Raised by Four and the Philosopher's Stone
Summary: Summoning is the most dangerous of rituals. Specifically, summoning humans through time. However, there is a way to do this safely, and Dorea Potter has done so successfully. As she heals from the past and wanders towards her future, she's thrown into the limelight and forced to take up a title that she despises. The Girl-Who-Lived attends Hogwarts, only there's an unknown danger around every corner, a danger that cannot be predicted by anyone...
Warnings: Fem! Grey! Smart! Strong! Harry, Good! Founders, Ministry/Ron/Molly/Percy/Hermione bashing, minor bashing of the teachers, abuse mentioned in some of the chapters, violence, and swearing, a few OCs! You have been warned!
Main Characters: Fem!Harry, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, Dumbledore, the Twins, Daphne Greengrass, Susan Bones, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, OC 1, OC 2, OC 3.
The list above would be all the people that I would put under in the sections, but as this story mainly revolves around Dorea(fem!Harry) and the Founders, I'm only putting them in the search. About the first half of this chapter is from the book itself, but the rest is my own. From there, the story will have the basic plot remaining canon - nothing else will be so. Ron and Hermione will NOT be friends with Dorea, Dorea will have a healthier childhood, and will understand what real friends are supposed to be like. In my opinion, Ron and Hermione aren't actual healthy friends, they're both too pushy and demanding, and they can be really dense and rude to Harry in canon. As such, I've selected other friends for Dorea to have. Understand?
~O~O~O~O~O~
November 2nd, 1981
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.
"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's.
He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard —"
" — yes, their daughter, Dorea —"
Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a daughter called Dorea, or at least something similar. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his niece was called Dorea. He'd never even seen the girl. It might have been Delilah. Or Dora. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her — if he'd had a sister like that… but all the same, those people in cloaks…
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behavingvery unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight,there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise.
Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." Thenewscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with theweather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"
"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that havebeen acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."
Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight?
Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"
As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.
"No," she said sharply. "Why?"
"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"
"So? " snapped Mrs. Dursley.
"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her crowd."
Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could,
"Their daughter — she'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.
"What's her name again? Destiny, isn't it?"
"Dorea. Nasty, freakish name, if you ask me. No doubt from her father's side of the family."
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."
He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.
Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it.
The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect them…
How very wrong he was.
Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots.
His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter.
He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked.
"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."
Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads.
People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."
She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"A what?"
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone —"
"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this
'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying
'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."
"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring.
"But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"Only because you're too — well — noble to use them."
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared?
About what finally stopped him?"
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true.
Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped in horror.
"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily, choking back a sob.
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's daughter, Dorea. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that tiny little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Dorea Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."
Dumbledore nodded glumly.
"It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little girl? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Dorea survive?"
"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know. Not truly, at least."
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"
"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"
"I've come to bring Dorea to her aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now."
"You don't mean – you can't possibly mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Dorea Potter come and live here!"
"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she's older. I've written them a letter —"
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand her! She'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Dorea Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Dorea — every child in our world will know her name!"
"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes —
yes, you're right, of course. But how is the child getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Dorea underneath it, shuddering at the mere thought.
"Hagrid's bringing her."
"You think it — wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding very much relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got 'er, sir."
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got 'er out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over her forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "She'll have that scar forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give her here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore shakily took Dorea into his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
"Could I — could I say good-bye to 'er, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Dorea and gave her what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"
"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it.
"But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Dorea off ter live with Muggles —"
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Dorea gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Dorea's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her.
Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once; and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
Sighing, he looked back at the little girl, thinking of the bracelet that he had placed around her wrist as he left her on that doorstep. A backup plan, if you would, for in case her family did not accept her as they should. It would bring her most powerful ancestors that would be willing to protect her, choosing the first ones that it would find in her family timeline and bringing them to the present to raise and protect her. A Summoning Bracelet, with a few additional protections that would keep it from the sight of Muggles, keep it from getting damaged, and that would alert him should the magic stored within it activate before she entered Hogwarts.
"Good luck, Dorea, my dearest little girl," he murmured, a single tear streaking down his cheek. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Dorea Potter rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by her cousin Dudley…
She couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Dorea Potter — the Girl—Who—Lived!"
~O~O~O~ FROM HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE - CHAPTER 1 ~O~O~O~
~O~O~O~O~O~
July 31, 883
Helga Hufflepuff was holding her head in her hands, nursing a horrible hangover. She, Salazar, and Godric had had a contest last night to see who could drink the most ale before they fell unconscious, and she had been proud to say that she had won, up until she awoke this morning. The only reason that Rowena had given the three of them pain relieving potions was because if she hadn't, they wouldn't have made any progress with planning the next school year.
The four friends had worked together for half a decade building a brilliant castle from its ruined form to be used as a magical school for all the magical children that they could find. What they hoped to achieve was a way to prevent the Witch Hunters from stealing these children from their beds as either a way to find more Magical Borns that were willing to take their place, or to execute them in the name of their church. This was the reason that Salazar detested Mundanes, especially Witch Hunters, so. His Mundane Born wife, Sunnifa , had been 6 months pregnant when her brother, a Witch Hunter, had discovered that she was Magical and had her burned at the stake. The man had knowingly murdered an innocent woman and her unborn child, he knew that his sister was the most gentle being on the earth and was physically incapable of harming another living being, and yet he had turned against her and murdered her for a gift that she had been born with. Salazar had sworn the day that he and his three children buried their unborn girl and
Helga allowed her head to drop and slam against the desk before her, letting out a groan of pain while she did so. Why did the Mundanes have to hate them so? Why were they driving them into hiding, murdering all Magical beings that they could find? What caused this fear of them, why must everyone be hated so much?
Helga exited her private chambers, heading towards the kitchens for a light meal. Just like the chambers of her friends', her chambers were sealed off from the school to all but a select few. Godric had somehow managed to convince the students to refer to Salazar's private chambers as the Chamber of Secrets, due to the privacy wards that Salazar had set up around his chambers. Salazar had gotten revenge by setting up a scrying mirror into Godric's chambers, broadcasting to the entire school as to Godric's sleeping habits - which were to say, he slept like the dead and cuddled up to his familiar, a Fire Griffin by the name of Esmond.
As Helga entered the kitchens and was greeted by the Elvish Staff, she sat and pondered as to how the school and castle itself came to be. The castle had been standing for only a decade now, and each of the four of them had half a dozen students under each of their names, the names that they had taken when they built the castle.
Godric had been born Godric Korhonen, on a small island just off the coast of a small town by the name of Varsinais in one of the northern countries, Helga wasn't sure which. His village was constantly attacked by griffins in search of food and supplies for their mates and cublings. Godric, at the time, had been a weak child and didn't enjoy the idea of attacking these griffins, and as such did all that he could possibly do to aid the creatures. When his village discovered what he was doing, they banished him, disowning him and branding him with the name Griffin-Tuki, a name that would dub him as a traitor to his own people. Three months of living on his own in the wilderness, Godric had come across an elderly and extremely powerful sorceress by the name of Gwenfrewi Hogwarts. Lady Hogwarts had initially refused to teach Godric the ways of magic, in which he had been banned from learning on the island for his aiding the griffins, until he explained to her as to why he was living in the wilderness and not within his home village. Lady Hogwarts, according to Godric, had grown enraged when she discovered how cruelly his kindness had been taken, and had taken Godric to her home before she cursed the islanders to become magyr, cursed to watch as the child that they had banished for their petty reasons would grow to greatness. Godric had only been 10 when Lady Hogwarts took him in.
Rowena had been born Rowena Da Silva of the Fortunate Islands. Her father had been killed by mundanes before she had been born, and as such, her mother locked her away in a castle tower so as to protect her for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, her mother was also killed by mundanes when she had finished the enchantments on Rowena's tower, when the most intelligent woman that Helga had ever met was only 7 years of age. During Godric and Lady Hogwarts' travels, they came across Rowena's tower, which had been enchanted to repel and distract mundanes. It had taken Lady Hogwarts mere moments to undo the locking charms on the tower itself, allowing her and Godric entrance to the tower. Rowena had confronted the two with her father's bow and arrow, her magic acting up to protect her from whom she believed to be threats. Like she had with Godric, Lady Hogwarts took Rowena in when she discovered that the child had no one but an Elvish servant to rely on. Rowena had been 9, Godric had been 11. At age 13 she had discovered her own familiar, an albino raven by the name of Edite.
Helga felt that of the other founders, she was closest to Godric in their past. Helga had been born Helga Ivashchenko, the princess of a small kingdom in northern Ruthenia. She had had three younger siblings, two brothers and a sister, all of whom she hadn't heard of in years. Her parents had arranged a marriage with the prince of a neighbouring kingdom for her, to which she had venomously disagreed with. The man they wanted her to marry was fifteen years her elder, he was a drunkard and known for abusing his servants, and someone that Helga openly hated with a passion. When her mother attempted to lock her within her chambers to prevent her from running away from the wedding, Helga had lost control of her magick and attacked her mother, knocking her unconscious. Her family declared that she was a devil worshipper and had arranged for her to be executed, only for her favourite mundane servant, Yuriy, to smuggle her from the prison cell that she had been sent to and out of the country, at the cost of his own life. She had escaped her kingdom and fled to Moravia, where she had come across Lady Hogwarts, Godric, and Rowena while fighting against mundanes that had been attempting to burn her at the stake. Helga had only been 13 when Lady Hogwarts had taken her on as another apprentice, providing her shelter and safety that she hadn't seen in years. Shortly after, she discovered her own familiar, a Wolpertinger whom she had named Yuriy, after the loyal man who had given up his life for her own.
Salazar's story, without any argument, was the most saddening of the four. His mother had been a halfblood, born of a mundane woman and a magical man, whereas his father had been completely magical. Salazar had a single sibling, Swithin, with whom he was under pressure as to who would inherit their father's wealth. Their mother had been captured and murdered by mundanes when both Salazar and Swithin were very young, with Salazar only have a handful of memories of the beautiful woman. Because of the abuse that Salazar and his brother faced from their father's side of the family for "being of dirty blood", Salazar and Swithin had grown up with only each other for company. Eventually, their father perished to an unknown illness, naming his favoured son, Swithin, his heir and leaving Salazar only a few heirlooms that had belonged to his mother. As such, Swithin turned on his brother and made plans to kill him in the dead of night in order to prevent his elder brother from receiving anything. Salazar, using the knowledge that his tutors had given him, managed to steal the vast majority of his brother's inheritance without Swithin even knowing and ran away, determined to make his own way in the cruel world. It was shortly after that his familiar, Bestandan, a basilisk, was hatched and hidden away in a cave. Not even a year had passed after Bestandan, or as they knew her, Bessy, had hatched when he had met Lady Hogwarts, Godric, Rowena, and Helga. He had joined the other three in becoming Lady Hogwarts' apprentice, causing the sorceress to make an oath that Salazar would become her last student. The five of them then travelled throughout Norðreyjar, until they came across the remains of an old castle on the mainland. The only remaining bits of the castle were the dungeons and the foundations, and Lady Hogwarts had been quick to determine that only the first few floors of this particular castle had been made of stone, the rest being made of wood for one reason or another.
As her four students had decided that they wanted to create a school that would become a safe haven for Magical Children throughout the Isles, Lady Hogwarts had determined that this castle would become the foundation for their school. It had taken them half a decade to finish building the castle using only magic, but once it was finished it was a sight to behold. Helga and Salazar had worked together, using Earth and Water elemental magic respectively to carve the landscape to provide extra protection for their school. To the west they build a massive forest, welcoming a centaur tribe to live within the lands as long as they agreed to aid in protecting the castle whenever it was attacked.
Rowena had created a library, filled with tomes that she had brought from her tower and enough supplies to last them several decades of teaching students to read and write in Latin, the language of the Church. While they could use any unfamiliar language, they all agreed to use Latin as it would cause Mundanes to think twice before they attacked any Magical - after all, how could they say that the Magical was truly evil when they could completely understand the same language as their precious priests?
Godric had arranged for several massive towers to be built, peering high above the forests with turrets that would be useful for defending their castle when it was attacked. He and Salazar worked together to built countless secret passageways throughout the castle, passageways that Rowena was positive would be lost to the sands of time with the amount of battles that their school was likely to see.
Salazar had taken control of the dungeons, creating a maze-like structure that only the five of them knew the secrets to in order to enter the Ward Room. He had also arranged for the Ritual Room to be built not too far from the Ward Room - in fact, all one had to do was remove the fake wall and they would be able to enter the Ward Room.
Helga herself had aided Lady Hogwarts in designing the layout of the castle itself - 7 floors, three floors of dungeons, 13 corridors per floor, outer walls of the castle, 3 main towers and 7 minor towers, 49 rooms per floor and 9 windows per corridor. When including the fact that the castle was built over two of the largest Ley lines in the world, the arithmetical formulae for the power and protection that the castle would provide its occupants was simply astounding. The Founders knew that the only reason that they had been able to build the castle the way it was in such a short amount of time, even with the usage of magic, was because of the temporary Time Displacement Ward that she had placed. What had been approximately 4 or 5 years for the five of them and their intendeds had turned out to be closer to 400 years in the outer world. As such, anyone that the four of them and their intendeds might have known were deceased. As such, they discovered that they had very little to adjust to. The Mundanes were just as hateful as ever, though the languages had changed a bit over time (though using Memory Teachings solved that problem very easily), the Church had diverged into two sects, Rome no longer ruled over Albion, etcetera, etcetera.
It was all very pleasing to discover - until they found out about the witch hunts.
It was shortly after Lady Hogwarts lowered the Time Displacement Ward that they discovered it. Apparently the amount of magic that they had been using had attracted the attention of quite a few magicals, who had set up a community not far from the castle grounds. They had explained about the Witch Hunts, how the people of Europe managed to convince the Church (which, while not harmless had taken a docile standpoint towards Wiccanry and Magick when they had been children) to hunt and murder anyone that they believed to be a "Witch", of which the most accurate translation in Magick was an Incantatar, someone whose magic was stolen or taken either from the Natural World or from another Magical being.
With the discovery of the Witch Hunts, the four friends and their Mistress all agreed that they would set up protective wards against all Mundane items, from both the past and what may come in the future, to keep their castle and future school from being harmed by the Mundanes. Helga, Salazar, and Lady Hogwarts worked together to come up with the arithmetical and runic formulae that would be able to power such a selection of wards. Unfortunately, the only conceivable and morale way to create such a powerful base for the wards would be through the willing self sacrifice of a powerful Magical - specifically, a human Magical. The four students all agreed to forget about the idea, and to find a different way to power the base wards. Lady Hogwarts, however, had a different idea.
Three days after she disappeared, they found her bloodless body in the Warding Room.
She had killed herself in order to protect her students, and all of the future students that would grace the halls of the castle that she helped build. In honour of her sacrifice, they named the school after her and used her favourite saying as their motto: Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon, meaning to never intentionally rouse that which you cannot handle. An excellent piece of advice when handling magick, a piece that the four friends took deep into heart.
After several months of mourning, the Founders and their families dared to leave the castle that they had grown to love and call home, venturing out into the world mere hours away.
Unfortunately, it turned out that Sunnifa's brother had discovered that his sister was a witch, and had become an Incantatar and Christian Priest in order to find her again and avenge what he believed to be the murder of his wife, whom had died in childbirth.
It was later that day that Helga, Rowena, and Godric were forced to hold Salazar back as they watched their heavily pregnant friend be burned at the stake.
Helga slammed a fist against the wall nearest to her, causing the few students wandering about the castle to run away in fear of angering the distraught sorceress. It had been years, about half a decade, since Sunnifa's death, and it still hurt Helga to think about it, to remember watching her close friend scream in utter pain and terror as her brother laughed, watching as his "evil" sister burned before his very eyes. To see the utmost devastation as Salazar's heart shattered, only to be even slightly healed by his daughter, Celeste, and his son, Cyneheard.
Biting back a sob, Helga was about to wander into the kitchens when she heard it. It was a cry, from what sounded to be a young child, and it resonated through the air and into Helga's bones with a terrible sense of suffering and desperation.
"Help me..."
Helga spun on her heel, searching for the source of the sound. Looking up, she could see the faint flicker of a golden magick floating down the corridor. Taking off after it, it wasn't long until she heard the voice again.
"Someone... Anyone... Please help me..."
Helga turned a corner when she crashed face first into Salazar. The two stumbled, regained their footing, and looked at each other.
"Did you hear that child?" Helga demanded. Salazar nodded, his chartreuse eyes meeting Helga's russet brown.
"I take it that you know not of its origins, then?" he inquired, running a hand through his raven black locks. "If that is so, then it is a wonder as to how it has passed through Lady Hogwarts' wards..." he pondered. Helga nodded, and the two began running down the corridor once more, only this time Salazar kept a hand on one of his silver and malachite daggers. As the two reached the seventh floor, they met Rowena and Godric, who were pacing outside of the Room of Intent, the room that Rowena and Lady Hogwarts had designed to create a pocket dimension depending on the wishes of the person before it. The wisher was required to walk before the door 3 times, wishing for the same thing each time, in order for the room to open. Rowena turned to the newcomers as the door formed out of the wall.
"Have the two of you any ideas as to whom is crying out for aid?" she questioned. As Helga and Salazar shook their heads, she sighed. "Godric and I know not either, and the thought of a child in so much pain..." The brunette turned to her brassy haired companion, Godric, who was gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.
"I swear to Lavernia" the Goddess of the Sun. "That if one of those Hunters has gotten their hands on a Magical Childling..." Godric trailed off, the rage on his face telling his companions exactly as to what he would do to them the moment that he found those men. It was the same thing that any of them would do; they would utterly destroy them, leaving nothing behind to be found, except perhaps some ashes on the wind. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Godric threw open the door of the Room of Intent, walking inside with his friends at his side.
What they saw was the last thing that they were expecting.
Inside the room was a grand hall, the walls decorated with what appeared to be upside down trees. Upon closer inspection, one could see that rather than just random decorations, they were family trees - specifically, their family trees. Each of the four wandered over to their family tree, looking at the strangely golden branch that was shining like the sun.
Salazar's tree was the closest to the door, as well as the longest. Of the two branches that represented his children, it was Celeste's name that was golden, meaning that whomever was calling must be from her side of the family. He didn't panic over the thought of calling through time for aid, had he and his fellow founders not used a time ward to build the very castle they were standing in? Instead, he focused on the family tree instead. Seeing who his daughter would be marrying, Salazar groaned. It was Tentigo Potter, the single most arrogant and stuck up child that Salazar would ever come across. He had been forced to create a potion to correct his vision after Rowena had cursed him for one flirting attempt too many. If that boy didn't smarten up before he wed his daughter, he was going to take him on a very interesting little trip around Europe...
To his right, Salazar heard Godric laughing and calling his name. Salazar raised an eyebrow at his friend and then turned back to his family tree - only to groan even louder than before. He loved Godric, he really did, but the man was very much like how he had described his family to be, only he wasn't prejudiced against anything without good reason. As such, Salazar was very much annoyed to discover that his future grandson would be marrying Godric's future granddaughter. Great, so that meant all his descendants on his daughter's side of the family would now be hyper, reckless, and stupid. At least they had his blood to counteract Godric's.
Tracing it down, Salazar was surprised to find that the Potters kept their surname, men marrying into the family taking on the name itself. The only reason he found propose for his was that the Potters became some sort of high nobility, most likely within Uther's Council in itself. As the laws currently were, all of which were decreed by King Uther, families appointed nobility by the Royal Family, no matter what age this could happen in, would be capable of keeping their Family Names. If one noble family were older than another noble family, then the older noble family name would be considered more important, and as such become the name that would be kept.
As Salazar and Godric were tracing their now conjoined family line, Helga and Rowena were doing the exact same on the opposite walls. Rowena's Blood Adopted son, a boy that she had named Edmundo when she had made him her flesh and blood, had married and had three children, whom married into the Bones', the Lovegood's, and the Evansclears'. Seeing as how the Evansclear line was the only golden line, this is what Rowena began to follow. To her surprise, 6 generations down the Evansclear line and her finger met Helga's, as this was the point in time that their blood mixed into one line. Following the line, both Helga and Rowena were shocked to see that the names became silver rather than gold, meaning that these descendants of theirs were squibs. They had even changed their name from Evansclear to just simply Evans, most likely having been cast into the Mundane World out of shame. Not disowned from the family, the Evansclears were a family that the four friends personally taught, and as such they all knew that the family considered loved ones to be the most precious thing on the planet.
As the two women followed the Evansclear, now known as Evans, line, the two men on the opposite side of the room were following the Potter Line. The two lines were slowly getting closer and closer, and eventually all four fingers landed on a single, glowing and pulsing name.
Dorea Lillian-Violetta Potter-Black.
Salazar's jaw dropped at the name, knowing that this girl must be extremely powerful to call all four of them to her. The official Heiress of the Potter's and the Black's... But why was she calling the four of them to her? It was Rowena that provided the answer between gasping sobs.
"The poor girl..." Rowena sobbed, covering her mouth with her sapphire blue sleeve. "She must be using a Summoning Bracelet..." The other three tensed at the words that came out of their friend's mouth.
A Summoning Bracelet was an extremely rare and monitored piece of magic, as depending on the strength and need of the caller defined as to who would be the one(s) to answer the call. The Summoning Bracelet was only capable of being used by magical children with old family ties that were being abused, and horribly abused at that. Godric and Helga both growled viciously, Godric reaching for his sword and Helga for her battle axe. Salazar looked at Rowena, running his fingers through his ink black hair.
"Ro," he started. "How do we get to the child before she's killed?" he asked. Rowena tensed and looked at the name for a moment before she nodded.
"We need to accept the call, and her magic will bring us through time." she said, wiping the tears that were streaking down her cheeks. "As we move through the sands of time, all knowledge of what has happened will enter our minds. I don't know what will happen after that, though..." Fixing her robes, Rowena looked at Helga, Salazar, and Godric. "Do the three of you accept the call?" she asked. The three looked back.
"Do you?" they asked in unison. Rowena nodded.
"Of course."
"Then so do we."
With those words, the golden magic swirled from Dorea Lillian-Violetta Potter-Black's name, pulling the four into the tapestry, through the sands of time, and to the child in need.
~O~O~O~O~O~
4 Privet Drive, 1983
The four landed on a paved road in the middle of a suburban area, the houses surrounding them all exactly the same build, the only differences being the colours of the bricks, the styles of the windows, and the gardens in front of them. Helga and Godric peered at the houses in distaste; the two of them had always hated assimilation. Rowena closed her eyes, focusing on the slight tug that was the child's golden coloured magic. Coming to a grasp on the magic, Rowena's eyes snapped open towards the brown brick house with roses and lilies in the garden, a single snowbell tree in the front yard. The address was 4 Privet Drive, a Mundane home and the location of Dorea's Mundane guardians, and torturers.
Salazar followed Rowena's eyes, and glared at the house in question. Casting a quick Glamour on himself and his friends so that they would appear to be modern Mundanes, he made his way across the road to the house on the corner, his eyes burning into the house before him. Godric was to his left, Helga to his right, and Rowena behind them, muttering Healing spells that they may possibly need for the child. May the Great Lady have mercy on the Mundanes, for if Rowena were forced to use those spells, Salazar and Godric would flay them within an inch of their pathetic lives.
With a wave of Godric's hand, the front door slammed open, revealing a horse-like woman in a knee-length pastel green dress in the front hall, a string of pearls around her long neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. See the strangers entering her home, the woman screamed and ran to her right, only for a whale-like man to appear in front of the four instead.
"Who do you think you are?!" he bellowed, spittle flying from his bushy mustache. "I demand you leave at once - you are breaking and entering!" Godric sneered, the Mundanes from their time were much more frightening than this fat man before him.
"We're here to right the wrongs that you have done to the Magical Child in your care." he snarled. The man's face went from bright red, to purple, to a wondrous shade of grey, then back to bright red all within 10 second.
"Y-You're all like her - you're all freaks!" he spluttered. Godric withdrew and raised his sword, pointing the blade to the man's fat, non-existent neck. His eyes were cold and cruel, and the man began to sweat heavily as he realised that he just said the wrong thing.
"What. Did. You. Just. Say?" Godric hissed, pressing the tip of the blade further into the man's flesh, breaking the skin and allowing a small trickle of blood to flow down to his white dress shirt. The man gulped, and the stench of soiled clothing filled the air as he wet himself. "You. Did. Not. Just. Call. An. Innocent. Child. A. Freak."
While Godric was putting the fear of the gods in the man before him, Rowena crept towards the locked cupboard under the stairwell, having heard a soft, feminine whimper sound from the small space. Slowly unlocking and opening the door, despite the protests from the woman hiding in the sitting room, Rowena stared in utter horror at the sight before her.
There, in the cupboard that was barely bigger than an infant's crib, was a small girl, curled up and bleeding from her back. She had thick, curly black hair that was slicked against her skin with dried blood, her emerald coloured eyes were barely open and glazed over as she was losing consciousness, her skin was chalk white from blood loss and lack of sunlight, and she was wearing bloodstained clothes that were not only meant for the opposite gender, but were several sizes too large. The girl looked up at Rowena, her eyes weak as she attempted to remain conscious.
"Help..." she whispered, her voice hoarse and soft, like she had just been screaming for hours. Tears of horror and rage streaked down Rowena's face as she reached for the child, only to be stopped by a high pitched, childish voice.
"DON'T TOUCH REA!"
Rowena was flung back several feet by a young girl's brass and violet coloured accidental magic. The woman stared in shock as a slightly larger girl appeared, holding the child that she could now confirm was Dorea Potter-Black in her arms. Her hair was golden and curled lovingly around her chubby cheeks, her skin naturally pale and her ears slightly pointed. But what caused Rowena to gasp was not any of these traits, but the child's eyes. They were an olive green in general, starting with a brighter green at the edge of the iris and becoming brown around her pupil. The shape of those eyes, the colour, and the way that they glared at her...
Those eyes belonged to Lady Hogwarts.
This girl could only be her Mistress' reincarnation.
~O~O~O~O~O~
Name Meanings:
Sunnifa (f): Sun Gift
Celeste (f): Heavenly
Eudora (f): Excellent Gift
Bestandan (f): Stands Beside
Esmond (m) Grace Protection
Gwenfrewi (f): Fair Peace
Edite (m): Blessed War
Swithin (m): Strong
Cyneheard (m): Royal bravery
Yuriy (m): George
Locations:
Fortunate Islands: now called the Canary Islands
Ruthenia: a region in Ukraine
Varsinais: Half the name of a town in Finland
Moravia: located just east of the Czech Republic
Norðreyjar: northern isles of Scotland
Stone/Metal Beliefs:
Malachite: Solar plexus purger, releases suppressed emotions, facilitates insight
Silver: *for the sake of this story* divine lunar powers, used only by worshippers of Selenite, the Magical Goddess of the Moon
I'm just going to state the ages at which the major events happened for each of the Founders:
Godric: 10 when banished, 11 when he met Lady Hogwarts, 16 when married and helped begin the creation of the castle, 20 when the castle is finished and father of his first child, 21 when Lady Hogwarts commits suicide to create the wards around the school, 27 when Summoned
Rowena: Orphaned at 7 years old, meets Lady Hogwarts at 9, begins helping build the school at 14, marries at 15, 16 when she has her first daughter, 18 when school is finished, 19 when Lady Hogwarts commits suicide to create wards around the school, 23 when Summoned
Helga: Arranged to marry/attacks mother/runs away at 11 years old, meets Lady Hogwarts at 13, begins building school at 15, school is finished at 19, 20 when Lady Hogwarts commits suicide to create wards around the school, married at 21, 25 when Summoned
Salazar: Runs away at 13, meets Lady Hogwarts at 14, begins building the castle at 15, marries and has first child at 16, has second child at 17, finishes building castle at 19, is 20 when Lady Hogwarts commits suicide to create school wards/wife is burned at the stake, 26 when summoned
NOTE ABOUT MAGICAL RELIGION: While I will be basing much of the Magical Religion off of Paganism and Wicca, the vast majority of the gods and goddesses that are worshipped will be my creations. Iif they do coincide with actual gods or goddesses, then that is completely by coincidence. For example, I'm making the Lady of the Lake the Mundane term for Lady of Avalon, or Lady of Magic, the Magical goddess of Magick. In another sense, the Phoenix, or Lord of Balance, is the Creator and Destroyer in Magical religion. These are two examples of deities that I've created, and as always there will be a Moon goddess and a Sun goddess, with a god for the Earth and a god for the Sky. Magick is all about balance - for every god there will be a goddess. Make sense?
And this was chapter one, chapter two will be the Founders adopting Dorea and the reincarnation of Lady Hogwarts, going to Gringotts, Dumbledore appears, and the six move into an Evansclear property.
Note: I have made up the House of Evansclear as a way to make Lily Potter related to Helga and Rowena, since this is what the plot needs. According to canon, Helena Ravenclaw was the only child of Rowena, and since she was murdered before she had children in canon, I made up Edmundo so as to find a way for Rowena's line to continue. Celeste Slytherin was my creation, and as such belongs to me. Dorea and Celeste will look very much alike, and as such Salazar will commonly take the role of Dorea's father, especially in the Mundane World. The story won't automatically go to Hogwarts, there will be scenes of Dorea and my OC's childhood with the Founders. Hogwarts comes around chapter 3, when we have a time skip over to when Dorea and my OC are 11.
Until next time!
Word Count: 11,009