Time flew by swiftly. Around half past twelve, a bustling noise echoed down the corridor.
A charming woman with dimples pushed open the compartment door, gesturing toward the small cart she was guiding. She looked at three kids engrossed in their books and asked, "Darlings, fancy some snacks from the cart?"
Ron, already distracted, lifted his head first, glanced at the array of snacks on the cart, and awkwardly smiled, "No, thank you."
As he spoke, Ron pulled out a bulging plastic bag from his pocket, a few squashed sandwiches crammed inside. They didn't look too appetizing, and he struggled to muster a smile, muttering softly, "I brought my own sandwiches."
With that said, Ron swiftly set down the sandwiches he held, shifting his gaze out of the window. Elena noticed Ron's ears turning red again; evidently, he wasn't too pleased with his sandwiches.
"Apologies, ma'am, I'm good, too," Elena declined with a shake of her head. It wasn't about mooching off others for food or drink.
In fact, ever since the trip to Hogwarts that day, Elena's little stash had been confiscated entirely.
Whether it was pounds or Galleons, they were all "safeguarded" by those pesky adults to prevent her from sneaking off to cause any mischief elsewhere.
According to Dumbledore and Benedictus' unified stance, if Elena wanted something, she just had to tell them. But as for handling money herself, at least until the start of term, it was out of the question.
Thus, apart from a large box of snacks, Elena was genuinely penniless at this moment, unable to buy even if she wished.
"Hey, Ron. If you don't mind, I'll trade this with you."
Turning her head to the silent Ron, the silver-haired girl contemplated, walked to her trunk, and fetched a box of gold foil-wrapped chocolate balls, handing it to Ron.
"When we boarded, Fred mentioned Mrs. Weasley taking care of you seven kids. I reckon she's quite skilled."
"But..."
Ron hesitated, stealing a glance at Elena, subconsciously trying to hide the flattened sandwiches he held.
"Don't worry, this is just regular chocolate. It's Ferrero Rocher, a flagship product from the Italian company. I wouldn't give it to you if I thought it'd make you gain weight."
Raising an eyebrow, Elena boldly reached out, snatching the sandwiches from Ron and then tossed the chocolate ball she held into the boy's lap.
As a microcosm of the wizarding world, especially after reading through the Harry Potter series, it's hard to harbor ill feelings toward the Weasley family.
Almost everyone while reading fantasizes about whether this family could live with a bit less hardship.
After all, apart from not executing family planning properly, the Weasley couple, exemplary parents, hardly had any notable faults.
"You won't like this, it's too dry. It's canned salty beef inside the sandwich, not as enjoyable as it seems."
Taken aback by the sandwich snatching, Ron shook his head, saying mournfully.
"She doesn't have the time," feeling something amiss, he hastily added, "I mean, she has to look after all seven of us... I mean, that doesn't represent Mum's skills."
Ron blushed, stood up, trying to snatch the crumpled plastic bag from Elena's hand.
"Don't worry, Ron. I'm not a pampered missy; 'picky eater' doesn't exist in my dictionary."
Elena shrugged, opening the plastic bag and taking a bite of the now-cold sandwich.
"Know this, when the orphanage was just starting, to save food for the other kids, Dad Benedictus and I could only eat tough, almost stone-like black bread every day."
A hint of nostalgia flashed in the girl's eyes. Benedictus from Spain wasn't well-regarded by the local English church, coupled with a language barrier due to their time-travel, made it a time when the duo did everything to sustain the small orphanage.
London's grim, dirty underbelly under the fog was far more cruel and disgusting than the uninformed Muggle perception. Sustaining a 90s orphanage was like traversing through hell.
Compared to that, what Harry faced in terms of childish ostracism or Ron's family's financial struggles were negligible.
Certainly, it was the place Benedictus felt most assured about. As long as the orphanage existed, Elena vowed not to stray from the right path, a certainty even Dumbledore, despite his unbreakable vows, couldn't match.
"Wait, Elena, you're an orphan?!"
Hearing Elena's words, Ron and Harry widened their eyes in astonishment. To them, the silver-haired, knowledgeable girl was incongruous with the term 'orphan.'
"Strictly speaking, I'm not exactly an orphan... let's not dwell on that."
Elena lightly shook her head, not keen on discussing this matter further. She raised her head, smiled at Ron, and gestured towards the sandwich in her hand, sincerely giving a thumbs-up.
"Truthfully, it tastes really good. Did it have a tomato soup infusion for the beef filling? It has the right saltiness and a hint of ripe tomato juice."
"Then the cheese in the middle is also seared, firmly adhered to the bread. It's really well-made! Not the kind of hastily prepared food you described."
If the British cuisine's skill level was rated at fifty, Mrs. Weasley's skill was at least a seventy. Though the sandwich looked simple and lacked finesse...
But as a foodie, Elena could distinctly feel Mrs. Weasley's heartfelt effort in the slightly seared cheese layer and the beef, marinated in tomato soup.
"Huh? I'm not sure, maybe... yeah."
Ron nodded, a bit bewildered. Though he couldn't understand Elena's words, one thing was clear: his mother's sandwiches weren't as terrible as he had imagined.
"If you like it, it's yours. I've wanted to try Muggle chocolates for ages."
Observing Elena's expression closely, Ron relaxed his brows, graciously waving his hand and began unwrapping the Ferrero Rocher chocolate ball wrapped in gold foil.
Seeing Ron's face light up, Elena maintained her smile. Heartfelt gestures didn't equate to culinary skills, especially considering sandwiches were the epitome of convenience, and this fact couldn't be whitewashed.
However, there was no need to disclose this to Ron. In Elena's view, Ron's later criticism, which irked many, wasn't solely due to this sensitive and immature child.
As a member of the trio, Ron's existence often served to highlight Harry's bravery or Hermione's intelligence, an exceptionally cruel arrangement in itself.
—No one wishes to forever live in the shadow of someone else's brilliance, even if that person is your best mate. Hence the emotional outburst during the Triwizard Tournament.
At home, being the youngest son, unlike Ginny who was pampered by all, Ron found himself at the lowest rung in the family hierarchy.
As he himself stated, his brothers had taken up nearly all the positive role model spots. If he could manage it, it wasn't anything outstanding,
as they had done it before him.
Without unexpected circumstances, Ron would never acquire anything new, wearing Bill's old robes, wielding Charlie's discarded wand, or even using the old rat Percy threw away, attending the ball in an ugly second-hand dress...
Perhaps for the Weasley couple, it was the best they could do in their straitened circumstances, but for a child, it was undoubtedly unfair.
Harry's generosity was a display of kindness, but in Elena's eyes, except for gaining a string of rich sponsors and a sidekick, it hadn't brought much inspiration or change for Ron in a positive direction.
It might have even intensified his self-doubt within.
Because from the start, what Ron needed wasn't pity or to become some great star figure.
What Ron truly needed was simple yet complex—recognition and significance in society and from his loved ones.
That was the truth, but...
Elena glanced, perplexed, at the Ferrero Rocher chocolate in Ron's hand.
The tiny chocolate ball was coated in milk chocolate and crushed hazelnuts. Inside, there was wafer, soft chocolate, and a whole hazelnut. At such a close distance, Elena could distinctly hear the crisp sound when the wafer layer broke under the pressure of teeth.
[QwQ~ (Quietly lamenting in her mind)].
Swallowing a gulp of saliva, the silver-haired girl kept smiling and took another bite of the sandwich—how badly she wanted it, although it was a snack Dad Benedictus specifically bought for her.
And that wealthy chap over there, what's he looking at? Can't he make some gesture?!
Glancing at Harry Potter, who was curiously examining the items on the cart from his seat, Elena inwardly roared with frustration.
At least help her order a pumpkin juice! Don't make her fetch a bottle of cola from her luggage, sabotaging herself?!
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