Malec Week: Harry Potter AU
So I’m not attuned to the entire Harry Potter universe, so instead I used it as a two-word prompt and let the words fall where they may. Enjoy!
Alec never saw the harm in reading. Reading was a means of gaining information, new or old, in different styles of writing and diagrams. The Institute’s library was full of “boring” books – Magnus always made a point of calling them that – which were neither stimulating or worth reading the spine.
The best books were part of the restricted sections, which, under prior management, had been locked up tightly. Now, as Alec was the Head of said Institute, he had those same keys to read, see, and do whatever he wanted to those books. He learned his lesson, however, when the first book he picked up tried to eat him, and the second nearly set the entire building on fire while in a tornado.
That had been hard to explain to some of his co-workers. Underhill had understood. And then he followed in Alec’s footsteps and nearly made the place turn to rubble.
Alec found safety in exposing his children to books that would neither spontaneously combust nor threaten the lives of others simply by looking in its direction. Lost in the mundane world of literature, Alec had gotten lost among the black hole that was ordering books and other things online and ended up buying the entire collection of Harry Potter.
Magnus scoffed when Alec had first showed him. There’s absolutely no truth in their magic, he had told him. Wands are ridiculous, and thus Magnus launched into speaking about how there was only one kind of wand he liked handling, and Alec straddled him on the kitchen floor.
Every night, Alec read to both of their boys. Rafael had refused to listen to such nonsense and removed himself from the room whenever Max demanded another chapter. It took half of the first book for Rafael to stay in the room and question the logistics of the fictional world.
How could someone live in a closet? Who needs that many presents? Who would want a rat – wasn’t Uncle Simon one? Does that count? I want an owl, papa.
Alec never saw the harm in reading such adventures aloud.
His sons, he had learned, were adept readers like himself. They paid attention to every detail. They started quoting the book aloud throughout the day, even sending relevant fire messages whenever they pleased. Those privileges were revoked when one was sent into their bedroom when entangled around one another. It had progressed into buying costumes and feigning accents.
He realized half way into the series.
Alec got off of work early that day. He was the boss, and therefore had the most flexible hours than anyone else, and Magnus was working on a treaty negotiation in India with their warlock ambassador. Alec entered their apartment, as he usually did, and tossed his keys into the bowl beside the door.
He made his way into the kitchen to find the room devoid of his children – or the kitchen chairs. It wasn’t uncommon for them to suddenly go missing. They had also started making forts out of their blankets to read ahead in the books. In search of the children, and consequently, chairs, Alec made his way up into their bedroom
Which was also empty. Their beds were made, complete with blankets and extra throws, and their things were still in their rooms. It took that split second for full-bloom panic to set in his chest.
This could not happen when Magnus was gone. Alec was a good – no, excellent – father, and he’d be damned if he let anything happen the second his husband was gone. He turned on his heel quickly, turned the handle of the door, and – there was faint, muffled giggles.
Alec froze. He spun back around – and to his horror – made sure to look left, then right, before turning his direction upwards.
“Hi, papa,” Rafael sheepishly greeted.
Alec could feel all the blood rush from his head to his feet. There was nothing – no book, manual, or parent-teaching group – that could have prepared him for that moment. His children were sitting on the ceiling, upside-down, as though the gravity had shifted to allow them to sit there. They were dressed in their Harry Potter costumes.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” Max’s hand shot out from the folds of his robe, his hand clutching a twig they had picked up from the park one afternoon, claiming it was his ‘chosen wand, papa’. The lamp that was perched beside Max’s bed shook slightly before levitating up towards the ceiling, flipping around, and settling beside the blue boy.
“By the Angel,” Alec muttered.
“Are you going to tell daddy?” Rafael was always more perceptive with Alec.
Alec ran a hand through his dark locks. It was one of his few tells, as Magnus reminded him, that revealed his stress, but way of thinking through situations. “No,” he decided. “I can do this.”
“Lumos!” Max cried again. The entire apartment went completely dark, but the stick – wand – was lit perfectly at its tip with a ball of bright white light.
Alec wasn’t so sure he could do this alone after all. He dug in his pocket for his phone. He flicked it open, found Magnus number – “Expelliarmus!”
Alec phone shot straight into the wall. The device poked out from the dented hole in the wall. Max giggled, of course, in delight. Rafael gasped.
“Max!” his older son exclaimed.
“I want to get down,” he said simply. Calmly. That’s what Alec needed to be.
The younger boy cowered into his robes. “I don’t know how.”
“¿Qué quieres decir con que no sabes?” Rafael hissed.
“Rafe,” Alec stepped in. Children fighting on the ceiling, that he could not reach no matter his height, was not on his list of things he wanted to happen while Magnus was gone for the weekend. “Max. I need you to calm down.”
His blue boy had turned into a blubbering mess. Tears stained his cheeks and he was trying to sniffle through the waves. “I don’t know how.”
“I know, blueberry, but I need you to stop crying if I can help.” Max took large, hiccupping gasps of air in attempt to calm down.
“Mira. Mírame.” Rafael grabbed Max’s hands away from his face. Smearing away the tears was only making the mess worse. “Breathe with me.”
Rafael coached his younger brother into controlling his breath, and in relation, lower them from the ceiling without him noticing. They fell, slowly, turned, and landed safely in the kitchen chairs. “Perfect.”
“I’m sorry, papa,” Max immediately turned, arms stretched for his father.
“You’re okay, blueberry.” Alec scooped him up, holding him tight against his chest. Their hearts were beating beside one another, both erratically thumping away with fear. He pulled Rafe into his side, giving him a thankful squeeze. “You’re okay.”
Magnus came home on Sunday sometime in the evening. He kicked off his shoes, threw his jacket into the corner of the room, knowing it would magically find itself in their closet by morning, and followed the noise of speaking into the living room. His boys were huddled together in the middle of the sofa, Alec’s head rising above the other two near his neck. He made sure to stay quiet, cautious of any sleeping bodies, and ran a ringed hand through his husband’s hair.
Alec no longer jerked whenever he suddenly approached, but instead bent his head backwards to greet the man. Magnus pressed a kiss to his hairline. “I trust everything went well?”
His husband hummed. “As well as expected.”
“What does that mean?” Magnus circled the couch, pausing to stare at the cardboard box sitting beside the reclining chair in the corner. He couldn’t see any specific objects, other than the stick Max begged to have one day. “What happened?”
Alec shook his head slowly. Max was curled up in his lap, head rested perfectly in the crook of his neck, and Rafael took sanction on his side in a mirrored position. Magnus loved seeing them like this, but not with no much tension still hanging in the air.
“I’ll tell you later,” Alec promised.
Magnus nodded, accepting that for now until the truth was told later. He settled beside their eldest son. He jerked awake at the sudden shift in weight before realizing there was no attack on his life, and then repositioned himself into his other father’s arms.
“Harry Potter.” Rafael groaned in his arms. Magnus rose a quizzical brow at his husband.
He had a lot of explaining to do.