Foster AU
Alexander, a six year old, became an orphan. His mother died due to cancer and his father left and was reported dead a week after. His name is Alexander Harrison, previously Hamilton, and he's come back with a renewed vigour.
House to house, most people doesn't like him because he's quiet, reading, writing. Then he's taken in by the Warrentons.
His bag of his belongings were slung over his shoulder. His care worker, Sam Sant, (previously Seabury), a teenager in need of a job, brought him up the hill to a mansion. He turned to me.
"Hamilton, I might be a little pissed- especially when roasted me in front of a lot of people- but I'm no asshole. These are reincarnates, and I won't tell them who you are and vice versa." He said then knocked on the door.
Now, ever since Alexander had remembered (which, admittedly, was when he was born), he studied reincarnates. They make up a small part of the population, and generally they remember- which is called their revelation- in their teen years.
The door opened. He was stunned by the familiarity of the person and it clicked. The Warrentons used to be the Washingtons.
A day in, Alexander was already at peace. He didn't meet the others of the house because he was too tired to. He woke up early, like he always did. The sun barely lit up the place. He started unpacking.
He'd like to stay as long as possible. He settled in his bed and started reading his history book.
The door opened to show Mrs. Warrenton standing there. "Hey Alexander, it's time for breakfast." He looks out he window, fields were lit up by the sun. He nods and hops off the bed.
"Thanks m'am," he said as he left. He was writing in a notebook about the place, making a map of the house. It was large, and he's only able to draw out the main room and the path to his room.
He entered the dining eoom and stopped.
He could swear they were his friends. John, Laf, Herc, even Lee (He had to go through Sam's rants about him and wishing he could see him. They're even teenagers!) were sitting there at the dining table, and at the head of the table was George. His notebook fell out of his hands, flipping and landing on a picture he drew of his old friends, with him in the middle.
He got to see his friends again. Even if they were in foster care.