Chapter Text
It was close to midnight by the time George Washington signed the last letter, an elegant flourish of the quill at the bottom the the page. The pile of envelopes on his desk was threatening to topple over, dozens of addresses printed neatly onto parchment. It was a job he always liked doing, and insisted on doing himself, but there seemed to be more of them to write every year. He supposed that was no bad thing, even if the cramping muscles in his hand said otherwise.
A simple flick of his wand later, and the stack disappeared, sent to the Owlery to be delivered. And soon enough, the school would be returning. He smiled at the thought as he helped himself to a glass of wine. The castle always felt empty and barren without the usual mob of teenagers running around, setting themselves on fire and generally making his life a living hell. And some learning, he supposed, there was probably a speck of education in there somewhere if you really looked. He would be a pretty terrible headmaster if there wasn’t.
Washington was almost ready to turn in for the night when something caught his eye, a single cream envelope hiding under his desk. He picked it up with a frown. It must have fallen off the stack or something. The address on the front was familiar, and he frowned for a moment before his eyes widened in realisation.
Of course. This was the boy who very nearly hadn't been on the Hogwarts list at all on account of his background. Whose admittance Washington had had to personally fight for. After all that, it wouldn't do for him of all people to be forgotten. He cradled the envelope softly for a moment before transporting it to the owlery with the rest of them.
And as clouds drifted lazily across the summer night sky beyond his window, Washington smiled at the thought of a certain letter arriving through the door of an orphanage in London.
“Good luck,” he said softly. “Alexander Hamilton.”
Three months later
“Pardon me, are you a Hogwarts student?”
Aaron turned around, incredulous, to see a skinny kid about his age looking up at him with wide eyes. “That depends who’s asking,” he hissed. “Are you crazy? Keep your voice down!” Any passing muggle could have heard them, and while the question was innocent enough without context, the last thing he wanted to do on the first day was draw attention to himself by shouting about Hogwarts in the middle of King’s Cross station.
“Oh sure, sorry. I was just hoping you could tell me where the platform is. It’s not exactly signposted.”
“You don’t know how to get onto the platform?” Aaron asked, confused. This was so not how he’d envisioned his morning going. “Where are your parents?”
‘Not around any more.”
Aaron might have believed the casual way the boy said it, if not for the flash of pain behind his eyes and immediately felt guilty for bringing it up.
“Oh right, I’m sorry. Me too, my folks passed a while back.”
“You’re an orphan?”
“Yeah.”
A shy smile passed between them, too tentative to be called friendship just yet, but a tangible sense of understanding all the same. Then the kid said “But seriously, how do we get to the train? Because I really don’t want to be late on my first day.”
Aaron glanced at his watch which read quarter to eleven, and realised they should probably get moving. “Right, yeah. Okay, you see that barrier there, between platform nine and ten? You just run at it and go straight through.”
“You can’t be serious. You’ve done this before?”
“Not exactly, but my cousin says it’s easy.” They both eyed the wall of solid brick with some doubt. “Do you want to do it together?” he suggested after a moment and the boy nodded quickly.
They lined up their trolleys, and Aaron spared a moment to wonder if the boy’s trunk, probably bigger than he was, would fall of as it wobbled precariously. Then he nodded reassuringly, even as his own heart was pounding in his chest and together they broke into a run. Aaron closed his eyes just before they reached the barrier (ignoring the voice sounding suspiciously like his uncle that told him he was a coward as he did so) but the expected collision never came. Instead there was a strange whooshing sensation, and when he opened his eyes he was standing on a bustling train platform where a scarlet steam engine glinted on the tracks. He turned to the boy beside him, who was staring around wide eyed.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… wow.”
“Wow.” Aaron agreed. He’d been told all about it, of course, but that wasn't the same as seeing it for himself. It suddenly felt very real. This was happening. He was going to Hogwarts.
He suddenly realised he hadn't introduced himself and stuck out his hand. “Aaron Burr, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Aaron Burr. I’m Alexander Hamilton.” He shook his hand solemnly.
It took some time to navigate through the crowds of excited children and fussing parents, and even longer to haul their trunks onto the train, but eventually the two boys found themselves in an empty compartment, and Aaron found himself being quizzed on every aspect of his life and the wizarding world. Did Alexander Hamilton have an off switch? he wondered, but couldn't blame him for being curious. Alexander was muggle-born as it turned out, and Aaron couldn't imagine what it must be like to not know what you really were your whole life. Of course, he’d been warned by his uncle not to get too friendly with muggle-borns but it wasn't like he had many options for friends right now, and there was something about the whirlwind of energy sitting across from him that he couldn't help but feel drawn to.
Aaron was just explaining how the Ministry of Magic worked when the door slid open and three boys piled in, laughing. They didn't seem to notice that the compartment wasn't empty in the midst of your conversation.
“Yeah right, Herc. First years never make the team.”
“You’ve never seen me on a broom.”
“And you’ve never seen me. Bet you I’m faster.”
“Didn't your pa tell you never to bet against an Irishman?”
The boy opened his mouth to retort, then caught sight of Aaron and his smile turned into a glare. A moment later Aaron recognised him and realised why. He’d been stupid not to expect this.
“Hi, Laurens.” he said with a resigned sigh.
“I should have guessed you’d be starting this year, Burr. Just my luck.”
“You know this guy, John?” one of his friends asked.
“Yeah. This is Aaron Burr. We’re old family friends.” He said the word friends in a way that it was clear he meant anything but. “How’s the uncle, Burr? Still working on the Registration Act?”
“Still working on it.” he agreed, praying this wasn't going to develop into an argument. He knew that John Laurens hated Aaron’s family almost as much as he hated his own, but he’d been hoping not to make any enemies before they even started school. Thankfully one of Laurens’ friends seemed to have the same idea and quickly changed the topic.
“Anyway, I’m Hercules Mullins and this is Laf.”
“Laf? What’s that short for?” Alexander asked curiously.
“Ugh don’t ask.” Hercules grumbled before ‘Laf’ could reply. “We’ll be here all day.”
The conversation moved on and Aaron tried to ignore the glares that John Laurens was sending his way. That and the fact that Alexander seemed to instantly get on with these boys, and hadn't said so much as a word to him since the others had come in.
“So what house do you guys want to be in?” Laf asked some time later.
“House?” Alex said, confused.
“Yeah, there’s four houses and we get sorted when we arrive. Like, I hope I’m Gryffindor. House of the the brave and all that. You know Professor Washington was a Gryffindor? He’s the headmaster.”
“What’s he like?”
“Pretty cool from what I hear. He was this amazing fighter back in the day.”
“I heard they wanted him to be Minister for Magic, but he kept turning them down.”
“I heard he’s a total badass!”
“Gryffindor would be neat.” Hercules agreed. “What about you John?”
“Well, all my family have been in Slytherin.”
That produced groans from the other two. “And here I was thinking you were alright.”
“You never know.” John said with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Which is more than can be said for some people.” He shot another look at Aaron.
Alexander didn't seem to notice. “Where do you think I’ll be?”
“I don’t know, man!” Hercules said with a laugh. “We’ve known you, what? Two hours?”
“You do have the look of a Ravenclaw about you.” Laf mussed.
“You definitely ask enough questions to be in Ravenclaw.” Aaron agreed.
Alexander opened his mouth to retort when they jolted forwards as the train came to a stop. Aaron glanced out the window at the dark platform and pushed down a sudden surge of nerves.They were here.
--
“Hamilton, Alexander.”
Alex walked forwards on legs that suddenly felt like jelly, doing his best to ignore the eyes of the whole school that were suddenly on him. This whole thing was insane. Two months ago he’d been worrying about saving up for his bus pass, and now he was in a castle in the middle of Scotland, about to put on a talking hat so it could tell him what kind of wizard he was. Insane.
He knew for as long as he lived he would never forget his first glimpse of Hogwarts. Sitting in a rickety boat and staring up at the castle, he’d been flooded with a feeling he couldn't explain, and had thought he would never feel again. The sense that somehow, impossibly, he was home. Next to him, Aaron had seemed just as awed. Alex still didn't know what to make of the strange boy from the station, but he hoped they were friends. He’d never a had a real one of those before.
They’d been ushered into a small room, about fifty first years who all looked as nervous as each other before a tall man in blue robes had come to collect them and explain how the sorting ceremony worked. He introduced himself as Professor Washington, and Alex realised this was who Laf had been talking about. He wasn't sure how this man could ever be described as a total badass ; he was strangely intimidating with a rare aura that commanded authority.
Aaron had been one of the first to be sorted. The hat had barely settled on his head before it called out “ Slytherin !” Next to him, Alex heard John mutter “What a surprise,” and wondered just what John Laurens had against Slytherins. But he didn't have long to muse on it because all too soon Washington was calling his name.
The hat smelt faintly of dustballs and was far too big for him. It slipped down over his eyes the moment he put it on his head. And in the resulting darkness, there was suddenly a voice whispering in his ear. Alex nearly fell off the stool in surprise.
Hamilton, eh? Now what to do with you? Let’s see, you’re a smart one, no mistake. You have a mind about you. Lot of brains here, and lots of talent. But do you have the sense to use them, I wonder?
Alex felt like he should argue that last point, but maybe it wasn't the best idea to pick a fight with an item of clothing on his first day. And even if he’d wanted to, the hat carried on talking without waiting for a reply.
What else? There’s loyalty here, and friendship, and oh, not a little courage too. Are you a Gryffindor, I wonder? But wait… What’s this? You have a great ambition, boy, desperate to do well. You’d do anything to succeed here, wouldn't you?
Anything, Alex silently agreed.
In that case, there’s only one place for you. Good luck, Alexander Hamilton, in SLYTHERIN!”
The last word was shouted aloud to the whole room and Alex blinked at the sudden light as the hat was pulled off his head. He stumbled over to the end table, too busy being thankful at being sorted at all to worry about which house he’d been put in. There was a space on the bench next to Aaron and he slid into it gratefully as all eyes turned back to the sorting and a ‘Harrison, Robert’ was called.
“Hi again” Aaron said sheepishly, and Alex wondered if he was imagining the relief shining out of the boy’s eyes.
“Guess you were wrong about me after all,” Alex joked. “Turns out I don’t ask enough questions to be a Ravenclaw after all.”
The rest of the sorting ceremony passed in a blur. The three boys that they'd met on the train were called within five names of each other all got sorted into Gryffindor. Laf, as it turned out was short for a ridiculously long name that the whole school laughed at when it was called (Alex spared a pang of pity for the French boy before realising he didn't seem bothered in the slightest.) It was a shame he wasn't in a house with any of them, but how important could houses be, really? Alex tried to work out a pattern to the sorting but it was seemingly random. No house seemed to take more boys or girls, and they all had about equal numbers. Two sisters (he’d guess twins except that they looked nothing alike) were sorted one after another into Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, so houses didn't even seem to run in families. The last name was called (a ‘Wooster, David’ who quickly became a Hufflepuff) and then Washington was standing to speak.
“Welcome back to another year,” he boomed. “I won’t bore you with long-winded words right now, but before we eat let me say this. These years at Hogwarts are the start of the rest of your life, and even now history has its eyes on you. Remember that, and you will all do great things here.”
Later that evening, long after everyone in his dorm had fallen asleep, Alex lay staring at the curtains of his four-poster bed practically vibrating from excitement. This was really happening. He thought back to getting his letter at the orphanage all those weeks ago and never being able to shake the feeling that it was all an elaborate joke, that someone was just screwing with him. But it was real. He was here, and tomorrow he was going to begin magic lessons. How does a bastard orphan end up here? he wondered, but he had never been one to question a miracle. This was his shot to be someone, and he sure as hell wasn't going to throw it away.
--
Breakfast was a pleasant affair, once they actually found their way back to the great hall. Alex, Aaron and another Slytherin first year called Theo (what had she said it was short for? Theodora? Something like that anyway) spent a good twenty minutes wandering around the corridors before a prefect took pity and pointed them in the right direction.
“Seriously, who designs a school with trick doors and secret passages?” Aaron complained around a mouthful of cornflakes. “How does that aid learning in any way?”
“Dunno.” Theo agreed. “The founders must have been all kinds of bat-shit.”
Alex smirked. This eleven-year-old girl had probably sworn more in the twelve hours he’d known her than anyone he’d ever met, and he couldn't help but like her.
“Language, Prevost!” someone shouted, and they looked up to see a teacher standing over them, a stack of parchment in his hands.
“Sorry, sir,” she replied meekly and he huffed before shoving a handful of papers into Alex’s lap and moving on, thankfully missing the glare Theo shot him as soon as his back was turned.
“Who’s that?” Alex asked.
“Professor Lee. He’s our head of house. I think he teaches potions or something?”
“Typical.” Alex complained, and glanced across the room at where where another professor was making his way down the Gryffindor table, smiling and exchanging words with his students. Why couldn't they get someone like that?
When he examined the papers Lee had given him, he realised they were timetables and the three of them compared lessons. Alex would have potions and defence against the dark arts with Aaron, charms with Theo and astronomy with both of them but that still left him with half his lessons that he had to go to on his own. He pushed down the jangling nerves in his stomach, electing to fill it with toast instead, and twenty minutes later he left the hall alone to try and find his way to transfiguration.
He almost didn't make it on time, taking the wrong turn then getting stuck on a staircase that started moving when he was halfway up it, so he arrived at the classroom just as everyone was filing in. Alex recognised a familiar freckled face in the crowd and waved enthusiastically, glad there was at least someone he knew in his first lesson. But John Laurens completely ignored him and walked straight past into the classroom, leaving Alex staring forlornly after him. What the hell?
“Don’t mind him, John’s just an idiot,” someone said, and Alex turned to see a girl he didn't recognise smiling at him. Her hair was pinned neatly off her face and her Ravenclaw tie knotted flawlessly, as opposed to his own which he knew was a scruffy mess.
“What’s his problem? He was perfectly happy to talk to me yesterday.”
She shrugged. “He’s somehow got it into his head that Slytherin equals massive asshole. He’ll get over himself, don't worry. Why don't you come sit with me in the meantime.” She offered her hand, an impressive feat considering the neat stack of books she was carrying. “Angelica Schuyler.”
Which was how Alex found himself sitting on a bench between Angelica and her fellow Ravenclaw James Madison who seemed alright, if a little shy, and completely ignoring the glares that John Laurens was shooting him. Pretending to ignore them, anyway. There was no denying it hurt to get so utterly rejected by someone he had hoped was his friend.
But when the lesson started, it was easy to forget all about John. Their professor turned out to be a kind-faced woman with dark hair who smiled at them as they all sat down, and introduced herself as ‘Doctor Washington.”
“Washington?” Alex hissed as they all scrambled for parchment and quills.
“The headmaster’s wife.” Madison replied.
“They’ve both got muggle doctorates, but she got hers first so she gets to be Dr Washington, otherwise it would get confusing.” Angelica added.
Dr Washington finished whatever it was she had been saying, then turned her ink pot into dormouse with a flourish, but as it turned out there was more to magic than waving your wand and saying a few funny words. In fact Alex didn't even need to get his wand (eeven inches, ebony wood with a core of unicorn hair) out of his bag for the first forty minutes as he struggled to copy down a series of complicated notes (Alex glanced at Angelica’s neat, concise writing and made a mental note to get a copy when exam time time came around) before Washington handed everyone a matchstick with the instructions to turn it into a needle. Not exactly the great feats he’d been imagining but Alex wasn't about to complain; it was only his first day after all and he was still trying to get his head around the fact he was doing any magic at all. At least he would have been if he managed to effect any change to his matchstick at the end of the lesson. He frowned down it, but it remained stubbornly matchstick-shaped. His only consolation was that no one else seemed to be having any more success than he was. He thought that maybe Angelica’s looked slightly more pointed as they packed up, but she wasn't convinced.
John ignored him again on the way out of the classroom so of course Alex focused on ignoring him harder. “So do you have any family at Hogwarts?” he asked Angelica (who was heading in the same direction as him although they didn't have charms together.)
“Yeah, my sister Eliza just got sorted into Hufflepuff.”
Alex smacked his forehead. “Oh yeah, Schuyler, of course. I remember thinking that was weird how you weren’t in the same house. Not weird, I mean!” he added hastily. “Just, you know, a bit unusual. Are you guys twins, or…? Sorry for asking, its just-”
Angelica laughed at his stuttering apologies. “It’s okay. We’re adopted, actually, so all three of us look totally different, and will probably all end up in different houses.”
“Three of you?”
“We’ve got another sister, but Peggy’s too young to come this year. Thank God, I can’t imagine her with her hands on real magic. This one time she got hold of Dad’s wand when his back was turned…”
And by the time they went their separate ways on the charms corridor, Alex was sure that even if John Laurens wasn't talking to him, he had made a friend this morning after all.
--
Herc just didn't get potions. It wasn't his fault. Sure, he’d only been at Hogwarts for a little over two weeks, but he could tell he wasn't a complete dud at all magic. It had taken a week of Defence against the dark arts to do anything more than shoot puffs of smoke out of his wand and three lessons of transfiguration before his matchstick at all resembled a needle, but these things took time and he was no worse than anyone else. The point was, magic, he could do just fine. Potions? That was a different matter entirely.
He didn't know what it was that made him so useless at the subject. He’d always been fairly good at cooking, but apparently following magical recipes just wasn't the same. Maybe it was the fact the lesson was taught in a the dungeons, and he was too busy trying not to imagine all horrible things that had happened here or to ignore the fact that his breath was coming in visible puffs. Maybe it was the fact that the teacher, Professor Lee, was an absolute arse. Why the man had ever become a teacher, Herc had no idea. His only saving grace was that he seemed to hate all his students equally and seemed just as determined to ruin the days of the Slytherin pupils as well as the rest of the class, so at least you couldn't accuse him of favouritism. But that was pretty much the only thing he had going for him. Herc had disliked the man almost instantly, although it was John who’d really fallen out with him. Lee had taken almost thirty points from Gryffindor before Herc had stomped on his friend’s foot hard enough that he finally shut up, and it was only a matter of time before the potions master gave him his first detention.
He was probably headed for a detention himself the rate his potion was going, Herc thought miserably as he examined the bubbling mess in his cauldron. They were brewing a simple Hiccupping potion, although he was pretty sure that whatever he’d managed to concoct would make you do a lot worse than just hiccup. Was it supposed to be such a violent yellow colour? That couldn't be right…
“Did you stir counter-clockwise before adding the lacewings?” a voice asked, and Herc looked up to see Alex Hamilton staring at him from across the desk. He fought down a flair of irritation. Maybe the reason he seemed to be so bad at potions was these bloody Slytherins in his class. They were just both so freakishly good at this. And now here was Hamilton trying to tell him how to do it right, when help from him was the last thing Herc needed.
“What’s it to you?”
Hamilton seemed to deflate a bit. “Apart from the fact I’d prefer it if your cauldron didn't explode in my face? I was just wondering… It’s a simple enough mistake to make. If you stir before you add the lacewings, then you’re less likely to over-boil the ingredients, and it won’t go quite so…”
“Yellow?” Herc provided dryly, before remembering he wasn’t supposed to like this boy.
“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. Feel free to ignore me, sorry, just thought I’d ask.”
Alex disappeared back down his end of the bench next to Burr, and Herc answered John’s questioning look with a shrug. But when the time came to add the next batch of lacewings to his cauldron, he made sure to start stirring before tipping them in. And maybe it was his imagination, but the potion did seem to be a bit darker.
It happened three more times over the course of the week before Herc noticed that pattern. Hamilton would appear at his work station, offer a sarcastic comment and advice on how to how to fix his latest screw-up, and disappear just as quickly. This particular Wednesday, it was going even worse than usual. Herc glanced down at his sweetening solution (seriously, what would you ever need a sweetening solution for that you couldn't just use sugar?) and wondered if he was going to have to start the whole thing from scratch. He tossed some powdered moonstone in half-heartedly, and cringed at the sparks that seemed to be issuing from the cauldron.
John smirked. “What the hell are you making there, a bomb?”
“At this rate, yeah.” Herc agreed miserably, and watched John laugh before disappearing into the store cupboard. His friend may not be a potions master, but at least his work wasn't threatening to erupt.
“Need a hand?” a voice asked and, of course, here was Hamilton at his shoulder.
“And I suppose you know exactly what’s wrong?”
“Well…” Hamilton glanced at Herc’s work. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be on fire.”
“What? Aw, crap!” Herc turned and stared in dismay into his cauldron, the contents of which had indeed just burst into flame. Lee was going to fail him for sure.
“It’s alright, we can fix this.” Alex glanced around the classroom, and Herc didn't miss the way his eyes settled on the store cupboard door for a moment before turning back to him. “Okay, so here’s what you need to do…”
By the time John came back, the crisis was more or less under control and his potion was even starting to resemble the thick liquid they needed. But Herc was more interested in the way that Hamilton seemed to disappear with a quick “I think you’ve got this from here,” the moment John came back into the classroom. He was still musing on it half an hour later as they walked out of the dungeon.
“So Laf reckons he’s found a secret passage behind that ugly statue in the charms corridor,” John said cheerfully.
“The one-eyed witch?”
“Bingo! Want to go check it out before super? We’ve got half an hour.”
Herc bit his lip and made a split-second decision. “You know what, I’ll catch you guys up later. Think I left my homework in the classroom.”
John shrugged easily. “Suit yourself,” he said before heading off.
Herc counted a whole ten second to let him get round the corner, then turned and walked back towards the dungeons, to where he knew the Slytherins would be going from potions back to their common room. Sure enough, it wasn't long before Hamilton and Burr walked past. He took a deep breath.
“Hey, Hamilton, can I have a word?”
The boy looked up at him in surprise. They had never spoken out of class before, not counting that first day on the train. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Do you want me to wait?” Burr asked, eyeing Herc cautiously like he expected him to attack Hamilton the moment he was out of eyeshot. What was with all the mistrust today?
“Nah, don’t worry, I’ll be fine. See you at super.”
“If you’re sure,” Burr said, although the accusation didn't leave his eyes as he glared at Herc before shouldering his bag and walking away. Hamilton turned back to him.
“What’s up?”
“Why do you keep doing that? In class?”
“What? Helping you?” Hamilton’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
“Helping me when you know John isn't looking.”
“Oh.” Hamilton seemed to deflate slightly, and slumped back against the wall. “I don’t think he likes me all that much. And I didn't want to make anything awkward between you guys. I know he’s your friend and all, but he’s kind of a douche.”
Despite himself, Herc laughed. “I didn't know people were still saying douche.”
Hamilton just shrugged. “What can I say, I’m old fashioned. It’s true though, ever since I put this tie on he doesn't want anything to do with me.”
Herc paused, torn between defending his friend and sharing secrets that definitely weren’t his to share. In the end he said “John hasn't had the best of experiences when it comes to Slytherins. But I can talk to him about it if you want? Tell him to lay off?”
“No!” Hamilton said quickly. “I mean, I don't need other people fighting my battles for me.”
Herc took in the scrawny kid who looked ready to take on anyone who disagreed with him, and didn't doubt it for a minute. “Fine, I won’t say anything. But he’ll come around, I promise.”
Hamilton looked doubtful, but he nodded. There was an awkward pause, then he said “I should go catch up to Aaron, before he decides you’ve murdered me or something. See you around?”
“Sure,” Herc replied, and Hamilton was almost at the end of the corridor before he called out “Hey, Alex? I never said thanks.”
Hamilton grinned, and then he was gone.
And the next week in potions, when his latest attempt at a shrinking potion had gone to hell, Herc didn't wait for Alex to come and insult his work. He strode up to his table and, ignoring the matching confused looks from Burr and John said “Fancy giving me a hand with this?”
--
It wasn't that Elizabeth Schuyler couldn't fly. Quite the opposite actually. Their dad had made sure of that years ago, that all of his daughters could hold their own on a broomstick, the same way he’d made sure that all of them could swim and cook pasta. The problem was that she hated it.
Peggy had taken to a broomstick like a duck to water at the age of about about eight, and even Angelica would happily fly a couple of loops around their house, but Eliza would much rather keep her feet firmly on the ground. Watching the earth disappear beneath you with nothing but a charmed lump of wood to keep you from falling…? No, she was more than happy to leave that to the others.
Unfortunately, it didn’t look like she was going to get that option. The notice had appeared in the Hufflepuff common room over night, only to be surrounded by excited eleven year olds the moment they woke up. Eliza could only feel a small stir of dread as it announced first year flying lessons would begin next week.
“I don’t know what the big deal is,” Angelica told her later that day in Herbology, the one lesson they shared. “Most of us have never even been on a broom before, you won’t be doing more than hovering a couple of feet off the ground. You were doing that when you were nine.”
The vine they were trying to re-pot hissed angrily. Professor Franklin had assured them that the plants (hell if Eliza could remember what they were called) weren’t at all dangerous, only a little bad tempered, but she wasn't convinced. It twitched in her hands as she sighed and answered her sister.
“I know. It’s just the thought of getting on a broom at all…”
“Stop being such a baby,” Angelica elbowed her playfully, and the vine took the opportunity to shoot out of her hands completely.
“Dammit!” they muttered in unison, before grinning. Eliza knew her sister hadn't meant anything by it, and anyway Angelica was probably right. She usually was about these things after all. It wasn't like she could avoid riding a broom for the rest of her life anyway.
Although the thought didn't do much to help Eliza as the group of first years made their way into the grounds a week later, all chatting nervously. In what she could only imagine was an attempt at inter-house co-operation, they had all been mixed up for flying lessons so her only fellow Hufflepuff was Sally Hemings, a girl she liked even if she didn't know her that well.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Sally whispered as Madame Ross had them line up besides a row of rickety of broomsticks. She was a witch who’s stern face was framed with age, but Eliza knew not to let that fool her. She’d only heard the stories about Betty Ross’s prowess on a broom, but something in the old woman’s eyes told her they were probably all true. She only nodded her reply, too busy trying to keep her pounding heart under control.
“Now here’s what you’re going to do,” Ross said once they were all in position. “Simply hold your hand out over your broom and say Up. It’s important you put as much emphasis and intent into your command as possible.”
Maybe my broom won’t respond at all, Eliza thought hopefully. She glanced down at it, held out her hand and said “Up,” as passively as possible, all the while thinking s tay down, stay down.
The broom leapt into her hand immediately. So much for that.
At least she was free to watch everyone else, having successfully caught her own broom. Around her, her classmates were having mixed results. Some, like her, had barely been able to catch their brooms with the speed and intensity that they jumped up. The boy standing opposite her seemed just as surprised as she had that his broom was so quick to obey, and Eliza had to smile at the delighted grin spreading across his face. At least someone was enjoying themselves. Others were faring less well, broomsticks hovering half-way between the ground and their hands, or, like Sally, simply rolling over on the ground like a disobedient puppy.
“How the hell did you do that?” Sally whispered, and Eliza could only shrug in return. She groaned, turned back to her broom and yelled “Up!”
On the plus side, the broom responded. Unfortunately, it responded by jerking upright, like a rake that had been trodden on, straight into Sally’s face. She fell backwards in alarm, letting out a cry of pain.
“Oh God, are you okay?” Eliza asked, rushing over.
She was pretty sure her friend was smiling, but it was kind of hard to tell as her hands had flown up to her face to try and stem her bleeding nose. “By dose!”
“What?”
“My nose,” she repeated, more carefully this time. “I think it’s broken.”
Ross had rushed over to see what the commotion was about, and tutted when she saw Sally. “Oh dear. Don’t worry child, it’s nothing Dolly can’t fix, I’m sure. Let me take you to the hospital wing.” She turned to face the rest of the class. “I expect you all to wait here until I return with both feet firmly on the ground.”
Eliza bit her lip. No arguments from me , she thought as she watched Ross lead her friend away. Unfortunately, not twenty seconds later, it seemed the rest of the class didn’t share her sentiment.
“Take that back, Laurens.”
“I’ll take it back when it you stop having your head stuck up your-”
“Oh, you think you’re so great don’t you? With your family name and your red tie. I could take you any day of the week, you know Laurens.”
“You’re joking, right? I’d like to see your skinny ass take me in a fight.”
A few laughs echoed around the quickly forming circle, and Alex’s face flushed angrily. Oh God , Eliza thought despairingly. She hardly knew the Slytherin, but between the the glares he shot Laurens in the hallways, and the whispered comments Angelica sometimes made to her, she knew enough to know that this was going to get ugly very quickly. Unfortunately, Laurens was right. There was nothing but skin and bones on Alex and she was sure that he couldn’t have been taller than five foot, and that was including the extra two inches of pure energy. A moment later, he seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he looked down at the broomstick in his hand, then up again to Laurens with a cocky smirk on his face. “Who said anything about a fight?”
A tall slytherin boy pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed Alex’s wrist. “What are you doing?” he hissed.
“Get of me, Burr.” Alex shot back, and then, loud enough for the whole class to hear “What do you say Laurens? First one around the astronomy tower? Or are you too scared?”
Laurens faltered, just long enough for a ripple of laughter to echo around the circle, and his face hardened. “You’re on.”
“Ross said not to leave the ground until she got back,” someone piped up.
The two boys ignored them, and Eliza’s Very Bad Feeling was rapidly spiraling into panic. This was going to end in disaster. Alex’s friend (Burr?) seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Are you out of your mind?” he whispered.
Alex only shot him a grin, that was the only warning they got before suddenly he pushed off of the ground sharply and went careering into the air.
“Bastard,” Laurens muttered, following him a moment later.
“Oh my God,” said Eliza as she watched the two boys climb higher.
“He’s going to get himself killed,” the Burr ) muttered, not taking his eyes off them.
“They both are. Idiots probably think they’re God’s gift to flying”
“No, you don’t understand.” he grabbed her shoulders suddenly, and Eliza was taken aback by the urgency in his voice. “He’s never flown before.”
“What?”
“He’s muggleborn. I doubt he’s even seen a broom before today.”
Merlin . Eliza craned her neck upwards. Sure enough, it was clear to even the most uninformed flier that Alex didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He wobbled precariously astride his broom as it jerked around, climbing ever higher. John Laurens didn’t look to be much better, clinging tightly to the wood in the hopes that it would turn out okay. What had the two of them been thinking? It was one thing to go for a joyride unsupervised, but the idiots didn’t even know how to fly.
“What do we do?” Burr asked, desperation creeping into his voice, and Eliza was on the verge of saying “We can’t do anything,” but the words stuck in her throat. Because that wasn’t quite true. Everyone here had probably never gone beyond hovering a few feet in the air, but she…
Far above them, Alex pitched wildly to the left, almost falling off his broom. Someone screamed, and Eliza’s leg was over her own broomstick before she could talk herself out of it.
“Hey, wait!” Burr called out, a second too late as she kicked off, allowing muscle memory to take over as she shot up towards them.
“What the hell are you two doing?” she called out, desperately trying not to look down.
“What are you doing?” Laurens shot back. “I notice you decided to join us.”
“Yes, but I know how not to get myself killed.”
“Eliza, right?” Alex asked, and she nodded. “Then get out of our way, Eliza.”
She wanted to scream in frustration. And then possibly scream in fear. She glanced downwards, at the feet of empty space between the ground, and where her shoes hung precariously into nothing. How stupid could they be? “I’m not going anywhere. So if I die it’s on the pair of you. You’ve both proved your point. You’re brave enough to fly up here without a clue what you’re actually doing… oh no, I meant stupid enough. So please, before I fall off this thing just call this a draw and be done with it?”
“Eliza-”
“Is this really worth getting kicked out of Hogwarts for?”
Alex opened his mouth, then closed it again, and she knew with a surge of triumph she had won.
“Okay then. But how do I-?” His words were dragged away by the wind mid sentence as his broom gave a sudden, horrifying jerk downwards. The world seemed to slow to a crawl, and for a fraction of a second that lasted an age, Eliza met Alex’s terrified eyes. She may have called his name, she had no idea. But all she knew was that, a moment later, and almost thirty feet up, his broom twisted out from under him altogether.
And Alexander Hamilton fell into empty air.