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Bobby Burkinson, The boy who had it all. He was everything a luscious pureblood family would want. To achieve, a feeling of accomplishment. To rule, a feeling of entitlement. To feed, the crave of hunger. These things are what made him who he aspired to be in the wizarding world. "Why would they leave me? Why would they put me away as if I was useless? Imperfect? a complete and utter nothing.." His thoughts reconciled. The air was filled with magic, chocolate cards and flavored beans being stepped on at the second, and the smell, like strawberries in the summer. He could just taste the sweet treat on his tongue, if only.

Bobby grabbed his luggage, followed by tugging lightly on his pet owl Pola."Oh come on you dumb twig! I didn't spend my last galleons on you for this!" He mumbled a slight curse under his breath entering the cruise as he walked forward, entering what appeared to be simply magnificent."Holy.." His mouth dropped in awe, nodding to himself in secret of the compartment room. He sat his luggage down, cracking his neck with a short sigh as he crossed his leg over the other.

"Now..if only I had a little mudblood to keep me company." He chuckled to himself, watching as fellow students passed by into there rooms. Bobby would have three others join him, and he wasn't one for a great conversation about simply anything so to himself, he was all that'd be needed. He pulled out his wand sitting it on the table next to him, slouching in his seat as he stared at the pouring rain, dripping and dropping against the hard steel glass. "It'll break..eventually." His snickering became depressing and his urgency to walk in such a close space became disturbing.

His ramblings came to a holt, as the woman opened the door. "Anything off the trolley dear?" He responded hastily, grinning with a slick smile that could break a mirror, shutting the door fast in the poor woman's face."I don't need anything from the fowl likes of her."He thought to himself in delight. Bobby was on the verge of being completely out of it. He was a mental nutcase that was entrapped inside, waiting to talk to someone other than himself. With no time needed he exited, walking to the back where a small crowd of student's were.

____
“I'm gonna sit right here until I die...” Waylon whispered to himself as he sat on the edge of the barrister of the stairs. He looked around, cautious and nervous. This was always the worst part of the journey up north. He could handle the horse ride from his ranch to the town square, and the bus ride to San Antonio, and the train from San Antonio to Miami. It was the trip from Miami to the Isla Magica – unseen by Muggles- westbound through Central America, and then up the coast, that always got to him. Perhaps it was the fact that the ship was a few centuries older than it should have been, or that the leap across the isthmus involved typhoons and parachutes, but it was probably the fact that Waylon Willard Wolfsbach hated water.

It was Waylon's final year, luckily. The second-to-last time he would ever have to take that downright awful journey. Soon enough, he wouldn't have to look over the edge and see mermen and their dangerous smiles, or the salty foam as the ocean slammed against the hull, or the far-off distance of oil rigs in the distance. And he certainly wouldn't have to babysit wizards and witches who hadn't even broken in their wands yet.

Normally, there would be a few professors aboard – perhaps a chaperone or two. This time, however, there seemed like ridiculously fewer professors and a drastic increase of students coming aboard. Could simply be, however, that the weight of the student body was no silently on his shoulders.

The kiddos were coming aboard in fashionable efficiency – Waylon directing prefects from a distance. A few times, Waylon had to jump up to regain order or make a quick decision. But that was simple. It was the sort of skills he had learned on the ranch – delegation was key. As the afternoon wore on, however, Waylon found himself patrolling a few of the levels, himself; at least the ones open to students.

Head Boy Wolfsbach didn't have too many friends – none of them overly close, at least. A few of the younger prefects had looked up to him last year, and a couple of his fellow seventh years fell victim to his affectionate hugs. But he didn't like to reveal too much to anyone, and he certainly never dawdled. Back home in Wolfsbach – yes; it's named after his family- it was the same situation. Hell, he could count on one hand how many people knew anything tangible about him.

He wasn't lonely, however. And while there was much to be said and what he was missing out on, he also had a few advantages. For one, most of the guys at school had no idea that the Texan in the corner was checking out their ass. That part was always especially fun with Arietem boys. And the girls always seemed to lull at the sound of his drawl. Oh boy! His drawl! Like a drop of honey in winter!

Florence, his wolf, lorded above from the forecastle, never particularly bothering Waylon. The two had a symbiotic relationship, oftentimes of one mind. Perhaps it was their shared history, or something more. Regardless, he was a patient and tolerable companion.

Just when it seemed it was time for Waylon to find himself a spot in the boat, a large crowd of students started to gather on the quarterdeck. Frustrated, tired and downright grumpy, Waylon's attempts to get prefects to break up the crowd were in vain. Like moths to a flame, every prefect seemed to just become a part of the crowd itself. He had no other option.

“Break it up, y'all. Time to get back down below and stop worryin'...” Waylon stopped.

Rose couldn't believe she found herself boarding the ship for the third time. Though the crowd seemed to be a whole lot bigger than she remembered. The petite female sighed as she continued to drag her suitcase behind her with her caged owl, Ginger in her left hand. Ginger had been one of her best friends ever since she had gotten her. For the longest time she believed Ginger was the only one who could understand her. As much as she loved living with her foster parents, they didn't understand. They were muggles. They had no idea what it was like being a witch, going to Magnus Grexx, they had no idea what was going on in Rose's life anymore. As much as she tried to explain things to them, it just never seemed to help them understand.

Times when she wanted to talk about her experiences at Magnus just made her want to be able to know her birth parents even more. Though once she realized that her parents died in a house fire and she was the only one who survived, she just couldn't seem to understand why that had happened. Why was she the only one? Rose needed her parents in her life, she needed someone she could relate to.

Rose couldn't wait to look around for Natasha. She was the only one from Vulpes house she was really looking forward to seeing. If it weren't for Natasha, she probably wouldn't have even gotten through the previous year. The two of them seemed to get along pretty well, though she wasn't too sure on if she would consider Natasha as any more than just a friend. Even calling her her best friend was pretty far-fetch in Rose's opinion.

Last year wasn't the best year for her. Many people seemed to pick on her and bully her just because she was a mudblood and with how small Rose was, she wasn't all that well with sticking up for herself. She also had a tendency to bite her tongue when she had a good few choice words to say, but she never wanted to cause any problems.

Finally she had made it to the quarterdeck and spotted Natasha, speaking to Waylon. Rose never really got much of a chance to get to know the male, but she never found herself having any problems with him. So she considered him to be a decent guy. She smiled once she found herself accompanying the two of them and spoke. "Hey Natasha, Waylon," she started as she glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," she added as she set her suitcase and owl cage down beside her.

Rose just couldn't wait to get off this ship. She was never a big fan of crowds...or being on a ship for that matter. She always seemed to get a bad case of seasickness, a couple times she even ended up puking over the edge of the ship. Rose just hoped that wouldn't happen to her this year. That was the last thing she needed to happen to get everyone drawing their attention to none other than herself.

His frigid fingers were tightly intertwined as he stood among the bustling crowd of students that were making their way onto the grandiose ship, some of them pushing past him without giving him so much as a second glance while others, particularly third year girls, flashed him small, flirty smiles. He was a foot taller than the majority of the students around him so he had a pretty good view of the variety of faces that were coming and going, and whenever his green eyes met someone else’s he gave them a polite, timid smile.

The freckled boy was given the honor of being a Prefect in his final year at Magnus Grexx; this had been his dream since the start of his first year. At the moment he was doing a fairly good job performing his duties, considering that all he had to do was direct people to various locations and sound kind while doing it. His voice was soft and his eyes were warm; he was trying.

Stephen Schwarz had arrived early as usual, and after depositing his items in his quarters he had some time to simply stroll around the ship and take in the majestic architecture for the second-to-last time. He knew that a lot of people were weary of the journey across the water for a variety of reasons, but Stephen was one of the few individuals who didn't put much thought to it. This wasn’t to say that marine voyages were his favourite thing in the world, but often times when he was on the ship he forgot he was even there and not on land.

It suddenly dawned on him that he probably looked very awkward just standing there, reminiscent of a statue, so after adjusting his black, thick-framed spectacles with his index finger and straightening out his pine green sweater vest, he decided to patrol the area. With his luck he would have to get in the middle of some sort of scuffle to stop it and probably get socked in the nose much like he did the previous year, but he pushed the thought aside. More than anything he wanted to flee back into the comfort of his quarters and pull out one of the many leather-bound novels he brought with him, but he knew it would be a while before it was just him and a book. He also remembered that he was sharing the space with Abraham Delavergne, and he wasn’t too keen on seeing the wanker’s smug smile or hearing his obnoxious west coast drawl.

Not to say that there was any obvious animosity between the two boys, but secretly Stephen sometimes wished that somebody would jinx Abraham’s broom during a Quidditch game and gravity would then take effect.

Abraham hadn’t been on the ship for more than an hour and he already had a migraine that was threatening to make his head spontaneously combust. It wasn’t even the ship itself as much as it was the loud, obnoxious voices and laughter of the first and second years. For some reason they couldn’t figure out how to use their inside voices.

He had haphazardly thrown his belongings down in his quarters and was about to leave when Stephen ‘I-look-like-I’m-sixty’ Schwarz had wandered inside. Though there wasn’t a nasty exchange of words between the two, the tension was still palpable and Abraham could not get out of there fast enough.

Okay, so perhaps he was the one that started the ‘Stephen Hawking’ name calling during first year. But by the time Stephen found out about it, it was too late to figure out who started it. In all honesty, the kid brought it onto himself. At least, that's what Abraham told himself to cover up the fact that he did have some sort of regret brewing inside of him.

Abraham shook his head at the thought as he casually made his way out from below and on deck. The air was coated in the sweet, delightful smell of sea salt; he could feel the humidity settle in his hair and against his face. It was hard to believe that this was the last time he would be riding this ship to Magnus Grexx; it didn’t feel RIGHT. To say that the thought was saddening was a complete understatement. Truth be told, he hadn't thought much about what he would do after he finished his education at the school. Of course, his father wanted Abraham to follow in his footsteps and be a fine professor at Beauxbatons, but Abraham just knew that wasn't something he would ever end up doing if his life depended on it. He lived for Quidditch.

After scanning the crowd of faces, he saw Waylon from a distance and began heading over, his hands stuffed in his front jeans pockets. "Hello," he mused once he was close enough, then smiled a small smile at the boy and glanced at the two girls who were standing next to him. His dark brown eyes met the brunette girl's eyes and his lips curled upwards into a half-smile-half-smirk toward her as well.

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Homesickness had already hit long ago, on the long road trip that had brought her here to this very moment. Standing with her arms crossed in the sea of swarming students. Body tucked in tightly to prevent any accidental touch between her and those who went by her - like a ghost, nobody stops to actually see her. Every year is the same, no matter how much Nora loves Magnus Grexx she always feels so alone. She finally begins moving, wading through the crowd carefully. She doesn't want to draw much attention to herself just yet.

She spots a few students she knows, not personally of course but their faces are ones she has seen quite a few times. She sees Natasha and Rose among the little crowd and raises her hand to wave, but drops her hand when she spots Abraham Delavergne there among them. She doesn't know him at all, but knows that hes Arietem and the majority of her encounters with members of that house haven't ended very well. Instead she smiles politely and continues on her way, feeling more self-conscious than ever before.

---

The compartment she is in is empty, Nora is glad for it. She tucks herself into one of the seats. Content with staying in that position no matter what. The rocking motion of the ship has already began to make her feel nauseous. Nora wants nothing more than to sleep for the duration of the trip but the last time she tried to do that she woke up with a pounding headache and felt sick for days afterwards. Instead she digs in the small bag that she carried around with her, she grabs her copy of 'a history of magic' and begins reading where she left off. Even though she has already read this book about a million times since buying it she still enjoys it greatly.

'Mreeeoooww' Grumps angry meow alerts her to the fact that she hasn't let him out of his carrier yet.

The poor cat is probably itching to stretch his legs. She reaches over to flick open the latch, watching him dart out as if he thinks she will close the door on him before he can escape his prison. He meows again as he hops into her lap, his claws poking the skin of her leg. She winces and strokes a calming hand over his fluffed up white fur.

"Silly cat," She says to him. He relaxes finally, laying still in her lap. The vibration of his purring almost soothing as she goes back to reading her book and awaiting the long journey to end.

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For all of his usual complaints Teddy has never been more happy than he is right in this moment. Unlike most he actually enjoys the trip to Magnus Grexx. Even the rocking of the ship as it hits wave isn't enough to dash his mood. He noticed that very few students had made their way into their quarters yet, so he stuck around for a while chatting with various students until the weight of his backs became far too heavy and Cassiopeia began to flutter her wings in annoyance. He quickly deposits his belongings where he will be spending the duration of this trip and returns top-side to continue socializing with the other students.

Most of the first years are looking around in wonder, its easy to tell them apart by the way they seem overly excited. He remembers being that way in his first year as well. Back then he had been a chubby boy who got on every ones nerves within a few minutes. He had made very few friends during that time, and hadn't kept many of them over the years. Teddy only began to see an influx in the amount of friends he was gaining during his third year, when his over all attitude began to calm down a little.

While walking around he spots Nora Gray, looking exactly as she does every other time he sees her. Utterly uncomfortable and painfully shy. Teddy feels pity for the girl, who can't even get up the courage to talk to her peers. He doesn't approach her, figuring his presence would only make her even more uncomfortable. Instead he walks past her, heading deeper into the throng of students.

Stephen smiled slightly as he prowled through the ship. It was strange how some people just took a magical ship for granted due to repeated exposure to it. Did anyone wonder what spells were worked into this living piece of history? The sheer amount of people who took the same ship to the same destination over and over again for hundreds of years? Really, it seemed that people rarely saw beyond their own nose.

Speaking of people who saw little beyond themselves, he heard the predictable snottiness of Bobby Parkinson and the reaction it elicited in those around him. Sure enough, a group of people began to gather together in a compartment a significant distance from said fool. He smiled politely at the gathered throng before raising an eyebrow at the person he recognized as Natasha. He always liked the girl. She was downright pleasant to be around and attractive no matter how much she changed her appearance. Her abilities were fascinating. He envied her, truthfully. To control a type of magic so rare was something money or influence could never buy. Nor could hard work, he found to his disappointment.

"Sterling silver today, Natasha? You wear it well, as always" he stated before nodding politely at the others. There were some he knew better than others, but there was no reason not to be polite. Stephen pride himself on rarely ever being rude. Spotting Waylon, he grinned.

"Ah, Waylon. Has the Muggle Rite re-instituted the Latin Liturgy yet?" he asked, focusing on one of his favorite topics. Latin was the language of history and scholarship. It was still taught in many pure-blooded households and Stephen thought that Magnus Grexx should make the class mandatory. Why the Muggle Catholics had mostly abandoned the language for Holy Mass, he could not fathom.

____

“Break it up, y'all. Time to get back down below and stop worryin'...” Waylon stopped. The crowd was getting a little restless and fierce, and overly loud for his control. Waylon never had the inclination to raise his voice more than usual – his voice was deep and it was always slightly painful to get louder. Nevertheless, it was his responsibility. He saw the Burkinson boy walk up, smug and alone as usual. The only reason Waylon even bothered knowing the boy's name was that he was actually quite cute.
Of course, however, trouble always seemed to come to Waylon, first. Fortunately, this time the trouble was quite pleasant. None other than the endearing Natasha Daggerman, loveliest lady of House Vulpes – and a real darling. Waylon had always been a little sweet on the redhead, and although she was smiley and fun with everyone, he always felt safe to be around her.
"Waylon! My favorite country bumpkin!" she approached him. "How was your summer? Well, never mind, we'll talk about it when we're in our compartment far away from this riot. We are sitting in the same compartment, riiiiiiight?" Waylon's face, turning to see the Vulpes girl, was caught in both shock (at being called a country bumpkin) and joy at finally hearing a friendly voice.
“Now, now! Didn't your mama never tell y'all not to call people names, Natasha?” He raised his nose up at her, crossing his arms, in mock judgement. But his face lacked seriousness – Natasha always commanded a smile across his face.
”My summer was fantastic. A few of the cows were late in labor, but we had another seven calves by July. It was great! One of them was even a bull! Y'all should'a seen it.” Waylon's drawl was always thicker when he got back from Summer, but he always wondered why people giggled (especially Natasha) when he said “y'all.” ”And, of course we're sharing the same compartment! I'm offended you would even question that! Of course, it all depends on when and if I can get everyone in their compartments and figure out what's causing this damned block. God willing and the creek don't rise. Or in this case, er... the ocean.”
"Hey Natasha, Waylon," Rose greeted them, glancing between the two. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," she said. She set her suitcase and owl cage down beside her. Rose was a cute girl – and a very smart one at that. But they weren't overly close, understandably so.
”No, of course not, Rose. We were just catching up – ya know, exchanging the obligatory insults and all that. How are you and Ginger?” Waylon always loved to talk about other people's pets – especially the owls. He waited for Rose's response, and shortly after he found himself smiling as the very handsome Abraham Delavergne approached the threesome.
Waylon always had a love/respect/hate thing for Abraham. In terms of hate, Abraham was a natural leader, charming and confident; Waylon was timid, affectionate and... servicing. As prefect, he “had” authority, but the power dynamic between them was always up in the air. In terms of respect, Waylon was a very capable prefect and always saw his own role as that of servant of his peers. Therefore, he could always respect Abraham when the other boy could rile up a crowd and dictate social policy. And in terms of everything else... well, Waylon had spent many hours in the confessional about the various thoughts he had about Abraham. Of course, none of that mattered because no one cared and nobody was interested in Waylon anyway.
"Hello? Just hello???" Natasha teased the blond, "Abraham Claude Delavergne, if you came all this way just to be uncharacteristically taciturn, then I suggest you either leave this conversation, or return to your usual outgoing disposition." Of course Natasha would follow up with a hug! Natasha always followed up with a hug. As to her lack of hugging him, he would simply guilt trip her later for an even better hug. Her eyes flickered to Waylon, Rose, and Abraham respectively. "I want to see you all in my compartment later," she said, "the one that I'm going to go find right now before the boat starts setting sail. I'll be back." Waylon gently nodded.
”Natasha is right, though.” Waylon smiled big towards Abraham. It wasn't so much that they were close. Waylon wasn't even sure if Abraham even saw him as a friend. Waylon Willard Wolfsbach, however, is a master of goofy smiles and enthusiasm for what little bit of warmth he got. ”I was going to say: seven years with us weirdos and all you have to offer is a 'hello'? Well I'll be darned, what in the Sam Hill is that? I would force a hug onto you, as well, but ya know. Never give a wasp a honeycomb!”
Stephen Notwood stopped Natasha as she stepped away, a conversation a bit too quiet for the rest of the group. But nevertheless, Natasha smiled even larger, responded and continued. Notwood then turned to the rest.
"Ah, Waylon. Has the Muggle Rite re-instituted the Latin Liturgy yet?" he asked Waylon, focusing on one of their mutually favorite topics. Latin, though the language of the Ancient Romans, was carried on by the Catholic Church for almost two millenia. Latin was gradually dropped in the 1960's in the Second Vatican Council. Catholic Latin – ecclesiastical or church latin, as it is known- differs slightly from Classical Latin, biggest difference being in the pronunciation of certain consonants. Waylon was well-read in church latin, coming from a longline of traditionalist Catholics; this was often a point of contention in some classes. When the professors pronounced latin spells and potions in Classical Latin, Waylon's immediate response was to stubbornly correct them in Church Latin. It was perhaps his most obnoxious trait in his public life.
Stephen Notwood liked to bring up this very same topic everytime he saw Waylon after a long absence. Perhaps it was just Notwood's inner troll, or a genuine interest, but Waylon took the bait everytime. ”Not quite, yet,” the half-blood replied, ”oh, but we're still holding our breaths. My uncle, the monsignor back home, says all the Masses in Latin under dispensation from our bishop. Some of my kinfolk refused to go to Mass until that dispensation was enforced. 'Course, there is definitely room for English... when German or Latin doesn't suffice.”.
The Ferre Prefect, the other Stephen, inched close enough to the group for Waylon to beckon him. Perhaps it was the germanic surname or the freckles or the cute glasses – or just everything in general- but Waylon was extremely excited to have Stephen Schwarz on the prefect team. Responsible, intelligent and kind'a adorable, he was a perfect colleague. ”Hey Schwarz, I don't mean to bother you. I'm having difficulty with this crowd. Can you see if you can get them orderly, again? If not, we might have to find a professor.” Having addressed the other prefect, he gave him an innocent wink and shrunk into a submissive smile.

"You're not interrupting anything, Rose," the petite brunette smiled and wrapped her arms around Natasha, returning the hug that she was honestly needing ever since she left home. Here lately home life wasn't all that great. As she grew more and more interested and knowledgeable about her witch side of her, her parents seemed to slowly begin pulling away from her; as if they were terrified of her. Though she honestly had not clue why that was because Rose couldn't even hurt a fly, yet alone her own family.

"Hello," a familiar voice stated from behind her while she was still enveloped into Natasha's arms. Once the hug ended she turned her attention towards the male, finding a blonde with gorgeous hair that she secretly always wanted to run her fingers through, though she would never admit that to anyone, not even herself most of the time. When their eyes locked for a couple moments, she felt her heart beat speed just a small bit. Rose was never one to fawn over anyone, no matter how attractive they were, but for some reason every time Abraham happened to be around, she would just grow a bit quiet. She always had a feeling there was something about Abraham she hadn't known because of the way he always seemed to act around Waylon. Though the thought just made her feel a little upset. But she just shrugged it off and returned the soft smile back at the male who stood almost a foot taller than herself.

"Hello? Just hello??? Abraham Claude Delavergne, if you came all this way just to be uncharacteristically taciturn, then I suggest you either leave this conversation, or return to your usual outgoing disposition." Rose just chuckled softly at her comment. Of course Natasha would have something to say. There was never a moment that she remembered when Natasha never had a comeback to anything. That was one thing she always envied about Natasha among other things. Though she never allowed this to mess with their friendship. Natasha was really the only friend she had at Magnus Grexx and if it weren't for her being in her life, she probably would be much more induced by loneliness that she already was.

"I want to see you all in my compartment later, the one that I'm going to go find right now before the boat starts setting sail. I'll be back." Rose just nodded her head at the redhead's words and watched as she began to make her way through the bustling crowd to look for a compartment, leaving her alone with the guys. Rose always seemed to feel a bit uncomfortable around attractive guys by herself, though she knew Waylon was into guys whether he wanted everyone to know or not she still couldn't help but find herself enveloping into nothing more than her shyness.

As the two boys exchanged their words about the Latin subject she just folded her arms across her chest and glanced down at Ginger, he companion. If anyone knew what was running through her mind right now, it would be none other than her owl, Ginger. She knelt down beside the cage and slid a couple of her petite fingers through the bars and pet Ginger to the best of her abilities. Rose just couldn't wait until they arrived at the castle so she would be able to allow Ginger to stretch her wings. She hated keeping her in a cage, but on the ship, it was mandatory for owls to stay caged.

Finally she heard Abraham turn his attention towards Rose while Waylon was speaking with another prefect, one of whom she never really had a chance to get to know, nor did she think she ever would. “Not feeling sea sick, are you?” she heard him state as she removed her attention from her loving pet and gave a polite smile up towards him. At first she had forgotten about the whole seasickness, though once he asked she question it had returned and with a bang.

The brunette quickly stood to her feet and pushed through the crowd towards the nearest edge of the ship. She threw her head over it, hurling chunks into the water. Thankfully Rose remembered to eat something that morning. Usually she doesn't eat much for breakfast but most of the time nothing at all.

Though of course something like this would happen to her. Just because she didn't want attention drawn to her, it was going to happen. She sighed as she finally stopped hurling and raised her head back away from the edge of the ship. Her cheeks flared up into a solid pink from nothing more than embarrassment as she noticed some students, both younger and older laughing and staring at her, even making subtle comments.

Just as she turned her attention back to the group, she realized that Natasha has returned, signaling for them to follow her to the compartment. The female sighed as she slowly walked back over, trying her best to calm her stomach as she held a hand over it. She reached down to grab her owl cage and suitcase before tagging along behind Natasha towards the compartment.

Once inside she sat down opposite from Natasha by the window and placed Ginger on the floor by her feet and slowly began to raise the suitcase up in her arms to set it inside the compartment above their heads that holds luggage. Though her petite arms began shaking from the weight of her suitcase, a slight blush plagued her face as she turned to the others. "Could someone help me?" she questioned in her soft, timid voice.

____

Waylon couldn't help but brim with excitement when Abraham snuck an affectionate moment with the Texan. “Oh come here,” the blond boy had said to Waylon, then proceeded to pull Waylon into a quick hug. Waylon's face was clearly frozen, his heart sinking, as he was unsure how to react. Should he hug back? Should he try to squeeze every opportunity out of this moment and make it a warmer, closer embrace? Before Waylon could decide, it was over and Abraham's cocky smile was plastered all over his face.
Waylon's eyes popped out of his head, his heart leaped and his mind seemed to disconnect with reality. Staring at Abraham, he couldn't help but think there was something... more significant there. Did Abraham know how pathetic Waylon really was?
People never seemed to understand why Waylon was so quiet. Maybe he was just so used to not getting what he wanted, that he just stopped trying to get it. He took what came to him, cherished it and moved on. It wasn't worth fighting for because there were other people fighting harder. He tried to shake away his yearnings for the handsome man next to him as the Stephens entered the fray.
Stephen Schwarz responded to his beckoning in a very Schwarz-like manner. He seemed to mumble a response and lift up his pocket watch, but Waylon could only barely decipher what he was saying. The timid young man was more extreme than even Waylon. You see, Waylon was reserved but not quiet – shy, but not timid. Schwarz was a fantastically cute guy, but always seemed to be caught up in something else.

All of a sudden, a five-foot-something first year ran right into Schwarz, almost knocking him off his feet. More surprising than the fact that someone can be so blind was the fact that Abraham reached out and steadied him, then turned so that he could look back at the first year with a powerful glare burned onto his face. “YOU HAVE EYES FOR A REASON, so get your head out of your ass and use them.” Abraham’s voice alone was enough to send someone running for the hills, but as soon as the first year caught a glimpse of his furious eyes he scurried off without so much as a glance back. The outburst made Stephen raise his eyebrows, and he could only imagine the look of surprise on his own face. He readjusted his spectacles much like he did in awkward social situations and cleared his throat.
The reality was that the outburst shocked the whole quarterdeck, lulling the crowd into a tolerable hush. The opportunity seen, Waylon lost not even a single moment to corral the students up into orderly lines and towards their compartments.
In what seemed like a flash, Natasha was back at the quarterdeck just as the lines began to swell down the stairs. It was a bit shaky because the whole vessel was moving, but it was nothing a person would lose balance over. "Found a compartment. It's a rather big one, so we have to hurry before it's taken," she said to the group: Waylon, Abraham, Rose and the two Stephens. "Follow me,” she exclaimed, turning around and rushing back down into the dark.
"Could someone help me?" Rose questioned the boys in her soft, timid voice. She probably meant for one of the boys who were more... inclined towards her. But Waylon's immediate reaction with all requests was to do them. Without missing a beat, Waylon grabbed one of her bags and looked at the other boys to grab the rest.

Without thinking, he grabbed Abraham by the elbow and said, “Come on, y'all. Never stare at a stampede's ass.” He eyed Schwarz and directed him to manage traffic as he ensured him that he would indeed save a seat for the freckled boy. It would only be a moment, and the kids would listen to him.
By the time they had almost caught up to Natasha, in the empty hallway just outside the compartment, Waylon let go of the blond's wrist. He had finally realized the discomfort and confusion he had caused. “I 'm sorry, hoss. I... don't know what that was about. I just wanted to get down here quick, and did what seemed natural. I definitely didn't mean to embarrass you like that. Forgive me?” He sunk back into his shyness and gently kept the door opened ahead of them so he could maintain some semblance.
As they stepped in, he gently placed Rose's bag in the corner, smiling at Natasha. The compartment was a larger one, indeed. Large enough to hold at least six or seven students. Waylon knew what sort of compartment this was. “This is a teachers' compartment!” Waylon exclaimed, bolting with enthusiasm. He was sort of giggling. “This one is normally filled with tired teachers, but this year we only have two teachers aboard and they aren't using it. Thank God! Am I right?”
“Rose, did you have any more luggage to carry? If not, I'm going to get mine from the lounge, and grab Florence. Y'all don't mind wolves, do y'all? Is everyone good? Can I get anything for anyone? Some tea or water? Maybe a hug?” He smiled, let his questions sink in, and waited for any responses.

On his way past Schwarz, he relieved him and directed him towards the compartments. Before he left him, he pulled him into a soft hug and saying, “I'm so glad to have you on the team, this year. You're a really great guy.” Before the other boy could respond, Waylon stormed off so that he could grab his luggage.

Honestly when Rose asked for some assistance with her luggage, she was shocked when she found that Waylon immediately went to help her. She smiled over at him, "Thanks Waylon," she stated to him as he sat her luggage down beside her. She found herself glancing out the window, feeling a bit shy around all of these people she doesn't really now. The only one she felt truly comfortable around is Natasha.

"How are you?" Natasha questioned to Ginger. "I bet your mama took very good care of you over the summer..." Rose smiled as she watched the blonde talking to her owl.

Rose noticed Natasha remove her attention from Ginger and towards herself. "I miss not having a pet," she said, "although if I were to get one, I don't know if I'd want a cat again, or if I should change to an owl. I guess I'll decide sooner or later. There's no way I'm getting a toad, though." she chuckled, "They're so freaky-looking..." Rose chuckle a bit at Natasha's words and nodded her head in agreement, "That's for sure," she responded with a sigh. "When we have the time maybe we could go pet shopping for ya," she stated to Natasha, thinking it would be a great way for the two of them to spend some time together after the long summer that was behind them.

She couldn't help but to notice Natasha picking up a newspaper from the floor and begin to scribble some words onto the paper and handed it over to Stephen, the freckled boy who was sitting next to her. She was a bit curious about what was going on but decided that she wasn't going to get into it. It was none of her business, if Natasha wanted her to know what was going on she would tell her.

Though when she heard Waylon's words she just shook her head at his offer, "Thanks for the offer but I'm fine for right now," she stated. Mainly because she didn't want to eat anything while on this ship after finding herself puking over the edge of it just moments before. Rose couldn't wait until they got to Magnus Grexx so she wouldn't have to worry about feeling nauseous again. Then she would be able to get some food into her stomach and have a great time.

Rose crossed her bare legs and pulled her skirt back down just above her knees. That was one of the main things she hated about wearing skirts and dresses, she constantly has to make sure they haven't risen up too far. She then let out a soft sigh and leaned her head against the window and stared out, trying to calm her stomach down. The last thing she needed was to get sick in the compartment. The brunette closed her eyes as she placed her hands upon her stomach.

____

All that Waylon could think about was the way Abraham had responded to him, and how much Natasha really shined in a crowd. And also about how much he had neglected Schwarz in the past. And how much he wished Rose would come out of her shell. Dammit! Waylon couldn't sit in judgement – he had a two-by-four up his ass, half the time.
“I could get used to being dominated like that.” Those words kept ringing in his mind. Abraham was never dominated – he was the dominator. He was an Arietem boy, dammit. What was Waylon even doing, anyway? Why in the Sam Hill did he drag the boy down to the compartment like that? And what was that wink all about?
Waylon hated these questions. He hated all questions, really. And then again, he didn't know how to stop asking himself them. He had to circumnavigate the easy answers and come to very complex conclusions. The right answer cound never be the ones most obvious to Waylon. If you wanted to hide something from Waylon, you just had to put it in right in his face.
Waylon's bags, and of course, Florence the wolf were waiting for him by the forecastle, near the front of the ship. One of the professors aboard was up on deck at the moment, enjoying a puff from his pipe as he inspected the crew. He tipped his bowler hat to Waylon as the Cervus boy passed him.
Florence pounced up as he saw his brother beckon, his wolf tail wagging in simultaneous excitement and boredom. He had been laying on Waylon's luggage – partly to keep it safe, and partly because the wolf didn't like laying on the floor of the deck. Waylon scratched Florence behind the ear and grabbed his bags, leading his other to the compartment.

Back down in the compartment, he spied Rose gazing out into the expanse of the ocean, Natasha scribbling love letters to the Schwarz, and Abraham sitting in his all his masculine glor...
"Strange how the weather outside has changed so much in the past couple of minutes," Natasha asked the group. Without missing a beat, Waylon exclaimed “Damn straight! The ocean's full of surprises. That' why I don't trust it. You can't be swept up in a typhoon or a hurricane or a kracken's belly in the middle of a farm. Only thing you gotta fear is a skeeter. Or cockroaches! Ewww. Or maybe getting' chopped up by some weirdo with a chainsaw. That's always fun.”
He took an inconspicuous seat next to Abraham, not acknowledging him entirely. Waylon cracked an eery smile as he looked around the room and asked, “Okay. So here we're out in sea and I'm not back on shift for another 3 hours. Who wants to help me take off my cowboy boots? I'll get us some sweet tea and we can talk about our dreams and our plans for after school this year.”
He then lifted his boots in victorious display, the black leather shining against the lamps in the room. He then pulled up a part of his pant-sleeve and did a mock can-can dance. “Don't act like you've never dreamt of smelling a cowboy's socks before!”

“Natasha, Schwarz, Abraham. What are y'all gonna do after the school year? What's the plan? I'd ask you, too, Rose,” he nodded to the youngest girl in the room, ”but you've got a couple more to go. But what do you have planned in the meantime?” Having asked that, he gazed up into Abraham's eyes – dreamy- and then over to Natasha. He knew what she had planned, or at least what she was planning as of last May. Those two have had this same conversation several times before. It's always fun and refreshing, but he knew this would probably be one of the very last times he would ask it.
Florence had come up to lay on Waylon's exposed feet, and the canine was fast asleep for a good while. The wolf's bronze, peppered fur seemed to be as dirty as the red earth of Texas. In many ways, it was. Wolves were a rare thing in Texas, these days. The two had met while Waylon was a boy and he was a pup. Waylon and his pa were on a hunting trip, and life, like it always does, took an unusually fortunate twist.

---

Bobby stood at the front of the cruise, looking on at the sight of Magnus with awe and aspiration within. He couldn't control how much his lust for returning outpaced itself. "Ah, fresh air indeed.. He thought silently to himself. He fixed his posture and licked his lips, followed by untying the knot in his freshly green tie. Bobby sniffed, once and again, finding himself uncontrollably sneezing at that. He whipped his nose with his arm, shaking his head as a sign of relief as he peaked over, noticing something strangely odd, grotesque rising to the top of the ocean losing all hope as his face changed from relief to horror within seconds.

They were humongous, rising in the league of hundreds, mermen and maid alike. All holding on tightly to their tridents and pitchforks. But they were waiting, almost as though they had been signaled. With shock came blood, as the skies lit up in a dash of multiple colors, snakes in fact, swirling around the other, almost hissing like a python in the Egyptian deserts. He gripped tightly onto his wand, turning left to face the cold that awaited him.

Men, covered in masks and smoke. Demons he thought? But he knew all too well for what was to come. Screams filled the air, followed by laughter and spells shouting left and right from one another. He fell down, watching the death eaters board the cruise one by one, filling what joy the students had with coldness, rain and death.

He pulled out his wand, breathing heavily with short pauses to catch his breath. Where were the others? Were they safe? Secure? His thoughts mesmerized and changed, crossing his arms as he hid under the cupboard by the deck, surrounded by spells shooting back and forth. "We're at deck! We're at deck!" The captain cried, stopping the cruise to a halt as Bobby exited. Pushing, following and running for his life.

"Dementors! Dementors!" A poor young girl screamed, pointing to the skies as they fell like rain. Bobby could see the carriages in clear view that would lead him to the school, safe and unharmed. He sped up his pace and ran, turning his back to see an all out war still on the cruise. "Faster, I must.." He repeated by the dozens. He could see it, the carriage just a few distances away, finally, he had made it.

Too soon the boy had hoped. Bobby clenched hard onto the carriage door, unknowingly realizing his fate would be decided right there. A word came..followed by a flash of green light. Bobby hit the floor with a face that had been filled with pink now cold like ice. He was dead.

The day had not started out all that different from most others. Sure, it had been an earlier start than usual, and sure, she'd had to say goodbye to her parents, with promises to write and keep hold of the quidditch house cup. But in terms of unfamiliar and strange circumstances, it was all fairly in the norm. She'd dragged her belongings -a large suitcase and an empty owl cage, the latter because Natalie's owl, affectionately named after the white-haired heroine from Game of Thrones, had gone fly-about the day prior- as she searched for her cabin, before abandoning said belongings in order to go wandering about the ship's many decks. She'd weaved through a crowd of second years, and slipped past a trio of snickering fourth years before making her way above deck, drinking in the salty air with a faint smile, and feeling that familiar spark of anticipation for the year ahead. The previous year, she hadn't gotten into too much trouble, and had still managed to remain on her teachers' good lists. Would her seventh be similar? Heh, she hoped not. There was only so much of the same-old-same-old she could take.

Now, she was leaning against the bow of the ship, gazing unto the horizon and returning a wave sent to her by a particularly cheerful mermaid. Noting a presence behind her, she turned, and when her eyes fell upon none other than Bobby Burkinson, her smile darkened slightly. That boy. He really was the least pleasant of company. Even with both of her parents being wizards, he found fault in her heritage. She remembered fifth year, when he'd muttered something about her mother being a 'mudblood', and she'd reacted deftly.

A sharp right hook to his upturned nose.

She opened her mouth to greet him, when, quite suddenly, the boy's expression changed. His terror was clear on his features, and with curiosity, she followed his gaze.

Her own expression soon followed suit.

Men in masks. Dementors beneath their cloaks. An icy air and a feeling of dread. That what she saw and felt as she slid her wand from her pocket and shot a hex at one of the masked figures, "Petrificus Totalus!" and sent him down, before rushing after Bobby, only to catch sight of about eleven screaming first years. Running over to them, she urged them to come with her, leading them inside, following her fellow Arietum further into the ship, trying to comfort and calm the young ones as she did. "Don't worry, everything's going to be o-" A flash of green cut her off and lit up her features, and a figure fell in front of her, his glazed eyes staring blankly, his face eerily pale. As recognition dawned on her, Natalie's eyes widened in horror. "Bobby..."

”Not quite, yet,” the Texan replied, ”oh, but we're still holding our breaths. My uncle, the monsignor back home, says all the Masses in Latin under dispensation from our bishop. Some of my kinfolk refused to go to Mass until that dispensation was enforced. 'Course, there is definitely room for English... when German or Latin doesn't suffice.”.

"Quite true. I have a great deal of affection for the English language. With its patchwork of words and grammar from other languages, there isn't a language like it," the pure-blood noted. With that, he remained mostly quiet, observing the others and contributing to the conversation here and there. The cruise was pleasant and he was looking forward to another school year.

Then, an icy hand gripped his heart and everything went to hell in a hand basket. He cursed and gripped his wand as he watched helplessly as other students fell to an unholy alliance of Death Eaters and Dementors. In a split second he had to make a decision. Would he have a better chance of survival hiding somewhere in his compartment or fighting their attackers?

He calmly stepped out of his compartment and, spotting a group of Death Eaters, he thrust out his wand and softly murmured, "Flipindo Tria."

He watched with some satisfaction as the fools were knocked against the wall by a tornado of magic, losing consciousness. Honestly, it was a third year spell. He smiled charmingly at his friends.

"I really see this as an opportunity to cut loose, don't you?"

As he said that, he grimaced as a Dementor flew towards him. He had not yet fully mastered the Patronus Charm. It took great effort for him to produce a corpeal one.. Quickly, he drew circles in thin air with his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Sure enough, a jet of white vapor erupted from his wand, halting the creature as he grinned, his patronus clearing his mind enough to allow him to regain a happier state of mind. Now then, what memory was strong enough for him to use? Ah yes, last New Year's Eve. He had not gotten any sleep that night.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Sure enough, a luminescent snake was produced by his wand. It hissed as the Dementor before lunging at it and Stephen nodded in satisfaction before he heard a familiar scream.

"Schwarz!"

He ran towards the scream and spotted his classmate and the perpetrator, his mask hiding his expression, but Stephen could tell he was enjoying torturing the boy. He gripped his wand before making a slashing motion, casting the first spell that came to mind.

"Sectumsepra!"

Stephen watched coldly as his spell made a large cut across the man's chest. He cursed when he heard a scream. Okay, it was time to lose the bravado.

"Stephen is not physically injured, but he's not getting up anytime soon," he murmured to the group, not caring in the slightest what they thought of his using a dark spell to leave a man to bleed out. He was not going to think about it now. He stepped down the hall and his heart clenched. He hadn't known Bobby well, but he didn't deserve to die.

"We can give him his last rites later. For now, we can make his enemies suffer greatly before they die."

____

Waylon felt the scream as if it were right in front of his eardrum. It pained him. His heart sank down to his ass, and he felt light headed as he popped up. Stephen rushed out of the compartment, swiftly followed by Abraham. The two 7th years locked eyes for a brief moment – as if everything was going to change. Waylon cursed himself.

His boots were still off when the two had left, leaving him a very tight window to get them back on. He was able to swing them on, but not before the two other boys had already made their grandiose exit.

"EVERYBODY STAY IN THEIR COMPARTMENTS," Schwarz shouted out in the hall.
"Wait, guys..." Natasha exclaimed. But before she had the chance to escape the compartment herself, the door in front of her slammed shut, followed by a heartbreaking clicking sound. 
"No, no, NOOO!!!" she roared, pounding her fists against the wood.
"Son of a banshee jinxed the doors shut..." she angrily exhaled. Furious, she pulled out her wand and gazed out the window. Dementors and colored lights from cast spells were flying all over the place.
She turned to Waylon and Rose. "Stand back..." she commanded, guiding them behind her, and getting as far away from the window as she possibly could before pointing her wand at the wall.
"BOMBARDA!!!"

Waylon coughed and felt the dust of the wood enter his lungs and choke him half to death. Waylon hated not being able to breath. He hated the feeling of suffocation. When the dust cleared, he looked out into the hole that Natasha had opened. It was an opening, but Waylon couldn't use it. It led to the water, and that was worse than the dementors.
Besides, as Head Boy, his responsibility was to the youngin's. He nodded his head to Rose, and looked back to the door. Reaching for his oak wand – substantially larger than most, being that everything is larger in Texas- the Cervus swiflty directed his thoughts towards the jinxed lock. With a flick of his wrist, he tapped the lock, exclaiming “ALOHOMORAH!” The trick was done and the door opened.
Entering the dark hall, he said to his wolf, “Florence, scout the perimeter of the ship. Find the students and help me bring them to the docks. Now!” The wolf, without question, left his side and faded off into the darkness, no longer lit by the extinguished candles.
“Where are the 'fessors?” Waylon asked himself, getting a survey of the hall. It was quiet, but behind the doors of the compartments, he could hear the whines of all sorts of young students.
“Cave inimicum!” Waylon needed to know if these attackers were coming nearby. He had a mission, and although he wasn't a particularly skilled dueler, he excelled at passive spells. He knew the ship, in and out, and he had to get the remaining students out as soon as possible. Whatever the cost to himself.
“Lumos Maxima!” he exclaimed, swinging his wand with precision down the hall to the other side. A ball of light projected and detached from his wand and found itself a spot to tag onto, illuminating that part of the hall.
“Lumos Maxima!” he said again, this time swinging to the opposite direction, illuminating the other side of the hall. That would buy him some time. He ran down the hall to inspect the situation. He could hear the battle up on the deck – it was killing him to not be involved, but he knew he would be a bigger impediment, anyway. He needed to do his duty. He couldn't fail. He couldn't.
“Muffliato!” Waylon exclaimed, breaking his silence, imagining the curse to envelope the inner halls of the ship. With proper concentration, he would be able to create a channel to speak to the students, but muffle his communication to the attackers so that he could maintain some sort of stealth.
Pointing his wand to his throat, he exclaimed “Sonorus!” With the amplification of his voice, he could know speak to the younger students. “Students who are still in their compartments. This is Waylon Wolfsbach from House Cervus. We are under attack. I need you to remain calm and brave. I am going to unlock your doors soon, and we need to remain as quiet as possible. If any of you are still here, I need you to meet me in the foyer between the galley and the stairs up to the quartedeck. If you want to survive, remain quiet and be swift. Quietus.”
He then concentrated his wand towards the hall in front of him, imagining each lock unjinxed. With a flick of his wrist, he exclaimed “ALOHOMORAH TOTALUS!” And with great luck and providence, the doors were unjinxed. Many of the students were rushing out, only for Waylon to quiet them with “Silencio!”
Leading the students up to rendezvous, he met up with another group of students, led by Florence. A few of the prefects were there, as well. He gazed onto the boys and girls, most of them first and second years. They were so scared, or pale, or petrified. Many of the seventh and sixth years were already up top, perhaps many of them dead. Waylon felt himself shutter – he felt like a coward.
He arranged the students in various groups led by prefects. and calmly gave some of the more experienced prefects orders. He was going to barge the students directly through the combat and onto the docks at any cost, even his own life if necessary. A younger boy pulled on his robe and asked him, “Head Boy, sir. Are we going to be okay, sir?”
The Cervus thought for a moment, leaned back and smiled at the younger one. He gave him a tiny wink, a slight smirk, and said softly, “They're just lucky it's not a full moon, tonight.”
He looked back at the group of students – a lot less than he had hoped. But he had to push on, through.
They steadily climbed up the stairs to the quarter deck, the light from the battle illuminating their ways as they went up further. He could hear the muffled voices of Natasha, and Abraham. All of a sudden, a few of the masked men dropped down in front of Waylon and the group. Behind their masks, Waylon could feel their cruel smiles. “Ventus DUO!” Waylon exclaimed, a whirlwind escaping from his wand, pushing the men far off into the distance. “How's that for a Texas Tornado, huh?”
As they left the comfort of the hull, Waylon project a spell to protect the younger students, with some of the other prefects joining in. “Protego!” each of the remaining prefects screamed, casting a shield to protect the younger students. Having only to break his concentration momentarily to make a clear path, he casted “ventus” a few times to clear the way. Instructing the prefects to keep towards the carriages, he attempted to deflect the onslaught of the attackers.

As they came about the beach, he was able to deflect many of the nastiest hexes, although a few had broken through. Sadly, more than a few of the remaining prefects were seriously injured – one even killed. They had to keep moving on, however. Waylon's hear was panging, losing concentration on the battle. Despair was seriously affecting him.

All of a sudden, he heard Abraham shout out “EXPECTO PATRONUM.” Turning his gaze towards the end of the beach, he watched as Abraham's glorious lion rescued Natasha from the hordes of dementors. Freed from them, however, it seemed rather fleeting. Abraham didn't notice the dementors carve they way back to the two seventh years. They were still feeding.

“ABRAHAM!” Waylon screamed! Waylon silently prayed the Pater Noster, hoping that it might invoke some sort of inner strength, as he ran to the boy and girl ahead of them. The dementors were regrouping and doing it quick. He had to provide a distraction and get the rest to safety. With all the things he hid, bottled up, under the light of the moon, memories past... he should've been like a magnet to the dementors.
“Expecto patronum!” the Cervus exclaimed, though it was merely incorporeal. Enough to finish the job that Abraham had started. He found himself reaching Abraham, Natasha in his arms, and grasping to hold both of them. The energy and emotion of it all, he just wanted to know they were safe. For a brief moment, he embraced Abraham warmly.
“Please, Abraham, get up! We've got to go! Just bring Natasha! Please! Hurry!” Waylon was pedantic, almost. All he could do was beg. Reaching out his hand to the blond boy, he attempted to look into his lost eyes. He had so little time, but all of this seemed perpetual. “Abraham, please, not now. I hate this. We can't lose. I can't be alone. I need your help. I need you.”