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Pavarotti twittered good-naturedly as Blaine Anderson lifted his birdcage onto the top of the pile of luggage on his trolley. The little canary seemed as relieved as Blaine was that they'd managed to both get across the Underground, along with Blaine's two humongous suitcases and rucksack, unscathed. Shrugging off the incredulous looks from passers-by, Blaine started pushing his trolley in the oh-so-familiar direction of platform 9¾. All this effort would be worth it, he told himself, the moment he sat down on the Hogwarts Express.

Navigating his trolley through the crowds, Blaine paused when he heard a voice he recognised. His eyes searched the surrounding faces and lit up as he exclaimed, "Mike!"

"Hey, Blaine!" Mike Chang jogged over, hand raised in greeting. He stopped to gesture excitedly at his outfit. "How've I done fitting in?"

Blaine glanced it over: jumper, jeans, trainers. He nodded in approval. "Very nice," he laughed. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks." Mike grinned. His eyes wandered over the crowd behind Blaine. "Your parents didn't want to come with you?"

Blaine fiddled with the bars of Pavarotti's cage defensively. "I know better than to ask them; it'd just cause an argument." In an effort to change the topic, he asked brightly, "So, N.E.W.T.s this year, huh?"

"Yeah. My dad's really getting on my case about them," Mike shrugged. "But it should be okay. You don't have anything to worry about, though, do you, Mr. 'Bright Future Ahead of Him'?"

Blaine thought back to Professor Sprout's comment from last year and chuckled. "Neither do you, man. You've just gotta do what you want instead of only what your dad says."

Mike laughed, looking back at his parents. "I'd better go say goodbye," he said eventually. "Meet you on the train?"

"Sure."

As Mike headed back to his family, Blaine continued to the barriers between platforms 9 and 10. On the way, he noticed a group of Ravenclaw boys he recognised, including Trent, the newly elected Head Boy. Such an odd thought – people his age, Prefects and Head Boys. Blaine caught his eye and exchanged a friendly smile, but, as a Hufflepuff, didn't want to intrude.

He passed through the barrier to platform 9¾, quickly settling into a carriage and stowing his luggage away. Mike would probably be here in a minute.

Suddenly, a brown-haired Slytherin boy pulled open the door of his compartment. His eyes fell on Blaine and he paused. "Oh." He shut the door and continued on.

Blaine had recognised him as Kurt Hummel, Slytherin Prefect. As Blaine remembered, he'd been a favourite for Head Boy – but Trent was, by far, the more popular option. Slytherins were typically widely disliked by most students at Hogwarts, and Blaine loathed their views on blood status. As if he was any less deserving of his education just because both his parents were Muggles: if anything, he was more deserving – he'd completely lost the respect of his family by going to Hogwarts. He found himself glowering at the door as Sam Evans appeared in its window.

"Blaine!" he cried, his voice muffled through the glass. He let himself in and pulled his trunk through, throwing himself on the seat opposite Blaine. "What's up?"

Blaine shook himself, and then his head. "Hi, Sam. Nothing. Just thinking."

Sam peered out the compartment window at the platform. "Hey, have you seen Mike anywhere?"

"Yeah, he's saying bye to his parents. He'll be here in a minute."

Sam looked at Blaine for a moment. "You alright, dude?"

"Of course." Blaine forced himself to smile. 1st September always made him sad – thinking about his parents, and their refusal to involve themselves in his life as a wizard. But seeing Kurt Hummel seemed to have added insult to injury, and he resented them all for it.

"Blaine…" Sam caught his gaze and held it. "You'd tell me if something was up, right?"

Blaine raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Sure, I would."

He wasn't sure if Sam could tell that he was lying. Luckily, Mike arrived to alleviate the tension, and Blaine settled back, ready to enjoy the train ride with his friends.

As Kurt's watch ticked past 11 o'clock, he leant his forehead against the window of his compartment and watched the platform slide away. He allowed himself a minute to sit still before he pulled on his robes and pinned his Prefect badge to his lapel. He was never sure what he hated more: the snarky comments and sideways glances he got from the other Slytherins whenever they saw his Muggle clothes, or the gasps and looks of apprehension he got from the rest of the school in his robes. He didn't know which he preferred to bear.

Kurt sighed as he folded his blazer and hid it away in his satchel. His dad had complimented him on it that morning, and thinking about him made Kurt's chest tight. When he'd arrived home for the summer holidays, Burt Hummel had been in hospital – heart attack, he'd been told by a nurse. Burt was a Muggle: the hospital had had no way to contact him at Hogwarts, and Burt hardly owned an owl. He could've just… died, and Kurt wouldn't even have known.

There were so many times Kurt had wanted to drop out of Hogwarts, and that had been the scariest. But Burt was always insistent that he stay. "To show the world you can do it." In fact, he'd always said he was twice as proud of Kurt as any other parent was of their kid, since Kurt's mum couldn't be.

Kurt smiled sadly out the window, brushing his eyes to stop himself tearing up. He missed his mum. He missed how exciting she'd made magic seem.

Elizabeth Hummel had been in Hufflepuff. Kurt had hoped to also be, but the Sorting Hat's word was final. Although Burt had insisted it didn't matter, it mattered to Kurt. And, apparently, it mattered to the other Slytherins.

He couldn't wait for the end of the year. Leaving Hogwarts behind him for good and getting the job at St. Mungo's he'd wanted ever since his mum had quit it to raise him. He'd even asked about work experience, but they didn't offer it to people without N.E.W.T.s.

"Anything off the trolley, Kurt?"

The voice broke Kurt's bubble of self-pity. He smiled. "No, thank you."

The witch shrugged and handed him a pumpkin pasty. "Come on. On the house."

Kurt took it and nodded. "You always see me at my worst," he commented jokingly.

"Everyone misses their family right now," she said sincerely. "And you've only got one year left. You'll be out of here in no time, you'll see."

Kurt hoped she was right. He thought about telling this witch about his dad's heart attack but –

"Hey, could I get two cauldron cakes, a bag of Bertie's, and three chocolate frogs, please?"

It was the leader of a group of three boys, whom Kurt knew was Mike Chang, Hufflepuff Chaser. There was another with straight blond hair, and the one whom Kurt recognised as the dark-haired Hufflepuff he'd accidentally disturbed earlier. The two made awkward eye contact for the second time that day, before Kurt altered his gaze and stared determinedly at a wheel of the snack trolley.

"Absolutely, love," the witch replied briskly, fussing about with her wares. She looked at Kurt one last time. "You'll be fine, dear," she said with a smile.

As Kurt watched her go and began eating his pasty, he started doubting it.

A/N: So... before you freak out that I'm rewriting this, I promise that it's gonna be basically the same story, just with (hopefully) better-constructed plot, more thorough planning, and fewer typos! Believe me, I feel terrible for leaving it for so long and I do still have every intention of finishing this fic. Please favourite/follow/review if you like it, though, and/or if you have any feedback. Thank you so much for reading, whether you have followed this story since the start or have only just started reading it, and I hope you enjoy!