SOLSTICE

052

The moment they stepped through the barrier, the atmosphere shifted.

The scarlet Hogwarts Express sat billowing steam like a dragon waiting to roar. Parents called out last-minute reminders, younger students were wrangled by older siblings, and trolleys full of trunks and owls wobbled.

“OKAY! I am ready for this year.”

James clapped his hands together with the theatrical determination of a man about to run into battle wearing nothing but Gryffindor pride and blind optimism. 

“I don’t think so,” Harry muttered under his breath, sinking just a little deeper into his seat.

“We have a new addition. Who is that cute little guy?” Isabella asked and then nearly squealed. “Oh Merlin—he looks so cute and mushy, makes me want to squish his cheeks and knit him a sweater he didn’t ask for!”

Asher immediately shrank closer to Cyril. He is small for his age. His limbs were a little too thin, like he hadn’t quite grown into his arms and legs yet, and his oversized jumper only made him look more huggable. His hair was a soft tumble of dark curls that refused to stay neat, always falling into his eyes. It gave him a perpetually tousled look, like he’d just woken up from a nap.

“Look at his face! He’s like a tiny, anxious pastry,” Isabella gushed, pressing her palms to her cheeks dramatically. “I just want to wrap him in a blanket and feed him cocoa.”

Remus stilled in his place as he looked at him with concentration. There was a very faint scar on the side of his chin running down to neck.

The crowd was too much.

Too loud. Too busy. Too everything.

Oversensitivity.

Remus’s doubt was starting to turn into a belief.

Fingers still clutched the sleeve of Cyril’s coat like he’d be swept away otherwise; knuckles pale and stiff. His dark eyes darting toward the endless parade of strangers. He was barely eleven. And crowds… weren’t his favorite thing.

Cyril didn’t shift away from the boy’s hold. He simply kept walking. With one hand, he was pushing both his own and Asher’s trolley.

Asher stayed tucked at his side like a shadow, half-hiding behind the fall of Cyril’s coat, watching with wide eyes as the Hogwarts Express hissed and whistled in the distance. 

Eva, sensing Asher’s nerves like a sixth sense, immediately picked up the chatter.

“This is so much, huh?” she grinned, trying to mask her concern behind casual brightness. “Don’t worry, it’s always like this the first time. It’s a miracle no one gets trampled.”

Asher gave a tiny nod but didn’t speak.

She bumped her shoulder against his gently. “First time I came here, I tripped over my own shoelaces and slammed face-first into the wall. Nearly broke my nose.”

"Did you actually fall?" someone questioned.

Eva head turned slowly, dark eyes gleaming as they zeroed in on the unfortunate speaker. She tilted her chin, expression blank.

"Look at this face." She gestured to herself with a flourish. "Does this look like the kind of face that hits the floor?"

The air tightened.

“I mean—” the person tried, fumbling.

"Shh," Eva cut in, holding up a hand. “Continue watching.”