September 1st dawned crisp and clear, the bustle of King's Cross Station alive with Muggle commuters and the subtle shimmer of wizarding charms. On Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Sean stood with his parents, Margaret and Adrian, their faces warm with pride and a touch of worry. He hugged them tightly, the weight of another Hogwarts term settling in.
"Take care, Sean," Margaret said, brushing his hair back.
"I will, Mum." Sean turned to Aldridge, his ever-steady butler. "Aldridge, the house is your responsibility for now."
Aldridge bowed slightly, his expression resolute. "Rest assured, Master. I'll keep everything safe."
Sean nodded, trusting Aldridge's vigilance. By "safe," he meant protecting his parents—Margaret and Adrian were his anchor, and with Barnabas's threats lingering from their Leaky Cauldron clash, Sean wasn't taking chances. Gideon's influence kept Barnabas in check, but Sean knew ambition could override reason. Aldridge, with his sharp instincts and wand at the ready, was the perfect guardian.
Waving a final goodbye, Sean pushed his cart through the enchanted pillar, the familiar rush of magic tingling as he emerged onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The Hogwarts Express loomed ahead, its scarlet engine puffing enchanted steam that sparkled faintly, like a charm woven into the air.
"Sean, you're finally here!" a voice called.
Sean turned to see Blaise Zabini waving enthusiastically, his grin wide. Pushing his cart faster, Sean joined Blaise, and together they maneuvered his luggage to the train's luggage carriage. The staff, brisk and efficient, stowed it away with a flick of their wands. Chatting easily, they boarded the train, weaving through the crowded corridors to find an empty compartment.
"Sean, what'd you get up to this summer?" Blaise asked as they settled in. "I invited you to my place, but you ghosted me." His tone was teasingly disappointed, his eyes glinting with mock hurt.
Sean chuckled, easing into the seat. "Sorry, mate. I went straight to Beauxbatons' region after term ended—stayed a month. When I got back, I was catching up with my parents. Next summer, I'm definitely visiting, promise."
Blaise nodded, satisfied. "Deal. But… why's your cloak looking so bulky today?"
Sean grinned, patting his chest. "You forgot Kurkan loves hiding in my clothes."
"Kurkan?" Blaise raised an eyebrow. "He didn't make you look this bulky last year."
As if on cue, Kurkan—now noticeably larger than the previous term—slithered from Sean's collar. The snake's scales glinted under the compartment's light, and he nudged Blaise's outstretched hand with his head, a playful high-five. Sean laughed. Kurkan and Blaise had bonded last year when Blaise helped look after him, and their greeting was a ritual now, forged through countless hours of Sean and Blaise's Slytherin schemes.
"There he is," Sean said, stroking Kurkan's head.
Blaise smirked, settling back. "He's massive now. What're you feeding him?"
Before Sean could answer, a figure appeared at the compartment door. Blaise turned, his expression shifting to caution. "Jason? What're you doing here?"
Jason stood tall, his gaze fixed on Sean by the window. "I'm here for my young master."
Jason stepped inside, addressing Sean directly. "Master, I've arrived."
"Sit down," Sean said, gesturing to the seat across from him. He paused, then added, "At Hogwarts, just call me Sean. No 'Master' stuff."
Jason frowned, his loyalty evident. "Master, I don't care what others think."
Sean leaned forward, his tone firm but kind. "Here's the deal, Jason. Call me Sean at Hogwarts, or you don't stick around me."
Jason's lips tightened, a flicker of protest in his eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed, wrestling with the request. Finally, he nodded. "I understand."
Sean patted Jason's shoulder, keeping it brief. With a gentle tug, he coaxed Kurkan from his cloak, setting the snake on the compartment table to bask in the enchanted sunlight streaming through the window. Kurkan stretched lazily, his scales catching the light like a Hogwarts pet showing off. Sean glanced at Blaise, who was eyeing Jason curiously, and said, "From now on, Jason's with me. No bad vibes, alright? Treat him like a mate."
Blaise leaned back, smirking. "Whether we're mates depends on him. If he's decent, we'll get along fine."
Sean laughed, giving Blaise a playful kick. "Enough of that. Where's your girlfriend? I don't see her trailing you like last year."
At the mention of his girlfriend, Blaise's face lit up, his grin as bright as a Weasley twin's. "She's great," he said, all seriousness. "We've got plans—studying in the library once term starts. No scrambling before exams this year. We're going to work hard and improve together!"
Sean raised an eyebrow, surprised. "What's got into her? I thought she hated studying as much as you do."
Blaise coughed, looking sheepish. "Well, she's not my old girlfriend. I met this one over the summer. We wrote letters, talked about life… I reckon she's the real deal."
Sean blinked. "A new girlfriend? What happened to that older student you were with?"
"We split," Blaise said, his tone flat.
"Why this time?"
Blaise sighed, scratching his neck. "Over the summer, she wanted me to get my mum to give her family's business some favors. I don't meddle in family stuff, so I told her it's not our place—we're still students. She got upset, saying it was about my commitment, that I wouldn't even help with something small. Said if we married, she'd have no standing in my family. I tried calming her down, but she kept pushing. Then she said if I didn't agree, we were done. I figured that was my chance, so I said fine. After a bit of back-and-forth, we called it quits."
Sean grinned, shaking his head. Blaise's ex-girlfriend was clearly misguided, and Blaise—well, he was a bit dodgy in love. Their breakup was for the best; staying together would've just made them both miserable.
"Your new girlfriend," Sean said, leaning forward. "What year's she in? Sounds like a Ravenclaw from how you're talking."
Blaise chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "Spot on—she's Ravenclaw, third year this term. A year ahead of me."
"Another older student?" Sean teased.
"Older ones are the best!" Blaise shot back, unabashed.
As Sean and Blaise bantered, Jason sat quietly, his thoughts hidden but clearly sizing up Blaise. In his mind, he was already labeling Blaise as a bit too carefree with relationships. Just then, the compartment door slid open with a creak, and Anthony strode in. He hadn't been seen since last term, but his easy confidence was unchanged. He plopped down next to Blaise, nodding to him and Jason before fixing his gaze on Sean. "Sean, it's been ages. Have you thought about that idea I wrote to you about over the summer?"
Among Sean's schoolmates, besides Blaise's chatty letters, Andy's were the most frequent. While Blaise wrote to strengthen their Slytherin bond, Andy's letters had a purpose: convincing Sean to team up on a potions venture. After a year together, Andy had seen Sean's talent firsthand—his knack for brewing was undeniable. Even without that, Sean's article in The Golden Crucible last term had sealed his reputation. All summer, Andy's owls had arrived, each letter nudging Sean toward a deeper partnership.
"Andy, my potion skills aren't as brilliant as you think," Sean said, leaning back in the Hogwarts Express compartment, Kurkan still sunning himself on the table like a pampered Hogwarts mascot.
Andy raised an eyebrow, smirking. "A bloke whose paper got into The Golden Crucible says that? You expect me to buy it?"
Sean shrugged, his tone firm but friendly. "Give me some time. This term's packed. Once things settle, I'll help you out, I promise."
Andy's shoulders slumped, but he saw Sean's resolve and had to back off. He'd try again when Sean wasn't swamped. Truth was, Sean had already supplied Andy with plenty of potions—mostly mind-clearing brews that restored focus after late-night study sessions. They sold like hot cakes, but their value was modest. Andy had his sights on fancier potions, the kind that wealthy pure-bloods would pay a premium for, not these everyday concoctions.
With no potion deal to hash out, Andy shifted to casual chatter, trading quips with Sean, Blaise, and Jason. The compartment buzzed with easy laughter, the train's rhythmic clatter a familiar backdrop.
But their talk was cut short when the compartment door slid open. Samuel stood in the doorway, his expression calm but purposeful. He nodded to everyone, then locked eyes with Sean. "Sean, come with me. The others are waiting."
Sean knew Samuel meant the Slytherin Brotherhood Preparatory Group, likely gathering for a pre-Hogwarts strategy session. He stood, brushing off his robes. "Blaise, Jason, Andy, hang tight. I'll be back soon."
Jason shifted, concern flickering. "Young… Sean, don't you want me to come?"
Sean shook his head, smiling. "No need, Jason. It's the Hogwarts Express—safest place around."
Jason nodded reluctantly and settled back, while Sean followed Samuel out, heading toward the front of the train. The front carriages were reserved for Head Boys, Head Girls, and prefects—Hogwarts' elite who enjoyed perks like plush compartments. The Slytherin Brotherhood Preparatory Group had claimed a prefects' carriage for their meeting, a sign of their growing influence.
As Samuel led Sean through the corridor, curious eyes followed. Prefects from other Houses—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff—noticed Sean entering the Slytherin prefects' carriage. The Brotherhood's reserve group wasn't a secret, and Sean's presence sparked whispers. Sharp-eyed students were already piecing together his rising status in Slytherin's ranks.
Unlike the cramped, lively compartments at the back, this carriage was spacious, its enchanted cushions charmed for comfort, glowing faintly under the soft light of floating lanterns. Sean scanned the room. Last term's Head Girl, the seventh-year Head Boy, and a bespectacled seventh-grader had graduated, their absence shifting the group's dynamic. New faces filled the gaps, including Oliver Foley, who sat stone-faced, barely acknowledging Sean's arrival.
"Welcome, Sean. Please take a seat," Irina said, her voice warm but commanding, like a charmed portrait come to life. As sixth-years, she and Samuel had climbed the Brotherhood's hierarchy, especially with last year's top seventh-graders gone. The group's current leaders were last term's sixth-years—now seventh-years—and two seventh-year Slytherin prefects: Oliver Foley and Dovlia Shafik. Dovlia's surname alone, tied to the Sacred Twenty-Eight Shafik family, carried weight.
Sean glanced at Oliver and Dovlia, seated on opposite sides, the air between them crackling with tension. He'd heard last year that the two didn't get along. Rumors swirled of a private duel—sparked by some undisclosed slight—though no one knew the outcome. Whispers suggested Dovlia had the upper hand, as Oliver had grown quieter since, his usual confidence dimmed, while Dovlia carried herself with an unshakable edge.