The Boy Who Cried Wolf

1 - Limits of Normalcy

Carrying her small travel bag in her arms, Goldie made her way along the aisle of the train, looking for a compartment that was empty. She did not fancy the idea of sitting in the middle of an established friend group; it would be quite an uncomfortable situation for everyone.

A range of odd looks were thrown her way as people pushed past with their friends. Very quickly, she realised she was the talk of the train; unfamiliar new student, significantly older than the average first year. She offered half-hearted smiles to the strange looks, attempting to make herself seem friendly. Each time, it was met with a grimace or an immediate aversion of eyes.

Feeling a growing anxiety, Goldie eventually came to the conclusion that all compartments were taken by at least one person. Finding one of the emptier ones, she opened the sliding door and eyed the sole boy. Darkened blonde hair fell in slight waves down his forehead, framing gentle brown eyes that were engrossed in a book on Ancient Runes. Pale skin littered with almost unnoticeable freckles contrasted with the black hues of his uniform. The hem of his robes grazed the floor of the compartment as he sat with one leg crossed over the other. A thick scarf striped with green and silver rested loosely over his shoulders, matching an emerald-green and black school tie.

As she stood in the doorway, he glanced up to eye Goldie suspiciously. With a tone of irritation, he spoke up, "Can I help you?"

Goldie shifted her weight awkwardly as she took in his harsh response. Tentatively, she inquired, "Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"No." The boy in green scoffed, returning his gaze to his book. "This compartment is taken."

Goldie stared around the compartment, unimpressed. It was hardly taken up when there was only one student in it.

Choosing to spare him any further questioning, she ignored his response and took a seat in the opposite corner to him. His eyes flicked up from his book and narrowed, irked by her behaviour.

He could tell she was new. Uncoordinated and ignorant to proper etiquette, she had no issue disregarding his refusal. Pitch black hair fell in slight waves to just below her shoulders, cut in choppy layers that would be considered unladylike by many. Her eyes, dark and greyed, had darker lines running outwards from the pupils so that from afar, they resembled the clouds of a thunderstorm. They concealed every trace of her thoughts; he couldn't read what she was thinking. Her body language only reflected nerves: her arms tight around her bag as it rested on her lap.

"Who are you?" He questioned, offering politeness. She had no resemblance to any pureblood families he knew of, other than possibly the Blacks, but they had a son in sixth year already.

"...Goldie McCulain." She responded after a moment, the new name feeling unfamiliar on her tongue. "And you are?"

"Nathaniel Avery." The boy greeted in return, putting on a false smile. "Now get out. This compartment is not for new students to make friends."

Startled by his blatant disrespect, Goldie scowls. "Have you no manners?"

"Have you no manners? Barging into somewhere you're not welcome." He spat, snapping his book shut.

Before Goldie could snap a response, Avery got to his feet with a scoff. As she clearly was not moving, he resorted to finding a different compartment with someone more cooperative. Goldie watched him leave with furrowed eyebrows, confused by his behaviour.

Was it truly that difficult to be pleasant towards a new student?

As a few minutes passed, nobody else tried to get into the compartment. Goldie searched through the books in her bag and pulled out one her host family had provided. It was some sort of guidebook to less practiced forms of magic, but it was extremely battered and torn. She assumed it was just old, borrowed from somewhere.