Post by Samaal O'Toole S5 on Jan 2, 2008 16:32:36 GMT
Samaal heaved his heavy black trunk down the train corridor. He looked to the right. A compartment full of Ravenclaws and a few Gryffindors. Samaal heaved his trunk on, snorting with effort. The Hogwarts express was still at a standstill. He ducked his head out of the window. His mother was standing alone, a tall dark figure surrounded by steam and bustling students and parents. She had her lip curled and her hands clasped around her stomach, making her seem even more lonesome. Sauda looked straight at Samaal's face peering out of the open window, and she raised an eyebrow and nodded at him. "Bye, Mother." muttered Samaal mockingly to himself. Sauda turned away without any other sign of having aknowledged her son, and disappeared through a cloud of steam. Samaal smiled to himself. His mother was just as unhappy as he was, having a piece of filth coming to live under her roof. Somebody pushed him in the back. He turned around: a Ravenclaw was trying to push past him in the corridor. "Cut it out!" he snarled, but he picked up his trunk nonetheless and tugged it on down the hallway. He kept on moving down the train until he felt the floor lurch a little. The whistle blew and a bunch of Hufflepuffs fourth-years were ushered on. They pushed past Samaal and headed off in the opposite direction. Samaal felt the train pull out of the station and he continued stalking past the other compartments. He paused at one, a bunch of Slytherin boys were guffawing and had their feet up on the seats. Samaal stopped with his hand on the door handle. He sighed to himself as he saw them burst out laughing at something funny and start slapping their thighs. He pushed past their compartment and slid open the door of the next. Sam was ready to kick out any first-years, but he found that it was nearly empty. There was a Slytherin girl seated in the far corner. Wasn't that the sixth-year Potions whizz? According to a bunch of other Slytherins, she wanted to become a healer. Samaal smiled to himself. A healer. Wouldn't she have to take care of muggle-borns and half-bloods? Hopefully she would poison them. Samaal couldn't think of anything he would like to do. He wasn't sure if he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, it would be a lot more difficult with the Ministry all puffed up. Samaal hated filthy blood, but he wasn't sure if he hated it enough to slaughter dozens. Samaal felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. His father had been hunted down for years and now he was suspected for the crimes he had committed long ago. To throw off the scent, O'Toole had openly declared that he was taking in a distant relative of filthy blood. Now that would get rid of the meddlesome Ministy officials. Samaal's jaw muscles throbbed. The mystery girl went to Hogwarts. It could even be the girl sitting in the compartment. Samaal looked at her hungrily. Was she a pure-blood?
Sam had an imaginary list in his head. The girl was most likely Irish, a half-blood and nearly seventeen. Father wouldn't take in a child he would have to foster for long. This girl was nearly of age, so she would be out of the house once the O'Tooles were out of range of suspision. A Ravenclaw perhaps? She was an orphan and had only a squib-brother who had married Samaal's paternal cousin. The blood-traitor couple didn't have enough money to support all three of them, so when the O'Tooles, much to their astonishment, offered to take in the girl, they incouraged her to go along with the idea. Ever since Father had told Samaal of this news, he had looked every likely student up and down, he was near obsesive with finding his future foster-sister. Samaal brushed the thought aside and looked across at the girl. He tried to remember her name, so he might intimidate her by already knowing it, but he could not remember anything, his mind was throbbing so much. Julia? Juliet? Yes, that was it. "Juliet, am I right?" he said more as a statement, as he took a seat opposite her. He studied her face. Her, a healer? Samaal felt his lip curl in amusement. What did he want to do once he left school? It was a nice thought, the idea of leaving school, being free to use magic and apparate. Perhaps Samaal could look for something to do in the Ministry. He kept his thoughts from his Father and let his mind stray to pleasanter things. What was it he had done in the winter holidays? Ah, he had walked around Diagon Alley with his hands stuffed in his pockets against the cold. And for Christmas? He had sat in a Cafe on his own with a butterbeer. Samaal didn't believe in christmas or family time, but something sank in the pit of his stomach, as he remembered sitting on his own in a steamy little room packed with families and couples. Samaal was too distant from his schoolmates. He hardly saw any of them during the holidays, he took the express home and prowled about the house shooting looks at his parents he barely saw. Perhaps a part of him was glad to have a new person staying in his house. Samaal shook away the thought.
He made a mental note to stay at school next winter. He was better off strolling the vast corridors of Hogwarts instead of those at home. Sam bit his lip softly. He was surprised and annoyed at himself. He wasn't used to thinking of home. He just accepted and aknowledged his house and parents in Dublin. He didn't have any brothers or sisters and he didn't know his cousins. His mother's family was a mystery to everyone including herself. She had escaped from South Africa to Madrid, and then from Madrid to England. There she had met samaal's father and eloped to dublin. And Father? His sister's only daughter had run away with that aforementioned squib, so she had been cut off like a rancid branch would be cut off a blossoming tree. Who else was there? Samaal had seen Adam once, a week before Christmas. The boy was pretentious and uncanningly obnoxious, so Samaal kept his visits to him at a minimum. Snapping his mind back to the present, he looked back across at the girl. She wasn't a bad-looker although her face seemed permently etched with sarcasm and disbelief. A healer.
Samaal looked out of the window. The platform and people had disappeared as the train had rattled around the bend. He saw himself looking at bare landscape. Weak whispy snowflakes floated to the grimy window. Sam looked up at the grey sky. The snow would no doubt be substituted with rain soon. He rubbed some of the dirty condensation off the window and sighed as he rubbed it off on his jumper. He never bothered to look as muggle-like as possible for the journey through London. The disguise and concealment was for muggle-lovers and mudbloods. He wore always his plain jeans and black sweater as well as his school robes and a warm cloak. He remembered a man at the Station stopping Samaal and his father before they went through the barrier two years ago. He was a muggle ticket collector, and obviously thought the duo's appearence hilarious. He chuckled loudly and pointed at their robes and the owl in the cage perched atop Samaal's carriage with his trunk. "You in a choir, eh? Seen alot of the likes of you running around lately!" The collector had looked up at the clock. "Yeah, started coming around five minutes ago. With owls and all! You a choir master or a zoologist?" he had guffawed as he walked off. father had looked at Samaal briefly before twitching his wand in his pocket. The muggle fell to the floor, clutching his nose oozing purple puss. Mr. O'Toole had raised an eyebrow in amusement at his son, before pushing Samaal through the barrier. "Oh! Oh, dear. Poor thing!" Was the last Sam had heard as he caught a glimpse of his Dad running towards the ticket-collector oozing purple puss all over the floor at an alarming rate. That year Samaal had boarded the express on his own and seated himself smugly with the older Slytherins, telling them the story much to their hootings of laughter.
Samaal felt the corners of his mouth twitch a little, in amusement. Let another muggle fool cross Father's path! He looked at the girl again and tried a thin smile, but it came out more as a smug sneer. "Hooray, and off back to Hogwarts!" He jeered, looking back out the window. He smiled at his own joke. Hopefully this term would be any good.
Sam had an imaginary list in his head. The girl was most likely Irish, a half-blood and nearly seventeen. Father wouldn't take in a child he would have to foster for long. This girl was nearly of age, so she would be out of the house once the O'Tooles were out of range of suspision. A Ravenclaw perhaps? She was an orphan and had only a squib-brother who had married Samaal's paternal cousin. The blood-traitor couple didn't have enough money to support all three of them, so when the O'Tooles, much to their astonishment, offered to take in the girl, they incouraged her to go along with the idea. Ever since Father had told Samaal of this news, he had looked every likely student up and down, he was near obsesive with finding his future foster-sister. Samaal brushed the thought aside and looked across at the girl. He tried to remember her name, so he might intimidate her by already knowing it, but he could not remember anything, his mind was throbbing so much. Julia? Juliet? Yes, that was it. "Juliet, am I right?" he said more as a statement, as he took a seat opposite her. He studied her face. Her, a healer? Samaal felt his lip curl in amusement. What did he want to do once he left school? It was a nice thought, the idea of leaving school, being free to use magic and apparate. Perhaps Samaal could look for something to do in the Ministry. He kept his thoughts from his Father and let his mind stray to pleasanter things. What was it he had done in the winter holidays? Ah, he had walked around Diagon Alley with his hands stuffed in his pockets against the cold. And for Christmas? He had sat in a Cafe on his own with a butterbeer. Samaal didn't believe in christmas or family time, but something sank in the pit of his stomach, as he remembered sitting on his own in a steamy little room packed with families and couples. Samaal was too distant from his schoolmates. He hardly saw any of them during the holidays, he took the express home and prowled about the house shooting looks at his parents he barely saw. Perhaps a part of him was glad to have a new person staying in his house. Samaal shook away the thought.
He made a mental note to stay at school next winter. He was better off strolling the vast corridors of Hogwarts instead of those at home. Sam bit his lip softly. He was surprised and annoyed at himself. He wasn't used to thinking of home. He just accepted and aknowledged his house and parents in Dublin. He didn't have any brothers or sisters and he didn't know his cousins. His mother's family was a mystery to everyone including herself. She had escaped from South Africa to Madrid, and then from Madrid to England. There she had met samaal's father and eloped to dublin. And Father? His sister's only daughter had run away with that aforementioned squib, so she had been cut off like a rancid branch would be cut off a blossoming tree. Who else was there? Samaal had seen Adam once, a week before Christmas. The boy was pretentious and uncanningly obnoxious, so Samaal kept his visits to him at a minimum. Snapping his mind back to the present, he looked back across at the girl. She wasn't a bad-looker although her face seemed permently etched with sarcasm and disbelief. A healer.
Samaal looked out of the window. The platform and people had disappeared as the train had rattled around the bend. He saw himself looking at bare landscape. Weak whispy snowflakes floated to the grimy window. Sam looked up at the grey sky. The snow would no doubt be substituted with rain soon. He rubbed some of the dirty condensation off the window and sighed as he rubbed it off on his jumper. He never bothered to look as muggle-like as possible for the journey through London. The disguise and concealment was for muggle-lovers and mudbloods. He wore always his plain jeans and black sweater as well as his school robes and a warm cloak. He remembered a man at the Station stopping Samaal and his father before they went through the barrier two years ago. He was a muggle ticket collector, and obviously thought the duo's appearence hilarious. He chuckled loudly and pointed at their robes and the owl in the cage perched atop Samaal's carriage with his trunk. "You in a choir, eh? Seen alot of the likes of you running around lately!" The collector had looked up at the clock. "Yeah, started coming around five minutes ago. With owls and all! You a choir master or a zoologist?" he had guffawed as he walked off. father had looked at Samaal briefly before twitching his wand in his pocket. The muggle fell to the floor, clutching his nose oozing purple puss. Mr. O'Toole had raised an eyebrow in amusement at his son, before pushing Samaal through the barrier. "Oh! Oh, dear. Poor thing!" Was the last Sam had heard as he caught a glimpse of his Dad running towards the ticket-collector oozing purple puss all over the floor at an alarming rate. That year Samaal had boarded the express on his own and seated himself smugly with the older Slytherins, telling them the story much to their hootings of laughter.
Samaal felt the corners of his mouth twitch a little, in amusement. Let another muggle fool cross Father's path! He looked at the girl again and tried a thin smile, but it came out more as a smug sneer. "Hooray, and off back to Hogwarts!" He jeered, looking back out the window. He smiled at his own joke. Hopefully this term would be any good.
