have mercy {t.r}

1.4 A PLACE TO CALL HOME

chapter four, a place to call home
have mercy, part i

UNDER THE WARM GUIDANCE of James and Miriam Lewis, Euphemia and Tom found themselves sitting in a compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express with several other students. Miriam had fussed immensely over Euphemia, making sure she had everything she needed for the term—James had to remind her that he could owl anything she'd missed so long as it wasn't too heavy.

Much to Tom's dismay, the pair couldn't seem to find an empty compartment, and so found themselves sitting opposite a girl with perfectly curled brown hair that fell to her shoulders. The two friends kept mostly to each other, Euphemia sitting close to Tom to try and keep him calm. He had never really liked strangers, and he certainly hated trying to make conversation with them. She supposed it was because of the other boys at Wool's Orphanage; they had never been overly kind to him, especially when he began to display certain talents that were rather odd to the non-magic world. Euphemia was used to his need for silence and companionship. She rather liked it, too.

She held a book in her hands, reading it carefully and being sure she didn't miss any of the words as the train travelled from Kings Cross Station to Hogwarts. She'd found it two weeks ago discarded on a park bench, and though its publication date was only in nineteen-thirty-four—three years ago—it looked ancient from mishandling and lack of care.

"Murder on the Orient Express," the girl opposite her slowly read. Euphemia looked up from her book, seeing her looking at her with a frown. "Why would you read a book about murder?"

"It's quite intriguing, actually," Euphemia told her. "It's a mystery; a man is murdered on a train, and no one knows who did it."

"Really?" asked the girl.

Euphemia nodded. She thought for a moment before stiffly closing the book and outstretching her arm, offering it to the girl. "You can borrow it, if you'd like," she said. "I've already read it."

The girl took it hesitantly. "You're sure?"

Euphemia smiled and pulled another book from the small bag that sat between her and Tom. "I've got another one for the trip."

"The Hobbit, or There and Back Again by J.R.R. Tolkein," read the girl. "What on earth is a hobbit?"

Euphemia looked to Tom and shrugged. "I don't know," she answered. "Haven't read it yet."

"Oh," said the girl. "It would be really lovely if I could borrow this book. It certainly looks interesting." She held it with both hands, inspecting the cover. Euphemia shuffled back into her seat slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. "I'm Margot Droope," the girl said suddenly.

"Euphemia Banks."

Margot looked over at Tom who stared down at his lap. "And you?" she asked expectantly. Tom looked up at her, then to Euphemia who gave him an encouraging smile.

"Tom Riddle."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Margot said happily.

Tom smiled faintly before returning his gaze to his hands which fiddled with themselves on his lap, fingers being tugged and pulled and smoothed over. He'd never liked it when people talked too much; silence seemed far more inviting to him than making meaningless conversation with strangers in hopes to please them.

The two girls, both trying to be polite, continued to make conversation with one another in hopes of becoming friends, talking about a variety of subjects from books and the emerging cinemas to the bright futures in store for them at Hogwarts.