Chapter Text
September 1st had finally come; Tommy Craft was going to Hogwarts.
Platform 9 ¾ was shrouded in fog and chatter, as young witches and wizards hurried their final goodbyes. Practically bouncing on his toes, Tommy caught sight of the Hogwarts Express in the distance, shining red and black behind the bustling crowds.
Now, Tommy had always known he’d be going to Hogwarts. Or at least, hoped he was. After his brothers had received their matching letters, and Tommy had watched them depart on the very same train with their bags in hand and eager smiles, a seed had been planted in his chest. From Techno’s letters and Wilbur’s photographs that were owled home once a month, Tommy poured over the small remnants of his brothers at Hogwarts, watering the growing desire in his chest.
And today, it was finally his turn to join them. Tommy wrapped his emerald sweater closer around him, taking in the busy scene. Stray trunks laid at people’s feet, while a variety of animal noises could also be heard behind the chorus of voices
While soaking it all in, Tommy couldn’t help but notice the foreign sensation of various eyes burning into his back. Well, maybe that wasn’t completely right. He knew people were staring (had been warned of it, too) but they weren’t staring at him, per say.
Techno and Wilbur Craft were talking between each other, a few steps away from Tommy. Techno’s hands were drawing up his hair into a bun, while Wilbur slapped his thigh and laughed at something he said. The two were seemingly oblivious to the avid gapes that passed by, as hoards of students slowly made their way towards the train.
Of course, Tommy had known his brothers were supposedly something akin to legends at school (Techno didn’t like to mention it very often, Wilbur loved to joke about it every now and then) but it did not prepare him for this level of scrutiny. It’s not like they weren’t known before; being children of Philza Craft, one of the rare muggleborn Slytherin graduates of his time and a well-respected Auror in his own right. But the weight of the Craft name had only grown when young twins Wilbur and Techno arrived at Hogwarts, were sorted into Slytherin, and proceeded to garner a reputation of both mischief and genius. Both clever, gifted, with a determined drive, they had made a name for themselves not only amongst their house, but the school. Now entering their fifth year, even Tommy couldn’t help sometimes but look at his brothers with the same sort of awe that could be seen on the other students around them.
There’s Wilbur, the one with a charming smile and keen eyes. Though he excelled in all his subjects, he was considered by many to be one of the best potion-makers of his age. Hence, the prefect badge glimmering on his black jumper. But don’t be mistaken, that sharp intellect could be found in other aspects too, beyond just schoolwork; Tommy knows for a fact that Wilbur can, and has talked his way out of more than a few sticky situations. His particular way with words typically has that effect on people.
And then there’s Techno, the decidedly more reserved of the two. A brilliant duelist, and the Slytherin Quidditch team’s primary reason for winning the Cup, not once, but twice in the last decade. And don’t be distracted by his long pink locks, often found in some kind of intricate hairdo - Tommy has witnessed firsthand that Techno is not to be reckoned with. Neither of them were; after all, coming after one of the Craft twins means to face the wrath of both.
Looking at the silhouettes of Wilbur and Techno together, lost in their own world while admiring eyes passed by, Tommy felt a swoop of an uncomfortable emotion that he couldn’t quite describe. The station suddenly felt a little too large, too loud. But that was silly - Tommy brushed it off.
Turning his attention back to the bustling crowds, Tommy spotted a few scarves of green and silver. A surge of righteous pride swelled in him. Unlike perhaps some other first years, Tommy had no worries about the Sorting. Slytherin, without a doubt, was going to be his house - he was practically born into it. He was a Craft for God’s sake, son of Philza Craft, younger brother of the Craft twins - how could he not?
(The uncomfortable feeling doubt? squirmed again, somewhere in Tommy’s chest.)
But speak of the devil. A familiar hand landed on Tommy’s head, startling him. “Phil!” He complained, trying to jerk away. He turned to give Phil a glare, but stopped upon seeing the wistful smile on his face. As much as Tommy could pretend otherwise, he was going to miss his father. With a sigh, he dutifully accepted the affectionate ruffling of his blonde curls.
A few minutes passed as Wilbur and Techno finally made their way back, greeting fellow students along the way, those of whom proceeded to prattle enthusiastically to their friends (“Did Wilbur somehow get taller?” “Techno just nodded at me!” “Look! Over there, is that their little brother-”).
A flurry of movement was all around, full of excited whispers for the new school year. Closing his eyes briefly, Tommy let the shared excitement rush through him, breathing in it.
“Enjoying yourself?” Wilbur’s voice broke Tommy out of his stupor. The tall teenager stood in front of him, arms crossed, smirking. Tommy huffed, turning a shade redder.
“You weren’t much different, if I recall.” Techno’s drawl cut in. In one hand, he twirled his wand absentmindedly. In the other, he held a silver cage with an inquisitive tawny owl inside: a birthday gift from two years ago. Athena, Techno had named her. “I haven’t forgotten the time when you nearly fell into the Great Lake in our first year.”
“He did?” Tommy let out an internal snort at that mental image. “Will never told me that.”
Wilbur let out a feigned gasp of hurt, shifting to look at Techno. “From you, Tech? Don’t make me remind you of your first Quidditch game.”
Techno laughed, a wicked glint in his eyes. “The one where I scored five goals to secure our first win of the year?”
“Oh-h-h, I see how it is. If you wanna play that game-” The two dissolved into a bout of good-natured banter.
Laughing, Tommy tried to join in (“remember that one game this summer where Phil and I beat you and Will?”). Neither twin seemed to notice, though: too caught up in recounting memories that Tommy had only heard by mouth or read in passing sentences of old letters.
But that was alright. This will all change once I get to Hogwarts - once I become a Slytherin, too. Then we'll all be together… The thought was enough to appease him, filling Tommy’s chest with anticipation.
“Enough, boys! You all ought to get going now.” Phil chided with a grin. “Take care of Toms, will you?” Phil ruffled Tommy’s hair one more time, much to Tommy’s annoyance (“Ph-i-l, I’m not nine anymore-”).
“We will,” said Techno, the first to give Phil a warm hug. After shuffling slightly with Athena’s cage, Techno made a beeline for the train doors.
Wilbur was next, murmuring assurances of many letters and photos. “Don’t sweat Phil, we already taught him the best routes for sneaking out of the dorms at night - kidding, kidding!” And he too, was off in a span of a breath, ducking to avoid Phil’s playful cuff.
Tommy was last, dropping his hand-me-down trunk (Techno’s name had been scratched out with marker) to grip Phil’s jacket extra tight. As if he could sense Tommy’s nerves, Phil pulled back to look into his eyes.
“Whatever worries you have Tommy, I promise you’ll be fine. I know Wilbur and Techno might seem a bit-” Phil paused to search for the right word. “-busy, but I know they will be right there for you if you need it. And so will I.” At Phil’s reassuring smile, Tommy gave a shaky one back and nodded.
“Me, worrying? I don’t know what you mean, big man.” He quipped. Phil chuckled.
“Whatever you say Toms - don’t miss the train now!” Phil gestured behind Tommy, towards the moving figures of Techno and Wilbur.
With one more embrace, Tommy hurried to catch up with his brothers, who were already walking up the train steps.
As the three brothers boarded the train, Tommy turned around one last time. He tried to memorize the exact way the light fell through the fog covering the station, the precise feeling of his trunk handle through his fingers. Phil caught his eye, and gave him a wave. He waved back.
Here goes nothing. Tommy stepped onto the Hogwarts Express.