Chapter 3
The platform was everything she had imagined and more. The scarlet train gleamed under the morning light, steam curling into the air as laughter rang out, high and bright, blending with the chatter of hurried goodbyes and the occasional sharp whistle from the station guards.
If that’s only the train, what will Hogwarts look like? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, a strange, unfamiliar mix of anticipation and unease curling in her stomach.
She let herself stand there, breathing in the crisp morning air, letting the sheer energy of the place seep into her skin. It was loud, chaotic, and alive in a way she had never experienced before.
A sharp voice cut through her daze.
“Try not to gape like a fool, Penelope.”
Lavinia’s words were smooth but laced with quiet mockery as she adjusted the sleeve of her pristine black robes. Her gaze flicked over the bustling families with thinly veiled disdain, while Septimius carried himself with the same cold arrogance their family was known for. Magnus lingered a step behind them, silent as always, his presence looming.
Penelope swallowed hard, gripping the handle of her trunk with white-knuckled fingers. She forced herself to move, to follow as they wove through the crowd, her feet feeling heavier with each step.
She was so absorbed in the whirlwind of unfamiliar sights and sounds that she didn’t notice where they were going—until suddenly, they came to a halt.
A ripple of tension passed through the air, subtle but suffocating.
Then, she saw them.
The Blacks.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Walburga Black stood like a queen among commoners, her posture poised and stiff, her sharp gaze sweeping over them with quiet scrutiny. Orion was beside her, his expression unreadable, though something about the way he held himself made her stomach tighten. And between them, Regulus. His dark eyes met hers for the briefest of moments—just a flicker, just long enough for her to see the hesitation there—before he turned away, his face smoothing back into careful indifference.
But her eyes kept moving, searching, scanning the space behind them.
Where was he?
She had imagined this moment so many times in the last days—their eyes meeting across the platform, the flicker of recognition, the surprise melting into something warmer, something familiar. She had pictured him grinning at her, shoving through the crowd, arms flung open in that reckless, boyish way of his. She had counted on it, even if she hadn’t realized she had.
But he wasn’t there. Has he forgotten her?
A cold weight settled in her stomach, heavier than before.
Sirius was nowhere to be seen.
Walburga’s sharp eyes swept over them, lingering on Penelope only briefly before moving past her as though she were nothing more than an afterthought.
“Ah, Magnus,” she said, her voice crisp and cool. “It’s good to see you.”
“Walburga. Orion,” Magnus greeted with a short nod. His tone was polite, but there was little warmth in it.
Orion regarded them with quiet scrutiny, his hands clasped behind his back. “I trust everything is in order?”
“As always.” Magnus cast a glance around the bustling platform, ever watchful. “And Regulus?”
Regulus straightened at the mention of his name, his face carefully neutral. “Prepared,” he answered simply.
Walburga gave a small nod of approval before turning back to Magnus. “Lavinia and Septimius look well. I trust their studies will continue to reflect positively on their upbringing.”
Lavinia smiled, all poised politeness. “Of course, Aunt Walburga. Anything less would be a disgrace.”
Septimius only inclined his head, offering no further comment.
Penelope remained silent, hands tightening around the handle of her trunk. The conversation continued around her, polite but distant.
Magnus and Orion spoke of politics, of the importance of maintaining order at Hogwarts. Walburga made some sharp remark about the undesirables being allowed too much freedom, which Lavinia agreed with all too easily. Septimius added his own observations, and even Regulus, in his quiet way, contributed to the discussion.
Penelope listened but said nothing. Even if she wanted to she couldnt, she was too busy searching for sirius. Thinking of every possibility why he wasn’t there.
It wasn’t long before Walburga straightened, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. “We should board.”
“Yes,” Magnus agreed.
As the Blacks turned away, Magnus lingered. His sharp gaze settled on Lavinia and Septimius first, offering them each a curt nod of approval. Then, slowly, his eyes landed on Penelope.
She straightened instinctively, forcing her expression into careful neutrality. She wasn’t sure what to expect—he rarely spoke to her unless necessary. But now, with the train waiting behind her, the future stretching ahead like an abyss, he finally addressed her.
“You will not embarrass this family,” he said, his voice low but firm.
The words were not a warning—they were an expectation, one carved into stone long before this moment.
“You will not draw attention to yourself. You will not seek out foolish company. You will uphold the Lestrange name with dignity, or you will regret it.” His eyes bore into hers, cold and unreadable. “You have been given this opportunity despite your… shortcomings. Do not waste it.”
Penelope’s fingers curled around the handle of her trunk, the pressure grounding her. A dozen responses burned on her tongue, sharp and reckless, but she swallowed them all.
“Yes, Father,” she said instead, her voice steady.
Magnus studied her for a long moment, as if searching for something. If he found it, he gave no indication.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
Penelope exhaled slowly.
She had known there would be no warmth in his farewell. No encouragement, no parting words beyond duty and control. And yet, as she stood there, feeling the weight of her father’s expectations settle over her like a chain.
She stood alone for a moment longer, the platform a blur of movement around her. Children laughing, parents crying, owls hooting irritably from their cages—it all faded into the background as that aching, hollow space inside her grew louder.
Then she shook herself.
This wasn’t the time to fall apart.
Her hand tightened once more on the trunk’s handle, and she began to move, letting the press of bodies guide her toward the train. Her fingers brushed against the chain around her neck, the familiar weight of the little silver star grounding her just enough.
She was halfway to the train, trunk dragging behind her, when she heard it.
“NELLY!”
The name hit her like a lightning bolt.
She froze.
No one had called her that in years—not since everything was taken from her, not since he was taken from her. The sound of it, shouted over the chaos of the platform, was jarring and intimate and impossible.
She turned.
And there he was.
Sirius Black was sprinting toward her like a man possessed—shoulder colliding with strangers, dodging trunks and trolleys, not caring in the slightest about the chaos he left in his wake. His school robes were half-buttoned, hair whipping wildly in the wind, and there was something desperate in the way he moved, like he’d spent years running and had only just now figured out where he was going.
Her breath caught in her throat, then released it all at once.
He nearly collided with a first-year and sent a trolley spinning off-course, not even muttering a apology his eyes landed on her—truly landed—and his whole face lit up like magic itself.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.
He stumbled to a halt just a foot away from her, chest heaving, eyes locked on hers as if he didn’t quite believe she was real.
“Nelly,” he said again, breathless this time, like a prayer dragged across broken glass. “It’s you.”
Her chest burned. The ache of him, of missing him, rose so quickly that for a second she thought it might swallow her whole.
“Sirius,” she whispered, her voice cracking on the edges of his name.
And then they were moving at the same time.
She dropped the handle of her trunk, and he closed the distance in a heartbeat, arms wrapping around her, pulling her in with a force that knocked the air from her lungs. She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder as his hand found the back of her head, holding her like he might fall apart if he didn’t.
They didn’t speak. They couldn’t. There were too many words and none at all. Just years of silence collapsing between them in a single, shuddering breath.
“I thought—” he started, voice muffled against her hair. “They said—after you stopped writing, I thought something had happened. I thought they’d—Merlin, I thought I’d lost you.”
“I wasn’t allowed,” she choked out. “They wouldn’t let me—Sirius, I wanted to, I tried—”
“I know,” he said, and somehow he did. “I know.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her. His grey eyes, once full of fire, were shadowed now—older, tired in a way boys their age shouldn’t be. But they were his eyes. Still sharp. Still hers.
“You came,” he murmured, a trace of wonder in his voice.
“So did you,” she said, smiling through the tremble in her lips.
His grin broke through then—crooked, wide, and so achingly familiar it made her throat tighten. “What, miss my big dramatic entrance? Not a chance.”
And just like that, the world returned. The train whistled behind them. Voices buzzed and echoed around the platform. But nothing felt the same.
Because for the first time in years, they had each other again.
Penelope couldn’t speak. She just stared at him, equal parts relief and disbelief flooding her chest. He was taller than she remembered, but still him. Messy and too loud and too much in all the ways that made her feel a little less like she was drowning.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s find a compartment before the only ones left are next to some kid who’s brought six tarantulas and a flute.”
She laughed—actually laughed. Sirius took her trunk without asking and slung his bag more securely over his shoulder, making his way to the train.
Penelope followed him, the weight in her chest lifting with every step. The pain from earlier still lingered—her father’s words, Walburga’s eyes, the suffocating pressure—but it was dulled now. Easier to carry.
She wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.