Chapter Text
Trafalgar D. Water Law is six years old when he loses his biological family.
Dressed head-to-toe in black robes, they arrive in the middle of the night, seemingly appearing out of thin air with appalment frozen on their stony faces – a considerably weak reaction to the horrifying sight that greets them. Countless motionless bodies litter the empty streets, as though these poor people died where they stood, simultaneously struck by powerful heart attacks. Being the sole survivor of what once was a peaceful village called Flevance, located quite some ways off civilization and surrounded by woods too dense and confusing to thread if you weren’t a local, Law knows this statement to be not too far off the truth. The village's remote location is the sole reason why it takesThem two whole days to find out about Flevance’s tragic fate – the electricity lines were cut, the communication devices ceased to work and people couldn’t call out for help. Those who tried, fell one by one, twitching and struggling to inhale their final breaths as death took them by the hand.
By the end of what will soon be referred to as the White Plague tragedy, Trafalgar is the only one left somewhat mobile. Even so, he still has no physical or mental strength to leave his dying sister’s bedside, to look for some unlikely wanderers and beg them for help, ask them to notify the authorities, send people to check out the source of this mysterious disease, to do anything at all, save them, save him –
He resigns himself to death the moment his younger sister’s fingers slip out of his grasp, gradually cooling in temperature, and his cries turn into unnatural wheezes, vision blurring and turning white around the edges, matching the pale blotches ever-growing in size, greedily eating away at the expanse of Law’s tan skin. He keeps glancing at the dirty mirror as he patiently waits for the blemishes to spread and kill him, put him out of his misery. However, Law’s inevitable demise ends up dragging out – unlike the countless dead in the streets who have died in no more than the span of a few hours due to their ugly porcelain stains, Law’s blemishes barely spread, keeping him alive. Aware enough for him to fully comprehend the untimely deaths of his family members, unable to do anything to put a stop to it, powerless against the cruel twists of fate.
One could call Law special or lucky. After all, he managed to ride out Flevance’s tragedy without getting mentally scarred for life. Most important of all, he survived precisely because of that “special” part of him, whereas his fellow ordinary villagers were unable to.
When They begin roaming the eerie roads in organized groups of five, searching for survivors and intent on disposing of them, Law has enough common sense to escape the house through the back entrance and doesn’t dare to breathe until he’s inches away from the looming woods ahead. Thankfully,They fail to notice the short, scrawny kid cloaked in the elongated shadows cast by the tall pines.
Law stifles his cries, scared of the creepy, shapeless trees, but even more so of the cloaked figures, and it’s more than enough for him to make a run for it, fearing the outcome in caseThey were to find him. At that point, Law knows that death is inevitable, but its concept is frightening nonetheless. The thoughts of his parents and Lammy waiting for him on the other side do nothing to soothe the towering fears.
When he runs, tripping over sturdy roots and ripping his thin clothes in the process, his only thought is that he wants to live.
He makes noise, loud enough to rouse Their suspicion. One of the figures separates from the group to check out its source, nearing Law’s home. The boy's feet don’t carry him far or fast enough when the stranger teleports before him, successfully cutting off his only escape route. Thick, thorny bushes grow alongside the trail, impossible to pass through. Law pauses, not daring to utter a single word.
The figure slowly approaches him, their face shadowed by the lowered hood. It towers over Law, covering the faint strip of moonlight seeping through the thick foliage overhead. When the cloaked figure steps even closer, Law takes a cautious step back, swallowing to calm the surfacing tremors. The action makes his heartbeat thunder in his ears, so loudly that he feels his eardrums about to burst.
“What are you doing here? Are you a survivor from the village? Are there any more of you?” the figure demands answers. Law can make out the outlines of raised scars on the scary man’s face. His voice is gruff. Law immediately distrusts him.
He says nothing, warily eyeing the stranger’s hand clutching some sort of object. A stick of sorts, sleek and black, rising with every inch of space closed between them. The stranger points it right between Law’s eyes, and while the boy knows that a stick won’t be able to hurt him, somehow that small action makes him freeze, eyes widening in fright. His fight or flight instincts are all over the place when the stranger tells him “It’s okay, it will only sting for a little bit.” All he wants is to scream and kick and run –
Behind the figure, Law spots another tall figure approaching them, a certain kind of urgency in their step. Law gapes, a little shocked to find that he's unable to hear anything that would indicate someone coming close, as there are no sounds of leaves crunching under heavy boots or the snapping of straying twigs. The boy pretends not to notice anything, and it seems that his captor can’t hear anything peculiar either. If this new appearance means Law’s salvation, then he is willing to bet everything on it. He blanches when the cloaked figure sharply flicks the wrist holding the stick-like object, but before it can cause any damage, the wand flies off into the distance. His attacker collapses to the ground, arms locked to the sides, glassy eyes wild. Surprisingly, he doesn’t scream or struggle.
Law falls back, pressing himself into one of the trees. “What did you do to him!?” he gasps, breathing heavily due to the constant fluctuation of his body temperature and temporary relief rather than fear. He doesn’t feel that bad for the offender who clearly had some dubious intentions.
The newcomer who steps out of the shadows is twice the size of the bulky figure locked in place on the forest floor. Underneath the man’s lowered hood, Law makes out pale strands, cold, gleaming eyes, and red-painted lips.
The giant corners Law against the oak tree, and, after a tense moment, presses a finger to his mouth to indicate for the boy to keep quiet.
Needless to say, it doesn’t sit too well with the confused child. “What’s going on!?” Law asks, panic beginning to seep into his winded voice. The man clicks his tongue in annoyance, sending a glance in the direction of the annihilated village. He tiredly rubs at the bridge of his nose. Before Law can open his mouth to question the fair-haired stranger, he notices the man flick his wrist. The lean object, which is clearly not a stick, disappears into the feathered sleeve of his cloak.
Law’s tongue feels too heavy inside his mouth. When he attempts to speak up, no sound comes out. Terrified, he begins clawing at his throat, and the moment he notices the fast-approaching pale blue lights, he feels a hand connect with the back of his neck.
The action makes his world tilt as he unceremoniously passes out, barely registering the flashes of red, faint sparks exploding in his periphery.
Law wakes up cold and sore.
He’s still lying on the forest floor, in the same place where he’s been knocked out. The autumn chill greedily seeps into his weak body, pushing out the lingering remains of warmth.
The petrified man is gone.
However, the fair-haired stranger remains, seated on a moss-covered tree stump, a lit cigarette dangling from his parted lips. He toys with something shiny wrapped up in dirty rags. Even in the dark, Law notices that the other is contemplative. Unlike the cloaked figure chasing Law around the woods, this one seems to hold no ill intent or sinister malice. He’s visibly tired and annoyed, and he immediately senses when Law is awake.
“I know that you’re uninjured, kid. You need to get up so that we can get a move on,” the man says, heaving himself up to his feet. His right leg shakes with strain and then gives out beneath him. He nearly trips, awkwardly stumbling around. It breaks the stranger's serious character. Law stares with a deep frown etched between his eyebrows as the other man casually clears his throat, attempting to appear intimidating once more. Needless to say, the effect just isn’t quite the same.
“Get a move on “where”?” Law snips, the last two days finally catching up to him. There are numerous bodies strewn around his birthplace and his family is dead. “I don’t even know who you are. I’m not going anywhere with you,” he states, crossing his arms.
The man sighs in frustration. Kids seem to be… not his forte, to say the least, especially the less agreeable ones. He pads to Law, seriously contemplating the idea of grabbing the brat by the wrist and Disappariting the fuck out of there before even more wizards show up to investigate Flevance’s abnormalities. “Now is really not the right time for this whole “my parents told me not to go anywhere with strangers” shtick, child. We’ve no time to waste – more will come. More will want to eradicate you.”
Perhaps this isn’t the right or the best choice of words, Corazon thinks, when the kid quivers his bottom lip at him, curls up on the ground, drags his massive hat over his eyes, and starts bawling in earnest, mourning the deceased family and friends.
It makes his heart sting, but they really need to go before the kid rolls over and dies. They need to cure the sickly pale blotches covering his skin before the disease fully sets in, rearranges and melts the kid’s internal organs into muck. He needs a healer and potions to help him. He can whine later. Losing family is hard, but Corazon knows better than anyone else out there that it’s inevitable, circumstances aside.
He kneels before the sobbing child and awkwardly tries to get his attention with an impersonal tap on the shoulder. The kid raises his face marked with white spots, blotchy from crying and snot. Deep shadows darken the skin under his sunken, reddened eyes.
Corazon crushes the remains of the cigarette into the moss and lets the amulet that he’s been told to retrieve dangle before the stricken kid’s eyes, its golden necklace catching the moonlight. Just holding it is enough to make him feel weak, as though his magic is being torn out of his body in big chunks. Corazon is careful to not directly touch it in any way. The amulet radiates black magic, so intense, so smothering that not even the enchanted rag helps contain it. Even the kid flinches back due to its exposure, confused and shuddering.
Trafalgar D. Water Law is six when a complete stranger tells him that he is “special”. That he is something called a wizard.
The pretty piece of jewelry repulses Law to the depths of his soul despite its eye-catching appearance. It’s round with a big, amber-colored stone etched in the middle. Bizarre runes circle it. Law doesn’t dare touch it, and the stranger seems thankful for that.
“This,” he says, shaking the wretched thing, "Is a hexed amulet that’s been dropped into Flevance’s water supply. It’s the sole reason why everyone’s dead. It’s been crafted to kill Muggles – sorry, normal people. This magic has been banned by every known law, but its practitioners still exist and experiment with it. Your town just happened to be their latest target, for which I am deeply sorry, kid.” The giant stranger looks like he really means it. His eyes are downcast when he sneers at the object, covering it once more. “It creates a high-concentration magic field, up to five kilometers in radius – think of it as radiation produced by uranium. Muggle devices go offline due to its sheer density, and the people... well. You've seen it yourself. These men probably wanted to collect the surviving wizards in Flevance - bring them back to run some tests and analyze amber lead poison’s effects. “
Law filters out most of the fair-haired man’s speech, uncomprehending half of the meanings, only really getting that this… this necklace is responsible for killing off an entire village and that he somehow managed to survive because he was a wizard or something.
This was too much to wrap his mind around, but somehow Law wasn’t inclined to doubt the other’s words.
He’s always been… different.
He’d be willing to chalk up the weird happenings occurring around him to coincidences, but not even he could deny them, and was simply glad that no one was around to witness these magical events. If Law wanted to be left alone, the circumstances would align themselves in such astonishing ways that he’d immediately achieve his goals. If he wanted to reach for something way above his head, run away from places, or simply tear off a frog’s limbs without making too much mess, he’d be able to do it all. It was almost as though objects bent to his will.
“Why did no one else make it? I can’t be the only one in the entire village who is… like this, right?” he asks and the man thinks it over, confused himself.
“I don’t know how to answer that. Amber lead affects those without any magic or weak magic levels in their bodies. This could either mean that you are the sole wizard in a town of muggles – and Flevance is widely known as a haven for retired wizards due to it being populated by mostly non-magicks – or that all of the other wizards located in the area had their magic weakened beforehand. Perhaps they were low on it to begin with.”
“But there are more people like me somewhere out there, right?” Law asks, thinking of it as his only hope. He has no one else to turn to, no other community to welcome him as one of their own.
The stranger laughs. “There’s plenty of us. There are even schools for young wizards to learn how to rein in their magic and – well, I’m uncertain as to why I’m telling you any of this, because we really need to go now. I can’t have you sticking around here, and I've had enough Obiliviating for one evening. Besides, I’ve places to be in about half an hour, so if you don’t mind and don’t intend to kick me for taking your hand, do as you’re being told and come with me.”
The unspoken “I’ll keep you safe for now” hangs heavy in the air between them, and while Law still doesn’t want to let himself trust a stranger spinning what might be untrue tales, he has no other choice but to take the offered hand and then warp to god knows where, gagging upon landing.
Corazon tells him to get used to it because they’ll be doing a lot more “warping” in the near future.
Trafalgar grows up surrounded by various criminals and wizards of dubious backgrounds.
Corazon takes him to a mansion located on the other side of the country, and then straight to his older brother whom Law despises upon seeing. The man is nothing short of lecherous. Everything he says seems to have a double meaning, but Law decides to cooperate, even if he’s constantly teetering on the edge of rebellion, doing everything just to inconvenience the head of the Donquixote household.
There’s nothing unusual about kids of various ages randomly showing up at the looming, baroque-style mansion. Doflamingo likes to collect children with fucked up backgrounds to raise himself a future army of talented dark wizards and all of them serve him in their own, special ways, some eagerly and loyally, while others are more reluctant, just looking for a place to stay and waiting to come of age. The ones belonging to the latter group usually end up executed upon leaving because how dare they turn their backs on the family that oh-so-generously took them in, raised them without asking much in return. How dare they spit on the blood oath and act so ungrateful.
Corazon pleads Law to not get on his brother’s bad side. The twisted man has no qualms with booting out the less agreeable kids, and that’s the best-case scenario. He’d make Law disappear in the blink of an eye if he wanted to and no one would ever know what happened to him.
A few months filled with visiting countless healers – most of who wanted nothing to do with his disease, but would still do their job after Doflamingo’s men would whip out the wands – later, Law gets introduced to Baby and Buffalo who are to be his “playmates” in training and guide him through all and any obstacles that he might encounter in the future. Rather unhappily, the two brats cover the basics of their new family member’s heritage and give Law a rundown on the magic world’s rules. Law refuses further tutorage after he finally comprehends the meaning of “mudblood” – a name that the older kids never fail to call him, most of them coming from pure-blooded families, bloated with a faux sense of pride and superiority – and takes up reading instead. Reads all about the “hidden world”, the hexed necklaces and the rare diseases, various cures. His interest in dissection grows to the point where Law vows to become a healer, or as he still calls it, a doctor. A surgeon, to be exact. To make this dream come true, he starts practicing magic in earnest, achieving splendid results in the process, ones that make even Doflamingo proud.
Law extensively researches the Donquixote family’s background and finds out that it’s part of the seven ancient wizard bloodlines – a fact that they seem to take a lot of pride in, if the abundance of their family’s sigil stamped on every surface available is anything to judge by – and then snoops around Doflamingo’s private “conferences”, easily putting two and two together – the man is clearly running some less than legal business. Joker is a famous name underground, one that strikes terror in the hearts of the lesser dark wizards, so Law decides to use that to his advantage to find the bastard who was daring enough to lose his stupid amulet and think that he would not have to face any repercussions for this foolish action.
Law knows that whoever did this sleeps peacefully at night. After all, the reports on Flevance’s tragedy and the White Plague are grim - the Daily Prophet has reported no survivors.
Corazon successfully pulled off a staged attack, stole the amulet for Doflamingo to pawn off, and then rewrote the memories of the ones who had caught a glimpse of Law during their clash.
Trafalgar D. Water Law dies at the age of six. Nowadays, he’s just Law. Sometimes Trafalgar, depending on the mood and the people he’s talking to.
The more time Law spends in Mariejois, the remote resort town housing the Donquixote family's main base, the more warped he becomes, his sense of morality bending with every “mission” Corazon or Doflamingo take him on. Doflamingo’s most trusted men mercilessly crush his lingering hesitance to do morally questionable things, sometimes threatening Law into it. He feels bad for the men they “visit” but feels even worse for himself whenever he thinks about Doflamingo’s notorious punishments, about the “timeout room”, and simply does as he's told, losing empathy in the process.
When Doflamingo tortures one of his men for disobeying direct orders and makes Law watch, he feels no sense of pity, unamused by the screeching and the writhing. By his side, Baby even starts to laugh at the man’s misery and makes fun of the twisted faces that he makes.
Corazon, sheet-white and clearly disturbed by what he saw, takes him back to his room afterwards, sits Law down on the wide bed, and informs him that starting September 1st he is to attend a wizarding school alongside his peers.
Law only nods, trying to keep his face impassive, secretly overjoyed by hearing this news – finally, he'll be able to tear off the chains that Doflamingo has placed him in. For once, Law will be free to do what he wants without having to face any serious repercussions.
As if reading his mind, Corazon tells him that this is a school and that Hogwarts’ current headmaster does not tolerate casual violence. That Law is to keep a low profile, lest he might blow Corazon’s cover – under Doflamingo’s orders, he’s been posing as a teacher for eight years now, gathering intel, keeping tabs on the Donquixote orphans, and making sure they behave just enough to not rouse any suspicion.
Doflamingo doesn’t care about how well they do there, whom they befriend, or what they do at Hogwarts, so long as it isn’t a threat to the family and no one gets any funny ideas.
Law goes to sleep with faint hope still flickering in his chest. None of Doflamingo’s men will ever be able to take that small ray away, torture or not.
Lao G is an old fart with bad hearing and even worse eyesight, posing as their babysitter for the day only because he knows more than half of the people working in the Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, so it isn’t too hard for Law and his companions to orchestrate an escape. Buffalo threatens to tell on him – the round kid never failed to bring up the blood oath nonsense whenever Law was feeling even remotely rebellious – but he shuts up that greedy mouth with two-scoop raspberry ice cream and enjoys his time in the colorful alley, beelining to the nearest apothecary.
He doesn’t give a shit about Baby and Buffalo constantly complaining and moaning, whining for Law to hurry the hell up so that they can visit more interesting places before Lao G inevitably notices that his charges are gone, and who really cares about dried bat turds anyways, but they never leave his side regardless. Law enjoys having dumbasses for lackeys who are easy to manipulate and let him get away with minor offenses – he simply tells Doflamingo’s men that everyone is at fault and that they’re just dumb kids who didn’t know any better. Blaming Baby for their escapades is almost effortless – she’s far too scared of Law to go against him and too damn trusting in general – and Buffalo doesn’t have much of a problem with helping him out as long as he gets something out of it.
Just to stop their incessant bitching, Law purchases the ingredients a tiny bit faster than he normally would, and they barrel through the front door, with Buffalo ramming himself into some poor kid in the process. He doesn’t apologize – Law doubts that he even saw the boy or felt the collision – Baby simply hops over his thin legs, and Law receives the brunt of the kid’s older brother’s wrath who angrily yells at him to watch it, glaring through the thick curtain of dark, curly hair. The small kid reassures him that he’s fine and brushes off his dusty shorts, not noticing the bloody palms that smear the fabric further.
Law watches the older boy carefully take his brother by the less injured hand, guiding him through the thick crowd consisting mostly of young wizards, witches and their parents happily purchasing school supplies. The sight makes Law uncomfortable, so he lets his gaze scan the countless shops just for the sake of having something to do, not one bit caring that he’s just been separated from his “family”.
By the end of the day, Law feels pretty content, pleased with his purchases, having bought far more than was listed on his acceptance letter. He’s sitting in his cramped room and reading a book on rare potions when Corazon comes in to check on him. Law doesn’t set the book down for the sake of keeping up appearances, but still listens to Corazon going off about Law’s new books, about being forced to read them in the past and ending up liking some of the authors. Their names mean nothing to Law, but so far he’s enjoying the heavy read so he has no doubt in his mind that the rest are just as good.
Law likes Corazon’s wits because the man always charms the guards patrolling the halls, usually stationed behind Law’s door – the fair-haired man is a master of silence spells, Muffiliato being his favorite. Corazon isn’t evil or annoying like Trebol or Vergo, he’s simple and easy-going, and while Law likes to mess with him, the man’s presence providing him with a sense of comfort, one he has long since forgotten.
He reluctantly shows Corazon his wand – hawthorn with the hair of a unicorn in its core – and sighs in resignation when the man gets far too excited. He attempts to cast a spell with it, setting his shoulder on fire in the process. The wand makes a graceful arc in the air, neatly landing in Law’s lap as if knowing who its new owner is. The hilarity of Corazon trying to put out the blue flames, combined with his picky wand, makes Law burst out laughing for what seems to be the first time in years.
He nearly doubles over himself as he cackles, tears springing up to his tired eyes, and he never wants to stop. He wants to hold onto the liberating feeling while Corazon goes quiet and still, wide-eyed with surprise – Law would refuse to smile, no less laugh, so this is… unique.
The sight makes the man smirk, fond.
This is exactly what he wants for Law and he hopes that the boy will get to experience happier times at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Law begins making enemies on his train trip to school.
He is forced to board the Hogwarts Express with Bellamy and his lackeys and then share a compartment per Doflamingo’s orders – “the boss” wants the other students to know who it is that they’ll be dealing with. Teens avoid meeting Law’s eyes when he stretches his legs, and so does the kind lunch lady who visits them halfway into the trip. Law stares at the unfamiliar treats and refuses to buy anything, suddenly aware of the suspicious movement in some of the boxes wrapped up in colorful foil. Buffalo says “Don’t mind if I do” and buys a bit of everything, nearly getting sick on them after the train experiences some turbulence.
Pissed off beyond belief, Bellamy unceremoniously banishes the newbies to a different compartment which certainly wasn’t empty before, but who is Law to question Bellamy and his attitude problems, knowing perfectly well that the other would be more than capable of chasing out some teens without any backup needed.
For that, they get in trouble with a pissed-off prefect already dressed in his school uniform – Law tries very hard to remember which house had the color yellow in it, and ends up drawing a blank – but Law simply directs the raging teen to Bellamy’s squad, rolling his eyes at the unnecessary dramatics. The kid calls him rude but thanks him for cooperating anyway and Buffalo is far too sick to ask for bribes. Either way, Law’s snitching goes unnoticed and the hex battle occurring in the hallway is stopped before it can actually get serious, so in the end, it all works out, really. Not like he cares in the slightest.
It takes just a few hours for his reputation to go to complete shit, and the moment the first-years board the small boats meant to bring them across the huge lake leading to an impressive castle, Law can hear poisonous whispers behind his back, heatedly discussing his ties to the troublemakers. It’s annoying, to say the least, and dampens his mood to the point the ride is no longer enjoyable, his initial excitement to see the self-propelled boats that Corazon had mentioned doing nothing to salvage it. Instead, he curls up in his seat and tries to warm his palms, failing in his task and focusing on Baby’s awe to drown out the toxic whispers.
While he semi-patiently waits in line to put on the ragged sorting hat that will decide his future, he nearly decks some kid standing to his right, spreading lies about him and Baby plus Buffalo – I heard that they’re Bellamy’s adoptive siblings, they’re evil to the bone, that short kid threatened me for getting in his way while we were walking to the express, he’s twisted, look at him, look at them, last year, Bellamy broke my brother’s nose for no reason at all and they will probably do the same if you so much as glance their way, mark my words they will end up in Slytherin – and tries to focus on the magical part of the dining hall instead, tilting his head to observe the fake sky looming above. From the teachers’ table, Corazon catches his roaming gaze and discreetly gives him a thumbs up. Law appreciates the gesture, nodding stiffly.
If he were a believer, he’d thank god for his remaining surname – Baby and Buffalo are stuck with Donquixote as their last name, successfully singling them out the moment their names are called to the front, both of them ending up at Slytherin, aka Bellamy’s house – because it shocks the lying kid into stunned silence. Law flips him off right before walking to the front and then the lifeless hat, grateful for the temporary lights out that it provides.
He’s a hat stall.
It whispers confusing sentences and musings into Law’s ears, thinking of where to place him, holding his fate in its proverbial hands. “You’re brave and bold, yet you rarely take risks, often choosing the safe, secure route… No, this lifestyle isn’t meant for you. You believe in hard work, effort, and wish to help those in need despite living in a state of denial… But do you truly think that effort trumps raw talent and luck? You’re clever, smart beyond your years, and very capable. You know this far too well and put quite a bit of effort into constantly nurturing your ever-present thirst for knowledge to achieve your goals – which makes me address this ambitious side of yours. You’ve no qualms using others for your gain and have little regard for those standing in the way, so it’d be interesting to witness your growth in Slytherin, the house of the cunning.”
The final statement sounds like a death sentence to Law’s ears as if the hat is imposing on his new, restriction-free lifestyle, putting him in shackles once more. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near Slytherin, doesn’t want their colors on his clothes, and doesn’t want Bellamy controlling the next five years of his supposed freedom – something that Doflamingo has “graciously” bestowed upon him for being a good brat and knowing his place. He isn’t here to make friends, but he isn’t here to make the entire school his enemy either, and while he’s gotten used to hating and being hated, being alone without anyone to fully trust – god, he just doesn’t want to be thrown into the turbulent currents of the sea without anything to hold onto, anyone to offer him a hand if needed.
He isn’t going to gain anything from Slytherin, no connections and no positivity, only a repeat of his years at the Mariejois. Doflamingo will be breathing down the back of his neck, Bellamy will threaten to report his every single mistake and he’ll have to face the consequences the moment he’s back in that accursed mansion.
A hat has no place to tell him how to live his life, no less judge his fate like this.
“I don’t want to be in Slytherin,” Law mumbles, and hears a quizzical hum in return. “Place me anywhere, I don’t care, just not Slytherin.”
“Ah,” the hat says, “But you could grow so much more there. It’s the fastest way for you to reach your innermost goals, and deep down, you know it to be true.”
“I don’t care,” Law nearly begs, please, please, please, anywhere but there, “I’d rather drop out right now than end up in that place.”
“You made your resolve very clear,” the hat answers him after what seems to be hours. It was so silent that Law was almost certain that it had either abandoned him or given up on trying to hear him out. “Very well then, I shall look forward to witnessing your endless pursuit of knowledge in, “ Law hears the stretching of the fabric as the hat opens its formless mouth to announce his fate to the countless people flooding the dining hall, “RAVENCLAW!”
The table adorned in blue and bronze banners politely applauds the newcomer as Law slides off the three-legged chair with jelly-like legs, still reeling from the nerve-wracking experience. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that the members of the Donquixote family are gaping at his retreating back, betrayed and disbelieving. As some older kids make space for him to sit down, their smiles just a tad forced, Law feels smug with victory, as if he’s just proven everyone wrong, trampling all over their imposed expectations.
Corazon is clapping heatedly, his chair lying on its side. He waves at Law when their eyes meet again. Law shyly returns the gesture, flushing. Corazon mouths “I’m proud of you” and finally relents to the other teachers’ bemused stares, steadying the chair and then watching the rest of the sorting with a bit of a bored expression on his face.
Personally, Law just wants this to be over and done with, weak from hunger that he’s been trying to fight down the entire day – it’s not like Doflamingo’s maids ever packed them lunches.
Law’s first weeks in Hogwarts are decent. He enjoys his classes and people generally steer clear of him without bothering to say anything nasty beforehand, so that’s good. He doesn’t mind being alone as he’s been a loner even ways before Flevance’s tragedy, always the odd one out. Law doesn’t think himself capable of maintaining relationships, far too distant and aloof to properly open up to anyone, no less trust them. Instead, he finds himself spending his free time in the library. It turns into somewhat of a haven, the one place Bellamy and the rest would never think of checking out in case they ever needed him for anything.
Bellamy labels him a traitor to the family, and while that aggressive statement earns him some nasty glares from the nameless kids with green and silver ties, Law doesn’t mind it one bit, continuing to ignore them. During their first days at Hogwarts, Baby would catch Law in the vacated hallways right before the start of classes under the pretense of wanting to know how he’s been doing, and then without waiting for an unlikely reply, she would unabashedly ask for his notes. She’d attempted to convince him that copying homework was a part of that stupid blood oath, but after Law got fed up and glared her away, Baby didn’t bother him again, hiding behind her new friends from, surprise surprise, Gryffindor, whenever they passed each other by.
His teachers praise his bottomless innate talent and straight up place him on a pedestal, always asking him to demonstrate how to properly charm things, mix potions, and whatnot. Law knows that the students dislike him for that, call him a know-it-all behind his back whenever he correctly answers a teacher’s question and doesn’t mess up minor tasks. He only kind of sucks at the compulsory flying classes – the broomstick refuses to obey no matter how authoritative and confident he tries to sound as he orders it to fly into his open palm, getting frustrated in the process – and that alone makes him the target of teasing for the magical world’s equivalent of jocks, already boasting about how they’re totally going to land a spot on their respective house’s Quidditch team the following year. Law sees no appeal in zooming around on shaggy, unstable broomsticks and putting balls through hoops with the ever-present threat of getting knocked out by a Bludger, so he refuses to associate himself with such a… rough sport.
A few months into the school year, the Slytherins finally take notice of Law’s uncaring, unbendable demeanor and begin to nitpick for flaws, choosing the worst one possible in the process. While Law doesn’t make any friends, it doesn’t mean that he’s truly alone because Corazon, who insists on being called Professor Donquixote or Rocinante whenever there are people around, but doesn’t mind the occasional Mr. Cora, always makes an effort to bring Law outside on the weekends for fresh air and breakfast. He shows the boy around the school grounds and they usually end up sitting down on a stone bench conveniently placed further away from the castle, hidden in the shade of trees. Law enjoys the peace it provides, and feeds the creatures lurking in the dark waters of the lake while Corazon skips stones further away, asking Law about his studies.
When he’s too busy with teacher duties to meet Law outside, the man goes out of his way to drop by the library, and while they don’t really talk, Corazon is fine with sitting in silence, reading over books that would help him make his classes a little more interesting.
They get spotted in the hallway when Corazon is handing Law a bundle of new potion ingredients that he'd wanted and it goes downhill from there. Law is waiting for his Charms class when the creepy dudes that Buffalo often hangs out with roughly brush past him, making him stumble forward and nearly drop his schoolbag in the process. Law, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the start of the class, decides to brush off this obvious offense meant to either harm him or his belongings, but then the biggest, the dumbest-looking kid of the group strolls up to him and signs his sentence. “What are you gonna do about it? Run to that freakshow Rocinante like the good pet that you are and tell on us?”
Law’s wand is out before the guy can push him again. In a blind rage, he casts the first spell to pop into his mind, intent on making the other eat his words. Horrified screams erupt in the hallway as Law watches with a sick fascination the guy’s face turning purple and then parchment-white due to the blinding pain caused by the rashes appearing on his skin, steadily growing in size.
Law refuses to lower his wand even though the students are yelling at him to stop it already, that he’s had enough, but the multiple pleas fall on deaf ears. Law gigantifies the nose of yet another brash bully charging in, fists swinging and wand foolishly forgotten, dead set on avenging his writhing comrade.
Afterwards, no one else wants to come within a three-meter radius of him. Law calmly approaches the moaning guy, his ugly, twisted face bleeding from all that scratching – it’s entirely his own fault for being unable to stay put and ride out the hex – and mercilessly brings his foot down, his heel connecting with the mouthy bastard’s solar plexus, effectively knocking out the remains of shuddering breath from his contracting lungs. If he were even remotely serious, Law would grind his heel against the bully’s torso to make sure that he gets reduced to a sobbing, begging mess, but he quickly remembers that this is a school and takes the leg away. He points the wand at him instead, face stone-like and eyes cold when he quietly warns, “Don’t you ever touch me again. Do I make myself clear?”
The mess on the floor whimpers pathetically. Law is tempted to cast another spell, still furious at the other for bringing Corazon into this, but a firm hand snags his wrist and he doesn’t need to turn around to know that it’s the Charms professor.
Ms. Tashigi instructs some Slytherins to bring their housemate to the healer’s office ASAP and tells the rest of the students to head inside the classroom and wait for her return. She must deal with Law’s punishment first.
Upon hearing the word “punishment”, Law knows that he has royally fucked up, glaring at the lingering Ravenclaw kids for not speaking up on his behalf and telling the professor that everything was on that Slytherin boy who provoked Law into drawing his wand in an attempt to defend himself.
His offense is considered pretty grave and costs him a whole lot of house points, but Law manages to get away with a few weeks of detention and three essays only. If Tashigi hadn’t appeared when she did, by now that Slytherin guy would’ve been dead. Not that Law truly cares about any of that, honestly disappointed that he couldn’t deal more damage. His tormentor gets away with not doing his homework by pretending that he still has phantom aches and Law’s the one stuck cleaning the various house trophies and Quidditch cups dating back to the 1800s, his dislike for the sport growing with every nameplate that he’s forced to scrub.
People start avoiding him as though he's diseased, talking about Law's outrageous offenses behind his back. They call him insane for what he did and hate him for selfishly robbing Ravenclaw of its first place in the house rankings. At least Doflamingo doesn’t send him a howler or anything of the sort – it would’ve only cemented his reputation as misplaced Slytherin scum.
Corazon is very disappointed in him, but once he hears the truth from Law, he relents, touched by the latter’s protectiveness. He still reminds Law to stop putting students’ lives in danger, but the piece of advice goes to naught because right after Easter, Trafalgar poisons his potions partner’s cauldron for talking smack about the weird, eccentric professor Rocinante who dresses like a muggle and who’s clearly a half-giant, considered his insane height.
Law even fesses up to it when they rush the gagging kid to the healing ward.
This one earns him a serious one-on-one talk with the Hogwarts’ headmaster, Edward Newgate, and while the man doesn’t yell or threaten the wee first year in any way, he does express his concerns with Law’s socially questionable behavior and tells him that he is deeply disappointed by it – after all, Hogwarts is famous for its friendly environment. Law only rolls his eyes at the old man’s supposed scolding, but the moment Rocinante gets brought into their conversation, his shoulders sag. Law averts his gaze in overwhelming shame once Newgate informs him that Corazon isn’t handling Law’s problematic behavior all too well, along with the multiple angry letters that he receives from the injured kids’ parents.
When Law finally meets the headmaster’s dark eyes and says “I apologize, I won’t ever do it again,” he means it wholeheartedly. The old man probably senses the honesty in that statement as well and Law notices his massive mustache quirking upwards, just barely – an indication that he is smiling now that they’ve reached a consensus.
Law’s first year ends with him being at the top of their entire year grade-wise, and while Ravenclaw fails to win the house cup, no one blames him too much for it, happy that the cup at least ended up in the hands of the ecstatic Hufflepuffs – they won it off Slytherin by a mere three points.
Corazon still has some work to do but sees the kid off at the Hogsmeade station nevertheless, reminding Law to mind his tone around Vergo, who is to pick them up at King’s Cross. He then hands Law his lunch and shoves a little box into his small hands.
“Promise to only open it once you’re fully settled in your compartment, alright?” Corazon asks, and upon Law’s stiff nod, he ruffles the boy’s fluffy hair, making Law squawk indignantly. His cheeks feel too warm when he notices some students staring their way, eyebrows quirked – it’s strange to see the school’s terror handled so familiarly, by a teacher no less. He glares them away and swats at Corazon’s wide palm.
“Not in public,” he hisses, flushing even more when the man laughs at his lame excuse for a threat. Quieter, he adds “I promise.”
Corazon smiles, nodding to himself, while Law fidgets with the gift, holding it closer to his chest. The package isn’t heavy, shabbily wrapped up in light brown paper and held together by a white string. He awkwardly stands around, reluctant to part with Rocinante just yet, dreading the thought of returning to Mariejois, to Doflamingo’s ancient mansion, and then restlessly waiting for Corazon’s return to the place he does not dare to refer to as home. The man doesn’t turn on his heel, nor does he show any intention of leaving Law behind, which confuses the boy greatly because they’ve already said their goodbyes. Corazon literally has no other reason to wait for Law to drag his small suitcase to the gigantic red train, its engine already working – a sign for the lingering students to hurry up and board it.
Corazon places his hands on his hips, straightening up to tower over the students and nudging Law with the tip of his boot. “Alright then, now that that’s settled, be on your way. Go!” he shoos the boy away with his hands. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, Law. Try not to burn down the mansion by then.”
“We’ll see about that,” Law huffs, lightly kicks at Corazon’s leg, and finally boards the express, sticking out his tongue at the lingering man. He’s only a little upset about the rude dismissal, pride damaged at being treated like the little kid that he is - but who is Law to question the actions of that shady man?
Thanks to his unfavorable reputation, Law manages to get a compartment all to himself and sits down by the window, leaning against it. He squints against the blinding rays of the early summer sun as he watches Rocinante turn into a humanoid shape in the distance, ceaselessly waving right until the train is completely out of sight. Seeing Law off properly as a family member would.
It makes his chest constrict in a strange, long-since-forgotten way and his skin crawls none too pleasantly. To distract himself from these foreign sensations, Law refocuses his attention on the package innocently resting in his lap. He fiddles with the string and carelessly peels off the sandwich paper, hesitantly opening the lid of the green box.
Inside, there’s a white, fluffy hat with dark spots adorning its sides. Law’s jaw drops when he gingerly picks it up, feeling along the soft texture.
It looks just like the one that he used to own, by now too dirty and worn down to wear in public, its fur falling out in chunks. The only difference lies in its design - this one is shaped like a cap. Law hesitantly pulls it on, checking out his faint reflection in the window. It fits perfectly, as though it was specifically tailored for him to wear and he belatedly realizes that it probably was.
Corazon gifted him a hat.
As though lost in a pleasant dream, Law unfolds the note that was placed beneath the present, eyes flying over the neatly woven words, barely registering any of them, hands clenching and unclenching on the parchment. The message is rather lengthy. Law places the parchment aside upon reaching the most important, life-changing sentences of Corazon’s letter.
“I’ll pick you up from the mansion once I finally purchase the house in Dressrosa and move my office there. It’ll be just you and me, Law.”
Law curls up on the plush bench and breathes for what seems to be the first time in years, unwilling to believe his luck just yet.
Corazon has set them free.
Dressrosa is a port city of flourish and entertainment but their house is located far away from the ever-present noise and glamour, in a neighborhood filled with more than enough wizard families in disguise. Everyone seems nice and accepting. Corazon ends up loving it even more than Law does, still not quite fully accustomed to the normalcy of it all, to this drastic change of scenery.
He doesn’t miss the comfortable lifestyle of Doflamingo’s blasted mansion, far more content with the little house in the suburbs with sunflowers growing in the backyard and the lawns smelling of dried grass, summer’s heat. He helps Corazon around the house, muggle-style – his “guardian” insists on keeping a low profile, and using magic for easy, mundane tasks is the exact opposite of that. For the very first time, Law actually feels his own age, no longer forced into visiting places that he despises or doing things against his will.
Corazon had fully convinced his brother to let him and Law go, lying through his teeth about Law’s problematic behavior and instability directly affecting his magic. He promised Doflamingo to break down the kid’s rebellious spirit and return a full-fledged warrior, ready to do Joker’s bidding upon command. The older Donquixote seemingly held no interest in Law’s current potential but deemed the troublesome kid worthy enough of this chance, worth the hassle and the inconveniences that followed, unwilling to pass up the promising opportunity of gaining a loyal follower. Without much thought, he struck a bargain with his younger brother – he’d gladly grant Law some freedom only if the boy promised to return to Mariejois at least thrice a year for the bigger “family events”. Of course, in exchange, he expected Rocinante to visit far more often, a thing that seemingly didn’t bother the latter in the slightest. He readily agreed to Doflamingo’s insignificant terms, thinking of Law’s childhood and nothing else. The boy deserved a normal life that he’s been robbed of ever since Flevance.
Their next-door neighbors are really kind and helpful in every way imaginable. Law somehow ends up being roped into weekly dinners at Dolds' – probably a good thing to happen because Corazon is an awful cook at best and they can only handle so many Chinese take-outs – and then becomes unlikely friends with the Dolds' girls. Viola is a few years older and studies in a different wizardry school called Beauxbatons which is located in Europe. While she and Law aren’t exactly close, there’s at least no animosity between them so their conversations are alright despite the lapsing, awkward silences every now and then. While Viola’s companionship doesn’t make Law a better person per se, it at least manages to convince him that not all kids instantly view him as a threat.
Her niece Rebecca is three years Law’s junior and the sole reason why he and Viola started talking in the first place. The pink-haired girl is bubbly and unbearably curious, often winding up in unsafe situations, forcing her seniors to look out for her - in Law’s case, unwillingly. The moment Rebecca slipped off the branch of a tree dividing their backyards and Law dived in to catch her at the same time as Viola, his fate had been sealed.
Rebecca often asks Law about Hogwarts and its different system. It appears that there are no such things as houses in Beauxbatons - from the sound of it, that place seems more akin to a muggle boarding school instead of a magic one - and she always states that she’ll be attending Hogwarts, finding Beauxbatons rather boring in comparison. After all, it doesn’t have any moving staircases, ghosts, or talking paintings asking for passwords, waiting to be tickled in the right places in exchange for granting entry to the common rooms.
And when both families – family, Law thinks, is a strange concept to muse over, and an even stranger term to hear considering that Corazon is just a mere benefactor of his, despite him posing as Law’s legal guardian – visit the Diagon Alley to purchase new supplies for the upcoming school year, Law concludes that his current life isn’t too terrible, immediately grabbing the back of his benefactor’s extravagant, feathered coat to steady him before the man can kiss the cobblestoned street.