Chapter Text
"I am here today to discuss your acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am the potions professor there, you may address me as Professor Snape or sir," Snape announced as he entered the room. The boy in front of him was noticeably thin, more so than the other children he had seen at this orphanage. What little skin he could see was either remarkably pale or discolored with bruises. If he hadn't been informed the boy was recently twelve years old, he would guess he was no older than ten.
Snape reached into the inner pocket of his robes, pulling out an envelope sealed with the waxed Hogwarts crest, and held it out for the boy to take. "Given your position, I have taken the time to speak to the Matron about financial expectations and applicable aid you may receive." He paused, giving him an assessment look before continuing, "Students typically begin their study at the age of eleven, when their magical core first stabilizes. Although uncommon, your core only recently stabilized and you will join your peers a year older. If you have questions, it would be best to speak them now."
The boy, Thomas Kulig, held the letter in both hands. There was a moment that his eyes took on a harrowed look, implying age he shouldn't have experienced. After a few moments of consideration, he softly asked "How will I receive the supplies for school? And can I see the details for the financial aid?" Of all the questions, Snape had not expected either. He had been expecting questions regarding the validity of the letter or the subjects taught at Hogwarts, but these questions were mature. Thought through in a way that was not expected of a child.
"I will be escorting you to the wizarding shopping center, Diagon Alley, in one week's time on August 29th. You will be ready to depart at 9AM. As for the financial details, I will provide the Matron with an additional copy once they have been finalized. Is there anything else you wish to ask?"
Thomas considered for a moment, "No, thank you for your time, professor. I look forward to meeting with you again." His answer was succinct, leaving little room for elaboration.
Snape peered down his nose at the boy a moment longer, briefly noting the lack of fidgeting and the still unopened letter. "Should you think of any, I will answer them on the 29th." He gave a nod towards the boy as he exited the room, swinging the door shut behind him.
Thomas sat on the edge of the tattered bed, staring at the envelope in his hands. The address line alone was questionable, not that he had seen any letters in this life, but this was too specific.
Thomas Kulig
Cardiff, Wales
St. Thomas Children's' Home
Bell Tower Closet
He turned the letter in his hands and ran his fingers over the wax seal. Slowly, he broke the crest and removed the letter from the envelope. His eyes skimmed over the standardized introductory paragraph and the following list of required materials.
Thomas sighed as he tossed the letter on the floor. He wondered if his consciousness was interfering with the order of events. About 8 months ago he experienced the uncanny feeling of waking up without having fallen asleep. Before that he was Knight of the Realms, a vessel for the High Lady; one of her many unfortunate servants to meet an untimely death at a ripe age. He had never put much stake in the mages of his last life, they were always hiding in their towers, dictating what should be done from afar. Despite thinking them useless, he did learn how to feel the flow of the magiks they used, something he had felt here only in himself until that professor came along
He flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The prospect of attending a boarding school, of any sorts, most months of the year was definitely preferable to freezing in this damn bell tower. Although there didn't seem to be a choice on whether he would attend or not; that professor spoke as if his attendance was guaranteed.
So far it seemed the rules of this world were far different from his own. Where sorcery enabled everyday tasks before, technological advancements were in the forefront here. Was there a complete segregation of the magicks and the techs? More information would be revealed with his trip on the 29th, he supposed, no use stressing about it now.
He flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The prospect of attending a boarding school, of any sorts, most months of the year was definitely preferable to freezing in this damn bell tower. Although there didn't seem to be a choice on whether he would attend or not; that professor spoke as if his attendance was guaranteed.
So far it seemed the rules of this world were far different from his own. Where sorcery enabled everyday tasks before, technological advancements were in the forefront here. Was there a complete segregation of the magicks and the techs? More information would be revealed with his trip on the 29th, he supposed, no use stressing about it now.
The morning of the 29th took far too long to arrive. Completing his chores for the Home had never been so tedious. The other children had noticed his newfound impatience and had begun to harass him about his 'prestigious boarding school'. His temper, which has been unfortunately short in this body, had additionally been releasing itself in magikal ways. Sean, who had tripped him in the stairwell, found his shoes stuck to the floor. Ely, who served him half portions at meals, found holes in his spoons and flat edges to his knives. Jesse, being in charge of washing, found his clothes never dried fully. Thomas was able to connect his emotional sensitivity with the increase of odd occurrences but did nothing to try to correct it.
That morning saw Thomas dressing in his best fitting clothes, unable to completely disguise the second-hand attributes. He sat on the front steps of the Home as he waited for the professor to return. A loud crack broke through the ambient sounds of the city. The professor strode towards him down the cobblestone walkway. Thomas surged to his feet in time with the professor reaching the bottom of the stairs. For a moment they were the same height, then he descended the steps to stand beside him.
Snape gave the boy a once over, "I presume you are prepared?"
"Yes, professor," he replied.
"Good. We will be apparating directly to our first stop; Gringotts, the wizard bank. Take my arm." Snape held out his left arm for the boy.
Thomas glanced at the arm then took a firm hold on it. He had just enough time to wonder what it meant to apparate before the world around him spun away. For the briefest of moments there was an immense pressure surrounding him, like being underwater but hundreds of times worse. Just as quickly as it arrived, it vanished. The ground was under his feet once again and his vision spun to a stop. The experience was similar to the recall runes of his last life, although here there seemed to be more freedom on where and when it worked.
The floor they now stood on was smooth dark tile, bordered by a row of white. A designated landing zone of some sort then? They certainly hadn't left from anywhere specific. Thomas turned to the professor to ask about what he had just experienced, right as the man began to stride forward straight to one of the high wooden counters. Thomas was quick to follow, he suspected this professor might leave him behind if he strayed too far.
When they reached the counter, they were addressed by a wrinkled creature with a very distinct nose and ears. "State your business," the creature's voice was ambiguous, sounding neither male nor female.
"Thomas Kulig is here to complete his forms," Snape said.
"Yes, professor," he replied.
"Very well, please wait," the creature began sifting through a filing cabinet, producing a folder after a moment. "Please confirm your name and date of birth."
"Thomas Kulig, August first, 1979" he replied.
The creature placed a document on the counter in front of him. "This form outlines the terms of agreement for your student loan. I will summarize the text. As agreed upon by both Gringotts and Hogwarts, you will be receiving an initial amount of 50 Galleons to be used for school supplies. This amount can be paid back at any time and will not accrue interest until you reach the age of majority. Full payment is expected within one year of your graduation unless otherwise negotiated. When you are ready to sign, place your non-dominant hand here and sign on the line." With that last sentence, the creature pointed to a flat square stone on the left side of the counter and provided a quill and ink.
Thomas barely refrained from glaring at the offending writing implement. He thought he had escaped the use of those infernal devices with his transfer to this world but apparently not. Just how reliant on magiks were the wizards that such a simple piece of technology has been overlooked? He didn't bother reading through the document, figuring any drastic repercussions could wait until he learned more about this world, just picked up the quill and signed where indicated. As he finished his signature the stone under his left hand briefly glowed a pale blue.
The creature took back the document and passed over a small pouch of what he could only assume were coins. They spoke again, "It is done. As agreed, here is your loan. Thank you for your business," and with that they slid closed a metal gate between the two sides of the counter and disappeared behind the desk.
Thomas took the bag of coins and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. He turned to the professor, "How much is a Galleon?"
Snape began walking towards the exit of the building before answering, "There are 29 Knuts in a Sickle and 17 Sickles in a Galleon. Currently the Galleon is worth about 5 British Pounds but that can change. We will be getting your robe measurements next, keep up."
They passed through the wide double doors and onto the large front steps of the building. In Front of them was a busy street with all sorts of people in various levels of dress. Businessmen rushing by in fancy robes, exasperated mothers with their children, groups of school age teens left unsupervised while their guardians shopped. Many of the shops they passed had exterior displays of their wares; he particularly liked the ones that flew through the air or beckoned passerby into the shop. Despite the diversity in clothing, he couldn't help but feel out of place amongst the crowd. At least he wasn't gawking at everything they passed as he was sure some did.
The shop Snape turned to had a large window display featuring a set of dress robes that glistened in the midmorning sun. Above the display was a sign that read Madam Malkin's in large golden letters and below that in smaller letters; Robes for All Occasions. A bell chimed as they crossed the threshold and a woman's voice called out from somewhere unseen, "Just a moment!" There was the muffled sound of rustling fabric and a dull thunk of something being set down on a hard surface. A squat woman with a friendly face and well fitting maroon robes appeared in the doorway. "Ah, Professor Snape, lovely to see you again! And who is this young lad with you today?"
"Thomas Kulig, ma'am. I'm entering my first year at Hogwarts," he took the initiative to speak, first impressions are important after all.
"This is the special case you were owled about. I expect the proposal was agreeable?" Snape said.
"Oh, of course! Right this way, dearie, stand on that raised platform there and jacket off please. You poor thing, it must be so hard being all alone in a new place. But rest assured; you're in good hands with Professor Snape. And you really can't go wrong with Hogwarts, really it's the best school for a young wizard," Madam Malkin prattled on as her tape measure took various measurements. It had started with common measurements—chest, waist, inseam—but grew more and more obscure as he was left unattended. By the time Madam Malkin presented a set of robes, her tape measure had measured the length of eight of his fingers. "Here you are dear. These should fit you quite well by the end of the year. I know how much you young boys like to grow, just give me a visit next and I'll let out the hem."
"Thank you," Thomas replied automatically. He still felt caught in her whirlwind of activity and all the magic residue he could feel hanging in the air. When he fumbled the bag of coins the second time, the professor took pity on him—or perhaps it was impatience—and portioned out the correct payment. He made a mental note to avoid sensing the surrounding magic unless needed.
Madam Malkin bid us goodbye as we exited the shop back onto the busy street. The professor wasted no time before striding in the direction of our next destination.
They spent the morning visiting various shops collecting school supplies. Fortunately, most of the shops had a discounted section for items that had been returned in passable condition. So far the Apothecary was the only place Snape had actively steered him in the direction of the new products. With how many stops they had made, he was grateful for the slightly battered, wheeled trunk that held his purchases. Thomas paused for a moment, glancing up at the sun's position; it was either almost noon or just past it. He wondered if the professor would stop somewhere for lunch—seemed unlikely—or if he would simply drop him at the Home to fend for himself.
"There is one more stop, do not start dawdling now," Snape had turned to face him, giving him a stern look to match his tone.
Thomas hurried to catch up. "Sorry, professor."
Their last stop turned out to be a dim shop titled Ollivander's Wand Emporium. The walls were lined with dozens of small shelves containing what looked like hundreds of long thin boxes. A fine layer of dust coated some of the boxes but most of them looked recently handled. Behind the counter was a wrinkled old man whose white hair stood in nearly all directions.
"Young Severus Snape, it feels like just yesterday you were here with Eileen for your wand; ebony, dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches. Are you escorting your own child already?" The old man spoke to them but hardly glanced in their direction.
"You are mistaken. I am escorting this student on the behalf of Hogwarts," Snape's tone was clipped. "I will be outside when you are finished." He exited the shop before Thomas could fully process the interaction.
"Alright, my boy, let's not keep him waiting," the old man got his attention and presented him with an opened box. Inside was a sleek black wand. He picked it up and rolled it back and forth between his fingers. When nothing happened, he looked at the old man with a raised eyebrow. "Well, give it a wave." Thomas did exactly that, resulting in the shop lights to flicker out momentarily. He put the wand back in the box.
The next eight wands either had no reaction or similarly negative ones; knocking over piles of boxes, producing a bright flash of light or deafening sound, shocking or burning his hand before he could pick it up, and—the one he felt the worst about—dousing the old man in a jet of water. The water was cleaned up with a quick wave of the old man's own wand before he disappeared into the rows of shelves, muttering to himself the whole way. Thomas was starting to get annoyed. There had to be a way to make this go faster; maybe the different wands feel different magically? He went to the closest shelf, closed his eyes, and opened his senses. Most of the wands felt like very little—good or bad—while some seemed to push him away or pull at his attention. He drifted through the shelves, navigating mostly by sense until he found a particular wand that felt like coming home.
He opened his eyes. The wand boxes in this section were almost all coated in dust. He slid the lid off the box in his hand. The wand inside was a pale tan and shorter than the others the old man had given him. He picked it up gingerly. The wand fit in his hand like an extension of his arm; the feeling of homecoming he had sensed earlier intensified.
"The wand chooses the wizard but sometimes they choose each other," the old man appeared next to him, his voice almost a whisper, "Go on then, give it a wave."
This time Thomas felt no apprehension and gave the wand a wave. A strong wind curled around him for a moment, nearly lifting him off his feet, before dissipating and leaving his hair disheveled and a smile on his face. "Is that what should happen?" he asked.
"It is different for everyone but it is that moment I enjoy seeing the most. That wand—beechwood, phoenix feather, nine and a quarter inches—is rather selective with its wielder, I'm glad to see it paired. Come, let's go up front and get everything sorted."
He turned and started walking. Thomas hadn't realized how far he had traveled while blindly sensing around and was thankful the old man wasn't upset with him for intruding. He listened to the care instructions, handed over payment, and wished the wandmaker a good day before stepping out of the shop to find Snape.
An hour later saw him sitting in the shade of the one large tree the Home had in its yard; mentally reviewing the information he learned today. Professor Snape was not the most forthcoming with information but had answered his questions diligently. The only thing he wished he knew more about was how exactly to get to platform 9 3/4. Apparently he was to find and join another student being escorted to the platform by a staff member. Thomas had never seen King's Cross Station but finding a specific adult/child pair he had never met in a very busy place seemed improbable. That was a problem for the future, for now he only had to worry about the jeers from the other children.
The Matron saw him off as far as the bus leaving Cardiff to King's Cross. From there he was on his own which was preferable to Thomas. The bus ride passed quickly and soon he was lugging his trunk behind him off the bus. He took a few steps to the side and looked around. Cars were queued up to unload their passengers, families and friends saying their goodbyes. He looked to his left and almost couldn't believe what he saw. A boy about his age holding a caged owl as a large angry man unloaded a trunk from their car. 'What are the odds?' he wondered as he walked over to the boy after the car sped away.
"Hello. Are you attending Hogwarts this year?" Thomas asked as he approached the other boy.
"Yeah, I'm supposed to meet Hagrid here," the boy said slowly, glancing around with a lost look, "I, er, don't see him anywhere though."
Well that was less than helpful. "I was told to meet him here too. Let's look for him together. My name is Thomas Kulig, by the way, pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand to the boy.
The boy took his hand, "I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you."
They made their way into the station, pulling their trunks along behind them. Thomas, knowing nothing about how the platforms were organized, made his way straight to station officers. "Excuse me sir," he got the officer's attention, "could you tell us where platform ten is? We're meeting our uncle there."
"O' course! It's jus' down that way," he pointed to the right, "Platforms seven an' eight on the left, nine an' ten on the right. Want me t' walk with you lads?"
"No, sir, we'll be alright. Thank you for your help." He grabbed Harry's hand and hurried in the direction the officer had pointed. Once they had passed a few groups of travelers he dropped the hand but maintained his pace.
"Why did you ask him for platform ten? We need to get to 9 3/4," Harry questioned.
"What do you think would happen if we asked the muggle officer where the magic train platform was? It's probably hidden by magic somewhere between the ninth and tenth platform. If we wait there long enough we should see someone access it, or maybe even find that staff member, Hagrid, was it?" He kept his tone light and friendly despite the growing irritation surrounding his predicament. Professor Snape had been a much better escort.
Harry looked down at his shoes, "Oh, I hadn't thought about that. Yeah, Hagrid should be here somewhere."
They stopped and sat on a bench past platform nine and before platform ten. Thomas looked up at one of the clocks overhead, it was just past 9:30 meaning they had about an hour before they had to worry about missing the train. He observed the people passing through the area. Although this was the city and people were more inclined to dress oddly, the witches and wizards he had seen so far were dressed distinctly. He could simply sense for the concentration of magic but he wasn't sure that was a common ability and wanted to keep it to himself on the chance it was rare.
They'd been on the bench for some time when Harry broke the silence, "Look! There's Hagrid!" He was up and practically running before Thomas could say anything; he sighed and followed at a more sedate pace.
Harry had stopped next to an impossibly tall and very hairy man. "An' I see yer even foun' yer frien' Thomas! Now alls left is ter get the both o' ya on the train," the man's voice was heavily accented and deep. "Platform 9 3/4 is the one ya wan', jus' right o'er there. These are yer tickets," he handed a ticket to both of them then checked the time on his pocket watch. "Blimey, it's tha' late already! I've go' te get goin', mee'ing with the Headmas'er. The mos' importan' thing is te stick to your ticket, remember that."
They glanced down at the tickets they had been handed. Thomas quickly looked back up, mouth open to ask how exactly they get to the platform. Hagrid was gone. 'Well that was entirely unhelpful,' Thomas thought. He turned towards Harry who was still looking down at his ticket.
"But Hagrid, how do we get to..." Harry trailed off as he looked up at the empty space beside him. "What do we do now?"
"Back to the original plan; watch for someone else to access it and follow them through. It's closer to the departure time so there should be more people going that way." Thomas tried not to think about what they would do if most wizards simply apparated directly to the platform; that would be a problem for the future.
Just then he spotted a family of gingers bustling down the main aisle towards them. The kids all pushing trolleys piled with trunks similar to his own; one even had an owl. Some of them were dressed oddly, as if they weren't quite sure how to properly wear the clothes they had. "Look," he said, gesturing in their direction, "I bet if we follow them, we'll find the platform." He followed after them, keeping his distance and watching their actions carefully.
They walked down the aisle between platforms nine and ten, following the squat woman who must have been their mother, until she came to a stop beside the last numbered column. "Right, then, oldest first. Go on Percy," the mother directed. The oldest boy did as he was told and took off at a jog toward the brick divider. Thomas watched as Percy disappeared through what was visually a solid brick wall. The mother continued to direct her children onto the platform as he and Harry watched from a distance.
Harry leaned over to him after the third child, "How're they doing that?" he asked.
"Magic, probably," Thomas answered with a shrug.
"Remember, Ron, straight at the wall," the woman told her last boy; the only one left with a trolly. "Give it a bit of a run if you're nervous."
"I am not nervous," the boy denied. He passed through the wall. The mother and daughter followed shortly after.
"Seems easy enough," Thomas said as he and Harry approached the barrier. "Do you want to go first?"
Harry shrugged before lining up with the barrier. He took a deep breath and then ran at the wall. Harry disappeared just as all the others had. Thomas followed him through.
The barrier felt like passing under a waterfall, his vision rippling out of and back into focus as the sensation passed. He moved forward, away from the exit of the barrier. To his right was the train, neatly labeled in red and gold letters as the Hogwarts Express. The sign above his head was similarly labeled with the platform number and train name. He scanned the crowd, briefly searching for Harry but not seeing him. Thomas started walking along the train, intent on finding a less crowded area to board; Harry was somewhere on the platform, he could find his own way from here.