Hogwarts: Upon the Threshold

3: Petra Weintraub

Petra approached the compartment door with a nervous optimism.  She had been by Christian’s side nearly all of her stay in London so far.  She had met his friends, his family and his neighbors, but always with him to provide the introduction.  Home, she had not been a shy girl, at least not until the most recent times.  There were still voices within the compartment.

“Hobson, you are simply being obtuse and obstinate.  There is positively no reason for you to be making such an event of this.”  It was a girl’s voice, with a practiced flow and perfect diction.

A boy’s voice answered.  “Ms. Wraxton, I fear that I must insist.  I do beg your forgiveness, but it would be completely improper for us to share a compartment alone.”  His voice too had a formality that Petra did not expect, but where the girl’s was anxious, his was calm and collected.  Her first thought was that she was listening to a young teacher casually keeping his patience with a very excited first or second year.

She was not relenting.  “But you will happily share one with me as long as we have a third?”

“That would be considerably less improper, Miss Wraxton, yes.”

Petra winced a little as she tried to adjust her suitcases in her hands and peer around the doorway.

“Pardon, ist es hier besetzt?”  She could feel her cheeks warm with her intrusion, hastily adding, “Is there room?”

The boy turned and smiled at her, a warm and genuine grin of greeting.  “Oh, Guten Tag, Fraulein.  Nein, nien.  Bitte!”  His accent was rough and unpracticed but no less welcome.

Petra’s spirits soared.  “Ahh-- Du sprichst Deutsch!  Gott sie Dank-- ich hab’ Deutsch so sehr vermisst.  Ich verirre mich so oft und mein Englisch is noch schwach.”

The boy’s face showed his sudden frustration.  “Oh.”  His eyes darted between the other girl and Petra.  “I am so terribly sorry,” he continued, “but I did not understand a word of that, miss.  I’m afraid that you’ve already heard the long and short of my vocabulary.  That is, unless you’d like me to offer you another cup of tea.”

Petra made herself smile, attempting to hide her disappointment.  For a moment she had quite forgotten where she was or what she was pretending to be.  She closed her eyes a moment and tried to refocus.  “Thank you for the attempt, herr,” she said finally.  “Is there room for me here?”

The girl stood up from her seat and took hold of one of Petra’s suitcases.  She put the bag on a seat, and then reached out to shake Petra’s now-free hand.  “There assuredly is room for you.  I’m Desdemona Wraxton and it is very nice to meet you and add you to our compartment.”  Before Petra could say a word, Desdemona turned to the boy.  “There.  Now you and I are not alone and you stop your foolish chivalry and just sit down already.”

The boy shook his head and folded his hands behind his back.  Desdemona eventually released Petra’s hand, which the boy reached to take.  .  “James Hobson, at your service, frauline.”

Petra sucked her lower lip in and chewed at it nervously.  “Petra Weintraub,” she said finally.

James reached for her other suitcase and helped her into the compartment.  “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Weintraub.”

The three sat down and enjoyed a quiet moment to breath.  James still looked a little disconcerted with the arrangement.  Petra’s first impression was of a gentleman valet or the like.  Her own father had never hired such help, but they had visited family friends who did.  Petra looked out the window.  It would be more proper to say that their family friends had employed a valet for the house.  She remembered hearing that they had let him go.  A slow sigh escaped her as she thought of home, quietly watching the bustle along the platform.