Don't Come Home Solo Finished

Solo
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First Year ⋆ June 30th, 2020 ⋆ Breakfast

Mars had gotten used to the sounds of clinking glasses and chatting neighbors a long time ago. It was an easy lull to set into, peacefully eating their food as they watched the world around them revolve slowly around the breakfast table.

Usually, you wouldn't catch the Ravenclaw anywhere near the Great Hall during breakfast. Most of the time, even the idea of it made them nauseous and any food they ate before nine am settling like a hard weight in their stomach, stuck for the rest of the day. But today, in lieu of the morning walks or extra time in the shower, they'd decided it might be nice to at least once sit down for breakfast. This was their last day of First Year after all, and something within them wanted it to be special. How odd that they'd suddenly grown sentimental.

The entire year had gone by in a whirlwind. There were too many things for Mars to even truly remember, but they'd never forget that first taste of magic, the first time an arc of light shot out of their wand in a haze of electric power. They'd fallen in love with the feeling from the first spell. Flying was a wicked excursion, an adrenaline rush like no other. They'd had a hunch they'd enjoy it from the beginning, and that truth still held firm. Creatures, astrology, their class and professors, times spent star-gazing on the top of the Owlery, all of it had been something—magical. Mars snorted at their own cheesiness. But really, they couldn't deny the addictiveness of the wizarding world now that they'd been properly introduced.

However reluctant they'd been at the start of the year, they found that Hogwarts had grown on them. It would be—sad to leave these stone walls and high towers for an entire summer, sad to lose the chance to use magic for a whole two months. They felt as though they missed it already. And beyond that, they'd actually made friends. Or maybe it wasn't quite friends, but acquaintances nonetheless, people who they actually didn't mind stopping and chatting with.

Maybe the change had been good for them. This year, they'd felt rather light, maybe almost social. It had paid off, in a way. There were people in their life, within these walls, who they just might have the capacity to miss.

But then, as great as the pull to stay was, greater still were the images of their brothers' smiling faces, growing clearer and clearer as each minute ticked away. Soon, in a single day, they'd be able to see them all. Mars smiled at the idea of pulling the T'ien boys into a massive hug, of dragging them all to the rooftop to recount the stories of grandeur and magic that they'd experienced this year. God, the amount they missed them, the amount they longed to see them again, was nearly tangible in their heart, a burning pulse through their chest. Just one more day.

Mars picked at their eggs with the tines of their fork. They didn't like eggs very much and eating was already becoming something of a struggle. They sighed and set the fork down, bringing their napkin up to wipe at their mouth. At least Estella's etiquette lessons had been more something].

Their mind drifted back to the Polaris Dorm, decked out in its full starry night glory, where a fully packed suitcase awaited them. Mars had had trouble sleeping ever since—well since the beginning, but the insomnia had only gotten worse since the new curfews had been implemented. But yesterday, for once in their god damn life, they didn't mind being awake so much. It gave them time to store everything away in their duffle bag, to run soft thumbs over the jackets and ripped jeans they'd be able to wear once they got back home and carefully wind their earbuds around the phone that had laid dormant under their bed this entire time. The music was right under their fingertips and, god, they couldn't wait to taste it.

With that in mind, Mars pushed the plate—empty sans the cold eggs—away from them and made to get to their feet. However, these plans were curbed by the sudden appearance of a flock of owls. Carrier owls, if the scrolls tied to their talons were of any indication.

Mars watched in fascination as they swooped through the hall, dropping parcels like little bombs over their respective students' heads. They'd never witnessed this before, the great morning delivery. The girl beside them squealed in delight as an owl dropped a letter into her hands and Mars had to smile. Maybe they needed to eat breakfast more.

Suddenly, they were stirred from their trance by the plop of an object onto their own head. It took Mars a second to realize that it was there, hands stuttering into life as they reached up to grab it. Fingers met paper parchment, sliding down to hit a wax seal. A letter. Subconsciously, Mars frowned. What was this?

Bringing it to a place where they could examine the envelope, two things were made immediately clear. One was that this letter was obviously from Estella. No one else had that obnoxiously pink wax and swirled stamp but the lady herself. The other was that, if this was from Estella, it probably meant nothing but trouble. The woman never bothered to write unless there was truly a need for it.

Quickly, Mars ripped into it, sparing no time on careful openings. The sense of dread had already begun to rise in their throat. What was this letter? What was it going to say?

Finally, with hands shaking slightly, they pulled the folded message out from its shell. They straighten it out and their heart dropped straight into their gut as they took in the swirls of Estella's handwriting.

Dear Miss Mars Baize T'ien,
This is Lady Estell writing to inform you that we are aware that it is the end of the school year. You know as much obviously and I'm sure you are very eager to get home and see your brothers once again for the summer. Normally, we'd have no problem with this, even if you are a hazard to the integrity of our property. But—after much deliberation with Kyron—the two of us have decided that it would be far safer for everyone if you remained at Hogwarts. After that attack, the two of us have been worried sick for the wellbeing of your brothers. You must understand, after all, you love them very much. So, though it pains me greatly, I have to ask that you do not come home. I'm sure Hogwarts will have accommodations for you. Be smart; make the right decision. That is all I ask.
With much sorrow and sincere love, Lady Estella

If Mars hadn't been standing in a room full of other wixes, they might have fallen to the floor. They stared at the words again, re-reading for a second, a third, a fourth time over. Even that "Miss," the title that Estella refused to drop for them, wasn't enough to build an annoyance over the shock. The words remained the same, the message still as clear as day: Don't come home.

Don't come home. Don't come home. They resisted the urge to scream. All year long, they'd powered through with the image of their brothers as a light at the end of the tunnel. And now—don't come home!? The images of their brothers' faces, the dreams of pulling them into a giant hug, of retelling stories, making their eyes light up with the promise of magic, all of it washed away as a bitter flood of bile surged through Mars' throat. F*ck.

Their stomach churned and they doubled-over slightly, bracing their palm on the edge of the table. This wasn't real, was it? The rational part of them told them it was. It was very real, all too real. The promise they'd made to their brothers before heading out the door to Platform 9 and 3/4, the one they'd made saying they'd see them again soon, that one shattered on the ground in front of them, going as cold as the eggs that still laid on their plate. They hadn't gone home during winter break, receiving a letter from Kyron that the family had gone on a holiday vacation. They hadn't seen their brothers in an entire year. They'd never spent more than a day apart from them and now—now another whole semester stretched beyond them and that goal.

What the hell were they supposed to do? Mars wanted to scream. They wanted to flip the table over, shove the nearest full plate over onto the floor, wanted to reach through the letter to grab Estella by the neck and demand she explain. The bile surged in their throat again and Mars groaned. What a mistake it was to eat breakfast today.

Deep down, they understood. Maybe that was the worst part, that they understood exactly why the train wouldn't be taking them back to the Castillion Manor this year. It was something that they'd tried to forget all year, something that they simply had no desire to face. Mars had always found it easy to slip their memories into a niche in their brain, to keep them hidden for safe-keeping. Or maybe more like avoidance. It had worked out really, ignoring the reality of it all in favor of coasting through First Year, building up a personality around themselves that didn't have disaster making up its foundation, that had gotten them all the almost-friends they'd made throughout the year.

But now, it all came bubbling back up. The fear, the anger, the blinding outline of that bloody rose—hell, Mars knew exactly why Estella wasn't letting them come home this year. They knew exactly why.

The Ravenclaw forced the bile back down their throat. They forced the dreams, the promises, the images back into the deep abyss of their brain. They forced the memory, the horrid reality of a murder targeting them, down deeper than it had been before and left it there. They let themselves return to the reality around them. Panic was not an option. There was now, only to figure out what to do.

The sights and sounds of the Great Hall made themselves known to Mars' sense once again. They breathed in a deep breath and turned to the witch next to them.

"Do you know if they're still allowing people to stay here over the summer?" they asked, hiding the letter behind the folds of their robes. The girl blinked at them, surprised.

"No one's staying over the summer, silly. They're holding a summer camp that'll lead up to the Quidditch Tournament and then everyone goes home in August." Mars' brain scrambled for a solution at that response.

"Why?" they questioned slowly. How was it that they missed everything always. The girl gave them a sympathetic little smile.

"Because of all the chaos that's happened this year. The professors decided it wouldn't be safe to stay in the castle," she replied. The wix nodded along with this answer. They'd forgotten about the chaos—they hadn't been there for most of it so really, none of it had made that much of an impression. That burning feeling returned, the one that echoed in the back of their brain. Ugh. Mars shook it away.

The girl sized them up lightly and then dug through the bag at her side. When she turned back to Mars, there was a flyer in her hand.

"Here, this has all the info," she pushed it into Mars' loose grip and they took it absently. The witch smiled and Mars shook themselves out of a stupor, thanking her. She waved a hand, dismissing it, and then turned back to her breakfast.

Mars stared at it. Only until August? They had enough problems as it was and now—they forced the thought away. Moping got them nowhere. Quitely, they pulled a quill from their pocket and a scrap of paper from their notebook. A wave of calmness washed over them as they settled on what to do. There was no changing their circumstances. Right now, there was only to ride the waves, to stare the gun down the barrel, and give themselves the best chance of survival.

Their quill strokes were neat and brutal as they scrawled out a returning message.

Dear My Lady Estella,
I received your letter. I must reluctantly admit that your reasoning makes the utmost sense. It's too soon for me to return what with the appearance of the attacker only a year behind us. Unfortunately, while Hogwarts can support me through the month of July, recent events on campus have prompted the professors to design a camp that will remove us from the castle for our safeties. For that reason, most students would be returning home in August. However, I can't do that. So, as my guardian, I must ask that you provide the funds required for housing and food through that time period.

Mars stared at it for a moment, quill hesitating at their signature. It was perfectly eloquent, just the way Estella liked it—just the way those etiquette lessons had taught. But there was something bitter still in Mars throat, a resentment that they couldn't shake. And beyond that, a sadness. A weakness. They pressed the quill back to the parchment.

I also ask that you provide an extra £106.02 for an item I have been eyeing. I'm certain that it won't be hard to include, seeing as it might be a way to soften the blow of such a jarring notice. I thank you for that in advance. And... and tell the boys I love them. Very much.
Sincerely, Mars

There. With one hand on the letter and one on the flyer, Mars stood. On the way out of the Great Hall, they crumpled Estella's note and threw it in the trash. They didn't want to read it anymore. Right now, they'd focus on getting to the Owlery and then figuring out this summer camp business. From there, they'd have an entire month to figure out what to do after.

Don't come home. The thought sent another pang through Mars' chest. Bile edged at their throat. Breakfast—never again. The wix forced it all down. It was time to focus on something else. Maybe they'd grab their guitar and go out for a stroll. That seemed nice. Right?