AN: I wrote this as a birthday gift for Jaylie12 since I know she loves Kurt Hummel and Hogwarts - why not mix the two? Happy Birthday and I hope you enjoy!
The cloudy sky opened up into a drizzle just as Kurt headed home from his daily music lesson with Ms. Finch. He broke into a jog as the rain became heavier. The four blocks seemed to take forever. His orange jumper was getting soaked. He'd just turned up the walkway to his house and was halfway through the gate when he felt a tingling sensation in his nose. Something smelled really important. It was an odd thought, so he gave a little "hmm" and continued to the red front door. He hurried inside and slammed the door shut behind him.
"Oh dear," he exclaimed as he saw that he'd stomped on the day's mail with his wet shoes. He quickly scooped up the bundle before he could drip onto it any more. After wriggling out of his jumper and hanging it up to dry, he took the mail over to his father's desk. He'd set the pile down and started a fire going in the fireplace when he noticed it again. That smell. That smell of something significant.
He turned around and walked slowly back to his father's desk. Underneath of a couple of bills and a birthday card for his father, there was an envelope as elegant as he'd ever seen. It looked like old parchment, a faded shade of yellow, with bright green writing that was similar to his own loopy cursive.
Mr. K. Hummel
99 Malvern Road
Coventry
West Midlands
Kurt felt lightheaded. He didn't know what this letter could be about, but he felt sure it had something to do with his mother. Still staring at it, he walked up the stairs to his room to his mother's old vanity. He sank down onto the cushioned stool. Holding the envelope in one hand, he reached out with the other to open the top left drawer and took out an antique letter opener that had belonged to her. The letter opener had a heavy carved handle inlaid with onyx and pearl. He thought he remembered her mentioning that it had been in her family for several generations.
He turned the envelope other and noticed the wax seal for the first time. It was a deep red wax, emblazoned with a crest with several animals and a large H in the middle. He wondered if the H might be for Hummel. Before opening it, he decided he should write down the words stamped into the seal: "Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus." He set the letter opener down so he could copy the words exactly. Mrs. Finch spoke Spanish and French, so perhaps she could help translate it for him.
With a deep breath, he picked up his mother's letter opener again and finally used it to break the wax seal and open the envelope. The letter inside was written in a different handwriting. Rather than elaborate loops it had simple script. Kurt felt rather dizzy as he read the letter, which informed him that he had been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. On the back was a list of required supplies and textbooks.
Poised at the vanity, he kept rereading the letter several times over. He felt somehow as if he were holding a piece of his dead mother in his hands. He'd had no idea that there were special schools for learning magic. Certainly he'd never heard anyone mention being accepted to one. He closed his eyes and pictured his mother in his mind, trying desperately to remember if she had ever spoken of it. As a child he'd never really thought about how she had learned to perform spells or make her special potions. But it was no use; he simply couldn't recall her mentioning Hogwarts, or wizard and witch school of any kind.
There were so many things he wished he could ask her.
He opened the bottom drawer on the right side of the vanity. In it he kept several of his mother's old perfume vials. She had favored fruity and spicy scents over traditional floral perfume, and he liked to take one out every now and then to remind himself of her smell. Hidden carefully in the back was an unmarked bottle. It was blue crystal, with a wide round base and a narrow neck, and his mother's initials etched into the bottom: EG. He twisted the cap off of the bottle and peered inside.
There was a small amount of turquoise colored liquid within. It no longer emitted a silvery vapor. In fact, he was sure it would be risky to take a sniff, much less a sip.
When his mother died, his father had put all of her potion materials and ingredients in boxes and moved them to the attic soon after. Kurt had been sternly warned against playing with any of his mother's magical items; his father explained that they were very dangerous to regular people like the two of them. But he'd never told his father about the small container of Draught of Peace his mother had made for him just weeks before her death, to help Kurt relax about his first dentist appointment.
Any time he was feeling overwhelmed, or too anxious, he would secretly take out this bottle and look inside. Just the act itself had a calming effect on him. Taking it before that dentist visit had made him feel like everything was okay, that he wouldn't have to worry about braces or pulling teeth or X-rays. That was almost five years ago now, he realized with a pang. He'd now spent almost as much of his life without her as he had with her. He fought to keep back tears and closed the cap on his special vial, gently replacing it behind the perfumes.
Once again he picked up the letter from Hogwarts. Yes, this had to be some kind of message from his mother. She must have wanted him to learn magic. But why hadn't his father told him about this? He picked the letter up and went downstairs to wait.
When Burt Hummel returned from work an hour later, he was exhausted and quite hungry. The weather was awful, and his umbrella was still dripping even after he'd shaken it off in the doorway. He found his son sitting at the dining room table with his arms crossed. Burt sighed; usually when Kurt was waiting impatiently like this it meant he wanted something.
"Can this wait until after dinner, Kurt? I really need a burger." He gave Kurt a pleading expression.
Ignoring the question, Kurt waved the acceptance letter in the air. "Why didn't you tell me about Hogwarts?"
"Hogwhat?" Burt asked, confused. "Is that from one of your pen pals?"
Kurt stood up with a loud huff. "No, it's from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
Burt dropped his umbrella to the floor with a noisy clunk. His usual affable smile disappeared.
Kurt looked curiously at his father. "You didn't apply for me to go to Hogwarts?"
Burt shook his head, still wide-eyed.
"Well…" Kurt faltered. "Well, then how did they accept me if I didn't apply? I mean, how do they even know who I am?"
"I don't know, son," Burt spoke slowly. "I really have no idea."
Kurt trembled. He couldn't remember ever seeing his father look so frightened before. Even when his mother died, and he'd caught glimpses of Burt's miserable expressions before he quickly replaced them with calm stoicism or weak smiles for the sake of his son, Burt had never looked outright scared like this.
"I don't understand… You said they accepted you?" Burt asked, and Kurt nodded, feeling scared too. "For what, exactly?"
Kurt handed over the acceptance letter. Burt read it, flipped it over to read the supplies and book list, then flipped it to read the front again.
"But I don't even know where Hogwarts is," protested Burt, his mouth feeling dry.
"So does that mean you know *what* Hogwarts is?" inquired Kurt. "I mean, beyond that it's a school of wizardry and witchcraft, like it says on the letter."
"I know it's a school that your mom went to. In a big old castle somewhere… I think it might have been on a lake. And she learned," Burt hesitated, "well she learned, you know, magic and stuff. I don't know exactly the details. I know she had some good friends there, but they had some kind of big falling out right before she took her trip to America."
"What else did she say about it?" prompted Kurt.
"Well, I know she had some good times there, but she didn't say a whole lot about it. I know she had some hurt feelings that her favorite professor, Slugworth I think it was, really cut her out when she married me," Burt explained. "They call people who can't do magic Muggles, and it seemed like most wizards and witches don't really like hanging around people like us."
"Muggles? What an ugly name!" exclaimed Kurt.
"Well, I say people like us, but I guess if you decide to go to wizard school you wouldn't really be a Muggle after all."
Kurt thought this over. "Do you think I should go to wizard school, Dad?" He laughed as soon as he'd asked the question. "It sounds kind of barmy, doesn't it? Wizard school!"
Burt didn't laugh. He replied somberly, "I don't know, son. I just wish your mom was here to help us figure this out." With that, he picked up his umbrella to set it in the umbrella stand beside the door, and took a seat at the dinner table. Kurt sat down across from him, as they usually sat for meals.
"Are you hungry?" Kurt asked, seeming almost timid.
"Very," responded Burt. "Very hungry. But I'm not sure I feel like cooking dinner right now." Burt often cooked burgers, chicken, or grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. He preferred simple meals and didn't go for a whole lot of variety.
"Well… I could heat something up?" offered Kurt. He had some microwave meals that he could make for himself. His mother had been satisfied with Burt's basic cooking for the main course, but she'd always baked elaborately decorated cakes, cookies, and pastries. She'd always told Kurt that she'd teach him how to bake when he got older, but he'd lost all interest in it after she died.
Burt shook his head. "No, I don't think I want a microwave dinner either." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, how about we go out for dinner? This is a special occasion, Kurt. I don't know what it all means, but I think this is good news, and I want you to know I'm proud of you." He looked up, fixing his son with a goofy grin.
"Fish and chips?" Kurt suggested. He knew his father wasn't a big fan of the English dish, but it seemed more to his liking than curry.
Burt nodded, getting his umbrella back out.
"Better switch to wellies," said Kurt. He pulled on his rubber boots and picked up his own umbrella. It was bright blue, and just over half the size of his father's simple black one.
At the pub they enjoyed a rather quiet meal in one of the wooden booths. Neither said much until they'd finished all their food.
Burt cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the wizard school and everything sooner, Kurt. I really don't know all that much about it, and I never really thought about you needing to know. The truth is…" Burt sighed before continuing. "The truth is I guess I was hoping you wouldn't have magic powers like your mom did. I thought you'd be, well, you know, like me. I don't know what to do with all this magic stuff. As far as I was concerned the potions and spells and weird plants your mom grew were just a part of what made her special. But I never really thought about it any more than the other stuff I loved about her, like her singing or her sense of style or her baking. She was good at a lot of things I'll never really understand, you know?"
Kurt nodded. Even before the letter from Hogwarts, he'd shared a lot with his mother that Burt had been sort of left out from. Sitting at the booth in the pub, he suddenly felt as if he were drifting away across an ocean from his father. Besides all the talents that they had in common, he'd grown up in the same English countryside as his mother, while his father's American accent and baseball cap still stuck out. Kurt reach across the table. "I don't want to leave you, Dad. Maybe I shouldn't go to Hogwarts. Maybe I should just stay here and go to Heart of England?"
Burt took his son's hand. "Nah. I mean, I always like the idea of you being able to walk a few blocks to secondary school. But I don't want to get in the way of you learning magic. Going off to school isn't the same as leaving me." He squeezed Kurt's hand.
"Really?" Kurt asked.
"Yeah. Come on, sport. This is gonna be fun. And I'll still be here on the holidays, waiting to hear all your stories about it."
Kurt beamed. All the excitement and curiosity came rushing back to him after the last strained few hours. "It sounds kind of crazy, but it also sounds kind of wonderful!" he gushed. He took the list of required items back out from the envelope, which he'd been carrying in his jacket. "I bet wizard robes look really snazzy. And a wand! Do you think I could use Mom's wand? Is that up in the attic? And I wonder whether I should get an owl or a cat or a toad. I liked that cat Romilda that Mom had when I was little, but I think an owl sounds so fabulous. Remember that book Mom had about choosing an owl?"
"Yeah, I think she said that her grandmother actually wrote that book." Burt smiled, glad to see his son so cheered up. "It's up in the attic, and yes, her wand is up there too. But you know she didn't want you playing with it. I think you should wait until you get to this school before you try to use it."
Kurt looked disappointed for a moment, but he quickly regained his enthusiasm. "Can we get out all her old scales and cauldron and stuff too? I wonder if it's the same standard size this list says I need."
"Can I see the list?" Burt skimmed it when Kurt handed it over. "Does it say anywhere about how you're supposed to buy all this?"
Kurt shook his head.
Burt asked, "Really? Well how in the heck are we supposed to find this stuff? Last I checked they didn't have a magic section in the department store." He handed the list back, and Kurt tucked it into the envelope.
As he did so, however, he found a second piece of parchment in the envelope. "But - this wasn't here earlier!" He turned it sideways so they could both read it. It listed the address of a pub in London called the Leaky Cauldron, where they should inquire for further directions.
"Sounds like we'll have a road trip to London soon, then," announced Burt. They made plans to drive to the city over the weekend in two week's time. "And I know you must be so excited, but can we wait until this weekend to start looking through stuff in the attic? I'm just… I'm not ready for it tonight, I think."
Kurt nodded with understanding. They left the pub and returned home. Both struggled to sleep that night. Kurt was bubbling over with excitement, while Burt worried and grieved for his wife.
The next day Kurt walked through their back yard, through the ruins of his mother's garden. As much as he was like his mother, they didn't share all of the same interests. He had always hated getting dirty. His mother had spent significant time in her strange garden, growing things that sometimes didn't even seem to be entirely plants, but he'd never wanted to join her. Soon after her death the entire garden had shriveled up and looked like ancient ruins. Standing in it now, he wished bitterly that he'd never turned down her invitations to the garden. He wished that he'd spent every second he could have with her before she was torn away from him so young. But even as he thought this, he couldn't muster up any enthusiasm for doing his own gardening. He wondered how much time he'd have to spend learning about magical gardens at Hogwarts.
As he went to Ms. Finch's house each afternoon that week, he wanted very badly to tell her about his letter from Hogwarts. His mother had been good friends with Abigail Finch, so he wondered if she might have known about his mother's magical powers. But as much as he longed to share his news with someone else, something held him back. She might think he was crazy. She might be frightened of the idea of witches and wizards. So he kept it a secret, throwing himself wholeheartedly into his piano and singing lessons.
Over the weekend Burt brought down boxes from the attic. They found a set of brass scales and crystal vials that seemed to be in perfect condition, along with a cauldron that seemed much older. Kurt let out a gasp of dismay when he lifted out his mother's wand: it had snapped in two. Connecting the broken halves was a silvery thread. Kurt picked the whole thing up and carefully wrapped it with tissue paper, then set it into one of his mother's hatboxes.
They also came across three boxes of books. One box was filled entirely with *The Standard Book of Spells* for Grade 1 through 7. Sure enough, the author was Miranda Goshawk. As fascinated as Kurt was by all the books, he tried to focus on finding the ones on his list. He could only find three of the eight required: the first Standard Book of Spells, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and Magical Draughts and Potions. After some consideration he decided to also bring the other two books written by his great grandmother, Goshawk's Guide to Herbology and Which Owl?
Kurt gathered the five books, scales, vials, and the hatbox with his mother's wand, and arranged them all into a large trunk that also came down from the attic. He looked up to find his father staring at him with misty eyes.
"That's the trunk she was using when she was traveling in America." He stared down at it another moment, then added, "It's good to see it being used again."
Kurt smiled as he too gazed at the trunk. It certainly felt sturdy enough to handle much more weight. "Well, we've got almost half of what I need." He held up the list. "We still need another five books, a telescope, some kind of animal familiar, and a new wand. Oh, and a whole wizarding wardrobe. That should be fun."
He wanted to help put things back in the attic, but Burt insisted against it. "These boxes are too heavy for you, and the attic really isn't safe for kids."
Kurt shrugged and went to his room with Which Owl? He was still uncertain as to whether he wanted to get an owl or a cat, and he hoped the book would help. The first things to take him by surprise were the illustrations. Even as he looked at them and read the descriptions, the owls in the pictures moved around. They turned their heads about, flapped their wings, and sometimes even flew right out of the illustration. He turned through the pages in amazement. It was like watching a nature documentary, right here in his book.
Over the next two weeks, he continued his music lessons, and spent most of the rest of his time in his room reading through the textbooks. All the information was rather overwhelming, but he found himself so engrossed he could hardly put the books down. After poring over the owl book, Kurt decided that he wanted to get a Ural owl, due to their friendly demeanor, attractive feather pattern, and reliability. Choosing an owl was one of the things he most eagerly anticipated.
Burt was very much out of his element on the entire trip to Diagon Alley. He tried his best to put on a brave face for his son. The city itself presented a challenge with its narrow streets and traffic that seemed dangerously malicious. Having spent his entire life in small towns and suburbs, the huge bustling metropolis made him feel dizzy. Twice he got lost trying to find his way around.
Finally, they found their way to the Leaky Cauldron. Burt spotted several men and women wearing cloaks despite the warm summer weather. He caught a few stares at his own get-up, his usual flannel shirt with jeans and a baseball cap. They walked through the back exit, where they found another family was just opening the hidden passage to Diagon Alley.
A short woman with wave red hair had finished tapping the brick wall with her wand. With her were four red-headed boys. One was taller and looked to be a few years older than the rest. Another had short curly hair and a scowling expression. The last two looked identical, just as tall as the curly haired boy but much lankier, with straight hair falling into their eyes.
Before he could stop himself, Kurt blurted out. "Look Dad, real wizards!" He clapped a hand over his mouth and felt himself blushing as they all turned to look at him.
The boys with messy hair snickered, but their mother quickly hushed them and smiled at Kurt and his father. Burt spoke up and gave Kurt an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "We're just looking to get some school supplies. Looks like you know the way."
"I know it well, don't I? This is the eighth year I'm here getting things. Fred and George finally got their Hogwarts letters, thank goodness, finally get them out of my hair for a few minutes. Come on, right this way." She ushered her four sons in and motioned for Kurt and his father to follow. "The first thing you'll be wanting to do is go to the Gringotts to switch your muggle money for some proper currency. There you go, right down at the end of the road."
Kurt led the way, skipping down the narrow street. Both of them marveled at the enormous lobby of the bank. Burt did a double take at the long-nosed goblins, but he took a deep breath and did his best to act nonchalant as he exchanged pounds for fifty galleons.
"Can we get my owl? I know exactly which one I want!" declared Kurt.
"Let's save that for last. I'm not sure we want to be carrying a bird all around shopping with us. How about we start with your robes and stuff."
As they made their way up and down Diagon Alley for clothing, books, and a telescope, Kurt had the inescapable feeling that he was being watched. Burt felt as if he were in a dream, only it had far fewer muscle cars and football than his usual dreams. He was surprised to see that the astronomy section was just like the astronomy he'd learned from his grandfather. "Hey, maybe I can help you with this. The star charts are just, y'know, regular star charts, nothing magic or anything."
"That would be great, Dad." Kurt beamed up at him, eager to find a common interest.
At the wand shop, Kurt was surprised to be recognized immediately by the shop owner, Ollivander. "Oh my, you must be Elizabeth Goshawk's son. I didn't know she had a son."
"You knew my mother?"
"Oh yes. She was quite good at potions and transfiguration. She had a whippy rosewood wand with dragon heartstring. Rosewood is a truly lovely wood, but few wizards wield it to great effect. But by the look of you…" the old man got very close to Kurt, his face so close that Kurt could smell the coffee on his breath. "I think you might be a fine candidate for Rosewood."
Ollivander made a motion with his hand and a box floated over to them. He opened the box and handed Kurt a wand. "Rosewood, unicorn hair, swishy. Give it a try."
Kurt didn't hesitate to begin swishing it through the air. As he swished, an incredibly loud and high pitch screech tore through the shop. Burt covered his ears and doubled over. Kurt dropped the wand and the horrible noise stopped, his face scrunched up in anguish.
"Not that one," pronounced Ollivander offhandedly, already waving another box over. "Perhaps you would be better suited to a wand with phoenix feather. They can be temperamental, but you have a certain flair that might be enough to master it. Try this whippy mahogany one."
Tentatively, Kurt took the wand. He just held it there, squinting at it with suspicion.
"Go on, try it!" Ollivander insisted.
Kurt tried swishing it. The wand emitted a gush of foul smelling air, and Kurt dropped this one as he had the last.
"Hmm. Hmmmm."
"Did I do something wrong?" asked Kurt.
Ollivander turned on his heel and walked away, "hmm"ing all the way.
"Now hang on a second!" Burt called after the wandmaker. "You can't just walk away from my son!"
Without turning to respond, Ollivander went through a doorway at the back of the shop.
"Oh, we should have come here first. I should have found out whether I can actually do magic before we bought all these things," fretted Kurt. "Maybe we can return things. I'm so sorry I wasted your time, Dad."
"You didn't waste anything. I don't care who or what kind of wizard that Ollivander is. He has no right to treat you that way. I'm going to go back there and straighten this out."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea-"
Before Burt had time to do anything, Ollivander was walking briskly towards them with a new box in his hand. He was muttering something unintelligible, then said out loud, "I should have realized sooner which one I made for you."
"You… you made a wand for me?"
"Of course I made a wand for you. I make a wand for everyone who sets foot in this shop. I don't always know which wand is for who, though. The wizard doesn't choose the wand, of course, the wand chooses the wizard, and some wizards are more difficult to match than others. But anyway, give this one a go."
Burt stood by and silently prepared for another disastrous effect. Kurt shut his eyes and gave the wand a brisk wave. He scrunched them closed even tighter when he heard Burt yelp.
"Is - is that - is that what I think it is?" stuttered Burt.
"Very good indeed!" Ollivander said. "Yes, the right wand at last."
Kurt opened his eyes and let out his own yelp of surprise. Right there where Ollivander's shop counter had been was a dark green dragon, looking lazily around the room. "Oh my gosh! Is that a real dragon? Did I do that?"
Ollivander flicked his own wand at the dragon and it turned immediately back to his counter. "Just a transfigured dragon, but that's quite good for someone with no training or practice. Right then. An unusual wand for an unusual student. Silverleaf maple is the wood, a common tree in America that I experimented with for a few wands, dragon heartstring, and a springy touch. That will be five galleons."
Burt and Kurt were still staring rather dumbfounded at the counter where they'd just seen a dragon. Kurt was holding his wand, which was pointed towards the floor.
Ollivander cleared his throat. "Five galleons, then."
"Oh, right." Burt went over and paid the wandmaker. "Thank you."
By the time they left the store they had both recovered some from their shock. Kurt was absolutely prancing with joy. "That was amazing, Kurt!" Burt shouted. "You really did something amazing."
Kurt was feeling a bit dizzy with the thrill of having just done some really good magic. "Can we get my owl now? Please!"
As they approached the menagerie, Kurt remembered the prickling sensation he'd been feeling of being watched. He felt eyes boring into him. He went to the shop window for a closer look, and there he spotted a creature more beautiful than he could have imagined. For what seemed like a long time he stood planted against the window, his brown eyes locked with those inquisitive green ones.
Eventually Burt interrupted the reverie. "Are we going in or what? Looks like they have lots of owls. What kind did you say you wanted again?"
Kurt brushed past and went inside without responding. The shop was packed floor to ceiling with creatures, some fantastical and some mundane. But for Kurt, there was only one animal.
The kitten was a shade of silver that shimmered even in the dim lighting of the store, with black spots that morphed into stripes on his legs and tail, and a Z marking on his forehead. Kurt realized that it had been watching him throughout his visit to Diagon Alley. There were three other similar kittens in the cage with him, but none shone as brightly, and none of the others had a Z marking.
"Excuse me," called Kurt to the clerk. "But is this a snow leopard? I've never seen one in person." Burt came into the shop just then, and finally saw what it was his son was so fixated on.
The woman chuckled. "No, dear, that's no leopard. Just a house cat. He'll not grow to more than ten pounds."
Kurt shook his head. He couldn't believe that this was just a regular cat. "So, he's not magical or anything? What kind of cat is he?"
"He's called an Egyptian Mau. And of course he's a bit magical, seeing as he's here, isn't he? Cats like that can run over thirty miles an hour, for one. And these ones here have a bit of a knack for helping out when their wizard or witch is in trouble." She opened the cage to take out the kitten and hand it to Kurt. "Looks like this one's taken quite a fancy to you already, dear. I'd say he's chosen you, all right." She turned to Burt and winked.
"I guess you don't want an owl, then, huh Kurt?"
Kurt shook his head, grinning wide. "Nope. I just want…" he paused to consider a name. "Ziggy Stardust, I think."
Burt paid in galleons for the kitten. He picked up the bags of school supplies he'd helped Kurt buy. "I guess you're all ready for Hogwarts now. You're going to be great there, I know it."
"You know, I think you're right!"