOCH'S FREE HAND remains against his ferret's fur, who titters anxiously from his shoulder. The white animal's claws are digging through his shirt—an old one, a comfortable one, with a print so faded it's hard to make out exactly what it once was—as he ensures he isn't pushed off during all the commotion. The ferret, whose name remains Ferret as he has given no indication of what he'd like for a name, seems to reflect his owner's own feelings, as they grip tightly to one another.

"You could skip the train, if you want." Odeda suggests as she once again watches her son, taking notice of the way his body has tensed and his eyes refuse to stay still. He's licking his lips again, repeatedly, which she's always taken as a sign of taste overload. But still, he quickly shakes his head.

"I'm fine." Odeda doesn't need an empathetic power to tell her son is really freaking out, and probably not fine. But she can see that blaze of determination—the same his father gets, and she will admit to possessing—in his eyes and immediately knows there's no point arguing. He's made his decision, and will stick with it for as long as he can.

"Write me letters, okay? Heaps of them." Alistair says as they begin saying their farewells, pulling Enoch into a tight hug, "And smuggle me back some of the wizard food." A muffled chuckle comes from within the older man's shoulder. They continue to hug for a few more moments, only separated by a prompting nudge from Odeda. "I'll miss you, kiddo. Look after yourself."

Then, Odeda pulls Enoch into a hug and the young boy knows he's going to miss the herbal tea. It brings a brief moment of quiet amongst all the noise of emotions, and he drinks it in. His mother whispers words of encouragement into his hair, before placing on final kiss on the top of his head.

"Now go get on the train," The dark haired woman smiles, giving him a light shove in that direction. As they both wave goodbye, Enoch reluctantly pushes himself through the crowd of parting families and makes his way to the carriage entrance. He takes one last glance back at his smiling parents, both still waving, and his ferret squeaks in encouragement. Taking a deep breath, Enoch does it; he boards the train and leaves the family he's never actually left before.

For a while, Enoch thinks he might spend the train trip in the sole company of Ferret. Which wouldn't be so bad, if he didn't feel so terrifyingly lonely that he genuinely desires the mess of emotions. His stomach is still churning, and he knows this belongs to him. There's no one around for him to get a reading of and it's only on rare occasions that his powers work through walls. But, fortunately, the carriage door slides open and a face peers in. Warmth radiates through the carriage, originating from the girl intruding.

"Can I sit here?" She asks, pointing at the seat across from the male. The brunet hurries to nod his head, and then wonders if he looks too eager—too desperate. Ferret, who is curled up asleep on his lap, gets two nervous hands scratching absentmindedly at his fur, rolling the individual strands against each other underneath his fingers. The pet opens his eyes for a moment, before deciding to ignore his owner.

The stranger doesn't seem to notice or care about the speed of Enoch's response as she smiles widely with a, "Great!", and opens the door up a little wider for her to squeeze through. She's soon settled across from Enoch, slouched slightly as she gets relaxed, while the younger male remains sitting uncomfortable straight.

"I'm Gee," The girl introduces herself, hand extended. Immediately, Enoch internally cringes, bracing himself for the incoming onslaught. Skin touches skin and the brunet experiences a flash of the warmth of lazing in the sun, the taste of fresh oranges and their sticky juice, and expensive perfume. And then it's gone, replaced by the comforting quiet of Ferret's sleepiness. "My name's actually Gertrude but that's a terrible name so please don't call me that, ever. I will hex you."

"I'm Enoch," The younger male mumbles as he fidgets uncomfortably, fingers once again running through Ferret's fur. The pet just sighs, rolling over slightly so his human can get a better spot on his belly. Gee's expression brightens a fraction.

"Gee and E—we match!" Enthusiasm radiates from this girl in a way that's almost overwhelming, causing Enoch to retreat further into his seat. He's never experienced such a bright company before—she'd rival even his father's disposition. Watching her, watching the way a smile that looks natural and not forced stays ever present on her face in a way that Enoch swears would make his cheeks her, the brunet is amazed—possibly even in awe. He'd like to be like this girl.

"So," Gee breaks through the silence as she leans forward, dark curls of hair bouncing lightly as she rubs the back of her head to remove potential seat hair, "What year are you in?"

"Uh, sixth?" His voice is laced with uncertainty though he knows for a fact he's in his sixth year—it's been mentioned enough times that it's been drilled into his head. The boy quickly clears his throat, nods, and in a slightly more confident voice repeats himself, "Yeah, sixth year."

But his answer causes Gee's brow to furrow in apparent confusion, only confirmed by a fuzzy inability to focus that he's always associated with that emotion. Immediately, Enoch attempts to recall what he has said, to try and confirm that he has indeed said sixth year and he definitely is in sixth year—isn't he? There's always the chance he could be wrong. Maybe he should have been less certain when he spoke.

"But I'm in that year," The dark haired girl states, brow still furrowed, "And I certainly don't remember you."

Relief floods through the empath's body, but it doesn't quite dampen the butterflies' wings. He nods briefly, acknowledging her statement, "I'm new."

"In year six?" Enoch nods again, feeling a verbal 'no' unnecessary. "Are you from another country? Oh! Did you study at Ilvermony? Or..." Gee chuckles as she pauses for a moment. "Yeah, I don't know any other schools—oh, except of Beaubaxton and Durmstrang, of course."

"I– I didn't go to school." The brunet can feel his cheeks growing warm from the temperature the girl is radiating, but thankfully that decreases slightly when he seems to provide the less exciting response. He feels guilty, wishing he could give her the correct response.

"So you just, started? How does that work? Do you even know magic?" Gee frowns again. "Hogwarts isn't really letting just anyone in, are they? You're not a Squib, are you? Or a muggle?"

Is Enoch supposed to address all these questions? He doesn't know. His mouth opens for a second, and then closes. How does he answer this? Frowning, he tries again. Then, he just shakes his head—no. Ferret nudged the brunet's hand, which stopped patting him a while ago, and slides underneath it. The animal settles again, but the quiet brings him comfort, helps clear his head.

"I was homeschooled." Enoch can already preempt her next question—why?—so he starts thinking. Does he explain it all, or just bits of it? He's not sure if it's supposed to be a secret or not. "I'm not good with people. They... I get too nervous to function properly. Maman and Papa thought I probably wouldn't have been able to learn properly too."

Comprehension bursts from the girl in a dizzying wave as she nods, the smile spreading across her lips again. A small noise of understanding leaves her lips, which she follows with, "I understand."

Silence follows this. Sitting there, awkwardly, Enoch opens his mouth and takes a short, sharp intake of breath as though he's going to say something. But instead his mouth shuts, and nothing is said. Silence continues for a few more seconds, getting dangerously close to a minute's silence. The brunet look like he's going to speak again, but all that follows is a frustrated frown. Quietly, he picks at Ferret's fur.

"So, have you been sorted into a house yet?"

The empath gives a short nod, "Hufflepuff." With this answer, Gee's smile grows wider—how? Enoch does not know.

"Me too! That's great then; you've already got a friend who can get you settled." A small smile hesitantly curls across the younger's lips. While it does nothing to rival the constant smile on Gee's lips, it does certainly make Enoch feel quite pleasant. "There's plenty of nice people in Hufflepuff. You'll get settled quickly."

"Thank you," mumbles the empath, though his words carry so much more gratitude than he can convey. Thank you for sitting here, for being nice, and for talking to me even though you don't know me and I'm terrible at talking. Thank you for calling yourself my friend even though we just met, for making me feel like starting school might not be so bad.

But because Enoch dare not say all of that, he just smiles. And pats his Ferret.

. . .

After arriving at Hogwarts, they all file into the Great Hall, where they sit at their house's table and catch up with one another. Amongst the excited crowd, Enoch is bumped between people, experiencing snapshots of a multitude of emotions, before Gee thankfully grabs him by the wrist—overpowering the chorus of emotional noise with her summery oranges and sunshine—and leads him to two free seats.

"First dinner is always great." Gee claims as she takes her seat, so confident in her belief that Enoch believes her without having even tried the food. He hopes it's good—he'd hate to be surviving off bad food for a whole year. He already knows it won't be as good as his mother's cooking, but he'll settle for just good.

As a buzzing chatter settles over the room, Gee begins greeting her friends that sit down around her. They're all introduced to Enoch as well, but there's so many new names and faces that he's unable to retain them all. He just smiles, answers when he's spoken to, and continues to take in his surroundings. One of the people he meets laughs when he sees Ferret, nudging Gee as he says, "Remember when Malfoy was turned into a ferret?" Enoch is then filled with concern, wondering how frequently a student is transformed into an animal. The others, however, just see it as one thoroughly amusing joke and the whole table bursts out in raucous laughter.

Unable to help himself, his gaze continually returns to the ceiling, enchanted to look like the sky, and the candles that float above it. A bit dramatic, he thinks, but still amazing. He's literally never seen anything like it—unless of course you count the glass ceiling of his grandparents' greenhouse back in France. But even that, in all its glory, barely holds a candle to this. He feels like the first years making their way in—in awe, amazed that such a place isn't the product of his hopeful dreams. It almost blocks out the others' emotions.

First years get sorted into their houses differently to the way Enoch: they sit in front of the whole school, in front of the burning, curious stares, and have the strange talking hat placed on their heads. Some sit for what feels like minutes, with cheeks burning red with embarrassment, before they're assigned to a house and others are chosen within the second it's placed on their head. Enoch, on the other hand, was sorted in the privacy of his own home when the headmaster (he soon realises) visited, and was almost immediate. Enoch thinks he prefers his own Sorting.

Soon after, everyone is digging into their meals, taking from the range of food that appears on their tables. Enoch takes a piece of chicken at Gee's recommendation and bites into it, chewing slowly and carefully. Just good would be one way of describing this chicken; not his mother's, another. Not even his father's, who, despite attempts to develop his skills in the kitchen, never quite achieved the same level of deliciousness as Odeda Desrosiers. (He makes really good desserts, however—probably reflective of his taste for them).

But, Enoch can't handle the thought of going to bed hungry and sticks to eating some vegetable pastries placed directly in front of him, like some sort of sign. In a pleasant twist, he finds himself enjoying these more than anticipated.

Dessert, naturally, follows. Enoch grabs a apple tart from the platter in front of him and eats that quietly. He continues to watch Gee and the others around him converse, while trying to keep his focus primarily on how the apple tart tastes, and ignoring the many other flavours interrupting his meal, like he does usually at home. But it's a lot harder than at home, where he only has two other people compared to the probably hundreds here.

Over dessert, the girl sitting beside Gee—a blonde that hugged the other girl the second she saw her—leans across and whispers to her friend, "By the way, I love your perfume. Is it new?" And Gee nods, telling her it was a souvenir from her parents' trip overseas, and proceeds to recount a few stories from said trip. But Enoch zones out, confused. He'd thought the perfume was an aspect of her emotions, a sign of something that he can't label. But if this girl can smell it– well, it's highly unlikely she's an empath with the exact same powers as Enoch, and Gee has clearly wearing some.

Now he's not sure what other times he might have confused emotions with real things.

Hufflepuff dorms are by the kitchen. Which he already knew, it's just nice to be able to actually see where they are. Despite this place being a castle, he feels like maybe he won't yet as lost as he thought he might.

The prefect explains to the first years—and, unknowingly, Enoch himself—the rules of the dorms and where everything is located. Looking around, the brunet can see younger students eager to go to bed after an exciting first evening. But, before anyone can leave to their beds, the prefect makes one final announcement, "We have welcome brownies," and he casts a spell to conjure up the platters of freshly prepared brownies from the nearby kitchen. (Unfortunately, he miscounted, conjuring one platter too many, and, somewhere in the world, someone just lost their brownies).

Everyone takes a brownie, chattering happily amongst themselves. The sweetness in the air increases, making the empath reluctant to take even more sugar in the form of a brownie, but before he can say anything, Gee has put one in his hand. He eats it, slowly, and immediately misses his father's brownies. Despite the sugary sweetness of everyone else's happiness, Enoch can't help but feel very, very sad.

"Alright?" Gee asks, nudging the younger lightly with her shoulder. A burst of oranges combine with the brownie, creating a Jaffa-like aftertaste.

"Yeah, it's good." To prove it, Enoch takes another bite of his chocolate dessert. Gee smiles slightly.

"No, I mean are you alright?"

"Oh." Enoch takes another bite and nods. "Yeah."

"You know you can tell me, if you're not. We're friends now, remember?" Enoch nods again. Maybe, eventually, he'll take her up on that offer. But not today.