The Dark Slytherin (Trilogy)

Ch 17- The Hogwarts Express

Hadrian Potter stood on Platform 9¾, staring at the scarlet train before him. The platform buzzed with the chatter of families, the squeals of excited children, and the calls of vendors selling sweets and newspapers. Parents hugged their children, imparting last-minute advice, while younger siblings watched enviously, longing for the day when they too could board the Hogwarts Express.

Hadrian, however, was alone. Sirius could not make it, and Tonks had taken ill, so she would reach Hogwarts later.

He observed the scene with a mix of curiosity and a dull ache in his chest. He watched as a small girl with pigtails clung to her mother's robes, refusing to let go. Another boy, younger than him, was lifted into a warm embrace by his father, who ruffled his hair before sending him off with a smile. The sight made Hadrian's stomach twist, a painful reminder of what he never had.

He swallowed hard and shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. He didn't have time to dwell on the past. With a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and boarded the train, his heart pounding in his chest. The corridor was narrow and filled with students looking for a compartment. Hadrian slipped through the crowd with ease, his body automatically adopting the stealthy movements he had learned during his years with the gang.

He found an empty compartment near the back and quickly stowed his trunk, sinking into the seat by the window. The noise of the platform was muted here, the glass providing a barrier between him and the outside world. He watched as the last few students boarded, the steam from the train billowing around them.

Suddenly, there was a loud commotion outside. Hadrian's head snapped towards the source, his senses on high alert. Through the window, he saw a large group of people gathered around a boy who was laughing loudly, his voice carrying over the crowd.Julian Potter.

Hadrian's breath hitched in his throat as he recognized his younger brother. Julian was surrounded by a group of admirers, his messy hair and round glasses giving him an innocent, boyish charm. But there was something else, something that made Hadrian's stomach churn with unease. Julian's posture was arrogant, his head held high as if he owned the world. He basked in the attention, his laughter loud and unrestrained.

The difference between them couldn't have been more stark. Where Julian was light and carefree, Hadrian was dark and brooding. Where Julian was the Boy Who Lived, celebrated and adored, Hadrian was the forgotten son, left to fend for himself in a world that had shown him no kindness.

Wait a minute, why was Julian over here, he was nine? Hadrian was completely baffled, until he got to know from someone in the crowd that it was a yearly tradition. Young 'Jules', as they referred to him came to the station every year to wave goodbye to the First Years and sold his signed photographs to few lucky students at very expensive rates, a hundred and fifty galleons for one picture. Hadrian was amazed at how childish people were. They bought useless pictures worth a hundred and fifty galleons and then complained about their poverty. He was shocked at the fact that a nine year old even had a signature. He came back to his senses. 

Hadrian's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms. He watched as their parents, James and Lily Potter, fussed over Julian, their faces lit with pride and joy. Her eyes sparkling with love, while James clapped his son on the back, laughing at something Julian said.