The familiar tug of a Portkey yanked Scorpius forward, his stomach flipping uncomfortably as the swirling chaos of magic spun them through space. In a heartbeat, the world settled, and he landed with a slight stumble on the plush carpet of a neatly appointed hotel room.
Draco straightened his robes, casting a disapproving glance around. "Crown Plaza," he muttered, disdain edging his voice. "The Parkinsons and their theatrics. They could've at least chosen a location with... better taste."
Astoria smirked, brushing invisible lint from her traveling cloak. "Darling, do try not to insult our hosts before we've even used their service."
Scorpius glanced around. The room was modern, with neutral tones and a large window overlooking what appeared to be a busy Muggle Street. A crisp envelope hung on the door from the handle, sealed with the same logo from the Portkey—a snake coiling around a witch's hat, flanked by black and white foxes.
Astoria plucked the envelope free and opened it, scanning the letter within. "Instructions for first-time users," she said, reading aloud. "'Please check out at the front desk and state that you were in room 508.' Straightforward enough."
Draco scowled. "Typical of the Parkinsons to make us interact with Muggles unnecessarily."
Astoria ignored him, slipping the letter into her pocket. "Come along, boys. The lift is this way."
As they exited the room and headed toward the lift, Scorpius marveled at the attention to detail. Despite the Muggle appearance of the hotel, faint magical wards buzzed against his senses, blending seamlessly into the surroundings. A few Muggles shared the lift with them, casting curious glances at Draco's impeccably tailored wizard robes. A quick Notice-Me-Not charm from Astoria had them politely averting their gazes.
"This place is... interesting," Scorpius murmured as the lift descended.
"Interesting is one word for it," Draco muttered, crossing his arms. "The Parkinsons realized that wizards kept drawing unwanted attention by apparating into crowded areas or stumbling through Muggle train stations. So they purchased this hotel and designated specific rooms as magical entry points. For a fee, of course."
Scorpius raised an eyebrow. "They bought the entire hotel?"
"No," Astoria said with a small smile. "Just a few floors. Enough to turn a profit without raising suspicion. The rest is left to the Muggles."
Scorpius filed the information away. He wouldn't have guessed the Parkinsons to be this... resourceful. For all their bravado during Draco's school years, their cunning had matured. Something to remember for the future.
The lift dinged, and the trio stepped into the bustling lobby. Scorpius glanced around, noting the seamless mingling of Muggle and magical patrons. His father's mouth tightened in distaste, but he said nothing as they approached the front desk.
Astoria handled the check-out with practiced ease, charming the receptionist with her polite demeanor. The clerk glanced at the ledger briefly before handing over a key card and murmuring a thank you, none the wiser to their magical nature.
As they stepped outside, the warm hum of the Muggle City enveloped them. Scorpius took a deep breath, soaking in the novelty of it all. But before he could comment, his father turned sharply on his heel.
"This way. The station is just ahead."
The trio merged into the crowd, moving toward King's Cross Station. Scorpius couldn't help but glance back at the hotel, his thoughts buzzing with the possibilities of what other secrets it might hold. The Parkinsons might have been sidelined from society's spotlight after the war, but clearly, they'd learned how to adapt.
As they approached King's Cross Station, Scorpius noticed how the area had evolved from the descriptions he'd read in books and heard from older wizards. What had once been a relatively simple structure now sprawled into a sleek, modernized hub. Glass panels and steel beams reflected the overcast sky, while the constant flow of people created an energetic buzz.
Draco gestured subtly toward a group of individuals stationed near the station's main entrance. They looked unassuming, dressed in casual Muggle attire, but their alert eyes betrayed their purpose.
"Auror trainees," Draco said under his breath, steering Scorpius slightly to the side to avoid walking too close. "They're stationed here as Obliviators and Confounders. The Ministry increased its presence after an incident last year—some overenthusiastic first-years ran straight into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters without bothering to check for Muggles. Caused quite the scene."
Scorpius glanced at the trainees, intrigued. Most were leaning against walls or pretending to check their phones, but every so often, their eyes flicked to something in the crowd that no ordinary Muggle would notice.
"What do they do exactly?" Scorpius asked.
"Damage control," Draco replied, his tone clipped. "If a magical mishap occurs, they're there to erase memories, plant false ones, or subtly redirect attention. The Ministry's desperate to avoid another Statute of Secrecy breach, so they've doubled down on these measures."
Astoria gave Draco a look. "It's not all bad, dear. Most of the trainees are just trying to do their job."
Draco huffed but didn't argue.
As they neared the station's glass entrance, Scorpius noticed something peculiar. Where he'd expected a traditional entrance—arches and brickwork reminiscent of older photographs—there was now a wide automated glass door. Above it, a large digital screen displayed train schedules, flickering occasionally as if struggling to keep up with the pace of the station.
"What happened to the original entrance?" Scorpius asked.
"The station underwent renovations a few years ago," Astoria explained. "The Muggles wanted to modernize it, but they had to work around our needs. The Ministry arranged a few... adjustments to ensure we weren't left out."
Draco nodded toward a new addition near the center of the station. "The pillar entrance is gone, but it's been replaced by something more subtle."
Scorpius followed his father's gaze. Amid the bustling crowd stood a sleek metal sculpture shaped like two intersecting arcs. It was unobtrusive enough to blend into the station's design, but to Scorpius's trained eye, there was something distinctly magical about it.
"That's the new gateway to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," Draco said. "Instead of running through a pillar, you walk directly into the space between the arcs. The magic recognizes magical signatures and lets you through. Muggles only see a harmless piece of art."
Astoria added, "It's a lot safer this way. No more bumping into Muggles or causing unnecessary attention."
Scorpius raised an eyebrow. "And if someone without magic tries to walk through?"
"They're gently redirected," Astoria said with a small smile. "A Confundus-like charm makes them believe they simply misjudged their step."
"Efficient," Scorpius admitted, filing the information away. The setup was impressive, a perfect blend of magical ingenuity and Muggle camouflage. He couldn't help but wonder what other changes had been implemented while keeping the magical world hidden.
"Come along," Draco said, leading the way toward the sculpture. "Let's not keep the train waiting."
…
Despite the creeping signs of modernization, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters retained much of its old-world charm, as though clinging to a time when magic stood apart from the Muggle world. The departure times, rather than appearing on enchanted screens like those near the entrance, were scrawled in neat, looping handwriting on a large chalkboard hanging over the platform. The board was charmed to erase and update itself with a dramatic sweep of invisible chalk, accompanied by a faint clack-clack sound.
The stationmaster, an older wizard with a white beard and a slightly threadbare uniform, bustled about the platform with an air of authority. He carried a red and green flag, alternating between waving the colors to direct students and booming instructions for families to step away from the train. Occasionally, he adjusted his enchanted pocket watch, which seemed to chime in protest whenever students loitered too close to the edge of the platform.
Posters and advertisements were pinned to a nearby noticeboard, many of them hand-painted or weathered from years of use. A colorful flyer for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes boasted a special discount for students, while another featured a potion shop in Diagon Alley offering "Buy One Get One Free" on standard cauldrons. In one corner of the board, a parchment with moving illustrations encouraged older students to sign up for internships at the Ministry of Magic.
Amid the bustle, Scorpius maneuvered his cart carefully to avoid a group of first-years clustered around their parents. One boy was crying loudly as his mother tried to stuff a flailing ferret into a cage, while another girl struggled with an owl who kept flapping indignantly at her attempts to cover its cage.
As Scorpius maneuvered his cart closer to the train, he caught sight of a familiar pair waiting near one of the platform benches—Pansy Parkinson and her husband, Terrance Parkinson. Pansy, dressed in elegant dark green robes with silver accents, looked as sharp and composed as ever. Her dark hair was swept into a neat bun, and she held a gloved hand on her hip as she surveyed the crowd with a faintly bored expression. Beside her stood Terrance Parkinson, his demeanor polished yet approachable. He wore tailored robes of deep charcoal, his tie slightly loosened as though to make himself appear less imposing.
Draco's lips quirked slightly in recognition as he turned to Scorpius. "It seems we've found the Parkinsons," he murmured.
"Draco! Astoria!" Pansy greeted them with a slight smirk as they approached. "And young Scorpius, all grown up and off to Hogwarts. You've no idea how old that makes the rest of us feel."
Astoria chuckled politely. "Speak for yourself, Pansy. You've hardly changed a day."
"Draco," Terrance said smoothly as he extended his hand, the barest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. "It's been some time. The years have treated you well, I see."
Draco returned the handshake, his expression carefully neutral. "Terrance," he replied evenly. "The years have certainly been... eventful."
There was a subtle undercurrent to their exchange, one Scorpius couldn't fully place but instinctively recognized as tension. Scorpius noticed that Terrance's handshake lacked the haughtiness one might expect from the husband of Pansy Parkinson. Instead, there was an ease to his manner, though his keen eyes told an opposite story. They were constantly sizing everything up, not missing a detail.
Astoria, ever the diplomat, stepped in with a warm smile. "Pansy, it's so good to see you again. How is Bolivia settling into her second year?"
"Oh, she's loving it," Pansy replied, her tone light and proud. "Though she's already picked up a taste for bending the rules. Honestly, I blame her father." She shot Terrance a sidelong glance, which he met with a faintly amused raise of his eyebrow.
"Cleverness is hardly something to blame, dear," Terrance said smoothly. He turned his gaze to Scorpius, his tone shifting to something almost patronizing. "And you must be Scorpius. The son of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass. Quite the lineage to live up to."
Scorpius nodded politely, keeping his expression neutral. "I'll do my best, sir."
Terrance's smile widened slightly, though it still held that same edge. "I'm sure you will. Hogwarts will test you in ways you can't yet imagine."
Draco's eyes narrowed fractionally, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned to Horace, who stood silently by, radiating an air of composed superiority that mirrored his father's.
"Horace," Draco said, acknowledging him with a curt nod. "A fifth-year prefect. Congratulations on the badge."
Horace inclined his head in a gesture that was both polite and faintly arrogant. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. It's a responsibility I take seriously."
Astoria, ever perceptive, stepped closer to Pansy, drawing her into a quieter conversation about Hogwarts traditions. Meanwhile, Terrence's attention remained on Draco. His tone was conversational but with a subtle edge.
"The world has changed so much since our school days, hasn't it, Draco? Old families like ours adapt to new realities. Some of us have even... diversified."
Draco's jaw tightened imperceptibly, but his voice remained calm. "Adaptation has never been an issue for the Malfoys, Terrance. We've always known how to rise above."
Terrance's eyes gleamed with something that could have been amusement—or a challenge. "Indeed. Rising above is what we do best, isn't it?"
"Horace, this is Scorpius Malfoy," Pansy said. "I'm sure you'll help him settle in."
Horace gave a polite nod. "Of course. The first few weeks can be overwhelming, but you'll find your footing quickly."
Before Scorpius could reply, a smaller figure bounded over—a lively girl with wavy black hair and a mischievous grin. "Mum, Dad, I'm getting on the train now!"
"Bolivia, don't forget your trunk!" Terrance called after her, though his tone held more amusement than scolding.
Bolivia Parkinson, a second-year student, was a whirlwind of energy compared to her composed older brother. She glanced at Scorpius with curious green eyes. "You're Scorpius, right? How come you were never present at any of the Ministry Balls?"
"Bolivia," chided Terrance," It is rude to ask that of others."
"It's fine, Mr.Parkinson," said Scorpio, missing a small change in expression that lasted a fraction of a second," I was ill when I was younger. I am better now."
Bolivia shrugged at the answer, "My brother's already told me about you. Come find me on the train if you're bored; the older kids can be so dull sometimes."
As Scorpius checked that his trunk was secured, Clyde apparated beside him with a soft pop. "Young Master, Brynden," he announced, presenting a sleek black cage with a squawking crow inside.
Scorpius sighed as he set the cage on the cart. "All right, Brynden, you'll be out of this soon enough. Just wait until we're on the train, and I'll let you stretch your wings."
The crow squawked in response, tilting its head as though trying to appear more pitiable.
"You're fine," Scorpius assured him, tapping the top of the cage lightly. "A few more minutes won't hurt you."
Satisfied, Clyde gave a short bow. "Anything else, young master?"
"No, Clyde. Thank you. You can return home now."
Clyde nodded, his ears twitching slightly, and disappeared with another soft pop.
Scorpio stood in the center of the station and covered his ears. The cacophony of noises quietened down, and he was able to observe everyone. To his left side were the Malfoy and the Parkinson family. Terrance and Draco had a respectful distance while Astoria and Pansy were close to each other. Horace was stepping onboard the train, followed by Bolivia. Steam erupted from the engine of the train accompanied by a loud noise. The students began to trickle into the train.
Bolivia opened the windows to the carriage she was sitting in and began waving at her parents. He could see a couple of girls wearing the Slytherin colors in their carriage.
Suddenly, a boy ran into him, breaking his concentration.