With her title secured and her new satchel bag filled to the brim with galleons, Eva decided that it was time to get the essentials, for both school and her grand plans. Firstly, if she was going to fix this, she needed support from unlikely places, namely the Slytherins.
She'd struggled to identify with heirs of the other Ancient and Noble Houses in her timeline, struggling to blend in with their tailored robes. They'd taken one look at her overgrown hair and tatty muggle clothes, and immediately turned their noses up at her. Whilst Eva was mature enough to not judge by appearance, she also knew that these were children, and appearances mattered a great deal.
With that thought in mind, she headed out from Gringotts, house ring sparkling on her finger, and straight into Madam Selina's Salon. Her hair was in desperate need of a trim, and she'd learned in her sixth year that a good haircut was an instant improvement in appearance.
Before, Eva had grown a long fringe, desperate to hide her protruding scar. She'd been sick of the constant public attention, the stares and whispers wherever she went. Now, though, with the horcrux gone, her scar had faded to a mere pink lightning bolt, barely visible against her pale skin.
"And what can I do for you, Miss...?" greeted Madam Selina.
Eva liked Madam Selina a great deal. She was kind and caring, and did not judge - she only aimed to help. Her prices were reasonable and fair, and she'd never made a large fuss over Eva's 'celebrity' status.
"I think you may have your work cut out for you, Madam." greeted Eva with a small smile.
"Well, then we'd better get started, hadn't we?" grinned Madam Selina.
Eva was quickly transformed. Cutting hair with magic, it seemed, was far faster than cutting hair with muggle scissors, no matter the skill of the hairdresser. Not that Eva had much experience with the muggle hairdresser - Aunt Petunia had taken her once, just before the disastrous visit with Mr Mason and his wife in her second year. Petunia had claimed that she didn't want the guests to see her looking untidy, and had even bought her a new dress for the occasion.
Within twenty minutes, Eva's hair had been transformed. No longer was there a frizzy mass of ginger curls, falling down to her bum. Instead, soft, auburn curls fell to just below her shoulders, highlighted subtly with blonde that shone in the sun.
Madam Selina had applied a treatment potion, running it through Eva's hair with her hands, that had immediately removed any remaining frizz from her hair and left it in soft ringlets. Eva had pretended that this was incredible to her - and really, it was - except she'd had the same potion in her hair after her sixth year.
Thanking Madam Selina profusely, and shaking her delicately manicured hand, Eva left the shop, already feeling more like her older self. Next stop - the wand shop. Eva remembered her first visit to the wand shop fondly, and couldn't help but hope she'd have the same wand. It would feel wrong, otherwise.
Ollivander's was as narrow and shabby as ever, with only a single wand on a dusty purple cushion in the windowsill. Wand boxes covered the floor to ceiling of every wall, and Eva was once more struck by just how many wands Garrick Ollivander had made over the years.
"Good morning." greeted Eva, catching the attention of the wand maker.
"Ah, yes." smiled Ollivander. "Yes, I thought I'd be seeing you soon enough, Miss Potter."
"It's Lady Potter, as of this morning, sir." replied Eva politely. "Though Eva will do perfectly."
"Of course, Lady Potter. I would recognise you anywhere - you are the spitting image of your mother, you know. I remember hers fondly... let me think ... ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Perfect for charm work." dreamed Ollivander, gaining a far-away look once more. "Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration."
"Perfect for them. However, I've been told that the wand chooses the witch." grinned Eva, recalling his words from her previous timeline with a smile.
"Indeed, Lady Potter. Indeed. Let us see which wand chooses you."
Ollivander disappeared into the back of his tiny shop, into presumably the world's smallest, most cramped stockroom. He returned several moments later, levitating stacks of boxes with his wands and placing them on the shop counter.
"Try this first. Beechwood and Dragon Heartstring, nine inches. Nice and flexible." spoke Ollivander.
Eva knew from her first timeline that this wand had caused several glass jars to explode when she had held it, but for the sake of continuity, picked up the wand from the box all the same. Immediately, the wand felt wrong in her palms, and when she flicked it, the empty glass jars on the counter did indeed explode violently.
"Oh dear, definitely not that one!" sighed Ollivander, shaking his head.
Eva tried several other wands, and if her memory served her correctly (it had been seven years since she'd done this, after all), the next wand to try would be hers, the twin to Lord Voldemort's.
"I wonder... hmm, yes... how unusual. Holly, phoenix feather, eleven inches. Nice and supple." announced Ollivander, digging through boxes until he pulled out her wand.
Excitedly, Eva picked up the wand, expecting to feel the normal rush of warmth. Instead, she instantly felt nauseous. Every nerve in her body was screaming at her to put the wand down, and without even trying it, she hastily dropped it back in the box.
What. The. Hell.
Why is my wand not my wand, thought Eva, and in that case, what is my wand?
Frowning, Ollivander quickly tucked the box back away. They tried several more wands, and Eva was quickly losing hope. How could they not find a wand? And what of the twin cores? What would happen now?
"Ah, try this, my dear. Acacia wood, Curupira hair core, ten inches. Flexible." spoke Ollivander, frowning.
"I've never heard of a Curupira hair core." frowned Eva. "Is it common?"
"Not at all, no, not at all." said Ollivander, shaking his head. "It is occasionally used in Brazil. Not used often, no, not often at all. Curupira wands choose only unpredictable, talented witches and wizards."
Nodding, Eva took the wand out of the box, and once she was holding it in her palm, her jaw dropped on instinct. Now that was a good feeling. It felt different to the holly and phoenix wand had, the first time. This felt right.
Eva quickly paid for the wand, leaving the shop, her thoughts jumbled. Why was this her wand? It was beautiful, the cherry-orange wood smoothly polished, just a bit longer than her original wand. Would she be taller in this lifetime? Deciding to roll with it, Eva continued on with her shopping trip.
Dipping into a nearby alley, Eva quick took her wand from the box, transfiguring her tatty shirt into a nice, pale blue muggle blouse, and fixing the rips in her dark jeans, shrinking them several sizes too. Whilst she couldn't make robes out of her clothing, she could fix her current clothing enough that it wouldn't be immediately offensive.
Strolling down the high street, she caught sight of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, a fond smile gracing her features. As she pulled open the door and stepped inside, the bell tinkling as the door opened, Eva relished in the wave of familiarity.
Oh, bugger. One thing that Eva hadn't yet planned for was how to take on the Slytherin Purebloods, face-to-face. She was going to have to plan fast, as stood on a stool in the centre of the room, was one Draco Malfoy. Whilst she felt distaste well up inside her, Eva also saw an opportunity.
When she first met Malfoy, aged 11, she knew little of the wizarding world and how it worked. This time, however, she would almost be an equal. The Head of an ancient and noble house, of a more refined appearance, and far more mature to boot - mentally, she was 18, after all.
It was hard to associate the young Malfoy in front of her with her memory of the pureblood. This Malfoy was young, untarnished, not yet fully exposed to dark magic. His hair was slicked back (she'd forgotten how utterly stupid it used to look), his stature small and skinny, only around five foot four.
Images flashed in her mind of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, laying on the stone tiles, blood pooling around Malfoy. His agonised screams, face paler than it had been even that year. Her screams for help, desperate attempts to fix what she had done.
Shaking the thoughts from her head, Eva walked towards the luxury robes she could see, beginning to scan through them. Soon enough, she'd caught the attention of Madam Malkin. The elderly witch backed away from Malfoy, allowing the pins to magically insert themselves into the robes he was being fitted for.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked politely. Eva nodded with a smile.
"Yes, I will need Hogwarts robes. However, I also have need of a new wardrobe, a mixture of formal dress robes and casual robes, I think."
Well, that should work, thought Eva. And indeed it did, as at the mention of an entire wardrobe of robes - which would cost an eye-watering amount of galleons - Malfoy's head immediately snapped up.
"I don't believe we've met," smirked Malfoy. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, Heir to House Malfoy."
She held out a hand, and he kissed it politely. "Lady Evangelina Potter, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter."
Almost comically, Eva watched as Malfoy's eyes widened, and she could see the gears turning in his mind. You could nearly see the point he realised that Lady Potter was also The-Girl-Who-Lived.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lady."
"Well met, Mr Malfoy." replied Eva.
With a farewell wave, Eva turned away from Malfoy and headed towards Madam Malkin, where she immediately began fitting Eva for the standard Hogwarts robes. As the pins magically sealed themselves into place, Eva couldn't help but admire what money could get you in the wizarding world - despite supposedly being 'standard', her robes were far more tailored than she had ever remembered them being.
It was a shame she had the body of an eleven year old.
When she moved onto the dress and casual robes, Eva was spoiled for choice. Madam Malkin had obviously overheard the conversation between Eva and Malfoy, as a range of exquisite witches' robes had appeared, in only the finest of fabrics and a wide range of colours.
As she was fitted for several sets of both formal and casual robes, her favourite being a forest green silk, Eva pondered over her journey so far. In the space of a day, she'd become Lady Potter, freed herself from the Dursleys, inherited an absolute fortune and introduced herself to high society - and it was only lunch time.
She'd agreed to pick up her robes the following day, since it was such a large order, and made short work of Flourish and Blotts, purchasing both her 'school books' (not that she would learn anything new from them) and several texts on defensive and offensive magic.
Her last stop had been the worst of all.
Eyelops Owl Emporium had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, the noise echoing from the shop extraordinary. Eva had swallowed deeply when she caught sight of Hedwig, her beautiful white feathers almost glowing in the midday sun.
No. Hedwig deserved better than this life. Giving her former owl a soft, affectionate stroke, Eva moved past Hedwig, beginning to look at the other owls. Though she longed for her former companion, the owl would never be her Hedwig. In the end, she'd chosen a large grey Screech owl, who had looked at her indignantly, hooting and moving along his perch, following Eva throughout the store until Eva had paid attention to the large owl. Remembering the old stories of knights and magic, Eva had named him Lancelot and placed him inside the cage she had bought.
Finishing her shopping, she headed back to the Leaky Cauldron, eating a warm meal of meat and vegetables - and really, that was all Tom served - before placing the fork down onto the table, enjoying the sensation of warmth spreading throughout her body and a full stomach.
Her unusually absent hunger reminded Evangelina of a bigger problem - the Dursleys. Technically, she was free of them. As Head of House Potter, she was legally an adult, and no longer required guardians, Muggle or Magical. However, she felt the need to alert them.
Putting the thought to one side, Eva saw an opportunity to take care of a more pressing matter - her current living situation. As Tom approached to clear away her empty bowl and dirty cutlery, Eva had a brilliant idea.
"Tom?", she questioned, garnering the barman's attention. "How long can one rent a room here?"
"As long as 'yeh like, I suppose." shrugged Tom with a friendly grin. "How long were you thinking, Miss?"
"Until September 1st?" offered Eva with a grin. "You can send the bill to my Gringotts account."
"Very well."
Tom disappeared, floating dishes with his wand as he left, and returned moments later, a rather old, rusty key in his hand. He placed it on the table in front of Eva with a nod.
"Room 3. Yours til September." grunted Tom.
Eva picked up the key with a grin, and, collecting her purchases, trailed up the stairs and located her room. The door opened when she inserted the key into the lock, and she sighed. Whilst she did remember what living in the cupboard was like, she'd grown accustomed over the years to the clean, comfortable Gryffindor Tower.
Pulling out her wand, Evangelina cast a thorough scourgify across the entire room, using a subtle ventus to blow the dust from each surface. Opening the window, she briefly marvelled over the view of Diagon Alley, before casting an air-freshening charm.
Pleased with her work, she placed Lancelot and his cage on the dresser, and opened it. He looked at her, his large amber eyes questioning, and Eva nodded. Satisfied that his mistress was happy, he sat by the windowsill, eager to hunt after being cooped up for so long.
Sitting down at the old vanity, Eva dug around in her shopping bags - she'd unpack later - and found a piece of parchment. Pulling out a pen, because why would she use a quill if she didn't have to, Eva began to write a letter to her Aunt Petunia.
Petunia,
I'm not coming back. The magical world will take care of me from now on. If Dumbledore comes, ignore him. Neither of us want me at Privet Drive.
Stay safe,
Evangelina Potter.
With a satisfied hum, Eva folded the parchment into an envelope, wrote the Dursley's address on the front, and handed it to Lancelot.
"4, Privet Drive. Do you know where to go, Lancelot?" asked Eva, who then laughed at the owl's indignant hoot. "Only give it to Petunia. Not Vernon or Dudley, they'll just destroy it."
Lancelot hooted in agreement, pecked her finger affectionately and allowed the letter to be attached to his leg. Once it was secure, he flew off through the window. Eva watched him until he was merely a dot in the sky, and let out a satisfied sigh.
Not bad for a day's work, she thought.