Chapter Text
Blue Sargent grew up in a coven of witches.
Not the kind of witches found in storybooks, with their child eating and warty noses and questionable broomsticks, no, Blue grew up in a coven of true witches; the kind who used wands and brewed potions and who all specialised in divination.
Women of all walks of life piled in to the seemingly tiny 300 Fox Way, the magically expanded house forever a hive of activity and voices and motion, aunts and cousins and friends who might be related to someone, somewhere along the line. She was also the only occupant in the house to lack any kind of affinity for the notoriously well known brand of magic, no, what Blue did was to amplify the powers of all those around her.
Of course, she displayed all the usual signs of a magical child; outbursts of accidental magic when she was excited or scared, or felt like jazzing up the day, if her mother Maura were to be brutally honest. But the innate talent for any branch of divining magic never reared its head as it had in the rest of the hodge podge family.
It wasn't until Blue awoke late one night to an unfamiliar shout when she was eight -to find a dusty haired boy with a dark bruise across his eye, sat on a kitchen chair and a very angry Calla ranting over Persephone's half sung healing charms whilst Maura spoke to someone in the fireplace- that she finally lost her status as 'the odd one out'.
Later it would be explained that the strange boy was a 'son of a once good friend' who would be staying with them for a while, but at the time the only thing Blue had cared about was if this new child was inclined, like the rest of her family; and when the answer was a resounding 'no', she'd broken into a joyous grin and taken a seat next to her new friend, taking one of his hands in hers and interlacing the fingers.
From that moment on Blue Sargent became the most important person in the world to one small boy.
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Adam Parrish knew he was different from a very young age.
For as long as he could remember, he could make things float and lost things would just appear next to him. The first time his mom saw him floating a toy car towards his outstretched hands, she'd struck him hard across the face before dropping to her knees and sobbing for what seemed like forever, forbidding him to ever do it again and especially warned him to never show his father what he could do.
And for five long years, Adam was careful to never do anything 'odd' if there was even the slightest chance someone could see him, until one night when he was eight, his dad had come staggering home late, stinking of cheap liquor and a perfume that Adam knew belonged to Janine three trailers over.
His mom tried to shuffle him into his room amidst her husband's drunken bellowing when he saw his dad unbuckle the thick leather belt from about his waist and raise it high above his head, buckle aimed cruelly towards his mom, the metal cutting deep into her forehead that Adam forgot his careful control and blasted his dad backwards with a harsh wave of a skinny arm.
Adam knows almost instantly that he's made a terrible mistake, the room is silent for a heartbeat before his father -who if he was angry before, is positively livid now- resumes his shouting, lunging towards Adam hands outstretched and eyes set to kill.
Robert Parrish was not a small man by any stretch and the first blow he lands on his son feels like an anvil; heavy and unforgiving set to the sound of 'freak' and 'abomination' and the horrified screams and pleas of his mom who can do nothing but watch as her husband beats their tiny eight year old son with his fists and feet too dazed to do anything more.
It feels like hours before his saviours comes; a tall dark skinned woman with thick braids and a face like thunder who kicks in the trailer door wielding a thin piece of wood like a sword, a woman with impossibly pale blonde wavy hair behind her and a short woman with pretty dark hair bringing up the rear.
The dark skinned woman growls something in a strange language and a bolt of vivid violet light sends his dad crashing into the back wall of the double wide two more jets of light -this time from the other dark haired lady= and his dad is stiff as a board and floating upside down.
“Hello Adam, I'm Persephone.” The pale lady -Persephone, he tells himself- is crouched next to him, she smells like lemons and smoke and he flinches away from her hand when she brushes his hair back from his face. “I'm not here to hurt you, sweet boy.” her voice is soft and spacey.
Up close, Persephone looks strangely like his mom, they share the same silvery blue eyes and straight nose -his nose- and it's oddly comforting.
“Are you gonna take me away cause I'm a freak?” Adam asks, tears filling his soft blue eyes. Somewhere behind him, he can hear the other two women and his mom talking, along with an occasional dull thud.
“You are special, Adam Parrish. You are not a freak. But yes, we are here to take you away, to somewhere safe where you'll never have to be afraid again.”
“But why? I'm not special, I make things float and I'm good at finding stuff, that's all.” Adam muttered, pushing himself up on unsteady arms and blinking away the floaty spots the movement caused.
“You're a wizard, Adam. You come from a long line of very talented witches and wizards” Persephone sounded a little less soft when she said that.
“Oi, is the kid okay to move?” The woman who made his dad stop hurting him demanded, her voice deep and oddly soothing now that she wasn't snarling like the lions he saw at the zoo that one time with his school.
Adam tried to stand but his body felt like fire and his head felt light and floaty and those damned floating spots were back and a slight whimper escaped him.
“Woah, steady on kiddo, I'm Maura, I'm going to pick you up, you've got a nasty bump on your head and I bet it's making things real fuzzy and weird huh?” This time the woman with the dark hair in a ponytail speaks, and he feels gentle arms scoop him up with practised ease, letting his head rest against the crook of her neck as her arms support the rest of his aching body.
There's more words that sound like Persephone and suddenly his body feels wonderfully pain free, but he's already falling asleep, it's late and Maura projects an air of safety and comfort that wraps around him like a soft blanket.
When Adam wakes up, he's being carried through a very brightly coloured front door into a hallway that is for lack of a better word, magical. There are toys and clothes and herbs and things whizzing from room to room and it smells homey and safe and the warm feeling Adam gets in his chest makes him smile a little, it's everything he ever imagined a proper home would be like.
Maura sets him down at a big kitchen table that's surrounded by mismatched chairs and he immediately misses the feeling of arms around him -once he turned five, Adam's dad declared him too old for hugs and other 'mollycoddling'-.
“I need to make an important call, but I'll be right here whilst Persephone heals you, okay?” Maura asks gently, gesturing towards the big open fire place in the corner and 'how on earth does one make a phone call from a fireplace?' Adam thinks, before shouting when Maura throws something into the flames and sticking her head into the green flame.
“Woah, hey now kid, it's a floo call, she's not hurting herself, see?” Calla tells him calmly, resting a small glass of a shimmery blue liquid on the table in front of him “Now, drink up, it'll make you feel better.”
Adam learnt a long time ago not to question adults when they tell you to do something, so he gingerly lifts the cup to his mouth and drinks it down in one, it's a little like drinking ice and spearmint toothpaste, oddly thick but not entirely unpleasant and the lingering ache he wasn't aware he felt vanished into nothingness.
Persephone is waving a stick over him, singing in something that definitely isn't English and Adam can feel the split in his lip healing over and tingles where the bruises from his dad's fists landed when a small -smaller than him by any means- girl comes wandering in, she looks like Maura but tiny and with short hair sticking up in fluffy spikes. She's wearing a nightdress that looks to be made from about four or five other garments and Adam think it oddly suits her.
“You should be in bed, young lady” Calla scolds, and Adam wonders how she knows the girl is there because Calla's head is buried inside a big cupboard.
“I was” the little girl says simply, eyes fixed on Adam “I'm Blue Sargent, who're you?”
“Adam Parrish.” Adam introduces, flushing a little he adds “I like your name, I think it's pretty.”
“Thanks, I think you're pretty, you have good eyes.”
From inside the cupboard, Calla snorts, amused at the blunt honesty of children and Blue in particular.
“So, are you inclined like my mum and the others?” Blue asks, her face looks almost resigned and Adam hates it.
“Uhh...” He replies intelligently, not entirely sure what Blue means.
“No, Blue. Adam's magical, but he isn't inclined.” Maura says from behind Blue, clearly done with her fireplace call. “He's going to be staying with us from now on is that oka-”
“Brilliant!” Blue breathes, interrupting Maura “You can stay in my room, Adam.” and the smile she gives him is blindly as she skips towards him and takes his hand in hers, locking their fingers together. Something warm unfurls in his chest.
In her softer moments, Adam's mom told him that people in her family had a special person, someone who was theirs to protect and care for and who would anchor them, Adam had nodded along to the stories but never truly understood, but as Blue stands there, chattering away with a smile that's only for Adam, he realises that his special person is Blue Sargent.
A simple gesture and Blue Sargent becomes the most important person in the world to a small lost boy.