Chapter Text
Prologue
Professor Stephen Strange approached the Headmistress’s office in the high tower at a brisk trot. His cloak ran herself soothingly over his back; she knew he was nervous, even if it didn't show in his calm blue-gray eyes. This would be his first year as head of House, and despite having taught at Hogwarts for years, he was nervous in his new position. And the Headmistress intimidated him. She intimidated everyone - except for maybe Professor Fury, but nothing seemed to intimidate him - so at least Stephen wasn't alone in that.
He reached the top of the tower and collected himself before reaching out to knock on the ancient door. Before his knuckles could reach the wood, it swung open and the Headmistress’s serene voice drifted out.
“Come in, Stephen.”
He suppressed a shiver and walked inside. Strange had only been in this office once since he’d been hired - last June, when she’d offered him the post as head of Ravenclaw after Professor Pym stepped down. Usually he saw the Headmistress at high table or in the staff lounge, and that was it.
The portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses stared down at him from the walls above well ordered bookshelves. The desk was completely clear; a wide expanse of warm, empty wood. His own much smaller office was cluttered and a bit chaotic; her’s was a sea of tranquility.
She stood with her back to him, green light shining up onto her face. Her hands made a complicated gesture, and the light vanished. Steven caught sight of a small elliptical bronze object the size of a child’s hand on the shelf before the Headmistress closed heavy metal doors over the cupboard. She turned to face him and smiled
“Thank you for coming.”
Professor Strange inclined his head. “Of course, Headmistress.”
“I have a mission for you.”
“A mission?” Stephen raised an eyebrow. “Outside of the school?”
She smiled. “Yes. Come, sit.” She glided over to her desk, her saffron robe rustling as she walked. He always got the feeling that she made noise on purpose, that the golden silk would be silent if she didn't will it otherwise. He sat down. “Would you care for tea?”
“Sure, thanks.”
She waved a hand and a Chinese style iron tea set floated from a nearby shelf. She poured green tea into the small cups, silently taking her time with the ritual.
Strange's cloak rippled behind him, sensing his agitation.
The Headmistress’s eyes flicked to the movement. “She is very fond of you.”
He started. “Yes, well, she did choose me.”
The Headmistress smiled. “A faithful artifact is a wonderful thing for a wizard to have. You are very lucky.”
Stephen blushed. “I'm happy she chose me.”
Her smile widened. “I'm sure you are.”
He cleared his throat. “You said something about a mission?”
The Headmistress sipped her tea before replying. “There's a Muggle-born boy who will be joining us next term. He may be in your House, he may not, but he will need guidance. He is very important - possibly very dangerous - but it's vital he not know of his significance.”
“Ah. And you're choosing me for this since I came from a Muggle household myself.”
“That is one of the reasons.” Her unreadable gaze flowed over his face. “You recall what it was like to be an outsider in our world, and know that it's possible to fit in. And…” She trailed off and looked over at the metal-doored cupboard.
“And?”
Her eyes came back to him. “I believe you'll have… an affinity with the boy.”
Stephen frowned. It was never good when the Headmistress started talking about affinities. She understood magic on a level that very few did, as something more than just a force that could be manipulated. And when she started talking about connections between magical objects or magical people, she was always right, often with dramatic consequences. On the other hand, since she was always right, there was no use fighting it.
Professor Strange sighed. “Okay. Where do I start?”
Chapter 1 - The Boy in the Mirror
Rain fell over a London suburb on a Friday afternoon as a tall, skinny boy with a mass of unruly blond curls walked home from school. He looked to be an ordinary boy, with the blue eyes of a dreamer which would sharpen with intelligence at odd moments. He was eleven years old, and tall for his age. His name was Tom.
The weather was unseasonable for late June, if rain in England could ever be considered unseasonable. School would be over soon and summer vacs were right around the corner. Tom was looking forward to the holiday he’d be taking with his mother and sisters, and not really paying attention to anything around him. Certainly not the tawny owl that followed him a few meters behind.
He turned down a sidestreet and headed for the small house where he lived. He looked up at the sky and the rain spattered his glasses, obscuring the owl as she wheeled overhead. Tom let himself into the house with his latchkey and shut the door in the owl’s face. The tawny owl hooted her displeasure and flew to the window of the snug sitting room where the boy was sitting down to take off his shoes. The owl tapped on the glass with her sharp, hooked beak, but the boy didn’t seem to notice. She shook her feathers, tapped again, then appeared to give up. She slid the letter she'd been carrying into the slot in the front door and flew away.
The boy retreated to his bedroom to work on his homework, completely missing the parchment envelope on the hall floor. It wasn’t until supper several hours later that his Mum found the letter and handed it to him.
“What’s this?” Tom held the weighty envelope up. He had never seen paper like this before. It was heavy and a bit yellow. His name and address were beautifully calligraphed in green ink on the front but there was no stamp or return address. The back was sealed with red wax and a crest.
His mother smiled at him as she sat. “I don’t know, love, but it looks nice.”
“I’ll open it after pudding.” He carefully set it aside. “I don’t want it to get dirty if it’s a card or something posh.”
Mum smiled and ruffled his curls while Emma splashed her milk towards the envelope. Tom shifted it further away from his baby sister’s attempt to mess up his things. Sarah rolled her eyes at the whole proceedings in her teenage way.
“How was school, everyone?”
Mum always asked this. Sarah muttered a disagreeable “Fine” before savagely spearing a carrot with her fork and ignoring everyone else for the rest of the meal.
Emma launched into a long story that involved a pencil case, the second form teacher’s new earrings, and a puppy that someone had smuggled into the school, and of course her own bravery. The tale made absolutely no sense - and was probably more than half pure invention - but it still made Tom laugh.
“And you darling?”
Tom smiled. “It was alright.”
Mum frowned at him. Tom knew she was concerned that he didn’t spend much time with the other boys in his class. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have mates - he did - it’s just that it never felt like he had an awful lot in common with them beyond school and an interest in football. They just didn’t seem to think the same way that he did. Or something. It was hard to put his finger on exactly what it was, but Tom just felt… distant from the rest of the world. He always had.
Once the family was done with supper - and Emma and Sarah had scarpered off to their room - Tom opened his envelope. To his surprise, there wasn’t a card inside, or even a typed up letter from one of his relatives. Instead, there were several sheets of the same heavy, yellowish paper. The ink was green, like on the outside of the envelope, and handwritten rather than printed. There was crest at the top, an H on a quadrant field.
The letter read as follows:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmistress, The Ancient One
(Order of Merlin First Class, Sorcerer Supreme, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Hiddleston,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Nicholas Fury
Deputy Headmaster
Tom read through the letter several times, but it stubbornly refused to make any more sense on subsequent readings. Wordlessly, he handed it to his mother. She read through it as well, and a frown formed on her face.
“What do you think it means?” he asked after she had read through the letter at least twice.
“Either it’s a joke or it’s real. Honestly it could be either.”
Tom’s eyebrows went up. “There are wizards? And witches?”
Mum shrugged. “There have always been stories. Nana used to tell us about her aunt who was supposedly a witch. I always thought those stories might be true.” She leaned over and looked at the pages he still held. “Those certainly look like school supply lists to me.”
“But… I’m, what, a wizard?”
She laughed. “Honestly it wouldn’t surprise me.”
Tom shook his head. “I’m nothing special.”
Mum huffed. “Do you remember when you dressed as a vampire for that fancy dress party and you didn’t have a reflection for two days? Or that time the horse ended up in the front garden when you really wanted a pony?”
Sheepishly, Tom nodded.
“Or when you were very afraid of the dark, but I still insisted on taking away your nightlight, and then none of the lights would turn off in the whole house for a week?” She laughed. “If you’re a wizard, those things make a lot more sense.”
Tom blushed and shuffled his feet. “I suppose.” He looked down at the supply list.
Uniform:
First year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for daily wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragonhide or similar),
One winter cloak (black with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil’s clothes should carry name tags
Required Books:
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Stand Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Anthony Masters
A History of Magic by Umberto Atu
Magical Theory by Jericho Drumm
A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Raven Darkholme
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Theodore Sallis
Magical Drafts and Potions by Calvin Zabo
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Henry Philip McCoy
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Daniel Ketch
Other Equipment:
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set of glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
He looked up again. “This is weird, Mum.”
“I agree, darling, but the world is a huge and mysterious place.”
“But…” Tom began, then stopped. Mum was pretty much always right about these things. “Okay, but it’s still weird.”
She smiled and shrugged. “Sometimes the world can be very strange."
There was a knock at the front door, and they both jumped. It was evening, not especially late, but still an odd time for someone to call. Mum went to the door and opened it. Outside stood a man dressed in a rather nice dark blue suit folding a large black umbrella. He had dark hair with white streaks at the temples and a neatly trimmed goatee.
Tom crowded up behind his mother and looked over her shoulder at the stranger.
“Can I help you?”
“Hi. Ms. Hiddleston? My name is Stephen Strange.” The man had an American accent - which sounded obscurely wrong to Tom, like soft fabric that was brushed the wrong way - a friendly smile, and sharp blue-gray eyes. He held out a hand for Mum to shake. “I believe your son just received a rather odd letter? You’re probably feeling confused right now. I can help.” Something about this stranger made Tom want to trust him immediately, despite the incongruous accent.
“Oh.” Mum shook his hand and looked over her shoulder at Tom, then back at the stranger. “Are you from the school?”
“Yes ma’am, I’m one of the teachers. May I come in?”
“Certainly.” Apparently Mum trusted him too; she stepped aside and let him in. “May I offer you tea?”
“No thank you. I won’t stay long, I just wanted to clarify a few things for you folks.”
Tom’s mother lead the way into their small sitting room and the stranger sat in one of the armchairs. He moved as though he was wearing something long that had to be maneuvered when he sat, though he only had an umbrella against the rain. Tom suspected that his mother didn’t notice, but that was the sort of thing he saw all the time that nobody else commented on.
“So, let me begin by saying congratulations to young Tom here. Hogwarts is the best magical school in the word, and it’s very rare for someone like us to be accepted.”
“Like us?” Tom asked.
“People born of a non-magical family. When I got my letter, my parents were just as confused as you are now, Ms. Hiddleston, possibly more so. That’s part of the reason the Headmistress sent me along.” Professor Strange smiled. “We used to just send out owls to everyone with no explanation, which works fine for most families, but for those of us who’ve never even heard of magic…” he shrugged. “The Headmistress is very willing to take feedback.”
“Well thank you for taking the time to come talk to us.” Mum smiled at the professor. “Can you explain a little more about the school?”
“Hogwarts is an international magic school located in Britain. I’m afraid I can’t tell you exactly where, but it’s out in the countryside. We used to only take students from the UK, and about half the students still are local, but the Headmistress opened it up about fifty years ago. Now we get students from all over the world. It’s a seven-year school, and by the time you graduate, you’ll know everything you need to about being a wizard.”
“So, I’ll learn how to do spells and stuff?” Tom asked.
“Absolutely.” The man smiled at him. “And all about the history of magic, magical creatures, magical society. There’s a whole world hidden below the surface of the one most people see all the time, and it’s all there waiting for you.” His gaze sharpened and he looked between the two of them. “And it is hidden. You can’t tell anyone outside of the household about this. You can’t tell your friends, your neighbors, anyone.”
Tom nodded. That made sense. He wasn’t a good liar, but he could certainly keep a secret. And what a secret. Magic! He grinned. Maybe this was why Tom felt like he never really belonged in this world? He had impossible dreams, dreams of adventure, fantasy, and science fiction. Dreams of strange creatures and people, living lives beyond his comprehension. Dreams where somehow he was these people. Dreams he felt were too true not to be real. He turned to his mother. “I can go, can’t I?”
She smiled down at him. “Of course you can, darling. I’ll figure everything out.” She looked at the list that had come with the letter. “Where do we get these supplies? I can’t exactly step ‘round to Harrods to buy a cauldron, can I?”
“Ah, yes, that was another part of why I’m here. There’s a place in London, Diagon Alley, where most students go to get their supplies. I’d be happy to take you two there when we get closer to term time so that Tom can get his uniform and books and such.”
“Oh that’s very kind of you.”
He bowed his head, hiding a blush. “The Headmistress insisted.”
“Still, it’s very kind of you to take time out of your schedule to help us, no matter what the reason,” Mum continued. “We appreciate it, don’t we love?”
“Yes, thank you very much,” Tom added at her prompting.
“You’re very welcome.” Professor Strange got to his feet and rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. I can take your response back now, since you don’t have an owl, and I’ll be in touch to let you know when we can go shopping for supplies. Unlike most of my colleagues, I know how to use a phone.”
Tom wondered if he meant an actual owl and suppressed a giggle at the idea of someone who didn’t know how to use a phone. They both rose and Mum showed the teacher out. The two of them muttered quietly, just out of Tom’s hearing, then Mum shut the door.
“Well, that was unexpected.”
Tom laughed. “I’m really glad that somebody showed up to explain what was happening. I was pretty confused.”
“Me too, darling. He was very nice.” She laughed. “And here I thought you were going to Eton.”
He giggled. “This sounds a lot more interesting.”
“Yes it does. I wonder if there’s a pamphlet they give out: ‘So Your Child is a Wizard’?”
Tom laughed. “I think he probably would have brought that with him.”
“You’re probably right.” She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “You should head to bed, it’s getting late.”
“Yes Mum.”
Tom had no idea how he’d possibly be able to sleep after all of the excitement, but at least he could get ready for bed. He gave his mother a quick hug and padded upstairs, changed into his pajamas and went to brush his teeth. What would the school be like? Would there be dormitories? Probably. The only reason he got a room to himself now was because he was a boy. His sisters had to share a room, which Sarah hated, but Emma loved. Maybe Emma would get his room while he was away? But sharing with a bunch of other boys wouldn’t be so bad. He spat out a mouthful of foam and glanced up at the mirror.
There were two of him standing by side in the glass.
Tom blinked, and the second reflection was gone. But just for a moment, there had been another boy who looked just like him - or almost the same, it had been too quick to tell - standing next to him. He blinked several times, but the other boy didn’t return. He waved his hand through the space that the other would have been, but there was nothing there.
“Maybe it’s a wizard thing.” He shook his head, rinsed his toothbrush and put it away.
It took a long time for Tom to get to sleep, but when he did, he dreamed of ice.