Upon arriving at King's Cross Station, Blake and Harry looked around confused. They couldn't see any special wizard area, or train.
Seeing their confused faces, Hagrid laughed.
"We need to go to Platform 9 and 3/4!"
The confusion on the boys' faces only grew, as did Hagrid's laughter, as he motioned for them to follow. The trio moved through the hustle and bustle of the busy station and eventually made their way next to a brick wall, between Platforms 9 and 10.
"Here we are!"
For a moment, the boys looked at him blankly, but they were quickly distracted by something else – 2 ginger haired boys, older than them and almost – no, they were identical – ran headfirst into the wall! But before Harry or Blake could shout out, the twins somehow disappeared – literally, disappeared, as if they had phased into it.
"Yer see?" Hagrid said in amusement.
"Follow me!" and without waiting for their acknowledgement, the half-giant ran into the bricks, disappearing just like others, and he was followed by another ginger boy – about their age.
Blake and Harry looked at each other, still in doubt.
"I'll do it if you do it," Blake offered.
"Deal," Harry said with a grin.
"3, 2, 1, GO!"
Both boys furiously charged at the wall, closing their eyes and braced for impact – but it never came, and when they opened their eyes, they were still in King's Cross Station – or what looked like it, at least. But strangely, there were no other platforms, other than a single one – 'Platform 9¾'.
While Harry marvelled at the magic of the wall, Blake looked around, taking in the world around him. It was almost the same atmosphere as Diagon Alley – busy and magical, except without the shops and stores. Wizards. I wonder how many of them hate my existence, he mused, thinking of Hagrid's warning. They'll probably already know magic too. I need to be careful to not go near any Slytherins – at least, not for the time being. Blake was a cautious child, yes, but that didn't mean he would let himself be disrespected.
While Harry and Blake boarded the train, Hagrid left to go to another carriage, so that the boys could talk more and make more friends. Much to Blake's expectations, not many people came to talk to them, exchanging polite greetings at most. That was, until the ginger haired boy from earlier showed up.
"Uh, hello. Is anyone sitting here?" he said loudly, pointing to an empty seat next to Blake.
Blake and Harry both smiled at him and told him to sit down, and they introduced themselves to each other.
"I'm Ron Weasley. What's your names?"
"I'm Harry Potter."
"And I-"
"Woah! You're Harry Potter? No way! Prove it!" Ron interrupted Blake, and gestured to something on Harry's forehead. Harry shot Blake an apologetic look, but the latter wasn't really bothered. Ron probably didn't mean it out of any malice – Hagrid did say that Harry was a celebrity.
Harry pushed his long hair to the side, revealing a scar on his forehead, shaped almost like a lightning bolt. Probably something that proves he's Harry Potter - a scar from the killing curse, Blake concluded. I should probably look into that killing curse - someone might try use it on me.
With that, Ron seemed to believe Harry and proceeded to gush over him for about half a minute, before realising he sounded a bit like a fan.
"What's your name again?" he asked Blake bluntly, but again without malice. One of those loud types, isn't he?
"I'm Blake Renshaw," Blake replied, not friendly, but not rude either. Ron seemed loud, and loud people were often getting themselves into unnecessary trouble. I don't need that. "Nice to meet you, Ron."
"That's a cool name," Ron complimented him, and continued before Blake could thank him. "So, I take it you're a muggleborn?"
"Yep."
"My dad said to make sure to help out any muggleborns that seemed confused, but you don't seem confused. Either way though, if you need any help with anything, let me know – I'm Ron Weasley, and I'll be in Gryffindor," he said, with pride.
"You already know your house?" Harry asked.
"Nah, but all my brothers are in Gryffindor – I'll definitely be there too!" Ron spoke boastfully. Houses probably matter, don't they? That's new.
"I just hope I'm not in Slytherin," said Harry grimly.
"Same," affirmed Blake.
"Yeah," Ron laughed, "if a muggleborn was in Slytherin, that would be really bad news!"
Looking at Harry and Blake's less than pleased expressions, Ron's laughing face turned to one of panic and slight shame.
"Sorry, I didn't mean – well, don't worry, Blake – you have nothing to worry about. I'm pretty sure no muggleborn has ever been sorted into Slytherin, and I doubt they ever will."
Seeing the faces of his companions return back to normal, Ron breathed a sigh of relief, and quickly tried to change the subject.
"So, what subjects are you all most excited for?"
As the conversation ensured, Blake smiled inwardly. To be honest, Ron didn't seem to have a lot of common sense, or much of a filter – but he certainly wasn't a bad person. That being said, I'm not sure I want to be friends with someone like that…
Suddenly, as Ron was explaining a story he had heard from his brothers, the doors opened. In came a pale, blonde haired boy, followed by two other taller, bigger ones. To Blake, it was obvious that the smaller one was the 'leader' of the trio – especially by the haughty, arrogant way he carried himself, and the expensive looking robes. Definitely a pureblood, Blake thought, as the boy stopped in front of their table. This probably isn't going to be good.
The boy's beady eyes instantly locked in on Ron, and he sneered.
"Red hair and a hand me down robe? You must be a Weasley. My father says you all live in a rabbit burrow because you can't afford a house."
Blake was inwardly shocked at the rudeness – he would have thought this posh looking child, no matter how arrogant he seemed, wouldn't be so eager to make enemies on his first day.
Ron's already red face reddened even further, but he wasted no time retorting.
"Snakey little eyes and ugly blonde hair? You must be a Malfoy. Is your Death Eater daddy still paying the Ministry for his freedom?"
Malfoy's dad is a Death Eater? And he's still free? How many of them are still out there?
"Shut up, you blood traitor. Besides," he continued, now looking directly at the scar on Harry's forehead.
"I'm not here for scum like you."
As Ron retorted with yet another insult, Malfoy ignored him and extended his hand out towards Harry, infuriating Ron even further.
"I'm Draco Malfoy, Potter. I believe we got off to the wrong start at Diagon Alley – you should come and sit with us. Don't associate yourself with low-lives like the Weasleys. You can even bring your friend," the blonde said, gesturing at Blake.
"Wait – what's your surname?" he asked Blake, before Harry could respond.
"Renshaw," Blake replied, his voice betraying no emotion and his eyes meeting Malfoy's snakey ones.
Malfoy's face twisted into another sneer.
"I haven't heard of that name before."
"You wouldn't have." Blake said coolly.
Malfoy looked at Blake with disgust, before turning back to Harry.
"Trust me, Potter. Don't associate yourself with blood traitors and filthy mudbloods. Come and sit with us."
Mudblood? Is that meant to be an insult? Blake's heart rate began increasing and his legs started to shake in anger, but he controlled himself before anyone noticed.
Harry, who had been silently seething, finally spoke.
"Don't call them that, Malfoy. And the only type of people I don't want to associate with are people like you," he said, with a sneer matching Malfoy's.
Now, it was the blonde's turn to turn red.
"Careful, Potter. If you carry on talking to me like that and associating with mudbloods and the likes of the Weasleys you could end up just like your parents. My father always did tell me they bit off more than they could-"
At his words, Ron and Harry stood up suddenly, facing the other three boys.
"Oh, I'm so scared," Malfoy mocked them. "You want to fight, do you?"
"Come on, then!" Ron said, hot-headedly, and Harry, who had slightly more sense, still nodded in agreement. Malfoy's a snob and a racist, but I'm not getting involved until my house is sorted, thought Blake. Once I've confirmed I'm not in Slytherin, he's finished.
Before anything could kick off, however, the doors opened, and in came a trolley, full of chocolates, sweets, drinks, cards, and other items, wheeled in by a kind looking lady. Malfoy sneered again.
"Come on, Crabbe and Goyle. I don't need to waste time with these trollops."
As he turned back to where he came from, he spoke one last time.
"If I were you, I'd watch out, Potter. My father will be hearing about this."
After Malfoy left, Ron and Harry finally sat down, still red.
"I hate him!" said Ron, venomously.
"Same," echoed Harry, scowling.
Suddenly, Ron whirled on Blake, who met his gaze.
"How could you let him say that about you?"
"Say what?"
"That word?"
"You mean, mudblood?"
Ron's face flushed again.
"Yeah, that. Why didn't you say anything?"
Because I'm not as reckless as you, Ron. But I'll play along.
"Is it a bad word?"
"Of course it is! It's the worst insult for muggleborns ever!"
"I didn't know that!" Blake said, mimicking Ron's fury at Malfoy. Seemingly satisfied that Blake was now angry at Malfoy as well, Ron continued his rant at Malfoy, with Harry occasionally chiming in in agreement.
Ron, you're nice, but I don't like the way you handle things. And by the looks of it, you're going to bring Harry down with you. But don't worry, Blake thought.
Just because he hadn't said or done anything to Malfoy didn't mean he would let him get away with insulting him.
I'll make Malfoy regret that.
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