Beta'd by the jovial Insane Scriptist
As so many people have asked, I am officially announcing that this will be a full cast KHR crossover, but that bit won't start until after Dorea is fifteen. I have big plans and those kinds of things take time to set up properly.
Of shopping and foreshadowing
Slightly unfairly, Papa did not agree to take Dorea shopping immediately after breakfast. His reasoning was that waiting until mid-morning would give Dorea time to send Daphne a message via Moppet, so the two girls could shop together, and mean Great-Aunt Cassiopeia would have someone to talk to over tea while Papa accompanied Dorea around the Alley. While still impatient to get going Dorea bowed to her father's reasoning and scribbled a quick invitation to Daphne and her family. Great-Aunt Cassiopeia tired rather quickly now, but Dorea knew better than to suggest she stay behind at Black Manor while Dorea did her Hogwarts shopping!
Moppet came back with a reply not even five minutes after Dorea had sent her: Daphne's equally hurried missive stated that the Greengrass Family were delighted to accept the Black Family's invitation, and that they would Floo over in an hour's time. Dorea made good use of that time to go rooting around in the Lumber Room for a suitable trunk to transport all her various possessions to school in. Due to the numbers of past Blacks attending Hogwarts having been much higher, there was a large variety of different trunks of varying ages to choose from. Dorea eventually settled on a large, modestly ornamented dome-top trunk made of teak which was barely scarred at all and had a large number of very interesting security runes painted all around the inside lip of the lid. It also had an interior six times the size of the actual trunk divided into in two separate compartments accessible by different unlocking methods, three different secret cubbyholes on the inside and six more on the outside, the smallest being only just large enough for a wand. According to Lurcher this trunk had belonged to her Great-Great-Great Aunt Isla, who had travelled a lot in the Muggle world before marrying a muggle and getting thrown out of the Family. It was fitted with permanent internal Security Charms to prevent anything placed inside from being moved or damaged during transit no matter how much the trunk was thrown around, Anti-Theft Wards, considerable Warding against magical damage and could always be lifted easily no matter how much was inside it. When she'd run away to get married she'd taken her other, rather larger trunk with her, but this one had just been put into storage and forgotten about.
The trunk wasn't actually empty: the compartment hidden in the top of the lid was actually a built-in mirror and makeup case still containing a number of bottles, jars and packets of soap, perfume, powder and so on. They were all perfectly useable due to the Stasis Ward carved into the sides of the compartment, so Dorea moved them all to the lower shelf of the miniature vanity so her own hairbrush, soap, shampoo and lip balm could go on the upper levels. She'd never worn makeup before herself –she'd not even considered it really– but if she ever did want to there was plenty of space for things to fit into.
Lurcher insisted on carrying the trunk to her bedroom, ready to be packed once she returned from Diagon Alley, and Dorea checked her watch then hurriedly changed into a clean and rather smarter lightweight robe in royal blue with silver piping, slipped her feet into her sandals and took a brush to her hair, taming and softening the wild ringlets before tying them back in a high ponytail. Her hair sorted, Dorea grabbed a shoulder bag, picked up her Gringotts key from her jewellery box and hung it around her neck for safekeeping and dashed off downstairs to greet her friend, who would be coming through the fireplace in the atrium any minute.
She arrived just in time to see the flames flare green and Lord Greengrass step out, holding onto Daphne's hand. Dorea beamed.
"Welcome to Black Manor, Lord Greengrass, heiress Greengrass."
Lord Greengrass smiled fondly at her as he released Daphne's hand. "Good morning Dorea. All ready to set out for Diagon?" Behind him the fire flashed green again and Lady Greengrass and Astoria stepped out onto the front hearth.
Dorea bounced on her toes. "Yes! I'll just go and see if Papa and Great-Auntie are ready too." She ran to the door then had to pull herself up short to avoid running into her father, who grinned down at her mischievously as Great-Aunt Cassiopeia appeared in the hallway behind him, wearing her summer coat, hat and lacy gloves.
"All ready, Dorea dearest?" Papa asked, that naughty look still shining in his eyes. Dorea huffed; she knew that look.
"What have I forgotten, Papa?"
Her father obligingly held out the piece of parchment detailing what she would need to take to Hogwarts. Upon seeing it Dorea abruptly remembered that she'd left it on the breakfast table and groaned, her cheeks darkening the barest fraction. She tried to snatch it off him but he held it up out of her reach. "What do we say, Dorry-dear?"
"Papa!" Dorea protested at the babyish nickname before dropping her hand and sighing dramatically. "Thank-you for picking up my list for me, Papa. May I have it?"
Her father promptly handed it over, still smiling cheekily. "Of course, daughter-mine. Do try not to lose it."
Dorea sniffed, putting her nose in the air as she slid the parchment into her bag. "I'm not the one who left their coat at the theatre and had to send Wispy to fetch it, Papa."
"Shall we depart?" Great-Aunt Cassiopeia said firmly before Papa could do more than gasp dramatically and clutch at his chest. "The longer we wait the busier it will get." With that she set off towards the front door, outside which Mr Stewart was doubtless waiting with the car.
The Stewarts had been retainers of Black Manor since time immemorial, and while no Stewart had ever attended Hogwarts they were nonetheless a magical family with a strong affinity for creatures: they tended to the Estate's griffins, cared for and exercised the Aethonans, made sure the Muggle tenants on the more far-flung farms weren't bothered by jarveys and other, similar tasks. They also drove large number of coaches that Dorea had been taken to various places in as well, which was always fun as hitching up Aethonans to a coach meant flying to your destination, but since the thirties a number of cars had been added to the small fleet of conveyances. All the cars were fully licensed in both Muggle and Magical societies and extensively Charmed. As there would be seven people sitting in the back of the vehicle, Dorea knew the car outside would be either the 1936 Rolls-Royce Phantom II or the much newer Bentley T2, which had been bought and Warded during the Voldemort War and was probably bomb-proof. Shortly after Grandpa had bought it Mr Stewart had reputedly run down a Death Eater firing Blasting Curses directly at the windscreen and the car hadn't even been scratched.
The car waiting was in fact the classically stylish Phantom II, so Dorea clambered in after Astoria, settled herself on one of the four backwards-facing seats and waited impatiently for everyone to settle. It didn't take long.
Once they arrived at the Wizarding entrance to Horizont Alley Great-Aunt Cassiopeia and Lady Greengrass left the main party, taking Astoria with them. Dorea suspected they'd distract the nine-year-old with a trip to Pilliwinkle's Playthings and possibly a sweet shop before settling in at Theodosia's, the best tea shop in the entire Wizarding district. Leaving them to it, Dorea grabbed her father by the hand and tugged him onwards towards Gringotts: this would be the first time she would be allowed to take money out of the vault Mother and Uncle James had left her and she was really looking forward to seeing it!
Emerging from Gringotts half-an-hour later, windswept and slightly giddy from the cart ride, Father steered her firmly towards Twilfitt and Tattings. "Much as I would like you to enjoy the same Hogwarts experience as everyone else, including getting fitted at Madam Malkins," he said quietly as they left the main thoroughfare and into a small square lined with much more tastefully dressed windows, "as heiress Black you have an image to uphold and I'll not have your school friends getting silly ideas into their heads concerning the Family's finances." Because the Blacks were as close to royalty as Wizards could get and were held to a higher standard, so wearing normal school robes would be seen as either penny-pinching or a sign that the family finances were not what they should be. Either of which would have unfortunate political repercussions.
"I understand father," Dorea said meekly, making sure to use the more formal mode of address since they were in public. "See you later Daphne."
Daphne glanced up at her own father imploringly and the man's lips twitched. "Far be it from me to stand between a young lady and her wardrobe," the sandy-haired Lord Greengrass said wryly, "but your uniforms only, Daphne. When you finally stop growing I'll let you buy everyday wear at Twilfitt's, but not before."
"Thank-you father," Daphne said demurely, eyes downcast and smirk triumphant.
Miss Tatting was politely delighted to have two young ladies in her shop purchasing Hogwarts' uniforms and soon had them selecting a finely woven, double-breasted, thick black tweed winter cloak lined with dark silk and a soft, lush black broadcloth material for their everyday robes. The saleswoman successfully persuaded them to buy five sets of uniform robes rather than the required three, pointing out that, after a messy Potions or Herbology class, they might like to change and the minimum uniform requirement did not cover such things. She also scoffed politely at the requirement for a hat, mentioning that nowadays it was rarely worn, but provided a variety of very attractive ones for them to chose from. Dorea picked a rather short hat with a fairly narrow brim and built-in Warming and Cooling charms that could be activated at the tap of a wand; Daphne picked a slightly taller and more dramatic hat. Miss Tatting then presented them with a selection of dragonhide gloves, pointing out how the differences in breed affected the material. She explained that yes, the Hebredian Black gloves were slightly sturdier than the Welsh Green ones, but it would not make a difference in a scholastic context and the skin of the Welsh Green was considerably more flexible, granting greater dexterity and reducing the chances of fumbling something. The Short-Snout gloves were considered the most attractive due to their silvery blue colouring, but as they would be used for rather menial tasks they were a tad over-ostentatious.
Both Daphne and Dorea bought the Welsh Green gloves in the end, though Daphne confided quietly that she suspected Pansy would buy Short-Snout gloves. Pansy, despite coming from an old pureblood family, lacked class. Draco was an embarrassment but he did at least have excellent taste.
After making them stand still for half an hour to have the robes properly fitted, Miss Tatting informed the two girls that their uniforms would be delivered to their homes in two days time and directed their fathers towards Mr Twilfitt to pay. That done Lord Black decided that wands were the next things to buy, because visiting a bookshop with Dorea had never taken less than two hours since she'd learned to read. Pouting slightly, Dorea walked hand-in-hand with Daphne to Ollivander's at the other end of the Alley.
Dorea did not like the wand shop. It was too quiet, magic weighing down the air and sending shivers up and down her spine that contrasted unpleasantly with the slight sense of heat radiating from her forehead.
Dorea's forehead was smooth and unscarred, but when Voldemort had attacked her and her mother's Ward had retaliated the cot the runes had been inscribed in had not been able to withstand the power channelled through it. This had resulted in the Ward attaching itself directly to Dorea rather than collapsing in on itself, the Sowilo rune that was its anchor and focus etching itself onto her skull in the centre of her forehead. It doing so had left a nasty burn on her skin, but proper healing had dealt with that easily enough and now the only way to see the mark indicating she was under an active Blood Ward was to use a very complicated and sensitive Diagnostic Charm.
She could feel the Ward whenever she did something dangerous though: its warmth danced under her skin like liquid sunshine when she duelled and practiced her swordplay, granting her additional strength and speed. The hidden rune also heated whenever Great-Aunt Cassiopeia used Legimency to prod her shields and Great-Aunt Lucretia had speculated that if anyone wishing Dorea ill attempted to invade her mind the Ward would repel them.
Her forehead was prickling now and she could sense the potential in this dingy, dusty room. Do something exactly wrong in here and all of Diagon would be nothing but smoking rubble: unbounded wands could be rather volatile.
"Good afternoon." Dorea did not jump, she slid into a defensive stance and twisted around to see who was there. Daphne jumped, then after regaining her composure glanced at Dorea with a raised eyebrow. Dorea lidded her eyes briefly, causing Daphne's forehead to crease. Dorea suspected that her best friend would be demanding duelling lessons as a birthday present next year, particularly since, according to the newly-graduated Dora, Hogwarts Defence professors changed every year and ranged between 'moderately competent' and 'pretty hopeless'.
"Ah yes, Daphne Greengrass and Dorea Black," said the silver-eyed man who could only be Mr Ollivander. "I have been expecting you both." Then he glanced at the two adults. "Sirius Black. Twelve and a quarter inches, laurel and dragon heartstring, slightly springy; a shame about what happened to your previous wand, truly a shame, but it seems this one suits you just as well."
"It has been a delight, truly," Dorea's father said with a wry grin, "less playful than my last one but I find myself liking its reliability."
"Your first wand; spruce and dragon heartstring, eleven and three-quarter inches," Mr Ollivander smiled. "A right mischief-maker that one was: turned my tape measure into liquorice!"
Her father chuckled at the memory and the wand-maker turned to Daphne's father. "Reginald Greengrass: ten inches exactly, pine and unicorn hair. Rather inflexible; has it served you well?"
"It is a most excellent wand, Mr Ollivander," Lord Greengrass said warmly, "but enough of that: my daughter needs a wand."
"We shall begin with Miss Greengrass then," the wand maker said, prompting Dorea to retreat to the spindly chair in the corner.
It took fifteen minutes, but at the end Daphne was equipped with a ten inch wand of yew with a dragon heartstring core, which Mr Ollivander described as "rather springy; a potent combination. I'm sure you will go far with it. Yes, far indeed," which was slightly ominous. Yew had a bad reputation as a wand wood, being associated with powerful duelling skills and fierce, implacable witches and wizards.
"And now for Miss Black," Mr Ollivander said softly. "I do wonder who you will take after, my dear." The way he said that gave Dorea the distinct impression that the old man knew she technically had three parents and was heir to two very different magical families. Potters were traditionally Gryffindors, but Dorea was pretty sure she was a born Slytherin.
"Let's start with ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on and give it a wave."
Dorea obligingly waved the wand, taking care not to point it towards anybody. The wand ignored her efforts entirely and Mr Ollivander snatched it back.
"Beech and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Nice and flexible," he pushed a new wand into her hand, but this, too was unresponsive.
"Hmm, try this: elm and phoenix feather, thirteen and a quarter inches." Dorea sensed something then, but the wand maker snatched it back with a muttered "no, no, not right at all," and hurried off to find more wands.
It seemed in fact that there might not be a suitable wand for her in the shop, given that nearly half an hour later Dorea was still waving wands. Mr Ollivander seemed positively ecstatic at the challenge though and was smiling delightedly as he handed her wand after wand:
"Tricky customer eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match in here somewhere –I wonder– well why not –unusual combination– holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." A pale wand was thrust into her hands, elegant in its simplicity. As Dorea grasped it she felt the prickling heat in her forehead melt away entirely and deep, gentle warmth fill her body. Gently flicking the wand tip, she smiled as it produced a fountain of iridescent white-orange sparks. Both the other men cheered and Daphne applauded gently, her wide smile and shining eyes in stark contrast to her restrained behaviour.
"Oh, bravo! Yes indeed, very good. Well, well, well… how curious, how very curious…" Mr Ollivander gently took the wand from Dorea and placed it in its box, then wrapped the box in brown paper, still lost in his musing and muttering about the oddity of the situation. Dorea glanced at him warily, but did not comment. It was her father who asked:
"What's so unusual about my daughter's wand?"
Mr Ollivander glanced up at him. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Black. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your daughter's wand gave another feather –just one other. I simply find it strange that your daughter should be destined for this wand when its brother –why, its brother belonged to the most feared wizard in recent history."
The name 'Voldemort' hung in the air like a corpse from a beam.
"Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. I think we must expect great things from you, Miss Black. After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things –terrible yes, but great."
Holly was one of the rarer wand woods, ironically considered the complete opposite of yew by being protective and nurturing. It was also associated with quests, particularly of the spiritual kind. Dorea's favourite of the Family wands had been Grandpa's, eleven and three quarter inches and made of elm with dragon heartstring. It had liked her even before Grandpa died and he had actually willed it to her. Elm was associated with presence, dignity, magical dexterity and sophistication, making it popular among purebloods of a pretentious bent. To Dorea it was something of her grandfather that remained at her side, helping her even now he was gone, so she cherished it for that reason. It was a little difficult sometimes, but Dorea recognised that compared to Grandpa she was just a naïve child with a lot of maturing to do and that it would take time and dedication to truly master his wand.
After Mr Ollivander's rather unnerving pronouncement her father paid the wand maker and hustled her out of the shop. Dorea was only too happy to leave behind those too-knowing silver eyes and bury her worries in books. Flourish and Blotts might have been the official supplier of Hogwarts textbooks, but it wasn't the only shop selling books. Those other shops were best left until later though, being less well-organised and having less room for people to stand about in. Sliding past other, older students and their families Dorea pulled Daphne away from the main shelves and back to where the more obscure and interesting books could be found. The manager had a soft spot for her, as she'd once tripped over a large stack of invisible books while trying to reach a rare tome on South American Blood Magic. Dorea had been rewarded for her unexpected discovery of over a hundred copies of The Invisible Book of Invisibility by a copy on the book itself, the rare book she'd been trying to reach and a lifetime discount on all purchases; apparently invisible books were very expensive and he'd been in trouble for losing them.
Away from the noisy crowds Dorea took a deep, cleansing breath and let her shoulders sag slightly as she met Daphne's eyes. "That was… unexpected," she volunteered.
Daphne nodded, eyes shadowed. "Holly has most un-Slytherin connotations," she said quietly.
"If I have no choice, then I have no choice," Dorea said pragmatically, "but that doesn't mean I'm not going to do things my way. Foolish heroics are a lifestyle choice I'm not inclined towards."
Daphne giggled for a moment them frowned. "Wherever Magic takes you Dorea, I'll be there with you. I swear." Her tone was as low and mannerly as ever, yet deadly serious. Dorea realised she had just received her first Pledge. Pledges were what held pureblood society together: members of lesser families made them to members of greater ones and the resulting alliance lasted a lifetime. The Greengrasses were almost as old and respected a family as the Blacks, but they were less infamous, less powerful and less affluent. Daphne had also pledged alliance rather than service, which was an important distinction. The Crabbe and Goyle families had Pledged to personally serve the Malfoy main family for generations now and it truly was service, though it meant the younger Crabbes and Goyles got to attend Hogwarts rather than one of the numerous minor Trade Schools. Pledges were serious.
"And Tracy will be right behind you too, I bet," Dorea added humorously, wanting to lighten the mood. She and Daphne were best friends, but Daphne and Tracy were a completely different kind of best friends that were more like sisters. Dorea was hoping to make more friends at Hogwarts because she always felt like she was missing something when she, Daphne and Tracy were all together. It was irrational, she knew, but persisted because Daphne and Tracy knew each-other much better than she knew either of them. Hopefully that would change.
Putting the matter out of her mind, Dorea followed her friend's example and began browsing the shelves. There had to be a more interesting Charms book than the set school text here somewhere…