Chapter Text
The light was dimmed from the thickening grey clouds that threatened to let their sorrows pour down upon the welsh island of Anglesey.
It was as if the world knew of the agony and attempted to let someone know of the pain that he hid behind a stoic and silent mask.
Virgil stood again with a sigh.
One of his professors had come standing at his doorstep only an hour earlier, telling him that he was to be accompanied to Hogwarts, since his situation was a “special case” making it difficult for him to travel with the other students the next weekend.
He had been asked to pack his bag and all of the school supplies that he had already had in his possession. The professor would help him collect the rest at Diagon Alley before they would travel to the school by portkey.
As Virgil kicked around the garden of his late grandmother’s, looking for his stupid cat Fetch, his mood kept plummeting even further at the thought of how he would never be able to return.
The smells of the high, wild grass and the ocean not far away, and the sight of the small cottage he grew up in, with all its little trinkets, dried herbs and shining crystals, almost made it unbearable to be there, his grey eyes flitting from one space filled with memories to another.
His grandmother had been perfect.
Even though he had been meant to be cast out of their order, together with his parents, she had stood her ground, stood up to the other elders and made them let him stay. It was not his fault that his parents decided to get married, he was just a child! Her only grandchild.
Even though he had never been an official outcast, it had very much felt like it and he would have acted accordingly if not for his respect toward his grandmother. She was his only link to the order, and with her gone, the last living string that connected him to his druidic heritage had disappeared.
Normally druids did not attend schools of witchcraft and wizardry such as Hogwarts, they taught their own and kept to themselves, not very often merging with the wizarding community and never with the muggle world. But with him they would not let him participate at the lessons for the kids, he was not worthy enough.
He had not felt it more than the day of his ten-year birthday, where a druid would get a triskelion tattoo right underneath the collarbone, a sign of heritage and a connection to nature and magic of old. It was something to be proud of, a day to celebrate. He had been denied that.
It had not been long after that, that his magic had begun showing much more aggressive signs, that a middle-aged ministry official and an elderly witch with a pointy hat and a stern face had knocked on their door and had come with the suggestion of him attending Hogwarts instead of walking around like a ticking timebomb. Professors McGonagall’s words.
Since the professors understood his “special case” with him not having anywhere to go after his grandmother’s death, and his parent’s earlier deaths when their house had, had a gas leak, the teachers had together with the board, made an exception to the rule, or so professor Sanders had claimed, and chosen to let him live at the school for the last duration of his school years.
Which in short meant for the next three years and then he would be alone.
Though he already felt it.
Virgil had walked the garden aimlessly, halfheartedly calling for his cat, unconsciously trying to stretch the time before his deportation.
Unfortunately, as if the mere realization of what he was doing called for irony and punishment, Fetch ran out from the underbrush, her sleek, black coat matted from the receding light, her yellow eyes dark and her mouth filled with… a paper ball?
“No, Fetch” Virgil groaned to himself, looking to the heavens for help.
That cat never did what was told. Nothing could be left alone before that cat came to collect it for her burrow underneath his bed. Whether it was his bed here or at his dorm had never mattered.
She was weird like that.
She looked at him for approval, saliva flooding the paper little by little.
Virgil could not help the snort, as he went to pick her slight frame up and into his arms. she began purring at once, colliding her head with his chin in greeting, making his aching heart feel slightly better.
“You’re a weird-ass cat, you know that Fetch?”
She answered with a soft trill, letting the paper fall upon the sleeve of his favorite hoodie.
Disgusting.
“Morgan!”
Virgil turned toward the cottage, where professor Sanders came dragging his suitcase and cat carrier through the backdoor, a polite smile on his lips and his colorful robes flowing around him.
His rather tense face lit up in relief as he caught sight of the bundle of Havana Brown cat, in the arms of the dark-haired teenager.
“Oh, you found the cat! Excellent” he said and with a flourish pulled out a leather belt from a pocket.
“Are you ready to go?”
No, never. He wanted to say it, but the words caught in his throat as he looked around for the last time.
The garden was where his grandmother had taught him of flowers and herbs, which had magical properties, and which were used for proclamations of love. He had sat upon the stonewall and observed as she had used wandless magic to repair the roof, uttering druidic spells of old, in words no longer used – forgotten as Latin had taken over.
She had let him run in the rain, exclaiming astonishment when he had made a dry dome around himself, giving him a space to protect against the wet drops, that he made fall heavier and the wind picking up in strength as he had laughed carefree and childlike.
Virgil swallowed a lump, before nodding slightly.
Professor Sanders nodded in response before walking closer, petting Fetch behind her ear and holding the leather belt out for him to take.
“Virgil.”
Virgil and professor Sanders both looked up toward the gruff voice.
Standing in the backdoor entrance stood the leader of the elders, Taliesin.
He was wearing his druidic robes, with the hood pulled up, almost hiding the whole of his face behind a curtain of shadow. In his arms was a small, old-looking, wooden box, held carefully in his soft grip.
Virgil bowed his head slightly in respect but could feel the tension in his stomach grow and his heart beating harder against his chest. Taliesin did not reciprocate the sign of acknowledgement.
“We were never supposed to let you stay” Taliesin told him softly.
No shit, Virgil thought to himself, trying very hard not to role his eyes at the blatant use of the sentence that every adult in their order had uttered in his direction at least thrice, and had taught their children to start telling him as soon as they knew what it meant. He was not one of them. He was not whole, only halfway into the community that valued their history, heritage, spirituality and the many druidic traditions that they had kept alive for millennia. He was but a halfling. Born by a mother who had, had the soul of old and life of a druid, but she had loved a simple man. An English muggle.
Virgil’s blood and magic were unclean. And no one let him ever forget it, not even his grandmother’s protection could silence the hurtful words he had, had to endure all his life.
Taliesin walked closer, his old legs slow but his back straight and prideful. Virgil could hear professor Sanders shift slightly beside him, as the elder came to a stop in front of them, his wrinkled face shown slightly as the shadow disappeared from it.
“I am not trying to diminish the way that we have treated you, but you do fully well know that we cannot let a non-druid stay in our community” he told him.
Non-druid.
It stung quite a bit, Virgil could feel how his body drew inward and how Fetch stopped purring in his arms.
“Though Alaw, may she rest in peace, wanted you to have a reminder about this side of your ancestry, when she could no longer be in this world.”
Taliesin stretched the wooden box out toward Virgil. It had old sigils carved into the surface of the lid. And faded, painted flowery art on its sides. He shifted Fetch unto one arm and took it carefully from the druid leader, turning it this way and that to look it all over. The bottom had many small initials carved into the wood, and a key hole at the front, that would not open without a key when he tested it. He could hear things rattle inside of it, which only further sparked his curiosity. Virgil looked up through his fringe, the question floating in his mind, as to how the heck he was supposed to get whatever it contained, without the key.
“The box has gone through your specific family for many generations. Many more than we can remember” he told him. “It has been magically bound, and the key has always been lost, but it is rightfully yours and so it shall be passed on to you… as Alaw wanted it.”
“Right” Virgil answered, the disbelief clear in his voice. “Thanks.”
The elder took a couple of steps back, before standing with his hands clasped together in front of him.
“We will have you in prayer tonight, to wish you a safe journey with few trials in the societies beyond our own.”
Virgil clicked his tongue at the formality and shifted both cat and box, to get a better grip on both and at the same time, letting it be easier for him to grab the leather belt. He did not glance back before he had the portkey in his hand. Professor Sanders looked at a small, golden pocket watch, before nodding at him, a small comforting smile playing on his face. Virgil could not stop the cheeky call he made, as the portkey started its transportation.
“Don’t wait up old man!”
The street of Diagon Alley was busy, with both adults doing window-shopping, families getting ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor and students doing their school shopping, buying their supplies for the new school year. Flamboyant colors mixed with the scents of warm summer air and the clothing on display outside of Madam Malkins the two of them were stepping out of, with bags filled with new, fitting school robes for him, created a calm scenery on an otherwise gloom day.
Virgil had achieved in a growth spurt of three inches during the summer break, making him 5.8 feet and his old pant legs hanging above his ankles.
Professor Sanders had scoffed when he had asked what Virgil needed, after they had picked up some money from his grandmother’s box in Gringotts and Virgil had tried getting out of shopping. There were too many people in the streets, too much noise and eyes that Virgil had felt were constantly on his back.
The fact that the professor had opened his suitcase in the middle of the street and held a couple of his dark pants out in front of him to measure, did not help on the sudden nervousness either. It had then been decided that he needed a new wardrobe for the school year.
The embarrassment from that had not disappeared, even as they walked down the street, his suitcase, on the wagon he pulled, filled with new shirts, pants and robes. They walked in silence. The professor could probably feel the tension flowing around Virgil’s slight frame and had chosen to keep his mouth shut, which Virgil was very thankful for.
The Second-Hand bookshop of Reynolds smelled of dust and old pages, as the two of them moved around the tables with mountains of books. Virgil had already gotten the last books he needed, and a first edition of the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them book, that he definitely could use a couple of sickles and a single knut on.
He was moving silently along the walls, letting his hand glide slightly over the hardback covers, of the elder spell books. The sun shone into the store through the large window, giving the room a golden glow and making the dust glitter in the air around him.
It was calming. But suffocating at the same time, the air thickening the longer he waited for the professor to finish talking with the store manager.
Virgil looked behind him, seeing the two men discuss the price of a book that professor Sanders was cradling to his chest.
He let out an impatient sigh and quickly decided to walk out the door and join Fetch and his things that stood just outside next to the big window, remembering to make sure that the distracted professor could see him, when he found the time to do so.
Virgil bowed down to look inside the cat carrier, meeting the lazy eyes of his best friend.
“Hey there girl… you doing good?”
Fetch yawned big and started purring at the sound of his voice, before she got ready to sleep some more in her huddle of soft pastel towels.
“Wish I could care as much as you do about anything” he chuckled, poking softly at the carrier. Fetch meowed quietly, sounding more like a kitten than the actual adult cat that she was supposed to be. Virgil’s heart melted a bit at that.
The sound of boisterous laughter broke the peace of calm talking and soft playing of a gramophone somewhere in the street. The laughter was three distinguished laughter’s. One a slight chortle, the other quite melodious and the last a thrown-head-back and laughing loudly for others to hear kind. One that made his heart skip a beat.
Virgil tried to hide himself away behind his properties, but no matter how he twisted, turned and cramped, he could not manage in disappearing or even think to run into the store again, before the coming sixth years walked toward him. Their laughter stopping once one of them recognized him.
The red haired, sweater wearing Gryffindor pushed his house mates, smiling and nodding toward him as he got their attention.
A rowdy laugh came from the tall, blonde as he stepped in front of his friends, closer to Virgil, who now saw no point in hiding any longer and stood up. He tried seeming unintimidated by the most popular pair of chocolate brown eyes at Hogwarts.
The tip of his ears began reddening.
“Well, well. Isn’t it the druidic snake” the older boy started. “Where are you slithering off to? I didn’t know that druids came to these wizarding parts.”
Roman Ayers and his goons; Freddy and Maurice.
Great.
Virgil shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the small stab of panic that arose in his chest. If he concentrated more about his own things, than giving them his attention, maybe they would leave him alone after a bit of time.
“I think he’s ignoring us!” the biggest of them, Maurice, yelped dramatically. “Maybe if we poke him with a stick, he’ll actually do something instead of being such a coward.”
Roman chuckled with his friends, before stepping forward, moving with grand gestures as he used his unnecessary dramatic flair to seem bolder than he really was. As if Virgil really was a snake they were teasing, as it sunbathed peacefully on a rock.
Virgil followed the gestures carefully with his eyes, as Roman moved closer to him, a big smile broken out on his face and his eyes glinting with mischief. Virgil tried curling further in on himself, looking behind him in through the window, looking for a certain teacher to come out. Please.
Something grabbed his shoulder tightly, making Virgil jump back as if the touch had burned him, turning to hiss loudly at the offending object, his face scrunching up in a dangerous mask.
The eyes that just seconds before had taking great pleasure in making Virgil as uncomfortable as possible, were now wide in surprise at the reaction that were given to them. Roman’s hand had swiftly moved away from Virgil, instead used as a shield in front of him, making a gesture that was meant to calm him down. But it did not.
It was as if the world stood still and Virgil had time to take in every reaction and facial expression of his behavior. Eyes widened on the faces of the bullies, people passing by looked back at the commotion with unfiltered disturbed faces.
As he finally understood how weird it all must have seemed, the world started spinning again and his heart started pumping faster and faster, his face paling drastically and the hiss between his teeth abruptly disappeared, leaving instead a face of horror of what he had done.
With a sinking sensation, he saw smiles break out on the faces of Freddy and Maurice, before peals of laughter broke out from the both of them, startling Virgil badly. Even Roman jumped a tiny bit.
“He really hissed!” laughed Freddy loudly, “You’re truly a Snake Boy!”
“Come on then Basilisk! Give us your biggest, baddest hiss” joined Maurice in, with his chortling laugh.
The both of them started hissing back at Virgil mockingly, raising their hands in front of them, shaking them, to appear dangerous. Some of the extra spectators were smiling and chuckling softly behind the bullies.
A smile was threatening to break out on Roman’s lips as he yet again regained his bravado, standing taller and awfully confident in front of Virgil’s mortified form.
He felt heat form in his stomach and the blood in his paling face returned full force with the anger that crashed around him in furious waves.
Virgil walked around the wagon with his beloved cat and suitcase on and walked straight up in the face of Roman, pushing his hands hard against the jock’s chest, making him stumble back, indignant anger making its way across his face at the shove.
“It’s funny huh?! What’s your problem man?”
The laughing behind Roman stopped and soon his goons were standing by his sides once again. Standing there as if he was the one that started it all. Damn all their stupid self-righteous Gryffindor tendencies.
God, he hated Gryffindors.
Virgil stared them all in the eyes, only breaking eye contact when he tried intimidating the next one. He felt in control for once, they were not covering before him, but the fact that they had minds to at least stop talking was enough for Virgil to stand taller and stretch his arms out by his sides, chin held high and grey eyes piercing his tormentors.
“Where’s that Gryffindor courage at? Scared?”
A satisfied smirk broke out, at the sight of Roman freaking Ayers glowering at him but choosing not to engage for once. Which truthfully was a pity now that Virgil was finally itching for a fight.
In all the tension and aggressive teenage, testosterone, Virgil did not see how the three Gryffindor’s eyes shifted slightly to his right, before turning back to Virgil. Roman even looked shortly at the ground before him, taking a few small steps back toward his friends that backed him up.
Virgil was too far gone, choosing to follow Roman’s steps, his smirk almost changing into a smile at the victory that awaited him. He was about to keep roasting the Hogwarts “Prince” but as he stepped forward, opening his mouth, something grabbed the back of his collar, pulling him back and making him stumble back toward his wagon and almost falling over it.
Fetch began yowling, surprised when her case was shaken around the compart, walking around the tiny space she had to move around in.
Virgil looked up as someone pulled him back to his feet, ready to give the person a piece of his mind. His face blanked though, and he quickly looked away, when he saw the serious “teacher” face of professor Sanders standing tall amongst the group of fighting teenagers.
“What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?” he asked. Roman was about to answer, his dignified pose in control yet again, but was quickly silenced by a glare from their teacher.
“If this was at Hogwarts you would have gotten a detention for sure, all of you” he scolded, “but since I have no say outside of the walls, I will carefully tell you that as students of a prestigious school such as Hogwarts, you are required to have a certain sense of good behavior!”
They all bowed their heads in shame, though Virgil saw a couple of stink eyes shot his way through his black fringe. Stupid Gryffindors.
“Now be on your way, all of you, or I’ll be forced to write to your parents.”
The goons walked away quickly, leaving Roman to follow. Though before Roman turned fully he looked back at the professor, nodding slightly in respect, none of his grandeur anywhere to be seen.
“I’m sorry professor Sanders.”
Their teacher smiled slightly, before shooing Roman away with his hands.
“Just don’t let it happen again” he said, “have a nice last week of summer.”
Roman jumped and struck a pose, his hand in the air and his face looking toward the sun, a big, beautiful smile on his face. Virgil could puke.
“Never will I make such a foul display, in which could give a bad reputation to our darling Hogwarts! You have my word, my good sir!”
The good professor, gave a big, barking laugh as Roman finally left, a bouncy spring to his steps.
Virgil followed him with his eyes. The red and white robes could almost have been used as dress robes for a gala, it was ridiculous! Who wore clothing like that on a regular day? Who wore robes like that, period? Roman Ayers of course, as if he aspired to show off his pureblood status to the whole world.
“Virgil…”
Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, before moving to drag the wagon down the streets.
“Virgil, what happened?”
He did not respond. But when he had to shake of the adult’s hand from his shoulder, he turned toward him slightly, a carefully placed mask of indifference on his face.
“Nothing happened, we’re cool.”
As he turned toward the street again, he did not see the suspicious, calculating look that was send his way, but the teacher did not say anything else.
Virgil just wanted this day to end. He wanted to be able to lay down in his dorm bed, no his permanent bed, and just disappear from the world for the rest of the year.
But hey, you can’t get everything you want, or rather anything in Virgil’s case.