1st September 1991
Leather boots struck against cobblestone at precisely eight forty-five.
Before him stood a nondescript stone archway, the digits 10 and 9 etched faintly on either side—silent sentinels of the gateway to another world.
"This must be the place," Bondrewd murmured, his voice languid, almost bemused, as his eyes scanned the innocuous structure.
Despite numerous inquiries, the process still struck him as... unrefined. Walking through solid stone in a bustling muggle station, kept secret only by a fragile veil of magic. A crude yet necessary tradition, one that demanded constant maintenance of Muggle-Repelling charms. A single slip and the facade could crumble.
He paced slowly before the barrier, glove-bound hands reaching forward, fingers almost brushing against the cool surface.
Before he could test its integrity, a sharp shoulder collided with his own.
"Move aside. We've places to be," came a disdainful voice.
"Mudbloods," another sneered, the word bitter on their tongue.
Two cloaked figures vanished into the wall without so much as a backward glance.
"Pure-bloods…" Bondrewd echoed softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as his violet eyes followed their path. With practiced ease, he matched their stride, slipping in behind them through the stone.
"Apologies, sir. I meant no offense. My name is Bondrewd—may I ask yours?" he inquired politely, offering a gloved hand as if the earlier affront had never occurred.
The smaller of the two turned slightly, his expression a mixture of arrogance and suspicion.
"Blaise. Blaise Zabini," came the curt reply. He made no move to reciprocate the handshake.
"Ah… the Kingmakers," Bondrewd mused aloud, feigning reverence. "A name that echoes through more than just wizarding circles."
A flicker of amusement crossed Zabini's face, his posture relaxing marginally.
The elder figure, presumably his mother, gave a pointed sigh. "Come along now."
Zabini opened his mouth—likely to offer a retort—but thought better of it, turning sharply to follow her.
Bondrewd watched them depart, his expression serene.
"Draco said the snakes were manageable. Perhaps he overestimated their civility."
He stepped through the wall moments later, emerging before the gleaming scarlet engine nestled on silver rails. The platform buzzed with energy—trunks trundling, owls hooting, voices overlapping.
"Now, where would Draco be?" he mused, catching the gleam of pale gold hair through a carriage window.
He boarded the train, weaving through the corridor with polite nods and murmured apologies, each step deliberate. When he reached his intended compartment, muffled voices and laughter echoed behind the door.
"And then I nearly hit a plane—oh! Bondrewd!" Malfoy's voice rose with delighted surprise.
Bondrewd entered with calm poise, eyes momentarily adjusting to the filtered sunlight inside. "Mr. Malfoy. A pleasure."
Draco grasped his hand eagerly. "This is the one I was talking about," he said to the others with a grin.
Inside sat two other boys—broad-shouldered, slack-jawed, unmistakably Crabbe and Goyle.
"Malfoy's muscle. Loyal. Simple. Disposable." Bondrewd noted.
"Bondrewd," he offered, "no surname."
Crabbe blinked, then extended a hand. "Crabbe."
"And that's Goyle," Draco said, gesturing toward the taller boy, who nodded mutely.
"Seen Potter yet? My father says it would be wise to befriend him."
"Not yet," Bondrewd replied.
Draco smirked. "Perhaps he got lost on the platform."
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled, their laughter exaggerated. Bondrewd smiled, slipping easily into the rhythm.
"I nearly had the same issue," he added, eliciting a satisfied grin from Draco.
"Yes, well, my father says Mudbloods often do-" Draco started, catching himself. "Er, that is… muggle-borns."
"It can be rather perplexing," Bondrewd agreed mildly before shifting the conversation to Quidditch, a topic which allowed Draco to launch into a triumphant monologue.
"So easily wound. So easily led."
Time passed swiftly. Malfoy had been bragging for over forty minutes before he finally stood. "Come, let's find Potter."
Crabbe and Goyle lumbered after him. Bondrewd followed, his footsteps silent.
As they passed one compartment, a familiar voice called out, "Mudbloods following you now, Draco?"
Draco's smile faltered. He turned. Blaise Zabini leaned lazily against the doorframe, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"How's your father?" Draco asked evenly.
The smirk vanished. Zabini's hand twitched toward his wand.
"Silencio."
The spell was spoken softly, yet it echoed with finality. Blaise's eyes widened as he clawed at his throat, unable to speak.
Bondrewd stepped forward, gaze flat and clinical. "Cursing the Malfoy heir behind his back? Dangerous habit."
Draco blinked. "Thanks…"
Bondrewd offered a light wave. Crabbe shifted forward, looming over Zabini.
"Let us continue," Bondrewd said cheerfully. "It will wear off by the time we reach Hogwarts."
Draco hesitated only a moment before moving on.
As they approached another compartment, a voice exclaimed from inside , "That was bloody brilliant."
Draco chuckled, flipping the latch open.