A Million Things {Hamilton/Harry Potter Universe}

Prologue

AN: Hi! I'm very excited to be starting this book. Obviously, neither Hamilton or the Harry Potter world belong to me and belong to Lin-Manuel Miranda and J.K Rowling. It is hard to combine two story timelines into one book, so just bear with me. Don't forget to vote and comment! This is my first attempt at a crossover so I'd like to know what you think ;)

In the middle of the Caribbean, there was the small island of the name St. Criox. By appearance, it had the air of paradise with white, sandy beaches and clear blue water that sparkled like saphires. It was quite popular if one was going on a Caribbean cruise, island-hopping around the Virgin Islands.

On a day like any other, St. Criox was about to recieve an unusual visitor.

At the end of a pier, many tourists were streaming from a large cruise ship, excited at the prospect of spending time at the beach or shopping at the many little stores that lined the streets. But there was one person who looked terribly out of place.

For one thing, he was wearing a long, blue robe in the middle of a tropical island. He was old with a long white beard and half moon-shaped glasses.

As he reached the end of the pier, a little boy said, "Look, mommy! It's Santa!"

His older brother argued, "No, he's dressed as Gandalf!" The man merely smiled as the boys' mother quickly ushered them away with an apolegetic look on her face.

Before long, he arrived at a street lined with shabby-looking shops selling typical tourist junk. The old man stopped at the porch of one shop, where a large, sunburned man was dozing in a rocking chair.

"Excuse me," the old man said politely.

The snoozing man jerked and opened a bleary, bloodshot eye. "What do you want?" he grunted, still half-asleep.

"I'm here to see Mr. Hamilton."

At these words, the man stood up abruptly, lookinga bit nervous. "Are you a Social Worker? I wasn't told of any inspection today."

"No, I am Professor Dumbledore," he said simply. " I am the Headmaster of a school. Mr. Hamilton has just been accepted into it. Very prestigous," Dumbledore explained patienly. "I have his acceptence letter."

The large man held out his hand. "I'll take it. I'm his guardian."

"No," Dumbledore said firmly, but kindly. "I have to give into to the recipient. Only."

The other man grunted and jerked his head towards the door. "He's inside."

A faint bell tinkled when Dumbledore entered the small shop. The shelved were lined with all kinds of merchandise all plastered with ST. CRIOX in large, colorful letters. At a smalll counter, a young boy about the age of eleven with dark brown hair and a thin, tanned face was scribbling something in a notebook. Store records, maybe. A large pile of binders and books lay stacked at his feet.

"Everything is half off," the boy said, at hearing the bell, not looking up from his notebook.

There was a silence, then Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Ahem." The boy looked up and did a double-take at the man's bizarre clothing choices. "Its rude to stare," Dumbledore said pleasantly, after a few seconds.

"Right, sorry." The boy turned bright red. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I'm Professor Dumbledore. Are you Mr. A. Hamilton?"

"Yes, I'm Alexander Hamilton," he said, eying him warily. It seemed that not many people came looking for him on a regular basis. "Are you the Social Worker?"

"No, I'm not," Dumbledore said. "Do they come by often?"

The boy stared a moment, as if deciding his answer. "Every now and then," he answered offhandedly. "Then why are you here? Sir," he added quickly.

Dumbledore unearthed a letter enclosed in thick, yellow parchment from his robes and held it out to Alexander. "I believe this is for you."

"A letter?!" The young boy's dark eyes lit up. "Is it from my father? I heard he could be in St. Kitts. Or my brother, James? He works on the other side of the island."

The old man's blue eyes twinkled sadly. "No, son," he said. "It is a letter from the school I run. Hogwarts."

Alexander laughed. "There is no such place." But he took the letter and read the address out loud. "To Mr. A. Hamilton. Number 16, Tourist Shop. St. Criox, The Virgin Islands. The Caribbean." He gave Dumbledore a suspicous look and tore open the envelope. He scanned the first few lines and his eyes grew wide. "Is....is it true?" he whisphered. "I've been accepted to a school of... wizardry?"

"Yes, indeed, Mr. Hamilton. You are a wizard. Do you accept?"