Raindrops dotted the misty window of compartment number six. Beyond the glass, the landscape was a blur; it was a dreary, overcast day - perfect for traveling.
There were two passengers settled nicely within; both were unoccupied, yet neither spoke a word. It had been quiet in the compartment for quite some time. Upon departing from King's Cross station, Emeline and Eleanor Devereux had resigned themselves to silence.
The occasion, much like the weather, was somber indeed.
Suddenly, the compartment door slid open. A jolly looking woman with brown ringlets and red cheeks peered inside, hoping to make a sale. She was pushing a cart stocked with goodies of all kinds and colors. Her company was well-received by young Emeline. The girl beamed, unable to contain her delight.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" the woman asked.
"Oh my gosh!" Emeline was on her feet at once. "It all looks so good! Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, Licorice Wands..." she glanced at her sister. "Can I get something Nora? Please?"
Eleanor, the girl's elder sister, cast a glance at the woman's wares. Emeline was right: everything looked good. After a beat, Eleanor reached for her pocketbook and produced a coin purse.
"I would like a square of Treacle fudge, please," Eleanor said, "Em, get whatever you like - but don't spoil your appetite. We'll be arriving soon."
Knowing well her sister's ire, Emeline asked for one Cauldron Cake and nothing more. She exchanged three bits of coin for their purchase and promptly returned to her seat.
"Thank you, dear," the plump woman replied, pocketing the change. "enjoy!"
When the compartment door slid closed, Emeline extended her reach and offered the piece of fudge to her sister. Eleanor accepted the gesture without uttering as much as a "thank you." She did, however, nod agreeably.
Emeline, a girl of twelve, was unlike most children her age. She was bold, boisterous - a notorious troublemaker. In fact, her tempestuous disposition was largely responsible for their predicament.
The Cauldron Cake was sticky and sweet. Gobs of green goo oozed out of the pastry with every bite that Emeline took. It dribbled down her chin, thereby dripping onto her blouse. She had yet to notice; Eleanor, however, was immediately aware.
"Emi, for goodness' sake!" Eleanor exclaimed, "you're making a mess!"
"What?" she seemed taken aback, "it's fine! It's not like I'm gonna wear this during the Sorting Ceremony. I still have to change."
Eleanor finished the last of her fudge and stood, reaching into the overhead bin. From it, she retrieved her sister's luggage. The suitcase landed on the leather-bound seat with a "plop."
"Why don't you go and do that, then?" she suggested, unbuckling the suitcase, "here. Let me find your robes."
Emeline gobbled the last few morsels of her chocolatey snack and watched as Eleanor fussed with the latch. Tricky thing, that: the fastener had been broken for years.
"So, what?" Emeline chirped, crossing her arms, "are you Mom now? Am I supposed to listen to everything you say? Do you want a 'yes ma'am' every time you tell me to do something?"
At last, the insurmountable tension between the girls had peaked. There was a bitterness to Emeline's tone; Eleanor did not take kindly to it.
"So long as we are together," she began, "you will do as I say. Do I make myself clear?"
Emeline scoffed and crossed her arms. "Yeah, whatever. You know what? If my mom was here–"
The train rounded a bend. At the very same moment, Eleanor managed to unfasten the latch on her sister's baggage. She fumbled, then, and a pile of Emeline's garments tumbled onto the floor.
Exasperated, Eleanor tore the new Hogwarts robes out of the heap and tossed them at her sister. "Well she's not," she said quiet plainly, "get dressed."
Without another word, Emeline snatched the crumpled uniform from the hand that held it and stormed out of the compartment. Her footfalls were heavy and could be heard as she made her way to the lavatory. Her leave left Eleanor to attend the mess.
A few moments later, a figure appeared in the threshold; the compartment door had been left ajar, much to Eleanor's surprise. She lifted her head mid-tidy and glanced at the new arrival. A smile formed on her lips despite the situation.
Standing by was a boy with dark hair and wide, blue eyes. He seemed to be about Emeline's age, though perhaps a bit younger. Upon closer inspection, Eleanor took note of his attire. The colorless uniform confirmed Eleanor's suspicion: the boy was a first-year student.
"I heard shouting – and then a crash," he said, "can I do anything to help?"
Eleanor, flattered, shook her head. "Oh no, it's all right," she replied, reaching for a bundle of socks, "really, it is. Just had a bit of a mishap with my sister's luggage."
"Oh." He replied, glancing about the space. "Okay."
"But I appreciate the offer," Eleanor stood, momentarily disregarding the mess that she had made. In a gesture of goodwill, she extended her reach. "My name is Eleanor, by the way - Eleanor Devereux. And you are?"
Taking her hand, the boy replied, "Albus Potter."