Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or the characters. This is pure fan-fiction and not for publication or profit.

TW: As this is a story about the injustice of prejudice and discrimination, there may be behavior by some of the characters that can be upsetting. Nothing is meant to be offensive or slanderous. Please feel free to reach out with any comments/concerns via PM if anything needs to be revisited in the story.

Canon and Not: I try to stay true to the timeline of all characters but have taken creative liberties in areas we don't have details on, like ages of students, their relationships to each other, or their physical appearance. I also have Gender-bent Lycoris black to a male role instead of female so that the relationship between Lycoris and Fleamont can better parallel the Snape/James and Malfoy/Harry roles. Ancestral characters have been created based on Harry Potter canon characters.

Chapter 1: Through Rose Colored Glasses

If all the world were paper

and all the seas were ink

I'd write a great big note to you

to tell you what I think...

Summer 1919

The year was 1919 and the turn of a decade was only four months away as the summer air turned to an autumn breeze, much to the relief of everyone in Diagon Alley. It was as busy as always with Hogwarts students bustling about to collect items from their school shopping list. One of the lucky wizards ready to board the train to Hogwarts, had to first pick up his supplies as well. He impatiently waited in a long line outside of Madame Pickett's Robe shop, pulling his hand away only for his mother to snatch it up once more.

"Fleamont," she snapped, "Will you please stand still."

"But these knickers itch! And must I wear the wool stockings? The weather has only just turned!"

"I won't have you catching a cold right before school."

"Can I at least take off my hat?" He begged but she just shook her head.

Fleamont Potter groaned and used his free hand to yank at his plaid vest and tie that his mother had insisted he wear. 'We must look our best' she had insisted. "Must we stand in the queue? We won't make it in time for the exhibit at the Victoria and Albert museum! They've got muggle inventions there from the World's Fair. I've waited two years for them to arrive in London."

"I told you we needed to get here earlier but you wouldn't get out of bed."

"But it's Saturday, mum." He groaned. "We are supposed to sleep in on Saturdays."

"Not when you board the train to school in a week! Damn that Owl Post. You'd think after centuries of service they would have a better system of getting Owls out to the countryside in a timely manner. I'm starting to think the muggles are onto something with this telephone they've invented."

A few mothers behind her in the queue mumbled to one another at her remark but she just held her head high and dragged her son forward, ignoring them. Mrs. Potter had the appearance of a harsh woman but it couldn't be farther from who she really was. Truly, she was very kind, but firm. She knew the proper way to run her household and had high standards for her son as he entered school.

Finally it was their turn to enter the shop and she sat patiently in the window bench, her handbag in her purse, looking straight ahead as the women from the queue whispered to one another about her.

"Next!" Came the voice of Madame Pickett who stumbled-out of of the back room with handfuls of robes in her hands. She was a very tall woman in an elaborate, somewhat impractical dress, and glasses so narrow that she had to squint to see through them which seemed counterproductive to Fleamont. She spotted the boy as he darted his hand into the air. "Yes yes. Another first year in need of his robes? Wonderful. Right this way-"

But as Fleamont strode forward, two boys elbowed past on either side of him. Both were thin and pale, one a little older than Fleamont and the other much older than the two. They could be mistaken for twins if not for their age and both wore simple black suits and knickers with silk scarves and tiepins engraved with a family crest.

"Oh!" Madame Pickett exclaimed. "My favorite customers! Right this way. Right this way!" She waived them into the room and left Fleamont standing there in shock.

"How, bloody rude! Those two cut the entire line!" He was about to turn to his mother to tattle on them, when he shook his head. He knew she'd go in there and make a fuss and he didn't have time for that. The museum would be closing soon and he just had to see it. Fleamont took a deep breath and barged into the back room where the eldest boy was already on a pedestal, admiring himself in the mirror.

"Can I help you," Madame Pickett asked, staring over the brim of her glasses.

"I... well. I was next."

"So you were," she sighed. She reached down to her belt, from which dangled scissors, a pin cushion, a magnifying glass and a small bell and raised the later, giving it a ring."

From the back room came a young girl, Fleamont's age. She had on a pale pink work dress and crisp white pinafore. "Madame?" She said.

"I need some help, my dear. I'll get what is needed for the first year if you can get started with this young man. You remember him from last year?"

"Yes," the younger girl grunted. "Him, I remember." She picked up a sewing box from the side table as Madame Pickett fussed over Fleamont hurridly as if to rush him out the door as fast as she could. She carefully pinned in his robe, constantly pricking him with pins and saying, "hold still" each time he moved. Finally she sighed and shook her head. "So short. We may have to size down. Let me get you an order form for the dwarf sizes."

"What?!" Fleamont said but coudn't stop the woman as she exited. He looked over at the two boys who were snickering at him.

The sewing assistant was getting everything she needed then glanced up at the fancy dressed boy on the pedestal. "Here to let a hem out, sir?"

The boys snickered more at each other and young Fleamont puffed out his chest, "I don't think she meant it as a joke. Or are you two just that dimwitted that you don't know how proper conversation works?"

The room fell silent and the tall boy strut over to Fleamont. "Do you have any idea who the hell I am, peasant?"

"Peasant?!" Fleamont roared. "You don't know who I am! I could have more power than you and you'd not know it."

"Doubtful," the boy grunted and drew his wand, "I bet you don't even have one of these yet."

"W-well of course not. But I'm going to pick mine up, same as everyone when they turn my age."

"See. That's where you and I differ. I got this wand when I was 10 and practice magic every single day since. Like this." He flicked his wand and muttered, "Levicorpus."

Fleamont rose from the ground, clawing at the air and shouting pathetically, "What are you doing?!"

"Leave him alone, Black!" The young girl said and ran to grab the boy named 'Black' by the arm.

He shoved her off with a look of disgust and allowed Fleamont to fall to the ground with a thud.

"How dare you touch me you dirty faced maid. How dare you address me at all. No," he snapped as she stumbled back, "I don't need my hem taken out like a boy who can't afford new robes. I'll be trying on the custom robe my mother sent for a week ago, trimmed with green and lined on the lapel so that my Prefect badge doesn't fall off constantly. Now go get it! And while you're back there, gather some better robes for my brother than this filth." He kicked over her workbench of robes and she inhaled sharply as all her thread and pins fell all over the floor.

"You... you..." she looked as though she was going to say something but held her tongue as she disregarded his requests and instead, helped Fleamont up of the floor.

"You've done it now," groaned Fleamont. "You used magic outside of Hogwarts. You'll be expelled for sure."

Both Black brothers burst out laughing, "Do you hear that, Regulus?" the eldest called. "The Headmaster is going to expel us!"

"I heard him, Lycoris," the younger replied as his brother strut up to Fleamont and leaned into his face. "Now I know you're a nobody. My grandfather is the headmaster, you pathetic child. You'd know that if your family had any status in this world."

"W-we do have status!" Fleamont called. "My father is on the Wizengamot! He works directly with the Minister of Magic! We are a Pureblood family just like you. And... and we are rich! Fabulously rich! Why... I'm so rich that... that I already have ten robes at home. I just wanted to get one more in case the other's soiled."

The black brothers didn't seem quite convinced. Still, Lycoris pocketed his wand and nodded to the girl beside Fleamont. "Well if that's so. Then I suggest you spend less time with the likes of her. Even the muggles steer clear of her kind. You'd be wise to do the same."

"If it's wise to steer clear of the wrong kind of people, then I suggest you get away from me." He smiled sweetly and added, "please, Licorice."

Lycoris bristled and darted his eyes to his brother who let out a reluctant snicker at the nickname. He looked back to the girl who still held onto Fleamont's arm but just let out a "humph".

Madame Pickett walked in and gasped at the mess. "Good Godric! What Poltergeist tore through my shop!"

"It was 'the help' who did it," Regulus said. "Can't find good ones anywhere."

Madame Pickett looked shocked at her assistant who just said, "It was an accident."

"Oh..." Madame Picket sensed the tention in the room and handed the boxes to the eldest Black boy, "There you are Mr. Black. Just as ordered. Please give my regards to your family." She then looked to Fleamont and began to hand him an order form but Regulus snatched it.

"No need," he said as he pocketed the paper. "This lad just finished telling us he has ten robes at home and he doesn't even need a new one. Isn't that right, four-eyes?"

Madame Pickett cleared her throat, displeased with the attitudes she was experiencing. "If there is no furthur business to conduct then I suggest you boys all go on your way and that you my dear-" she turned to her assistant.

"I'll clean up the mess, Madame."

"Good," she nodded and moved to the main shop to greet more customers.

Lycoris nodded to his brothers. "Let's go. You! Talk to me like that again or I'll have your job."

"You can take it," she clapped back and Fleamont's eyes opened widely at her confidence. "I'll be finished here next week. Or did you think they don't allow robe-makers assistants into Hogwarts too?"

"Not the words I would use to describe you," he grumbled then pushed past them both, his younger brother just laughing at them and added, "kids," with a scoff.

"That was brilliant," Fleamont said in awe once they were alone. "I'm so sorry they treated you like that though. My family may be purebloods but we don't buy into that nonsense against muggle-borns."

"Oh. Well I'm glad to hear it, but that isn't why Black teases me. I'm a pureblood too." She said then went to gather the items from the floor.

Fleamont, confused, crouched beside her to help. "But... if you're a pureblood then..."

"Then why do I work here?" She looked up at him. "I wouldn't expect you to know this, being fabulously wealthy as you are, but bloodline alone doesn't always spare you from the world's injustices."

Fleamont just blinked at her eloquence. He was captivated by her charm and maturity, not to mention her beauty.

"For example," she continued, "You're a pureblood and rich. Do you still get teased for your glasses?"

"Of course." he grumbled.

"Because the world is small minded. Glasses don't exclude you from opportunities. You can take them off. The thing that Lycoris teases me about isn't something I can just... take off."

"Is.. is it..." he was scared to assume but the curiousity got the better of him. "Is it because you're... I mean... your skin..."

"Because I'm not white," she confirmed. "As simple as that. Silly isn't it?" She shrugged to hide the fact that the topic still stung.

"I'm so sorry... that you're teased, I mean."

"It's not just, Black. Like he said, even the muggles treat us all differently. My father was rejected from so many opportunities in life because of something so simple as the color of his skin. The saddest bit is that he is so innovative. He creates things. And the world will never know. The entire world, magic and muggle, will never know the talents and inventions that have been ignored or rejected because they couldn't see past..." she got a bit choked up and stopped.

"A pair of glasses?" Fleamont added to try and soften the gravity of the conversation.

"Exactly," she smiled back to him.

"Your Dad likes inventors then?" He stood up and handed her the spools of thread and bobbins from the ground that he collected and she walked them over to her sewing box.

"Mhmm. He used to make all sorts of gadgets. Once he invented a quill that could quiz you. It would write a question down and you'd have to write the answer back. Hogwarts rejected the idea though because... well, you heard who's grandfather is in charge." She sighed. "And then when mum died he took a job here designing fabrics for Madame Maulkin and sourcing materials and she lets me help during busy season. 'The world needs more women at work' she always says."

"You're incredible..." Fleamont sighed out.

"What?"

"You're incredibly lucky!" Fleamont quickly corrected. "To get to have a job so young. Must be nice to have all that money to yourself."

"Right..." She said with an uncomfortable smile at his nievety but she knew he meant no offense. "Well I should take your robe and get it to Madame. And don't worry about the size. I can get it sorted for you."

"Oh, of course!" He said and pulled it off gently to not upset the pin work she'd done. "I can't wait to wear it. And I can't wait to go to school with you. That is, if you don't mind spending time with someone with glasses."

"Of course I don't."

"Good. I'm glad." He turned a bit pink. "Well... I'll save you a seat on the train then?"

"That would be nice."

"Grand. Until then." They stared at each other a long while before Fleamont awkwardly said, "Well, bye!" and darted out.

The girl didn't move, keeping an eye on the door until Fleamont ran back in as she expected. He opened his mouth but she just said, "Euphemia. My name is Euphemia."

"Euphemia. I'm..." he stopped himself. "Well, you can just call me Potter."

"Potter. I'll see you next week."