"How dare you call me a jackass, do you know who I am? My father will hear about this you rat!" The blond seethed, walking up and furiously pointing his ebony wand towards Five's forehead.
The boy merely pushed the wand slowly away from his grinning face with his pale hand so that it was pointed towards the green seat beside him.
"Wow, I'm so frightened of what your old daddy's going to do." Five said with a tone of faux fright, leaning forwards slightly.
"But from what I've observed. You don't seem to have a single ounce of common sense. You're showing me that you're a complete and utter jackass."
"Why you little -"
Lord took a step forwards, his emerald green eyes piercing the blonds soul.
"Abraxas, that's enough. Boys, go. You've already caused enough trouble."
Abraxas and the other three gave Lord a bewildered look, before quickly re-composing themselves and stepping out the the small compartment in single file - mumbling amongst each other quietly as they did so.
While the boys were escorting themselves out of the compartment, Five made a mental note to himself as he spotted a mistake in his calculations from his peripheral vision, his body itching to get his hands on a pencil or pen of some sort so he could correct his stupid miscalculation.
His eye twitched ever so slightly, jaw clenching.
The thing that irked him was the fact that he never, ever made a mistake.
Boy did he need some good coffee right about now.
The tall boy with wavy, jet black hair seemed to notice the seemingly younger's diary and un-still hands, reaching into his deep blazer pocket and pulling out a long wooden stick - passing it to the old teen.
"Thanks." Five said as he used the small pink rubber end of the skin-coloured pencil and erased out a section of the formula, quickly writing down the correct equation - which was still somehow neat, as if it was written on a typewriter, despite how carelessly and fast he seemed to write.
"Upon your entrance through the front doors, make sure that you stay off to the side."
The black-haired boy advised, breaking the moments of unwavering silence they had between them.
Five looked up at the boy and nodded, not completely sure of what Lord was talking about.
The teen walked soundlessly out of the carriage, his hands still clasped behind his back - midnight black cloak billowing slightly in his wake.
His silver pin shined brightly in Five's eye for a second before the door closed with a quite clack.
Once the compartment was empty, the old-timer paused his rapid scribbling - taking the time to glance at the bright sun outside that seemed to shine without a care in the world.
As if it didn't know that the world was coming to an end.
Five huffed and cussed to himself as the door slid open again, the thing nearly adding a large splinter on the train as it slid open and furiously hit the brown wooden frame with a loud bang.
Another boy, shorter than Five, with platinum blond hair, black round glasses and yet another green and black cloak stepped in - squinting for some strange reason.
An excited look quickly overcame his face, mouth opened slightly.
"Someone told me that you were on this train, didn't believe it at first - but now that I'm looking at you for real." The boy's voice was slightly squeaky, words running at a fast yet understandable pace - all crisp and articulated.
He closed the door gently, smoothing his hands down the sides of his cloak, brushing out an irritating crease in the garment - running his hand through his short, snowy hair.
"Andre, Cicero Andre - fifth year, Slytherin. Nice to meet you, Five Hargreeves."
He stuck out his hand, standing up as tall and straight as he possibly could.
Five shook the Cicero's small hand, instantly becoming more curious at the mention of his name.
"And you know my name how, Andre?"
The boy gave an innocent grin that screamed mischievous in it's own way, something that very few people would extract from that first couple of facade layers.
"Well you see, I'm a half blood. Mum's a muggle, dad's a witch. And there isn't a single muggle, or half muggle out there that doesn't know your - or your family's - names and faces. Heck, even some pure-bloods know about you guys.
Reginald Hargreeves, the eccentric billionaire that adopted seven kids all born on the same day.
Your stories are fascinating, your's in particular.
I was devastated to hear that you had gone missing, but now, now you're back.
What did you do? Seventeen years, you were gone."
"Well." Five said with a sigh.
"The story isn't exactly short, but I'll say this." Cicero seated himself on the seat opposite the old teen, silently placing his heavy, brown leather trunk beside him.
"It's been much longer than seventeen years. Forty-three is the correct number. I spent forty-three years alone in a world that held nothing but dead bodies and ashes."
The blond had unconsciously leant forwards, completely captured by every word that flowed out of Five's mouth in those ten seconds he spoke.
"You don't look a single day older than 15."
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