Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The heavy rain brought a richness to each hue, the browns deepened in a way that soothed even the coldest of hearts. The grass became glossy, reflecting the dim starlight and softly waving in the breeze. A cloaked figure cautiously strolled through the desolated British streets, the all too familiar maze of red-brick city houses bringing oddly soothing relief to their soul.

Don't get the wrong idea, Phil Watson had always loved the idea of being a father, but sometimes it was... well it was challenging. It had been only four years since the man had adopted his first son, merlin the time sped by way too quick; he loved him with every last inch of his being. And then, of course, a year later, he'd found his second son in an orphanage, having been thrown around a variety of different foster families like some sort of possession for the entirety of his short life.

The three got by surprisingly well.

Unfortunately, however, Phil knew that they weren't exactly an ordinary family. There were secrets the boys would never be allowed to tell anybody, no matter the circumstances. Like how their dad was a wizard who had connections to an entirely new world of messed up politics, spells, and people. Philza never quite knew how to tell the pair, so obviously he let the boys find out by themselves, by giving them a sort of puzzle to figure out until they would inevitably be met with a certain letter by their eleventh birthday.

For example, his eldest (Techno) was born with a head of vibrant coral hair – a metamorphmagus, meaning that he could change his appearance at will, which was extremely rare for a wizard. But, as with everything, there was a darker side to the gift,

Like how the majority of the time, his looks were entirely dependant on what he was feeling, notably his hair – when it was a vibrant rose he was feeling thrilled or content, pastel; calm, with a blue tint; upset, lilac; angry, so on and so on. Another odd side effect was that tusks had started growing in at the boys third birthday. All of this meant that Phil had had to perfect almost every illusion charm in the books in as little as a month, so when Wilbur had to talk about his brothers looks he usually got some rather odd looks when he described an entirely different person than who everyone else was seeing.

Whilst Will... well Will was certainly something. He had an odd charisma for a boy so young, like he was constantly adapting to the situation to make you as comfortable as possible. Until he was upset, of course.

Phil woke with a startled jump, quickly sitting up with a grunt (wow that rhymed.)

“Give it back!”

He quickly sat up at the all too familiar shrieking from his sons, before stumbling out of bed and half-heartedly rushing down the stairs whilst squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them wide in an attempt to stay awake.

“Hey, hey, guys!” He turned the corner, flinching at the loud protests of Techno as Wilbur struggled against his firm grip on their favourite toy. “Will, don’t snatch things.”

"But... But Tech said that he'd let me play after," Wilbur huffed, the five-year-old looking an unfortunate mix between constipated and upset. The older boy only shook his head, looking intensely at the floor. To be honest, it surprised Phil just how lawful children could be when it came to agreements sometimes.

Phil sighed, threading a hand through Techno's hair, an odd pride fuelling his heart when the boy leant into the touch. "Hey Bud," he spoke softly. "You know that if you make a promise you gotta keep it, right?"

Techno's stature deflated, him looking at his brother with tired eyes. "I didn't promise anything."

"You did!"

Phil's eyes widened. "Hey, hey, hey," he shushed, "there's no need to shout."

"But he said he was gonna give it back... and now he's being mean– he's being a meanie bum!" Wilbur cried.

"Tech, did you promise?"

"Nope," the boy popped his P.

"Be honest."

"I never, swear on my life."

Phil gave an awkward smile. His friends from the wizarding world had told him so so many horror stories about how they were tricked into making unbreakable vows as children, obviously unaware of the consequences; which were, unsurprisingly, instant death. "Let's not swear on things that important in the future, okay?" He chuckled. Welp, it was best to teach them early.

"He's lying!" Wilbur declared with a shout.

"Am not."

"Are!"

Phil tilted his head, lips pressed together in a tight line. He clearly wasn't gonna be able to diffuse the situation with adult logic, unfortunately. He knew he shouldn't have left Will alone with muggle reality shows, they’d turned the boy into quite the drama queen. "Boys, calm down," he said slowly, turning to Will. "You sure Tech made that promise?"

He nodded quickly.

"Okay then," Phil tapped a tune into the wooden floor he was knelt on – merlins bollocks his knees were in pain. "Techno, is it okay if you let Will play with the toy for a little bit? And then you can have it back when he's done."

Techno seemed to be in thought for a minute, glaring daggers at his brother. “Fine,” he mumbled, slowly pushing the toy towards Will, who grinned in anticipation, before taking it and holding it close to his heart.

“See!” Phil clapped his hands, shakily standing from his position on the floor. “And that’s how you sort out problems like an adult.” He laughed, ruffling both of their heads.

If only it was still as easy to diffuse problems so simply.

“Phil, the orphan’s looking at me weird,” Techno grunted, the now thirteen-year-old picking at his food.

Tommy scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Dad, he’s bullshitting.”

The eldest shot a narrow glare at the blond. “Try me.”

Phil sighed, raising a brow at the pairs usual interaction. Why couldn’t they just get along? The lamplight shone through the kitchen window, pooling atop the mahogany table as though it was lush honey. The family of four sat around it, eating their tea with the usual banter. Yup, now there were four of them. Phil had adopted Tommy when the elder two were only six, after the small boy had been dropped off outside of Phil’s door with nothing but an embroidered cotton blanket with his name written into it – and that’s how he became Tommy Watson.

But Phil still hadn’t exactly told him about... y’know.

As far as he was concerned, his brothers went to a rich people boarding school each year. Nothing less and nothing more. It made sense, kinda. Sure, Phil didn't have the highest paying job – he'd told Tommy that he drove people around in taxi's for a living – but maybe his elder brothers education was somehow funded by someone or something else?

To be completely honest, Tommy hadn't really paid much attention to that type of stuff. It wasn't like he minded the whole only seeing them on special occasions thing, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. To be frank, he missed the fuckers. He'd find himself daydreaming about the times when the entire family was constantly under one roof, and he craved for that yet again. He wanted to spend more time with his brothers without it being a one-off thing only for them to leave for another three or four months.

But obviously that wasn't gonna change any time soon.

In the UK, it was part of the school year to have six weeks of freedom during the summer; which usually was a gap between being in two different year groups. In Tommy's opinion, it was great! The sun shone brightly across the usually dim, soul-sucking country, there were happy screams from children all across the towns and cities, the entire family would often get together to sunbathe (or burn) and for every pebble, there were ten ice cream trucks.

There was one time where Phil had packed the three boys up into the shared family car and taken them to the beach as a surprise, and holy mother of Jesus was it one of the best memories Tommy had. If he was in that one movie about the emotions and stuff, that would've been one of his core memories. Sure, maybe Will had come home practically sizzling from sunburn, his body painfully rose in colour... it was also entirely possible that the family had somehow lost one of the three rucksacks they’d taken with them, along with Techno’s flip flops, much to the boy's dismay, ending in him aggressively sprinted up the scorching pebble path up the car park as the rest laughed at the quiet cursing – that was the best bit about Phil, he had a switch between being your friend and your carer, it was great. Like when after the four had finally made it into the sweltering car that had been baking in the sun all day, he’d promised to get them ice cream, and that he did. Gosh, Tommy love the fuckers way more than he’d like to admit, but holy shit he did not know how to show it.

"So how've things been at the posh twat school?" Tommy asked with a mouthful of pasta.

"Not gonna lie, not too much has happened," Wilbur said, leaning limply against the wooden table.

"It's better that than too much drama," Phil claimed with a small chuckle.

The conversation from there on developed considerably well, with barely any bickering from the boys. Phil, being an only child, never quite understood why siblings hated each other so dearly, it make no sense; he’d give anything to have had company as a child... okay he takes that back, he’s seen the harsh screaming matches the three get into when they’re bored, he knew he’d probably just cry or something if he had to defend himself in one of those.

"We're wizards, Tommy." No better time than now, right?

The blond snorted but soon paused at the ominously serious looks on his families faces. He raised a brow, a small smirk pulling at his lips. "Look, if you assholes think you can try pull an April fool on me like three months late you can suck it."

Phil gave Will and Techno a look, a look that they somehow both knew how to decipher.

Will sighed, recognising his responsibility as the blonds older brother. "Tommy... I know this could be a lot to take in, so trust me when I say it's completely normal to panic or think you're going insane or whatever, but we aren't pranking you," he said with an alarmingly mushy tone.

Tommy slouched, nose crinkled. "So you're telling me that all three of you are wizards. What next? That goblins are real?" He guessed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"They are," Phil said.

There was a tense silence.

"Are you guys okay? Like are you mentally okay? You're acting weird and I don't like it." Tommy leant forward, placing his fork on the table, brows raised in what seemed to be a mix of concern and confusion.

Phil gave him a small smile. "We're completely okay Toms, and there aren't any pranks happening, nothing like that."

"But you're not actually wizards, wizards aren't real,” he said.

"Offence taken," Techno grunted.

Phil sighed, moving to take a small stained envelope from his pocket, an emblem stamped in the bottom corner in maroon ink. He slid it across the table to Tommy.

The blond looked at it for a moment. "What's this? Is this part of the prank?" He asked with a heavy frown.

"Just open it dickhead," Wilbur said with a huff.

Tommy rolled his eyes before taking the letter, it felt cold in his hands, and somehow the paper was already worn out. He ripped the top almost effortlessly, consciously avoiding the fiery wax seal. He felt the three's eyes on him the same way vultures would stalk their prey. They were acting so... weird. The same way a young girl would if her friend was threatening to tell everybody who her crush was.

The pulled at the paper, unfolding it ready to read.

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚜,

𝚆𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝙷𝚘𝚐𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝙾𝚏 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚛𝚢. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚙𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝟷 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝚎 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚕 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝟹𝟷 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢.

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢,
𝙷𝚘𝚐𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜~.

"What is this?" He looked up at his father.

"It's a letter to a school, obviously you don't have to go–"

"I wanna go,” he interrupted, looking oddly content.

"That's fantastic!"

He gave a smug smile, before pushing the letter onto the mahogany table. "But if this is just an excuse to try and convince me to go to the same boring old posh twat school as Wilbur and Techno, you can politely fuck off."

Techno raised a brow. "You're kidding," he said dryly. "Where d'you think me and Will've been going for the past two years?"

Tommy blinked. "Wait, wait, wait, so you guys are not only wizards but also have been attending a school that could have also been known as pigblemishes for two years now?”

"If you put it like that it does sound kinda crazy," Will admitted.

"Kinda."

Phil gave a weak chuckle, caressing the back of his neck. "So are you starting to believe us about the wizarding thing?" he asked, practically praying.

Tommy leant back in his chair. "Kinda, kinda not," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want proof."

"Of what?"

"You doing magic-y things," the boy shrugged. His brothers looked to Phil, who had quickly stood and made his way to the kitchen drawer. Tommy felt the all too familiar pride welling in his chest, there was no way they could carry on the joke now. He'd just singlehandedly won the war.

Phil rushed back to the table, gripping a stick in his hand. Tommy looked to it with a fixed-gaze. It was certainly pretty. It was like a stick... but better. For example, an ordinary stick found on the forest floor would be like an ALDI stick, Phil's stick was a Waitrose stick... if that makes sense.

It was thoroughly smooth, with barely any rigid lumps or bumps. And the half that Phil held was slightly higher than the rest, with a bright polish that faded out with the onyx tint that seemed almost like it’s handle; it looked so gracious... yet at the same time so, so fucking stupid.

"Techno, you mind if I remove the thing?" Phil asked his eldest son, who only shrugged, obviously not caring about whatever the thing was.

"Go ahead, he's my brother he would've found out eventually anyway," the brunet acknowledged.

What were they on about...?

"Tommy, don't freak out too much when I do this, okay?" Phil spoke calmly, holding the Waitrose stick. Tommy gave a slow nod, brows raised. What was he gonna do? Pull a rabbit out of his pants or some shit?

The man raised the stick in Techno's direction, who seemed surprisingly calm. "Removera falsa!"

There was a heavy silence.

Tommy was slack-jawed. "Holy..." He said breathlessly, hand gripping the table. He seemed frozen, yet he knew that wasn't because of Phil's funky word thing. He knew what it had done to his brother, and he had no clue why Will wasn't acting half as surprised.

The boy that was earlier blessed with fluffy chestnut locks, somewhat similar to Wilbur's own, now had a full head of pastel pink hair that fell from the lazy bun it'd been forced into, framing his face. But that wasn't the scary bit. There were tusks. His brother had tusks, tusks that sprouted uncomfortably from the lower third of his face, one on each side of his mouth – what even was he...?

Techno frowned. "You look like you just saw a ghost," he mumbled.

Tommy didn't reply. So not only had he just been treated to a lovely talk from his clearly insane family, found himself a position at pigblemishes school of witchcraft and wizardry or whatever it was called, and now had his dad turn his eldest brother into some sort of monster; whilst confirming that yes, magic actually was apparently very much real.

"What did you do to him...?" Tommy turned to Phil with wide eyes.

"I never did anything," Phil assured. "This is how Techno actually looks, but because we live in a muggle society it's best to be extra careful and use an illusion charm to make sure nobody notices the tusks and stuff. I only really removed the charm–"

"What's a muggle?"

"Non-magical folk."

"How did you do that?"

"I learnt at Hogwarts," Phil chuckled.

"I wanna do that."

Techno snorted. "What? Turn people into monsters?" He laughed. "You looked terrified."

Tommy looked down, a hand moving to caress his neck. "In my defence, I didn't really expect this stuff to be real..." He admitted. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Nah, nah, don't worry about it, it's understandable."

"I still feel like a dick."

"The fucker's a.... an uh- a what again sorry?" Wilbur frowned, head cocked to the side. "I was gonna say metahuman but it doesn't sound right."

"Metamorphmagus,” Phil supplied.

"That one."

"Cool...” Tommy breathed in awe.

Phil sat back down again, rolling his wand onto the table with a small rattle. He turned to Tommy. "So... d'you finally believe in magic?"

The boy in question quickly gave a nod. "Of course," he asserted, before frowning. “Wait... is this even real? Have I like... like I dunno, been drugged or something?” He panicked. “Did you pull out my wisdom teeth without my consent or something? Am I high? I could get you sued for that! Did you force feed me happy gas–”

“Of course not, all of this is real,” Phil chuckled, ruffling his hair in an attempt to calm the boy. “Would you like to spend the next year of school at Hogwarts?"

Tommy thought for a moment. He had so much going for him here, would attending Hogwarts mean he'd have to dorm? How often would he see Phil? Was he also a wizard or whatever? Did he have to do dangerous magic rituals? What if he didn't actually get in? What if he accidentally killed himself with magic and stuff? What if–

"Maybe," he settled grudgingly.

"It's completely your choice what you do," Phil assured.

"Thank you," he mumbled, looking to the floor – when in doubt, mumble.

“Well then,” Phil clapped, solidifying all of their attention. “If we’ve all finished eating, then I give you permission to go and do whatever you want,” he said, before turning to Tommy. “And if you have any questions about the whole thing, don’t hesitate to ask us, okay?”

Tommy hummed, swiftly moving to dump his bowl in the sink, before rushing up the stairs. When he made it to his room, however, all of the questions piped up yet again. He groaned into his hands, before limply falling onto his bed, it bouncing slightly at the contact.

Well now what?

•-•-•-•-•-•

As time flew by, Phil didn’t quite grasp how long he’d been sat at the mahogany table, rethinking his choice. What if it was a bad idea? Maybe it would have been best for Tommy if he’d just hidden the letter for longer (not like Hogwarts wouldn’t send out an exceptional personal messenger, they were quite extra like that.) He sighed, burrowing his face into his arm, resisting the alarming urge to dropkick the obnoxiously loud clock stood tall behind the chair he sat at.

The clock was an antique, that old deep wood and classic curvy shape. It more hugged the old mantle than simply sat there. It was a thing of beauty that would last. It had soul. It also had an annoying clicking sound that never quite knew when to stop and unsurprisingly accounted for the majority of Phil’s annoyance the majority of the time. Never get an antique clock. Trust me. You’ll regret it. You can’t even take out the batteries. You just suffer. Don’t.

It read three o’clock (not in the afternoon) as the man stared at the parchment of questions. He frowned at them for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the hour, how was he meant to answer these?

𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓?

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒚?

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆.

He curled the top of his quill across his finger, biting his lip in concentration. How exactly was he supposed to even answer these? He’d never taught a lesson in his life, it wasn’t exactly like he could just–

Phil quickly looked up as a pair of light footsteps neared the kitchen, instantly moving the fairly blank parchment under the pile of magazines.

"Hey Tommy," he spoke softly, making sure not to wake his eldest two, the walls being annoyingly thin. “What's up bud?"

The boy took a deep breath, his bright azure eyes somehow shone brightly in the darkness. He hesitated for a moment, fists clenched on each side.

"I'd like to attend Hogwarts this year."