In the cool, orderly section of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the Parkinson family resembled a set of meticulously carved white jade statues, carefully arranged in place. They had arrived early to claim a "prominent" position near an archway.
From there, they had a clear view of the platform entrance, allowing them to greet the Malfoys immediately, while also keeping the surrounding crowds in sight.
Mr Parkinson wore impeccably pressed dark robes and stood as straight as a pine, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze flicking toward the platform entrance from time to time.
Mrs Parkinson held her chin slightly raised, her neck slender and elegant, her face bearing its customary air of privilege.
Her eyes swept slowly over the passing crowds like precision instruments of scrutiny. Whenever her gaze fell on wizards who did not come from pure-blood families or wore plain clothes, it inevitably carried a trace of veiled contempt.
Pansy had dressed with particular care that day. A new dark green cloak wrapped her slender figure, its edges embroidered with fine silver thread that gleamed faintly through the swirling steam. Its colors echoed those of the Malfoy family, and it had clearly been carefully chosen.
Her hair had been combed without a strand out of place and gathered into a small bun secured with a silver hairpin, exposing her smooth forehead and making her pretty little face look all the more delicate.
At that moment, however, her lively little eyes were sweeping anxiously through the crowd like searchlights, her gaze fixed firmly on the direction of the platform entrance.
"They're here," Mr Parkinson suddenly said in a low voice, just as Pansy was growing increasingly anxious.
The moment he spoke, the crowd at the platform entrance seemed to be cleaved apart by an invisible force, parting of its own accord to leave a wide, unobstructed path.
Lucius Malfoy wore jet-black robes with a velvet collar, the fabric sumptuous and substantial. The hem stirred lightly as he walked, and he carried an imposing presence.
He walked at the front, the silver snake's-head cane in his hand tapping lightly against the ground. His face wore its usual cold, faintly irritated expression, as though the bustle around him had nothing to do with him.
Narcissa followed closely, walking at Lucius's side.
Draco followed half a step behind his parents. When his gaze passed over the scarlet Hogwarts Express in the middle of the platform and the excited young wizards surrounding it, he still could not help feeling a flicker of anticipation.
At the Malfoys' arrival, the Parkinsons immediately went to greet them with brisk but dignified strides, their hurried footsteps remaining orderly.
"Lucius, Narcissa." Mr Parkinson was the first to extend his hand, his tone precisely balanced between the familiarity of an old friend and reverence for the Malfoy family.
"Avery." Lucius inclined his head slightly and briefly shook his hand. Their fingers touched for no more than an instant before he withdrew his hand. "It seems neither of us is late. A rare bit of understanding between us."
"Naturally. Today is the important day when the children leave for Hogwarts. Their futures are at stake, so of course we wouldn't dare be careless," Mrs Parkinson immediately interjected.
A polished smile appeared on her face, and as her gaze settled on Draco, she praised him. "Draco looks so smart today, and the cut of those robes is simply impeccable. They truly embody the Malfoy family's style. One can tell at a glance that they were carefully tailored."
Narcissa returned an equally polished, appropriate smile, its warmth measured to perfection. "Pansy looks radiant as well. That dark green cloak suits her complexion beautifully-so refined and distinguished. You truly know how to raise a child, Mrs Parkinson, to have brought Pansy up to be so poised and proper."
The adults stood to one side, exchanging these cold, precisely measured pleasantries.
Meanwhile, Pansy had already slipped swiftly to Draco's side like an agile fledgling, taking advantage of a pause in the adults' conversation.
"Draco!" Pansy's voice was slightly shriller than usual, carrying barely restrained excitement and affection as she looked at him with shining eyes.
"Where's your trunk? How come I haven't seen it? Oh, I know, you must have used a Shrinking Charm, right? The Malfoy family's magic is so convenient. Much less trouble than this cumbersome trunk of mine!"
As she spoke, she unconsciously swung the trunk in her hand. Then, as though remembering something, she leaned closer to Draco and lowered her voice to share the "intelligence" she had just gathered. "I saw those redheaded Weasleys over there on the platform just now. The whole family was making such a racket. The Weasley boy was holding this huge, battered trunk with dust all over it. It looked so cheap. And that hideous owl of theirs, with its feathers all over the place-they looked like refugees! Not a shred of the dignity a wizarding family ought to have!"
She spoke with righteous indignation, her eyes full of disdain, watching Draco's face closely as she talked, trying to find agreement and approval in his expression.
Draco merely gave an offhand acknowledgment. His mind was not on her words, and his eyes continued searching the crowd.
He was still looking for Hermione. Perhaps she really had not arrived yet, or perhaps she had been swallowed up by the noisy crowd.
Pansy soon noticed something was different about Draco. Seeing that he was distracted and paying her no attention, a barely perceptible trace of disappointment flashed in her eyes.
But she knew full well that this was a special occasion, an important gathering of pure-blood families, and she could not possibly behave as she pleased.
Pansy could only force down her feelings and stand obediently beside Draco without another word, merely stealing an occasional glance at him from the corner of her eye.
Just then, the platform suddenly grew a little louder, and a set of rather heavy footsteps approached.
Amid a slight stirring in the crowd, Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle led their sons somewhat clumsily through the throng toward Lucius and the others.
Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle were both burly men, broad-backed and thick-waisted, their ruddy faces bearing a somewhat simple, rough-hewn look. Their every movement conveyed brute strength.
They looked better suited to solving problems with their fists than navigating verbal exchanges and social niceties, forming a stark contrast to the elegant, proper pure-blood aristocrats around them.
Behind them, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle resembled two moving hills, their figures stocky and heavy beneath slightly oversized robes.
Each boy followed his own father.
Their arrival instantly lowered the surrounding "tone" somewhat, adding a touch of everyday earthiness to the previously cool, elegant atmosphere.
Mr. Crabbe cleared his throat, his loud, gravelly voice breaking the quiet. "Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy."
As he spoke, he bent forward slightly in a bow that was not quite correct but sufficiently respectful.
Mr. Goyle looked somewhat ill at ease. He merely nodded vigorously at Lucius and Narcissa, his lips moving without producing any words.
Lucius slowly turned his gaze toward them, like a supreme monarch glancing at frontier commanders who had come to report for duty. His eyes were calm and untroubled, without a trace of unnecessary emotion.
He gave only the slightest inclination of his head in acknowledgment of their greeting.
The two hulking boys immediately straightened, lowering their heads respectfully, not daring to meet Lucius's eyes.
Lucius looked over the two boys and spoke as though issuing an order. "Once you're at Hogwarts, take good care of Draco. Follow his instructions in everything. Don't cause trouble, and don't let him suffer the slightest indignity."
Vincent and Gregory immediately mumbled their assent, then took their places of their own accord behind and to either side of Draco and Pansy.
At that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson stepped back half a pace in perfect unison, keeping roughly a step between themselves and the Crabbe and Goyle families. That subtle movement clearly marked the degrees of closeness between the families.
The Parkinson family and the Malfoy family were equal allies, while the Crabbe and Goyle families were dependents attached to the Malfoy family.
Narcissa walked slowly up to Draco and adjusted his collar one last time, though it needed no adjusting at all. Her hand lingered briefly on his shoulder, all her concern and hopes hidden within that fleeting touch.
She bent slightly, bringing her lips close to Draco's ear, and quietly reminded him in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Once you're at school, remember to write home regularly. Contact Severus promptly if anything happens. Don't try to be brave."
After speaking, Narcissa slowly straightened and returned to Lucius's side, her face once again assuming its cool, noble expression.
Lucius's gaze slowly swept over the fledgling "Slytherin squad" before him, with Draco at its center.
Pansy stood prettily beside him, her expression full of affection and dependence; Crabbe and Goyle stood on either side, burly figures guarding him loyally. Everyone occupied precisely the right position.
The corners of his mouth seemed to lift in an almost imperceptible curve, and a glimmer of satisfaction flashed in his eyes.
Good. Everything was under his control, every step steady and appropriate. This was the arrangement the Malfoy family ought to have. This was the presence the heir he had so painstakingly cultivated ought to command.
"Go on." Lucius withdrew his gaze and looked at Draco.
Draco drew a deep breath and bowed slightly to his parents in a proper farewell.
Then, with Pansy following his every step and Crabbe and Goyle steadily flanking him, he turned and walked toward the scarlet Hogwarts Express.
Sunlight streamed through the platform's glass dome, falling on the scarlet carriages and giving them a warm sheen. Amid the swirling steam, the train resembled a sleeping behemoth, quietly awaiting their arrival.
On the platform, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson remained where they were and exchanged a few more brief remarks.
Their topics amounted to nothing more than inconsequential recent rumors from the Ministry of Magic or trivial anecdotes from pure-blood circles.
A moment later, they nodded elegantly to one another in farewell.
Crabbe's and Goyle's fathers had already tactfully withdrawn to the edge of the crowd, watching Draco and the others from a distance with a measure of gratification on their faces.
Only after Draco and the others boarded the train did they slowly turn away, melting into the noisy crowd and quietly taking their leave.