Arthur Weasley 1961

"Goodbye, mum! We'll see you next Christmas!" Godfrey promised cheerfully to his mother, as he gave her a composed yet affectionate hug before their departure. Cedrella smiled, but her eyes wandered to her youngest son again, to whom she'd moments ago muttered soothing words as he was sobbing in her neck and who had just wiped his tears and blown his nose, standing between his brothers, pulling himself together.

"Do look out for Arthur, will you?" she asked. They all expected Arthur would do fine once he started making friends and entirely forget his home sickness before the end of the week, but if the first year needed something, it was good to know he'd have two older brother looking out for him. Godfrey replied with a smile and a nod.

She sighed and let loose for Godfrey's shoulders, and she and Septimus waved their troublesome trio goodbye as they boarded the train.

Once they had disappeared from their parents sight, Bilius declared he'd leave them to go find where his own friends were sitting, and Godfrey too longed to see Rabastan and Alwinus again. They'd been writing over the summer; Rabastan's younger brother, Rodulphus, was to attend Hogwarts this year as well, so he'd be sharing classes with Arthur. Though Godfrey doubted they would ever be friends: despite his recent conversion from Muggle-mania to Muggle-phobia, Arthur wasn't much of a Slytherin.

"Arthur, I'm going to look for my friends as well. Try find a compartment with some other first years, I promise you, you'll make friends in no time. Just don't talk about Muggle things too much, will you?"

Arthur frowned in worry. "What if they start talking about those things to me? I mean, you can ask who their parent are, but you can't see if someone is a proper wizard or not."

Godfrey snorted. "If they're Muggleborn, just ignore them and talk to someone else." he advised, "About Quidditch. Or if they keep bothering you, you come to me." His face lit up with a malicious grin as he laid a brotherly hand on Arthur's shoulder. "We're Weasleys, you and I. And half Blacks to top. We're talented, intelligent pure-bloods, we can handle a few Muggles thinking too high of themselves. Even if we both have a bragging, boasting, mule-headed ape for a brother."

Arthur nodded, encouraged by his brother's words, and chuckled at Godfrey's image of Bilius. Dear Bill never was too subtle, something he and their mother had had countless discussions on in the past.

So Arthur parted ways with his brother, and went on the search for either an empty or a with other first-years filled compartment. Dragging his trunk behind him and peeking through the various doors as he went down the aisle, he didn't watch where he was heading and bumped into an older student coming hastily from the other way.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, but his apologies were drawn out by the vicious complaints from the other boy, "You dim, stumbling, nitwit! Watch where you going, will you? First years shouldn't be…"

His voice stopped as the older boy had straightened himself and got a good look at the boy in front of him. And he of him. "Well, that explains it, I guess," Lucius Malfoy sneered as he raised his eyebrows, "It's the miniature Weasley!"

The corners of his mouth turned up disparaging sneer. "The aspirant Muggle of the sty, aren't you? Nicking their trash, cherishing it like a treasure, hoping one day to be just like them. Though I can understand, I guess, if I lived in that shack of yours anything would seem glamorous in comparison."

Arthur's ears shone red in embarrassment and his eyes avoided to look Lucius' way, but a defiant frown was drawn on his face. "We are not poor. And I don't do that… not anymore…"

Malfoy laughed at him openly. "Then what made you change your way? Do even the Muggles not want you anymore?"

The red-head's frown deepened, but he kept his mouth shut.

"It was to be expected, of course. Eventually, who would keep up with a miserable, slimy, boot-licking, –"

"We're not boot-lickers!" Arthur exclaimed, his fists clenched at his sides, "We are not as rich as you, and we have had difficult times in the past, but we've always been a proud and self-respecting family, something you cannot say!" He finally snapped his head around to look Malfoy in the eye, but jumped back as he was met with a drawn wand.

Lucius narrowed his eyes in a displeased manner. "If you are referring to my father's fondness of your mother, my father is a fool for ever liking that bitch. She traded herself, her dignity and that of House Black for that pathetic excuse of a father of yours, and while your grandparents might have accepted him as son-in-law, that doesn't mean he's now a member of high society, or any society for that matter. Most respectable households still despise their marriage, and therefore, you."

Arthur stepped back from Malfoy's suddenly hateful words, but most of all, for the still dangerous wand between his eyes, and its venomous holder.

"You better know your place, Weasley," he whispered lowly, "Which means, in your case, you have to be very careful. Or soon you might find yourself crossing paths with the wrong type of person."

He nodded quickly, terrified Malfoy would hex him then and there. But Malfoy seemed content with frightening the little boy, smirked in his victory, and turned to leave the shaking first year alone in the corridor, his robes bellowing behind him in a theatrical manner.