Platform 2.33 Recurring

This post, rather belatedly, is for Pin, who won the guessing game in a previous post. As promised, here it is. HP fanatics please don't be offended. Yay three posts in a row. I'm on a posting spree.

Platform 2.33 Recurring. True to its name, the platform stretched an incredible length, hardly in accordance with the guidelines as prescribed by Phyraxia, from which the train had originated. But then, since when had the other nations ever followed the rules laid down by any one nation? On the contrary, rules that any nation attempted to impose upon others would almost certainly be broken or defied (thus resulting in an interesting argument for the use of reverse psychology to cause other nations to self-destruct).

He stood alone at the edge of the train platform, a gaunt, scarecrow figure dressed in a tattered overcoat that had seen better times. Other than his slightly threadbare appearance which hinted of cash flow problems, he was dressed impeccably. Short, cropped hair ensured that he would pass every single haircheck, and his clothing had been neatly pressed and ironed. With his rigid, ramrod straight posture, it was impossible to label him as ‘slovenly’. Slouching was unthinkable. His feet were positioned exactly shoulder-width apart, toes pointing straight forward, exactly 1cm behind the yellow line. And his shoes were a polished, shiny black.

Pynne observed him quietly from her vantage point. Though her interview with him was scheduled to take place much later on at the Academy, she was interested to get a feel of the new Defense Against Demonic Accountants teacher for herself. He seemed calm, and extraordinarily, showed no sign of impatience. He had been waiting there since 4 hours ago.

He was unlike the rest of the teachers, who were familiar with the exact location of the Academy of Magic itself, and could thus teleport there with ease, with the correct passwords. However, the new teacher, being yet unaware of the exact location of the Academy, or the passwords to the teleportation barriers, was now forced to take the train with the other students, the only other way of reaching the Academy.

The Academy’s exact location was a closely guarded secret, known only to a privileged few besides the staff. Given permission to be located somewhere within the borders of Ulutootkia, no outsider dared set foot inside the Academy grounds, and no insider dared set foot outside the Academy grounds, nor was inclined to explore in hopes of finding the exact geographical location of the Academy of Magic. There were even rumours that the Academy itself was located within a space-time rift in Ulutootkia, enabling it to exist and function perfectly well within its own mini-universe.

Pynne checked her watch, another useful invention of Phyraxia, a supposedly secret weapon which the other nations had liberally stolen with relative ease. The train was due to arrive in a few minutes. Already, the platform was starting to fill up with rowdy, boisterous students, eager to start a new term.

Pynne moved towards the new teacher swiftly and decisively. She had a few personal questions that she wanted to ask him before he boarded the train. Pynne hailed him, and introduced herself. The new teacher took no notice, staring straight ahead, as if blind and deaf to all else. Startled, Pynne reevaluated her options. Was he in a meditative trance? She wondered.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t know that you wanted to speak with me,” A voice drawled suddenly from behind Pynne. She spun round, finding herself face to face with the new teacher’s twin, who seemed…The new person looked similar to the other one standing on the platform, yet totally different. His physical features were the same, yet in terms of...being, he seemed to occupy the opposite end of the spectrum, as dissimilar as day and night.

The new figure was dressed sloppily, a seedy overcoat thrown loosely over untidy clothing. His hair was unkempt, and he slouched. He slouched like nobody’s business. He slouched like it was his business, his profession. He slouched like he had studied all the arts of slouching, practiced and honed its art for ages, and had then gotten a degree for it. In fact, he looked so untidy that it even seemed…that all of it was carefully calculated, and he had meticulously placed his coat that way, and purposely stained his shoes in that particular manner, so that even when sloppy, he was at the apex of sloppiness.

As for his eyes…they darted about restlessly, shifty and cunning, the mark of someone used to reaping benefits at the expense of others, the mark of a sly, crafty person, inclined to take advantage of others at the slightest opening. The mark of a true adept. Openly advertising that he could not be trusted ironically prompted people to believe that he was someone to be expressly trusted with their deepest, darkest secrets. He was one who had seen it all, and would not be disgusted at the darkest secrets revealed. He appealed to their inner demons. And most masterful of all, it provided the ultimate disclaimer should he ever betray them.

If not for his skill at magic, which he had amply demonstrated in earlier interviews, Pynne doubted that he would have been accepted. For all his cunning, a spell of revelation had revealed that he could be trusted. To do his job, at any rate. Nothing else guaranteed. Pynne looked deeper, probing, trying to get a feel of his true self. Deep within his eyes, she thought she saw…the mark of someone haunted by something. Was it in his past, or did that thing still haunt him still? She wondered.

He looked at her questioningly, yet the curiosity mirrored within his eyes was clearly losing out to the impatience that also danced within. Pynne glanced back uneasily. The other figure still remained in the same position, unmoving. Following her glance, he spoke arrogantly. “Oh, that? That’s just my golem. Necromancy’s my secondary profession, you know. A passing interest that I picked up ever since…I got my magical powers.”

“A golem?” Pynne echoed incredulously. She had heard of golems before, but the secret to their making had been lost centuries, and never rediscovered.

“Yup. My necromantic knowledge is foreign, just for your information. From another world. As you can see, I tend to be slightly…narcissistic,” he gestured, and Pynne understood. His golem was the embodiment of orderliness and perfection, and it was no coincidence that it perfectly resembled him.

He…what was his name again? Pynne silently concentrated, and a simple memory spell reminded her of his name, even as the train entered the station, and a disembodied voice politely requested that people give way to alighting passengers. His name…was ESC.

“ESC, I’d like to ask you something,” Pynne ventured. When he nodded his assent, she continued. “I’m given to understand that you are a foreigner to the Six Nations. I’d like to know more about why you came into this world from your original dimension in the first place, and how you acquired your magic, if you are comfortable with it. What are your origins? Why did you apply for this job?”

Suddenly, his eyes shuttered, hooding his emotions. Pynne noticed that he stood slightly straighter, more warily, as if on the alert. “Tell you frankly,” he replied. “Since you don’t look like a suitable candidate anyway. This job is just to support me financially, until I can raise enough capital to start my own business. My coming here has got something to do with getting someone to carry my baggage, to unload that burden upon someone else…but enough of that, I don’t wish to speak about the rest.”

Hefting his baggage, he bellowed, “Porter!”

His aim in this world is to relieve his baggage? Pynne thought incredulously, with a touch of skepticism. What has the porter got to do with all this? Is he another Twoflower, dumping his Luggage onto an unsuspecting Rincewind? Mystified, she could only watch, as a sulky boy with a prominently scarred forehead appeared.

“But Professor, school hasn’t even started. You can’t give me detention for what I did just now!” the boy protested.

“I don’t care who you are, boy, nor do I care about your exploits, vocal or otherwise. I did not call for you. Now, I need to ask a favour from you. Will you be so kind as to go away and leave me alone?”

“Oh, but I’m interested in what this boy is up to, Professor ESC, “ Pynne interrupted. “Now, if you will excuse me?” Smiling grimly, she led the scowling boy away.

ESC looked at the retreating figures, shrugged, and shouted, “Porter!”


PS Pin is literally interested in what the boy is up to. Right?
PPS For those unfamiliar with the reference to Twoflower, Luggage, and Rincewind, don't mind it, it's contextual. Go read Terry Pratchett.