Children of the Revolution: Year One

Chapter 3 - Rosalie Selwyn

I FINALLY arrived at King's Cross station early in the afternoon, after a dreadfully drawn out morning of carefully concealed, but nearly bursting, excitement.

Platform 9 ¾ was waiting for me!

I tried to keep myself at a steady pace between my parents, tuning out their bland discussion of politics or whatever world issue of the day they disagreed with. I was more occupied with the knowledge that I, myself, had picked out the outfit for the day.

Usually my mother sent a seamstress up to my room with a new outfit for important days like these, but the house elf she usually sent for the seamstress had gotten sidetracked with another creature of its own kind. Poor thing. I tried exceedingly hard to not let my, already dealt with, anger rise to the surface at the memory of how my mother treated that innocent elf, but I couldn't help how my smile wilted slightly. Shaking my head, I tried to rid myself of the hate and, instead, focus on my carefully constructed outfit.

I had chosen a simple black skirt, an item I knew my mother secretly hated, with black boots and tights. My father never liked those boots either. I also chose my favorite blue jumper and some jewelry I purchased on our trip to France last summer. My family had just approached the wall concealing the platform when my eyes caught onto a family who all shared a shock of red hair.

Before I could get a word in about awaiting the wizarding world or about the exceptionally bright hair that family shared, I caught my father sneering at the family. My mother tilted her chin up impossibly higher at the sight of them. I furrowed my brows at their expressions before the dreadful thought hit me.

The blood traitor family. The Weasley's, I believe.

I tried to harbor the same feelings my parents were displaying, but, truthfully, the feelings never arose. They seemed like a cheerful family, all laughing and hugging. They seemed comfortable, even happy. Silently, I felt a spike of jealousy, but refused to recognize such feelings.

Before I could physically harbor any reaction, my father steered me away and towards the wall quickly. I tightened my grip on the cart in front of me.

"Ready, Rosalie?" My father asked me. Nodding nervously, I did my best to put on a brave face. I was almost too glad when my parents placed their hands on my cart with me and suddenly, we ran through together. I shut my eyes tight, senses suddenly assaulted with a shock of sounds: a train horn, owls hooting, cats hissing, families talking.

When I opened my eyes, a big red and black train stood tall along the tracks,

"Woah," I whispered.

"Let us get your stuff ready, then," My mother said stiffly, already releasing her hold on the cart and scowling distastefully. Unmoved, I gleefully pushed my cart ahead, walking to the back of the train.

I passed many different witches and wizards, some crying, some smiling, and some severely underdressed, but a certain family stuck out to me, just as the Weasley's had. Two tall adults, one a man with startlingly blonde hair and the other with bold, red lipstick.

"The Malfoys are here," my father whispered above me, already putting his hand on my mother's back and guiding her to them while I followed behind closely.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's eyes slid to us as we approached. My parents stopped in front of me and greeted the other family. I couldn't quite tell what the Malfoys were thinking, with how regal they seemed.

"Rosalie, darling," my mother called quietly, pulled me from my stupor, "Come here, please."

Quickly releasing my grasp from the trolley that held my belongings, I nodded (though it was really only to give myself confidence), and found my place between my parents. As I took in the family once more, my father swiftly walked towards the trolley, deciding to deal with it himself.