Tommy left Madam Malkins with a satisfied grin. He had decided not to tell his dad about his new, awesome wizard friend but, in his defence, his father instantly dragged him off back into the crowded streets of Diagon Alley before he could bring up Tubbo.

"C'mon, mate," His dad said, weaving them through the hordes of people. "We've got to go and get ice cream now!"

"Is it magic ice cream?" Tommy asked hopefully.

Phil hesitated, blinking once or twice. "Uh... Yeah. I think? I don't know, Toms, it's just ice cream."

The boy made a face. "I want magic ice cream."

"You're just getting ice cream."

"But it could be magic-"

"Tommy, I am not going to find you specifically magic ice cream just because you want it. We're getting normal ice cream and that shall be enough."

He scowled. "You are a dictating brute of tyrannical nature."

Phil stumbled in his step and turned around to look at his son. "What?"

"You are a coward and history shall forget you."

"Okay, I'm going to need you to stop talking to Techno for a couple of months-"

"You're a ginger."

Phil stopped walking completely to glare at his son. "I'm telling your mother."

Tommy paled in a heartbeat.

His dad began to tug him along again and, this time, Tommy raised no protest. He let his father pull him down the stream of coursing, swaying wizards. No matter how long he stayed here, he couldn't get over the pride every single building seemed to have. They possessed some ancient satisfaction, well assured of their superiority against him. Nowhere else in London could ever be quite so colourful; nothing else in England could ever compare to the oddities; no place in the world would rival Diagon Alley's eccentricity. There was some true marvel to it all - how foreign it felt but still just like home. Tommy felt at home.

He caught sight of a familiar head of hair and managed to make eye contact with Tubbo. He waved brightly and Tubbo waved back until a gloved hand landed on his shoulder. A man with dark hair and dark eyes cast a look in Tommy's direction and then pulled Tubbo away, down a dark alley that no one else seemed to occupy. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Tommy watched after them, definitely not speculating that Tubbo might be part of some secret wizarding cult, but doing nothing. Why do anything about your new best friend possibly being in some magical cult when they might invite you in the future? Tommy had the big picture to think about, here.

Without a single word, he kept following his dad, letting the strange scene brush through his mind and not allowing it to dwell. He instead started looking around to see if he could spot this apparently not magic ice cream parlour. Then he saw it - painted a pale shade of blue, with candyfloss-pink lettering, was 'Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour'. There were a handful of tables and stools outside it, fenced off peacefully from the havoc of the crowds, and filled to the brim with people eating colourful bowls and cones of ice cream.

"Dad!" He cooed loudly, tugging at his father's hand. "I found it!"

"Hmm?" Phil looked over then smiled. "Ah, so you did. I was looking to the wrong side."

Tommy rolled his eyes at his dad's plain stupidity and then started dragging him through the crowds himself. He weaved and spun across the paths of other wizards and witches, mercilessly stepping on toes and kicking at ankles to get through. Philza vigorously apologised to all those left in his wake as he tripped and stumbled after his son. The boy didn't slow down once for his father to have time to catch up, hurriedly marching over to the ice cream parlour. He managed to get onto the pavement, safely free from the suffocating horde of people. His dad staggered out after him, exasperated and seeming rather flustered.

"Tommy, mate, you can't just shove people," He sighed, giving his son a weak, reprimanding look.

He sniffed in response. "Watch me!"

Phil groaned a little. "I just did..."

Ignoring his father's pathetic plight, Tommy turned and walked through the fencing into the parlour's ground. He made brief eye contact with a skinny boy, maybe his age, with blond hair and a purple hoodie, but was in too much of a rush to properly analyse him, even if he did seem familiar. He dragged his dad into the shop, instantly hit with the sweet smell of cold sugar. There was a large queue inside but it was moving fast, thankfully. Tommy inhaled the sugary air deeply and then breathed out loudly.

He turned to his dad and smiled. "Get out your wallet, father. You are about to pay for me."

"I know," Phil groaned. "We need to start giving you wizard money for pocket money..."

Tommy frowned. "Wizard money? Is that the galleons thing you've been buying all this stuff with?"

His father smiled. "Yep. Wizards have a different currency compared to muggles."

"Muggles?"

"Non-magical people."

"Oh. Why?"

Phil pondered briefly, then shrugged. "Not too sure, mate. Maybe so they can't accidentally buy a spellbook instead of Jamie Oliver's latest Italian recipes."

Snickering, Tommy turned away and looked up at the menu that sat upon boards above the counter. Strange flavours stood out first, like butterbeer and dragon scale, but he also spotted ones sounding more normal, such as clotted cream or chocolate and raspberry. He tugged his dad's sleeve hesitantly. "What are you going to get?"

"Hmm?" His father skimmed the board for flavours. "Maybe Earl Grey and Lavender. It's rather lovely."

Tommy made a face. "That sounds like it was made for old people. I want the Salted Caramel Blondie."

Phil nodded. "You had that last time, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "I think so. I remember it being nice."

"I'm pretty sure you liked it, mate, don't worry." His dad ruffled his hair with a grin, prompting his son to shriek quietly in offence. "You ate it all up last time!"

"Shut up, get off me!" Tommy shoved his dad off with an embarrassed hiss and stubbornly 'fixed' his hair, even though nothing had changed. "I like caramel!"

The elder laughed, sticking his hands in his pockets casually. "I know, I know. I'll get you the Blondie."

"Good." He sniffed indignantly. "At least you'll get one thing right."

Phil laughed again and gave his son a small hug, squeezing his shoulder. "Are you ready for Hogwarts, mate?"

Tommy nodded, idly beginning to fidget with the hem of his shirt. "As long as I don't have to do any more science!"

His dad tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well, you will study potions and, in Muggle Studies, you will have to look at the scientific necessities in order not to look like an idiot."

He gasped loudly. "I'd never look like an idiot!"

"Give me a reason for global warming."

The boy hesitated. "...Greenhouse gases."

"And how do we prevent those?"

"...Getting rid of greenhouses."

"That's," Phil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "not what you need to do... Yeah, I'm afraid you're going to have to take some science lessons, mate."

Tommy groaned but picked himself back up quickly with a smile. "I'm ready for everything else, though! Flying, casting magic - the whole thing!"

"You'll love it," Promised his dad, beaming. "It's the most fun way to learn ever. You'll even learn how to duel in your second year!"

"Duel?" Tommy echoed, wide-eyed. "With swords?"

His father shook his head and laughed. "Nope, with your wands!"

Tommy's eyes eagerly widened more. "We use our wands like swords?"

Phil hesitated. "Um. No. With magic."

Tommy blinked. "Ah... Makes sense."

"Please tell me you didn't genuinely think that we would duel physically with our wands?"

The boy smiled nervously. "A little?"

Phil sighed. "You're unbelievable."

"Hey! The Princess Bride made it look fun!"

His dad paused and then started laughing. "Of course, mate, of course. Gods, you'll be one hell of a student, I can tell you that."

Tommy sniffed indignantly, brushing some golden hair from his face. "Well, of course I'll be. I'm Tommy Soot and I'm about to terrorise the living fuck out of that school!" His statement would've been more impressive if Phil didn't cuff him lightly around the back of the head and scolded him for his language. However, Tommy recovered quickly, like always, and put his hands on his hips. "Just wait, Dad. I'm going to be the greatest student they've ever seen. I'm gonna one-up you, mum and the twins!"

Phil looked at him for a moment, almost ponderingly, and a soft, adoring smile crossed his face. "Yes, you will, Tommy. I know you will..."

Tommy wandered out of the ice cream parlour, happily devouring his cone with a beam. He had surprised himself with just how ravenous he had become and the cold treat was enchantingly soothing. The familiar boy was still there but he didn't cast too much of a glance to him as he sat down at an empty bench. His father joined him, his own ice cream in hand, and pulled out a small shopping list.

"We're pretty much set for you now, Toms," He said. "We've got your uniform, your wand... I think Mum's bought you a cauldron and all your books will be second-hand."

"Neat," Answered the boy, mouth full of ice cream.

Phil nodded. "Yep! I'm sure the twins are nearly done, too. I'm not sure if your mum's taken them to Madame Malkins for remeasurements, but they didn't shoot up too much last year. Their uniform should still be rather well-fitting."

Tommy grunted, not particularly caring for the twins and their wardrobe struggles. "Mkay. When will they be getting here?"

"Not sure," His dad replied, with a smile. Then the look turned teasing. "Do you miss them already?"

He flushed brightly, and lightly shoved his father. "Shut up! No! I never missed them, not once, and I never will, not ever!"

Phil smirked knowingly. "Of course. How could I forget? They're 'inconsequential'."

"Exactly," The blond nodded stubbornly. "Very much so."

The familiar boy was still staring at him, fidgeting, and Tommy looked back. He was definitely familiar. Slightly freckled with blond hair, a purple hoodie with some strange logo he hadn't figured out yet: he couldn't help but be sure he had seen him before... Maybe once before, in the streets. Maybe last year he was here. Or, maybe, the stranger just had one of those faces. Next to him, his dad kept talking and Tommy awkwardly upheld the conversation. He stole glances to the other boy when he could, still trying to place him in his memory.

So recognisable yet so unmemorable. Tommy had no genuine clue where he could be from and he felt almost guilty for it. Like he was meant to at least know his name. It looked like it started with a 'B' or an 'R' but, in total honesty, Tommy was completely spit-balling and had not a single inkling who this poor kid was. Did this guy know who he was? Aw, crap, that would be awkward... He kept nodding along to his dad's words, not paying attention in the slightest as he made eye contact with the stranger.

Brown eyes. Bright brown eyes. Mesmerizingly bright, in an odd way, while still being too dark to not be brown. Tommy shuddered a little. The strange boy stood up, hands shaking a little as he looked at Tommy. The blond sat up a little straighter. The mystery could finally be brought to an end and-

"Ta-da!" A covered cage landed in front of him.

He blinked, looking up at Wilbur, who was beaming from ear to ear. "Huh?"

Wilbur blinked, forcing his smile to stay in place. "I said, 'Ta-da'! We got you something!"

Techno appeared out of nowhere on his left, making him jump. "This is the part where you thank us."

Tommy stole a brief glance to the familiar boy to find him hurriedly returning to his seat, flushing a bright shade of red. He looked back up at Wilbur, who still beamed strainedly at him. "What is it?"

"Uh, a present?" Wilbur answered, dropping the smile and looping around the table to sit on Tommy's right. "A 'welcome to magic school' kind of thing."

Technoblade nodded, almost solemnly. "We received one. And now we picked one out for you."

"So I didn't get to choose?" Tommy made a face.

Wilbur smiled again, brushing curls fruitlessly from his face. "Nope! You get what we pick."

"All you're gonna get from now on will be our old stuff, anyway," Smirked Techno, letting a fraction of his mouth move mildly upwards. "So you ought to get used to it."

The youngest whacked him on the shoulder. "Prick!"

"Ruffian," Techno scoffed back.

"Boring little shits," Wilbur hissed, lowering his voice as he swore and clouting Tommy around the back of the head. "Just look at the present, for Merlin's sake!"

The blond stared at him. "For what's sake?"

Wilbur shrugged, obviously disinterested in the utter bullshit he just spouted. "Doesn't matter, it's just something people were saying in Hogwarts."

Kristin walked past briefly. "Twins, what flavour ice cream do you both want?"

"Apple crumble," They chorused, before rounding on Tommy simultaneously. "Now look at it!"

"Fine, fine," Tommy stood up. He glanced away briefly and made eye contact once more with the strange boy - it was like he'd been watching him beforehand but, the moment brown eyes met blue, he looked down hurriedly at his ice cream. Tommy looked away too, turning to the covered cage. "Do I just take off the blanket?"

Techno arched an eyebrow. "No, we're suggesting you remove your soul and enter the astral plane in order to transcend the barrier of a layer of fabric." His brothers stared at him and he sighed loudly. "Yes, of course you take off the blanket."

"Okay, jeez..." Grumbled the blond, getting a good grip on the dark brown fabric that felt firm like leather. "Don't need to bite my head off, greaseball."

The eldest drew back in slight horror. "How dare you!" He indignantly pouted. Wilbur snickered quietly.

Tommy ignored the twins and squeezed the leather blanket in both hands. "Alright," He muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Here goes."

Without hesitating any longer, he ripped off the cover. Almost immediately, he squealed in utter delight. It was an owl. It was a goddamn, real life owl. Its feathers were autumnal; a fiery mix of browns, oranges and striking whites. The eyes were pale yellow, like watered-down gold, and blinked at Tommy with the sweetness of sugar. Its beak was small, silver and hooked, and it's face was alarmingly flat in a rather cute way. It tilted its head at him, curiously, and squawked loudly. Tommy squawked back giddily, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Wilbur was beaming widely, wrapping his arms around Tommy to hug him tightly. "D'you like her?"

Techno was grinning too. "We walked into the pet-shop-place and she was screaming at the top of her lungs. Me and Wilbur thought that'd be perfect for you."

"Argh, I love her!" Tommy crowed delightfully, picking up the cage and making his new pet jolt around with a stubborn ruffle of her feathers. "I'm going to name her Clementine!"

Clementine cawed at her new name and Tommy giggled uncontrollably at it. Being a wizard was awesome.

"She's a screech owl," Wilbur said brightly.

"They fly silently," Added Techno, "So you can send her around the castle to poop on people."

Phil leaned across the table to frown at his sons. "Hey. Don't encourage him, twins. I will put all three of you in detention!"

They all rolled their eyes in synch. "Yes, dad, sorry, dad." He gave them all a stern look before pulling back and enamouring himself once more in a dusty-looking book.

Tommy turned back to Clementine and cooed at her a little. She hooted back. He looked Wilbur dead in the eyes. "I love her."

Techno stretched across the table. "Me and you, Tommy: we're the owl bros."

"What did you name your owl?" Tommy asked, turning to him.

"Apollo," Techno answered, smiling.

Wilbur crinkled his nose disapprovingly. "It's so pretentious-sounding."

Technoblade made a face back. "It's better than Milo. Who would name a snake Milo?"

"People who don't want their pet to be bullied at pet school."

"He's a goddamn owl, Wilbur! He's not going to be bullied!"

Wilbur shrugged. "Well, what if the other owls in the owlery are mean to him?"

Techno stood up sharply. "Wilbur, owls do not have the mental capacity to bully another for a name in a language they can't understand!"

Wilbur stood up too, slamming his hands on the table. "Technoblade, owls that are called 'Apollo' deserve to be bullied by their own kind because it's a curse against nature!"

"What's wrong with the name 'Apollo'?!"

"Nothing! What's wrong with the name 'Milo'?!"

"Nothing!"

The twins both lost their defensive stances, blinking once or twice after the tiny row. Tommy caught the eye of the familiar boy and shrugged at him, before turning to the twins. "You're making a scene, jerks."

Both of them looked briefly around the parlour's sitting area to see eyes on them. They blushed and sat down hurriedly, the pair hiding their faces behind their hands. Tommy snickered gleefully and the parlour doors swung open to reveal his mother, managing to hold three ice cream cones in only two hands. The twins perked up, forgetting their previous shame, and reached out expectantly for their identical ice creams. Kristin handed them over, smiling. "There you go, boys," She said, holding back an ice cream for herself. "Enjoy."

They smiled at her and so did Tommy, even if there was no particular reason. He was so excited.

He lay in bed, staring at his ceiling. He had his suitcase packed and his clothes ready for the next morning. His wand was sitting in the kitchen since Phil didn't trust him with it. Tommy couldn't blame him, since he kept trying to blow things up with it, but that didn't stop him from thinking his dad was being insanely tyrannical by separating him from his wand-soulmate. His bedroom clock was ticking idly in the background and his phone flashed every now and then from where it was on charge. According to his father, he wasn't going to be allowed to take it in. However, his mum - ever the saviour - had given him permission to post on Instagram about how he was going to be attending a boarding school.

It's what the twins had done, after all, even though they didn't have any friends to lie to. Well, not lie to, so to say. More omit the small detail of the fact the boarding school would teach him how to be a wizard. A wizard. How fucking awesome. He was going to be able to cast magic. Magic! That was so badass. He could go out there and just blast fire at his problems. And his homework. Especially his homework. Or he'd feed it to Clementine. That would be an awesome excuse - the owl ate the homework. He could pull that off, no problem. Even if Clementine did seem a little bit too snobby to actually eat his homework.

He couldn't blame her for that. He wouldn't eat homework, either. Paper was a whole was a different story.

The night flew by - either he fell asleep or his excitement took the clock of the world and spun it into overdrive. Minutes felt like milliseconds and hours felt like minutes. It was unlike any typical night of eagerness, why time decided to spit in his face and be alarmingly lazy, every second like a minute and a minute like a decade. No, tonight was just different. A marvellous, magical different that would never be topped for as long as he lived.

Now he was thinking about it, he must've fallen asleep for some bits: that would explain the strange dream about singing dogs going to war with the ballet-dancing guinea pigs. Unless that was a magic vision... He hoped it was not a magic vision. And then, finally, he heard the beep of his phone alarm.

Tommy jumped out of bed, giddy, and took a moment to waltz brightly across his room. To be honest, it wasn't much of a waltz - just a semi-rhythmic vibration across his entire body as he sprinted in circles around his bedroom to the pace of his phone's alarm. Finally, after Clementine gave an annoyed flutter of her wings he turned off the alarm. He giggled a little, rather childishly, but that didn't matter. He was going to go to Hogwarts today.

At eleven o'clock, the magic train would leave the station. Then, by the evening and if his 'sources' were correct, he'd be sorted into his house. The reliability of his sources was certainly mixed, as one-third happened to be his father but the other two happened to be the twins. It was not wise to trust the twins on anything... But he knew it was happening today. That was all that mattered.

Tommy breathed in and out, forcing himself to be calm. Appearances first.
Swiping his clothes off the dresser, he got clumsily changed. He forced on a shirt with shaky fingers and scrabbled at the socks slightly too small for him with quivering hands. Not that it all really mattered. He was magic. Once dressed, he shoved his pyjamas into the suitcase and closed it, buckling it shut. His mother had fished an old suitcase from the attic and it looked awesome. Scratch marks were buried deep in the leather and there were scorched threads hanging off it in the corners. Apparently, she had used this suitcase before settling down in an office job, for her old work. When Tommy asked for more details, she only winked at him and then distracted her son with the owl in the attic that did actually exist.
He sat down on the suitcase now it was closed, phone in hand. He took a quick selfie of himself, sticking out his tongue with a 'friendly scowl' and a middle finger. Then, with the caption 'boarding school today boyyyysssssss', he uploaded it to Instagram. He gained some likes rather quickly and one or two comments flocked in very quickly. See, unlike his socially inept brothers, Tommy was popular. Surprisingly so. Everyone liked him. And everyone would obviously like him again at Hogwarts.
For an hour, he stayed where he sat, replying to his friends' comments and messaging a handful who weren't awake yet. He had, under the watchful guidance of his parents, told all his friends how he wasn't allowed any kind of technology at his boarding school: how it was strict and stubborn with all the rules to the point of having no cellphone service. He said he'd send them letters if he could but, in all honesty, it was unlikely. Tommy would have to wait until the summer holidays to see them again.
And then, ungraciously, the bedroom door burst open. Wilbur stood before him, already dressed in a white shirt, black trousers, and a green and silver tie. He had a black robe with the Slytherin crest emblazoned across his chest, along with a black beanie that had silver and green stripes around the base. "Morning," He greeted.

"Hi!" Tommy answered back eagerly.
Wilbur grinned. "If you're all packed, breakfast is being served downstairs."
Tommy couldn't help but grin back. "I'm ready!"
His elder brother held out a hand and Tommy scrabbled off his suitcase hurriedly, taking it in his own. Wilbur laughed a little and dragged the youngest Soot across the landing and down the stairs. Tommy couldn't help but eye his uniform: how would he look in Gryffindor uniform, or Hufflepuff? Or even the dreaded Ravenclaw uniform? Tommy wondered if Technoblade would be wearing his uniform too.
As it happened, Techno was in his Slytherin robes as well when Wilbur burst into the kitchen with Tommy behind him. He looked ominous, brown hair hanging limply and raggedly in his face. He glanced up at Tommy and smiled. "You look far too awake for this time of day."
"Shut up!" Tommy commanded. "You look far too negative for someone going to magic school today!"

Wilbur snickered next to him. "It's still school, Toms."

"A school where you learn magic and have pet owls." He crossed his arms stubbornly. "It sounds awesome."

"Of course, of course," Techno nodded wisely. "Apart from the fact we have to write essays for homework."

The blonde faltered slightly. "We... have to write essays for homework?"

Wilbur leaned dramatically over his shoulder. "So many essays! Twenty pages long or more! No remorse! It's unrelenting!"

Tommy turned to Kristen, who had been watching from the kitchen in exasperated amusement. "Mum, I don't want to write essays..."

She laughed and smiled at him. "Do what I did and recruit a Ravenclaw into it."

"Or what I did," Techno added, "And just never show up to detention." Kristen gave him a disapproving frown but Wilbur's and Tommy's grins widened.

Wilbur got off Tommy's shoulder, plonking himself down in his usual seat on Techno's right. "Don't worry, Toms, you don't get that many essays. You do have to write some though."

Techno hummed, resting his chin in his palm. "Actually, you don't get much work in your first year. They don't wanna overwhelm you."

Tommy sniffed. "Good. They oughtn't to overwork me. I'm important."

"Oh?" The twins chorused, arching mocking eyebrows. "How so?"

"By being me!" He declared dramatically. "And it's better than being you."

Kristen made a sharp, scolding noise as she brought over plates steaming with sausages, fried egg and toast. "Okay, boys, stop being nasty. Here are your breakfasts, alright? Eat up!"

Her spawn dug into the meal, gobbling it down hungrily. The table was alight with light conversation or loud teasing but there was a general air of excitement. Despite their cool, know-it-all exteriors, the twins were just as eager as Tommy when it came to hauling the three giant suitcases in the boot and piling themselves into the car. Wilbur managed to sit in the front seat, simply because he did not get involved in the Techno-v-Tommy food war over breakfast, and he sat proudly with Milo draped across his shoulders like a scarf. Tommy and Technoblade sat in the back, their owls sitting in cages on their lap.

They drove and drove and it was only now was the slow drag of time finally began to bother Tommy. Every time he hoped they were nearly there, his mother would keep driving. Every time he saw a train track, it was apparently not going to King's Cross. They were never going to get to Hogwarts: he liked to say this dramatically and regularly, to everyone else's expense.

Eventually, eventually, they pulled into the car park. Tommy squealed and bounced in excitement, ignoring Clementine's short screech of protest, and the twins both eagerly perked up. Suitcases were piled into trolleys and birds were put on top. Wilbur continued to wear Milo like a decoration as they walked into the station.

Plenty gave them weird looks. It made Tommy's skin prickle slightly. The twins were wearing coats over the emblem of their uniforms, but their colourful ties and flowing robes were still on display. A child with a large snake across his shoulders turned out to earn a lot of shouts from people harassing both the snake and Wilbur. Tommy threatened to bite a teenager who gave an unnervingly aggressive swipe at Clementine's cage. Their mother glared at all who got too close after that and people backed off.

And then there was the wall again. The wall he'd have to run through. Technoblade went first, breezing through it without eyes on him easily. Wilbur slipped inside next, managing to avoid detection. Tommy was guided in by his mother and no one seemed to raise an alarm. The cold wind hit his face, he could smell the coals of the locomotive and he opened his eyes.

Here he was again. Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters. His journey begins...