Carvings and Countdowns

7 RL

"Platform nine and three-quarters?", Uncle Simon looked up in confusion, "I don't even see that."

"Well, I'm assuming it'd be between platforms nine and ten", Remus slugged his burlap sack over his shoulder and walked steadily. He was thankful he had fully recovered from the last moon, or else his shoulder would be in excruciating pain from the weight.

"Yeah, no shit sherlock", his Uncle scoffed, "But where?"

"Probably where those kids are running to", Remus pointed and then witnessed a red-headed boy fly through the wall and disappear on the other side, "Sometimes you don't see magic unless your eyes are open to it."

"Clearly", his Uncle huffed and walked up to him. He handed him the covered cage with Octavia in it, and ruffled up his hair a tad, "You be safe out there, okay? I expect a few letters, and even fewer black eyes, 'kay?"

"'Kay", Remus nodded with a smile, "Don't get too lonely without me", he laughed and turned on his heel, "Love ya!", he called out and disappeared into the crowd.

He started running toward the platform before he got a chance to hear his Uncle say it back. He just wanted to get on the train already. New beginnings, a fresh start, and a seat secured secluded in the back was what he was hoping for.

He meshed through the concrete wall and onto the other side to see a train waiting promptly for the students on the tracks. A long train it was, with a vast forrest and blue-grey sky surrounding it. He looked around at all the kids. Some looked to be eleven just as he was when he started, and some seemed just shy of eighteen or so. This school already seemed bigger, with more people and happier faces.

Remus boarded the train before he stood out there any longer. He didn't want to run into anyone just yet. He wanted to save the friend-making for when he was acclimated to the new surroundings. Just a moment to take it all in, that's what he was using this train ride for.

He walked to the back and to his surprise, found a compartment to the right with no people sitting in it yet. He sighed in relief and sat down, putting his belongings in the compartment overhead beforehand.

One hundred and forty-two compartments, he thought to himself.

He didn't know where it stemmed from, or why it became second-nature to him, but his mind was constantly running numbers. Whether it was countdowns of his own, time in between bus drop offs, or compartments in the train; his mind seemed wired to constantly be calculating. He figured it was a coping mechanism, a way to make sure that his mind was still his own, for it so often felt like it wasn't. Wherever he was, however he felt...he could always rely on numbers.

They were his universal language.

Aside from that, his memory never served him well. He'd forget something that had happened two seconds ago, and if he didn't make a mental note of it, he'd have trouble remembering it all together. That's why he was always talking aloud, taking mental notes, and trying to be as observant as he could. Re-wiring his mind was almost more difficult to endure than losing it once a month.

He was now thirty-two pages into his book since he sat down on the train, and nearly all of the students were starting to shuffle in. Tuning people out was another talent of his, but becoming irritable at the noise was still in his vices.

Most of the seats around him were taken now, filled up with excited energy and conversations to catch up over the three-month summer. He was beginning to get lost in his own world again, reading the pages and pretending as if he were the main character as his imagination roped him in.