Chapter Text
The train roared as it soared over bridges, the waves below blooming as they quickly passed. Childe stared up at the dark castle looming above him, his neck aching as he scrutinized his future home, still tiny in the distance. He could barely make out the bright yellow lights beaming through the windows. Hogwarts, the British wizarding school. He reached into his bag, withdrawing a snowy white postcard of another towering estate: Koldovstoretz, elegant as it always was, albeit with some artistic sacrifices. They certainly looked different. Hogwarts appeared similar to the traditional castles he’d read about in Western European books. What a shame there were different trains for the Hogwarts students and the Koldovstoretz students. Childe would’ve liked to meet some of them already, but for now he was alone. For his arrival, the weather seemed rather ominous, the grey clouds obscuring the sun from view. Childe frowned at the unpleasant sight. The entire sky was dark and ravens landed on the tower spires, squawking in a call of warning. The castle blurred in front of him as the window fogged up with some sort of wet sludge, no doubt the result of the muddy environment they were passing through. Childe squinted and rubbed at the train window, blowing on it in a vain attempt to clear the mirror despite knowing fully well it was on the other side.
“Don’t be so stupid. Blowing won’t do anything, you’ll have to use magic.” A girl’s cross voice interjected, and Childe blinked owlishly as she shoved her wand in his face. He hadn’t heard her push the compartment door open. She would be pretty, with long ashy brown hair and blue eyes, but her face was scrunched up into what could only be described as reproach. It made her, in Childe’s opinion, sour to look at. She looked like a lemon shark who had only just now learned that she was not at the top of the food chain. She flicked her wrist, her lips barely moving, and the window cleared up. She tucked her wand away into her robes, puffing her chest out.
“Woah, thanks!” Childe clung to the window, his breath billowing onto the clear glass.
”Aren’t you going to ask for my name?” Childe stared at her, wrinkling his eyebrows.
“Right. So, who are you again?”
“I’m Sandrone. Sandrone Guillotin. And you’re?” Childe cleared his throat, unabashedly grinning.
“The name’s Ajax. But you can just call me Childe! That’s my nickname!”
She scoffed, twitching. “I can tell, dimwit. What sort of name is that? Only a fool would come up with that. Then again, you are rather childish.”
Childe grinned. He could already tell she was going to be rough. Childe reclined back in his seat, taking care to wind his crimson scarf back around his neck. He settled comfortably. “It was a friend of mine, back at Koldovstoretz.” Sandrone, despite her apparent dislike, dropped into the seat across from Childe, taking care to smooth out the invisible wrinkles in her robes. She patted them down multiple times, carefully ensuring that every inch of fabric had withstood her overbearing fingers.
“And he didn’t come with us when it shut down? What kind of wizard would do that?” Her last question sounded more like an accusation, and Childe felt the urge to defend his friend’s character. His neck prickled with heat, and he scratched at it, his fingers clawing to quench the burning. Dmitri was a good friend and wizard.
“Not everyone’s families can afford to have them so far away. We’re lucky, after all, that we were able to attend Hogwarts. It’s infamous. Don’t tell me that you aren’t excited?” Childe blurted out, daring her to retort. Sandrone’s cheeks filled with color, and she turned away, her lips folding into a childish pout. She was nothing short of unbelievable.
“Of course I’m glad. There’s an awful lot to learn here. Tsk, though nothing will ever beat the feeling of trudging through snow in the summer. I suppose Hogwarts can’t be as perfect as they make it out to be. Say, what year are you, boy?” Childe squirmed under Sandrone’s appraising gaze; she made him feel as though he were being inspected through a microscope. He smiled at her, open and bright.
“I’m a fourth year. You’ve gotta be older than me to have that authority, huh?” She sniffed, but he could tell she was pleased from the way she pretended to appear unaffected.
“Indeed. I’m a fifth year. That makes you my junior. Be sure to respect someone prolific like me.” Sandrone kept a smug smile on her face, even as she turned to look out the darkened window panes. Her hair fell into her face, obscuring her view from Childe’s eyes. She was, despite her own proclamations, someone enigmatic. Childe had never met a girl so vulnerable, yet so arrogant at the same time. It fascinated him.
“If you’re so famous, then why’re you hanging out with a random fourth year like me?” Childe bluntly stated, and Sandrone licked her lips, floundering. She pointed her finger at Childe in accusation, clutching her pearls to her chest. At that moment, Childe was struck by the vague impression of a grandmother whose face was twisted with moral outrage.
“Well, I- I merely wanted to give an underclassman some advice!” She protested, and Childe shrugged.
“So basically you’ve also got no friends. Got it.” Sandrone shot Childe a withering glare, her fists folded in her lap. Childe suppressed a laugh in an attempt to refrain from further provocation. It would be fun to fight her on a moving train, but Childe doubted it would make for a pleasant first impression at Hogwarts. Besides, his parents would be disappointed if their son was expelled so early. And he didn’t want to hurt his parents’ feelings. More than that, his siblings’. His youngest brother Teucer’s eyes had shone wide and shiny like their mother’s silver plates as he clung to Childe’s leg, begging him to read the Tsaritsa’s letter. Tonia had chatted his ear off, asking numerous questions about what Hogwarts might be like, who might be there, and especially what Childe would get to eat. He’d promised her, too, that he’d write home detailing his adventures. So, how could Childe betray the wishes of his dear siblings? He nodded his head to Sandrone, prompting her to continue with her tirade.
“That’s not it at all. I do have a friend, actually.” She crossed her arms, her icy blue eyes looking everywhere but Childe’s face. Sandrone looked stiff, her entire body angular and sharp; from this angle, the darkness obscuring the pores on her face, she appeared as frozen as a porcelain doll. “Her name’s Columbina.”
Childe puffed out his cheeks, attempting to think if he knew anyone by that name. He knew many people, but not this girl. Then again, his usual friends were all boys. It’s not that he disliked girls, but he found that more often boys were the ones willing to challenge him, and Childe was always one for a fight. “I’ve never heard of her.”
Sandrone bristled, recoiling as if she thought Childe was a nincompoop. “Of course you wouldn’t have! I’m just saying that’s her name!”
“If you’re so close, shouldn’t you be sitting with her right now? Unless you’ve taken a liking to me?” Childe smirked, tilting his head sideways. It was not that he actually believed his own words, but he could already predict her reaction, and he eagerly awaited it. Childe paused, greedily drinking in Sandrone’s expression.
“Absolutely not.” Sandrone’s face was contorted with pure disgust, her hand covering her mouth as if she was going to vomit. “I didn’t even know you existed til today. Besides, Columbina’s just with another friend of hers. You’re my last resort.”
“But you’re not all friends?” He’d hit a sore spot. Sandrone went quiet, stuck in a period of rumination. It was clear she, too, had no answer to give. She looked down at the book in her lap, picking at the strings of leather with her nails. The two sat in an uncomfortable silence, the tension so palpable that the temperature seemed to rise a degree. The compartment was silent, solely occupied by the thumping of the train over the railroad tracks.
Childe was bored; he didn’t want to be stuck with her now. He liked her more when she was angrier. Childe reached to his side, pulling a small foil lump out of his bag. He unfolded it to reveal a simple turkey and cheese sandwich, carefully packed by his mother, with a small sticker from Tonia on it. Food always made people feel better, or at least it made him feel better. He was hungry anyways. Childe counted down: 3,2,1. He successfully split it in half, and he offered a half to the older girl, extending his arm to reach across the seats. “Here, have some of my sandwich. You’re probably hungry after arguing so much.”
“No, I’m not.” Sandrone muttered, but she took the sandwich anyway. She took it quickly, limiting the physical contact she had to make with Childe’s fingers. Her hands were cold, so much so that Childe’s fingers were left tingly. Childe devoured his half, going so far as to lick the crumbs off his fingers and the sides of his mouth. Sandrone was much more deliberate, taking a nibble every now and then. She ate in a peculiar way, dissecting the food grain by grain. “This is…acceptable.”
“It’s nothing special, but my mother made it, so maybe it is.” Childe shrugged, and he leaned back, tossing his legs onto the empty bench, dirty dress shoes and all. Sandrone opened her mouth as if to reprimand him, but refrained from doing so. Perhaps the sandwich had satiated her captious character.
“Sandrone, do you want to be my friend?”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Friend, comrade, buddy. Any of those? All of my friends back at Koldovstoretz chose to go to Durmstrang or just couldn’t come here. So it’s not like I have anyone fun to talk to. But you seem pretty entertaining. After all, aren’t you a Harbinger like me?” From beneath his robes, Childe procured a small silver pin with a narwhal engraved onto it. Her face flickered with surprise before her typical frigidity washed over. Sandrone managed a grimace.
“So you’re the new recruit. Hah, I’m surprised I didn’t know beforehand. Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other then. As for your question, I’d rather not be your ‘comrade’. Let’s just stick to being acquaintances, business partners, whatever works best.” Childe frowned, but he did not particularly care to chase after someone who had no interest in being chased. Sandrone, to his disappointment, looked even less impressed after he’d revealed his status as a harbinger. Surely not! The Tsaritsa had insisted that Childe could indulge in strange people to his heart’s content after being given the Harbinger role. The Harbingers were created to dominate, and yet, Sandrone seemed disappointed, her shoulders sagging.
“Ah, well, that’s unfortunate.” Childe smiled at her, though he didn’t feel content. Rather, he was annoyed. He’d have to find someone else to play with. The train ceased its chugging, jerking to a slow stop. Childe peered out the window; it was still dark, but now, he could spot orange-hued lanterns passing by leisurely.
Sandrone joined him in observation. “It seems the train has stopped at its destination. I believe it’s time for us to part ways. ” She stood to leave, the sandwich left half uneaten on the bench, the foil crumpled up. Even in parting, she left no sign of friendliness. Childe sat up abruptly, reaching to grab the hem of her sleeve. Sandrone turned and clicked her tongue in annoyance and she tried to shake him off. “What is it now?”
“Well.” Childe sprung up to his full height. He was taller than her, just by an inch or so, and it granted him immense joy to see the scowl on her face grow. “Since I’m new, I never received information about what the Tsaritsa has asked us to do here, so I was hoping you could tell me before you go. I almost couldn’t believe it when I heard rumors that she was going to infiltrate the staff! ” Sandrone muffled Childe’s exclamation with her hand, looking around to see if anyone would come running. So what if everyone heard? The more the merrier, Childe thought, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
“Don’t run your mouth. And don’t tell me you’re one of those freaks who believe she’s a god. She’s a talented witch, that’s all. Don’t be so foolish.” She hesitated. “But you shared your food with me. For that, I suppose, I’ll tell you our goal. Each major professor supposedly has a powerful wand they’ve kept in hiding. Our job is to locate each wand and give them to the Tsaritsa. She thinks she can open the heavens or whatever.” Childe beamed. His lady was amazing! And the wands, how interesting! Childe was sure each Harbinger would be seeking something from the Tsaritsa, so they’d target the wands immediately. As the youngest, Childe would be at a disadvantage. He shivered. It was an ecstatic thought, the feeling of fighting and crushing and devouring and being decimated under someone else’s might.
“That’s amazing! Do you think she’ll let me use the wands if I find them first?” Sandrone scoffed.
“She would never. Let’s just do our job and get all this over with. I’m not answering anymore, so find someone else to hang around” Sandrone set her hand on the edge of the door, her lips set in a firm line. Her gaze was set far ahead, beyond the train. Childe couldn’t place exactly what she was seeing, but he knew he couldn’t see it. He shook his head. This Harbinger was a weird girl. He patted her on the shoulder, ignoring her death-stare.
“Ah, whatever. Let’s just have fun at Hogwarts. I’m sure there’s a lot to experience!” Sandrone nodded, sliding the compartment door open. She glanced in both directions, deciding to follow the flow of the other departers.
“At the very least, I’m sure that’s true.” She slipped out of the doorway easily, and when Childe followed her, she was no longer there, lost in a hustling sea of former Koldovstoretz students. He stood in the hallway, bemused. Sandrone was an enigma.
---
“Hm, and what do we have here? Just a little boy?” Childe looked behind him to meet yet another new face. A young man loomed above him, tall and elegant, with luscious black hair and a serene smile resting on his face. Thin dark glasses slipped down his nose bridge, and the boy fluidly fixed them, his expensive aura never leaving. He seemed completely unbothered by the hassle of his eyewear. Yet, oddly enough, his eyes were closed shut. How that man could even see, Childe didn’t know. And Childe was not a little boy. He was already a fourth year, and he wouldn’t let some blind four eyes push him around.
“And who are you?” Childe retorted, assuming a confident stance. “With your eyesight, I’m surprised they even let you into this school instead of a nursing home.” The young man chuckled, but Childe was not oblivious to the slight vein pulsing on his forehead. So he was the type to get easily irritated. Seems it wouldn’t be so hard to provoke him into a fight.
“You have quite the temper.” He leaned down, poking Childe’s forehead with a gloved hand. The glove was made of leather, and it harshly scraped down the center of Childe’s face. “Shouldn’t someone like you be put in place?” Childe slapped his hand away, his eyebrows furrowing.
“Don’t touch me unless you want to fight. What year even are you?” Childe sneered. He possessed no doubts about challenging an older and taller enemy. Childe was not someone who backed down.
“How uncouth. As a seventh year, hearing this is making me concerned for the next generation. Challenging your elder on the train?” He suppressed a chuckle, covering his mouth with a black glove. Upon a second glance, Childe swore he spotted a purple gem embedded into the back of the glove. So he was one of those rich elitists. Those students had always been the most obnoxious, even back home. He straightened up, ignoring another student who tapped his shoulder in a vain attempt to ask him to move out of the way.
“I am.” Childe’s blue eyes stared right back at him through the man’s glasses’ reflection. Glasses chuckled again, this time not bothering to hide his derision. He clapped, slowly, drawing each out. His smile now seemed less angelic and more twisted as he placed a warm, patronizing hand on Childe’s shoulder. He maintained his sly smile. Childe wanted to bite his arm, dig his teeth into the flesh and watch the person in front of him squirm and beg for mercy. No, he couldn’t. Really. Besides, Childe wouldn’t fight someone who wouldn’t fight back. That was nothing short of pathetic.
“Now, aren’t you interesting? I’m Pantalone. It was nice to meet you.” He spat every word out, punctuating each with an uncanny movement of his lips. He squeezed Childe’s shoulder, hard,. Pantalone then let go, rearranging his hands close to his chest, almost as if he was an old miserly woman wary of being robbed. With conscious effort, he rearranged his face into a content smile, the irritation draining away. Or was it just masked? He then waved carefreely, before brushing past Childe easily, knocking him off balance. Childe had braced himself, and yet Pantalone had no trouble moving him. Childe gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. Coward. He was a coward who’d been too afraid to face Childe like a real warrior. How embarrassing on Pantalone’s end. And yet, Childe was the one who ultimately succumbed to Pantalone’s will. His shoulders slumped as he faced the humiliation of his own defeat; he’d never been one to give up after the first fight. If anything, it merely spurred him on more, knowing there was someone left to conquer.
Childe puffed out his chest, returning to his usual bravado. He wouldn’t be bested so easily, Pantalone should know. Pantalone, Pantalone. Where had Childe heard that name before? Maybe he should’ve paid more attention when the upperclassmen were talking back at Koldovstoretz. At the time, he’d been too focused on what his friends were muttering about, which was that a red-haired trespasser had often been spotted on campus. He began to walk out of the train absentmindedly, following the single-file line of students. It was hot and full of giggles and shouts as other students gossiped with their friends, but Childe paid his surroundings no heed, shuffling with the crowd. Pantalone. Pantalone. Aha, Pantalone was a Fatui harbinger! The most forgettable one, but one indeed. So the Fatui harbingers were people of such a quality. Childe grinned, a feral look coming onto his face. Then, there was no need to search. Pantalone would come to him soon enough, as long as they both sought the wands. Childe only needed to lie in wait for Pantalone to come. Yet, that thought struck him as rather boring, and the mere idea made his joints ache with disuse.
---
“Alright, Koldovstoretz students, get off, get off!” A large hand seemed to appear out of the dark night sky as Childe exited the train. Childe spun around, attempting to take in the station he’d stopped at. The platform was utterly charming, all burgundy fences and neatly trimmed bushes. Quite British, he decided, even though he had no idea of what that meant. Then, Childe caught sight of the largest man he’d ever seen. A girl next to him shot him a dirty look as she swerved around him, shouldering him aside in the process. Normally, he would’ve called her out, but he found himself too enchanted to care. Everything about the man was huge, from his smile to his wild blonde hair to his twinkling blue eyes. Even his voice was low and rough. He almost looked like a lumberjack from back home, wielding a light in one hand and ushering children along the lumpy path. Childe couldn’t believe it, his perfect opponent standing right in front of him, guiding students to the shore awaiting them. The waves rippled against each other, leading into murky darkness. Boats slowly drifted across the channel, each equipped with a sole light. Other Koldovstoretz students hurried to board the boats, eager to see their new school for the first time. And yet, Childe’s feet didn’t want to uproot themselves from their position. How could he abandon such a marvelous chance to prove himself after being wronged by Pantalone? This brute would show Childe what a true fight felt like. Childe marched up to the towering blonde man, who still seemed oblivious to his presence.
“I challenge you to a fight!” He pointed his finger straight at the man’s face, and for a split second the man seemed bewildered.
“Huh? Me?” He did a double take, pointing at himself. So now there were two fingers in the giant’s direction. “Listen, kid, I know you’re new around here, but we don’t really do that.” He smiled apologetically. “Just go to the boats, why don’t you? Nice challenge though.” He smirked, and raised his hand, awaiting a high five. Childe gaped. How could someone reject such an amazing opportunity? Then again, he was only a fourth year. Would he have been taken more seriously if he were as old and wrinkly as Pantalone, that sly dog?
“But, I asked you for a fight!” Childe squeaked out, his voice managing to crack at the worst moment. Curse puberty! He smashed his head into his hands, stopping only as the blonde held them tightly by his robe collar, immobilizing Childe even as he tried to squirm out of his grip. He was beyond the strength of any opponent Childe had fought so far, except for his master.
“And that’s great and all. But you’re gonna fall behind your peers. And I’ve been told not to let a single drop of rain touch your heads. So, go on and join everyone else. Varka’s boats, Varka’s rules.” The giant, presumably Varka, nodded pridefully, releasing Childe and giving him a healthy slap in the right direction, whistling as he did so. Although it was light, it sent Childe flying meters away, and he scrambled to stand back up, his robes now cased in dirt. It was dark over here, and Childe had a stray thought that Varka himself was quite bright. Yet another person he needed to defeat! Childe managed a bitter smile; at least he had more to do before this school tired him.
“Need help there?” Childe reached out blindly, his eyes struggling to adjust to the lower light. He reached out and met warm skin against his own, the fingers curling and straining to pull him up. “Here, I got you.”
“Yeah, thanks for the help.” His eyes adjusted to the light, and he made out a face. It was a rather impassive one, framed by light hair and slight freckles across it. Childe wrinkled his nose. “Nice meeting you. The name’s Childe.” The boy blinked.
“Interesting name.”
“My real name’s Ajax, but you can call me either. I’m not picky.” Childe shrugged. Whatever endeared him to people was fine, so long as they didn’t take to calling him other nicknames, like Sunshine. The last kid who’d called him that was still nursing a nasty scar from kindergarten.
“Hm, I’ll call you Childe, if that’s alright. It’s a fun nickname. I’m Alyosha.” The boy shook Childe’s outstretched hand firmly, with little to no apprehension. Childe’s smile widened; the handshake test was always a good sign. “What year are you?” Childe began walking to the boats, and Alyosha kept pace with him.
“I’m a fourth year. Since it’ll be our first year at Hogwarts, it feels a little weird to think about it that way.” Childe beamed at Alyosha, hopping into the boat closest to him, water lapping at his robes. He crashed into the bottom, the boat rocking with such an intensity it created waves in its wake.
Alyosha picked up the hem of Childe’s clothes, tossing them inside the boat with him. “What a coincidence, I’m also a fourth year. Don’t get yourself wet. It’ll be annoying to clean off. ” With a heave, Alyosha jumped into the boat. Unlike Childe, he landed softly, leaving the impression that he hadn’t touched ground at all. Then, he did something peculiar. He whistled, and a husky dog pounced from the shoreline onto the boat, landing straight in Alyosha’s arms.
“Woah, a dog! What’s his name?” Childe petted the dog’s head, and the dog responded by nuzzling further into Childe’s palm. Childe grinned. “Who’s a good boy, who’s a good boy!” Childe scratched behind the dog’s ears, and it snuffled back. Alyosha managed a slight smile.
“It’s Tugarin. He’s my canine companion.” Despite the neutral tone of his voice, the careful cradling of the dog and Alyosha’s positioning of himself before his companion suggested care and affection. It was clear the two valued each other immensely.. He gave the dog another pet as the boat began to drift towards Hogwarts. They were some of the last students to board the boats, so it was only the two of them sailing to their new homes, the first boat occupied by Varka, who was whistling some offtune song that Alyosha plugged his ears for the majority of.
“That’s awesome! I wanted a pet, but my parents said no. They probably thought I wouldn’t take care of it well…which I guess is true. I get distracted easily, so I wouldn’t have time for a dog.” Childe smiled wistfully. Having a dog must be nice, but he couldn’t imagine dragging it around to all his boxing fights and competitions. Even dogs get tired.
Alyosha tilted his head, and he looked remarkably like Tugarin, slightly quizzical yet innocent. “Is that so? Well, you can pet Tugarin in the meanwhile, he doesn’t bite.”
Childe beamed. “Really? He looks like he’d make a good fetcher. I can’t wait to play with him and you all the time, since we’re both in the same year! Hey, do you play TCG?” Alyosha nodded.
“Yeah, I do. I’m not that good though. But, it’s fun.” Childe whooped, letting out an exclamatory shout. He’d been a fan of TCG since forever, but without anyone to play with, he’d grown rather rusty. The castle grew closer to them, casting a shadow onto their heads, even blocking out the bright lanterns. The other students whispered amongst each other, gazing up in a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.
“I play TCG too! Just look, here’s my favorite card!” Childe rummaged around in his pocket, filtering through the various trash that he’d stuffed inside on the long journey here. “Tada!” With a flourish, he whipped out a gold TCG card with the portrait of a flaming haired woman stamped onto it. She moved around, winking up at him and hauling a wand over her shoulder. She possessed a roguish charm and a confidence that Childe found remarkably similar to his own. Alyosha peered over to look at it.
“Isn’t that the Mavuika card? Like Professor Mavuika at Hogwarts? That’s a limited edition one too…can I see?” Childe basked in attention as Alyosha inspected it, looking it over on front and back. This card was the result of blood, sweat, and tears. He’d won it as the prize of one of those underground boxing competitions. Nestor, his eldest brother, had convinced him to lie to their parents, saying he was taking Ajax to the forest for some hunting. No one had questioned why they’d forgotten their guns in place of boxing gloves, and their father, when he’d caught them, had only chuckled and clapped Ajax on the shoulder, remarking that he was growing into a strong boy. When they’d arrived, Nestor meant to write his own name in the brackets, but Ajax, enraptured by the calls of the stadium and the thrill of going up against the strongest men around, demanded that he go in his brother’s stead, his entire face burning with a desire he could not name. Nestor was caught off guard, and yet, he agreed; perhaps it was just a gut feeling. No one had expected him to win. Ajax had gone in as the underdog, after all, and shown them what it meant to be a winner, his gloves coated in his opponent’s sweat and blood. The audience was shocked, most disappointed due to betting against the adolescent, a few excited for the potential of this new competitor. Yet, the part that would cement Childe’s history was him hoisting the other up and calling him‘comrade’. Indeed, for Childe, fighting was more than a battle for victory. For him, it was an unspoken exchange of hearts. And who else better to embody that than Mavuika, one of the strongest witches of the previous generation, and someone whose confidence knew no end? “This is really rare.”
“I got it after I won a competition. Here, you can have it.” Alyosha opened his mouth, confused as a goldfish. It was almost endearing, and it reminded Childe of his younger brother Anthon, who was prone to indignation yet, when retorted against, had no answer. “I don’t need it. Besides, you might find a better use for it.” Childe winked, and he pressed the card into Alyosha’s pliant palms. Alyosha, despite hesitating initially, closed his palms around the card and pocketed it, Mavuika’s scarlet hair extinguished by the darkness. Childe let his eyes linger on where she had been, the memory of that snowy day faint on his tongue, before Alyosha shook his head.
“Don’t regret something like this.” Alyosha’s eyes shone with warning, and yet Childe paid them no heed. He never regretted his decisions; he lived, fought, ate, and felt with gusto. After all, there was surely more out there to be felt. But Alyosha really was a fun person to be around, despite how different he was from Childe. Or maybe these differences were the reason he was attracted in the first place. What did they say? Oh, yes, opposites attract. Was that only for romance? Why couldn’t it be for friendship? Childe ruffled Alyosha’s hair, and even as the other boy attempted to bat him away, he bore only mild annoyance in his eyes. “What’d you do that for?”
“Aw, just messing with you! But I have a feeling we’ll be good friends.” Childe craned his neck all the way up to stare at the castle, which was now mere feet away. It was truly ancient, and Childe thought it looked beautiful, all those spikes and dips and tall windows with shadowy figures peeking out of them. Someone with a more sophisticated taste might’ve been able to pinpoint what specifically made the architecture so appealing, but Childe was only able to recall the feeling it evoked in his heart, swelling up through his throat. For a second, he was unable to speak. Childe was here, at last. It inspired both awe and intrigue. The castle itself was positioned at the top of the mountain, as if it were looking down on him, challenging him to come inside and discover its secrets. These winding stairs led from his old life to the new.
---
“Alright kids, head up those stairs, and make sure you don’t forget anything!” Varka pulled the children up, easily climbing the stairs four at a time, but also helping the younger students, who found it difficult to run so fast with their short legs. Many stopped on the landings, out of breath from having run the entire way. The stairs shone in the moonlight, a polished ivory, and they looked endless. Childe scrambled out of the boat, offering a hand to Alyosha, who politely declined, setting Tugarin down delicately. He petted the dog before standing, and Tugarin offered a cheerful bark in return. Childe couldn’t resist the urge to compete.
“Hey, race you up the stairs!” He shouted at Alyosha. Before the other boy could respond, Childe took off running. He weaved between other students, bypassing them with ease. Some tried to shout at him, but he chose not to listen. After all, it was more fun to do what he wanted. Even more exciting, some tried to stop him with their arms and legs, others thrusting their bookbags in his way, and Childe found excitement in dodging them. It was almost as if they were all playing a game, and he was the main character! Childe shouted, and people almost seemed to throw themselves out of his way. He was giddy, high off the feeling of power and adrenaline. Then, he came up to the next landing, where a raven haired girl slowly trudged. It was incredibly long, and Childe briefly wondered how she didn’t trip over it when running. “Incoming!” He yelled, throwing himself forward to bulldoze past her. Yet, unlike the others, she seemingly didn’t hear him. She didn’t even turn around, continuing in her track sluggishly. Instead, Childe fully smashed into her back, knocking her to the ground. She fell as easily as if she were a feather, succumbing to her fate with the resignation of a wilting flower, face down. Childe hastened to get off her, his heart still thumping through his chest from the collision.
“Hey, sorry there. Guess you didn’t hear me.” He crouched down to help her up, and yet, when he tried to grab her, he felt no motion. His heart slowed to a stop, and the entire world seemed to grow frigid. None of the other passing students seemed to register as he struggled to grasp what he’d done. Had he really hit her that hard? It wasn’t like he was a murderer or anything! This wasn’t what he’d intended. “Oh no, oh god.” He murmured under his brief, still trying to peel her up from the ground. Despite him flopping her limbs around, she was completely relaxed, with no sign of consciousness. “Hey, c’mon, get up.”
“What happened?” Childe looked to his side, and, thank god, Alyosha was right there, Tugarin panting beside him. From his slightly flushed expression, it seemed Alyosha actually had run up the stairs. Alyosha squatted down to the other side of the girl, attempting to gain a better view of her breath as he waved his hand in front of her. Luckily, Alyosha confirmed she was breathing.
“I kinda crashed into her when I was running up the stairs.” It wasn’t something Childe admitted with no shame. “I thought she’d get out of my way.” Alyosha frowned.
“And she’s just…fainted, now?” For the thought of his new friend having killed someone on the first day of transferring, Alyosha sounded rather calm. Childe tapped his foot on the ground repeatedly, fidgeting with the crimson scarf around his neck.
“I mean, I guess? I don’t know, I didn’t think it would end up like this!” Childe shook the girl’s body, and she let out a slight sound. “Hey, hey, did you hear that?” Alyosha nodded, and Childe shook the girl again, this time with more force, her head bobbling back and forth.
“Ouch.” All she said was a singular word, and then she detached herself from Childe’s grip and rose, as if the ordeal had never occurred. Her eyes, Childe noted with slight irritation, were closed like Pantalone’s, and a white mask covered them. She rubbed her back, but her voice suggested nothing. “That hurt.” Alyosha backed away while Childe froze. She smiled at him. “So you’re the new one. That makes sense.” Childe pointed at himself in confusion, and she nodded, procuring from her own robes a small pin identical to Childe’s, with the exception that a crying dove was engraved instead. Childe turned his pointer finger onto her in recognition.
“You’re Colombina! So you’re the Third then. What, do you expect me to bow?” He was met with silence.
“...Not at all. I’m glad you’re here to join our family.” She briefly bowed and she began to hum a common Snezhnayan children’s song. Childe didn’t know what to say. What was there to tell?. Her once neat hair was now messy, and yet she paid it no heed. Instead, she began to drift away up the ivory stairs, still humming that eerie lullaby.
“That…was weird.” Alyosha remarked, crossing his arms. “She’s not a normal girl, that’s all.” Childe clenched his fists.
“Yeah, totally. She’s not like anyone else I’ve met before.” She was neither strong nor cowardly. Rather, she seemed unaffected by anything or anyone, content in whatever she’s conjured up mentally. Childe shuddered. He didn’t want to cross someone like her. Luckily, she wasn’t on his list of current opponents. Not that he’d want her to be. While Childe was always eager to fight someone stronger than him, something about her seemed eerie. It wasn’t exciting in the slightest.
Alyosha said nothing else, just continuing to walk up the stairs, Tugarin following a footstep behind. Childe regained the spring in his step, accompanying Alyosha on the way up. They walked together in amicable silence until Alyosha broke it with a question: “so are you a Fatui harbinger?” He asked this casually, yet Childe could see he was avoiding eye contact.
“Yeah, I’m the new Eleventh! Impressive, huh? It’s an honor. Well, what’s it to you?” Childe was honest. He’d rather not chase away someone who might be a future friend, yet a relationship based on deceit was not one at all. Alyosha didn’t say anything.
“...I see. Nothing’s wrong with you.” Childe chose not to point out that Alyosha had chosen the wrong word, instead opting to offer a fist bump, which Alyosha slowly reciprocated. Alyosha was, Childe decided, much like a dog, though perhaps unlike eager Tugarin. He was more like a slightly grumpy, cautious yet caring old dog. Alyosha whistled, the same one as before, and Tugarin slunk back into the shadows, disappearing.
“Hey, where’s Tugarin going?” Childe stopped walking, reaching out for the husky dog, but Alyosha pushed his hand aside.
“Dogs are technically not on the Hogwarts List of Pets, so I think it’d be better for Tugarin to stay secret for a little.” Alyosha’s face betrayed no emotion, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Childe laughed, breathless from the combination of walking up the stairs and being relatively amused.
“So you’ve actually read all their rules?” He couldn’t believe someone could sit through all that. It was almost unfathomable.
Alyosha was cross, a frown barely visible. “And what’s so wrong with that?”
“Well, I figured I’ll be breaking some rules when I get there, so no need to get too familiar with them.” Alyosha frowned, unpleased with Childe’s answer, his eyes shifting around. Childe felt the need to clarify that he was not involved with Dark Magic. “Not that I’d do anything crazy of course! Just mess around a little.” Although his words didn’t mean much, Alyosha relaxed.
“Then, it’s fine. I know the rules for both of us.” Childe couldn’t see his whole face, but he swore that Alyosha sounded gentler than before. Childe began to babble about his childhood, his hometown, his siblings, his favorite hobbies (ice swimming in the winter and fishing in the summer), and most importantly, his dream of becoming a great wizard and duelling against Mavuika. Sure, most of the wizarding world perceived duelling as an intense necessity, but Childe enjoyed it as a leisurely pastime. With it, he learned that Alyosha, too, had grown up in a similar village. Childe cheerfully looped his arm with Alyosha’s and deemed them brothers in life, a title that Alyosha neither embraced nor refuted. And so, the two climbed the steps to Hogwarts.