From the Daily Prophet, July 8th, 1992:
Gilderoy Lockhart selected for DADA professorship
Hilda did not care for portkey travel one bit. With a tug at her navel the earth fell out from under her, and she felt as though she were caught in a whirlpool. After several uncomfortable seconds, she landed, stumbling slightly. In her hands, Twig was shaking, eyes wide in surprise.
No, not one bit.
"Goodness," Johanna said, her face white as chalk. "What a ride."
Hilda was about to agree when she looked up. Her words died away.
Diagon Alley was perhaps the most fascinating place she had ever seen. A hodgepodge of old stone and timber buildings, some leaning precariously over the streets, formed a long shopping promenade. At the end of the street the stern marble facade of Gringotts bank rose above the other buildings. The streets were packed with men, women and children all dressed in a technicolor assortment of robes.
Hilda tried to find an appropriate response to the visual overload before her. "Wow," was all she could come up with.
"I know, I didn't know what I expected it to be like, but exceeds expectations."
"Where should we go first?" Hilda asked.
"Well, I need to go to the bank and open your account," Johanna said, pulling up her sleeve to check her watch. "You can look around, and we'll meet up at the bookshop at 11:30. Have fun, and don't get lost." They split up, Johanna going in one direction, Hilda and Twig in another.
Every shop window offered a new and incredible sight. Outside a sports supply shop, three young boys pressed their noses against the glass.
"Wicked, a Nimbus 2001!"
"I hear it's faster than the 2000 model."
"Yeah, but you pay for it with less maneuverability on tight turns."
The next shop was a pet store. In the window, several owls sat perched in brass bird cages, some sleeping, others preening themselves, on great horned owl snacking on a freeze-dried vole. "Shame they don't have a snowy owl." Twig looked up at Hilda and whimpered. Hilda laughed and patted him on the head. "Don't worry, Twig, I'm taking you to school with me. I want one for mum so we can send letters to each other. They're too expensive, I think," Hilda said, noticing a price tag on one of the cages. Hilda and her mother lived comfortably enough, but with Johanna's graphic design work and the part-time job at the hardware store, thrift was sometimes necessary. She turned away from the window. "Let's keep going. I want to see the potion supply shop. Eye of newt and salamander tails," she said, cackling like an old witch from a movie.
She moved on, past a family of gingers. The mother was pulling at her hair. "Where in Merlin's name could he be?"
"I'll go and ask around. He can't have floo'd in too far away," the father said, kissing his wife before dashing towards Gringotts.
Hilda walked on, eyes skyward, watching the buildings leaning overhead. As she walked on, they suddenly began to loom more menacingly, the strip of sky between the opposite rooftops getting narrower and narrower. It was only when Twig whimpered that she stopped and took stock of her surroundings. "Where are we?"
They were in a narrow, dimly lit street, probably one of the smaller alleys that branched off from Diagon Alley. Various unseemly individuals in hooded cloaks passed, some taking notice of her, most ignoring her completely. Hilda was bumped aside by an aristocratic man in a fur-lined cloak, carrying an ebony walking stick. "Sorry," she said.
"Watch where you're going, brat," the man replied. He turned to the boy behind him, possibly his son. "Come, Draco, we must hurry."
Hilda watched the two strangers walk downa ways before turning out of sight. "Rude," she muttered.
Johanna passed through the doorway of Gringotts and stopped, amazed. It seemed as though every time she found one amazing sight there was another just around the corner that trumped the last one. Her gaze fell from the high domed ceiling to the teller counters and the creatures seated behind them. "What on Earth are they?" she asked to herself.
"Goblins."
Johanna nearly leapt out of her skin. "Alfur?" she asked aloud. Several of the other bank patrons gave her a strange look. She smiled sheepishly and lowered her voice. "Have you been here all along?"
"Yes. I wanted to write a report on human magical culture for the elves back home, so I tagged along." Alfur hopped off of Johanna's shoulder and onto the flap of her purse. "It's all so fascinating, isn't it?"
Johanna nodded, looking back to the ugly creatures. "Goblins, you say?"
"Don't stare," Alfur advised. "They are proud creatures, quick to irritate. Be polite and don't smile—they may smile back, and that is a rather unpleasant sight to behold."
Johanna nodded, took a deep breath, and walked to the first available space at the counter. "Good morning, I would like to open an account."
The goblin, whose gold nameplate identified him as Lockjaw, looked up and frowned. "I will fetch the accounts manager. Please wait here."
The accounts manager appeared twenty minutes later followed by a tall, blond-haired man wearing fine robes and a perpetual smirk and accompanied by a blond boy about Hilda's age. "Thank you for coming in, Lord Malfoy. Always a pleasure to do business with our most valuable-ah, valued patron."
"Don't grovel, Hookfang, it's demeaning for the both of us." The man paused next to Johanna and looked her over, lip twitching into a sneer. "More Muggles every year," he said, shaking his head. "Come, Draco. We need to get to Borgin and Burke's before the old fool closes for lunch."
Hookfang waited until the man was out the door, then wiped the reverential smile from his face. "Ostentatious wretch," he muttered, followed by something in an unknown tongue (Gobbledegook, Alfur whispered to Johanna). He noticed Johanna and scowled. "You're here about the account?"
Before Johanna could reply, a man with a shock of ginger hair ran into the hall. "Have you seen Harry Potter?" he asked, catching sight of Hookfang.
Hookfang turned to a teller and barked something in Gobbledegook. "He has not been in here," the goblin replied. "But we will keep an eye out, Mr. Weasley."
The man nodded, then dashed back into the street. Hookfang shook his head and turned back to Johanna. "Follow me, please."
They passed behind the teller booth and through the door, which led to a ramped passageway carved from the rock below the bank's foundations. After making various turns and going through several doors, they reached Hookfang's office, a small but well-furnished room with several axes mounted on the wall behind his chair. Sitting down, he reached over to a tea kettle and poured something into an earthenware mug. "Foxglove tea?" he asked, pointing to a second mug.
"No, thank you."
The goblin nodded and took a sip from his mug. "You're a Muggle," he said.
Johanna frowned. "I'm sorry, but I've heard that word used several times in the last few weeks, and I don't quite know what it means."
"Definitely a Muggle," Hookfang said, setting his cup down. "A Muggle is the Ministry of Magic's term for a human without magical ability."
"My father was a wizard," Johanna replied.
"So you're a squib."
"A what?"
"The child of a witch or wizard without any magical ability."
"I suppose I am," Johanna thought for a few moments. "Does magical status matter much in the wizarding world?"
Hookfang snorted, waving a gnarled hand in the air. "Immensely. It's all rot, if you ask mew. The Purebloods think they're hot dragon dung because they're so interbred half of them are insane. They resent the 'Muggleborns' who they say are diluting the wizarding world. Of course, anyone can be gifted with magic, whether their parents are a Malfoy or a butcher from Stoke. But try telling the Purebloods that."
"I see," Johanna said, frowning.
The goblin coughed, reaching for his mug. "I apologize for the tangent. Back to the reason for this meeting: I'll need to collect some information in order to open the account. Your name?"
"Johanna Dahl."
The goblin picked up a quill and began to fill out the form, then stopped, eyes widening. He pushed down so hard the tip of the quill snapped off, splattering red ink (or Johanna hoped it was ink) across the form. "Dahl, you say?"
"Yes."
"Your father, his name was Dahl as well?"
"Rasmus Dahl, yes."
Hookfang stood up quickly, nearly upsetting his tea. "I'll need to get my supervisor. Please wait here."
The goblin went out to the hall and closed the door behind him. Form the frantic sounds echoing from the hall, Johanna guessed that Hookfang had broken into a runner's sprint, rather impressive for one with such short legs.
"How strange," she said.
A few minutes later, Hookfang returned, followed by a fat goblin with a Van Dyke goatee. "Ms. Dahl, my name is Rotgut. I am the manager of your grandfather's estate. May I say that it is an honor to finally meet you. Now we can settle things once and for all."
"Settle what?" Johanna asked.
"Your inheritance, of course."
"How can we be lost?" Hilda moaned, halting in front of the same tavern she'd passed three times. "There are only two ways to go: forward and backward."
She looked around, spotting a shop. "I guess it couldn't hurt to ask for directions," she said. The plaque beside the door read Borgin and Burkes: Antiques and Cursebreakers. She pushed open the door, she walked in, Twig bounding behind.
The shop was dusty and ill-lit, the narrow aisles hemmed in with objects mundane and bizarre. Next to an iron maiden, a man stood talking to the shopkeeper. Hilda recognized him as the tall man who had bumped into her on the street. They were speaking to one another in low voices. Hilda crept closer and listened in.
"Do you have any new poisons in stock, Borgin?" the man asked.
"Unfortunately not, Lucius. The Ministry has been rather strict in cracking down on such sales."
"Hmm, pity. Very well, thank you for your time."
"Just a moment, Lucius. That is quite the unique item you have there. I would pay good money for it, if you are interested."
The man called Lucius tucked something back into his robes. "I'm afraid it's not for sale, Borgin, and if you can forget you ever saw it, I'll give you five galleons for your assistance."
"Make it ten," Borgin said.
Lucius muttered something, but searched his robe pocket, producing a handful of gold coins. "I was never here."
"Of course. We are always discrete in our dealings."
"Father!" a boy spoke up from another aisle. "There's this interesting necklace over here. The sign says its killed several of its prior owners."
"I am well aware of that infernal necklace. Bellatrix tried to give it to Narcissa on our wedding day. Do not touch it."
It was then that Hilda bumped her elbow against a small gong, toppling it off the table and onto the floor with a drawn-out bong! Lucius and Borgin's heads turned towards the aisle. Hilda squeaked and crawled towards the door.
"Do you have a rat infestation, Borgin?"
"If I do, it'll soon be dead. You go that way, we'll surround them."
Hilda looked around frantically for somewhere to hide. Her eyes fell on a tall cabinet. Crawling over to it, she opened the door and crept inside, gently shutting it behind her.
It was only after standing up that she realized the cabinet was already occupied. A hand clapped over her mouth before she could shriek. "Don't make a sound," a boy's voice whispered.
"Found anything, Lucius?" Borgin called out.
"No. The little rat has had a lucky break." There was suddenly a loud shout of surprise and the sound of large objects falling over.
"What is it, Lucius?"
"A deerfox!"
"What, in my store?"
"Draco, grab it!"
"Ow! It bit me."
"Borgin, get the bloody door open!" After a few more loud crashes and swears, the door opened and slammed shut. "How in Merlin's name did that creature get in here? Aren't they only found in Trolheim?"
"The Magical Menagerie must've had a jailbreak. Awfully sorry for the trouble, Lucius."
"No matter. Come, Draco."
"What about my hand?"
"Stop whinging, boy. You're not even bleeding."
Hilda waited, breath held until the front door opened and closed. The hand over her mouth fell away. "Ok, we can go."
Hilda opened the cabinet door and looked out. There was no sign of Borgin. She stepped out and turned. "Coast is clear." They hurried out the door and back onto the street.
The boy looked to be about her age. His black hair was impossibly messy, while his bright green eyes were slightly magnified by a pair of round glasses. Above his nose was a curious scar the shape of a lightning bolt. "What were you doing in there?" she whispered.
"I could ask you the same question," the boy replied, giving a nervous smile.
A bark attracted their attention to a nearby trash bin, around which appeared Twig. "Twig! Good job, boy!" Hilda picked up the deerfox and hugged it to her face.
"What is that?" the boy asked.
"This is Twig, my pet deerfox."
"Wow," the boy said. He held out a hand, only to quickly pull it back. "Can I?"
"Go ahead, he's really friendly. Well, usually."
"Anyone who hates Malfoy must be a friend," the boy said. He scratched Twig between the antlers, eliciting a furious tail wagging.
"Thank you, by the way." She held out her hand. "I'm Hilda."
The boy smiled and shook her hand. "Harry Potter."
Hilda blinked, then realized. "Oh, you're-"
"Yeah," Harry replied, looking rather embarrassed.
"Harry!" a voice called out. A very large man with a great bushy beard stepped out of a doorway and walked over to them.
"Hagrid!" Harry said, relieved. "What are you doing here?"
"Never you mind. What in Merlin's name are you doing here? Knockturn Alley is no place for a child. Full of dark magic"
"I flooed in here by mistake," Harry explained. "I'm sorry, Hagrid."
"Don't be sorry. We can't all do a proper Floo on our first try. I've never liked it meself-have to squeeze myself into the fireplace, it's just uncomfortable. Come with me, did you come here with the Weasleys?" Harry nodded. "I suppose we'll try the bookshop first." He then noticed the girl standing behind Harry. "Oh, hello. Is this a friend of yours, Harry?"
"We've just met," Harry said.
"That's a lovely creature you have there with you, young lady." Twig seemed pleased by the surplus of attention paid to him.
"Well, you two can come with me. Goodness knows I can't just leave you here. My name is Rubeus Hagrid, I'm the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. What's your name?"
The meeting moved to a nearby conference room. Johanna watched, dumbstruck, as Hookfang and Rotgut entered the room carrying a massive lockbox between them, which they placed with a thump before her. "I don't understand. How come I wasn't aware of my father's will?"
Rotgut grimaced. "Unfortunately, when it comes to dealing with Muggles, we have a great deal of difficulty. We had no idea of your whereabouts, certainly not that you were in a different country, so the box has just been here in your father's vault, waiting."
"I see," Johanna said. "Well, then, let's take a look, shall we?"
Rotgut nodded and, producing a key from a ring on his belt, undid the lock and opened the box. Inside were several folded pages of parchment and a worn, leather-bound journal. "Would you like to see the will first?"
Johanna nodded, accepting the stack of parchment and spreading them out on the table. Her eyes scanned the document, struggling to make out the small, intricate script. "Alfur, what do you make of this?"
The elf jumped down onto the table and inspected the document. He whistled. "Well, this is a masterpiece of a document, I assure you. Signed, dated, and witnessed April 3rd, 1970. My compliments to whoever crafted it." Rotgut gave a pleased smirk. "So many clauses! Let me find the one that applies to us. Ah! Here it is. 'If my brothers and sisters are deceased by the time of this reading, then the bulk of my estate, including the contents of my Gringotts vault totalling roughly eighty-thousand galleons-adjusting for today's rate, with 2% interest, golly, that's a lot of gold-I leave to my daughter, Johanna Dahl. Also included are the royalties from my books, any heirlooms included in my vault (i.e., jewels, paintings, stocks), and my diaries.' After that, it lists some additional recipients, including the Paris Museum of Cryptozoology, the Dragon Conservation Fund, and you, Mr. Rotgut!"
"Very kind of him to remember me," the goblin said, looking legitimately moved.
Johanna ran a hand across her head. She had broken into a cold sweat. "I don't know what to say, this is all so overwhelming."
"I dare say the feeling is mutual, Ms. Dahl," Rotgut replied, nodding. "Your father was a very dear friend of the Goblins. He wrote the first book on Goblin history and culture-well, the first book that wasn't full of lies. If you would like, Hookfang and I will leave you for a few moments to collect yourself." He gestured to Hookfang, and the two goblins left.
Johanna shuffled together the will and replaced them in the box, then pulled out the small journal. Flipping through it, an envelope fell from the pages and onto the table. Johanna, it said, written in neat letters. Johanna pulled out the letter and began to read:
My dear, Johanna,
If you are reading this, then my voyage did not go according to plan. I'm sorry for the pain I may have caused you, but this was a trip I couldn't afford to put off any longer. I hope you have grown into a strong woman, and that you and your children have found all the peace and happiness that the wizarding world could not provide at the time of my writing this. You probably have many questions, and I am short of time, the bane of any old man's existence. I hope you do not despise me for my disappearance, but I had to go. I had to try and find Her, one last time…
Flourish and Blotts was packed with people. Thankfully, a half-giant is a good friend to have in a crowd. Hagrid pushed a path through, muttering apologies, while Harry and Hilda followed in the gap left in his wake.
"So you're a half-giant?" Hilda asked.
"Aye, on me mum's side," Hagrid replied.
"I've met a forest giant before, and the last two old giants-they crushed my house accidentally."
"Those are quite bigger than your average European giant. I'd love to ask you about them, but when we have more time. Ah, Arthur! Molly!" He waved a meat pie hand to someone in the crowd.
The two ginger-haired parents from earlier pushed their way through the crowd to Hagrid. "Harry! Thank Merlin you're alright!" Molly Weasley wrapped the boy into a tight hug. "Where on earth did the floo take you?"
"Knockturn Alley," Hagrid answered.
Arthur groaned. "I've been complaining to the Ministry about the dodgy Floo connection between Diagon and Knockturn for years, now. Well, you're safe, Harry, that's all that matters. Ah, and you have a friend!"
"Hello," Hilda said, stepping forwards. "I'm Hilda, and this is Twig. Please, don't compliment him, I think he's getting spoiled." The deerfox gave a disappointed whine.
"Pleased to meet you. You must be another first year. We've had six children in Hogwarts," Molly said, looking a tad proud. "Our daughter, Ginevra will be starting this year as well."
"Exciting, isn't it? I remember my first year. Goodness, thinking about it makes me feel rather old." Arthur chuckled.
"Have you seen my mum?" Hilda asked. "She has brown hair, and is probably whispering to herself—it's a long story."
Molly shook her head. "Can't say we have. Have you, Arthur? No. Do you know where she could be?"
"She was going to the bank."
"Those goblins love their paperwork," Arthur said, "I'm sure she's just held up. You can stick with us until we find her. Come along, we're on the mezzanine. The Grangers are with us, Harry."
"I'd better take my leave," Hagrid said. "Low ceilings make me nervous." Hilda supposed that to him, any ceiling was a low ceiling. "See you at school, Harry. Pleased to meet you, Hilda." He turned and made his way to the door, wincing as his head knocked against the low-hanging sign.
They followed the Weasley's through the crowd and up a narrow stairwell to the balcony, which was considerably less crowded. "Why are there so many people?" Hilda asked, walking to the rail and looking out over the room.
"It's Gilderoy Lockhart, the author," Mr. Weasley explained. "He's doing a book signing. Fortunately, Flourish knows me, and let us watch the show from up here."
"Harry!" Two voices called out. A ginger boy and a girl with long, bushy hair ran over and wrapped Harry in a twin hug.
"Hi, Hermione," Harry said, patting the girl on the back. "I missed you, too."
"Glad you found us," the other boy said. "Ginny's been worried sick." The red-haired girl behind him gave a squeak of fright and ducked behind a bookshelf. "Been driving us mental with her worrying."
"Guys, I'd like you to meet Hilda. She helped me out in Knockturn Alley."
Before they could speak further, the store broke into applause, and they went to the railing to see a man in bright robes jump onto a makeshift stage and give the audience a dazzling smile.
"Thank you, thank you!" the man said, waving as the applause died down. "So glad to see so many fans here today. Have I got a treat for you! Who else is here but the great Harry Potter! He's up in the mezzanine, give the audience a wave, Harry!" Harry blushed and ducked out of sight from the eyes of the crowd, inadvertently coming face-to-face with Ginny. The boy blushed. Gilderoy laughed. "So modest, isn't he? We'll try and get a word out of him after the reading. Well, anyway, on with the show! Who wants to hear about my latest adventure? I would like a lovely young lady to come up to the stage and help me act out my battle with the Amazon Queen of Themyscira..."
"What a blowhard," Ron muttered as Gilderoy Lockhart finally left the bookshop in a crowd of admirers. "I can't believe they picked him to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
"What? Him?" Hilda asked, looking back at the stage in disbelief. "But he knows nothing! Barghests aren't driven mad by the full moon, and Nisse don't steal! He's a fraud."
Hermione frowned. "He wouldn't write lies and sell them as the truth, Hilda."
Hilda huffed and crossed her arms. "I don't care. He's wrong."
"Well, now that the crowd's thinning out we can get out books," Mr. Weasley said, glancing back down at the room below. "Hilda, is that your mother coming through the door now?"
"Mum!" Hilda ran down the stairs. "You're late."
"Sorry, I got held up at the bank. We now have an account for you. Alfur was able to negotiate a good contract."
"I got you an interest rate .5% over the bank average," the elf said, looking somewhat pleased with himself. "You can also withdraw money via owl-post with no transaction fees."
"Hello, you must be Hilda's mother," Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had joined them with Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Grangers and the rest of the Weasley clan following behind. "How do you do? I'm Molly Weasley, and this is my husband, Arthur. The red-haired lot behind me are my children."
"Pleased to meet you," Johanna said, taking the witch's hand. "I'm Johanna Dahl. It's very nice to meet you."
Mr. and Mrs. Granger stepped forward and introduced themselves. "You look as amazed as we do," Mrs. Granger said, laughing. "Are you non-magical?"
"Sort of," Johanna replied. "I suppose I'm a squib, and we live in Trolberg, rather out of the way."
"Trolberg?" Arthur asked. "Ah, so your daughter and her friends are some of the new exchange students? Excellent! I'm so glad you are getting along well here."
"It takes some getting used to," Johanna admitted, "but you know the saying: go with the flow."
"I don't, actually," Arthur said. "Is that a Muggle phrase? You must tell me more about Muggle slang."
"Well, well, if it isn't the Weasleys." The man and boy from Borgin and Burkes stood in the doorway. "How nice to see the family all together. I'm sure you all needed a break from the rat's nest you call a home."
"Lucius," Mr. Weasley said, face tightening. "A pleasure to see you, as always."
"Draco," Harry said.
"Potter," the blond boy replied, scowling. "Have the Weasleys adopted you as one of their own? Just what they need, more mouths to feed."
Lucius put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Draco, save the polite conversation to the adults. Go and get your books." Draco walked off, muttering under his breath."
"We can be civilized, Lucius," Arthur replied. "We're not at work."
Lucius rolled his eyes. "Very well, I'll leave you to it. The bargain bins are that way, Arthur."
"Yes, thank you, Lucius," Arthur replied. "I know," he added under his breath.
Harry watched the Lucius walk away, jaw clenched. "Leave it, Harry," Hermione said, grabbing his hand and guiding him away. "It's not worth the bother."
Hilda turned to her mother. "I saw those two in Knockturn Alley!" she whispered.
"Where?"
"...Uh, doesn't matter."
"Your mother and I saw them at the bank," Alfur said, popping out of Johanna's handbag. "Not the most pleasant of people."
"The Malfoys are rather haughty," Molly Weasley explained. "But very rich, so we have to respect them, however unpleasant it may be."
"Go and collect your, books, Hilda. I'll be here with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley if you need me."
Hilda wandered off, scanning the high bookcases. "Look, this one's about Hogwarts!" she said, opening the book to a painting of the castle and showing it to Twig. "That's gonna be our new home, boy!"
As she stood up to replace the book, someone rounded the corner and collided with her, sending her tumbling to the ground. A hand reached down and pulled her up. "Sorry," Hilda began, then stopped. It was the Malfoy man's son, Draco.
Draco opened his mouth, then stopped. "Well, I mean, it's all right."
"My name is Hilda," she said.
"You're one of Potter's new followers?" the boy asked, his expression returning to one of regal condescension.
"We've only just met, actually."
"Take my advice, you'll never get anywhere at Hogwarts with him."
"I'd like to decide that for myself, but thank you for your opinion."
Twig barked, having caught up to her owner. Draco jumped in surprise, eyes landing on the deerfox. He then looked up at Hilda, eyes wide in shock. "You…"
Hilda grimaced, looking around. "You won't tell, will you?"
Draco calmed down, then peered around the corner, spotting his father by the counter. He was pulling something from his robes and shifting it between his hands, an uncharacteristic look of worry on his face. "No, I won't," Draco promised, internally pondering what on earth made him agree so such a stupid request.
"Thanks," Hilda smiled. "I'm sorry Twig bit you. Is your finger alright?"
The boy rubbed his thumb with his forefinger gently. "It doesn't hurt anymore."
"He won't do it again."
"Well, see that he doesn't," the boy said, then turned on his heel and quickly walked off to rejoin his father.
Hilda shrugged off the encounter and continued browsing. Reaching the nature section, her eye caught a title on a spine: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Intrigued, she pulled the book from the shelf, accidentally pulling the one next to it out and onto the floor, cover flipping open. Bending down to grab the fallen book, she paused as she read it's title page:
Beasts of the Trolheim Wilds
by Newt Scamander & Rasmus Dahl
"Mum!" She picked up the book and ran to find Johanna. "Look! Grandad wrote a book!" she pushed the volume into her mother's hands and pointed to the name on the spine.
Mrs. Weasley leaned over and read the title. "Oh, you're Rasmus Dahl's granddaughter! My son Charlie read your grandfather's guide to dragon handling when he was in Hogwarts. He ended up becoming a dragon handler after graduation, to my deep dismay."
Johanna handed the book back to Hilda and smiled. "I was going to tell you later, but it seems your grandad was quite the celebrity. Go ahead and put it back; the goblins gave me a box of his books when we opened his vault at Gringotts-I'm having them shipped back home."
"Wicked!"
"Did my ears deceive me?" Lucius Malfoy appeared beside Johanna. "Rasmus Dahl's daughter? I never knew he had any children. What year were you at Hogwarts?"
Johanna gave a faint, embarrassed smile. "I never went to Hogwarts. Hilda inherited my father's magical genes-it seemed to have skipped over me."
"I see," Lucius said, smirking. "Explains why Rasmus never mentioned you-it would have been bad for his image to have a squib for a daughter. Don't be upset, it's common practice for Pureblood families to… send their squibs off."
"Shut up!" Hilda piped up, face turning red. "You know nothing about my grandad, and you have no right to insult my mum."
"Really, Lucius!" Arthur Weasley strode across the room, a stack of worn books under one arm. "That is out of line!"
"Typical Arthur, always a friend of Muggledom," Lucius mocked. "You're a shining example of the future of the Purebloods; powerless, feckless, useless, and knutless."
"Leave him alone!" Hilda shouted.
Lucius turned to the girl. "You do not have the right to speak to me in that tone of voice, little girl. Didn't mummy teach you manners?"
"I did, actually," Johanna replied through clenched teeth.
"Can't say the same for your mum," Hilda added.
"How dare you!" Malfoy stepped towards Hilda, cane raised menacingly. "No one gets away with insulting the house of Malfoy," he said, his voice sharp-edged and menacing.
"Malfoy, no!" Arthur dropped his books and went for his wand.
"Stop!" Hilda shut her eyes and screamed. A cold sensation flooding through her chest, traveling down her arms to her clenched fists. Twin orbs of blue light shot from her hands, striking Lucius Malfoy in the chest and sending him flying off his feet. He flew across the room, impacted the wall, and collapsed in a heap on a table of Gilderoy Lockhart's books, dazed senseless.
Hilda opened her eyes, then looked down at her still-smoking hands. "Oh."
"I don't think there's any reason to worry, Miss Dahl." The Auror called to the scene, Kingsley Shacklebolt, flipped his notepad closed and smiled at Hilda. "This is just a straightforward case of underage accidental magic. It's very common, usually caused by intense stress or danger. Completely natural."
"Bah!" Lucius Malfoy limped over, face twisted in anger. His menace was somewhat betrayed by the cotton wads plugging his broken nose. "I want that girl arrested for assault and her wand snapped in half!"
"I haven't got a wand yet," Hilda whispered.
Auror Shacklebolt seemed unimpressed. "Lord Malfoy, we do not punish first-year students for something they haven't even learned to control. If you do insist on pressing charges, I'd love to interview the dozen-or-so witnesses who saw you raising your cane at Miss Dahl and threatening her."
"You wouldn't dare!" Lucius hissed.
"Try me. I'll get Amelia on the floo right away if you'd like."
Lucius scowled, but stepped back, composing himself. "That will not be necessary. Draco!" he shouted. His son's head appeared from behind a cutout of Gilderoy Lockhart's smiling face. "We are leaving." Stepping forward, he stopped as his foot kicked at one of the books Arthur Weasley had dropped. Stooping over, he collected several of them, shoving them into Mr. Weasley's arms. "Enjoy the rest of your shopping, Arthur." he said before storming off.
Alfur, who had watched the entire confrontation quietly from behind Hilda's ear, had been the only one present to notice that Mr. Malfoy had added an extra book to Mr. Weasley's pile.
I am really having a lot of fun writing this story. For the first time in forever, words are just pouring through the keyboard. I hope everyone who has read this far has enjoyed reading it as much as I have working on it. Please follow, favorite, and leave a review!