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When Eurus’ letter arrived, Mycroft thought it was for him. He was 11, after all, and Mummy Holmes was a well respected witch, often consulted by the Ministry of Magic for their more complicated arithmancy problems. Of course, Mr. Holmes was a muggle through and through, moneyed and well-bred, yes, but without even a touch of magic in his family line, so it did stand to reason that some of their children could be magical and some not.
“Tell me again, Mummy,” Mycroft would ask as his mother used magic to prepare dinner so she could focus on a tome she was reading.
“The owl brings a letter when a young witch or wizard is around 11 years old, maybe younger in very special circumstances. And then the child accepts and attends school, learning all they need to know to be a bright and successful member of the magical community.”
“But tell me about Hogwarts,” Mycroft whined, stuffing a biscuit into his mouth.
“I’ll tell you later, dear. At bedtime. Go outside and play, now,” Mummy would say, barely looking up from her reading.
She’d ply him with stories at bedtime, though. She’d talk about the riddles she solved to get into her common room, and the exploits of famous wizards. Mycroft dreamed of them. And so, on his eleventh birthday, he started waiting in earnest. Every day he’d scour the sky for owls while Sherlock played in the fields and Eurus trailed after him.
“I won’t be here much longer,” he’d say archly over breakfast. Sherlock would protest and Eurus would smile, darkly pleased with that possibility.
Finally, an owl came. It was snowy white, and flew three rings around the house before flying toward the mail slot and sending a letter in at top speed. Mycroft had never run so fast in his life. He was three months past his birthday and summer was fast approaching. He’d need to start at Hogwarts soon or he’d be too old for his year.
When he entered the house, out of breath and legs aching from running, he saw Eurus holding the envelope in her small hands. She was only three and half, but she could already read, and she was looking at the front of the envelope with wonder. Mycroft went to snatch it out of her hands.
“That’s mine,” he said, plucking it from her fingers and holding it above her head. He turned it over in his hands, ready to see his name in classical script. “See, Eurus Jane--” he stopped short, shaking his head. Below him, Eurus smiled. “Mummy!” He yelled frantically, stuck to the spot where he was standing, incapable of understanding how something like this could happen.
“Mycroft, what is it? I was in the middle of writing a very important response to someone and you’ve made me lose track of what I was saying with your shouting,” Mummy said, emerging from her study in her dressing gown. She stopped when she saw the letter in his hands. “Oh Myc, you finally got your letter! We’ll have a cake tonight, won’t we my darling boy?”
“It’s mine, Mummy,” Eurus said proudly as Mycroft shook his head.
“That--no, that can’t be, little one, you’re barely three now,” Mummy said, taking the letter from Mycroft’s hands and examining it. She gasped at the name, then broke the wax seal and removed the letter inside, reading it to herself in a whisper. “Ms. Eurus Holmes---Hogwarts--await owl by 31 July.”
Tears were pricking Mycroft’s eyes and he balled his fists, willing them away. “They’ve made a mistake, Mummy. Haven’t they made a mistake?” he asked.
“Yes, they must’ve done, I’ll get it all sorted today,” Mummy said absently, turning to go back into her study.
“But I want to go to Hogwarts, Mummy,” Eurus said, stomping her foot. The house shook violently in response. “They asked me, not Mycroft.” She twitched her hand and Mycroft felt his stomach clench, and he watched his mother gasp uncomfortably as though she were feeling a similar pain.
“We’ll see, my little one,” Mummy said soothingly. “Let Mummy take care of it now.” And she disappeared into her study, shutting the door behind her.
When she emerged hours later, Eurus was upstairs playing violin and Mycroft was waiting for her, sitting on the couch with several empty boxes of Jammy Dodgers at his feet that he didn’t remember consuming and tears in his eyes. Though he hadn’t heard any of what had gone on behind the closed doors of her study, he knew that it wasn’t anything good for him. Mummy sat down next to him on the couch.
“They told me this hasn’t happened in 400 years,” she said, putting her hand over Mycroft’s. “But that Eurus’ talent is beyond anything they could expect. Without early training, she could inflict horrendous damage without meaning to. They want her right away. She’ll have a special room with a guardian, since she’ll be so much younger than the other children.”
“And what about me?” Mycroft asked coldly. He knew Mummy’s answer, but he wanted her to say it.
“I’m afraid that you’re not a wizard, my darling,” Mummy said, sniffing away tears. “But you know your father has had you tested, of course, and you’ll be positively brilliant in the muggle world. You’ll outshine all the children your age, you already do.”
“But I’ll never see Hogwarts,” he said. “Or work with the ministry. Or have a wand.”
Mummy shook her head. “We’ll still have cake tonight, though. Any kind you’d like. The chocolate bundt, perhaps?”
“Yes, please. Thank you,” Mycroft said. “Make an extra, please Mummy?”
“Anything, darling,” she said, rubbing his hand before she stood up to go into the kitchen. “I’ll have a talk with Daddy as well tonight. And Eurus tomorrow. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
Late that night when he should’ve been sleeping, Mycroft snuck into the kitchen to eat as much cake as he could stuff into himself. It was his usual ritual for dealing with emotion that welled up inside of him--tamp it down with food until everything felt heavy and numb. He didn’t expect his parents to be awake, having a row inside his mother’s study. Normally her protective spells would keep the noise in, but they’d forgotten to shut the door completely, and he heard everything they said.
“I won’t allow it, Violet! I will not. She’s far too young for that school of yours. The stories you’ve told, I won’t allow my 3 year old daughter to go there alone. If her brother were there, he could take care of her, but this--”
“He’s a muggle, my dear, he can’t go with her. Hogwarts wouldn’t even exist for him. I know you don’t understand, but there’s really nothing for it. We’ll send Eurus on her own or she won’t go at all,” Mummy countered. She sounded as though she’d been crying.
“Then she won’t go,” Mr. Holmes said with finality. “Not until she’s a bit older, at least.”
“You don’t understand it, but they’re right about her. She needs to be taught how to use the magic she has. The things she’s capable of--they’re beyond what’s normal for a witch of her age.”
Mr. Holmes sighed. “You’d know more about it than I would, I suppose. But she’s far too young. She can go when she’s 5. A year and a half more with us, what’s the harm in that?”
“I’ll contact the headmaster and see if they’re amenable to that. They’ll have to be, I suppose. I can send an owl tonight,” Mummy said.
-----
Eurus railed against the plan to keep her from Hogwarts, and with her screams came a howling wind that rattled the doors and made the windows look as if they were going to pop.
“Please calm down, my little one. We just aren’t ready to be without you for so long,” Mummy said gently, petting Eurus’ hair. “You’ll still get to go when you’re five.”
“But I’m not five for ages! A whole year and a half!” Eurus slammed her fist on the table and Mycroft felt as though he was being punched in the gut. “It’s not fair!”
Sherlock spoke up then. “But Eurus who’ll be the pirate maid for me and Victor if you’re gone? Nobody else can do it like you can!”
“I hate your stupid pirate games,” Eurus spat back. Sherlock looked like he’d been hit.
“At least you get to go to Hogwarts,” Mycroft muttered.
“I get to go and you don’t,” Eurus sang at him, sticking her tongue out. “I’m smarter than you are.”
“Shut up!” Mycroft yelled.
“Go away!” Eurus shouted back, pointing out the door and into the storm.
Inside his head, Mycroft heard a voice urging him to get up and walk out. “Leave, go, get out of here, listen to her” the voice urged him. He stood up and threw his chair back with a clatter, then turned and woodenly began walking toward the front door. His mother stopped him, her arms wrapping around him as she whispered in his ear that he didn’t have to go.
“Children, go to your rooms, now. Conversation over,” Mr. Holmes said.
“Me too, Dad?” Mycroft asked. He was trembling though he didn’t mean to be.
“Come here, son,” his father said, pulling him into an embrace. “You may not be going to Hogwarts, but we’re sending you to the best schools we can, do you understand? You’ll be a Holmes man, through and through.”
“Yes, sir,” Mycroft said, holding back tears.
“And we’re going to enjoy the time we have with your sister while she’s here, won’t we?” Mr. Holmes said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Off you go, then. I’ll come up to say goodnight later,” Mummy said.
Mycroft pretended to go all the way to his room, but stopped at the top of the stairs, listening to his parents.
“That was what I meant, Siger. No child should be able to compel someone to do something. She needs to be taught how to use her mind and her magic by witches and wizards who understand what a gifted child needs.”
“I saw it, Violet,” Mr. Holmes said, voice shaking. “We’ll send her when she’s 5, and until then we’ll keep her close. Make sure she doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“It won’t be easy. Children don’t know what they’re doing, magical children least of all,” Mummy said. “And I’m no good at teaching magic--I tried it in my youth and failed miserably.”
“We’ll do what we can, then. The Holmes family will survive,” Mr. Holmes said.
From his place on the stairs, Mycroft turned to go to his room and saw Eurus above him, watching and listening. She cocked her head to the side and turned around, walking quietly to her room before Mycroft could think of what to say or do.
That night the wind blew so hard that it shattered the windows of Mummy’s study, and Mycroft wondered if it was more than just a coincidence.