Chapter 2
Underage wizards weren’t allowed to use magic outside of school grounds.
And Leo Fitz was underage, sure, but he was definitely a wizard, not a Squib and not a witch. (There’s nothing wrong with being a Squib or a witch, he’d scrawled in his journal, sideways and scrappy alongside his endless notes on wand theory. I’m just not either of those things, no matter what Father says.)
He checked again for the Hogwarts letter in his back pocket - he’d kept it close just in case someone at the gates of the castle believed his father, believed that he wasn’t worthy of studying at such a fine institution. He took comfort in the weight of it, the thickness of the parchment, the way that the letter had said “Mr. Fitz,” like somehow at the castle, they already knew.
He hoped the letter itself wasn’t an elaborate plot to humiliate him. That always seemed possible, with his father.
But here he was anyway, on the Hogwarts Express. Leaving London and leaving his father, finally, in search of freedom at the castle he’d always longed to see.
Other students, even first years like him, were tracking through the corridors, casting little spells with their wands as they dodged each other and tried not to slam into the snack trolley.
But he couldn’t do what they were doing - he couldn’t risk casting a spell outside of school. What if he got caught and somehow Father found out? He could not risk giving anyone an excuse to take him away from Hogwarts before he even had the chance to bring his trunk off the train.
So he kept his wand in his pocket, and brought out a pair of scissors instead. He’d worked hard to find an empty compartment, and as he settled in, his heart raced. He fogged the window with his breath and polishes it with the edge of his sleeve. Even that little motion screamed of a rebellion that Father would never approve of.
He stared at his reflection, squinting just right so he could focus on his own face as the countryside speeds by. He took a deep breath and raised shaking fingers to his ponytail. He raised the scissors, opened them, and slowly started to close them around his hair.
“Excuse me,” a voice called as the compartment door slides open. “Can my friend and I sit in here? She’s had a run in with Grant Ward, and landed quite an impressive hex on him, but her bad girl shenanegins can get her into quite a bit of trouble if -- oh, are you cutting your hair?”
The girl was balancing at least six textbooks in her arms. The girl’s friend -- the one who had hexed the infamous Slytherin, apparently -- poked her head in behind Book Girl, feigning guilt but looking pretty pleased with herself. He watched her assess him as he slid a Muggle cell phone into her pocket.
“Oh, um. Yes.” He tried to deepen his voice as much as he could. But all he could hear was squeaking. He prepared himself for these girls to laugh and laugh and laugh at him, to point and giggle and torment and --
“What’s your name?” the girl’s friend asked. Her American accent surprised him, but she plopped down next to him like she didn’t have a care in the world. “I’m Skye.”
“Um, Fitz. Um, Leo. Leo Fitz.”
His stomach swirled with terror -- this was the first time the name had left his lips to another human being, and anything could happen now. Especially since this Skye girl was apparently good at casting hexes.
“Nice to meet you, Leo Fitz.” The girl with all the books tried to shake his hand, promptly spilling the books out of her arms. Skye caught them easily, chuckling -- but not, Fitz noted, laughing at the other girl -- as she rearranged them next to her.
He shook the girl’s hand wordlessly. “I’m Jemma. Jemma Simmons. And I’m sure you know what you’re doing with those scissors, but if you’d like, I’d be happy to cut your hair with a little more...” She glanced at the scissors, then at her wand. “Precision. Not that you should have any reason to trust me with something as important as your hair cut, but I have been doing a lot of reading and I’m sure I’ll be able to make it look very nice.”
“Oh. Oh.” This girl, Jemma, and her friend Skye were being... so nice to him. He waited for the shoe to drop. He tried to speak. “Well, I don’t want to impose -”
“It’s not an imposition if she offers, silly,” Skye said, bumping her shoulder into his. Like they could be friends. Like she wanted to be friends. And Jemma just nodded eagerly, all wide eyes and pretty blue headband.
“Well, I mean, alright then. If that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay, Leo,” Jemma said, nodding like she knew. Like she knew exactly why he was cutting his hair all alone on the Hogwarts Express in pants and a shirt that he knew he looked absurdly uncomfortable in... but he didn’t have anything else. Not yet. He’d been hoping his robes would help with all that.
She cleared her throat with a blush and scooted close to him. Skye smiled as Jemma nodded to herself, probably calling to mind a whole mess of knowledge from those books she’d been carrying.
He wondered if she and Skye like spell theory and arithmancy, too.
As if in answer to his question, Skye sifted through the books to find an arithmancy volume that Fitz himself had been studying every night since his trip to Diagon Alley. She opened it and started reading with a casual smile at him. Like she didn’t want him to feel like he was being stared at. Like it was normal to be... who he was.
Jemma’s spell work was so crisp that he didn’t even need to clean up his hair -- it just sort of evaporated into the air around them as she cut it with her wand.
“You know,” she said as tears starting stinging his eyes. Skye didn’t take her eyes off her book, looking at her Muggle phone with one hand and comparing whatever was on the screen to what was in the textbook. But she reached out her other hand to squeeze his knee. He took her hand and squeezed back.
“Skye’s friends Mack and Trip have some sweaters and pants and things that they probably don’t need anymore,” Jemma continued. “If you’d like to get changed before we get to the castle. Not that you don’t look lovely now! But, if, you know, you’d like to be more comfortable.”
“And if you’re a Gryffindor, he can give you an awesome tour of the boy’s dormitories,” Skye said, still squeezing his hand.
“And if you’re not a Gryffindor, we’ll make sure that Trip or Hunter or Phil show you around.”
“I... Yes. Yes please.”
His father’s voice in his head told him he needed to find more articulate words. But his new friends smiled like they understood him completely.
“All done! I can make any adjustments if you don’t like it, or -”
“No. No, I love it,” Fitz whispered as he stared at himself in the window. His hair was mostly gone except for the smattering of curls that his mother had loved so much, and he looked... like himself. He looked like himself.
He ran a hand over the back of his head -- he could feel the back of his head for the first time, and it was absolutely miraculous.
He trembled. Something else his father would disapprove of.
“I love it. But I... I don’t look ridiculous?” His father’s voice, just once more.
“No,” Jemma and Skye said at the same time.
“You look baller,” Skye said.
“Quite dashing,” Jemma blushed.
“Well, good. I love it. Thank you. Thank you.”
He didn’t know what else to say. Jemma was blushing, he was pretty sure he was blushing, and Skye looked positively thrilled, but she also wasn’t saying anything.
He cleared his throat.
“So Jemma’s all into becoming a healer, and that’s cool, but I think I’ll figure out something to do with arithmancy,” Skye said. “What about you, Leo Fitz?”
“Both of those are great. But I also love astronomy. I heard Hogwarts has an amazing -”
“Astronomy Tower, yes! With a perfect view of -”
“The constellation Theta Serpentis -”
“Which has my favorite star -”
“Alya!”
“Alya!”
The three of them paused and then burst into giggles.
So this was what it was like to find family.