After witnessing his lycanthrope mother's death following her week-long disappearance, his life has never been the same again.
Atlas struggles with his identity and his goals, with the looming notion that there is a dangerous monster prowling in his...
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The soft patter of rain hitting the glass window was the only sound in the compartment, except for the quiet grunts of a tall, lanky boy trying to shove his heavy trunk into the overhead storage above clean yet worn-down leather seats. With a small sigh of relief, he managed to safely tuck the trunk overhead without the heavy suitcase crashing down on his head (which had definitely happened before, much to his embarrassment).
The recent few years at Hogwarts had been... interesting, to say the least. Not for Atlas, of course; the boy was more of a recluse, often being seen by himself, usually reading or writing. Atlas was, well, unfriendly most of the time, constantly irritated by the people around him. But how could it be his fault that he was annoyed if the oafish lot laughed too loud?
And then there was that boy: short, far too loud, with black hair and green eyes, and he always wore the funniest glasses, in Atlas's opinion. Ah, yes, Harry Potter. What a right knob he was—well, at least only in Atlas's eyes; everyone else seemed to adore him. Perhaps it was Atlas's jealousy of the boy getting the best of him, clouding his judgment, or so they say.
Atlas exhaled deeply as he plopped down onto the plush leather seats, pulling an old, cracked leather journal into his lap. He opened it and let his fingers drum on a blank page, trying to recall recent thoughts that he wanted to jot down. A small spark, a quiet inspiration begging to be kindled, flickered in his mind. He picked up a fancy engraved fountain pen, pressing the tip to the paper.
Just as he was about to finish the smooth curve of a "g," the compartment door was suddenly forcefully slid open. Atlas let out a soft curse, snapping his journal shut and looking up at the intruder. That small little flame of inspiration that he had just been about to blow on had been stomped out.
A slightly flushed boy with a stupid pair of glasses and uncombed hair stared at Atlas, and Atlas couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of recognition. Why was the bloody boy everywhere? And what did he want? And where the bloody hell were his Mudblood friend and that Weasley boy?
"Sorry, mind if I sit?" Harry asked, gesturing to the empty leather seat across from Atlas.
"I do mind, actually. Piss off," Atlas replied, dismissing the "famous" Harry Potter. He was the last sort of bloke Atlas wanted to be around.
Atlas watched as the boy's eyebrows shot up in surprise before his nose scrunched up in distaste at Atlas's hostile approach. "Right," Harry grumbled before turning on his heel and exiting the compartment, much to Atlas's relief.
Atlas looked back down at his journal, tapping the end of his pen against it, trying to find anything to write about. But, Merlin, all he could think about was how much that stupid boy annoyed him. Atlas let out an angry, defeated sigh, sliding the pen back into his pocket and slouching against the leather seat, placing his journal off to the side.
He looked over to the train compartment's window, watching as the Scottish Highlands rolled past at rapid speed. He closed his eyes, listening to the quiet huff and chug of the train, praying to Merlin that he could just forget about Harry Potter's ugly toad face.
It was only a few hours later when Atlas was awoken by the loud hush and metallic screech of the train. Groggy from his nap, he rubbed his eyes, standing up and forcing his large trunk out of the compact compartment overhead. He had heard that sound enough times to know that the train had stopped.
The tall boy yawned, stretching lazily as he shuffled to open the sliding compartment door, pausing to let a crowd of chattering students pass in the small, cramped space of the train hallway. He stepped out into the corridor, the sliding door thunking closed behind him. Just before he could move to follow everyone out to the carriages, a large black tomcat shot out from another compartment, darting between his lanky legs and nearly knocking him over.
Atlas let out a few quiet curses before a loud shout reached his ears and a large force knocked him over, causing him to let out a loud yelp as he hit the ground.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" a voice cried from above him.
Dazed and a little confused, Atlas blinked up at the figure above him. A fairly tan, blonde-haired girl was staring down at him doe-eyed like a lost puppy, and it irked him.
"Get off," he grumbled, clutching his head and sitting up. She obliged, scrambling to her feet.
"I'm so sorry! I was trying to catch my cat! I totally didn't mean to knock you over, I'm so sorry!"
Atlas just let out a soft breath as he rose to his feet, dusting off his Slytherin robes, staring at the babbling Hufflepuff with irritation.
"Whatever," he grumbled before turning on his heel and stooping down to swiftly grab his dropped trunk.
This certainly wasn't how Atlas expected his train ride to go. Not even eight hours without someone feeling the need to barrel into him or annoy him. Despite how dismissive Atlas was to the blonde girl, she practically bounced behind him, following him to the carriages.
Atlas didn't seem to notice her energetic presence, his attention focused on the two dark and regal Thestrals pulling the carriage. He had always been curious about them; they were indescribable, really. Long slim skeletal bodies and reptilian faces, with eyes a ghostly color. Most were scared of them, but how could Atlas be scared of such beauty?
The dark-haired boy took hold of the carriage door, pausing before opening it and turning his head to look over his shoulder, releasing an annoyed sigh from his lips when he realized the girl had been following him, clearly intending to strike up a conversation.
"Why are you following me?"
"Can you see them too?" she asked, her large brown eyes darting over to the Thestral whose head was tucked under its large leathery wing, scratching an irritable itch.
Atlas's eyebrows rose, caught off guard by the question. "What?" he replied, his voice laced with uncertainty.
"Can you see them? The Thestrals?" the blonde-haired girl repeated.
Atlas remained silent for a moment before nodding his head, and she smiled. The boy looked back at the carriage, opening the door and slipping inside, his silver eyes watching as the tan girl slid into the biscuit-colored leather seat, shutting the carriage door once her large black cat, which had found its way back to her, hopped up into the cab.
"My name is Mackenzie, by the way," she grinned.
Atlas took a good look at the girl. She was tan with wavy blonde hair and freckles scattered across her straight nose. Mackenzie had dark brown eyes, and she seemed to always be smiling. She was the kind of person Atlas could never see himself talking to, yet the universe is unpredictable.
"Oh, okay," he replied cautiously, eyeing her like she was going to jump forward and attack him.
Mackenzie laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners, her teeth pearly white. "You're supposed to reply with 'Nice to meet you, my name is blah blah blah.'"
Mackenzie bent over in her seat, picking up the large black tomcat that was purring at her feet. "Here, hold him. I can sense that you're anxious, and I'm almost positive he'll calm you down." She winked playfully before placing the cat into his lap, causing Atlas to immediately tense up.
"You know, you have a lot of scars" Mackenzie pointed out.
Atlas exhaled deeply as he grimaced down at the cat. This was definitely going to be a long stagecoach trip to the castle.
