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There was something soul crushing about not being able to find a compartment to sit in.
It was such a tiny thing, completely insignificant in the long run, but it almost had Peter in tears.
It made sense, really. Everyone would want to sit with their friends so they could prepare for a new year. No one wanted a first year in their compartment. Especially not a squeaky little socially awkward first year.
But even in the compartments which first years had managed to claim, no one wanted Peter.
It was ok. He didn’t mind sitting in the corridor.
He just wasn’t quite sure what to do with his suitcase.
Or how to avoid whacking his head on the wall.
Or how to not trip up the older students running down the corridor.
Or-
“You alright there mate?”
The boy was shorter than Peter, and skinnier than Peter, and handsomer than Peter. His eyes were a rich brown a few shades darker than his skin, and his black hair was ruffled in an almost stylish way.
Peter did an awkward thumbs up. “Never been better.”
The boy raised an eyebrow skeptically and held out his hand. “Come on up. There’s plenty of space in my compartment. To tell the truth, there’s plenty of everything in my compartment- people, food, bad smells...”
Taking the boy’s hand, Peter stumbled up to his feet.
The boy wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders and led him down the corridor.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
“Peter Pettigrew,” Peter squeaked out.
The boy gave a smile that told Peter everything he needed to know.
This boy would be popular. This boy would be loved. This boy had probably grown up in a warm house, surrounded by friends, with a rich knowledge of magic. This boy would have students and teachers alike falling at his feet.
“The name’s Potter,” he said. “James Potter.”
James Potter would be everything Peter wanted so badly to be but could never achieve.