Platform Nine and Three Quarters
Sirius Black stepped confidently through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters. He rolled his wand absently in his hand as he emerged, glancing around at the newly materialised scene. The platform was bubbling with chatter and emotion. Heads were bobbing excitedly within a sea of 'goodbye's and 'I love you's. To his left, the red and black steam train almost twinkled in the light. Sirius read the 'Hogwarts' insignia and felt a surge of exhilaration. He gripped his trolley tight and eagerly rolled it closer.
"Will Master Black be requiring his travelling cloak?" croaked the small creature trotting at his side. Sirius had almost forgotten about the elf, and he'd certainly forgotten about the cloak. Without a word of thanks, he stooped to collect the robe and threw it haphazardly across his trolley.
"Don't miss me too much, Kreacher," cried Sirius, beginning to race towards the train. He was glad to be rid of the elf, whose eyes had been trailing his every move since they had departed Grimmauld Place. There was something about their dark, empty stare that made Sirius extremely uncomfortable.
"Master Black," the elf called, and Sirius cringed. Kreacher was trailing after him persistently, his fingers outstretched as though to catch at Sirius' robes. "Master Black, you must remember your parents' wishes."
Sirius stopped pushing the trolley and snapped around to face the elf. "I know Kreacher, I heard them the first time. And the second, and third as well." He drew his hands up before him and began waving them about dramatically, "You are not to dishonour the Noble House of Black, you are not to act in any way as to shame our family. If we hear word that you have done so, you will be transferred to Dumstrangs before the term is out. Mark our words, young man. We will not have the respect and reputation of this family diminished by a disappointment such as you. You may not live up to our expectations, but you are still a Black, the Noble blood still runs through your veins. Do not bring more dishonour to this family than you already have." He let his hands fall, leaning close to the elf. "I know Kreacher, I've heard it."
Those eyes looked on him with cold indifference. Sirius shuddered and pulled away, returning his grip to the trolley. "You are to return for Christmas," Kreacher said, his husky voice unwavering. Sirius gave a bark of laughter as he began to walk away. "Unless of course you do bring dishonour," the elf said quietly, a vindictive smile stretching across his pale face, "Then you'd best not return at all."
/
James strutted down the corridor, his wand balanced precariously behind his ear. With an air of confidence, the young boy was working his way down the length of the train. He glanced into every compartment as he passed, assessing each occupant for their worth.
"Nope," he chuckled, passing a gaggle of laughing seventh year girls. "Definitely not," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at a scary looking third year. He continued in the manner until he was almost at the end of the carriage.
With a sigh he paused at the next compartment. The occupant was a chubby little lad about his age, with pale blond hair and a fist full of candy. James glanced back down the hall and shrugged: it was either him or the ugly grease ball and his red head friend next door.
Reluctantly he peeled back the compartment door, running a hand through his messy hair as he entered.
"I'm James, James Potter," he said confidently, standing before the boy. "You don't mind if I sit with you." It wasn't really a question, but the boy nodded avidly. "It seems the rest of this carriage is full of losers," James concluded plopping himself down on the seat opposite.
The chubby lad watched him intently, almost in awe. "Yeah," he squeaked, "Losers." He shifted nervously in his seat, frightened that this impressive James Potter would realise he was one such loser.
"Give me some of your candy?" James asked expectantly, his hand outstretched.
"Sure," the boy beamed, eager to facilitate. He shoved a packet of chocolate into James' grip and sat back excitedly. "I'm Peter, my Mum calls me Pete."
James nodded absently, examining the chocolate wrapper with a faint frown. "Cadbury," he mumbled, "never heard of it. Wait on, this is muggle stuff isn't it?"
Peter smiled weakly, "Yeah, I'm muggle born." He nervously busied himself with munching on his own stash of candy.
"Hmm, good for you," James said happily, breaking off a square and placing it in his mouth. Peter looked up, his eyes wide. James did not notice the admiration dripping from the boy's expression. "Not bad," he nodded, "pretty excellent actually. I hope you've got more of this."
Peter beamed and sprang from his seat. Beginning to rummage through his trunk over head, he pulled down piles and piles of the rich purple wrappings. "Plenty," he grinned, his little round face reddening with excitement.
"Excellent, mate," James said, munching contentedly. Peter looked as though he would explode with pride.
/
Remus sat alone in the furthest compartment, pressed up against the glass with a book in his hand. Absorbed in the volume as he was, he did not notice as the train shuddered into life and departed the platform. It was not until the suburban sprawl had turned into rolling hills that he looked up.
"Hi," said a small voice from by the door, "can I sit with you?"
Remus twisted in his seat to face the red head girl by the door. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her eyes red from crying. He simply nodded, unsure how else to respond.
She gave a small smile and moved to sit opposite him. "I'm Lily," she offered, extending a hand towards him. Remus looked at it cautiously, hesitating before he lowered his book to reciprocate.
"Remus," he said, shaking her hand. Lily's smile broadened as she settled back in her seat, turning her gaze out the window. Remus snuggled against the glass once more and returned his attention to his book. For a time they remained in comfortable silence.
The morning sun was giving the scenery outside a honey tinge. Trees raced past the window in streaks of warm yellow. Lily attempted to immersed herself in its splendour, but found she could not be distracted. She gave an involuntary sniff, to which Remus looked up.
Lily had brought her hand to her face and was tracing her fingers across her cheek to rid the tears. She looked so very sad, so very alone. Remus could identify with that desolate expression, the feeling of isolation that hung in her eyes. He felt compelled to comfort her, to place a hand on her shoulder and tell her it was ok. But something held him back. Instead he slackened his grip on the book, leaned forward in his seat and whispered.
"Lily," he said quietly, "are you alright?"
She looked over to him, her fingertips still lingering against her cheek. She gave another sniff.
"Yeah, I'll be alright. It's just... my friend and I, we had a fight." She let out a sigh and dropped her hand to her knee. "I know I don't know you, Remus," she said, her voice wavering, "but... would you mind if I..." She looked down to her fingers, twisting them about one another.
Remus remained quiet, watching as another tear rolled down her face. She did not finish her request. Instead she gave a resolute shake of her head and looked up, her green eyes hard.
"It's just that he, my friend... he changed so much the minute we came through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters. I don't know, I'm probably being silly, but it's almost like he's ashamed of me. I don't know what I've done, but every time someone passed our compartment, he'd act like I wasn't even there... like he didn't even know me." She looked back out the window, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you think it's terrible that I'm muggle born, Remus?"
In shock, Remus took a moment to absorb her confessions, rolling the final question over in his mind. Was it possible that the students of Hogwarts could be so judgemental? The thought of what they would think if they discovered his blood status sent a shudder down his spine.
"No," he said finally, his voice no more than a whisper. "Lily, of course not." He followed her gaze to the rushing scenery outside, "There are far worse things to be in this world, trust me."