Jupiter | Harry James Potter

prologue

As I stepped onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters for the very first time, a wave of relief washed over me. With every step I took, my freedom was that much closer. I would no longer be trapped within my mother's piercing clutch or forced to bear the weight of her last name on my shoulders once I finally reached the place I would come to know as home.

I stood in front of the marvelous train, my heart pounding at the thought of leaving my mother behind and starting a new life until the summer.

"Now, Draco, do try to stay out of trouble." Lucius Malfoy, my uncle, said to his son. "You wouldn't want to end up with the... wrong sort." I ignored his gaze.

"Of course, Father," Draco said with a smirk towards me. I watched Draco share a brief glance with his father, his expression turning carefully neutral. Despite the crushing tension between them, Draco remained composed, his chin held high as if anyone dared to challenge him.

As Draco's mother, Narcissa, pulled him in for a hug, I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Envy for the warmth and affection shared between them, envy for the bond that seemed unbreakable despite the shadows that loomed over their family.

I watched as Draco embraced his mother, his expression softening ever so slightly as he buried his face in her shoulder. For a moment, the facade of arrogance slipped away, revealing the vulnerability that lay beneath.

And in that moment, I saw a glimpse of the boy Draco truly was—a boy caught between duty and desire, between loyalty to his family and the yearning for something more.

Uncertain of my expectations, I stood witnessing the poignant farewells of the closely-knit family. Though I didn't anticipate a farewell from them, I remained rooted to the spot, perhaps longing to experience the warmth of a family bond like theirs, something I had never encountered before.

It was evident that my parents' union lacked love; it was a union meant solely to perpetuate the legacies of the Lestrange and Black families. Even as a child, I understood that my purpose was to carry forward their names. My father disappointed that I wasn't a son, departed before I could even begin to comprehend the concept of a simple goodbye.

I never saw his absence as a reason to shed tears; if he had stayed, I believe there would have been far more to grieve over in my life. My mother considered me a burden, often choosing to ignore my existence. To her, I symbolized the life she was trapped in.

Casting a final look at my cousin, I merged into the crowd bidding farewells, and boarded the train. Peering down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, I observed the other first-years hurriedly making their way onto the train, tears glistening in their eyes as they waved frantically to their parents on the platform. I couldn't help but envy their seemingly ordinary lives, despite any potential lack of excitement.

Moving down the corridor, I weaved through the compartments filling up rapidly, seeking one where nobody recognized my name. While it appeared straightforward, the task proved more challenging than anticipated.

As I walked by, heads turned and hushed conversations among the pure-bloods filled the train. While this attention might have unsettled others, I opted to see the humor in it. Though I didn't desire a reputation as intimidating or "the Lestrange girl," I found the situation rather entertaining.

I observed a fair-skinned, plump boy with perspiring bangs and elongated ears clutching a toad, a girl with blonde pigtails and a rosy complexion, and a boy sporting a long face, slender lips, and a sandy-blonde bowl haircut. Most of these children were all familiar faces from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Only a handful of pure-bloods or half-bloods refrained from casting curious glances my way, yet even if they didn't know who I was, their parents did.