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Chapter Text

Keith had been living in his newest foster home for less than three months, he figured this would be his longest stay. The old woman that took care of him could only care for one child at a time, that left him alone with her most days. He didn't mind. He preferred the solitude of living with her over the constant fighting with the other children. A mix of children with no boundaries and Keith’s own fiery temper had gotten him kicked out of his last two homes.

But he felt that this place was okay at least. The woman fed him three times a day, let him read her dusty books, and gave him a bed to sleep on. That was a large improvement from his first home anyway. The only problem was that he felt caged in, the woman for all her distancing seemed to follow him throughout the house. She'd lock him in a room with barred up windows at night and keep the key around her neck. She'd say something about runaways, but Keith didn't believe her. He felt her distrust rolling off of her in waves, she seemed frightened of him. He figured that maybe it had to do with the disaster that seemed to follow him, after all she did seem like a superstitious old bat.

Little mishaps had happened since he'd first arrived. They certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed by the seemingly clueless woman. Things like all the dishes being cleaned after he'd had a particularly rough day because of the kids at school, and yet seconds ago the sink had been overflowing with dirty dishes. Or the time some animal had gotten into the garbage bin in the night leaving all the trash scattered on the lawn. Keith had been so angry at the time because he'd have to be the one to clean it up. Then a heartbeat later the litter had burst into flames. All of this had happened on more than one occasion and in more than one home, it was the main cause of his isolation. The kids called him a freak while the adults became suspicious of him.

It didn't really matter to Keith, at first he'd been confused. Before his mother disappeared she had never acted strangely around him concerning the little incidents that he inevitably created. Instead she'd give him a knowing smile before sending him off to do his homework. He ached thinking about her gentleness. When he was five he’d come home to an empty house, it stayed that way for a week before Keith ran out of things to feed himself. He'd dialed the number his mother had made him memorize, 9-1-1, and asked them if they could bring him a pizza because his mommy hadn’t come home since last tuesday. He still sees the red and blue lights from that night when he closes his eyes.

She'd been a good mother, at least before she'd disappeared. He remembered her being pretty, long flowy black hair, dark gleaming eyes, and a kind smile. Whenever her features started getting fuzzy in his mind, he'd pull out the wrinkled picture of them together that he'd managed to snag before being hauled off by social services. It was one of those portraits taken at the mall with a cheap plain backdrop...but they looked happy. Five year old Keith was pushing his tongue up against his teeth in a smile, and his mother was looking fondly into the camera. He figured he looked like her, same dark hair, same fair skin, same sloped nose. But he only pulled out the picture on rare occasions, he didn't tend to forget, but when he did looking at the picture felt like cheating.

He lay in the springy bed and looked at the old alarm clock on the night stand. It read, 11:59 PM, he blinked, 12:00 AM. He sighed sadly before staring at the ceiling. It was now officially August 25th, he'd turned eleven only seconds ago. Just like every other year he figured that it would be uneventful and forgotten. Not wanting to feel any sadder he decided that he too would pretend it was any other day. He snuggled into his thin blanket and fell asleep. That night he dreamt of a big chocolate cake, with eleven brightly burning candles set in a ring, his mother was presenting it to him. The dream was better than any gift he could've gotten.

He woke in the morning to the lock in his door turning, his door didn't open but Keith knew that he could now roam about the house. The old woman only unlocked the door once she was up, it was a struggle when Keith needed to use the bathroom in the early hours but he could manage.

He slipped his feet onto the cold wood floor before padding out into the hallway. He walked into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a fist before the woman was ushering him towards the front door to pick up the mail. He felt like a common pet being made to fetch papers, but he reminded himself it could be worse. He stooped in front of the envelopes that had clearly just been pushed through the slot on the door, and began scanning through them as he made his way back into the kitchen. It wasn't a big deal, the old woman had failing vision, so he read most of her mail out to her. It was just easier to pick out the coupons from the real mail first before reciting them to her.

He almost dropped all the envelopes when he got to the one addressed to him. It was handwritten onto a yellowing thick piece of parchment that was kept closed by a red wax seal. Some kind of unfamiliar sigil was imprinted on it, Keith turned it back around to make sure that it really was addressed to him and it hadn't just been a fluke on his part. But it really was a letter to him, it said To: Keith Kogane.

Before he could tear into it the old woman spoke up, a slight bit of impatience tainting her words, “Well boy?” He quickly caught himself and finished checking the rest of the envelopes. Nothing of interest or importance.

“Nothing.” She mumbled her response before squatting in her chair and topping off her breakfast. Keith wanted nothing more than to open his letter, but he was scared. Who could it be? He didn't have any family or friends? What did the letter say? How'd they know where he was living? “I'm gonna be in my room!”

And with that he was off, his speed almost making him knock into the wall when he turned the corner. With all the grace and finesse of an eleven year old Keith ripped into the thick letter, the contents of which would change his life forever. 

Chapter Text

Being told that he’s a wizard isn’t all that shocking, in fact it explains a lot. It finally gives him answers. Answers he had so desperately wanted, but was never given. His mom he decides didn’t have magical blood, she would’ve told him. (Deciding this is more of self-preservation tactic than anything else. He doesn’t want to picture a reality in which his mother, the only family he’s ever had, kept secrets from him. He tries not to remember the knowing smile she’d given him when his magic flared up.)

Things pick up after the letter, a man with a thick orange mustache and equally thick accent introduces him to the wizarding community. He’s kind in a way Keith hasn’t really been exposed to, he’s all smiles and happy chirping.

Cloaks, textbooks, supplies, his wand, and pet are all bought for him. He imagines there’s a similar thing to child protective services here. He’s placed into a foster home with a ridiculously rich and pure blooded family; a boy slightly older than him is their only child and they’re fairly nice if not a little stiff. He doesn’t know how long they’ll allow him to stay, so he sticks to the corners of their mansion and seals his lips shut for the rest of the summer.

Coran had briefly explained to him that wizarding foster care, like the previous system he was in, depended on how much the family tolerated him. According to the older man the Shiroganes didn’t care about blood purity, the only worrying thing would be what House he was placed in. They’d never shown any disdain for any one house, but their bloodline was filled with Gryffindors (the brave and the chivalrous –Coran’s words, not his).

It was a well-known fact, in the wizarding community anyway, that there was a long standing feud between Gryffindor House and Slytherin House (the cunning and ambitious), so Keith was more than a little scared when the Sorting Hat had been placed on him. It’s loud voice bellowing out Slytherin before he could even blink. His first instinct was to flash his eyes to his third year foster brother, Shiro, worry tying his stomach into tight knots.

His fears were unfounded he realized, as the older boy stood up and clapped from his spot at his table. A wide grin, like he was happy for Keith, flashed at him. Biting back a smile, Keith slipped off the stool and made his way towards the opposite end of the Great Hall, his House cheering with their new addition. Later that night, Shiro would sidle over during dessert and proclaim that first thing tomorrow morning they’d write to mom and dad and let them know the good news.

Later he’ll realize that would be Shiro’s first act of brotherly affection, and that his foster family would just turn into family.

FIRST YEAR:

The first thing he learns at Hogwarts is that once upon a time there had been a painfully long brutal war over blood purity. Wizards with ‘muddled’ blood were targeted without mercy. Keith tries not to speculate, knows it’ll only torture him, but something in his bones tells him that the war and his mother’s disappearance are more than likely connected. The timeline fits.

Zarkon, a stain on Hogwarts’s reputation, was the dark wizard who’d begun the bloodbath and then promptly vanished. He’d left his followers, ignorant blood supremacists, called the Galra directionless and therefore vulnerable enough to cause their eventual downfall. The detail that had struck a chord with him wasn’t the fact that Zarkon’s magic was unparalleled, or the fact that for all his harmful rhetoric Zarkon himself was a half-blood, no it was the miniscule fact that at one point the dark wizard had roamed the same halls as him, slept in the dungeons like him, wore the same House colors as him. He’s reminded that ambition is like fire, uncontrollable and wild if not handled carefully.

“Keith,” Nyma’s voice startles him away from his thoughts, he looks up from his History of Magic book to the girl standing before him, “Your foster brother is asking to come in, and you know we don’t like Gryffindors in the dungeons much less having them know where our secret entrance is, so you better get out there” She gives him a pointed look, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint he has to not roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we hate the Gryffindors. I got it!” She narrows her eyes at him, but nonetheless turns on her heels towards the girls’ dormitory.

Bookmarking the chapter, he’s reading he reluctantly leaves the plush –if not posh– armchair he’d been sitting on to find Shiro.

“Took you long enough.” Is the first thing Shiro says to him when he spots Keith stepping out of a seemingly blank wall. “Let’s go get lunch!” Keith frowns at him, but let’s himself be dragged towards the Dining Hall anyway. Shiro’s the nicest person he’s met, and he soaks up affection like a sponge so the older boy is pretty much allowed to drag him down a hole and he wouldn’t complain. “We’re sitting at Gryffindor today since it’s Tuesday. That means treacle tarts are being served today!”

“My favorite,” Keith deadpans, just because he can.

“C’mon kid, you’re no fun,” Shiro jibes, ruffling up Keith’s ever growing hair. Keith almost punches him in the arm, but they’re not at that level yet. They’ve only known each other for six months now, not exactly enough bonding time can happen between classes, homework and meal times. So instead he responds with,

“You’re only three years older than me?”

Shiro sighs deeply, and loudly, like he can’t believe Keith doesn’t get it. Once they pass through the grand doors, the older boy makes a beeline towards the silver haired girl that Keith is positive he has a crush on. Her name is Allura, and she’s Headmaster Alfor Altea’s daughter. Keith shakes his head at his foster brother’s obviousness, and picks his way past two House tables before finally plopping down next to Shiro.

“You’ve joined us today?” Allura asks, passing him the plate of green salad. He shakes his head and snatches up the Cornish pasties instead, because he chooses to eat like a human not a rabbit.

“I was manhandled here against my own will,” He replies with. He’s only kidding because while he likes the people in his year, he hasn’t been able to connect with anyone other than Nyma. Even then their conversations aren’t all that important, and frankly he prefers Shiro and Allura to all of them.

“I can never tell if you’re joking or not,” Shiro adds, forking some of the salad Allura offers him –despite his profuse complaining at the mansion whenever anything green is handed to him at the dinner table.

“I was,” He clarifies, because he doesn’t want Shiro to stop inviting him to eat with him.

Even though he does enjoy the two third years’ company, Gryffindor table isn’t really his favorite place either. It’s boisterous and far too crowded, so sometimes they join him at Slytherin despite the nasty glares they get.

The rivalry between the Houses, usually stemming from competitiveness wasn’t something he’d totally understood at the beginning of the year…but something, or rather someone had changed that sentiment. Although there was irritation there based on quidditch and house cups –amongst the upper years the rivalry was much more tense. The fights when wands were pulled out bordered on vicious, they were quite terrifying the first few times he’d witnessed them. Headmaster Altea usually shut them down quickly, and then later at dinner they got a lecture about acceptance and leaving the past in the past.

Almost on instinct his head turns towards the aisle he’d had his back too up until now, just as Lance is walking down it. His robes billow behind him, red and gold tie loose after a morning of classes, he’s looking up at a tall girl with long hair and familiar tan skin –Elena, she’s a seventh year Head Girl from the Ravenclaw house, but more importantly she’s Lance’s older sister. Her eyes flicker towards him, and she elbows her little brother to stop his chattering. Lance frowns and rubs his side, before turning his attention to where Elena tilts her head at. Oh, that direction is at him.

The second their eyes meet Lance’s frown pulls down even more, and Keith turns back around ignoring as his cheeks flush with embarrassment for being caught staring.

“Good afternoon Allura, ” Lance singsongs, shouldering between Keith and Shiro so that he can lean across the table towards the girl. Like an afterthought he shoots Shiro a cheeky grin, “Hey Shiro,”

“Lance, stop being rude,” Elena says, yanking him back by the collar so that he’s standing upright again. Allura gives both of them a good natured smile, while Shiro waves distractedly, “Didn’t you forget someone’s greeting?” Her hand lands on Keith’s shoulder, and usually he doesn’t like strangers touching him. Much less older girls, but this is Lance’s sister and he know who Lance is so he feels by extension he knows at least enough about the older girl to trust her on some level.

Lance looks him dead in the eye and says, “Nope,” the left side of his mouth is quirked up in a smirk. Keith scowls at him, itching to get up and punch the boy's neck, but then Shiro would be disappointed and that just won’t fly.

To Keith’s pleasure, Elena cuffs him upside the head and threatens to write to their Mama, about his less than desirable manners. With a very put upon sigh, he whines out a “Hi Keeeeiiiith,”

He bites back a retort, because for whatever reason he doesn’t want to leave a bad impression on the other boy’s older sister. “Hello Lance.” He grits out instead.

Lance rolls his eyes, and lands them back on Allura, “I only wanted to let you know that you look beautiful, as always,” His grin is wide and toothy, and Keith feels Shiro stiffen from where he’d been stuffing his face.

“And it’s up to you to remind her every day, right? In case she forgets,” Keith watches with satisfaction as Lance splutters, thankfully all Elena does is try to hide her snicker behind her hand.

“No one asked you, ” He points an indignant finger at him.

“Thank you anyway Lance,” Allura says placating as always, but she eyes Keith with an amused glance he doesn’t quite understand. Lance practically melts on the spot, his eyes doing that dumbstruck thing they always do whenever he has direct interaction with Allura. With a final wink and finger gun aimed at her Lance finally leaves taking his sister by the arm and leading her to wherever their intended destination had been. Elena apologizes and waves goodbye, laughing when Lance gets annoyed that she’s not walking fast enough. He wonders if he and Shiro will ever get like that.

“So,” Shiro starts, poking him on the side to bring his attention back to the table, “Why doesn’t he like you again?”

Keith exhales loudly, letting his head drop onto the table in exasperation as he remembers the incident that started it all. “I forgot his name, after he introduced himself on the train. Apparently that was the greatest insult of all time, because he publically declared me as his mortal enemy and rival for as long as he lives,” it’s the abridged version, but it’s still accurate.

Without a doubt forgetting Lance’s name was the biggest mistake of his life. Sure, it had been a little rude to forget someone three hours after they’d introduced themselves, but Keith had been so overwhelmed! He’d just crossed a magical barrier, and was headed towards an ancient castle on a speeding train with the weirdest candy and he couldn’t find Shiro in any of the cabins, so excuse him for being a little forgetful. It wasn’t just that the rivalry was annoying –albeit he enjoyed it at times– but Keith later found out that he wouldn’t mind friendship with Lance.

Nyma had explained to him, Lance was a blessing in disguise. Lance was part of an archaic pureblood family, the Álvarez’s were well known and their name carried a lot of weight in the wizarding community. Usually the purebloods hid their disdain by not associating with mudbloods, or halfbloods alike, but the Álvarez’s didn’t care. Keith had asked how that was any different than what the Shiroganes did, and Nyma’s look had been absolutely exasperated. Keith knew she didn’t mean it, she liked lording the knowledge her halfblood upbringing had given her over him.

The way she’d put it was that while yes, the Shiroganes were purebloods, they weren’t part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

(The original wizarding families from all around the world, and because blood prejudice hadn’t crossed over the pond in the 18th century, the families from the North and South America didn’t believe in blood purity).

The Álvarez’s, magic was powerful. Out of happenstance rather than prejudice they had yet to marry into muggle-born or halfblood families, so their magic was stronger than the average wizards seeing as it had never mingled with muggle blood.

Keith had felt that with this type of familial history Lance’s ego should’ve been through the roof, and while yeah he bragged a lot it was usually about either his personality or academic prowess. Things he’d created himself, he never fell back on his name when he was in trouble or when he wanted to prove to Keith that he was better at all things possible. That was probably what got Keith hooked.

While Lance was arrogant, it was for completely harmless reasons rather than because he thought his blood was superior. He wasn’t one for House feuds either, by the end of the first week he’d made a multitude of friends not only with different bloodlines, but from different houses. He made sure to flirt with Nyma –who was ecstatic that an Álvarez was taking an interest in her – almost weekly. He was also friends with a couple of the older Slytherins thanks to Elena, Keith had once heard them describe him as tolerable. Which coming from a couple of seventh years was the highest compliment a Gryffindor would ever receive in their books.

The point was Lance seemed like someone worth being friends with. At least that's what he thinks in the privacy of his thoughts, because when he's face to face with the boy his blood boils in an inexplicable way. Usually Keith’s not one to fall into such petty traps, but their rivalry isn't as one sided as he likes to think. He gives just as much as he receives –much to Lance’s chagrin– it's just the way he's wired. So friendship is nowhere near the horizon for either one of them.

Whatever, he's survived kids not wanting to be his friend before, this isn't any different. Not that he particularly wants to be friendly with Lance right now, but at some point it wouldn't be the worst thing.

X

Apparently interrupting Keith’s reading is a trait that Nyma and Lance share because one minute he's flipping the pages of his transfiguration textbook and the next he's got a lap full of a hissing cat. Startled, Keith looks up to see Lance all frowny, his arms crossed defensively against his chest, a squinty eyed look aimed right at him.

“I believe that thing belongs to you,” He juts out his pointy chin in Red’s general direction, his shoe tapping impatiently against the pavement of the courtyard.

“Yeah, she does,” Keith says, a little indignantly because Red isn't a thing! He pats her head protectively and glares up at Lance from where he's sitting. The other boy’s eyebrows disappear under his scraggly brown hair at his response.

“You could at least say thank you?!” Lance throws up his hands in exasperation, it's entirely too dramatic, “That demon , practically mauled me! LOOK! ” He shrieks, shoving his scratched up arms into Keith’s line of vision. Red bristles, but otherwise doesn't attack.

“Why would I thank you? I didn't ask you to bring her to me. She does fine on her own, she likes to wander,” He says, shoving Lance’s boney arms away from him face, “Plus she doesn't like being carried,” Keith shrugs, rubbing the spot between Red’s ears the ways she likes.

“Yeah well! She snuck into our common room and started stealing Amelia’s food. What kind of animal are you even raising Keith?!”

“Who's Amelia?” Keith asks, tilting his head in curiosity.

“What? She's my cat, and you owe her dinner!”

“I didn't know you had a cat? What type?”

“She's a Russian Blue, and STOP changing the subject! I'd say control your cat, but I already know who I'm talking to,” Lance finishes with a flair, turning on his heels to march back into the castle. He doesn't even wait for Keith’s rebuttal which is rude, so he's a hypocrite for calling out Red’s manners since clearly he doesn't have any either.

“Hey!” Keith shouts stuffing his book haphazardly into his bag, he shoos Red from his lap knowing that she'll follow him when he races to catch up to the infuriating boy, “I’ll have you know that I have an abundance of self-control!”

“Is that why you chased me down, and are currently trying to stab me with your finger. Which by the way will probably leave a bruise, so I'd appreciate it if you stopped it,” Lance leans in smugly, like his argument is flawless. Admittedly it is, because Keith does currently have his pointer finger jammed into the other boy’s chest, but that's neither here nor there.

Flushing red, he retracts his finger and lets his hand fall limply to his side, “Whatever. Anyway, how do you know Red was stealing? Amelia could've been sharing ,” Keith’s trying to defend his cats honor. He wonders if Lance is dumb enough to buy into it.

He is.

“That does sound like something Amelia would do, she's nice like that,” A fond little smile appears, and Keith tries not to be disappointed when it reshapes into a grimace. “ BUT, I won't forgive her for these,” Once again he flaunts the scratches lining up his forearms.

“I told you she doesn't like being carried!”

“No! She’s just mean!” Lance indicates at her with the point of his shoe. Red, who's rubbing her cheek against Keith’s leg hisses up at him. “See! Keep her away from me,” He pauses and eyes her with disdain, “And keep her away from my baby blue, she doesn't need your delinquent cat influencing her,” With that he finally stomps back into the castle like he'd first intended to.

Keith lets him go, because there's no reasoning with that idiot.

X

There's a fight. One that unsurprisingly Lance instigated, because when doesn't he.

Nonetheless it's a fight, and Keith being himself can't help but respond. It's not because of something ridiculous like pride, he just has a really short temper. Nothing else to it really? The fight in and of itself isn't important, the aftermath is.

Headmaster Altea stops them before their jinxes hit any of the other students who've stopped to watch the commotion in the hallway. He wears a very resigned expression, the type he usually reserves for their squabbling. Keith has enough decency to be ashamed for creating such a specific look of disappointment on the Headmaster’s face.

They end up with detention, it's Professor Coran’s rotation to supervise so of course it's going to be a wild experience. It always is whenever Professor Coran’s involved.

They trudge together to his office in stony silence, Lance is rubbing at his jaw from where Keith threw a mild stinging hex at it and he almost feels bad. That is until the aching in his ankle reminds him that Lance gave as good as he got. The Professor tells them that they're going to reconvene at the edge of the forbidden forest at midnight on the dot, and they best not be late otherwise another day would be added to their sentencing. Lance complains about having a nightly routine that he just can't mess with or else it's pimple palooza on his face. Both Keith and Coran shoot him a look , and he frowns but agrees to be there on time.

Ultimately, it isn't until they’re a deep into the Forbidden Forest that things take a turn for the worse. Lance is babbling and asking Coran questions. Things like: Why is it called the Forbidden Forest when clearly them being in it negates the forbidden part? Is this expedition even legal? Why do they need to collect slug slime samples all night? Will the full moon affect the slime secretion? Is this the only punishment Professor Coran could think of? Will they run into centaurs? If Lance asks will they predict his future? What about the Unicorns—

“Here, we’ll stop here,” Coran interrupts, nodding his head with approval as he takes in the small clearing. Turning to Lance he levels the boy with the utmost professional look he can muster (formality had never been one of the Professor’s strong suits) “Now Lance, I know you're only asking those questions to distract me so that you don't have to pick slugs with Keith, but it isn't working. If you don't help Keith tonight, I'll make you write a foot of parchment on each and every question you've asked tonight—”

“Nope!” Lance says, scurrying to join Keith at the edge of the clearing, “Not necessary! I'll work even harder than Keith!”

Keith doesn't even argue, because if they make slug sampling into a competition then maybe they'll work faster and get to go back to bed sooner. He crouches down to the floor and flips over the first rock he sees, frowning when he doesn't find anything under it. Lance sighs, but follows suit. He's sitting cross legged next to the configuration of the millions of rocks they're meant to overturn tonight, while Keith balances on his heels. He’ll probably end up in the same position as Lance later, but for now he's fine. A bucket sits in between them; they're meant to deposit the slugs into it so that the fifth year Potions students can juice them for their ingredients tomorrow.

“This sucks,” Lance whines, his voice high pitched and disgusted as he levitates a squirming slug into the bucket. It hits the bottom with a resounding squelch. Both of them shudder with revulsion.

“If you hadn't tried to trip me with a jinx we wouldn't even be in this mess!” Keith says, because he has no sympathy for the other boy.

“ You’re the one that tried to push me down, when you shouldered past me like the heathen you are!”

“What?! No, I didn't!” Keith says, toppling the next rock over with a little too much force. He frowns down at the two slugs under it and levitates them hurriedly into the bucket.

“Como que no* ! Of course you did! And obviously I wasn't going to let you get away with that!” Keith thinks back to earlier today, he'd been in a rush to meet up with Shiro so it isn't entirely impossible that he'd accidentally run into Lance, “Anyway, I would've just pushed you back, but I know you were trying to embarrass me in front of Nyma so I had to jinx you!”

“I don't care about you enough to try to embarrass you,” Keith lies straight through his teeth. Lance gasps like that's the most offensive thing anyone’s ever said to him, which is not in fact true. He’s acting as if earlier this week a Ravenclaw idiot hadn't hissed ‘blood traitor’ at him for flirting with a muggleborn Hufflepuff girl. Lance had merely responded with a frown and a suspiciously oblivious, ‘Hey pal, no need to get jealous.’

Keith may or may not have let it slip to Shiro –who went straight into older brother mode and told Elena. Lance got an apology the next day, which he accepted with a sincere grin, and the Ravenclaws all looked to Elena with confusion because what kind of Head Girl gets angry enough to take points away from their own House?

“Well, you didn't apologize,” Lance sniffles indignantly.

Keith groans, because it had been an accident if it had even happened! “Look I don't even remember, but if I did then it's probably because I didn't see you,” Anyone else and he’d probably apologize, but this is Lance .

“Typical Keith. Not remembering, ” The way Lance bitterly spits out the last part has him looking up. The Gryffindor is shooting daggers with his eyes at a particularly fat slug. He looks past it and to Keith and raises an eyebrow that practically says, am I wrong ?

Turning away, Keith goes back to his slug collecting refusing to look at anything but the ground and the half-filled bucket. He's not going to keep apologizing for a mistake he made at the beginning of the year.

A voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Shiro, his growing conscience, reminds him that he’d never even apologized for the blunder.

“I wish we had a flashlight, I can't see anything” Keith says changing the subject, and trying to get rid of the awkwardly thick silence that has fallen over them. He hears Lance’s work stutter, but nothing after that. He’s half worried Lance won't reply, the other half is unadulterated irritation, because at least he's trying.

Finally, “A flash what? ” He asks.

Keith looks up then, noticing the way Lance’s eyebrows are crinkled in confusion. “Yknow a flashlight?” He pretends to hold one in his hand, fake clicking it on, and fake pointing it at the dense trees surrounding them.

Lance hesitates and then frowns, “Are you making fun of me?” He's suddenly reminded that Lance is a pureblood.

“Oh sorry, it's a muggle thing. It's like this device that you can turn on and it'll shine light on whatever you point it towards,” Keith shrugs, that's really the best explanation he can give.

Lance seems to get the idea anyway, his eyes bright with curiosity, “So like lumos?” Keith nods in affirmation. “That's amazing! I didn't know muggles had that!” Lance continues, “do you have a flashy-light? ”

Keith doesn't know why the fumbling of the word brings him so much delight.

“Uh no,” Is his answer, because, well he doesn't .

Lance sighs in sadness at not being able to see such a mundane thing. But despite his disappointment, he cranes his neck to holler at Professor Coran, that if he wants all these slugs collected by tonight, then he better fire up a lumos because they can't see their own hands in front of their faces. It's an exaggeration of what Keith had said, but he appreciates the effort.

Coran responds with an ‘okie dokie,’ says the spell, walks over his wand, plants it in the soft soil, and returns to whatever he was previously doing. Standing watch maybe?

Lance chirps a thank you, and goes back to happily turning over rocks and mumbling about muggles to himself.  

They work in relative silence after that, and Keith’s kind of afraid to break it. He feels like right now, Lance maybe doesn't hate him. Which is a new feeling for him. Either way, he thinks he's found the cracks in the foundation that holds up their “rivalry.” Distracting Lance with muggle inventions seems like the way to go, the boy has been far too sheltered from that part of the world and up until now that was the only world Keith knew. So maybe that'll make Lance interested enough to just drop the dumb bravado and talk to him? It's a long shot, but they haven't fought so far, and Lance seems to be genuinely curious about this stuff, learning about a TV will probably blow his mind.

He doesn't stop to think about why he wants to be friends with Lance so badly, it won't make sense if he tries to figure out his motive. Besides, maybe he just wants peace? All this constant fighting is annoying!

The Shiro like voice in his head reminds him that he never wanted to build a friendship with the guys who'd picked on him for stupid reasons during his time spent in an all-boys group home, so why is Lance any different? Keith tells the voice to shut up.

Plus, building a friendship based off Lance’s interest on the muggle world will be good for his self-esteem and maybe help reduce that Gryffindor ego the other boy seems to carry around everywhere. Keith will appreciate finally not being the one that can't follow along with the conversation. It's not a malicious thought, he does plan on explaining things as best he can but it feels good knowing that he can finally talk more than Lance without floundering around for the right words because these are object and facts he’ll be explaining, messing that up would be impossible. It's blatantly obvious that social interaction is just not his thing in the way he manages to offend almost every person he’s ever met. Lance to his credit does notice when Keith doesn't understand something, he’ll pause mid rant, explain in a quick and clear way, and then he’ll go back to telling Keith how annoying he is.

Keith's startled out of his thoughts when he feels Lance crawl to his side, he didn't even realize the distance between them was far enough away for him to do that. He looks at him in confusion when Lance finally reaches him.

“Hey do you feel that?” Lance whispers, eyes wide and alert. It looks like he's scanning the tree line behind them for something.

Keith frowns at him, “No? Feel what?” He asks, because maybe he does feel it and hasn't realized yet?

“Shhhhh,” Lance shushes him urgently.

“Lance, I don't know—”

“Don't you feel it?” Lance interrupts, he seems to be searching Keith’s face for recognition, “Look,” He reaches for the hand that holds his wand and flips it over so that it's palm up, “Right here,” he presses two fingers into the center of his palm and waits.

There's a vague tingling sensation, but Keith thinks that's just the feeling of Lance.

“No OK! I don't feel it! Quit touching me!” Keith hisses, snatching his hand away, because well he's flustered. He's eleven he's allowed to fear cooties.

Lance frowns at his outburst, “I don't know I feel like something’s watching us,” They both look over to where Professor Coran stands in the middle of the clearing staring up at the starry sky like he’s trying to predict the future with the constellations alone. “I'm gonna go tell Professor Coran,” Lance says, expression troubled as he stands up brushing the dirt off his robes. Keith scrambles up after him because Lance’s stupid rambling left him feeling on edge.

Coran's wand momentarily forgotten in the ground.

“Professor, can we leave? Something doesn't feel right, besides me and Keith collected more than enough slugs for tomorrow’s potion class”

“Did you hear the centaurs? Don't be scared dear boy, they won't harm you, hopefully they'll pass through here and tell me if I'm correct. I've been brushing up on my Astrological Divination while you two have been slugging. Now, doesn't that cluster of stars look like the sign of death?”

“Sure, but we should really get going!” Lance urges, tugging Coran’s arm towards the bucket of slugs. He glances at it in desperation, before he shoots Keith a look of bewilderment, “ Keith , you left his wand all the way over there?”

Keith opens his mouth to defend himself, when the snapping of branches has them all whipping around towards the trees. It all happens so quickly, one second there's no one there and the next a man that looks suspiciously like Sendak, a Galra with a famously large bounty on his head, steps out.

Professor Coran immediately widens his stance, trying to cover both of them from the dark wizard’s view –it’s impossible. Keith and Lance share a wide eyed look, fear making the color of the Gryffindor’s eyes brighter even in the dark of night. He watches as those eyes flicker to the abandoned wand, the lumos still bathing the clearing in a pale blue light. Realization dawns on them, and later Keith will recognize the steely look Lance sports for what it is, courage.

It's a split second decision, just as Sendak bellows out, “Vrepit Sa!” Lance shoves Coran down, with a surprising amount of strength.

Still Keith knows it's not fast enough, he hears a curse spoken, can almost feel the way it makes contact with flesh. He watches as Lance falls to his knees, but not before he sends wordless magic out of his wand. It comes out red and angry and when it hits Sendak he stumbles with the force of it, his wand flying out of his hand. The decision is easy then, Keith races towards Coran’s forgotten wand. He yanks it out of the ground and runs back to the center of the clearing with a speed he didn't even know he possessed. He shares an anguished look with the Professor when he hands it back. 

Without a second thought, Coran fires a brutal shot to a disoriented Sendak, a spell Keith doesn’t recognize. It doesn’t matter though, he trusts Coran to look after them… them, Lance!

He kneels just in time to catch Lance from falling over onto the dirt, he wraps his arms around him to steady him and flinches when he hears Lance’s cry of pain. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, trying to be comforting. Except that he doesn’t know! No one knows! They don’t know what kind of spell he’s been hit with, for all they know Lance could be boiling from the inside out. Faintly, he thinks it doesn’t smell like that.

The loud cracks of magic clashing against each other is more than enough to let Keith know that Sendak’s gotten his wand back. He tries not react every time he hears Sendak shout a spell, flinching will on jostle Lance and make things worse. “Hey,” Keith starts, his hands fluttering over Lance’s chest, before he shuffles them so that the other boy is mostly on his lap. His heart beats wildly when he meets Lance’s glossy eyes, they’re brimming with unshed tears, “You can cry. I won’t tell anyone”

“Hurts,”

Keith bites his lip, knowing that if he says anything it’ll come out shaky. He’s scared. Scared for himself, for Coran, but mostly for Lance. They’re not friends yet, and it’s selfish, but Keith really wants to get there. Except they can’t if this spell, meant for a forty-year-old veteran of the Old Wizarding War kills him. “Just – just keep your eyes open,”

Lance’s nod is almost unnoticeable.

Suddenly he hears Coran curse, something desperate and loud. Finally, he utters a spell that Keith recognizes, “Protego!” A shimmering shield falls over the three of them.

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you fighting?” Keith asks, voice high and hysterical. They can’t just sit around until Sendak breaks through the protective barrier, that’s just stupid! And Coran should know better!

“There’s more than one Galra out there, all we can do is wait them out,” Is all the Professor offers, before he kneels down across Keith to look at Lance. Tentatively, “I’m going to lift up your shirt now to have a look, okay?” The barely there nod is back. Coran undoes Lance’s robe, and Keith has the fleeting feeling of gratitude when he sees that Lance is wearing a pajama shirt under instead of their usual vest and button down. Keith watches as their Professor takes a steadying breath, then he begins trying to lift up the shirt. Only, it seems to be stuck on Lance’s skin so the process is more of a peeling than a lifting. How there isn't a noticeable smell of burnt flesh is beyond him, but the way Lance seems to be holding back his screams lets him know that the burns are undoubtedly painful. Coran finally gives up lifting the shirt altogether, instead choosing to cast whatever little healing spells he knows.

Keith allows himself to look away then. It occurs to him that they’re finally alone. The fight had ended just as quickly as it had started. He wonders why Sendak gave up so easily when they were practically sitting ducks. “He left. Do you think he’s gone to the castle?” He shares, fingers unconsciously soothing Lance’s hair away from his sweaty forehead.

Coran pauses in his wand movements, and looks over his shoulder like he’s barely noticed that no one’s sending curses their way. Just as quickly his eyes flash to the general direction of Hogwarts, looking back down at Lance he says, “Just a tick, I have to warn the Headmaster” 

He stands and with a commanding flourish, “Expecto Patronum,” A wispy looking dolphin comes shooting out the end of his wand. “Alfor, there are Galra in the woods. I fear they are headed your way. I think Druid Haggar is with them, please exercise caution. I am fine, but one of our students has been gravely injured. Tell Madame Balmera to prepare for intensive healing.” 

With a flick of his wrist he sends the dolphin off into the darkness of the woods.

“We have to get going,” Coran sadly informs Lance, knowing that the trip will be extremely painful for the boy, “Why did you do that my dear boy?” Coran asks, mustache twitching along with his sniffles. 

“I'm an Alvarez, I'll heal faster. You know I will,” Keith wonders if it's something to do with pure blood magic or if it's just a personal belief of Lance’s.  

Either way the response gets a chuckle out Coran. “I'm going to lift you up now,” And when he does the only thought running through Keith’s mind is the hope that Lance will just pass out to save him from the agony. 

The trek back is hard, longer than when they'd first set off. Keith has to stand guard for the time being seeing as Coran’s got his hands full. Every noise in the forest is amplified tenfold, the chittering of the animals making the hairs on his arms raise with fear. The knowledge that they're probably sharing the forest with the Galra makes the darkness a threat. The Galra, who are clearly not against harming a child. It makes Keith’s blood burn, but mostly it makes him scared.

They make it to edge of the woods just in time for the telltale green flash of magic. No one speaks because it’s so clearly an Avada Kedavra that lights up the night sky.

Headmaster Alfor Altea falls that night.