━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
PROLOGUE | RETURN TO HOGWARTS
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ DON'T FORGET, FUN AND EDUCATION IS WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO SCHOOL FOR! ❞

∞

ISAAC COLLAN WAS NERVOUS. Even though the nausea and shaky breath were not unfamiliar, it still brought great discomfort. Every year, Isaac would walk through countless of barriers, from Scotland all the way to London, only to arrive at Kings' Cross station. His hands were damp, gripped tightly around the handles of the cart that carried his luggage and pet cat, causing his knuckles to turn ghostly white and the veins on his arms and hands show prominently. His mind was racing, Isaac was worrying about his O.W.L.S. and grades in general. Not for a second could his mind shut up and it was driving him crazy. He wanted the screaming voices inside his head to stop. Isaac felt as if it wouldn't take much longer before he would entirely lose it.

"This is ridiculous," his mother, Bridget Collan, hissed under her breath, pulling Isaac out of his train of thoughts. It was almost like a yearly tradition, for Isaac's mother to complain about the transportation to Hogwarts. "Why let us go from Scotland to London, only for you to go back to Scotland?" It was always the same complaint and Isaac would always answer with a simple, "I don' know, mum." Bridget's stilletto heels clicked on the polished ground in a rapid pace, her neat black pencil dress fitting tightly on her body and her chestnut brown hair was cut to shoulder length, styled in a way that was, what Bridget liked to call, 'desirable', but for Isaac, it didn't look any worse or better than previously.

 Isaac had noticed she was quieter than usual and her rant on the transportation was cut short. It was obviously that his mother was nervous about her job interview that would be in an hour. Bridget kept glancing down at her watch, only to see that a few seconds had passed. Her breath was slightly shaky and small beads of sweat decorated her forehead, something that Isaac recognised a bit too well. 

Isaac found it hard to keep up with the middle aged woman, despite his condition being, what he thought, fairly well. His sprint made it barely possible for him to walk next to his mother through the last barrier. With closed eyes, he charged towards the wall, walking through it without colliding against the cobblestones. He had always wondered what there was inside the barrier, what would happen if instead of walking straight through it, he had turned his direction? Would he get on an entirely different platform? Or would he be stuck? It wasn't worth thinking about, because it felt like Isaac had only taken one step through the barrier and he was out  on the other side, where his nose was filled with the gasses that came from the deep red train, halted on the rails and waiting to depart. Students were talking with their parents, meeting up with friends or trying to get their luggage inside. It was chaotic, but it was good. Not the type to freak Isaac out. He felt at home, just by seeing the platform.

Finally, Bridget halted and turned around to face Isaac. Her neatly and recently trimmed eyebrows were furrowed together, her red painted lips pressed tightly on each other into a thin line. "Promise to behave?" It was a ridiculous question and Bridget knew it, but she needed to hear from Isaac that he was going to, before she could worry less. Confirmation avoids confrontation.

"I promise," Isaac nodded, a miniscule smile appearing. He pushed his cart aside, opening his arms to pull his mother in. "Are you gon' be fine?" he asked in a worried tone in his mother's hair. His mother's state was worsening every day and Isaac felt worthless that he couldn't help with anything. Bridget nodded her head and Isaac let out a sigh, before unwillingly letting go of his mother. "I'll write, as much as I can." He had known from experience that he could sometimes write every day and even want to write more, bombarding his mother with his letter— but there were also times that it was impossible for Isaac to even lift a quill, he would be too tired and unable to lie to his mother, tell her he was fine when he really wasn't.

 And Bridget knew that and she wanted to give Isaac as much space as she could, hoping he would figure it out on his own. If he couldn't, he would force himself to tell her so they could work it out together. Just like her, Isaac was stubborn. He wanted to be independent. 

"And so will I." She pulled him in for another hug, and despite her fragile frame, she managed to embrace Isaac tighter than he could ever do. Isaac felt like he couldn't breath as a result of the tight grip, but it wasn't unpleasant nor uncomfortable. It made him feel safe and freed him from his worries for a small moment. "Your friend's comin' this way," Bridget whispered in Isaac's ear, after brushing a strand of his mousy brown hair away. She released her son from the tight grip and stepped behind, watching how a small blonde girl launched herself onto Isaac's back. 

"Isaac!" the short blonde girl exclaimed blissfully. "I missed you so much, you can barely believe it!" At the sound of herbest friend's grunt, Aila Hope pushed herself off of him. "Oops, too sudden?"

"I did warn him," Bridget spoke out, her tone and speech different from how she talks to her son, it was lighter, a fake sort of happiness, as Isaac stretched his back with a sheepish smile on his lips. 

Aila moved past her best friend to hug his mother. "Miss Collan! You look stunning, as always."

"Why thank you, miss Hope." Bridget returned the embrace, glancing down quickly at her old watch around her bony wrist. "Oh dear, as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I have to go and you two have a train to board." She released Aila to give Isaac one last hug and pressing a soft kiss on top of his head. "Don't forget, fun and education are what you're going to school for!" She waved quickly, before hurrying through the barrier again. 

"Well?" Aila asked, seconds after Bridget had left, while Isaac was staring at the barrier she just went through. "Are you planning to stay here or are you going to board the train with me?" she linked her arms with her best friend, helping him push his cart and get his luggage inside. 

Isaac's mind was filling up again. Without his mother's warm embrace, his thoughts were rushing and the feeling of earlier was completely gone. But he hadn't lost control yet. Aila, who was chatting enthusiastically about her holidays in Greece, while dragging him to an empty compartment, made him feel  like he had ground underneath him— not solid, like when his mother was around, but it was steady enough to walk on. 

He couldn't help but smile. Isaac felt happy around Aila. Not only could he be himself with her, so could she. The two teenagers seemed to finish each other, their personalities fitting together perfectly like puzzle pieces. 

"Isaac?" Aila shook his shoulder softly as she directed him in an empty compartment and pulled him out of his train of thoughts. At the confused expression that was etched on his face, Aila shook her head while trying to surpress a chuckle. "I asked what's the main theme of your paper gon' be this year? Everyone absolutely adored last year's theme."

Isaac glanced down shyly, beaming proudly. He didn't think it would be such a hit. Every year he would chose a different theme for his weekly paper, Hogwart's Weekly. It wasn't a very creative name, but the contents were something only he could think of. Last year's theme was about different cultures, in honour of the schools that visited Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. It made most of them feel more comfortable and even more importantly, it made the students of Hogwarts, who came from different cultures, feel more comfortable at Hogwarts. Isaac loved writing, especially if it made other people feel better. "I don't know yet," he shrugged as he took a seat on one of the benches. "It really depends on what's gon' happen at Hogwarts this year." 

He was worried about his fifth year at Hogwarts and that wasn't only because of his O.W.L.S. Last year's edition of Hogwarts Weekly didn't end up funny and light hearted as always— the opposite even, it was made as a tribute for Cedric Diggory. Isaac was devastated at the death of Cedric, like most students. He accepted messages, pictures, anything that had to do with fallen Hufflepuff and included it in the paper. Looking back at it, it was the paper that he had put the most effort in, while not writing much of his own words. 

"Are you going to write anything 'bout —" Aila fell silent, drifting her green eyes to every corner of the compartiment. "— You-Know-Who?" 

Isaac let his eyes meet with Aila's, an odd look of determination shining through them as he said, "Definitely."

 ∞

hello hello i am bad with writing british and scottish accents so please bear with me and i hope you enjoyed the chapter!