Chapter Text
Alexander Hamilton was a force to be reckoned with.
He wrote like a man possessed, chugged incessant amounts of coffee like an alcoholic doing shots, and stayed up until ungodly hours in the morning-whether that be from his own free will or the ghosts of his past.
His past-a dark, sorrowful thing- was in his eyes, shameful. He came from a less than poor family, an illegitimate son of a woman who cavorted around town with any man she saw fit, or so he was told. His father- a debt-ridden Scotsman who was seemingly embarrassed by his son-was never seen again, departing to God knows where shortly after Alexander’s birth. His roots didn’t set him up for anything remarkable, the universe’s laws destined him to be little more than a trader in St. Croix.
Alexander Hamilton, however, did not play by the rules.
He wrote his way out of hell- escaping St. Croix on an exhausting flight to London, where he was instantly swept up by the foster system. After only a few months of bouncing from home to home, the greatest surprise of all awaited Alex.
A crisp, golden sheet of parchment laid sealed in an envelope, gliding over the bustling city of London in the beak of a scrawny barn owl was on its way to a remarkable young boy from the Caribbean.
And by God- that young boy better prepare for what he is yet to experience.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Alex! Post!” Mrs. Mannings called from the kitchen. Alex furrowed his brows, fingers practically screeching to a stop over his laptop. Post? Since when did he, the bastard orphan from the Caribbean, get post?
Scraping his chair against the hardwood floor of his bedroom, Alex swung his legs around and began his descent to the front door, all the while pondering in his mind who the sender of this letter could be.
He smiled gently at Mrs. Mannings, and he took the letter from her hands. Mrs. Mannings was a frail old woman, sweet and bursting with affection. This foster home was better than many he’d been shoved into previously. Mrs. And Mr. Mannings were as close to angels on Earth as you could get-tender, loving elders who desperately wanted a child of their own after years of infertility. When they met Alex- a young genius with incredible potential, a genius mind and impeccable manners and respect towards his elders- they became devoted to making him feel as much like their own son as they possibly could. Alexander couldn’t be more grateful to be living with them. They treated him with the utmost endearment and an outpouring of love he had never experienced before.
Ripping the letter open rather carelessly as he trudged up the stairs, Mrs. Manning's voice floated up behind him. “Please try not to stay up too late writing, dove. You know Albert and I worry so.” Alex swallowed guiltily. This was the downside of having an amazing foster family-an unnecessary regard for his (perfectly suitable) sleep schedule. Going to sleep at four am, or, God forbid, simply not sleeping, was completely fine. The seemingly never-ending supply of coffee that Alex could apparently produce from thin air kept him awake and (somewhat) sane.
“I won’t, Ma’am.” He called back. Yeah, right. An early night for Alex was around two in the morning- no way he was shutting his laptop at 11pm as Mrs. Mannings had suggested. Not when there were twitter wars to be fought.
Directing his attention back towards the letter, his eyes dashed across the silky ink on the golden-brown parchment. Parchment? Seriously? Who used parchment in 2026?
Dear Mr. Hamilton,
I am delighted to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your case is unique, as we do not ordinarily accept students beyond their first year of education. We understand that you ought to be in fourth year, in accordance with our age standards. However, in consideration of your truly remarkable wizarding origins, we have made the decision to allow you to join our prestigious school. Your foster parents, the Mannings, know of your background and magical qualities. You will be escorted by them to King’s Cross Station on September 1st, where your first term at Hogwarts shall begin. I trust the reports from foster parents and teachers, which assure me you will swiftly catch up with your fellow classmates regarding education. Inside this envelope, you shall also find enclosed a list of supplies which I believe the Mannings have already purchased the majority of.
I wish you good luck and sincerely hope you shall join us in September. I believe you will make an extraordinary wizard, much like your father.
Yours Sincerely,
Martha Washington
Deputy Headmistress
Alexander looked up from the parchment, emotions flying around his mind in a hurricane much like the one that destroyed his home. What kind of sick, twisted joke was this? The paper creased as he balled his hands into fists, hurrying down the stairs and bursting into the living room. The Mannings looked up from the evening news in surprise.
“Alexander? Is everything alright?” Mr. Mannings said, startled by the rage that was emanating from Alex. The boy simply thrust the crumpled sheet of paper at the elderly man, who quickly skimmed the page, adjusting his glasses ever so slightly. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and handing the letter to his wife. She, too, exhaled deeply and placed her head in her hands.
“I knew we should’ve told him sooner, Albert. I told you he wouldn’t take it well.” Mr. Mannings carefully placed an arm around her shoulders in comfort.
“I know, Mary, love. You were right, you’re always right about these things. We really should’ve taken more time to prepare him-”
“Excuse me? I’m right here, yknow?” Alex said furiously, flinging his hands in the air. “And what do you mean, ‘we should’ve told him earlier,’ you mean to say you’re in on all this?”
Mr. Mannings sighed, patting the chair beside him, indicating he wanted Alex to sit. The raven-haired boy huffed and reluctantly did so, crossing his arms in obvious frustration.”
“Alex... the world isn’t how you think it is. The storybooks in Mary’s library? All those tales about wizards and witches slaying dragons and casting incredible enchantments? They’re real. All real. Wizards, witches, warlocks and dragons- the lot of them- are real. They’re part of our world,” he gestured to himself and Mrs. Mannings. “Part of your world.” He said, waving the letter and staring at Alex dead in the eyes.
“Your father, Alex- James Hamilton- was a legendary wizard. He died in the name of protecting you and Rachel. His magic was unlike anything anyone had seen before; he inspired people, and saved lives-so many lives, Alexander. He was the greatest wizard of the century. And you?” He pointed a wrinkled finger at Alex’s chest. “You are his son. Destined to continue his legacy. It was such a struggle getting you away from St. Croix- we thought the ministry would have to intervene. But no-you saved yourself. Wrote your way out, not through magic, but through your sheer, incredible skill and ambition. You are the legacy of a legend. And you will attend Hogwarts in a month’s time and learn all there is to know about magic. You, like your father, will become a hero in young wizards and witch’s books. You are destined for greatness.”
Mr. Mannings finished his speech, handing the letter back to Alex, who stared back at him, confusion with the slightest hint of understanding etched in his face. Mr. Mannings offered a comforting smile-
Before the boy in front of him promptly collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Mrs. Mannings peered over at him, raising her eyebrows in exasperation. She turned her judgmental eyes on her husband.
“You could have eased him into it.”