Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“The Demon Ligur is dead.”

The judge bowed his head and wrote something down, his mouth set in a firm line. He must have been at least eighty years old, with a rounded face and a short white beard. It was remarkable that such a grandfatherly man could still carry such a vastly intimidating aura.

..Not that Crowley was intimidated, of course.

“You're sure of this?” He asked calmly without looking up from the page.

“Yes. I killed him.”

Seemingly content with that incriminating answer, the judge nodded. He made another short note.

“And of the Demon Hastur?”

Crowley shrugged.

The judge hummed disapprovingly, laying down his pen and fixing his gaze on the shackled man standing before him. On the left of Crowley stood a dark-skinned woman in a cream suit, who held a sharply tapered wand directly against his side. She was slight, yet deceptively strong, as Crowley had learnt while she frog marched him here from his cell.

To his right, he could sense the derisive eyes of the jury boring into his head, despite them being entirely hidden from view behind a pane of enchanted glass.

Haven't they ever heard of a simple two-way mirror?

Turning his head, Crowley faced the panel. There was nothing reflected back at him as he stared into the glass, which shimmered faintly, like an oil slick. He had a vague feeling he had made direct eye contact with someone on the other side, sensing them squirm.

He hoped by some miracle it was that damned Aziraphale.

The glowing cords around his wrists begin to tighten threateningly, and his head snapped back towards the judge.

“You understand the terms of your sentence depend entirely on both the accuracy and the value of this testimony, Crowley.”

It wasn't a question. Crowley nodded anyway, uncharacteristically compliant.
This trial wasn't going quite as well as he had hoped.. But probably about as well as he should have expected.

“Then if that is really all you have for me today,” He sighed impatiently, banging a silver gavel firmly against the stand. “Court adjourned. We shall reconvene tomorrow.”

Crowley let out a breath… He'd been given a reprieve.

The woman placed a hand firmly on his arm and began steering Crowley towards the exit, her needle-sharp wand pressed to his rib-cage. He turned his head once more towards the concealed jury, feeling that same unmistakable sensation of eye contact.

“Lovely seeing you all,” he shouted back with a devilish grin, as he was led forcibly out the door. “Next time.. May we meet on a better occasion!”

***

"Look, Adam, see that ginger-haired lady over there? She'll be teaching us how to fly.”

Pepper was pointing towards a tight-lipped woman standing on the crowded platform, dressed in a pristine grey suit. She was clutching the handle of her luggage as if someone might try and take it from her. She couldn't possibly look less like she worked with children, let alone magical ones.

Like them.

Adam blinked mutely. It was a lot to take in. He was still struggling to adjust to the fact that magic was even real. The possibility of something like flying was more than he could possibly comprehend at the moment.

“She looks very... Clean?”

“She looks like a politician. Oh-!" Pepper looped their arms together and steered Adam towards the doors of the train as they started to open. He had, for some reason, expected an old-fashioned steam train to deliver them to their magical new school.. and not the rather ordinary-looking electric locomotive they were currently speeding towards. “Hurry up, we want to get good seats!”

“Slow down, Pepper, for goodness sake!” A flustered voice shouted from behind them.

Adams mother and father followed haphazardly, looking stressed and entirely out of place. His father's face shone with perspiration as he hauled Adams luggage after them, his mother's hands full as she cradled the family dog.. ‘Dog’. Adam had nearly refused to go when he found out he couldn't take him along, only yielding with the promise that he would at least be there to see him off as he boarded the train.

“Keep up, humans!”

It was the most excited that Adam had ever seen her. Pepper had the advantage over him, having been raised with knowledge of the magical world.. always telling anyone who would listen that her mother was a formidable witch. Nobody had ever thought to take the young girl literally, of course.

She was pointing again.

“And that chubby one there, with the white hair—can you believe he’s supposed to be teaching Magical Defence? Like, fighting spells and stuff... Doesn't exactly look the part, if you ask me.”

The white-haired teacher in question looked exactly how Adam felt.. Overwhelmed. His eyes darted around the platform as if he wasn’t entirely sure how he had gotten there. He was dressed more like a librarian than a wizard, in a sandy-coloured suit with a waistcoat, which he was futzing with nervously.

There was a distinct, disappointing lack of long white beards and pointy hats on display. Even the black robes worn by the students were unremarkable, draped over an entirely ordinary high school uniform.

“Right. This is where we get on.”

Adam turned to his parents, smiling nervously. His mother smiled back, eyes swimming with tears. She was clutching Dog to her chest like a comfort blanket.

“Mum, c’mon… We talked about this.”

He prayed his mother wouldn't outright sob in front of everybody. They were most likely the only non-magical folks on the crowded platform. Adam had already noticed a couple of bemused looks here and there, from some of his soon-to-be classmates.

A pale boy with long brown hair pasted to his forehead gave Adam and his parents a scowl as he passed.

“You going to be alright, mum?” Adam asked, hoping the question didn't tip her over the edge.

“I'm fine, dear! I’m just… So happy for you." His mothers voice wobbled unconvincingly. Adam caved at the sound of it, pulling her into a tight hug. Dog wriggled between them in protest, straight into Adam's arms.

“You need to stay here, Dog, and take care of mum and dad,” He told him, fighting off the insistent licking. He heard a groan of disapproval from beside him, and turned, expecting to see the grumpy, greasy-haired boy again.

Instead, there stood a tall, thin man dressed entirely in black. His dishevelled hair was cherry red, and his eyes were obscured by dark sunglasses. He looked thoroughly irritated, and Adam realised they were blocking the entrance.

“Touching as this wildly unhygienic display is.. some of us have places to be,” he drawled. Adam stepped aside, handing Dog over to his dad, who was eyeing the man with contempt as he boarded the train.

“Surely that wasn't a teacher.. he had a face tattoo!” He spluttered, turning to his wife, who was now gazing distractedly at where the strange man had been standing. “Deidre? ..Really now, snap out of it.”

“Hm? Oh Adam, dear, you better call us; Every night you hear me!”

All the boy could managed was a quick nod, as he was impatiently pulled up into the train by Pepper. Nobody was here to see her off, at her own stubborn insistence. Adam turned back to face the exit, his parents beaming up at him proudly as the doors closed with a hiss.. And then they were gone. He let out a shaky sigh, staring at the space when their warm, welcoming faces had just been, trying to solidify the image in his mind.

“You shouldn't let yourself get too attached, kid... Those creatures are hopelessly fragile.”

Adam whipped around to face the man in dark glasses, who was leaning sedately on the luggage rack behind them.

“The dog, I mean,” he clarified, as though that helped. Adam didn't know how to respond.

“Over here, Adam!” Pepper had found them a vacant booth and was waving him over.

“On you go then, Adam.” The man nodded towards her, before heading in the opposite direction down the train. Adam watched him leave, feeling suitably preturbed.

“Was that a teacher?” He asked Pepper as he took a seat across from her, “He seems... really weird. And dad was right, he does have a face tattoo.”

“I don't know him,” Pepper confessed. She didn't like not knowing things. “I suppose he must work at the school, or he wouldn't be here. He wasn't at the induction.”

Adam had missed his undoubtedly much-needed school induction day. At that point, he was yet to even know about the existence of said “School for the Magically Gifted”

By the time he discovered his abilities, (following a rather awkward incident involving a downpour of live codfish at his eleventh birthday party..) he’d barely had enough time to buy his uniform.

The doors of the train opened again suddenly, this time making a melodic noise, almost like a wind chime. The white-haired teacher hurried through, out of breath. It seemed as though he'd only just made it onboard, as the doors immediately closed behind him and the train lurched into action, rumbling forward. He adjusted his bow tie and took a seat at the vacant booth opposite their own, still slightly out of breath.

Adam wondered how he could have possibly been on the same platform as them and yet still nearly missed the train.

The children watched out the window as the vast city of London quickly gave way to sprawling countryside, the train travelling at impossible speed.

“Do you feel ready for all of this?” Pepper asked, her voice uncharacteristically calm, as if coaxing a frightened animal from it's cage "Must be a bit weird, all this.."

She knew Adam, probably better than anyone. Despite his cheerful attitude, she could tell he was more than a little anxious. He’d always been the more sensitive of the two, in all the years she'd known him.. And was far closer to his parents.

“We’ll always be your mum and dad. Adam, nothing will ever change that.. We’re so sorry we didn't tell you sooner..”

Adam didn't want to think about that part of the revelation.

“I'm ready. Look at this; I've been practising." Adam retrieved a golden oak wand from his pocket. Glossy, and new, yet already notably notched on one end, having been dropped a fair few times already. The boy focused, and the end of the wand began to glow softly.

“See?”

“..See what? You haven't done anything yet.”

“Have so! I'm making it glow!”

“..Ooh. Uhm, Yeah. Good work.”

He wafted the still glowing wand about absentmindedly, earning a disapproving cough from the professor seated across the aisle. Adam smiled apologetically, tucking it back into his pocket.

A paper airplane drifted down the carriage, straight over Pepper's head, coming to land on the table between them. Something was written on it. She unfolded it, then scowled, screwing it tightly into a ball. Adam noticed the greasy hair boy peering over from a couple of booths away.

“Should I even ask?” Adam said, and Pepper shook her head. So he didn't.

***

Aziraphale had very nearly not boarded the train. He sighed heavily, taking in the blurry countryside scenery as they made their way north, towards Edinburgh. The train moved to quickly to make for a pleasant viewing experience. Instead, the man pulled out a trusty thermos of Earl Grey, alongside a well-thumbed copy of Persuasion, and attempted to steady his nerves. The young girl across from him was staring quite blatantly, looking thoroughly disappointed.

Not quite what you imagined from your defensive magic teacher, I suppose? He thought to himself. He couldn't exactly blame her.

What was I thinking, agreeing to this? So much for early retirement. I should have become a librarian... Or opened a bookshop.

He hadn't expected to see Crowley at the station. He hadn't thought they'd allow him to make his own way to the school. Delivered by armed guards seemed more fitting, or an enchanted cab at the very least.

If Crowley had also spotted him, he hadn't let on. It had been months since they had last seen one another, or rather, since Aziraphale had last seen him, grinning like loon at his own trial, seemingly not at all concerned with seeming remorseful. Neither of them had changed much since that time. At least.. not outwardly anyway.

He still had that same, infuriatingly effortless allure, heads turning to gawk as he'd sauntered towards the train, looking for all the world like he had every right to be there.

Where did he get the nerve..

Aziraphale stared at the pages of his open book, not reading a single word, too busy replaying the last conversation he'd had with Gabriel.. Again.

“This is lunacy, surely? I mean honestly.. He worked for Beelzebub! He's a Demon..”

“Reformed Demon, Aziraphale” Gabriel corrected. The Headmaster was, as always, the embodiment of corporate composure. “His testimonies were invaluable to the Divine Council, and he has been deemed safe to be released under observation. I trust their judgement... As should you.”

“But, why here of all places? Why employ him at a school rather than.. I don't know… A cemetery perhaps?”

Crowley had always loved spooky places; he’d fit right in.. And at least all the innocent people surrounding him there would be already dead.

“The decision has been made, Aziraphale. Really, What better place to keep an eye on him than a school full of the most powerful and trustworthy wizards in Britain? Not to mention–" Gabriel had placed his hands on both Aziraphale's shoulders, as much holding him hostage as he was being kind “ The very Angel who helped bring him to justice in the first place? The Council and I have every faith in you to handle this, Aziraphale.."

He knew he shouldn't question the decisions of the Divine Council, no matter how unfathomable they seemed. And he couldn't have possibly turned down such a generous job offer, in one of the most prestigious magical schools in the UK.. It would have been unthinkably rude.

They’ve confiscated his wand. How much damage can he really do without that?...

“Excuse me, Professor?”

Aziraphale's mind snapped back to the present. The curly-haired boy was staring at him now, over the top of an old ‘Just William’ annual. His friend had fallen asleep, using her jacket as a blanket.

“Are you alright? Only.. you've been reading the same page of that book since we passed Newark.”

Aziraphale had no idea how long ago that was.

“Ah, yes, quite alright, thank you. A little preoccupied, that's all… Forgive me, I don't believe we've met.”

A freckled hand stretched across the aisle

“Adam Young. Nice to meet you, sir.”

Ah, Adam, the little wizard who'd been adopted by a couple of mundane humans. What a startling revelation all this must be for the poor boy.

Aziraphale shook the offered hand enthusiastically.

“A pleasure to meet you, Adam; my name is Aziraphale, but I understand that is quite the mouthful. Professor Fell will do just fine. I met your friend there at the induction, such a bright girl!..”

Pepper smiled in her sleep.

“..You're lucky to have an old friend to help you settle in. I know it can be a little daunting. Being new and all.”

“Aren't you new here too, Professor?”

“I went to school here myself.. a very long time ago." Aziraphale smiled fondly, “I suppose it must have changed quite a bit since then.”

“Do you have any old friends at the school then.. to help you settle in?”

“Well! I suppose, uhm..” Aziraphale paused, and seemed to reconsider whatever he'd been about to say.
“..No. Not exactly.”

Adam felt like he had said something wrong, but he wasn't sure what. It was a feeling he was quite used to.

“Well, I hope you make some new friends, Professor Aza..Aziff..Professor Fell.

“Yes uh.. Thank you. You and I both.”

Mercifully, Adam shifted his attention back to his book, allowing Aziraphale to return to his favourite pastime— fruitless, unrelenting rumination.

***

The boy.. He is approaching.

***

Through the smudged glass of the carriage door, Crowley could just about make out the familiar fuzzy glow of snowy locks, then an outstretched arm as Aziraphale leaned across the aisle to shake someone's hand. Or maybe he was handing out travel sweets. That seemed like the kind of thing he would do. Humbugs or pear drops... or perhaps some crumbly homemade tablet, seeing as they were currently hurtling towards Scotland at breakneck speed.

The train ride was anything but smooth, yet Crowley had stayed stubbornly standing throughout the journey, leaning casually against a door marked ‘FIRE EXIT. DO NOT LEAN.’

He glared at the halo of white curls, willing the head to turn. What was the point of standing here with such nonchalant indifference if nobody was even noticing?

The train rocked like a ship, swaying Crowley like a sailor. A particularly strong lurch nearly sent him through the window.

“There's seats, you know. For a reason.”

Crowley hadn't heard Michael enter the cabin from the opposite side. He lolled his head lazy to face them, pouting. They stood unnaturally straight, seemingly unaffected by the train's movement.

“Miiiichael dude, how are you?" Crowley's voice dripped with faux enthusiasm, expression unchanged: “Don't you look... clean.”

“Well, I can imagine that in comparison to Demons, we civilised witches and wizards must seem positively immaculate.”

Crowley shrugged.

“I wouldn't know, would I?”

Michael's head twitch, and Crowley could particularly hear her teeth grinding behind that tight-lipped smile.
It must be torture.. Knowing everything but commanded to say nothing.

The Divine Council had abolished the Demons, who had never even officially existed to begin with. The movement had been quashed, the covens dismantled. To imply any Wizard walking free was still affiliated with them.. Well, it would be outright blasphemy.

“Hm. When I’d heard they were hiring hellions as maintenance workers this year, I was imaging Imps and Gargoyles, not...” Michael trailed off, scanning Crowley up and down disapprovingly.“Well anyway, we mustn't question the decisions of the Divine Council.”

He'd been hearing that particular line a whole lot lately. The Divine Council was starting to sound more like some unimpeachable cult than a secretive governmental institution.

“Speaking of... didn't you apply to become an Angel, Michael? Whatever happened there huh? Didn't see you at the trial.” Crowley asked, feigning ignorance.

Michael's forced smile nearly twisted into a full on scowl, before she caught herself.

“The Divine Council-” Her voice was steely “-determined that my particular skills would be better utilised elsewhere, in a less militant position than an Angel.. I shall be continuing to shape the young minds of the future, as Professor of Aviation, bestowing upon the youth the unparalleled gift of flight!”

“..Right.” Crowley scoffed

He’d have thought a ‘militant’ position would have suited said witch perfectly… Certainly more so than it suited bloody Aziraphale.

“Look here Demon, I’ll have you know there are people would give their right arm to teach at this school.. It is a highly respectable, venerated career, only offered to the most proficient witches and wizards in their fields... I wouldn't expect you to understand!”

Crowley's mouth stretched slowly into a grin that could best be described as ‘shit-eating’, if Michael could possibly comprehend using such a vile phrase.

“Good to know–” He said with a smug drawl, holding out his hand in mock introduction.

“-Professor A. J. Crowley, Botany and Potions, at your service.”

*