The morning of September 1st arrived wrapped in a pale, drifting fog.
The Blake estate was silent, almost ceremonial, as Elias stood beneath the high-arched doorway, a single trunk floating beside him. He wore a crisp, tailored black robe, its silver trim understated but sharp—an echo of his lineage. Tufty, the house-elf, stood nearby with a bundled scarf in his hands, eyes wide and anxious.
"Tufty is ready, Master Elias, sir. Tufty will take you to the station," he stammered.
Elias gave a quiet nod.
A crack echoed faintly, and the estate vanished behind them.
🏙 King's Cross Station – 10:42 AM
They reappeared near a quiet side entrance of King's Cross, unnoticed by the Muggle crowd
Elias walked through the station with deliberate calm, his dark eyes alert. The rushing of travelers, the shriek of distant whistles, and the mechanical clatter of trains blended into background noise. He moved like someone used to watching from the sidelines.
He approached the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10.
Then he paused.
A group of red-headed children caught his eye. A plump woman fussed over them, checking pockets, straightening robes, lecturing with brisk warmth. Her voice cut through the din with the practiced authority of a mother of seven.
The Weasleys.
Elias didn't step forward.
He simply watched.
Arthur Weasley—Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Outspoken supporter of Muggle-born rights. Considered eccentric by the Ministry elite. Loyal. Honest. Too honest for politics.
The family? Poor, but deeply rooted in tradition. Ancient blood. Intertwined with the Prewetts, the Blacks, and the Longbottoms. A family often mocked by those who mistook humility for weakness.
Their robes were hand-me-downs. Their trunks well-worn. But their energy hummed with something more powerful than gold: connection.
Elias watched as the twins disappeared first, then Percy, followed by Ron and Ginny with Molly guiding them through. Their unity gnawed at a part of him he rarely let feel.
🏛 The Three Pillars of Magical Britain
Elias leaned against a column, hood slightly drawn, mind drifting as he observed the bustle.
Three dominant powers governed wizarding Britain.
1. The Ministry of Magic
A bureaucratic colossus. Law. Order. Policy. From Magical Law Enforcement to International Relations, it kept the wizarding world functioning—at a price.
His father, Cassian Blake, held dual positions few ever achieved. Officially, he worked in International Magical Affairs—a diplomat, strategist, and political manipulator. But his deeper ties were whispered behind closed doors: he was also affiliated with the Department of Mysteries. What he did there, no one knew. But everyone respected the silence.
Cassian was feared for a reason. He spoke little, but his influence extended beyond borders and comprehension. Even among Unspeakables, he was a ghost.
And Elias? He was the heir to that cold shadow—though the Ministry never saw the boy. Only the man who abandoned him.
2. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
More than an educational institution. It was the crucible where alliances were forged, legacies born, and young minds shaped for the future of magical Britain.
And at its helm—Albus Dumbledore.
A legend draped in eccentric robes and half-moon spectacles. Headmaster, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and (unofficially) the most powerful political force in the country.
To the Ministry, he was a threat—a relic of the old ways who refused to be controlled. They tolerated him because they feared open war. To the Noble Houses, he was unpredictable—champion of Muggle-borns, friend to half-giants, and protector of the common wizard. To the students, he was mysterious, brilliant, and untouchable.
Elias viewed him differently.
Dumbledore was not a man without vision. He simply played the longest game.
3. The Noble Houses
Families like the Malfoys, the Blacks, the Selwyns, and the Blakes. Their influence was older than any law. Land, gold, and ancient blood tied them together in silent pacts of tradition and quiet dominance.
They didn't always agree—but when the Houses moved together, even the Ministry listened.
Cassian Blake, though reclusive, was one of the few who straddled this world and the bureaucratic machine of the Ministry. His power made him respected. His detachment made him feared.
Elias, by contrast, was still unknown.
And he liked it that way.
🚂 The Hogwarts Express
Elias waited until most of the platform cleared, then walked through the barrier cleanly, emerging into the vibrant soundscape of Platform 9¾.
Steam coiled around the scarlet engine like the breath of a sleeping dragon. Children ran, owls hooted, trunks were dragged, and parents leaned in for final hugs.
He walked silently down the train, avoiding the crowd.
An empty compartment near the end awaited him. He stepped inside, closed the door, and sat beside the window.
Outside, Ron struggled with his trunk again. Fred and George helped—sort of—while Molly gave her youngest son an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
Elias watched them—not with envy, but a quiet, distant longing.
He adjusted the sleeve of his robe, turned his gaze to the clouds above, and waited for the train to move.
The story was shifting.
And he was ready to turn the page.