September 1st – King's Cross Station
The day had arrived. The day the Boy-Who-Lived would step into Hogwarts and take his first step toward whatever grand destiny the world had crafted for him. The entire magical community of Britain had been waiting for this moment with bated breath, whispering, speculating, and watching from the shadows, eager to witness the next chapter of their savior's life unfold.
At Platform 9, the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood proudly, steam billowing into the air as the excited chatter of students filled the station. Families bustled about, hugging their children, giving last-minute reminders, and sharing teary-eyed farewells. Among them, the Potters arrived, their presence alone enough to draw hushed murmurs and lingering glances.
James Potter strode forward with an air of quiet confidence, though his usually carefree expression was lined with something harder, more protective. Lily walked beside him, her emerald eyes darting cautiously as though searching for something unseen. Between them, Charlie Potter stood, the center of attention, clutching his trunk with slight apprehension but also quiet excitement. Their youngest, Rosaline, clung to her mother's hand, her brilliant young mind taking in everything with her sharp, observant emerald eyes.
Then came the Weasleys, arriving shortly after. Molly Weasley, the plump, matronly woman with her unmistakable fiery hair, immediately surged forward. Her arms wrapped around Lily in a tight embrace before she turned to Charlie, cupping his face and cooing over him as though he were one of her own.
Charlie resisted the urge to flinch. He didn't particularly enjoy Mrs. Weasley's overbearing nature, though he tried to remain polite. There was something overwhelming about the Weasley clan—their boisterous, tight-knit unity that suffocated him. A family entirely composed of identical red-haired individuals, so closely bonded it was almost unnatural. It was ironic, really—how fate had pitted the Weasleys against the Malfoys for generations, yet both families mirrored each other in their rigid traditions and sheer numbers. Fate was, indeed, cruelly amusing.
And then came Sirius Black.
He was unmistakable—dark-haired, sharp-featured, and as energetic as ever. His grin was wide, his voice loud as he called out to James and Lily, his presence commanding as he strode toward them. Beside him, Remus Lupin followed, a more subdued warmth in his features, but no less genuine.
"Prongs! Lils!" Sirius greeted enthusiastically, throwing an arm around James before giving Lily a quick kiss on the cheek. "Big day, huh?"
Remus smiled at his godson Charlie, his eyes kind, fatherly. "Excited?" he asked, his tone gentle.
Charlie nodded, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Yeah."
Henry Potter stood only a few feet away, silent as a phantom. And yet, not a single pair of eyes turned toward him.
He might as well have been invisible.
James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and even Charlie—none of them acknowledged him. Not a glance, not a flicker of recognition. Even as Sirius laughed and clapped Charlie on the shoulder, even as James ruffled Charlie's hair, even as Lily smoothed down her son's robes—Henry did not exist in their world.
It was as if some unseen force had erased him from their minds, as if he were nothing but a whisper in the wind, a ghost of a memory they could never grasp.
And yet, Henry did not react.
There was no sadness, no longing, no anger. No hope that someone might turn around and suddenly see him. His face was utterly blank—emotionless, unforgiving, a mask of cold detachment that could have been carved from ice. His emerald eyes, so similar to his mother's yet vastly different in depth, held no warmth. They burned, but with an ethereal fire, as if containing something ancient and unknowable, something far beyond what any of these people could comprehend.
It was fascinating, really—how easily he could be ignored, how effortlessly they all carried on, oblivious to the son, the godson, the blood that stood right beside them.
And still, Henry remained unmoved.
His posture was pristine—straight-backed, hands resting effortlessly at his sides, his every movement carrying an air of quiet, ruthless precision. There was no hesitation in the way he stood, no twitch of discomfort, no sign that he cared in the slightest about the scene unfolding before him. He was not desperate for attention, not yearning for recognition. He did not need them to see him. If anything, their blindness was nothing but an amusing spectacle.
James and Sirius bantered loudly, their laughter echoing through the station. Remus murmured some words of advice to Charlie, his voice gentle, reassuring. Molly continued fussing, already lamenting over the boy leaving home.
And Henry simply watched.
There was nothing in his gaze that spoke of resentment. No bitterness, no pain. Only the kind of detached interest one might have when observing an insect trapped in a glass jar, struggling to make sense of its confinement.
He exhaled softly, a whisper of breath against the crisp morning air. His mind was already elsewhere, calculating, unraveling the mysteries of the world that lay beyond this platform. Hogwarts was merely another stepping stone—a place filled with pawns, potential assets, and obstacles to be removed. but he know the responsibility laid on his shoulders.
But for now, he simply stood there, the phantom among his own blood, the silent shadow watching as the world moved on without him.
And he smiled. an emotionless smile which has no pain, no warmth nothing ablsolute nothing.
With no warning, Henry's hat fell from hair fell smoothly and he was pulled into a huge hug, the person holding him evidently not wanting to let him go. He blinked his eyes, flabbergasted. A mass of raven hair bloked his sight until the owner of said hair placed her hands on Henry's shoulders. Henry was confronted with engrossing light saphire eyes, very similar to Daphne's.
"Henry, it's splendid to see you again! How was your summer? Did you already buy your school supplies?"
"Lady Greengrass, it's a pleasure to see you again," Henry greeted politely, a small smile instinctively toying with his lips.
"Uh... Me? Y-yes, I've been doing fairly well. My summer has been very… interesting and productive. And, yes, I've already purchased all my things." He felt bad for lying but didn't want to worry the woman, let alone cause the beautiful smile etched across her face to be replaced by a frown.
"How many times must I tell you to address me by my name? There's really no need for such formalities."
"It would be rude for me to do that." Her frown intensified.
She opened her mouth to counter but was interrupted by the arrival of another figure.
"There you are, Elizabeth. You shouldn't rush off like that. It's quite hard to follow you, what with you moving so quickly through the crowd."
A tall, well-built, and intimidating figure interjected as he gently scolded his wife. His large hand held the tinier hand of an eight-year-old girl.
"Oh, hush, Cyrus. I simply went off to meet Henry," Elizabeth Greengrass objected to her husband. "There's nothing wrong with that. The poor boy was all alone in the crowd."
"Oh, dear mother. Your daughters are fine. There have been no broken bones or loss of consciousness, I'll have you know—thank you very much for your concern. Do continue spoiling this illegitimate son of yours, not by blood, of course. So go on and smother him some more."
The sarcastic tone was undeniably from Daphne, who had materialized behind her mother, folding her arms over her developing chest as she tapped her right foot. Tints of red surfaced on Elizabeth's cheeks, and she glared at her eldest daughter. Daphne shifted her attention to Henry.
"I blame you for stealing our mother's affection, Potter. You even caused her to forget her own daughters were with her today."
"And her husband." Cyrus Greengrass's smirk matched his daughter's. The comment served to further heat the lady's face.
"You two! I've missed Henry, that's all. It's been so long since I last saw him."
"Right. I believe you, Mother, I sincerely do. But if I'm not mistaken, didn't we invite him to dinner? No, wait, that's not right. Wasn't it, let's say, three days ago when we asked him to join us for dinner?"
Daphne's smirk widened. Her blushing mother turned an even brighter shade of red.
"Daphne Greengrass!" Elizabeth cried out in embarrassment.
"You called, precious mother?" she asked sweetly.
Cyrus chortled at the display before glancing at the smiling Henry. Such a young lad to have experienced such responsibilities. Cyrus respected the boy and cared for him greatly.
"How have you been holding up, lad? Well, I presume?" The man kindly offered his hand. Henry shook the man's rough hand.
"Yes, very well, Lord Greengrass. Thank you for your concern."
"You don't have to be so polite with us, lad. I've lost count of how many times I've asked you to call me by my given name." The man laughed merrily. "It's been years—you should have dropped the formalities by now."
"Yes, too stubborn for his own good," Elizabeth chided tenderly, a slight scowl marring her beautiful face. "Just call us by our given names, Henry. There's no harm in it. It's frustrating when you act so polite to us. You don't think of us as strangers, do you?"
"N-no! Not at all! I'm so grateful to your family for all you've done for me, Lady—uh... I mean, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth beamed in happiness. "That's better. Now try to get used to it, Henry, you understand?"
"Y-yes, of course. Although it will take some time..."
Although shuddering slightly, Henry's smile never wavered. His heart was pounding furiously. For the hundredth time, Henry marveled if this was how other children felt toward their parents. After all, he had come to think of the Greengrasses as parental figures. Elizabeth mothered him continuously every time they met, always tending to his needs and supplying him with plenty of gifts, no matter how much Henry protested. As for Cyrus, he always questioned Henry's well-being, talked to him man-to-man about life, gave him sound advice on Quidditch tactics, and constantly ensured Henry had everything he needed, no matter how many galleons it cost the man.
"There you go. Now that wasn't too hard, was it? Either that, or my dear wife was just too forceful for you, lad." Cyrus laughed out loud.
Smiling mischievously, Elizabeth whacked the back of her husband's head. "I was merely being insistent, not forceful, darling... There's a difference, wouldn't you agree?"
Cyrus nodded his head shakily. "Yes, sweetheart, of course, I agree... Absolutely… Most definitely, indeed…"
Henry chuckled noiselessly. So much for Cyrus's frightening appearance.
"It's best we be going now, the train will be departing anytime," Daphne briskly interrupted. "We need to find a compartment as well, and it won't be long before others occupy the best ones."
"Yes, you two really should be going now," Elizabeth said, her tone indicating disappointment. She kneeled and snatched Henry's hat, smiling as she dusted it off for him. It had been her first gift to Henry on his twelfth birthday, purchased at Madam Malkin's, since the hat had fascinated her—never mind the high price. Daphne had recently informed her that it was, in fact, the only hat he ever wore and that he refused to let anyone near it, much less touch it. Elizabeth's heart warmed at hearing this. She placed the hat on Henry's head and gently adjusted his hair underneath it.
"You take care of yourself, Henry, and please keep an eye on my daughter. She has a tendency to look for trouble wherever she goes."
"Mother! I do not!" Daphne argued hotly.
Elizabeth grinned teasingly before pulling her daughter into a tight hug. After breaking it, she kissed her cheeks and forehead. Daphne grumbled but quickly offered hugs to her father and younger sister before dragging her trunk to the train. Elizabeth then presented four pouches of galleons to Henry.
"Henry, this is for you. I want you to spend your money wisely, is that clear?"
Henry held up both hands and waved them rapidly, his eyes widening. "This is too much, Elizabeth. I still have some of the galleons you gave me."
"Now, what did I say about formality?" Elizabeth reprimanded flippantly. "And Henry, we give you money so you can buy your own necessities and save some. Consider them gifts from Cyrus and me. If you don't accept it, I'll be very, very hurt."
Reluctantly, Henry accepted the pouches, slipping them into his coat. He didn't have the heart to hurt the same woman who had looked after him for three years as if he were her own son. He promised her that he'd spend it wisely, and Elizabeth yanked him into an embrace before kissing his cheeks affectionately.
"Right, then. Off you go, or the train will be leaving without you."
Henry nodded, obeying her. "I just need to get my trunk. I left it with Nott."
"I'll accompany you, Henry," Lord Greengrass said. "There's a matter I'd like to discuss with you."
"Henry..."
Henry stiffened and the temperature around him sunk rapidly. He spun his head to meet Lily's confused face.
"Ah, Lady Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you again." Cyrus bowed his head slightly. "How is life treating your family?"
"A pleasure to see you as well, Lord Greengrass. Our family is doing well, thank you for asking. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Lily returned the gesture, bowing
"Yes, indeed it has. Unfortunately, I am unable to stay and catch up. My wife and youngest daughter are waiting for me and I have many official matters to attend to. I must take my leave, Lady Potter."
Lily forced a smile upon her face, nodding politely. Cyrus smiled warmly at Henry, squeezing Henry's shoulder before vanishing into the throng of people.
Henry's smile for Cyrus faded. He twirled around to his mother, who was perplexed as to why his smile had so quickly disappeared. His smile was so cheerful comfort, and she was just realizing how much it put her at ease. She discarded the people shouting her name and locked onto her son's gaze, distinguishing that her son had her emerald eyes. Both ended clashing stares when someone grabbed Lily's arm.
"Lily, Charlie is boarding the train! Come on, or you'll miss him! Sirius can only stall him for so long!" James said hastily, adjusting his daughter in his arms. Rosaline giggled at the crowd, so many people.
"Not now, James," Lily hissed, still gazing at her eldest son. Henry stood motionless, as though his feet were glued to the ground.
"James, where is Lily? Oh, for Merlin's sake, your son is about to board the train! You're going to miss him!" The agitated voice was none other than Molly Weasley, appearing at Lily's side. Lily overlooked her presence, far too preoccupied on interrogating Henry.
"Henry, tell me why you were talking with the Greengrass's?"
"The Greengrass's?" Molly and James mouthed simultaneously, one puzzled and the other horrified. Henry face tightened lightly, his lips twitching. His face had a sneer that will make Malfoy's entire line jealous. But he didn't reply.
Lily could sense that her son was hiding something from her, she just couldn't tell what. Before she could say anything more, she was promptly interrupted.
"The Greengrass! You spoke to them? They're working with You-Know-Who!" Molly was appalled. Henry restrained the immense urge to roll his eyes at the flabby woman.
"Oh, is that so, Mrs. Weasley? They declared themselves to be neutral in the last war. with Voldemort" He often forgot the name was forbidden. Molly flinched at that.
"Everyone knows that's a lie. They're a Dark family. They only said that to cover up the truth! I forbid you to talk to them anymore." Henry's eyes twitched, suddenly the temperature went down to chilling cold like a dementor attack, then henry spoke in a low and terrifying voice. "I would watch your tongue if I were you, Mrs. Weasley. It's a very serious offense to accuse someone without evidence. The Greengrass role in the Wizengamot, just as much as the Potter's, Black's, Bones and Selwyn's. Their votes are vital, and if they happen to be nearby the next time you open your big mouth, wizengamot have ship you off to Azkaban in no time at all, and mostly unlike some they are not considered as blood traitors did they"
"Well, that's true," James agreed. "They are rather important figures in the wizarding world." Molly scowled at James for consenting with his son and immediately reproached the father.
Now that they were distracted, Henry promptly dropped his facade irritation as he lugged his trunk to the train. He waved at Rosaline with his free hand and she innocently waved back. Geez, that filthy Weasley woman had no respect for privacy. She just intercepted in people's lives whenever she deemed it necessary. Who did she think she was an from socializing with the Greengrass's? They had taken far more care of Henry in the past three years than either his or her family. Henry was so engrossed in he failed to sense a pair of emerald eyes, so similar to his own, looking at his retreating figure. The owner to those eyes, was lost deep in thought, baffled as to why henry hadn't bid her farewell.