AN: This chap features the ubiquitous diagon alley shopping trip (unironically one of my fav hp fic tropes) and making new friends, plus some family angst.
also feat. quality early 90s fashions (the padded shoulders, the hair, the bold colours!)
i'm using 'dorothea' when she's acting more like the dursleys raised her - ie, entitled, prideful, jealous, and 'thea' when she acts like her own person or thinks positive things about magic. however its not 100%, so don't read too much into my naming choices in every paragraph lol.
also i use 'wixling' as a diminutive form of wixen, the gender-free plural for witches and wizards (the singular is wix). cos trans rights! (the whole binary gender thing is reductive, colonial (lots of cultures have historically had more than two genders which were overwritten by western colonization) and generally boring). Hogwarts will also be 'Hogwarts School of Magic' rather than 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' for the same reasons.
canon wandlore can suck my dick, except for that one bit about people's wandwoods often matching up with their birth months on the celtic calendar.
_
Thea wakes up fuzzy, her eyes thick with sleep and her head full of cotton wool. Questing hands find the pamphlet and letter on her desk, and she reads through them again. It wasn't a bad dream. She's magic and she's going to Hogwarts, and so is Harry. (Professor Black gave them another welcome packet and Harry's letter before leaving with a sharp comment about how the address of 'The Cupboard under the Stairs' better be a mistake. Mum and Dad grudgingly moved Harry into the guest bedroom and dumped Harry's Hogwarts letter and 'Muggleborn Introductory Packet' on his bedside table.)
⌘
Mum's been quiet ever since Thea got her letter. Dad's unreasonably angry about the whole thing, ranting about 'crackpot old fools who teach magic tricks' when he thinks she can't hear. Dudley is… Well, her twin brother is ignoring her, and has been for the last week (the longest he's ever managed it before). Dudley threw one of his usual tantrums when he learned about the letter, screaming that it wasn't fair, and why wasn't he allowed to go, and then turned sullen and bitter when his wailing changed absolutely nothing.
And Harry is clueless. Thea was forced to explain that this isn't all a practical joke, that it is unfortunately real. Mum and Dad are ignoring Harry even more than usual, and it's not like Harry knows anything. Dorothea doesn't want to turn up with an ignorant cousin in tow, if that's at all avoidable.
"Wicked," Harry had said in awe, as Thea explained.
Ugh. She's reminded why she doesn't talk to Harry - he is a freak. Who wants to go to a gross old castle in the middle of Scotland? To learn freaky magic?
Dorothea, if she had a choice, would much rather be attending St. Winifreds with her friends.
The Saturday of the trip to Diagon Alley dawns grey and clammy. Dorothea scowls half-heartedly at the clouds - while it's nice that the weather reflects her feelings about this whole ordeal, she'd much prefer sunlight and blue skies.
Dudley cooks breakfast, but he's irritable and distracted. The pancakes come out burnt and the bacon is dry and crunchy. Thea drowns her pancakes in maple syrup to hide the taste and tries to eat as quickly as possible.
They're being picked up at nine o'clock, and Dorothea wants to make a good impression. She picks out her clothes for the day with careful precision - the cute t-shirt with the lacy hem, her favourite pink sweater, blue jeans with a daisy embroidered on the pocket, daisy patterned ankle socks and her black leather Mary Janes.
Thea grabs her lovely black leather satchel (an early school gift from Aunt Marge), and slips in her Hogwarts letter, introductory booklet and accumulated pocket money.
Mum was going to come, but something urgent came up at work yesterday that required her immediate attention. Last night involved a lot of screaming and shrill comments about 'protecting their daughter from the freaks'. Dad didn't want to accompany Dorothea, claiming that it was all Petunia's fault in the first place that he had a magical daughter. Dad used magical like it was the worst thing a person could be.
Dorothea doesn't like hearing her parents argue, nor does she like the fearful looks her Mum's been giving her when she thinks Thea is distracted.
⌘
Instead of going with her, Mum coached her on what to say and do, and pressed a stack of twenty pound notes into her hands. It's a lot of money - Dorothea thinks she could buy twice the amount of school supplies that she actually needs with it.
⌘
Dorothea and Harry wait alone on the front step. Dorothea smoothes down her sweater and checks that her bag has everything she needs.
Harry is his usual scruffy self. He's made no attempt to comb his hair, and it falls over his face in messy curls. At least it hides that ugly scar. He's wearing a torn t-shirt, ripped jeans, ratty once-white sneakers and a hideous grey beanie, embroidered with 'Little Whinging Primary' in ugly white stitching.
Harry shivers visibly and rubs his skinny arms.
Dorothea sighs.
"Didn't you grab a coat?"
"Don't have one," Harry mumbles.
Ugh, bloody hell. Well, he's making her family look bad.
"Wait here."
Dorothea ducks back inside. In her room, right at the back of the wardrobe, is a sweater she wants to get rid of, a Christmas gift from some distant Dursley cousin. It's a moth-eaten, dull blue, oversized monstrosity. Thea hates it. She suspects the cousin was just trying to get into her Dad's good graces after his promotion at Grunnings. He failed utterly - Dorothea likes pastel pink and florals, not whatever that thing is.
Now she can pawn it off on Harry, thank God.
Dorothea yanks the sweater off its hanger and bounces down the stairs, already excited at the prospect of buying something else to fill the space in her wardrobe.
"Here." Dorothea tosses the sweater at Harry, smirking to herself when she catches him right in the face.
"And turn your hat inside-out or something."
Harry glares at Thea but does as she says.
It helps - the oversized, ragged clothing begins to look like an aesthetic choice, rather than a fashion crime.
Dorothea concedes that it will have to do, even as she sighs again at the sight.
They resume their silent wait for Professor Black.
⌘
Professor Black 'Apparates' Harry and Dorothea to a side alley in London proper. The twisting and squeezing sensation makes Dorothea feel nauseous, and she turns away to puke in the nearby gutter. Harry looks only a little better off than her, clearly dizzy but not throwing up.
Dorothea resolves to avoid this 'Apparition' as much as possible.
Once they've recovered, Professor Black escorts the pair out of the alley, and then into an equally dingy pub, before Dorothea has a chance to do more than blink in the weak sunlight.
She barely catches a glance at the grimy brick facing, hung with a sign reading 'The Leaky Cauldron'.
Inside the pub, she's relieved to see a group of relatively normal-looking people - parents with kids her age, wearing jeans and regular clothes, not a pointed hat in sight.
The Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, welcomes Thea and Harry, and hands them maps of Diagon Alley.
⌘
The Professors split the crowd into neat groups, directing Harry and Dorothea, why is her life like this, to go with a family of three, the Grangers. The girl, Hermione, has bushy hair and buck teeth, but a cute, if plain-looking, navy blue dress with a white Dorothy collar. Hermione's parents introduce themselves as the Dr.s Granger, or Imogen and "just call me Dan" Duncan. They're perfectly friendly, though they strike Thea as quite strict and serious.
Dorothea trails out the back door with everyone else and watches Professor McGonagall show them how to tap the bricks to get into the Alley.
The first destination is Gringotts, the bank. Run by Goblins, Thea remembers from her information booklet. Weird. But her Dad always says that bankers are important, and that Dorothea and Dudley should always remember to be polite and respectful whenever dealing with them.
"Always kiss up to the people who look after your money," he says.
Gringotts is a huge building, at least five storeys tall, made with shining white marble and an improbable amount of windows. Outside, welcoming patrons, are a pair of Goblins. Thea tries not to stare. The goblins are several feet taller than Dorothea and have soft, wrinkled grey skin, large, dark eyes, and snub noses. They wear layers of padding beneath shimmering chainmail and brightly coloured silk surcoats, decorated with what she assumes is Gringotts' crest. Silver rapiers are visible on their belts, as well as a collection of delicate mechanical instruments which Thea can only guess at the purpose of.
⌘
Inside is an endless expanse of beautifully tiled floor, decorated with moving mosaics that show the day-to-day of bank life - goblins writing in ledgers, goblins meeting with clients, goblins weighing precious stones, goblins crafting jewelry. The bank bustles with activity, goblins in both neat, normal-looking suits and colourful robes that contrast their silver-grey skin, striding purposefully back and forth. An array of doors covers the furthest wall, while to the left a long wooden bench stretches down the hall, where various clerks conduct business with the bank's patrons. To the right, rich tapestries hang from the walls, several joining together to make a massive version of the Gringotts crest, and metal staircases climb towards the skylight high above.
Thea heads for the long desk. She waits politely as the goblin clerk finishes writing something in their ledger, trying not to fidget. Mum coached her on what to say.
And Thea's a little excited for a taste of independence.
"Excuse me, uh, Banker Goblin, sir?"
"Yes, wixling?"
What's a wixling? She wonders, and then puts it aside to figure out later.
"I'd like to set up an account please, sir."
The goblin eyes her.
"Name?"
"Dorothea Aislinn Dursley."
"Sign here, blood here," the goblin points.
Whoah, what? Okay, be polite, be polite.
"Um…? Sorry, that is… uh… Why does the bank need my blood, sir?"
"We can use magic," here the goblin grins, "to link your account with any existing ones you have in the Muggle world."
"I… see." She doesn't, really. How does that even work?
"And it's the ultimate form of security - blood is hard to duplicate" the clerk adds as an afterthought. "I believe non-magical people would refer to it as DNA?"
Well, that's a bit creepy. But Dorothea still needs an account, either way.
"Thank you for explaining, sir."
Thea signs the parchment (with a feather quill, of all things) and pricks her finger with the proffered pin, pressing a bloody thumbprint next to her name. It's messy but legible.
"And your deposit?"
Dorothea hands over her money - some of it from her Mum, to cover the cost of her supplies, and some of her pocket money (she can earn a lot for doing the laundry a few times a week, and unlike Dudley, she prefers to save up and buy lovely clothes or cute new ballet shoes, rather than splurging on candy).
"And will you be wanting some magical money, wixling?"
"Yes please, sir."
The goblin hands her back a heavy leather pouch, which, when Thea opens it, is full of gold, silver and bronze coins. Dudley's gonna be so jealous, she smirks.
"And your name, wixling?"
Dorothea turns to find Harry waiting right beside her. She wishes he would stop hanging around. Can't he go make friends or something?
"Harry Potter. Um, sir."
If the goblin had eyebrows, Thea thinks they would be slowly rising in surprise. Professor Black had mentioned something about Harry's parents being well known, or something, hadn't he? And Mum had angrily proclaimed that 'her damn sister should've provided for her brat if she wanted him to go to some crackpot old school', and had refused to give Harry any money.
"Well. Sign here, blood here."
Harry complies, his writing even messier than Dorothea's.
Thea yelps perfectly in sync with Harry when a shimmer of gold rises up from the parchment. Hers didn't do that!
"Ah yes. Your family already has several accounts with us. And you, specifically, have a trust fund already set up, which should be sufficient for your purposes."
"Wait, what!?" Harry exclaims loudly.
Bloody hell. Dorothea elbows Harry sharply.
"Don't be rude," she hisses.
"My cousin," Dorothea glares at Harry, "would like to know if you're able give us any more information on these accounts, sir?"
"Of course. Though only Harry Potter may have access to this information. You are not permitted"
"Yes sir."
Thea wants to know more, so, so badly. But she isn't foolish enough to cross a goblin within their own bank, especially not when she just signed over her money. And her blood (which, if the occasional fantasy novel she's read in secret has any bearing on actual magic, is really important).
And so Harry is escorted into a side office, looking daunted.
⌘
"What's happening here?"
Dorothea jumps as Professor Black glides up behind her. The Professor's voice is mild, but she can hear the steel in it.
"Harry Potter is accessing more in-depth information about his accounts," answers the clerk briskly, already turning back to their ledger.
That seems to satisfy Professor Black, who turns his attention to Dorothea.
"Everything sorted, Miss. Dursley?"
"Yes, Professor."
"And are you getting along better with Mr. Potter?"
Why does he even care? Dorothea must make a face, because the Professor's eyes narrow.
"A little, sir."
Luckily, Harry emerges, before Professor Black can subject her to a full inquisition.
Harry is loaded down with folders of parchment, all stuffed into a leather folio. Why didn't he bring a bag or something? Dorothea scowls.
Unable to see over the top of the pile, her cousin trips over his own feet and goes sprawling across the beautifully mosaiced floor. Papers fly into the air, fountaining upwards with the force of his fall.
Dorothea smirks at her unfortunate cousin, before remembering she has company and resentfully bending down to grab some of the more far-flung pieces of parchment.
Instead, she watches, stunned, as all the papers swirl up, shuffle themselves neatly in mid-air, and file back into the leather folio.
Professor Black stands next to her, wand raised.
With another swish of his wand, the Professor turns a piece of fluff into an over-the-shoulder bag, which flies over to Harry and carries the folio of its own accord.
Thea stares.
Okay, maybe magic is useful. A little. She's not going to start being best friends with all the freaks, but maybe she can learn some cool stuff and get her parents to chill out.
⌘
Their group spills out onto the street. Dorothea finally manages to dump Harry on the Grangers and escape with her new friend Lily and her family. Lily's mum, Ms. Moon, is a friendly woman with milk-pale skin and shocking violet eyes, and wonderful taste in clothing. She's wearing a plaid crop top and slacks combo and a long coat with padded shoulders in cerulean blue. (it's the 90s!). She's accompanied by a Ms. Mohammed, a chatty woman with rich brown skin and a beautiful silk head scarf printed with colourful peacocks. Ms. Mohammed is a family friend, and apparently someone called a Squib, a normal person born to magical parents, so she's allowed to accompany them into the magical world. (thea they're lesbians).
Lily and Thea are given free reign, Ms. Moon and Ms. Mohammed both happy to observe from a distance, with strict instructions to be at Fortescue's ice cream parlour at one o'clock, where they're supposed to reconnect with the rest of the group.
Shopping is the best part so far. Thea's delighted to discover that Lily has a similar taste in clothing and an equal love for pastel colours. The pair explore the whole street before they make any choices, finding Conjurers Couture, Funky Fresh Fashion Fads, and Ser. Blacks Magical Tailor, Est. 1437, as well as the more mainstream Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, and the high-class Twilfit & Tattings. Thea looks at the tailors sign again as they turn back up the street. Is Black a common last name in the magical world or something?
Lily convinces Thea to stop off at Flourish and Blotts to pick up the basic first year text books first, so they can focus on clothes (Lily spends an extra ten minutes hunting down books on magical theory while Thea waits impatiently). And then Thea's eye is caught by a potions store, with a display of shiny gold cauldrons in the window. She makes conversation with the shop attendant as she examines them, learning that they are a fifth-year Slytherin at Hogwarts, someone called Professor Snape teaches potions there, and that gold is used as a base for more magically powerful potions, and not suitable for first years.
Boring. Dorothea wants a beautiful golden potions set!
She buys a plain pewter one instead, with the accompanying glass phials, scales, and various miscellaneous bits and pieces. Lily spends a long time staring wistfully at a shimmering silver cauldron engraved with complex runes before buying the normal set. The shop attendant sorts them out with simple ingredients kits and tells them to come say hi if they get Sorted into Slytherin.
Then, Thea realises she'll need something larger than her satchel to fit all this stuff, so she and Lily head off to look at school trunks. There are trillions of varieties in the store. All different sizes, covered in leather and dragonhide and troll skin, enchanted to speak or follow you around or come when called. Collapsible wardrobes and entire bookshelves and bathrooms and kitchens fold out of pocket dimensions in trunks engraved with names or charmed to flash in different colours or shrink down to the size of a pin.
Thea chooses a serviceable black trunk, covered in dragonhide (it looks just like normal leather, she hopes her parents won't notice), and designed to weigh exactly ten pounds, no matter what she puts in it. It comes with the default set up - a single bookshelf, a compartment for potions stuff, a specific box for storing craft projects, charmed to prevent damage or wear over time, and another generic storage space. It also costs twenty Galleons, roughly one hundred quid.
Thea ignores that part - she can afford it, and hopefully it'll last her whole schooling career.
Lily goes for a similar trunk, but covered with black leather, with three bookshelves and a built-in filing system. Dorothea absently wonders if this is an indication that her new friend will be Sorted into Ravenclaw, which is apparently the house of the clever and wise.
And then, they can finally look at clothes. Madame Malkin's is advertising a discount for Hogwarts students, so Lily and Dorothea get fitted for their school robes there. Then, they peruse the other stores. Thea stares with longing at a deep purple winter cloak, but it's far out of her price range - three hundred Galleons! Lily nearly buys a bright green jacket before her Mum reminds her that something like that will be cheaper in normal stores. Lily reluctantly puts the jacket back, and instead buys a soft pink scarf, patterned with cherry blossoms, that Dorothea looks at with envy.
Thea decides she wants a regular wardrobe as well as her school robes - it'll be easier if she can blend in with her magical classmates at school - she doesn't want to be the one looking like a freak while away at school for a whole year. Thank God for her Mums' over preparedness - Dorothea has more than enough money to update her wardrobe and still buy all her school supplies.
Thea picks up a couple of everyday robes in soft, muted colours - burgundy, dark gold, forest green, and deep pink - cute socks with patterns that move, and a white alice headband charmed to keep her hair neat. Dorothea refuses to dress in dull black robes all the time. Thinking ahead to winter, Thea also gleefully scoops up a pale mint green sweater, patterned with flowers that grow and change before her eyes, and plainer, unenchanted one in red. Maybe magic is alright sometimes.
⌘
Just before lunch, they get their wands from Ollivanders. Thea's is "oak and unicorn hair, ten inches, good for basics", while Lily's is "ash and phoenix feather, eleven and a quarter inches, nice and flexible". Mr Ollivander is old and creepy, his skin weathered like ancient paper. Dorothea barely maintains her expression of polite interest as he lectures them on wand lore and proper wand care, though she does buy a polishing kit and wrist holster.
Eager to escape, Lily pulls a 'look at the time, we must be getting to lunch', and the pair race off down the street, while Ms. Moon and Ms. Mohammed follow at a more sedate pace. Thea and Lily claim seats next to each other at a huge outdoor table with the rest of their group, and quickly order lunch. Hermione is sitting on Dorothea's right, with Harry next to her. On Lily's left is a boy Thea doesn't know, Dean Thomas.
For lunch, Thea chooses a bacon and egg pie, then follows up with a double scoop of 'Hogwarts Delight', which turns out to be a cardamom and vanilla ice cream swirled through with the Hogwarts House colours and tiny chocolate House symbols. Thea gleefully bites the head off a tiny, roaring, white chocolate lion and wishes she could bring some home for Dudley, even if he is ignoring her.
⌘
After lunch, they're all forced together again and given a formal tour, with a bunch of boring educational facts about the buildings and a lecture on the history of magical Britain. A couple of the parents team up to get all the school supplies that've been forgotten, accompanied by Professor Black. Imogen Granger is nice enough to grab Thea's telescope and a pair of dragon-hide gloves in a lovely iridescent white. Thea thanks her profusely, revising her earlier opinion of the Grangers as rule-abiding bores. Hermione is friendly and likeable, if over-eager, and her parents are perfectly nice.
As the other kids leave with their parents, Professor Black shows Harry and Dorothea how to catch the Knight Bus and escorts them home. It's a little wild but much better than Apparition.
When Dorothea and Harry arrive home, Dorothea is fussed over and given cake for dessert after her ordeal with the freaks.
Harry is locked in his new bedroom with a bottle of water and some bread and cheese. Thea wonders how long she has before her parents' fear of magic overcomes their love for her. But they wouldn't do that, right? Her Mum and Dad love her.
But do they love her or what Dorothea represents as their golden girl-child, with her ballet and pink dresses and good grades, a little voice whispers in the back of her mind. Thea purposefully shuts it out and does her daily stretches, trying to shake off the feelings of unease.
The rest of the holidays continue almost like normal. Dorothea spends as much time out of the house as possible, playing with Rose and Sarita and her other friends, attending her ballet and piano lessons, and even hanging out at the park with Harry once or twice.
A birthday gift from Aunt Marge, a ballet camp in south England run by the English National Ballet company, offers Thea a blissful two weeks of freedom, an opportunity to forget about her newly-discovered freakishness. It's a relief to be away from her family for a while, with her Mum cleaning everything in sight as if she can scrub away Thea's magic and Dad barely speaking. She returns to find that Harry had tagged along on Dudley's trip to the zoo and is confined to his room for somehow letting a boa constrictor out of its enclosure. Dudley continues to ignore her.
Apart from that, Thea shuts herself in her room. She skims through her magical school books and then distracts herself with something normal, knitting, practicing her scales or doing her ballet exercises.
She writes letters to Lily and Hermione and a few others, and she tries to pretend that her life isn't crumbling because of that stupid letter, with its strange green ink and pretentious wax seal. That her world isn't slowly falling apart because of Professor Black's visit and the revelation of her magic.
end notes:
so yes, ms moon and ms mohammed are totally bisexual wlw in a commited relationship, (mr moon is out of the picture). dorothea doesn't notice because period-typical homophobia means they're being subtle + she has no frame of reference for adult women having romantic/sexual relationships with other women.
especially w/ the shopping trip part, i'm trying to establish that dorothea's pride/vanity and love of the aesthetic ™ easily overrides her dislike of magic. she's already big on fashion and clothes, and most of the desire to appear normal is her parents influence cos she's literally eleven. also, her desire to blend in is causing her to embrace magical fashion and begin to accept other parts of magical society.
like yeah, sure, thea was raised by vernon and petunia, but what small child doesn't want to go to magic school! (some of them, i guess, but that's not the point lmao)
also im not british, so my prices are probably a bit wonky - i have no idea how pounds work, realism is dead.
im alternately capitalizing Goblins when i'm referring to the whole species, and using lowercase 'goblins' to talk about individual people.
im trying to construct my own goblin culture/society with liberal application of headcanon, bcs rowling's canon goblins are a bunch of shallow anti-Jewish sterotypes.
so:
Goblins have very ritualised codes of behaviour. they operate on a social system of, like, respect and honour, and keeping one's promises. their hierarchy is built almost entirely on personal merit, so even if your parents are hot shit, you have to prove yourself to your community before you can get that sweet sweet validation.
by magical (wizarding) law they're forbidden from carrying wands. but who cares? not the goblins. they wield Western European-style basket-hilt rapiers and daggers which they can use to channel their magic (partial credit to robsts fic 'Harry Crow' for this), and have a lot of stuff based in runes and sigils which are drawn out and then charged up, rather than instant one-the-spot energy manipulation like wixen do. plus they're epic engineers, architects, mechanics, etc. so they can just build a whole lot of complex machinery to help them live their lives.
they have basically no sexual dimorphism, which helpfully means that non-Goblins can't discern a goblin's gender, and they don't have entrenched gender roles, and really don't care about what gender the magical world thinks they are. They tend to use non-gendered terms when talking to non-Goblins (e.g, calling Thea 'wixling') , but not always.
that's about it so far, lemme know what you think! leave a comment below, send a coded message in the wind currents, send a tumblr ask, put a message in a bottle, dm me, whatever!