A/N: And here is the rewrite of Silver lining now called Otherworldly, an OC story following Allyson Gilbert, as she navigates herself through the Wizarding World. Enjoy the story and updates will be twice a week.
All original characters and storylines do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling.
Enjoy the story and let me know what you think. Good or bad, I love the feedback (especially if you see some typos). I hate them, but they do appear quite often.
o.O.o
Summary: Allyson Gilbert has always lived for the expectations of her father, but rarely met them. Meeting his expectations became even harder when she found out she was a witch. Now, all she can do is attempting to make some sense out of the sudden absurdity and try to find out why someone is trying to steal something that is hidden inside her new school.
(Partly AU, covering Harry Potter's years at Hogwarts and the Second Wizarding War, but things will change drastically).
Prologue
'Childhood is not from birth to a certain age; it's the Kingdom where nobody dies.'
Edna St. Vincent Millay
It was a chilly, clear summer morning, which in itself was a surprise in the crowded streets of London. The sun stood high in a cloudless sky while people wound around over the sidewalks. Amongst them was a young girl, obediently standing still in front of a taller, dark-haired woman. The girl scowled while the woman, obviously her mother, applied sunblock onto her pale forehead, leaving it a milky-white and gleaming, but her eyes sparkled with mirth, betraying that she felt uncaring for the white stripes on her face. When mother and daughter both were assured she would not get burned by the sun, they followed the throng of people. The girl, still very young, walked at the hand of her mother and a man, tall with dark hair and sunglasses on his nose, sneered while placing an odd gentle hand on the mother's back. He was obviously the girl's father. As they walked, the people around them seemed to unconsciously part away. The man was intimidating; his strut confident and his jaw set.
"Father," the young girl started, noticing the irritated expression on his face, "something the matter?"
"No, sweetheart, there's nothing wrong."
The young girl shrugged helplessly and continued her trot along the crowded sidewalk.
As the little family waved through the throng of people, the girl; she couldn't be older than eleven years old, pointed at a small dilapidated alley; reading 'Charing Cross Road'.
"That's it!" She decided excitedly, tugging her mother towards the road.
Crossing the street, the little family found themselves in a dilapidated, forgotten part of London. The cobblestone street was deserted, the only sounds came from a soft wind rustling the old cracked leaves in one corner. The girl thought the street to be a bit creepy, the soft rays of sunlight reflecting off of the murky shop windows only contributing to the spooky feeling.
"It should be here…"
"Are you sure, Allyson?" Catherine Gilbert asked, an almost inaudible accent coating her voice.
"Professor McGonagall told us it was in the southern corner of London," Allyson said, no accent to be detected. An accent which should better not be there with the number of teachers and strict governesses she had had in the past.
The man, Mikeal Gilbert, traced his finger over the band of his wristwatch before flitting his eyes over the abandoned properties. "I believe the woman did say something about a pub only our daughter could see." The doubt clearly evident in his voice, but just as his daughter no accent could be heard.
Allyson nodded, slipping her hand out of her mother's and glanced through the street; looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. It took her a moment before she noticed a broken-down inn. The pub McGonagall had told them about stood awkwardly between an old second-hand bookshop and a record shop.
"It's there," she decided, pointing at the empty wall her parents could only see. Allyson, on the other hand, saw two dirty windows; through which she could barely see inside, and the paint peeling of the walls. There was a sign hanging above the door with the name 'The Leaky Cauldron' and it actually seemed to be leaking out of the bottom. Taking her mother's hand again, Allyson smiled, before pulling the older woman along. Allyson's mother, her hair falling in perfect curls, tightened her grip on her daughter's hand, as she stepped through a wall and into an old grubby inn. The place was very different from the other restaurants and bars Allyson had been in so far, the room vastly bigger than it seemed from the outside and it smelled slightly of beer, tobacco and cinnamon. Catherine blinked tiredly, glancing around in awe, while Mikeal Gilbert merely massaged his jaw. His shoulders were tense, but other than that, the man showed no sign something was wrong. It was a trait Allyson had always envied him for.
Sunlight poured in through the paned windows, making golden rectangles on the floor and illuminated the small specs of dust floating through the area. Despite the hour, the large room was already packed with people: Witches and Wizards, funnily dressed in either robes or bizarre ensembles she'd never seen before. Although the pub was dingy and Missus Simpson (their cleaning lady) would have a fit if she saw the amount of grease on the tables, the atmosphere was light and cheerful.
After a few minutes the strangeness wore off and both her parents seemed to settle a bit. Catherine Gilbert ran her hand once more through her hair, fingers clasping tightly around a dark lock before her features finally relaxed. Allyson smiled sympathetically at her mother, before climbing up onto a stool and waved at the bartender.
"Excuse me," Allyson softly started, ignoring her father's sneer as he glared at a particular shabby spot in the corner. The man, dressed in a fading violent and green waistcoat turned around; he was old and quite bald. When he smiled brightly Allyson realised with a small prickle, that he missed all of his teeth.
"How can I help, little lady?"
"Um, how do I get to Diagon Alley?"
"Ah, Hogwarts, kid?" He asked, glancing at her parents huddled together while staring transfixed at a self-cleaning cloth, which was making circular movements over a tabletop.
Allyson nodded, shooting a fleeting glance towards her parents. "They're not used to much." She said in ways of explanation.
The bartender clucked his tongue before glancing at the girl again. "Muggle-born I take it?"
Allyson nodded again.
"Okay, follow me." The man said, drying his hands on a towel. Beckoning her parents, Allyson followed the bartender. They waved through the empty tables and chairs and were led out through the back of the bar and out into a small stone courtyard. The only things occupying the area were a trashcan and a number of weeds curling out from between the stones. Yet, there was nowhere to go, the stone courtyard was blocked by a huge cinderblock wall.
"You only need a wand." The bartender said, pulling out his wand and pointed it at the wall before tapping at some bricks. "Three up and two across, remember that."
"Okay, thank you!" Allyson said as she noticed the wall shudder. A moment later the bricks he tapped wiggled slightly and a small hole started to appear; growing wider and wider until the wall had completely moved aside and left the little group with the view on a very large archway.
The long winding alleyway was bustling with activity. Her mother chuckled softly as she noticed the strange clothing and her father gave a great suffering sigh. Allyson paid him little heed and cocked her head to the side as she noticed a stack of cauldrons, towering in front of a shop. They looked as if it was only a matter of time before gravity would pull them harshly back against the cobbled stones.
"This is amazing," Allyson whispered gleefully and clapped her hands together. Owls flew past their heads and the large crowd of people created an indiscernible hum as they spoke to each other.
"Shall we go?" Allyson asked as she stood on her tip-toes trying to get a view of the shops further down the alleyway. There were a few shops where children had their faces pressed up against the glass windows. The shops that seemed to be extremely popular were some kind of joke-shop in which things exploded and a shop which sold brooms. The broom shop was by far one of the most popular shops with children milling in and around.
Catherine placed a gentle hand on Allyson's shoulder when she reached out of her parents reach, peering through the windows of the shops opposite of them. Her lips jutted out in slight defiance as her curiosity was left to fester and she stretched up on her tiptoes once again to see further down the street.
"Where to first?" Mikeal asked and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, who smiled gently, also looking around in wonder.
"The bank?" Allyson asked, glancing at the bookstore adjacent to her. "The money here is different. 'Gringotts', I think."
"Yes, Gringotts the Goblin bank," her mother nodded. Both Allyson and her parents had several expectations of the goblins. Muggle folklore had it that goblins were monstrous creatures. Temperamental, malicious, greedy and grotesque. Growing up with folklore and Greek stories, Allyson was understandably interested in the creatures that had more than once haunted her nightmares.
She pursed her lips in thought, before taking out the Hogwarts' letter from her pocket. The Deputy Headmistress who had visited, Professor McGonagall, had explained that Wizards and witches used their own currency. If she recalled correctly you could only exchange currency at a Wizarding bank and Diagon Alley only had one.
After fiddling with the envelope, she found the small little map, which Professor McGonagall had quickly scribbled down on the back of her list of equipment, and turned it around until she was looking at it from the right angle (or so she hoped).
"It should be further down the street." She mumbled, before heading off in the direction she thought the bank should be. Her parents followed quickly, obviously afraid they would lose sight of the eleven-year-old.
Considering the crowded alley and the throng of people, it was difficult to navigate through the unfamiliar place. There were many odd shops and Allyson stopped more than once to glance at the window displays. There was an ice-cream shop where the ice appeared to be made by itself and a robe shop in which a pair of robes danced in the window shop; a mannequin bowing towards the several spectators.
Had she been worried about finding the bank, that vanished the moment she noticed the building a few minutes later. Gringotts was, by far, the tallest multistoried building in the alley and gleamed almost invitingly in the soft summer sun. Yet, its intimidating old construction seemed to be quite out of place next to the obvious newer buildings around. Two small creatures, which must have been goblins, stood astride the burnished bronze doors, dressed in strange uniforms of scarlet and gold.
Her exceptions were not fully met.
Although Allyson would never call a goblin handsome, they were certainly not as grotesque as the folklore stories made her believe. Both creatures were about three heads shorter than she was with cleverly pointed faces and long hands and feet.
When she and her parents passed, curiously peering down at them, they eyed the small family balefully. Yet, they did incline their heads slightly and opened the burnished bronze double-doors. Allyson ascended the stone lobby steps quickly and stepped into a small entrance Hall. The bank was silent, as it appeared most shoppers had yet to arrive or had already passed the bank. Allyson's father pulled his wallet out of his breast pocket and glanced at one of the tiny creatures behind the counters.
Setting up an account — she received a new golden key and happily showed it to her mother —took only thirty minutes, yet, her father acted so haughtily Allyson pretended she didn't know him during the rest of visit. A Goblin named Anlok led them down the dim sloping hallways before being all but shoved into one of the carts that awaited them. Allyson hadn't been to an amusement park before, but she suspected that the frigid air rush and the deep drop down through the twisting maze of passageways gave a similar feeling. The metal wheels of the cart shrieked ominously and her stomach did a somersault more than once before they arrived at a vault in the lowest part of the Bank. If Anlok was to believed it had the best security money could buy and her father looked smug for it.
When they headed out onto the shopping street later that day, the sun had ascended fully into the sky, warm rays glinting off against the copper door. As they passed the double doors once again, Allyson noticed golden letters below a golden crest; 'Fortius Quo Fidelius'
"And what does it mean, love?" Her father asked, following his daughter's eyes.
Cheeks turning pink, Allyson glowered at the tall man, while Catherine eased a non-existent wrinkle out of her long dress. A passenger gave them an amused look and seemed expectant of the answer and Allyson glared at the man with a scowl.
"Allyson?"
"Fine," she sighed. "Fidelius means something along the lines of faithful or loyal. And Fortius means strength. So 'the more faithful, the stronger' or 'Strength through loyalty' but it might as well be 'loyalty makes us stronger'."
Mikeal smiled before sneering at the man. The stranger disappeared quickly and Allyson pursed her lips. Her father had a way of putting so much hostility into one look that people were easily unnerved by him. He also had a way with words.
"Bloody impudent—"
"Okay," Catherine cut in, sending her husband an unamused look. "Let's start our shopping before your father gets into one of his foolish fights by being a democratic political-incorrect-fool. What's on the list, Allyson?"
"Erm, robes, a wand, books, obviously books and I think I also need Potions equipment," Allyson answered. Despite it being afternoon, the shopping area was no less busy. If anything people seemed to be even more in a rush than before and ran about in all directions. Children, but also several adults, were still crowding around the shop windows. Allyson listened with slight curiosity as the merits of the different broom models and Quidditch teams — probably the sport McGonagall briefly told them about — were discussed. It always amazed her how fanatic people behaved when sports were discussed. A few shops further sold telescopes and old-fashioned measuring scales — although considering the Victorian way of dressing, she supposed they were not old-fashioned in the Wizarding world — and Allyson stopped before the shop window. A large leather-bound book with star maps was displayed just beside a large telescope and she watched with childish glee as the constellations winked at her.
"—Allyson?"
"Huh?"
Her father gave her a miffed look before pointing at the robe shop. "We should handle your wardrobe first."
"Right," she admitted. It seemed logical that they'd deal with the most unpleasant task first. The bell above the door chimed when they stepped inside of Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. There was a long line in front of the small wooden stool in the back of the shop and Allyson frowned. Children of all ages stood huddled together and adults spoke in slow urgent whispers.
Sucking her cheeks between her molars Allyson curled a lock of dark hair around her fingers and waited for her turn. Her mother easily lost herself between the folds of fabric. With her father standing next to her, she began examining the different robes and tried on several pointed heads to amuse him, while Allyson started a conversation with a boy two times her height.
Cedric Diggory was a pleasant, polite thirteen-year-old. His parents were both magical and he was a source of information. Just like a large part of the Wizarding world, he was a fan of Quidditch (also played it as a seeker) and Allyson was slightly amused with the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about it.
Allyson had always related to older children. Perhaps they were less inclined to hurt you like children her age were or perhaps it was because they had matured a bit more. Either way, the time passed far quicker than she'd expected.
"Ah," Cedric said jovially, "it's my turn. I'll see you at Hogwarts?"
"Definitely,"
She watched him move towards the stool and leant against the wall. She now knew a bit more about Hogwarts and although she enjoyed Hufflepuff House's description — patient, loyal and dedication — she didn't think she was all that good with other people. It was worth considering, of course, and thanks to Cedric, she now somewhat understood the sorting process. He promised her it was nothing to worry about and she took his word for it.
It took thirty more minutes before it was Allyson's turn and another fifteen minutes before her measurements were taken. Her father, being in a most tolerant mood, allowed her to pick out a regular robe from the shop. When they reentered the street it was almost four-thirty in the afternoon.
"We still have to get my books, Potions and Herbology equipment and of course, a wand," Allyson told her parents excitedly. Normally, she liked to be meticulous in her searches, but right now there was too much to see and to take in. She wanted to see what being a Witch would offer her.
"It might be wise if we split up," her mother decided, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her dark-blue dress.
"I suppose so," Allyson admitted and looked at her father.
The man regarded his daughter and wife shrewdly for a long moment, before shaking his head: "I suppose that would be best. Hand me your list, Allyson, I'll look for your potions supplies." He looked extraordinarily displeased.
"In the meantime, we can find you a wand," Allyson said heartily amused.
"Going for a wand shouldn't take that long, I suppose," Catherine agreed, absentmindedly running her fingers through her daughter's hair. "And would I be terrible off; if I said you also wanted to browse through the books in that bookstore?"
The girl smiled. "I hoped I could."
Her mother smiled indulgently and Allyson stretched up to her tiptoes, trying to catch sight of a wand shop. She found one, mere seconds later. If she hadn't been looking for it, it would have gone unnoticed. It was shabby and the windows were just as dirty as the in ones in the Leaky Cauldron.
Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC
Smiling at the older woman; mother and daughter entered the shop. The doorbell chimed and Allyson felt her heartbeat elevate. The store was small, dusty and dimly lit. There were countless narrow boxes stacked high up, covered with a fast layer of dust. A small wooden counter stood behind, but otherwise, the shop seemed vacant.
Allyson slowly inched further into the shop, shaking her head when dust was disturbed and fell on top of her. It seemed like Ollivander's shop was not a very busy place.
It took several more minutes before a frail old man with blue grey-eyes appeared from the back of the shop. He was only a few inches taller than Allyson, but his glassy eyes shone with strong alertness.
"Good afternoon," he said, his voice soft and even, his eyes bulging with interest.
"Good afternoon, sir," she answered, her mother a few feet behind her. "I'm looking for a wand."
"Well, you're in the right place." Mr Ollivander stepped around the counter, and stepped up to the young girl; his glassy eyes not blinking even once. "Muggle-born?" He asked, eyeing her appraisingly. Then in an instant, it was gone again.
"Ah, yes," Allyson answered, nodding. "Allyson Gilbert, nice to make your acquaintance."
"Your wand arm?" He asked glancing at her right arm with a small crease between his eyebrows.
Allyson frowned, before holding out her right arm. "You mean if I am right or left handed?" she asked, as a tape measurer flew off the counter and began taking her measurements. Twisting her wrist, but without hurting her, the wand maker examined the pale blue veins pulsing softly on the back of her hand before turning to search through a pile of wands. Meanwhile, the measuring tape was measuring the space between her knee and her armpit, while her mother stared with a slacked jaw.
"Every Ollivander wand has a core of powerful magical substance," he began, the measuring tape by now around Allyson's head. "We customarily use unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers and the heartstrings of dragons." The wandmaker continued, before returning with a long box. "Chestnut wood and dragon heartstring, 13 inches."
Allyson carefully picked the wand up, testing the weight into her hand.
"Well, try it out!"
She gave the wand a blank look, before waving it. It shuddered but did nothing else.
"No, no, not this one, definitely not this one!" Ollivander said, yanking the wand out of her hand and turned to fetch another one. Allyson gave her mother a dark look, who seemed to be heartedly amused.
"Cherry wood and unicorn tail, 11 inches. Very flexible." He whispered softly, offering Allyson another box.
She reached forwards, but before she could even touch the smooth wood, the wand maker snatched the box away. Returning to the counter the man dusted his palms on the front of his robes and started to mutter under his breath and Allyson realised this would take a longer than she'd expected.
The day had begun as sunny and delightful, but as the sun descended behind the buildings, dark grey clouds started to swindle through the dark blue sky. Threatening, they gathered, concealing the summer sun and plunging the shopping area into a foreboding shade of grey. Time had seemed to slow down as Allyson tried wand after wand, but none seemed to work quite right. She took yet another wand out of its deep scarlet box and gave it a wave. The vase on the counter shattered with a loud crack and the murky water dripped down the old worn wood. She was slowly starting to feel a bit desperate. What if that Deputy Headmistress made a mistake? Perhaps she was magical enough to make things happen, but what if she wasn't magical enough to use a wand?
"We'll find one for you, don't worry, dear." Mr Ollivander explained with a kind smile, putting yet another wand back into its box. Allyson marvelled at how nothing seemed to bother the man. She had tried out at least a dozen wands and her eyelids were beginning to droop.
"How come none of the wands works for me?" Allyson asked feeling slightly useless.
"The wand chooses the witch or wizard, Miss Gilbert, not the other way around." Mr Ollivander answered as he clapped the lid on the box and packed the wand away with the rest. He stared up at the boxes and pursed his lips in thought.
Allyson nodded, although he couldn't see, and glanced at the broken vase. Water was still running down the side of the wooden counter and Catherine Gilbert stood up from her seat and made her way over towards her daughter; placing a comforting hand on Allyson's shoulder.
"It's going to be fine, Sweetie,"
"Perhaps—" the wand maker suddenly started, making a show of rummaging through the counter, eyes flitting almost reluctantly in her direction. "But it is very old, not one of the cores I usually use—" he muttered and Allyson gave her mother another long look who shrugged in response.
"There it is." Mr Ollivander softly breathed. He turned an auburn coloured box in his hands. The box looked old but well kept; the wood shiny and polished. Allyson raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"I've had this in my possession for years." Mr Ollivander explained, looking as if he wasn't sure he should be holding the box in the first place. "My father manufactured— I do wonder—"
He slowly opened the lid and Allyson peered inside. The wand was made from dark greenish wood and instead of being completely smooth like she had come to expect, it was rough at the edges and twisted into a cylindrical shape.
Carefully, Allyson slowly took it from the box. The wood warmed beneath her fingers and buzzed gently, magic sizzling against her bare skin. A warm sense of belonging travelled up her arm and she tightened her fingers around it. She gasped.
"Mulberry wood with Unicorn tail, 11 inches. It's very flexible." The wandmaker explained. "Performs well in transfigurations and powerful." His eyes narrowed. "Yes, very powerful—"
Allyson nodded running her fingers over what would be her wand and smiled. It felt right and she carefully placed it back in the box, hugging it to her chest.
"May I ask something?"
"Of course,"
"The Professor that stopped at my house, told me I'd need a wand to contribute to Magical society. It's just, what can I perform with one, that I can't do without?"
The man considered her again. "What have you been able to do?"
A strange question if she ever heard one and she wasn't sure how to answer it: "I've been aware of magic for a long time now. I can summon things and if the mood strikes me compel animals or even people to look at me favourably. I don't really know how to answer it, really. Often, it's stronger when I'm upset or when I feel another strong emotion, but it's there too when I'm not."
"It's not accidental?"
"No," Allyson shook her head. It was the same thing McGonagall had asked and although she had lost control before she certainly didn't need to if she wanted something to happen. "Not really."
"Wandless magic is a rare trait." Ollivander mused. "Wands focus and strengthen a magical being's core. Yet, there are always exceptions. You are very young and your magic has not matured yet. It's often considered volatile and difficult to perform, but I suppose a lot is possible. A strong wand chose you after all."
It was a most cryptic explanation if anything else, but Allyson supposed it was enough for now. The reluctance to use 'Wandless magic' was something she wanted to look into. It seemed somewhat strange to be only dependent on a wand.
"How much?"
"Seven galleons please."
Allyson felt Ollivander's eyes long after she'd paid and stepped out onto the cobbled stones again. Perhaps, it had been an unwise decision to ask the man about the kind of magic even her future teacher was cryptic about, but she had wanted to know. The shopping street was a lot less crowded and the dying sunlight peeked out between the clouds.
"Did you have to?" Catherine asked when they were further down the street far enough away from the wand shop to not be seen anymore.
"I'm sorry?"
"Your question rattled him."
Allyson sniffed. "If an innocent question about Wandless magic rattled him—"
"Dear God, you really are your father's daughter."
"Right, well, I still need my books," Allyson said hugging her wand to her chest as if it was a newborn baby.
Catherine clucked her tongue while glancing through the street. "Yes, and I need your father, as he has the rest of our money."
As if on cue, her father emerged from the inn. His dark blond hair tousled and a small smile tugging at his lips. He was holding a cauldron in one hand and a bag filled with books in the other.
"Dad?" Allyson asked feeling slightly put-out when she glanced at the books.
Noticing his daughter's gaze, he shrugged. "It didn't look as if you would be ready anytime soon, love. It seemed more adequate this way."
Allyson stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're so mean." She mumbled, before glancing at another odd clothes store. Except for the fashion — which she admitted was very odd — she could see lime green robes which lighted up when the lights in the shop window extinguished. Although odd, she thought they were also extremely brilliant!
"Oh, Mikeal—" Catherine sighed, massaging her temple.
"They're about to close, Catherine." he sighed. "I took some books out that weren't on the list as well."
"What kind of books?" Allyson asked immediately, curiosity evident in her voice.
"One called 'Hogwarts a History' and some more advanced spell books, I thought you might like." Her father answered, wrapping an arm around Allyson's shoulders. "Listen kiddo, I know you like bookstores, but it was about to close."
She sighed, giving the man a suspicious glare before nodding. "All right," she sighed, linking her arm through her father's. "Shall we go home?"
Smiling at his daughter he straightened his jacket. "I say we go somewhere to have dinner and call it a day."
Allyson's mother nodded absentmindedly and her father linked his arm through hers as well. Mikeal led them towards the wall and Allyson peered through the small gap in the wall just before it knitted itself back together behind them. Tom the bartender smiled at them, fiddling with a set of rusty keys, before letting them out of the little inn. They walked down the road, passed a busy, bubbling shopping centre and got back into their car. The way back home, Allyson stared at her wand wondering what amazing things she would be able to achieve with it. It would be great though, she was sure…
To be continued...
Retouched at 13 March 2019 (I fear I'll never actually get past book 1)
A/N: I hope you'll be happy with this updated again, Fantasy.92. I hope you'll enjoy the new story as well. I've rewritten many parts of this story as well changed a few things (important for the future). Enjoy:)