Of Constellations → 𝘥. 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺

xvi. theo in oxford

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chapter sixteen

theo in oxford

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The Scottish countryside rolled by as we steadily made our way South. The world was white and grey outside of our window, completely different than the greens and browns at the beginnings and ends of the years.

Theo and I were in a compartment by ourselves, playing wizard's chess and surrounded by sweets from the trolley.

It was the first trip on the Hogwarts Express during which I didn't sleep at all. Before I knew it, we were pulling into King's Cross. The platform wasn't busy, but we already had a plan to not be seen. The Malfoys, Crabbes, and Goyles waited for their sons at the same mahogany bench, nearest the newsstand because Mr. Malfoy liked to read the Daily Prophet while he waited for Draco. Unfortunately, the bench was near the exit, but Draco agreed to keep everyone distracted until Theo and I made it through.

"Nervous?" I asked him as we waited to get out of the train. I'd given him one of my knitted caps and a scarf, both in Ravenclaw colors, to cover as much of his face as possible.

When he looked at me, I could only see his eyes, but I could tell he was beaming. "Yes," he said, voice slightly muffled, "but in a good way."

The two of us tried to keep behind a particularly tall couple of Hufflepuff seventh-year boys as we crossed the platform and got in line where a guard was regulating the exits.

I could see where the Death Eater families were sitting, but the boys had done a good job in organizing themselves as a human barrier (especially Crabbe and Goyle—perhaps they had finally found their true calling).

Fleetingly, Draco glanced over his shoulder. I smiled at him and he gave the smallest of nods before turning back to the adults.

It was always painfully slow, waiting in line to get back to the Muggle platforms, but it was never as slow as this year.

"All right, you two, go ahead," the guard, a small balding man, said to Theo and me, sounding exquisitely uninterested.

I grabbed Theo's forearm and tugged him through the barrier, into a bustling, stuffy, loud rail station. The two of us hurried by the platforms. Once we were in the concourse, decorated in Christmas colors and twinkling lights, Theo threw his hands into the air.

"I AM FREE!" he yelled, garnering disapproving glares from a few passersby. I was going to tell him not to draw attention to us, but we were both laughing by then.

Everything seemed brighter, louder, sweeter when we left the station into the wintery London air. The unreal exhilaration reminded me of how I felt reading the book From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler for the first time when I was seven—the fantasy of being a child runaway. Except, I loved my parents and they loved me, it was just Theo's dad we were running from, and we were hiding him in my modest home in Oxford instead of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

"This feels weird," said Theo as we turned the corner, searching for my mother's car. "I'm so used to staying at Hogwarts over Christmas. It's like I'm on an adventure."

"This will be your first time out of the country, right? And your first time skiing, obviously. It's as good as an adventure," I said. I'd told him about skiing on the Hogwarts Express. It took him a while to accept that I was not joking—Muggles really did slide down snowy mountainsides with long strips of wood attached to special boots.