Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Dahlia Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter Four

The feeling of being squeeze in a pipe calmed down after a few seconds. Apparition was not McGonagall's favourite way to travel. Dahlia and Anne Elizabeth stumbled a bit, both looking ready to puke. It looked like they didn't like it either. The teacher made them land in what seemed to be like a side alley of a great street. They could hear the buzzing activity of the different shops and the loud chatting of the passers-by. Everything was frozen in the past. They were wearing clothes of the Middle Age, robes and cloaks, even the men. There were no street lights but lanterns containing eternal non-burning fire. The ground was paved with stones and heels were clacking on it like gunshots. McGonagall took out a letter from her pocket. She handed it to Dahlia.

"This is the list of supplies you need. We'll start by the bank, to fetch your money. Gringotts is run by goblins, extremely proud creatures, so don't stare or point or whisper. They hate small talk and you have to go directly to the point. Treat them with respect, do not ask rude questions and never hint that they are inferior to us."

"Why should we think that they are inferior to us?" For Anne Elizabeth's child mind, everyone was equals, no matter their birth. Only efforts determined the quality of the life. She was clutching Dahlia's hand as they were walking towards a tall building made of white marble, trying to not get lost in the sea of people. Summer was the busiest time in Diagon Alley because all the Hogwarts students were buying new stuff for the upcoming year.

"The average wizard thinks that since they are not humans, goblins are less intelligent than them. This is completely false, of course. But all they know about them is that they are good bankers and they started rebellions in the past. They were ended by a dishonouring treaty at the advantage of the wizards. goblins were stripped of their dignity and reduced to manage the wizards' money. The idea is enforced in the mind of the newest generation because the current teacher of History of Magic, Cuthbert Binns, lecture during the seven years about the goblins Rebellions and the Giants War. He is a ghost, born in a time when these subjects were topical. The problem is that he didn't actualized his views over the years. He could do so much more, by starting with the war against Grindelwald or the First Wizarding War. Now, his class is used for napping or doing homework. I tried to get him sacked for years, so far without progress. It's so pathetic that the International Confederation of Wizards doesn't recognized British N.E.W.T.s in History in the rest of the world."

"N.E.W.T.? What is it? And the First Wizarding War?" Anne Elizabeth was very curious while Dahlia was listening in silence. The speech had strengthened her opinion that the wizards are stuck in the past.

"N.E.W.T. is Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test. It's the highest diploma you can get at Hogwarts and it's sufficient for most of the jobs. However, if you want to do a hardest profession you have to get a Mastery in your subject, like I have a Transfiguration Mastery to teach Transfiguration. Same thing for Severus in Potions. We British are very self-centred. The First Wizarding War is simply the war against Voldemort. We're here," finished McGonagall.

The trio passed by a set of bronze doors guarded by a goblin in scarlet uniform. He bowed before them. On the second pair of doors, silver this time, was engraved with words:

ENTER, STRANGER, BUT TAKE HEED

OF WHAT AWAITS THE SIN OF GREED,

FOR THOSE WHO TAKE, BUT DO NOT EARN,

MUST PAY MOST DEARLY IN THEIR TURN,

SO IF YOU SEEK BENEATH OUR FLOORS

A TREASURE THAT WAS NEVER YOURS,

THIEF, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, BEWARE

OF FINDING MORE THAN TREASURE THERE.

The main hall was in white marble. Tall columns supported the ceiling who had a huge crystal chandelier hanging in the middle. Every ten feet, doors let the clients acceded to corridors who led to the vaults. On either sides of the room were a large elevated desk with fifty goblins working on it. McGonagall went to one of them.

"Hello, we are here to withdraw money from the trusted vault of Dahlia Lily Potter."

"Do you have the key, Ma'am?" asked the goblin, raising his eyes from his work.

"Yes." The woman handed a small golden key to the creature.

"Everything seems to be in order. Griphook!" barked the goblin to one of his colleague. "Take them to vault 687."

"Follow me." He took a door on the left. Behind it, there was no marble, only a narrow tunnel of stones. The descending passage led to railway tracks. Their guard whistled and a wagon came. They all took place in it, Anne Elizabeth sat on Dahlia's knees. The older girl's grip tightened on her as the wagon began its descent. The surrounding became a blur. They were taken in the depths of the earth. McGonagall was turning pale. Apparently, she didn't enjoy the ride, unlike of the five years-old. It ended too soon to her taste.

"Vault 687," announced formally the goblin. He inserted the key in the lock.

The two girls watched in wonder the mountain of gold before them. Like Dumbledore said, they could choose to not work in their life and still have a considerable amount of money. Anne Elizabeth took a coin in her hand. It was heavy and cold, and both sides were engraved with a dragon's head.

"The golds are Galleons, the silvers Sickles and the bronzes Knuts." explained McGonagall. "There's 17 Sickles in a Galleon and 29 Knuts in a Sickle. Here's an extensible pouch. You can fill it with as much money as you want to, but today, you only need about a hundred Galleon. This is just your trusted vault. You will access to the main vault of the Most Ancient House of Potter the day you will turn seventeen. It's located at a deeper level of the bank and is more guarded."

"Why seventeen? Why not eighteen? Surely it would be more logical."

"Sorry Miss Potter, I forgot to tell you. In the Wizarding World, the age of majority is seventeen. When you'll leave Hogwarts at the end of your schooling, you will be major and emancipated. You will be able to claim Anne Elizabeth's guardianship, buy a house, find a job, etc."

Dahlia filled the bag and they climbed in the wagon again. The ride was smoother because they were ascending instead of descending. They bid Griphook a goodbye and left the bank.

"Where are we going now?" asked Anne Elizabeth. "I'm hungry."

"We can stop at Florean Fortescue. He makes the best ice cream in Diagon Alley." McGonagall led them to a shop with tables outside. They ordered their ice cream and waited. "Tell me, girls, what are you doing when you're not at school?"

"We help at the orphanage: cook, clean, wash clothes. On Sunday, they take us to Hyde Park and we can walk around and play. During the week, we mostly draw or study extra subjects. Dahlia is very smart; she can talk for hours when you ask about a subject she likes. When Sister Margaret was still alive, she taught us French and skills that she thought were necessary for a woman, like sewing. I hate that because I always prick my fingers on the needle."

"I wasn't very good either. But I interested Anne Elizabeth to the classical English literature, like Shakespeare and Dickens. Sometime I do a little politic, the communism, the capitalist and everything between. I like to believe that her mother would be proud of her."

"Who was she? Why did you take the name of Potter instead of your mother's or father's?" It puzzled McGonagall since the beginning. It was not like she was abandoned on the doorstep of the orphanage, her mother gave her birth inside the walls and would have been strong enough to name her daughter.

"Their names were Stephen and Caroline Gordon. Stephen died a couple of months before, in a car crash that also took his brother and his parents' life. Caroline's parents were dead for a long time and she was an only child. She let me choose the name Anne Elizabeth."

Flashback April 7, 1986

Dahlia was wetting Caroline's forehead with a cold cloth. Her cries of pain were frightening her but she was dutifully accomplishing her task. Sister Margaret was palpating the belly to try to place the child in the correct position. They were working for hours, since they had taken over the other women in the orphanage. It was a complicated birth because none of them was a midwife or a doctor. Mrs Richards and Mrs Abenham, the cook, were with the other children, trying to persuade them to sleep.

"You are completely dilated," said Sister Margaret, whipping away the blood. "It's time to push."

The shrieks were getting higher. Dahlia's hand was being crushed by Caroline's grip. She added a pillow under the head for more support. She was constantly repeating that everything would be okay, that both she and her baby would be fine, while looking nervously at Sister Margaret, who was still encouraging the mother to push. Flows of blood were staining the white sheets. When she had arrived, her waters were already broken. It was twenty hours ago. The three adults had alternated all the day between running the orphanage, entertaining the children and tending to the mother-to-be. Caroline was weakening swiftly and there was little progress since the beginning. She was trying with all her might to deliver her baby. They had no painkiller and they could not risk a caesarean because they didn't have the required tools.

"You're almost there, I see the head. Come on, push again!"

With one final scream, Caroline gave birth. Her cries were replaced by the baby's. Dahlia took it from Sister Margaret's arms and handed it to the mother.

"It's a girl. How will you name her? She positioned her against her mother breast and held her head while she drank. Caroline smiled at the young girl who help her. She was truly a good person. The nun had cleaned her and went to fetch water and food to help her recover her strength.

"I don't know. You tell me."

"What? But, you're her mother, you should name your child."

"Please. I insist. Choose her name." Dahlia thought a moment. Sister Margaret helped Caroline to drink a little bit. She caressed the baby's blond curls for a moment.

"Anne Elizabeth. Anne Elizabeth Gordon for the great women that marked our history."

"No. Not Gordon. Potter, like you. The only living Gordon is Stephen's sister, a vile woman. She refused to help us and took all of the inheritance, the house, the money, all. She threw us in the street, with nowhere to go. You're a good person, Dahlia, and I want my daughter to bear your surname. Do you agree?"

Dahlia swallowed. "It would be an honour."

She went to say something else but a horrifying scream cut her off. Sister Margaret took the baby and put her in her arms. Then she checked the place where the blood continued to flow.

"The placenta didn't get out. Dahlia, I need you to take Anne Elizabeth out. Don't come back!"

She rushed out of the room with the precious bundle safely tucked against her. She made her way to the kitchen, where she washed the blood with warm water and wrapped the baby in a soft blanket. Taking place in a rocking-chair, the little girl tried to get her to sleep. It seems like hours before Sister Margaret came out of the room.

"It's over," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

"Since that day, I never stopped to love her. I know that sometimes, I don't sound like my age, but every second was worth it."

McGonagall was shaken by the story. Caroline Gordon knew Dahlia for a couple of hours and trusted her enough to entrust her with her child.

"We were lucky." Anne Elizabeth soft voice brought her back to reality. "When I was two or three, the orphanage received a large donation. Our lives changed for the best. The staff increased and our supply as well. The number of children didn't change much so there was more food, clothes and toys for the few of us."

The three of them had finished their ice cream. They went to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions to buy her uniform. A light brown haired girl was already inside with an elder woman. A small witch dressed in purple approached them.

"Hogwarts, dear? Oh, hello Minerva. Not too tiring, your summer?" said the saleswoman while handing a robe to Dahlia. She began to arrange it.

"Not so much. Hello Madam Bones."

"Minerva." said the older woman, nodding at them. "How is life at Hogwarts? I heard that Quirinus Quirrell obtained the post of teacher of Defence Against the Dark."

"I fear that his trip in Albania left him afraid of his own shadow. Is your niece coming this autumn?"

"Yes. Susan, this is Minerva McGonagall. She will be your Transfiguration teacher." The girl waved a little bit at them, trying to not move. "Who are these young ladies? Muggle-borns?

"No Ma'am. My name is Dahlia Lily Potter. And this is Anne Elizabeth Potter." The three women froze and stared at her. The Girl-Who-Lived sighed. "Are people going to react like that every time I say my name?"

Amelia Bones nudged her niece, who was blushing deeply.

"Pleasure to meet you. My name is Susan Bones; we will go to Hogwarts together. I hope we can be friends."

"Sure we can. I am looking forward to start my magical schooling."

"If I may, I thought you were the only surviving Potter?" Madam Bones perked up at the question of her niece. I was a known fact that the Potter line will die with Dahlia. After all, her children would take her husband's name.

"Anne Elizabeth may not be of my blood, but she is my family. I raised her myself. In six years, she will go to Hogwarts as well."

"That very considerate of you Miss Potter, raising a child when you're a child too. Very Hufflepuff."

"Hufflepuff?" Anne Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"At Hogwarts, you are divided in four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin," explained McGonagall. "Each of them favours different qualities. Gryffindors are brave and courageous, Hufflepuffs are loyal and hard-working, Ravenclaws are wise and seek knowledge and Slytherins are cunning and ambitious. The Houses rivalry is strong, mainly between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but it motivates them to do better in class."

"The majority of the population think that Slytherins are evil and back-stabbing cowards simply because Voldemort and several of his Death Eaters were from that House," said Amelia. "Personally, I think there's nothing wrong in sneaking around instead of charging head first. But I am the Head of the Department of Magical Laws Enforcement, I do politics nearly every day."

"All done my dear!" said Madam Malkin happily.

They paid and said goodbye to the Bones. The trio went to another shop to buy quills and parchment (who still write with that? Apparently wizards!). The bookstore Flourish and Blotts was much more interesting. Dahlia buy a couple of extra books for Anne Elizabeth. All of them were theory, of course. History of Magic, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Theory and an introduction book of the Wizarding World for Muggle-borns. The apothecary's stench was horrible, a mix of rotten egg, dried blood and old meat. The two girls let McGonagall buy the necessary ingredients and stayed close to the door. Soon, there was only the wand to buy. The teacher led them to a shop with the sign: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. The interior was dark, silent and dusty. McGonagall sat in the only chair of the shop. Anne Elizabeth was looking at the piles of small boxes that reached the roof. Dahlia cleared her throat.

"Hello?"

"Hello Miss Potter." Ollivander soft voice resounded through the small room. "I wondered when I'd be seeing you. It seems only yesterday that your parents were in here buying their first wands. Your mother had a ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, willow wand. Nice for Charm work. Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it - it's really the wand that choose the wizard, of course."

Dahlia didn't like him. Is he doing this show for everyone or just to me because I'm the Girl-Who-Lived? When he went to push aside her hair to touch her lightning bolt-shaped scar, she caught his hand, pushing it away.

"Don't touch that." Her tone was final. "I'm here to buy a wand. Can you help me?"

Ollivander stepped back, a little disappointed.

"It's my job. What is your wand hand?" He snapped his fingers and a magical measuring tape began to move around her, taking everything in note, from the length of her arms to the distance between her nostrils.

"I'm right-handed."

The wand maker disappeared in the back of the shop and came back with a dozen little boxes. Each wand she tried would either destroy or burn things. He went to the back-store three more time before trying the special wand he had kept for her.

"Let's try a peculiar combination, holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Nice and supple.

Dahlia took the wand with little enthusiasm. It was the hundredth she tried. Anne Elizabeth was bored out of her mind and was more or less sleeping upright. McGonagall was worried. They were here for two hours and none of the wands would accept the eleven years-old. However, when she waved it, she felt a little warmth coming from it.

"It looks like this is the right core but the wood is unappropriated. Follow me" He led them to a small room where cores were aligned on a wall and woods on the other. "Close your eyes and place your hand over them. When you feel something, let me know."

Dahlia did as she was told. Over a spot she felt a change in the air, like something tickling her fingers. She opened her eyes and took a dark wood.

"Cedar, for the strength of character, loyalty, perspicacity and perception. I will do a ten and a half inches long, cedar and phoenix feather, very flexible. Wait outside until I finish. It shouldn't be long."

The three woman were relieved. Soon, they would leave the confined shop and breath fresh air again. McGonagall's lungs were suffering from the dusty air. Anne Elizabeth was struggling as well. They had walked all day and she was tired. Fifteen minutes later, Ollivander emerged from the workshop, the wand in his hands. It was beautifully engraved with leaves patterns and had a handle for a better grip.

"A fine work indeed, and in so little time! I'm proud of this wand, Miss Potter, and you should be proud too."

"Yes, yes, I am. How much?"

"What I find curious about this wand is that…"

"How much?" said Dahlia impatiently.

"Seven Galleons. As I was saying…"

Ollivander didn't have the time to finish his sentence because the girl threw the money on the counter, grabbed Anne Elizabeth by the hand and left the shop. McGonagall stuttered an apology and went after them.

"Miss Potter! It was quite rude. You didn't even say thank you to Mr Ollivander."

"I'm sorry Professor, but this man was getting on my nerves. You would think that, with magic, he could have clean the shop or purify the air. But no, he made us wait more than two hours and still wanted to talk."

"Can we go home now? I'm tired and I'm hungry."

"In a minute, dear. Miss Potter, I can forgive you this time but don't make a habit of insulting people, especially Snape." McGonagall drew a ticket from her robe. "Here's your ticket for the Hogwarts Express. It leaves September 1st at eleven o'clock. To find the Platform 9 ¾, you run in the wall between platform 9 and 10 at King's Cross. Before I forget, it is forbidden to do magic outside school. You can read your book but don't touch your wand. The Ministry of Magic will know if you break this rule. You get one warning. After that, it's expulsion. Now, hold my arm, we're going to apparate back to the orphanage."

McGonagall left them in front of the gates. Both will be great witches one day.

Hello everyone!

I wanted to thank you all for your favourite, follow and reviews.

To Nanettez: it was a simple error, I changed it.

The next time will be the train ride. She will meet Ron and Hermione, they will still be present even if they are not best friends.

To specify things, Dahlia met Susan Bones and not Draco Malfoy because she went to Diagon Alley before her birthday. I changed holly to cedar because it fitted more her personality. Holly is for those who may need help overcoming a tendency to anger and impetuosity and cedar is for the reasons I listed before.

Just to be clear, Anne Elizabeth isn't from an old, very powerful family like the Founders or Merlin and Morgana, like we see sometimes in some fanfiction. She's 100% Muggle-born. Also, I won't be using the theory that Muggle-borns descend from squibs.

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