Chapter Text
Fawx woke up to the sound of a loud bang and distant screaming, blearily blinking his eyes open. The newly amputated eleven year old sat up with a groan. He rubbed at his eyes with a yawn and pulled the light blanket over his shoulder, glaring indifferently at the steady stream of cold air coming from his open doors.
He pulled his body over the edge carefully, making sure the wrappings didn't get caught on anything. He pulled his skinny frame onto the wheelchair. He used his good leg to help push him away from the bed as he wheeled himself into the kitchen, glancing at the clock briefly. With a rumble of his belly, Fawx managed to grab a poptart, albeit a bit awkwardly since he had to stand on one leg to get it. There was a loud stomping of feet as two younger kids flew inside yelling, "Fawx! Fawx! You’re magical!"
Said boy blinked in surprise as his younger siblings, Alexis and Ethan, four and five years younger to his eleven respectively. They were grabbing his wheelchair and pushing him to the living room. He let out a loud "oi!" in indignation at being dragged away for what he thought was a dumb prank. After several loud thumps as the wheels went up and down the uneven floor, Fawx and his siblings arrived into the cluttered living room. Fawx’s mother, a stern looking woman with deep lines set into her face and orange hair held in a tight bun, was standing next to a frizzy haired woman in a weird set of robes that seemed to have shooting stars flashing across them. His mother held a burning cigarette in her yellowed hand. Her eyes were glaring daggers into him, what did you do now.
The robed woman stepped forward with a smile, her hands holding a grouping of paper. “Hello Mr. Wilson, I’m Professor Missymew, headmistress of Underwood Witchcraft and Wizardry.” The thick bundle of paper was handed to him, Fawx almost dropping it in the process when the picture on the front moved .
“What-” he cut himself off, examining the pages more. The words moved about on the pages, making the text a bit hard to read.
“Now I’m certain that you have many questions, but don’t fret ! The text I just handed to you should explain plenty.”
“I certainly wish it could,” he muttered. His mother flicked ashes at him. He winced to keep them out of his eyes. While it was clear that she didn’t appreciate his tone, she didn’t go further with any sort of verbal warning. She didn’t need to.
“Mr. Wilson, I’m here to accept you to Underwood Witchcraft and Wizardry, if it would please you.” As she spoke, there was a soft smile on her face. She was welcoming, yet visibly put off by his mother.
“You- you think I belong in your magic school? Are you playin’ a prank on me or somethin’?” he asked in bewilderment, flipping through the pamphlet and scrunching his nose up at the weird words in it, what’s a hippogriff anyway?
Missymew gave a tittering laugh, “Oh no dearie, magic is quite real. Have you ever noticed strange things happening around you? Things you could never explain?” Fawx hesitated at that, his mind flashing to random instances of the countless times he almost fell down the stairs and ended at the bottom safely, or his things being broken by his younger siblings when they would end up repaired the next day. He knew it wasn’t his parents.
“Uh, I-I guess-”
“That’s your magic at work, young man!” Missymew cheered.
“Uh, perhaps.” He paused, looking down at the papers more to examine them. “And let’s say I did wanna go to this fancy magic school, what would I need anyway?” He asked, glancing up at Missymew.
“Ah yes, you would need your letter, typically that arrives by owl post but none seemed to have found your exact location, dearie.” A flash of something went across her face, but it went too fast for Fawx to have noticed even if he was looking at her.
With a wave of her stick - a wand Fawx now realized - the letter appeared with a quiet crackle on his lap. He flinched slightly at the noise before picking it up and looking at it with curiosity. Heather moved over to him to read the front of the enveloper herself, one hand going through his spiky brown hair, causing the small boy to flinch and pull away.
Missymew’s smile became a little bit more fixed after noticing Fawx’s actions. “Of course you’ll need to get all of your school items at your local shopping area. The location should be in your letter with muggle directions.”
Heather frowned at that, snatching up the pamphlet and flicking through it. “Well... at least it aint too far, we’ll be able to drive you there after Ethan’s practice on Thursday. How much money will this stuff be again?” She asked, glancing down at the letter still in Fawx’s hands.
“Well, the current exchange rate is every Galleon is equal to 10 muggle dollars, a sickle every 1, and a knut would be roughly 50 cents.” Missymew explained, clapping her hands together. “Of course, if you can't buy all the necessary equipment you can apply for our muggleborn scholarship, although a blood test will be needed.”
Heather looked down at the document in her hands, nodding her head slowly, her mouth open slightly. “Huh.” She flipped a few pages. “Hmm.” A few more. “Interesting. Well, I’m afraid we’ll have to think about it. Thank you.”
Missymew smiled warmly. “I look forward to seeing you at Underwood!” She lifted her robe while she walked toward the door, waving at Heather as she left. Heather gave a small smile to her, shutting the door gently behind Missymew. Once the door was shut and Missymew was far from the walkway, Heather turned around, her face cold again.
“What the fuck was that.”
“I don’t-”
“You know that you aren’t magical or whatever the fuck she was saying. You’re normal just like the rest of us.”
Fawx put his head down.
She slammed the pamphlet on a nearby table and snatched the envelope from his lap. She grabbed his jaw. “Look at me when I speak to you.”
Fawx’s eyes flashed open instinctively. She took the letter at both top corners, sneered at him, and ripped the letter in half. In half a second time. And a third, fourth, fifth. Once she was done, she threw it at the base of his wheelchair. “Now, since you’re so fucking magical, use your voodoo shit and clean up the mess you made me make.” She stormed out of the room to the kitchen, bringing the pamphlet with her. An eerie silence filled the walkway.
Fawx sat in his chair, his head down again. He sat with his arms crossed, hands on his arms, hugging himself. He strained to listen to any noise coming from anywhere in the house, but everything was dead silent. It was as if the floors thought she’d yell at them next if a board so much as creaked. No one came to reassure him, no one came to help him clean, no one did anything. He was alone in the living room, some ripped up paper at his feet that he could barely reach without falling out of his wheelchair.
Suddenly the pieces swirled up into the air, Fawx sucking in a sharp breath as he watched, piecing themselves back together as the letter floated back into his lap. He quickly glanced around before quietly turning himself around and making his way into the bathroom to hide. Shaking slightly he opened the letter slowly, body tensed up as he heard stomping going on outside the door, he looked down at the letter, holding his breath.
Welcome to Underwood of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Peter Rumbleroar
Headmistress: Linda Missymew
Dear Mr. Wilson
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Underwood of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on the 1st of August. We await your reply by no later than July 16th.
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
- Three sets of plain work robes (black)
- A respective wardrobe for class and day use
- One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
- One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry proof of ownership.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration
by Emeric Switch
Spells For The Mind And Body
by Prinley Zoy
Magical Drafts and Potions
by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad .
6th Graders are NOT allowed a broom.
Yours Sincerely,
Professor Missymew
Fawx jumped slightly at the sudden loud banging on the door, “Get outta the bathroom! You're not the only one in this damn house.” Heather yelled through the door before stomping away as the front door slammed shut. Fawx let out a shuddering breath, putting the letter underneath his leg before wheeling out of the small space and back towards his cold room.
A few hours passed by, the time filled with Fawx folding and refolding the letter over and over again along with him reading the small amount of books he had on hand. Dinner finally arrived, and with it Cliff, his stepdad. Fawx came wheeling into the kitchen, watching discreetly as Heather went outside with some distant yelling before cautiously rolling up to Cliff.
“Uh, hey, dad, I was wondering, if uhh…” Fawx toyed around with the letter in his pocket. He brought it out carefully, handing it to Cliff. “Well, just read this.” Fawx wiggled nervously, handing the letter to the grizzly man.
Cliff took the letter, setting his drink down and reading the letter with a small frown. “Did ya write this letter or..?”
“Well uh, no, a lady came over and said I was a wizard, like I could do magic, and that's why weird stuff always happen around me. Like... that time I dropped a glass and it broke but when you started to yell it fixed itself.” Cliff paused for a moment, ruminating, his face suggesting that he remembered the event. “There’s a shopping place I have to go to, and was wondering if I could go. Forrest Road I think it's called, I bet the stuff isn't that much, and I can do stuff like clean the house or something to make up for the price if I need too.” Fawx rambled, shaking slightly from anxiety.
Cliff looked down at the letter before looking back up at Fawx. He had a smile on his face that suggested he thought that this was all made up, some elaborate joke that Fawx was putting on. He spoke condescendingly. “Well, I’ll be free this Saturday, and Heather will be at Ethan’s tournament that day. If this place does actually exist, we can go and check it out and get your stuff. We ain’t doin’ it if it’s too expensive though, got it?”
Fawx visibly relaxed at that and flashed Cliff a quick grin, “Yeah! Yeah, that's great, thank you, Dad.” He said quickly before wheeling off to his room before Cliff could take back his offer.
The next couple of days passed by in a blur, Fawx doing the same things day in and day out. Finally it was Saturday and Heather left the house with a tired Alexis and a grumpy Ethan in tow. Fawx woke up, rubbing his eyes with a yawn before the realization of what day it was hit him in the face. The crippled boy quickly pulled himself into his wheelchair and rolled into the living room, snatching up the pamphlet from the runner, while shaking yet again from excitement and anxiety.
Cliff looked away from some cartoons on the TV, a cup of coffee in his hands before sighing, “Alright, let's go then.” With a little bit of help, Fawx got outside and into the car. They were soon on the road. Trees flashed by and there was an unfamiliar rock song on the radio that Fawx let his mind run wild to. What was happening? What could happen once he attended the school and could perform magic?
After what seemed like forever, they turned down a small road and pulled up to a simple market that looked similar to a flea market that usually popped up during this time of the year. “Well here it is, maybe we’ll find your stuff in this maze.” Cliff said in a frustrated sigh, helping Fawx out of the car and into his wheelchair with a huff.
Both of them traversed the aisles looking at the wares, and it wasn’t until a big ball of doubt and anxiety went swirling around in Fawx’s stomach that they walked through what felt a wall of static and laid their eyes on Forrest Road.
Fawx let out a shuddering breath, eyes dancing around at the stalls and the obvious signs of magic. There were what seemed to be flapping books in one stall, a whole area filled with cats, and owls, and all sorts of other creatures and wait is that a broom-
“Well, it seemed that letter was actually right.” Cliff said weakly, eyes flicking back and forth between the stalls. He spoke slowly, alerted that the location was factual. He hadn’t necessarily prepared his wallet, and was growing nervous about just how much the price tags would read. Unaware of his behavior, Fawx grinned and pulled out the letter from his pocket along with the pamphlet that he snatched earlier that morning. “Okay, so, we need to go to Gringotts to exchange our money for galleons and sickles, then we can buy my supplies.”
“You, uh, you should show me everything you need first. I need estimates. Remember, if we can’t afford it then nothing’s happening.”
Fawx nodded his head in agreement, wheeling up to the grand building. The pillars and the architecture vaguely reminding the small boy about Roman temples and some buildings in New York. His jaw dropped in surprise upon spotting the weird creatures that looked like a weird cross between a savage gremlin and a human. He was suddenly pushed inside by the shocked Cliff, removing him from the spectacle.
Fawx rolled up to a desk, swallowing forcefully, before saying, “Uh, hello, I’m, er, looking to try out for the muggleborn scholarship?” He glanced around the room, at anything but the goblin. It looked down at him before sniffing and calling out something that sounded an awful lot like a cat coughing up a hairball.
Another goblin came over, responding in the same guttural language before switching to English in a thick, gravelly voice, “Follow me, sirs, and we can do a blood test to verify your claim as a muggleborn to accept the scholarship.”
Fawx froze slightly before the words registered. After pausing, flustered, he quickly wheeled after the surprisingly fast goblin. Although, who was he to assume how fast anything was with magic? They were led down a seemingly endless amount of hallways that looked exactly the same. By exactly, Fawx is certain that he’s seen that same spiderweb ten times now.
Eventually, they were led to a room that definitely shouldn’t have fit inside the building along with all those hallways, and that’s not even including the possible vaults. “So, Mr. Wilson, we’ll just need you to give us a small sample of your blood to determine if you are eligible for the vault, along with any other information it might include. Now, you can either do this with your guardian here or alone.”
Fawx glanced up at Cliff, who admittedly looked like he was on the edge of either snapping or, well, Fawx doesn’t even know what. “I-I would like to do it alone,” he stammered, glancing up nervously. Cliff looked down at Fawx for a few seconds before stiffly nodding his head and walking outside the room.
The goblin sneered down at the anxious boy before pulling out a fancily adorned dagger and handing it to the young wizard. “Just cut your palm and pour a few drops onto this paper. It’ll determine your blood status among other related things that might concern gringotts,” the goblin growled out, pushing the paper forward with clawlike hands.
Fawx gulped and picked up the dagger, hand shaking slightly as he quickly slid it across his palm with a sharp breath and watched as the blood rolled onto the parchment. He quickly drew his hand back and held the thin cut with his shirt to stop the blood. He watched with high interest as words seemed to spill across the page.
Fawx Conner Wilson
Heir to the Pureblood House of Wilson
Inherited to the Vaults #240, #580, and #960
In a numerical order, vaults contain:
- 349,135 galleons and other items encompassed in the family vault
- 663,994 galleons encompassed in the David Wilson vault
- 253,458 galleons in the trust vault for Underwood School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Fawx’s breath caught in his throat, reading the paper over and over again as an overwhelming sense of emotion crashed into him like a tidal wave. The goblin snatched the paper back, giving a feral grin that looked like it belonged much more on a wolf than the humanoid creature. “Well Mr. Wilson, it seems ur not eligible for the scholarship after all. Although you have plenty of vaults to choose from, the vaults other than your trust vault can only be accessed once you hit the inheritance age.”
Fawx blinked numbly at the goblin, struggling to comprehend on what the fuck is happening- “Would you like to go down towards your trust vault, Mr. Wilson?” The goblin asked, clicking his claws together as he looked down upon the small wizard.
Fawx hesitated for a moment before nodding his head slightly, “Will, uh, will my ste- my guardian have to come with me as well?”
“Why of course not, Mr. Wilson. You’re in charge of your vaults and can decide who has access to them as you please.”
He let out a sharp breath, running his fingers through his bushy hair before nodding his head, and following the goblin out of the room. It was an information overload for the young wizard, his head spinning with all the sudden information. He was a lord? How was he even a lord- oh fuck, wait, it’s the dwarf thumbs. He glanced down at his abnormally small thumbs and wiggled them slightly to his amusement.
“Are we done here?” A gruff voice broke him out of his musings. Fawx glanced up, startled, before wheeling over. It was Cliff.
“Ah, no, uh, we have to go to a vault to get the, erm, money for my scholarship.” Fawx stuttered out, glancing back down at his thumbs and letting out a small giggle.
Cliff glared down at the small boy before sniffing, “Fine then, do I have to come along with?”
The goblin clicked his teeth together, “Muggles are not allowed into the vaults of gringotts, it’s very… dangerous to those without a magical core. Now, come along, Mr. Wilson, and we can retrieve your money.”
Fawx nodded his head, glancing back for a moment as he watched Cliff being led off by another goblin. The young wizard was eventually led to what looked to be a minecart, and after pushing himself up the ramp of the door, he was in it. The goblin in front seat of the cart reached over and clicked a button, chains coming over the wheels of the boys chair and wrapping around it, keeping him securely in place.
With a pointy smirk, the goblin released the breaks. The ride started with a jolt, quickly picking up speed as it went down a sharp incline. Fawx would be lying if he said he didn’t scream in fright at first. He felt as if he was on the world’s fastest roller coaster. Everything in the tunnel he was traversing through whipped by him, some things being exposed rock from when the tunnel was originally mined out, some rocks appearing crystalline enough to be gemstones, along with sparse wood panels from the past miner’s construction. As they descended lower, the air became crisper, cooler. There was also less and less light, forcing Fawx to keep his eyes forward. Eventually, a light shone in the distance, and he plummeted into it. It was a hallway much like the tunnel he was just shot down, but with more refined wooden door frames around vault doors, all of the doors numbered in gold-plated iron. The goblin pressed a button that gradually slowed the cart to a stop, where he was in front of his trust vault, #960.
The goblin released his wheelchair from the chains. Letting out a shaky breath, Fawx wheeled out of the cart, following after the goblin, as it used its claws to open up the metal doors. A knife cutting through butter.
Fawx’s jaw dropped as his icy blue eyes landed upon the stacks of gold. He pushed himself slightly into the vault, gazed excitedly around as he realized vaguely, overwhelmed, that the pile reached the ceiling. The goblin made an impatient growl, causing Fawx to jump slightly. Wheeling himself closer, Fawx scooped up several handfuls of gold, stuffing them into his jacket pockets before quickly leaving.
The ride back up was just as exhilarating as the last, although his anxiety and excitement to see the shops far outweighed the fun of riding on the pseudo rollercoaster. With slightly shaking arms, Fawx wheeled himself out of the metal contraption and into the main chamber. Spotting Cliff, the small boy rolled over anxiously.
Cliff glared down. “You got that shit you needed?”
“Y-yeah, it’s in my pockets.” Fawx reached his hands in, covering the money with his palms. He didn’t want Cliff to know just how much he had in there. He was still getting over the amount himself. “We should go buy the things that I need.”
Cliff grunted in response before walking out of the goblin-run facility and into the warm sun outside. Fawx wheeled himself across the stone road, Cliff going over to look at a cluttered store that seemed to be filled with whizzing gears and other tools. Fawx paused near him and pulled out his list, glancing it over before looking around and spotting a bookstore that was advertising 6th grade books for Underwood. Finally, I’m here!