For the last time

James Wake sat silently in his compartment, idly reading through the last few pages of his Defense Against the Dark Arts book. It wasn't much for the young man to sort through, but it was enough to keep him awake. While he felt a bit guilty for not considering this as momentous occasion as most would have thought, James Wake really wasn't looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. It was old, sanctimonious, the teachers ranged from snoring to preachy, and now that he was liberated of that most dreadful Prefect position, he saw no reason to keep up this charade. His future was assured, money hardly an object, he was perfectly fine maintaining a self-sufficient lifestyle until his Uncle called upon him to pay his familial debt, a debt that would be paid, in a sense, by manual labor he could easily accomplish now...

Where was the point behind this school thing?

James Wake fought the urge to say anything, or do anything rash. It would only land him in deep trouble with a certain someone. So, he sat on the train, like a good little toy and awaited the ride back. It was only a matter of time. Just a bit longer. That was what he kept telling him anyways. The mediocrity of the whole charade was the worst part really. These kids, these little rabbits, all they cared for was shipping and dating. Not once did they stop and consider the power they held, the way they abused it for shenanigans and "fun." In the end, they did nothing more than annoy, which was bad enough an offense.

James Wake turned the page and sipped some tea.

Had there not been a war last year? Why were the kids even allowed back into school? Why did the kids even care. What was going on here that James had missed? Was he thinking far too hard about this?

James Wake recalled the day he fought vampires and saved a werewolf. That's right. That happened. James was not afraid to deny it. It was as stupid as it sounded- were they not equally persecuted once upon a time?

James Wake was clearly bored. He was allowing his mind to wander to places that were far too strange and chaotic to fully accept. Suddenly, the door to the compartment opened...

Jasmin and her family were late this year, so when she finally got on the Train, it was almost full. She hadn’t had the best summer, so she wanted to sit somewhere quiet and calm. As she wandered thought the Train she found a Spot with only 1 other student in it. It was a 7th year boy. Jasmin knew there was something different with this boy, but she pushed it aside, and opened the door.
"As you would have guessed, the train is almost full. I just want to sit and read a damn book. So may I join you" Jasmin asked, knowing she was being rude.

"By all means," came the curt reply from the brown-haired young man, as he turned back to his book, pleased that all she wanted to do was read. "Might I suggest toning down the aggressive tone while you're at it? A sweet voice can prove more valuable than you'd expect." The seventh pretended not to care, but he was already analyzing the girl. Clearly a 3rd or 4th year, if height could be considered a fair judge of age. Her temperament indicated that the girl was beginning to be affect by a variety of hormonal shifts, but this was rarely due to age. Still, it was a good indicator of maturity.

Scratch that- her face was broadcasting her mood to the world. She was dissatisfied with everything in life. James was familiar with the expression- it was usually one students wore on their second day of class when they realized that the party was over and it was time to work. Odd that one would be wearing such an expression on their first day of school?

James surmised that either returning to school frustrated her... or her time outside of school was far worse than she had expected. James kept his eyes on the page in front of him, turning it quickly. He had long ago mastered the art of analyzing his companions subtly. Some were far less appreciative of his little habits than others, and it was better to avoid the subject altogether.

Surprised at the recomposed, and the why he was now looking at her, Jasmin cocked her head to the side slightly, wondering if this boy was analysing her. No, why would he do that. Maybe he's looking at someone behind me..."

"Ok, a sweet voice. I can do that..." Jasmin mumbled to herself, maybe this year she could put her holidays behind and make a few new friends.

Sitting down across from the boy, Jasmin noticed he two slightly different arms, and one was much nicer than the other... No, no interrogations! you are here to read Jasmin thought to herself as she pulled her book out. it was a muggle one. It was part of a series called Hush Hush. This was the second one, Crescendo.

Opening to where she left off she began to read, and every now and then, glance over her book at the boy infront of her.

The girl was curious. She was not adept at hiding it. Inexperienced, surmised the brown-haired man. Her age, still a curious anomoly, could now be placed around 13-15, judging by her reading material. Not the most reliable counter, but her frequent glances said plenty. All James had to do really was glance at the window every now and then. He decided to do something along those lines every time the book said "run," or "escape," as opposed to providing a proper response to a threat. Running away from Dementors? Take a glance at the window. Running away from Werewolves? Peek at the glass of water on his compartment side table. Such things were quick, subtle hardly noticeable.

But back to the subject at hand- the girl was clearly interested in engaging in conversation. Her furtive glances were focused on his hands more than anything else, a clear indicator that she was interested. It was hardly a decent story, generally concluded within a matter of minutes, and he harbored no reservations about sharing such a tale any more. Still, the question was, how interested was she? James kept his eyes on the page, cracking his alchemic arm slightly, each finger flexing with the dexterity of his other hand. The gears and limbs of the fingers slipped slightly as he continued the practice, before moving towards his side bag.

He didn't look uncomfortable, and older. How old is he?! He's a 7th year, but he looks older...
Jasmin kept trying to read her book, but it wasn't holding her. She didn't want to sit here forever, awkwardly catching this guy staring at her, and her at him.

She remembered the last time she felt like this. I was when she first meet a werewolf. she had felt that something was different, and wanted to know. But didn't know how to do it.

Giving up she quietly, and kindly, asked "What happened to your arm?" hoping he would answer her.

So, it would be that way. So be it. James Wake sighed as he closed his book with a clap that echoed through the cabin. He looked at the girl, seeing no real reason to antagonize her over her question. For a moment, James considered denying her the tale. But it was hardly worth the effort. He would end up spending his trip in silence, and the girl's mood would only worsen. The only reason James Wake had to hide his story would be for personal comfort. Hardly a worthy excuse to reject the girl's inquisition.

Curiosity is the gift of an innocent mind.

Still, perhaps it would be wise to prolong tue conversation. A straight telling would only scar the girl psychologically. Not an optimal result. "Well, its not really... my arm. Its hardly an arm to begin with."

Maybe i shouldn't have asked... Jasmin worried, and then he said quietly, "Well, it’s not really... my arm. It’s hardly an arm to begin with.”

What? Does that mean.... It's fake? Jasmin wondered. She placed her book down, and moved so she was slightly closer, but not invading his personal space. So far he had been kind, but he could change.

Jasmin studied him from this new distance; he seemed very kind, and intelligent. He looked like he wouldn't lie to her, but try to keep her "Innocent" mind intake.

Jasmin noticed his hair; it had cute little curls at the ends, and almost meets his shoulders. His face was slightly tanned, but still of Caucasian decent. Then his eyes, his crystal blue eyes. Oh my Gosh! He's beautiful... How did I not see this before??

She decides to keep eye contact with him, until it became painful. You can see to someone's soul in their eyes...

James Wake watched the girl carefully as she seemed to be more and more fascinated with his eyes of all the things. James Wake looked back at the hand, hoping to refocus the subject of the conversation to the subject at hand. "This is a replacement for my old arm," the young man explained, cracking and unscrewing his pointer finger. "While it can hardly be considered 'real' by any length of the imagination. But it had a surprising number of uses," James screwed it back in, as if he were showing off the arm. Yet his face seemed humorless, like he did not particularly enjoy showing off the faux limb.

"Its a Alchemic arm," he explained to the girl, taking out a piece of chalk, drawing a circle on the table beside, adding a list of circles and triangle inside of it before placing his melting glass of water on top of it. "The arm allows me to easily perform my alchemy with little to no additional effort on my part," he concludes, tapping the edge of his circle with two distianced alchemic fingers. The liquid in the glass turned into orange juice in a matter of seconds.