Chapter Text
Jayce Talis had been eagerly awaiting his Hogwarts letter since he and his mother had been saved from near death by a wizard. He had only been 6, and he was well aware of magic - both his mother and father had gone to Hogwarts, and magic was a part of his daily life. Mundane magic, that is. Cleaning charms, small transfigurations, fun lights on the doorstep for the holidays. The magic the wizard used to save his mother and he, though, was something altogether different and incredible.
They had been stuck in a particularly bad blizzard. His father had recently passed away, and it had just been the two of them for only a few weeks at that point. They were trying to get home from the funeral when the storm had taken upon them with no warning. Any magic his mother was able to perform was unable to help, the simple warming charms she cast only lasting moments before they puffed out of existence. Then his mother had collapsed, frozen and numb, and little Jayce thought they were going to die. For a moment, he even considered it might be the best case scenario - his father was gone, it seemed his mother was on the way. Who else did he have in the world?
That’s when the wizard had shown up. Jayce knew he was a wizard because of the elaborate robes he wore - muggles never wore the sort. He knew because he had grown up around them, despite being from a family of all wizards and witches. His family had never been able to quite afford the price of the elite wizarding communities, but at the time, Jayce just thought that was how everyone lived.
The wizard had approached him and his mother and begun casting an elaborate spell, the likes of which Jayce had never seen. The even more fantastical part of it was that he wasn’t using a wand to do it - something Jayce didn’t know was possible. When the wizard finished casting, the tundra around them had transformed into a lush spring meadow; there were flowers everywhere, the sounds of birds chirping, and his mother, alive and breathing.
The wizard had approached him then, his face still obscured by the hood he wore, and dropped a small pendant into Jayce’s hands. It was silver and made up of a few simple swirls that together almost looked like a flame. Before Jayce could ask anything else, like who the wizard was, how he had performed that magic, or what this pendant was, he was gone. But Jayce had seen enough.
When Jayce received his Hogwarts letter on his eleventh birthday, he was thrilled to go and start learning magic. Not everyday magic, like washing the dishes or summoning cakes, but incredible magic. Magic that was powerful enough to transform the world around him, magic that could save lives. Jayce Talis was not going to be an ordinary wizard - he was going to be the best there had ever been.
**
Diagon Alley was as wonderful as he had imagined, full of glowing, crowded shops and the streets bustling with flocks of wizards and witches and various other creatures alike. Here, he didn’t have to hide the fact he knew about magic, that he could perform magic, from anyone at all, and that was a magical experience in and of itself.
He and his mother stopped by a plethora of shops, from potions stores to clothing fitting rooms. What he was most excited for, though, was to get his wand, so when they reached Ollivander’s, he nearly started jumping for joy. His mother had to put her hands on his shoulder to calm him down, because he was literally bouncing back and forth on his feet, and the boxes that piled along the walls looked ready to topple to the floor at any moment.
The first few wands Jayce tried led to various disasters, the worst being a large explosion that rattled through the entire shop, nearly knocking Mr. Ollivander to the ground. Jayce apologized profusely, but Mr. Ollivander simply shook his head, said he’d seen worse, and then tidied the shop with a simple wave of his own wand.
Eventually, he paused by a rather dusty stack near the back, piles of wands that looked like they hadn’t been touched in ages, except for a single empty spot near the top, a line clearly drawn in the dust. “I wonder,” Ollivander murmured under his breath, and fidgeted with his fingers for a moment before extracting the box second from the top, shuffling over and presenting it to Jayce, who eagerly picked it up.
“Walnut wood, 13 ½ inches, supple flexibility.” Jayce turned it over in his hands, examining it. It was a beautiful light golden brown, smooth and straight except for a ridge ¾ of the way down that created the illusion of a handle that fit his thumb perfectly. “Dragon heartstring core,” Ollivander finished, and Jayce gave the wand a wave; the effect was almost instantaneous. A bright blue light burst from the tip of the wand, careening upwards until it hit the ceiling. For a moment, Jayce feared he was going to destroy the shop again . But then the light exploded, and instead of unleashing devastating force, left behind what looked like a floating galaxy, pinpricks of focused light like planets swirling around through a misty sky. The wand itself felt warm in Jayce’s hand, almost like someone was holding his hand instead of a wand, and a soft buzz ran through his entire body. Then the galaxy above them gave a great swirl before careening back down again, as though it was being sucked back into the wand, disappearing. It left behind a slight yellow glow surrounding Jayce and made his hair tickle a bit, a warm feeling rising in his chest. He looked up at Ollivander expectantly, who shook his head in disbelief.
“Curious. Most curious.” Jayce looked at him concerned. Was that bad? “That was an incredible match if I’ve ever seen one. Explosive, mind you, but a match all the same. I dare say we can expect great things from you, Mr. Talis.” Jayce beamed, the praise ringing in his ears as he examined his new wand. His wand. That he was going to do great things with.
“Do you know what heartstrings are, my boy?” Jayce looked up to see Ollivander still looking at him fixedly. He nodded.
“They’re cords of tissue that lie inside the heart, right?” Ollivander nodded.
“Dragon heartstring is a fairly common wand core. Each dragon heart can give many, and it finds its match in plenty of passionate wizards. This dragon, though,” he gestured at Jayce’s wand, “gave only one, because strangely, it only had one. It was so long, though, that it was split into two, and now resides forever in two wands.” Ollivander gestured over at the dusty pile where it had been laying. “I made those two wands nearly half a century ago, and they’ve both been sitting on that shelf ever since. Until today.” Jayce looked at him quizzically.
“Someone else got the other one? Today?” Ollivander nodded. “Who?” His face clouded for a moment, as if struggling to recall something.
“You know, I’m not sure he gave me his name. Funny little lad, didn’t talk much. Strange accent, was using a cane. Looked about your age.”
“Oh, cool,” was all Jayce could reply, unsure of what it meant. Ollivander shook his head like he was clearing out cobwebs, before smiling again.
“I look forward to seeing what you do with that wand, young man.”
**
Jayce’s mother looked fearful - he had rarely seen this emotion on his mother - the only other time being when they had been caught in the snowstorm so many years ago, and she had seen him begin to freeze as well. She had been sad when his father had passed, but fear , that he had only seen once before.
“Are you alright Mama?” he asked as she fussed over his jacket, making sure his suitcase had been properly hoisted onto the train, the small fluffy owl he had gotten in Diagon Alley with it. She sniffled a bit before composing herself, fluffing Jayce’s hair before leaning down to hug him, grip unyielding.
“Just so proud of you, mijo . So sad you have to go. But so proud.” Jayce could feel a bit of the reality of leaving his mother for a full year sinking in as well. He had never been away from her for longer than a week.
“I can always stay for a bit longer,” he heard himself saying, even though he had been waiting to go to Hogwarts for what felt like an eternity. He would do anything for his mother. She laughed before kissing him on the forehead, pulling back to take in his face, and the fear on her face had been replaced by pride.
“No. You have so much ahead of you, there is no reason to wait any longer.” She stood up before beginning to frantically gesture towards the train. “Now don’t be late!” Any thoughts of nervousness disappeared from his mind as he bounded towards the train, replaced by bubbling excitement. He turned back once he stepped onto the stairs, looking back at his mother. She was waving, and yelling something that sounded like ‘ write often! ’ but the train whistle was blowing and Jayce took the last few steps to board the train, quickly running to an empty compartment to wave out the window back. Eventually, both his mother and the station faded to a pinprick in the distance before disappearing completely, and Jayce fell back on the sofa seat behind him, sighing deeply. He felt in his pocket for where his new wand lay, waiting eagerly to perform all sorts of magical feats, and then his hand trailed up to the silver pendant he always wore on a chain around his neck, a promise of things to come. Slowly, he felt himself drift off into deep slumber, adrenaline crash finally catching up with him, the lull of the train movement rocking him into oblivion.
**
“Excuse me? Are you going to get dressed?” Jayce bolted upright from where he’d been drooling on the train seat he’d fallen asleep on to see a girl standing in the doorway to his compartment. She looked about his age and was already wearing her Hogwarts robes, hair pulled back into a neat bun, beautiful dark eyes, a few adornments of golden jewelry around her neck and wrists. Jayce was pretty sure she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and found himself staring dumbly at her, mouth agape.
“Hello?” The girl asked, waving her hand in front of his face, like she wasn’t sure he was truly awake. “We’re almost to the castle, and we’re supposed to get dressed before we get there.” She gestured at her own clothes. “I was going back to my compartment when I saw you. Thought you should probably be woken up.” Jayce nodded, trying to clear the sleepiness out of his brain.
“Oh! Thank you!” He stood up and went to shake her hand eagerly, at which she initially looked taken aback, but then returned, smiling politely. “I’m Jayce,” he beamed. “I’m a first year. Are you too?” The girl nodded.
“I’m Mel. Nice to meet you, Jayce.” He continued to smile happily at her until she cleared her throat and he realized he still had a vice grip on her hand, quickly letting go.
“Sorry!” He blurted, face flushing as he wobbled a bit as the train took a particularly fast turn. The girl - Mel - just shook her head somewhat fondly and stepped back out of the compartment.
“I’ll see you at school, I’m sure,” she said, and then she was walking back down the hallway. Jayce stared after her for a moment, at which she turned around, like she sensed his gaze.
“Get dressed, remember?” Jayce felt his face go even redder with embarrassment.
“Yes!” He said, frantically dashing back to his bag before he could embarrass himself any further, tossing on his own robes. The train then decided to come to a screeching halt, and after he recovered his footing, he dashed out into the hall and then off of the train, the air slightly brisk but full of chatter as students bustled about eagerly. He looked around to see if he could see Mel anywhere, but the platform was far too packed, so he settled in as the gamekeeper took them to the boats that they sailed across on to the school.
It was a magnificent sight. Even if Jayce had no idea magic existed, seeing this surely would have convinced him. The windows were lit up brightly, scaling turrets and lining classroom walls. It was a grand castle like the stories of old, and Jayce couldn’t believe he was actually here. Eventually they ascended up through the dungeons, coming to the large doors that separated them from the great hall. A woman who introduced herself as “Professor Kiramman, Deputy Headmistress and charms professor,” walked them through what would happen, but Jayce was too busy darting his eyes around at the other students that surrounded him, taking in the people who would be his classmates, and potentially, new friends. Jayce had always had a lot of friends back at his muggle school, and he was going to miss them dearly. Before he knew it, though, they were all being shuffled forward, and the doors in front of them opened.
Jayce couldn’t keep his mouth closed as he stared around in awe. The ceiling was charmed to look like a night sky, and he couldn’t help but feel it looked close to what had happened when he’d matched with his wand. Candles floated about, burning bright, and illuminating the honey wood tables full of students watching them come in. Some were curious, some seemed utterly bored out of their minds, and the table at the head of the room was packed with professors, some extravagantly dressed, some wearing only simple black robes like Jayce’s own.
Jayce watched as student by student went up to the crumpled hat in front of them and received their house. He recognized a few from the train platform, and about halfway through Mel went up to the stage, sitting properly on the stool before the hat was placed on her head. It sat there thoughtfully for a second, and then was proudly shouting out “Slytherin!” and a roar of cheers came from the right side of the room. As Mel stepped down, she glanced back briefly at the professor’s table, where a large and intimidating woman that looked slightly like her nodded curtly, a small smile of what was close to pride on her face for a moment. Mel took her seat.
Finally, they reached the T’s and Jayce heard his name being called. He hurried up to the stool, eagerly sitting himself down. He had an entire speech prepared in his head to tell the hat, about his interests and his goals, genuinely wanting its opinion on where he belonged. His mother had been a Hufflepuff and his father had been a Gryffindor, but honestly any house was amenable. Now that he knew Mel was in Slytherin, he almost felt a little tempted to ask for it, as he already felt like she was something close to a friend. But before he could even get a word in with the hat, the doors at the end of the hall were bursting open again, and a small stout man Jayce recognized to be the headmaster was bustling in through the doors, a skinny boy behind him looking slightly abashed at his dramatic entrance.
For a brief moment, Jayce felt a slight tick of annoyance at the interruption during what was such a pivotal moment for him, but then he registered two things at once. One, his earlier statement about thinking Mel was the most beautiful person he had ever seen had to be amended; she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, because this was the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. His face glowed a sort of soft pink, and his hair flopped over his forehead slightly, with a pensive, kind, and curious look on his face. Two, the boy was using a cane to walk, and that set off a bell in the back of his head, Ollivander’s words echoing in his ears. ‘Funny little lad, didn’t talk much. Strange accent, was using a cane. Looked about your age.’ Jayce had seen muggles using canes and other sorts of similar devices, but never anyone in the magical world. Most things that made people need a cane could be healed with magic. It left only one rational explanation: this had to be him. The boy who had the other half of his dragon heartstring at the core of his wand.
“Interesting,” Jayce heard the hat mutter in his head, and Jayce shocked himself back to the reality that he was being sorted, and this was one of the most important moments of his life, but then the hat was yelling “ Ravenclaw! ” and Professor Kiramman was lifting it off his head, shuffling him off towards the table that was clapping and cheering as he came over. The whole time he walked over, he kept his eyes on the boy who settled at the back of the crowd of remaining first-years waiting to be sorted, but then the other Ravenclaws were patting him on the back and welcoming him to the table, and a sense of belonging began to settle in his chest.
The rest of the first years were sorted into their houses until the boy with his wand core was the only one left standing. The headmaster went up to the Deputy Headmistress, where she leaned down so he could whisper in his ear, at which she nodded, placing the list she had been reading off of on the ground. He must not be on it, Jayce realized.
“Viktor,” the professor called out, the lack of last name throwing him for a loop, and then the boy - Viktor - slowly hoisted himself up to the stage and onto the stool, something that looked a bit difficult for him physically, but he gave no outward sign of distress or need for help. As Professor Kiramman set the hat on Viktor’s head, Jayce felt himself sitting up straighter, peering over the shoulders of his taller peers, incredibly enraptured by where he would be sorted. The hat only paused for a moment before it seemed satisfied, and a small smile showed up on the boy's face, like the hat had told him something encouraging. Then it was yelling “ Ravenclaw !” and the sorting was done. Instead of heading to the table, though, Viktor simply walked over to the edge of the professors table, where he began to talk with the headmaster, and then food was appearing on the table in front of him, and Jayce found himself entirely occupied by his growling stomach. It wasn’t until he finally finished the treacle tart dessert that he looked up and realized the boy was gone, not at the table or with the headmaster. Instead, his eyes found Mel across the room, who he smiled and waved at happily, and to his delight, Mel smiled and waved back.
It wasn’t until the prefects had led them back to their dormitory and the other boys had settled down to sleep that the overwhelming crash of sadness descended upon Jayce, and he found himself starting to cry. He felt stupid for it, but there was something about being somewhere so different and without his mother that made it feel like his lungs were being crushed, and he buried his face in his pillow before deciding to take a walk. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be out of bed after hours, but there was still an empty bed next to his that he was sure belonged to Viktor, so he had to be out and about too, right? Surely that meant it was okay in some way.
He wasn’t wandering for long, twirling his necklace in his fingers from where he’d undone it at his neck, before he stumbled upon the stairs to the astronomy tower, and began to take the steps two at a time. The view as he reached the top was breathtaking. Here, there were no lights of the city, and the stars were more visible than he had ever seen them, painting a picture that for the second time that day, reminded him of the spell he’d cast with his wand when he’d been matched to it. He sat down, breathing in the cool air, and then began to profusely cry again. The hurt of being lonely and away from home was overwhelming, and he wished his mother was here so he could curl up in her lap. She would tell him everything was okay and make him a cup of warm milk and honey, and then stroke his hair until he fell asleep, just like she always did. Instead, he was on top of a tower, so very far away and lonely. His tears started flowing harder, and his sobs almost obscured the sound of footsteps behind him. It wasn’t until someone intentionally cleared their throat that he turned around.
Standing there in the moonlight, looking even more pretty than before, and holding Jayce’s pendant in an outstretched hand, was the new Ravenclaw boy - Viktor.
“Excuse me,” he said, voice almost indecipherable through his accent. “You dropped this. Are you alright?”
--
Viktor never received a Hogwarts letter. Growing up in a family of muggles in Czechia, he didn’t even know magic existed, let alone that there was a school of magic called Hogwarts in Scotland, a country he had never been to nor heard of. Instead, Hogwarts found Viktor rather by accident.
He had just turned eleven when his parents died. They had both worked in the mines, and there had been a cave-in that took out nearly 20 people. The town summoned together what resources they could to host a mass funeral, and then the newly orphaned children were gathered up and taken to the communal living space for orphans and transients like themselves. There wasn’t much organization to it, or real oversight, with most of its residents having to fend for themselves food wise. But there was a roof over their heads, occasionally a mattress and blanket below them, and walls that shielded the worst of the wind. It was better than nothing. Or at least, that’s what Viktor tried to tell himself, but he found it became harder and harder to believe it by the day.
His parents had always been busy, barely around, and he had always known one day they would be gone. Such was the reality of the world, and the reality of his world was that they would likely be gone sooner rather than later. Still, no eleven year old is ever ready to hear that their parents are dead. Especially for a loner like Viktor, who had no other family or friends, and the only people in town who recognized him still called him Visenya. He had thought he’d been lonely before, but now, lying on the dirty floor of the halfway house, he realized he had never known what true loneliness was until this very moment. So he packed a small bag with his few clothes, knick knacks he liked to collect, a bit of food he could scavenge, and he set out early one morning with the intent of never looking back. No one made a move to stop him - not because they were cruel hearted, but because there was no sense in trying to keep around another mouth to feed, especially one with a bad leg like him - he would be a poor investment of resources, unlikely to live long anyways. They already had many that they loved to take care of - they didn’t know Viktor, and they never would.
He made it to the next town in less than half a day, which he was proud of, but nowhere would take him in. All inns required money, something he was dearly lacking, and the fact that he was a frail and starving child did not sway their hearts, or more importantly, their pockets. Instead, he holed himself up in an alley, putting on the rest of the clothes he had to keep him warm and propping his cane up against the wall. His leg was screaming at him from walking all day, and for the first time since his parents died, he allowed himself to cry. First it was gentle, but then it was sobs that were wracking through his body, and no amount of clothes could protect him from the cold that was rushing through him from the inside out.
His family was gone. He was alone. He barely had any food, and he had no money. He was not someone who gave up easily - his parents had always called him an old soul. So ‘ mature for his age .’ Sometimes, he thought that was a bit unfair. It meant he always had to act more mature than a child, and right now, he was just that - a scared, lonely child with nothing left in the world.
It was then that two men rounded the corner of the alley, one short and stout, the other extremely tall and thin. It was dark, so he couldn’t make out their faces, but he knew it was never good to be cornered in an alley. He quickly rose to his feet and grabbed his cane, beginning to wave it at the two of them in front of him.
“ Stay back! ” He yelled, at which the two men stopped, beginning to rapidly fire words at him he didn’t understand. Viktor took several steps backwards before waving his cane at them again, but then his leg was giving out from underneath him, and he toppled to the ground, landing painfully on his rear. The men stepped forward, gaining on him, and he yelled another “ back !” as strongly as he could, once again waving his cane in the air, and then there was a crack sound, a burst of blue light, and the two men were stumbling backwards. Before Viktor could process what was happening, a light appeared in front of him; the small man was holding a stick in his hand that it poured out of, illuminating the alley around them. He had his hands out in a gesture of goodwill, and Viktor slowly realized the reason he didn’t initially comprehend what they were saying was because they were speaking English. His father had once lived farther West and taught him the language, so once Viktor focused in, he could mostly understand them.
“We mean you no harm!” He finally deciphered that the small man was saying, but Viktor couldn’t stop staring at the light he was seemingly summoning out of nowhere. “Are you alright?” Viktor just kept staring.
“Do you speak English?” The taller man asked, and the shorter one slapped a hand to his face.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” He said to his partner, before beginning to attempt to say something in terrible Czech.
“I can speak English,” Viktor finally managed to get out, and the man sighed.
“Oh thank goodness, I am absolutely terrible at Czech.” Viktor nodded in agreement.
“You are, yes.” At that the tall man actually split a smile and laughed a bit, and for the first time since he’d encountered the men, he started to feel like he actually might get out of this alive.
“Hmm. Yes. Well. I suppose I do need more practice,” the short man begrudgingly agreed, before coming over and offering his hand to Viktor.
“My name is Professor Heimerdinger, and this is my partner Professor Reveck,” he said, gesturing to the man behind him. “And that, young man, was a rather impressive non-verbal defensive spell you just cast at us. I must know, where do you study? I wasn’t aware there was a school this far out by the mountains.” Viktor stared at him blankly.
“Spell?” He asked. Heimerdinger looked at him quizzically.
“Yes, the spell you cast at us. To send us flying backwards and protect yourself. Rather similar to depulso , I must say.” Viktor just shook his head.
“I did not… do anything on purpose. Sir.” Heimerdinger’s eyebrows raised at that, and then focused on how much Viktor was staring at the light in his hand.
“You do know what magic is, don’t you?”
“It is a child’s story,” he said, staring at the man like he was perhaps insane, but then again, there was light glowing in his hand, so maybe Viktor was the crazy one.
“I’ll be,” Heimerdinger muttered. “How old are you, son?” Viktor took a moment to try and remember how numbers worked in English.
“Eleven,” he finally managed.
“And your parents?” Viktor cast his eyes downward.
“Gone.” He didn’t like saying the word dead. Not yet. Heimerdinger’s face took on a mournful look.
“I’m so sorry, my dear boy.” Then, he waved the stick in his hand and the cold that had been seeping through Viktor’s body disappeared, replaced with a soft warmness, and the cough that had been rattling in his lungs subsided. Slowly, he finally stood up from where he’d been sitting on the ground, hoisting himself up with his cane, and looked between both of the men questioningly. The tall man - Reveck - pulled a similar looking piece of wood from his pocket before muttering something, and then there was a small flame in the palm of his other hand, and Viktor’s jaw dropped open.
“Magic is not just a children’s story,” Heimerdinger said, and Viktor looked back down to make eye contact with him again. “It is real. Some select people can use it. And you appear to be one of them.” Viktor took a moment to readjust himself on his cane, fidgeting slightly. “My partner and I both work at a school that specializes in teaching young people just like yourself how to use this magic. I don’t suppose you would come with us to this school?” Viktor looked at the two of them suspiciously. He was not an idiot - going out into the night with two strange men was not a good idea. Then again, they had just performed magic, and said he could too. And his family was gone, all that was left being a small bag of rags and his own freezing bones in an alley. What more did he have to lose?
“Alright,” he responded, at which Heimerdinger did a little jump for joy.
“Wonderful! Just wonderful. And I never did catch your name.”
“It’s Viktor.” Heimerdinger paused, as if waiting for him to continue.
“And your family name?” Viktor had one, of course. But something about saying it out loud made his stomach twist. That was a name for home. He didn’t have one of those anymore.
“I do not have one, sir.” He settled for instead. Heimerdinger hummed thoughtfully.
“Well, no problem with that, we’ll find you one.” He set off back down the alley, still illuminated with the light from the stick in his hand. “Follow us now! You look starving, Viktor, and we have a warm room at the inn just this way.” Viktor knew it was really, really stupid to follow them. He found he didn’t care. Instead, he stuck close to the two men with the magical light that told him he could still have a future.
**
A wand. That’s what Viktor discovered the strange sticks that had cast the magic to be called. He was informed he would get a wand of his own, along with new clothing, textbooks, supplies, and a bed of his own, all when he reached this new and fantastical place called Hogwarts. A school. Viktor had always longed to go to school. He had taught himself everything he knew, finding books from their shabby library and experimenting with spare parts in the woods to build various toys for himself. Whenever he’d see the richer kids come back from their classes in the neighboring town, he’d stare with envy at their bookbags and pressed uniforms, and promised himself that one day he’d be there too. Now, it seemed he finally might be.
The journey to London was fairly easy - Viktor was informed it was in fact quite far away from where they were, but thanks to handy spell that only made Viktor feel like his insides had turned to jelly for a moment, they arrived outside a pub in a place where the air smelled entirely different from anything he’d ever experienced, the streets bustling with a cacophony of noise so loud he thought he might go deaf. Apparition, Heimerdinger had told him, which, to his disappointment, a spell he was informed he would not learn until he turned 17. At the crestfallen look on Viktor’s face, Heimerdinger assured him there were plenty of other wonderful spells to learn before then, and he would never find himself to be bored.
The idea of boredom was quickly banished from his mind as they entered a fantastical tiny world that hid behind the wall of the pub they had landed at. It was somehow even more crowded than the streets outside, and Viktor found himself being shoved about and occasionally tripping, as his cane would slip on the uneven cobblestones.
“Professor,” he asked at one point after a particularly nasty fall into a food cart that sent several crates flying, “is there a spell that can heal my leg?” He had noticed that no one else seemed to need one, or have any injuries at all. And surely magic was all powerful, wasn’t it? Heimerdinger looked at him sadly before shaking his head.
“I will be sure to consult with our nurse when we arrive at the school, along with St. Mungo’s - a hospital,” he clarified at Viktor’s confused look, “but it is certainly beyond my skill to heal. And I’m afraid, perhaps anyone’s. Some ailments are not able to be magically healed, especially if one is born with them.” Viktor’s heart sank. “Don’t give up though, my boy,” he said cheerfully, with the tone of someone who had never been limited by their health, “perhaps someone will, or you will come up with the very cure yourself!” Reveck just looked at Viktor knowingly, understanding rather than pity in his eyes.
Eventually, both Heimerdinger and Reveck disappeared into the crowd, saying they were going to find different things for him, and deposited Viktor in front of a wand shop. Ollivander’s, it read on the sign, and a small wizened old man of the same name greeted him inside. Apparently, finding the right wand was not as simple as normal shopping - instead of choosing it himself, the wand had to choose him, and the first few wands Viktor tried certainly did not like him. Most simply failed to do anything, which made Viktor worry that the professors had been wrong and he couldn’t actually do magic. Then the next few scorched his hand until he dropped them, or shot up into the air and hid on the shelves. Ollivander assured him that he had dealt with much harder students to match with wands, but by the drained look on his face, Viktor was beginning to doubt that was true.
He was just about ready to apologize for wasting the man’s time, excuse himself, and then escape into the countryside, when Ollivander brought back an extremely old box, shaking literal cobwebs off of it, and coughing a bit at the dust mites that flew off of it.
“Here, try this one,” Ollivander said, voice weary, and Viktor opened the box and pulled the wand out. It was dark brown and twisted, as though made up of several vines, but smoothed out near the grip so that it formed a handle that Viktor firmly grasped before pulling it out of the box.
“That one’s pine wood, 12 inches, brittle flexibility-” but before Ollivander could finish, there was a bright yellow light that seeped out of the wand, surrounding Viktor in a humming glow, a warm blanket in a winter storm. Then, for a single second, Viktor felt no pain. No pain in his leg, no pain in his spine, none from where he had fallen on his back, no weight from gravity at all. For a moment, he was free. Then the pain slowly returned to where it normally was, and the light faded too, but the wand still felt warm in his hand, like it was at home. He looked at Ollivander who was beaming, and giving him an incredulous look. “And dragon heartstring core,” he finished, clapping his hands together with glee and relief. Viktor admired the wand in his hand, equal relief flooding through him that he was not a total imposter here.
“Thank you,” Viktor said, and placed a bag of gold - galleons, as Heimerdinger had called them - on the desk to pay, and waited as Ollivander bagged his wand, somewhat sad to watch it disappear from his hand and back into the box. Something about holding it had just felt right. Ollivander glanced over him for a moment before handing the box back, focusing in on his cane and slightly slouched posture.
“You know, pine is an excellent wood for a wand. It usually chooses those who can be seen as loners, but they’re always brilliant. And I've never known an owner of a pine wand to die young.” He raised his eyebrows knowingly, and Viktor tried to reconcile that with everything he knew about himself and his background. Living a long life had never been in the cards for him. Yet… he’d also never thought magic had been either. “It’s also rather good with non-verbal magic. Anyway.” He handed the bag to Viktor, who took it eagerly. “You’ll do great things with that wand, my boy.” Viktor nodded, and made his way slowly back out of the shop, leaning heavily on his cane and wishing that he could once again feel, for just a moment, the lack of pain his wand had given him.
**
Hogwarts, apparently, was a castle. Viktor had never seen one in real life, having only heard about them in the story books he’d stolen from the library. But this certainly was a castle if he’d ever seen one - tall, stone towers, lush courtyards, grand doors and entryways. Viktor wanted to stop and take in every section of it, but according to Heimerdinger they were “Late! Quite late!” and that meant they had to sprint through the halls towards two large intimidating doors. Well, it was more of a sprint for the professor, and instead a rather agonizing quick waddle for Viktor. Heimerdinger stopped for a moment to catch his breath, then turned to Viktor like he just realized he’d forgotten something.
“Oh yes, you don’t know about this. You’ll be sorted now, into a house.”
“A house?” Viktor looked confused. He hadn’t seen any houses on the castle grounds.
“Yes. Not a physical one, but a, how should I call it, group of people with similar values, traits. You’ll share a dorm with them, and compete together in sports and academic tests alike.” He took one more deep breath before turning to open the doors. “Oh, and it’s a hat that will decide it for you,” and then the doors were swinging open and everyone in the giant room was turning to look at them, because yes, as Heimerdinger had said, they were late.
The room was large and golden and so full of different kinds of magic that Viktor had to focus on continuing to move forward and not stop and gawk. Heimerdinger was walking fast, and Viktor was doing his best to keep up, his new robes tangling awkwardly with his cane, and he could feel every eye in the room hyper focused on him. There was a group of students at the front of the room who looked about his age, all surrounding another boy on a stool, who, like Heimerdinger had said would be here, was wearing a strange hat that had a face. The boy on the stool had slightly chubby cheeks and lovely warm skin, a picture of health and being loved Viktor had never seen before. He knew he must look so thin and sickly in comparison to someone who looked so happy and full. The boy was gripping the stool nervously, and also staring at Viktor with such an intensity that he wondered if perhaps he had something on his face. Either that, or maybe his cane or just general emaciated appearance was a shock. It wasn’t disgust that was on the boy's face, though, but then the hat was yelling something about a “ Ravenclaw !” and the boy was being hustled off to a cheering table and Viktor was left to stand nervously with the remainder of the young students.
Viktor was the last to be ‘sorted,’ or whatever Heimerdinger had called this. He approached the stool cautiously before hoisting himself up, gripping his cane tight, and then the hat was on his head, and there was a deep and jovial voice inside his head.
“ Ahh, you’re a special one, aren’t you? ” Viktor almost jumped out of his skin, but the voice inside his head just laughed. “ I’m just the hat. You’re not losing your mind. Not yet, anyway.” The voice that was apparently the hat paused, as though it was searching for something, before making a satisfied ‘hmm’ noise, like it had made up its mind. “You have quite the amount of potential, young one. A drive to learn. A cracking wit. And a mind fit to fight itself out of even the most dire of circumstances, don’t you?”
“I guess?” Viktor responded in his mind, and the hat chuckled again.
“Find your friends, here. You don’t have to be a loner to be brilliant.” Viktor couldn’t help the smile that fell across his face.
“Ravenclaw!” The hat shouted out loud, and then there were cheers erupting from a table of students in blue robes, and the hat was being pulled off his head as he shuffled off the stool. He saw Heimerdinger waving at him out of the corner of his eye, so he made his way slowly across the stage to him instead of the table like the other students had.
“Well done, my boy!” Heimerdinger squeaked out. “You know, I was a Ravenclaw too, in my day. Very auspicious sorting!” Viktor nodded like he knew what the hell a Ravenclaw or any of these other ‘houses’ meant. “Now, Professor Reveck has asked that I send you down to him to collect some last supplies. He’ll be in the potions room, I’ve asked Vinnie here to help you find it.” Viktor turned to find a strange elf-like creature wearing disgusting rags had appeared at his feet, and he almost jumped out of his skin, before composing himself and greeting the thing.
“Thank you,” he said to the creature, and her eyes began to well up with tears.
“Vinnie says thank you, Master Viktor! You are so kind. Now please, follow me.” Viktor didn’t like the way she called him ‘master,’ and what that meant she was, but he would figure that out later. Instead, he followed her back down the hall, where the other students had begun to dig into the meals that had sprung up on the tables. Viktor was quite hungry, but apparently Heimerdinger had places for him to be, so it would have to wait. As they passed the Ravenclaw table, Viktor caught sight of the boy who had been getting sorted when he walked into the hall, and he was chatting amicably with the other students around him, laughing and stuffing his face with a chicken drumstick. He looked happy.
Vinnie led him through the castle, which he discovered to have moving staircases and strange paintings that moved and talked, and he was glad he wasn’t alone because he was rather intimidated by all of them. Eventually they descended into the dungeons, and Vinnie deposited him at an open door where Professor Reveck sat inside, hunched over a bubbling cauldron and occasionally jotting down notes.
“Professor?” Viktor asked, stepping into the room, and the man looked up. “You asked to see me?” Reveck let a small smile fall across his face, which was about as much emotion as he’d seen from him so far, and gestured for Viktor to come over. When he did, he found that there was a small purple salamander that was sitting next to the pot, happily chomping on some small flowers, and Viktor immediately felt his heart melt. “Can I pet it?” He asked eagerly, and Reveck nodded.
“Her name is Rio,” he informed him, and Viktor slowly picked her up, stroking her back and giggling as her tongue quickly flashed out and gave him a small kiss on his hand. It was sandpapery and sticky at the same time, and made Viktor giggle. He had never seen something so cute.
“She’s yours,” Reveck said, and Viktor looked up at him in shock. “Most students have a pet of some kind. Most aren’t salamanders, but then again, you’re not most students, are you?” Viktor turned back to Rio, who had curled up in his hand, closing her eyes and sighing contentedly.
“Are you sure?” He asked, and Reveck nodded.
“She eats these,” he said, passing Viktor some of the flowers. “Come back here whenever you need more. Otherwise, just make sure she has access to clean water and perhaps a small little plant to curl up in, and she’ll do the rest.” Viktor nodded, scarcely believing his luck, and placed Rio gently in his cloak pocket next to his heart, where she fell asleep almost instantly.
“I suppose the headmaster likely forgot you need to eat?” Reveck asked, gesturing at a plate of food next to him, at which Viktor nodded, but then did a double take.
“Headmaster?” Reveck shook his head lovingly.
“He always only introduces himself as a professor. I’ve told him it confuses people, but… yes. Heimerdinger is the headmaster.” Somehow, that made him choosing Viktor all the more weighty of a decision. “You should eat, though. He does it so little he forgets other people need to. Don’t take it personally.” Viktor nodded and then frantically began to dig into the food, the first good meal he’d had in - hell, maybe his whole life. There was roast beef and mashed potatoes, some boiled vegetables and toast, a thick syrupy drink and some small cookies as a dessert. By the time he finished, he felt stuffed full and ready to fall into a food coma. Reveck smiled before hoisting him up from the stool, and Viktor shook himself awake.
“Head back to your dormitory. Take this hallway down, go up the stairs to the main floor, then take the west wing up. Ravenclaw tower is at the top.” He glanced at Viktor’s cane for a moment before shaking his head. “Will you be able to make it up a lot of stairs?” Viktor nodded vigorously. Nothing was going to get in his way - certainly not a couple of stupid stairs. He’d just take it slow, like he’d always had. “Good,” Reveck clapped him on the back and pushed him out of the room, and Viktor began to stumble his way upwards, high on good food and giddiness at his entirely unexpectedly wonderful situation.
Of course, it didn’t take him long to get lost. The directions Reveck gave him made it seem like it would be easy to get to the tower, and maybe it would have been if the stairs didn’t keep moving. He didn’t understand why they did it. Shouldn’t magic be used to make life easier? How on earth was this making things easier? Eventually he found some stairs that seemed to lead up a tower, and he sighed in relief, his leg beginning to severely ache underneath his tired body. He was about three quarters of the way up when he found a small silver necklace on the ground, a small pendant that looked like a flame on it. It was quite pretty, and Viktor felt sad for whoever had lost it. Then, he heard the sound of crying from the top of the stairs, and figured whoever was at the top was probably its owner.
It quickly became clear this wasn’t the right tower. The stairs led out to open air, a magnificent telescope and orrery hanging above him, and a blissful dark night spreading out beyond where the railings lined the edge of the building. Sitting near the edge was a small boy, who seemed to be the source of the crying, and as Viktor coughed and the boy turned around, he realized it was the same one from the sorting ceremony who’d been staring at him so strangely. Viktor held the pendant out in his hand.
“Excuse me,” he asked, and the boy’s eyes seemed to shoot open wider at his accent, “You dropped this.” He paused as he took in the boy’s puffy and tear stained face. “Are you alright?” The boy just kept staring at him, so Viktor walked forward until he was standing next to him, gazing at the night sky, and slowly lowered himself down so he was sitting down. Something about the boy’s happy face from before now being so clouded by sadness made Viktor equally sad, and he wanted to remedy it. Viktor held out the necklace again and the boy quickly grabbed it, hurriedly fastening it back around his neck and stuffing it under his shirt.
“Thanks,” he said quietly, before turning to take Viktor in more. He really stare a lot. “Why are you up here?” Viktor shrugged.
“Got lost. I was trying to find Ravenclaw tower, but I suppose this tower found me instead.” The boy laughed at that, and though Viktor didn’t understand why, he liked that it made the boy look less sad, even if just for a moment. “Why are you up here?” He asked in return, and the boy’s face fell again as he turned away from Viktor to look out at the night sky.
“S’embarassing,” he mumbled, and it took Viktor a moment to sparse out his colloquial mishmash of words to understand what he meant.
“Is it as embarrassing as getting lost and spending forever climbing up the wrong tower?” Viktor asked, and the boy shook his head.
“That’s not embarrassing, that’s normal. This school is huge and it’s your first day. I-” he looked over at Viktor before deciding to finish his sentence. “I’m up here because I miss my mom.” He immediately ducked his head back down into his curled up knees, cheeks going pink. “I haven’t ever been away from her for that long.” Viktor nodded, understanding.
“My mother is dead,” he replied reassuringly, and it seemed to have the wrong effect, because the boy’s eyes opened wide as he sat up, looking horrified.
“Oh - oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean - I mean, that’s so much worse, I’m-” Viktor placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, stopping his rambling.
“I meant that I know how it feels to miss someone like that,” he said, and the boy visibly relaxed. “It’s… not easy.” Viktor found that’s all he could say on the matter. If he started thinking about his own mother any more, he’d end up even more of an emotional wreck than the boy was. “It’s not embarrassing,” Viktor finished.
The boy smiled gratefully, and then he was collapsing into Viktor’s lap, curling up like a small dog. Viktor froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, before eventually deciding to put one of his hands down on the boy’s head, patting it awkwardly. It seemed to do the trick, though, because he let out a great sigh of relief, and they sat there like that for a while, just breathing and watching the stars. Eventually, the boy sat up, and the puffiness of his face had gone down, the tear tracks faded.
“I can show you where Ravenclaw tower is. I’ll be going there too. We should be in the same room.” Viktor stood up along with him, leaning heavily on his cane as his hip and back screamed at him for all the physical exertion he’d put them under that day. The boy noticed and looked concerned, but Viktor waved his hand and he was tactful enough to not say anything further about it for the time being.
“Oh! I’m Jayce, by the way. Jayce Talis,” he said, sticking out a hand that Viktor shook.
“Viktor,” he replied, and Jayce nodded.
“I know. I heard at the sorting ceremony.” He added at Viktor’s look of confusion. “Do you have a last name?” Viktor shook his head.
“Oh! That’s different. Just like your accent. And your leg.” Viktor narrowed his eyes at him. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” Jayce looked terrified. “I mean they’re cool. I like that they’re different. It makes you super interesting.” Huh. Viktor had never heard anyone refer to any part of him as interesting before, let alone cool.
“Well? Are you coming?” Jayce asked, and started down the stairs at a deliberately slow enough pace for Viktor to keep up. “Big day tomorrow,” he said, his face beaming with that bright smile he’d had in the great hall, and there was a strange fuzzy feeling that started to grow in Viktor’s chest at the knowledge that he was the one who had brought it back. He smiled in return.
“Lead the way.”