Chapter 248 — King's Cross Station
The party ended with the jubilant cheers of Gryffindor and the heavy, resentful silence of Slytherin.
By the next day, the emotional turmoil of the night before had been left behind. The young witches and wizards were eager now—excited for the holiday that awaited them.
They might have been even happier if the professors hadn't handed out notices reminding them they were not permitted to use magic outside school.
Hagrid escorted them to the station in Hogsmeade, where they boarded the Hogwarts Express bound for London. The train chugged along, and laughter echoed through the compartments. Outside the windows, the vast wildlands gradually gave way to neat countryside and quiet villages—passing from magical isolation into the heart of the Muggle world.
The students snacked on Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, peeled off their robes, and changed into shirts, jackets, and blouses. Slowly, they transitioned back to ordinary life. Soon, they arrived at King's Cross Station, headed for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Because the wizarding world remained hidden from Muggles, the transition off the platform was carefully controlled. The students couldn't all emerge at once—it would be far too suspicious.
A withered, skinny station guard stood near the exit wall, allowing only two or three students through at a time, ensuring the crowd trickled out gradually and discreetly.
"Do you want to come over to my place this summer?" Ron asked Harry, Neville, and Hermione eagerly. "I'll send you an owl!"
Harry smiled. "Thanks, Ron. I'll be with Sirius for part of the summer, but I'm sure he'd be happy to let me visit."
Phineas and Draco stood a little behind them, quietly listening.
Draco frowned. He was still sulking—Phineas had dragged him away from Crabbe and Goyle and insisted he join Harry and the others instead.
The twins appeared on either side of Phineas, draping their arms over his shoulders.
"Phineas, want to come visit us during the holidays?"
"That's right—if you're not there, Mum's just going to be nagging us the whole time…"
"George! Fred!"
Their teasing was interrupted by an angry voice.
Phineas turned and spotted Mrs. Weasley storming over, face flushed with fury.
She reached the twins in seconds, grabbed an ear in each hand, and hissed furiously, "Do you have any idea how worried your father, Ginny, and I were? Ginny was terrified!"
Everyone knew she was referring to the twins' daring mission to rescue Harry from the underground classroom. It had been brave—and foolish. While others saw heroism, Molly saw the risk. To a mother, even noble acts meant little if her children were endangered.
The twins didn't argue. They looked chastened but remained silent. They were clever enough to understand—they had truly scared her. They also knew she'd likely follow up with praise once the scolding was over. That was just Mum.
Phineas gave a polite nod to Molly, then excused himself with Harry. He had something more important to do—speak with Harry's Muggle relatives.
"Goodbye, Potter!"
"Bye, Harry!"
Voices called from all directions. Harry had never known such friendships before coming to Hogwarts. The thought of spending the holidays with Sirius—and maybe Phineas—filled him with warmth and excitement.
"I said, are you ready?"
A loud, gruff voice echoed across the platform.
Phineas turned and spotted a heavyset man with a red, blotchy face and an enormous beard glaring at Harry. Beside him stood a thin woman with a pinched expression, and a very round boy trying to hide behind her skirt.
"That them?" Phineas asked calmly.
Harry nodded.
Mrs. Weasley walked over and asked kindly, "You must be Harry's family?"
The man—Uncle Vernon—grunted, "You could say that," then turned to Harry. "Come on, boy. We don't have all day."
"Wait a moment."
Vernon froze, clearly startled to be addressed by a wizard. He turned back cautiously.
"Something wrong?" he grumbled.
"Nothing urgent," Phineas replied coolly. "I just wanted to let you know—Harry will be spending part of the summer at my house."
"That's not happening," Vernon snapped at once.
Phineas shrugged. "I almost forgot—my brother is Harry's godfather."
Vernon blinked and turned to Harry in confusion. "Godfather? You haven't got a godfather!"
"I do," Harry said brightly. "He was my parents' best friend. He was... in prison for a while. Just got out, actually."
Vernon's face drained of color.
Phineas added smoothly, "He was in Azkaban. That's wizard prison, by the way. And yes—he's quite fond of Harry."
"We'll be picking him up in a week," Phineas went on. "Oh, and for the record—we're not in the habit of killing Muggles. That's what we call non-magical folks like you."
Phineas gave Harry a wink, turned on his heel, and walked off with Draco, completely ignoring the stunned Dursleys.
Draco was beaming, though he tried to hide it. Whether it was seeing Harry's awful relatives or watching Phineas thoroughly unnerve them, something about the moment pleased him greatly.
Outside the station, a roar of an engine caught Phineas's attention. Sirius Black was leaning on a brand-new motorcycle.
He spotted Phineas and threw his arms wide. "Phineas! Long time no see. How was school?"
Phineas gave a nonchalant shrug as they embraced.
"I'm doing well," he said. "You know me—Slytherin's little games don't apply when you're a Black."
Sirius laughed heartily. He looked nothing like the haunted man who'd escaped Azkaban. His frame had filled out, his clothes were sharp, and his dark hair had been trimmed stylishly. He looked like a rock star out of a Muggle magazine—confident and alive.
The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbows, revealing lean, muscled arms. A metal pendant peeked from under his open collar—Phineas couldn't quite make out the symbol.
Phineas gestured to Draco, who still seemed unsure of himself. "This is Draco Malfoy—our cousin Narcissa's son."
Sirius didn't look thrilled. He'd always disliked the Malfoys. But for Phineas's sake—and to make amends for lost time—he forced a smile and nodded stiffly at Draco.
Phineas continued smoothly, "Lucius has made mistakes, no doubt. The Malfoy attitude isn't exactly charming, either. But Draco is family. And Narcissa is the only close blood relative we have left. Rebuilding ties is important."
Then, in a much quieter voice, he added, "Besides, the Malfoys aren't invincible. We need stronger representation in the Elder Council. Lucius might be eager to have his family return as a sworn ally of the Council. I plan to visit them tomorrow."
A flash of gold interrupted them. Phineas turned to see a couple approaching—dressed in luxurious robes, but exuding a discomforting air of arrogance.
Phineas recognized them at once. "Mr. Malfoy. Cousin Narcissa."
He smiled cordially. "I was just telling Sirius I'd be visiting you tomorrow."
Lucius blinked in surprise and glanced at Sirius, who maintained his strained smile.
Lucius had long since decided to restore his family's ties to the Blacks—especially after witnessing Phineas's handling of the vampire incident. Eager to show goodwill, he stepped forward with a gracious tone.
"Indeed? Then I must prepare properly. It's not every day we host a cousin for the first time Phineas. "
He used "Phineas" rather than "Mr. Black"—a subtle mark of closeness and respect, signaling both warmth and acknowledgement of their familial and social status.
Phineas waved off the formality. "No need for trouble. It's a casual visit—just a family call, not a formal one."
Of course, everyone in the wizarding world would see it differently.
Phineas's visit would be interpreted as a formal diplomatic gesture from House Black to House Malfoy. After his defense of the Malfoys during the Hogwarts crisis, it would be viewed as the Black family officially bringing the Malfoys into their political orbit.
In truth, it meant the Malfoys would receive the Black family's protection—and in return, they would be expected to support the Council's decisions when called, even acting on behalf of the Blacks in matters where they needed plausible deniability.
Phineas knew it. So did Lucius.
And tomorrow, the world would see it clearly.