Alright, a new chapter, just a little bit later than planned. But life is sometimes looking for trouble so I had to postpone the release of this chapter for a few days. Long story short, a black cat crossed my path and I had to take a detour on my way home. We now call that little menace Balerion, no kidding... It's a very ferocious little tomcat.
About the recurring issue of the possible pairing, all I can say at this moment is that Dorea will not end up with any Targaryen. Tywin is out of the question as well. Maybe I will go for a less known canon character or maybe there won't be a major romance and just some short romantic entanglements along the way. There are some interesting people during this time period, who have all died before the Ned Stark becomes Hand of the King, like Brandon Stark, Elbert Arryn, Gerion Lannister, the pre-Kingsguard Arthur Dayne or many of the other men from lesser Houses who have lived during this time.
Either way, the pairing is not the main plot of this story, that goes to Dorea's journey. She will see some of the most important places in Westeros and she will have a profound influence on many people. As a healer, she involves herself differently than an Auror would have. Not as a fighter, but as someone who can save or improve the lives of others. We have enough stories of a magical warrior winning wars on her own.
And one more thing, please keep your hate fantasies out of the anonymous reviews. I understand that there are some people who despise Hermione or other characters, but I won't senselessly bash characters. It is kind of senseless and I don't want this to be one of those betrayed-Harry proves them all wrong kind of stories.
Hermione did what she thinks is right, so I wrote her this way. She didn't get Dorea into trouble just for the sake of it. She just didn't consider the possible consequences of her actions. In the books, we have some scenes that show Hermione this way. Take her ill-fate SPEW phase for example. For all her knowledge and experience, she does get carried away when she is passionate about something. Helping a friend, as in this case, is one of those moments. I know some see it differently, but I try to portray the characters a bit closer to their book counterparts. Well, not the I-hate-my-son-Harry from that awful Cursed Child...
Okay, let's get going...
A week had passed since the unwanted visit of the Ministry stooges, without any sign of their agents' return. At first, Dorea had been antsy about the deadline that was given to her. All she other wanted was to live her life in peace. That group of arrogant assholes would never give up, though, and her own pride would never allow her to give in to their demands. In the end, she did nothing and waited for whatever consequences her defiance would bring.
The first deadline came and went. Then three more days followed. Before she knew it, a whole week had passed without incident. Empty threats, nothing more. Dorea wanted to laugh at her previous worries, but after a busy week of work and little time to relax, she was sure that nothing would happen to her this time.
Well, except for the prospect of dying from too much work and too little sleep, not that this was anything new for her. Dorea had found her rhythm, her balance for work and life, and for once she was satisfied. The constant sleep deprivation was just a downside she had to accept.
Becoming a healer had been a spur of the moment decision to her but after six years of doing it, she had truly found her calling. Helping others had healed her as well. Ron was happy being an Auror, Luna was happily working for her father's weird newspaper and Hermione… Hermione just excelled at being herself. A perfect Ministry hive queen with countless work bees dancing to her tune, while she tries to forcefully change a society that had not changed in centuries.
Years ago, when she had been a student in school, becoming an Auror had been a career Dorea had fancied. But after fighting a war and barely surviving it with all limbs intact, she had done her part in fighting the darkness. Her new path suited her in ways she hadn't believed possible.
She would never forget the look on Poppy Pomfrey's face when she had asked about how one becomes a healer. Her, Dorea Potter, a regular inhabitant of Hogwart's hospital wing, walking talking disaster magnet, becoming a healer herself. It was kind of poetic in a sense. And the school healer had been more than happy to show her the way and introduce her to the right people.
Life was good, for the first time since… oh well, ever. And Dorea dreaded this feeling of contentedness. Every time she was happy, her Potter luck would cause her trouble. And even this time, it would be no different, she was sure of it.
Perenelle's words would not leave her alone. They haunted her day and night, both awake and in her dreams. The looming threat of the Unspeakables was still there, even though they had not shown themselves ever since those threats had been made. Yet deep down, Dorea was sure that any happiness she had wouldn't last. Not here, not in Britain.
A plan was needed. An escape plan. Just in case... well, knowing her luck, she would need it soon. And though it was almost too painful to admit it aloud, she would likely never return once she has made that first step. At least not in the lifetime of her friends here...
One of the most recurring nightmares she has these days is one of herself, a century in the future. A young looking Dorea Potter, who stands before the graves of her friends and loved ones, who have all grown old and died. Perenelle had been right about one thing for sure. Immortality is a curse...
Maybe researching the curse first would be the better idea. And she actually had a good idea of where to start looking for answers...
"That is absolutely out of the question!"
"Do we really need to argue about this every single time I'm here?" Dorea asked as she glared at the man before her.
"Absolutely out of the question!" the man repeated. "The managers have..."
"I don't care about your bloody managers. We went over this during my last visit and the one before that as well. Since you have so obviously decided to be an obstinate waste of space, you will go and get me my account manager. Otherwise, I will see to it that there will be one less wizard working at this bank. The goblins would surely love to be rid of you!"
As if there had ever been any doubt. Even after the war with Voldemort, the number of wizards and witches working at Gringotts had remained at an all-time high, due to many goblins leaving Britain for greener pastures. Those goblins who had remained in Britain and the bank were none too pleased about this. To them, it was their bank and every human working at Gringotts was one too many. Without human customers, there would be no business for the goblins, which is pretty much the only reason why wizards and witches are even allowed into the bank.
Oh how much she hated the necessary visits to the only bank in the magical part of Britain. The service was horrible, the employees were unfriendly and the wait times... don't get her started on those. If she wasn't immortal, she would have already grown old and gray before ever getting into the vaults she had inherited from her family. Not that there was much left inside of those. She had made it a habit to take large sums of Galleons with her, every time she manages to get into one of her vaults. Just in case the goblins decide to be assholes again.
"This is..."
"What is the meaning of this commotion?" the unmistakable snarky voice of a goblin asked.
Dorea actually grinned, when she saw the pint-sized, long-eared bugger and his annoyed frown.
"Head Goblin Ragnok, how good to see you again," she greeted the goblin cordially, "I believe I must file a complaint about your service with the Department for Coin and Commerce at Ministry. This man here denies me access to my vaults."
The goblin grumbled something she didn't quite understand before he merely made a dismissive motion with his clawed hand. The wizard, now pale and visibly uncomfortable, retreated hastily. She was sure the man would be punished, not that she minded it in the slightest.
"You will be the death of me, Ms. Potter," Ragnok growled, "You should be well aware that the current manager of the bank sees you in a less than favorable light and has given strict order to keep you away from the lower vaults."
She chuckled darkly, as she heard this. Another idiot trying to make her life difficult, why was she not surprised. Oh well, in this case, she could actually understand the reason. The last time she had visited the lower vaults she had caused havoc with a dragon and destroyed Gringotts property. They had officially forgiven her, for a paltry sum of gold as reparations for the damages she had caused. And because she had freed them from Voldemort's bigoted followers. Despite everything, though, the marble floor on the main floor of the bank was still cracked and would never look as nice and shiny as it once had.
"Unless you hide another dragon down there, I doubt that the events of my last visit shall repeat," she replied with a mocking smirk.
"Let us hope for the sake of our future relations that this was just a joke." The goblin looked at her with a dour expression. He obviously did not share her idea of humor or any form of humor for the matter.
"So, will you let me access my vault in the lower levels or do I need to file that complaint?"
She didn't shy away when the goblin looked at her with a withering glare, his mouth slightly ajar, revealing his crooked teeth. It was easy to understand why many wizards consider goblins to be hideous. But she had stared down a dark lord, so a goblin in a foul mood looked almost cute and cuddly in comparison. Almost...
"I shall accompany you, together with an armed guard," the goblin grumbled. "You will not be allowed to leave our sights..."
"Except when I am inside my own vault. Yes, I already know the drill," she replied.
Ragnok grumbled some more, but he finally relented and lead her down the path towards the vaults. Two more goblins, both armed with halberds, followed some steps behind them. For a moment she wondered idly whether or not these weapons could even kill her in her current state. She had survived much worse already and for all she knew about the curse of immortality, the goblins could likely skewer her without striking a killing blow.
But she wouldn't risk it. It wouldn't be worth the trouble. And the morbid nature of her own fascination with her curse was quite unsettling.
The cart ride to the lower levels was a blast, as always. Ever since her first visit, these rides had been the favorite part of every visit to the bank.
"This is the end of the network," Ragnok growled behind her, as the cart they sat in came to an abrupt stop, deep down in the lowest levels of Gringotts' cavernous underground.
"This doesn't look familiar," Dorea said, "I thought I had seen the lowest levels when I was here to see the Lestrange Vault."
"You mean when you came here to break into a secure vault like a common thief," Ragnok grumbled.
"I doubt there is anything common about me," she japed, "And I did it for the greater good, Ragnok. All for the greater good."
"Property damage that you wouldn't be able to pay off in several lifetimes of work, the destruction of defensive spells and protective wards on sixteen different levels of the underground caverns, theft of a dragon, rampaging through the bank on the back of that dragon and the injury of dozens of employees. Not to mention the damage our Bank's reputation would have to deal with, should anyone ever find out about this! Excuse me when I say this, but your greater good is a large pile of Centaur dung."
Dorea laughed, as the angry goblin continued to rant for some time more. The goblins may complain and curse her name, but they were also one of the few groups that were actually grateful for what she had done. Rants and ridiculous security measures aside, they knew that they would have lost everything, had Voldemort won the war. And they showed their gratefulness by neither suing her nor demanding more than a paltry sum for the damage she had caused. That alone already made them better people in her mind than most of the wizards and witches she had encountered so far.
"We are here, Secure Vault 9231," Ragnok announced.
Dorea gulped, as she looked at the closed door of the Vault. The goblin went ahead to open it, as she pondered whether it was such a good idea to come down here. The Vault of Hardwin and Iolanthe Potter, a relic of a distant time, left behind by her ancestors. There wouldn't be any great treasures down here. According to the family ledgers she had found in her grandfather's vault, some ancestor had plundered all the riches from this vault a few generations after Iolanthe's death. Judging by her ancestor's later fate, he had oh so wisely invested all the gold in enough wine to drink himself into an early grave. It didn't matter, though, as she had more than enough money thanks to her grandfather's foresight and careful planning.
This wasn't about riches... this was about knowledge. Among the unsalable things left behind were personal texts and books that had been far more common in the past than they are these days.
"Hurry when you are in there, time is money and being with you means wasting both," Ragnok growled at her, as he walked away from the now open door of the vault.
She was surprised by how small the place really was. The Lestrange Vault, which couldn't be far away from this place, was almost three times, no four times the size. But all she could see there was a small room, illuminated by a large crystal chandelier, with one wooden table and a chair. A few books and a rolled up parchment were on the table, together with a gilded feather and an inkwell that had dried up centuries ago. The solid gray walls, cast in a bluish light by the chandelier, looked oppressive all around her. She certainly wouldn't be spending more time than necessary.
She could have sworn that the dark walls around her were moving closer with every passing moment, but that might have been just a trick of the unnatural light in the vault. But one thing she did not imagine, the dreadful cold. It seeped into her very bones, chilling and unnerving, as faint voices brought back the most dreadful voices she could remember.
Was there a Dementor in this room? She had her wand in hand, as she searched every corner of the room, but she found nothing of the sort. She was the only living being inside of this tomb-like place.
Dorea knew that she had to get out of this vault. Quickly. But not without finding anything of use.
She had a look at the books on the table first. Three were there, all written in different languages. One in Latin, one in Greek. She couldn't read either of them but decided to take them with her. She would find a way to translate them... later. And the third, she didn't recognize that language at all. Maybe she should find someone to help her with this.
Hermione came to mind, but Dorea quickly shook her head. After the trouble her friend had caused her before, she wouldn't involve the bossy woman even more in this mess. Helpful or not, these kind of secrets are better not shared. Not even with the closest of friends and family. She had learned this lesson by now.
She shuddered, as a strangled scream seemed to echo in the room. But as she looked around, she neither saw the source nor did any of the goblins come to investigate. Far from it, she could still hear their derisive chatter outside. They even spoke English, so she would understand all the unflattering things they had to say. It wasn't about her in particular, but rather a mess of every prejudice and insult towards wizards and witches they knew.
"Better get this over with," Dorea muttered, as she continued.
She unrolled the parchment, which had been placed next to the books. Thankfully it was written in English, albeit a very old form of English that was nearly as hard to read as the books. But she managed to decipher some of it.
"Beware the cursed death and end of all. Darkest day and coldest night, when the fires of the fourteen are cast aside..."
Just trying to figure out what this was about made her head hurt. Not to mention that her thoughts turned ever darker, the more time she spent in this vault... no, this tomb.
Neither the books nor the parchment had yielded any immediate answers. She had hoped for some clues or obscure knowledge about her Deathly Hallows problem. The Cloak of Invisibility had become a Potter heirloom when Iolanthe Peverell had married Hardwin Potter and even Perenelle Flamel had mentioned Iolanthe during their conversation. Now she would have to wait until...
"Finish up in there, time is money," Ragnok called from outside of the vault. He was eager to be rid of her it seemed.
But it didn't matter. Another cursory glance around the vault revealed nothing else of interest, so she just took the parchment and the books, shrunk them and placed them in the bottomless bag she always carried on her belt.
She turned around and left, not looking back until the door of the vault was sealed shut once more. She wouldn't return, that's for sure. The oppressive feeling was not something she would want to subject herself to again.
"Are we done here?" the goblin asked, as he looked at her with an expression that was either his way of showing loathing or just simple boredom. It was always hard to tell with goblins because they loathe boredom.
"Almost. I just want to collect some money before I leave, so please take me to my usual vault," Dorea replied with mock cheerfulness. The gloom still weighed on her mind, but she wouldn't show such weakness in front of Ragnok and his guards. Only when their backs were turned towards her, she allowed herself to shiver, to get rid of the urge that had plagued her from the moment she had stepped out of the vault.
Half an hour later she was back in Diagon Alley, her purse once more filled to the brim and the ever-growing desire to visit her remaining friends and family. That cursed vault and its dark whispers... just seeing them all, safe and sound, would do wonders for her continued sanity.
But it was already getting too late to go and visit Teddy. Not to mention that she was still not back on speaking terms with Hermione. Not until her bossy friend realizes that she had overstepped a lot of boundaries. So the Weasleys were out, too. Neville was already back at Hogwarts to prepare for the coming school year and Merlin alone knows where Luna and her husband have ended up on their latest excursion to find obscure magical beasts all around the world.
Begrudgingly she had to accept that her visits would have to wait for another day. Maybe she would even take a trip to Hogwarts. Seeing Hagrid and Headmistress McGonagall would be nice. But for the moment, she would probably just buy something to eat, before she goes home for a good and long night of sleep. She hadn't had one of those in a long time.
It was quite late when Dorea finally made it back home. Her quick stop in the Leaky Cauldron had turned into a somewhat happy reunion with several other friends from school. She had almost forgotten that Hannah Abbott, now Hannah Longbottom, was the current boss of the pub, so it came as a surprise when she met not just her, but also several other former Hufflepuff and Gryffindor girls at the locale.
It was a nice surprise for sure. Only happy talk, about friends and family. Who married who, who has children and all the latest gossip that came with it. None of them talked about work or the past, which was a godsend. For a night she was just one of the girls, something she had not experienced very often during her time growing up.
It was well past midnight when Dorea finally got home. She ready for the furious greeting of the old lady for being out so late, for living alone as an unmarried woman and most importantly, for having less than absolutely pure blood... But instead of the usual shrieking and cursing of mother dearest, as she had taken to calling Walburga Black, she was met with utter silence.
The door had still been locked and all lights had been switched off, but something else was different. Something was missing. Not just the shrieking, but also the reassuring feeling of Grimmauld Place's heavy wards. Instead of the shield that promised protection from all ills of the world, there was only the coldness of the empty rooms.
Constant Vigilance! If there was one thing Moody had taught her, it was to always expect the worst in such situations.
Her wand was quickly in her hands and protection charms were cast. She had learned quite a bit about hiding herself through magic during the war, so masking her presence wasn't much of an issue. But she hadn't fought in over eight years and fear was slowly taking hold of her. Would she still be able to muster the will to fight to the bitter end if necessary?
She proceeded slowly through the hallway, peeking into every room she passed. But there was nothing. In the kitchens she found Kreacher. The old elf had been stunned and left behind. She sighed in relief when a quick medical scan revealed no wounds or curses. Only a Stunner. But that also meant that someone had entered her home uninvited. And that angered her more than she would have thought possible.
Anger slowly overtook her initial fear, as she resumed her search of the house. The basement had been just as abandoned as the ground floor, though someone had clearly been snooping through her potions lab. Carefully sorted and stored ingredients lay strewn across the floor and potions she had created for emergencies had been opened and spilled.
She continued her search on the first floor. Again nothing, except chaos in the bedrooms. Someone had been searching for something and they had not been subtle about it.
Her search continued until she had reached the floor that housed her own room. The topmost floor, where Sirius and his brother had lived.
"Found one!"
"Good, that leaves only two more. The bitch likely has the wand with her, so that only leaves the stone. Tear this place apart if need be, we mustn't allow this budding dark lady to possess such powerful artifacts! And take everything you find that can be used to put her behind bars for good."
She almost growled when she heard these voices. As she listened, she was able to assume that there were at the very least three people in her room. Two men and a woman. And it was clear what they were after. The Hallows.
Of course, their supposed leader had been right. She did have the wand with her. And the Resurrection Stone as well. There was barely a moment she didn't have the stone with her, hiding it underneath her robes, where it rests on a chain, nestled between the swell of her breasts. The conservative robes she had to wear at work covered her so well that no one would ever see it there.
But to her anger, the intruders had gotten their hands on the Cloak of Invisibility. Her father's precious heirloom. She wouldn't let them get away with that.
She finished climbing the stairs, crouching down to avoid detection. All intruders were still inside her room, causing havoc as they searched every nook and cranny to find the stone.
Dorea grit her teeth. This was her home, her life that these people are treating like trash. She had no idea who they are – yet, she thought grimly – but she would see to it that they would regret breaking in and stealing from her.
The thieves' backs were turned towards her, as they began rummaging through her clothes, so she could slip into her room unseen. One of the men was working his way through her underwear drawer, chuckling lecherously every now and then. He would be the first to go.
A few hexes, followed by an overpowered stunner took care of the first. By the time he crumbled to the ground in a heap that looked entirely uncomfortable, it was already too late for the others to interfere.
One down, two to go…
"Now look at that. The future dark lady herself spares us the time to hunt her down," the only female intruder spat. "Now do our world a favor and hand over the artifacts."
"You really believe it would be this easy?" Dorea replied snidely.
"No," the woman chuckled darkly, "I believe it is time for you to die. We cannot allow someone as powerful as you to remain outside of the Ministry's control."
She should have known. The peace was too good to be true. Without a proper enemy to unite them, the Ministry has begun to deteriorate once again. Now they were running around like a headless chicken, attacking all they cannot control.
Are Hermione and Kingsley even aware of this? Likely not. They are good people, with the right intentions, but they are only two in a government full of corrupt and incompetent people. No, this reeked more of the foul play she would expect from the Ministry's only unsupervised arm. The Unspeakables… so they had made their move after all. But a kill order, that was unexpected.
"Finally, no more excuses. Potter has been nothing but trouble in the past. My uncle always had it right, she needs to be put away for the sake of our country. Don't hesitate, take her down," the woman ordered.
"I really don't know what stuff you guys are drunk on, but I will not accept your continued attacks on me. Hand over my possessions and get the fuck out or you will be in a world of pain," Dorea promised. She was pissed and this was just about the last straw. She was done with this insipid magical world and its self-destructive government.
"Finally you show your real face, Potter. We have always known that you are the greatest threat to our world. No matter how much you pretend otherwise," the woman spat. "But don't worry, we will make your death look like an accident, for the sake of your friends."
Dorea had enough of the arrogant bitch. No more playing nice, no more pretending to be their heroine. They have turned on her at every chance they got. She had switched roles between heroine and villain so often during her time at Hogwarts, that she just couldn't bring herself to care anymore.
No stunners, no stupid hexes. Only curses, powerful and dangerous. She would bring this to a swift end.
Her assailants reciprocated in kind. Neither side was willing to allow the other to leave this fight unscathed. But there was one thing the Unspeakables had not thought about. Dorea's victory over Voldemort was neither a fluke nor a stroke of luck. She had trained, she had suffered, and she had grown during her time on the run. She wasn't that scared little girl she had been when Hagrid had first introduced her to the magical world…
Her opponents were good, surely seasoned duelists. Some of the many who could have made a difference during the war. Some of the many who never bothered fighting for their world. Dorea was sick and tired of these people. Those who would let children do the fighting for them, only to bitch and moan at the end about the unfairness of the outcome.
The woman was the more vicious of the two Unspeakables and soon enough she was the only one Dorea was fighting, with the man standing back, only adding cheap shots whenever he saw the chance for it. But there were spells even those two did not know. Sectumsempra, Snape's little creation being one of them. It cut deep into the woman's flesh, causing long gashes of blood and parted flesh.
The woman collapsed on the ground, crying out in agony. But even as she lay there, she wasn't willing to give up. Only when Dorea cut off her wand hand with a curse, she finally was done.
"You won't succeed, you damn bitch," the woman spat. "You will burn for this! Uncle Cornelius was right. You and your master have destroyed him and you will not stop until our entire world crumbles beneath your heels."
Dorea regarded her with a sad smile. "So delusional. I have actually studied the laws about home invasion some time ago. Had to, really. We had crashed a party at Malfoy Manor and I just wanted to make sure that old Lucius isn't trying to fuck me over by citing some obscure old laws." And he hadn't. To everyone's surprise, Lucius Malfoy had completely retreated from public life and not made any attempt to regain his lost power. Draco later claimed the Malfoy seat in the Wizengamot, but her childhood nemesis dared not attack her either.
"My colleagues will get you. There will be no safe place for you in this world!" the woman promised darkly. "You are done for!"
Dorea looked up, at the only remaining thief. He looked at her wide-eyed, obviously shocked by the viciousness of her attacks. He wouldn't attack her outright.
"Give me the cloak," she ordered.
The man shook like a leaf in the wind, but despite the orders and rage-filled howling of his companion, he complied and handed over the Cloak of Invisibility.
"Now take your stupid friends a get lost," she barked.
Maybe it was a mistake to let them leave alive. The woman, at least, would most likely not fight for a very long time. Maybe forever, but Dorea didn't really care for her plight. All she wanted was to see them gone. She wasn't some ice cold killer. Even enraged she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She cursed herself for being too weak to do what was necessary for her own safety. But at the very least this meant that she was still better than the monster others wanted to paint her as.
"I'm so done with this world," she muttered before she allowed herself one frustrated outburst of magic. She blew a hole in the wall between her room and the one next to it. Who would have thought that such an act of violence would actually be cathartic... they never taught her that at St. Mungos... Maybe out of fear of the possible property damage.
Dorea realized quickly that her actions on this night will have consequences, though. Dire consequences. She had to leave. Immediately. And maybe she would never come back.
She ran through her house, to collect everything she would need on the run. Whole trunks with potions and ingredients disappeared in her satchel, shrunk and featherweight charmed. The tent she had bought for that camping trip with her friends, which they had postponed at least a dozen time because of work, followed soon after. Books on healing, potions, and other magic. She didn't have the time to be picky, so everything that seemed useful just went along.
Once she was done, she quickly put on some muggle clothes and bound her raven black hair in a low ponytail. Dressed in one of Sirius' older leather jackets, she was finally ready to make her escape. She passed by Kreacher on her way out. The poor sod was still stunned, but she decided against reviving him. She already had seen one devoted House Elf die to protect her, so she really didn't want this grumbling old guy to get caught up in her mess.
Dorea didn't bother to look the door behind her, as she stepped out into London's dark streets. Sirius motorcycle had been parked just outside, ready to be taken out for a spin. Now it would get her away from London and all her pursuers.
She would ride to the coast. To Dover or somewhere close, so she could ride a broom to get off the island. And from there... who knows where her travels might take her. Anywhere was better than this hellhole, that much she knew for sure.
Without looking back, she rode off into the night.
Her escape ended abruptly, not even two streets away from Grimmauld Place when a spell blasted her off the motorcycle and against a parked car nearby. The car's alarm system howled, as Dorea tried to regain her bearing. Her ribs hurt, but it didn't feel like any of her bones had shattered.
She looked around, the Elder Wand already tightly gripped in her hand. The first thing she saw was Sirius' motorcycle, utterly ruined by whatever spell it had been hit with. All bend and broken, it was hard to tell what it must have looked like before.
Utter hatred rose in her, as one of the few things she had left of Sirius had been destroyed right before her eyes. Then she saw the culprits. Nearly two dozen witches and wizards, all dressed in the same robes as the three she had encountered before.
"For fuck's sake, that's what I get when I try to be a sane and kind person," she spat. She wanted to curse her soft heart. Had she just taken down those three for good, she would have had all the time in the world to escape. Instead, she had allowed them not just to survive, but also to escape. "Stupid Dorea. Next time, no holding back!"
If there ever was a next time.
"Give up, Potter, you are done for!" one of the wizards yelled at her. "Your madness ends tonight! Time to go to your precious headmaster!"
A hail of spells rushed towards her, obliteration her hastily erected shields. Only by jumping behind the car, she avoided the worst of the onslaught. But her cover would last forever. The people in magical Britain may be lazy and unimaginative in most situations, but when it comes to destroying things, they suddenly turn into terrible geniuses.
She kept her head down, as she tried to think of a way to escape. Apparition came to mind, but the moment she tried she could feel the dull ache in her head, which was only caused by wards. This time her enemies had thought of all eventualities. Without a care in the world, the Unspeakables continued their assault on her hiding place, content to just fire away until everything in their part has been obliterated. She even heard them laugh. They were enjoying this delay, likely because it gave her time to regret all her life decisions.
The laughter and chatter of her enemies stopped abruptly, instead of screaming and chaos could be heard. Dorea dared to take a look, as the spells aimed at her came to an end. What she saw came as a surprise. Three white-robed figures had appeared. They had entered the fight, taking the Unspeakables by surprise. Many of the Ministry's goons were out for the count, while others hid or fled. Their entire group was in disarray because of the sudden surprise attack.
"This brings back memories," one of the white-robed said. Judging by the voice it was a woman, though the large cloaks and hoods kept their identities hidden.
"Just like old times. Only this time we have some other black-robed assholes on the receiving end of our spells," another agreed. A second woman.
Their leader seemed to be a man, who barked their orders. "Lene, see to it that Potter gets out of here. Our Lady will not be happy should anything interfere with our plans. Cas, you're with me, let's finish this fight."
The one called Lene suddenly appeared before Dorea. Before she could even complain, the white-robed woman had grabbed her and activated some sort of Port Key. Within moments Dorea was once more out of harm's reach.
They had arrived at some sort of cave. At least it looked like one. It was dark, with the only source of light coming from a series of torches. On the far side of the room was a small structure that gave her the chills.
"Is that..."
An archway, like a portal, with a mist like structure in between. She had seen such a thing before. The memory of it still hurt...
"You may think you know what it is, but you don't," the woman told her.
To Dorea's never-ending consternation, the woman refused to elaborate.
"And who are you?" she pressed on with her questions. The sudden turn of events made her head spin and she really hates it when other people keep secrets from her.
"I serve Lord and Lady Flamel. The Lady had been very concerned with your well-being and had tasked us to keep an eye on you," the woman replied.
Dorea merely groaned. Perenelle Flamel certainly was very similar to Albus Dumbledore. She, too, didn't know the meaning of the word no. At least this time it had saved her from certain doom, but it still raised some very important questions.
She wanted to ask more when an audible crack announced the arrival of another person. The leader of the group had arrived, his hood down, revealing his face for Dorea to see.
He had a rugged look, with black hair and gray eyes. Several short scars decorated his chin and the back of his nose. None as brutal and gruesome to look at like those of good old Mad-Eye, but they were still testaments of a seasoned warrior... and a concerning lack of a proper healer in their group. The oddest thing, though, he did look familiar. Or maybe she had just spied him once, while he was on duty watching her.
"You look like you had your fun," Lene commented, followed by a chuckle, "Nothing better than a good exercise. Gets your blood pumping and all that."
"Not now, Lene. We have only very little time," the man said, as she approached Dorea. "The Cloak, give it to me."
"Excuse me? I've already fought against three assholes to keep my family heirloom, don't force my hand a second time in one night!" Dorea exclaimed, extremely irritated by the man's gruff attitude.
"I have no need for Death's cursed playthings. But those Unspeakables have placed a tracking charm on it. That's why they found you so quickly."
"And how do you know that?" Dorea asked. She didn't buy any of his crap. If she had learned one thing this night, then it was that Mad Eye's constant paranoia might something she should learn herself.
"Oh, let me guess, you caught their leader and beat it out of him, right?" Lene exclaimed, giddy like a child in an amusement park.
"Not now, Lene," the man barked, "Now give it here, so we can get rid of the charm."
Dorea weighed her options carefully, but no matter how much she tortured her poor brain, she couldn't come up with any better recourse than to obey. So she pulled the cloak from her satchel and gave it to him. "Good. This will take a moment. Their spells are notoriously difficult to dispel. You get ready for your trip. Lene, help her."
"My trip?"
"If you're going to see our Lady, you need to get some other clothes. She lives in a place where your current style of clothing is not... encouraged for women," Lene explained.
"What? She has actually found a place that is even more backward and stupid than magical Britain?" Dorea remarked. Lene laughed, as she pushed Dorea to another corner of the cave, where clothes and other things could be seen.
"Hurry now, and don't complain. Lady Flamel will explain everything once you arrive," Lene insisted.
"And what if I don't want to go to her?" Dorea challenged. "I'm kinda sick and tired of all the people trying to control me."
"You can always go back and finish your fight with the Unspeakables on your terms," Lene's male companion barked from the other side of the room. "We will be leaving in a few moments. With or without you."
"And your ladies orders?"
"She has no need for reluctant followers, fools and ingrates. At least try not to be all of those when you finally meet her again," the man replied.
Dorea grumbled some more but said nothing. This entire situation was so messed up. She really didn't want to go to Perenelle, only to become the pawn in another geriatric fool's plan. Freedom, that's all she wants... but neither her current company nor the Ministry... nor her friends would ever let her have that. Now she had to make a decision. Which bad choice would suck the least in the long run?
Thinking back to the previous hour and her very one-sided fight against the full might of the Unspeakables, that decision was an easy one to make. In a way, it shocked her how easy it was, because she was sure that once she goes through that portal, she might never see her friends and family again.
Shouldn't it be harder to leave everything behind?
"Fine," she relented, "Help me with those stupid clothes. They already look uncomfortable as hell."
Lene laughed, as she went over to assist Dorea. The clothes seemed to be a mixture of a well-worn traveling robe, with a stiff and uncomfortable linen dress underneath. Dorea didn't like it all, and first chance she gets, she would either ditch this stupid getup for something more comfortable or at the very least she would use some charms to improve this stuff.
Judging by the hurried way Lene had forced her into these clothes, time was of the essence, so comfort would have to wait for a little bit.
"I'm done here," the man called out to them after he had finished undoing the tracking charm. "Those unimaginative nitwits at the Ministry have actually learned a new trick or two, quite the surprise."
"Well, we are done as well. So shall we go?" Lene replied.
The man approached them and handed Dorea the Cloak before he walked further towards the portal. "Cas will meet up with us on the other side. She'll use the portal in the forest after she has gotten rid of her pursuers."
"Why does she always get the fun parts?" Lene lamented.
The man sighed, "That's because she is dependable and capable. That was the reason why the Dark Lord had hunted her personally during our war."
"If you say so, you say so," Lene said before she turned back towards Dorea. "Alright, it's time to leave this world behind. Don't worry, you'll be fine."
Dorea still didn't believe even half of the things those two were saying. For all she knew, this might be a trick and this portal is actually another version of the Veil of Death. Wizards and Witches in Britain may be masters of the discipline of applied idiocy, but Dorea really didn't want to find out the hard way whether this was a trap or not.
"And how am I supposed to believe you?" she asked, her arms crossed beneath her chest.
"Lene will go through the portal first. You will follow," the man grumbled. He obviously did not appreciate being doubted.
Suddenly the cave was filled with the telltale sounds of Apparition, as the Unspeakables had finally managed to catch up them. They just didn't understand when to give up.
"It's over, Potter. Give up now and there will be no more need for violence!" one of the dark-robed wizards yelled.
"Lene, go!"
Dorea's gaze shifted from the increasing number of wizards in the cave, towards the portal behind her. She only caught a last glimpse at the hem of Lene's white robes, as the woman disappeared.
"They are escaping, open fire!"
"Get through the Portal, Potter, I will deal with this situation."
"But..." though she had no desire to fight, the idea of having others sacrifice themselves for her sake did not sit well with her at all. Too many had already died for her sake...
Her would-be protector, though, seemed more than a little annoyed by her inability to follow his simple order. So he didn't wait for her response and simply shoved her hard enough, so she stumbled backward through the portal. The last thing she saw was how his protective shield crumbled and how a plethora of spells reigned down on them and the portal.
"Stupid girl. More trouble than she is worth if you ask me," the man grumbled.
The Unspeakables had stopped attacking the moment Dorea had vanished from sight. Instead, they were cussing and shouting. They had lost their target again, this time maybe for good.
"You are under arrest, sir, for assisting a felon escape and for attacking agents of the British Ministry of Magic."
"You all are such fools. You are the ones trespassing and now I have to clean up your mess," he said, as he shook his head in mock exasperation.
Before his opponents even knew what was happening, he had raised his wand and shot a spell at the array of runes which had been placed on the ceiling of the cave for such an occasion. Barely a moment later, the cave was collapsing. Not that he would have seen it. By the time the last lucky Unspeakables managed to apparate out of the cave, he was long gone through the portal. All traces had been removed and the portal they had used was buried beneath enough stones to hide it forever.
It was calm. So very calm. Dorea had her eyes closed and for a long moment, she did not want to open them at all. She had no idea why, but she was currently lying on a patch of soft grass, with the sun on her face. Birds were singing and nearby she could hear the peaceful gurgling of a stream.
After the stressful last few hours, this place was like balm to her soul. But soon enough she would have to open her eyes and face the world. Oddly cheerful Lene or her grumpy boss would show up and drag her to Perenelle Flamel. She really did not want to meet that woman again. The last meeting had left her with questions and an uncomfortable case of paranoia. No need to repeat this, the outcome was clear either way...
But for the oddest reason, no one came to bother her. She wasn't sure for how long she had just rested there on the grass. No one came to get her. So eventually she did allow herself a peek at this wonderful new place.
It was just as beautiful as it had sounded. She was in a valley, surrounded by high mountains with snow-capped, grey-green peaks. The land looked whole and healthy, with no sign of civilization whatsoever. There were only birds in the sky, no planes or foolish wizards in whatever contraption they had charmed to fly.
"Now this is country," Dorea said. She smiled brightly, as the truth slowly sunk in. This was not a dream. This was most likely not the afterlife or else she would have already been mugged by one or more of the important people she had lost. "So the portal was the real deal after all," she mumbled, "But where the hell am I?"
A/N: I guess this is enough for today.
I know Dorea was a whole lot... darker and more aggressive in this chapter. I wanted to show just how much she was actually fed up with the world that she lives in. Everyone is giving her a hard time because they believe she is responsible for all the ill in their world. Even the goblins love to rile her up, though on their part it is more trash talk than actual malice. But no matter where she goes, people treat her differently because of who she is. Depending on the person, she can be savior, enemy, or the one supposedly responsible for a loved one's death. Wizarding Britain has been shown as a very bigoted place, where even the press is more about slander and lies than actual truth. Dorea has suffered the most under these people, in the world that had once been her refuge from her bad childhood home. But now she's done with her old world and all she wants now is a new start. I'm not sure I conveyed that properly, but that was the intention.
Of course, her escape plan didn't work out, curse that Potter luck for that, and she did not go completely willingly to Westeros, but now she has a fresh start. The question now is simple, will the trouble of her old world follow her into the new one as well? There are portals that connect both worlds, though they are rare and well hidden. The Flamels and their servants obviously know a lot about them and they didn't even consider losing one of the portals much of a loss. Maybe someone will stumble upon another and follow Dorea into this different world. Or maybe something from Westeros will end up in Britain instead...
Did she take everything she has with her? Not at all. She took a lot of the things she had at home, which includes a lot of money since she didn't trust the goblins enough to leave everything in their care. But neither did she follow that common trope of "I gift all I have to family and friends because I'm the only good and selfless person in this world". But it seems unlikely that Teddy would ever inherit anything. He is the grandson of a female Black. A disinherited female Black. If there was anyone who might get the few remaining possessions of House Black, it would be Draco, the son of the last remaining legitimate Black. No one likes that, but it is the likeliest outcome.
The Flamel's servants, Lene, Cas, and their grumbling leader, are actually canon characters, though they never appeared in the books in person. Why do they follow the Flamels, well some might be able to guess that once you know who they are. One important thing here is that there is a stable and constant connection between both worlds, at least for those who know where the portals are hidden. But these three characters are just a side attraction and will mostly show up in Flamel related scenes.
So now Dorea is in a new world, in a very peculiar place. The Vale of Arryn, a nice and quiet place to start a journey. The home of knights and ancient Andal strongholds. Much to see and much to experience. Not to mention that in the year 271 AL, there are two young boys at the Eyrie, to be fostered by Lord Jon Arryn. Eddard is mere eight years old at this time and has just arrived in the Vale. Robert is merely a year older than his soon to be best friend, but both together might be up for some adventures.
I hope most of you liked this chapter and will continue to read once I've managed to finish the next chapter. The story will be less gloomy for Dorea, though Westeros is by no means a peaceful place to live in. Cya...