Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All throughout the country, Wizards were celebrating.

And how could they not? The Dark Lord, the one whom all childishly refuse to name, was dead, killed by a mere baby. It was like a fairytale, complete with a happy ending. 

There was one who did not join in with the celebrations however, although she did welcome it, for it made her pursuers blind and dumb.

Alice Margatroid walked through the streets of one of London's many suburbs, just soaking it in.

Her ticket was in her pocket, her ferry later this morning. This may be the last time she ever sets foot in this city in a long time, maybe forever.

She watched as the mundane city awoke, joggers hopping out the door, papers delivered, early risers rising, tired faces, dogs barking, cats prowling, life living. She took it in as only an artist who worked in the shapes of people could. Soon she would depart this country, and see new people, and new shapes, so she made the most of this experience, and drank in the people of this old city as much as she could.

But while walking through a particularly quiet part of town, her peace was disturbed by a shrill shriek. Turning her head she saw a woman on the doorstep, staring down at what could only be a basket. Alice's sharp eyes could pick out movement, a child in a basket? Curiosity peaked, she walked closer.

A man came to the door, presumably the woman's husband, and Alice could only frown. To the dollmaker's eyes they seemed ugly, common people, not the kind of person Alice would willingly associate with on a good day, or even now, had not the fairytale allure of the child in the basket drawn her in.

The couple did not notice her, as she did not want them to, so they talked as if they were alone.

“... and it says we have to look after her Vernon.” the woman said, her hand shaking, face pale.

“Of all the- I don’t know if it’s our problem they got killed. You haven’t talked to your sister in years, what makes that lot think they can just dump her baby on our doorstep and expect us to deal with... ‘it’. Surely one of their lot could do it better.” The man however was indignant, and Alice found herself disliking him already.

“But what else can we do? You know what their kind are like, who knows what they will do to us if we don’t take it in.” The woman fretted, proving herself not that much better than her husband, not a word of care for the baby that was apparently her sister's child.

“So it is true then, when you are ugly on the inside it starts to show on your face.” Mused Alice as the couple bickered back and forth. Not that she couldn’t work out what was going on, this reeked of wizard tomfoolery.

“So we are just supposed to take the little creature into our home?” the man said, looking angry. “To feed off our hard work until it’s old enough to go to freak school?”

“I don’t know what else we can do dear.” the woman said, looking considerably upset.

Alice looked at the bundle before feeling for magic in the area. She felt it thick in the air, the numerous wards surrounding the house, all keyed into the moment that child crosses the threshold. It was actually quite impressive, once in, no one could ever hope to find the child in that house. No matter how hard they looked, nor could anyone who meant it harm even enter the yard. Safe, at least from the outside.

“Surely there is someone we can complain to? I do not want that thing in my house!” The man was starting to raise his voice.

It couldn’t protect it from those inside the house though.

Alice supposed it wasn’t her business, someone had clearly gone through great pains to hide this child here, and the situation is probably more complicated than it appears. But at the same time could she really in good conscience leave this child to what was most probably a life of neglect and abuse?

“Maybe we shouldn’t keep discussing it out here, the neighbours might be out any minute. Maybe we should take it inside…”

No, Alice decided. No she could not.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Alice said, making herself known to the couple.

“Wha- who are you!” The man was immediately on the defensive, her sudden appearance had caught him off guard, but Alice had no time for tact.

“My name is Alice, I am no one in particular, just a concerned passerby. But back to my point, do not take that baby inside with you, if you do, it will be your responsibility until it grows up.”

“What do you mean?” the man's brows furrowed, probably wondering if this was some sort of law he did not know about.

“There are wards surrounding your house. If you take the child indoors, they will activate, and then you would not be able to get rid of it without letting whoever made them know.” Alice said, no point in beating about the bush.

“What? of all the underhanded-!” The man barked in indignation, before suddenly he narrowed his eyes. “Are you one of their lot then?”

“I should think not.” Alice scowled. “While I have experience in past dealings, I do not willingly associate unless I am forced.”

This seemed to lower the man's heckels somewhat, but he still seemed guarded. “So what do you do then?”

Alice smiled. “I am a dollmaker by trade.”

The man seemed to mull this over, before probably deciding that a dollmaker was at least a semi-respectable profession. “So, if we bring it into the house, we are stuck with it? What do you say we do with it then?”

“Well, if you truly do not want it… let me take it.” Alice said. “I am quite fond of children, and will look after them properly. You will never have to see it again.”

The man seemed to consider it. But it was then that the woman interjected. “N-now listen here. I have no clue who you are, why should we trust a random passerby with a child?”

Alice cocked her head. “Does it matter? You clearly don’t want nor care for the child, so why should it matter to you if it's safe?”

“W-well it's the principle of the thing.” the woman said weakly.

‘Interesting,’ thought Alice, ‘was this a shred of conscience, some responsibility for her sister’s spawn, or merely fear from reprisal from the wizarding community?’

Regardless, Alice didn’t have time for lengthy negotiations as she had the cross channel ferry to catch. So with a roll of her eyes, She said. “I don’t have time for this.” And with a jerk of her hands, the basket lifted off the porch and into her waiting hands, to dual cries of alarm from the couple.

“Wha, I thought you said you weren’t one of their lot!” Vernon said, once more indignant.

“I never said I couldn’t do magic, just that I didn’t willingly associate with the rest.” Alice said, which was true, Alice doesn’t lie after all. She took a small cloth doll out of her pocket and waved it in front of the distressed child, calming it down somewhat.

Putting the doll in the baby's arms, Alice turned to leave, only for the woman to call out “N-now where are you going?”

“Away, I decided to take the decision out of your hands, be thankful, for I have given you an excuse should anyone come looking.” Alice said, not bothering to turn back around. “Is there a problem?”

“Now look here!” The man said, advancing on Alice.

Suddenly, the air was filled with dolls, brandishing weapons, a hundred tiny Alice's all staring down at him with glass eyed menace, causing him to shrink back in fear.

“I repeat myself. Is, there, a, problem ?” Alice said

There was only silence. “I didn’t think so.”

Alice left, her dolls following behind her, one by one disappearing into the air. Unseen, but not gone.

Privet Drive was peaceful once more, with the exception of a certain Mrs Dersley fainting. And a Mr Dersley adding Dollmakers to his list of non respectable professions.

Alice sat in the lounge area of the cross channel ferry as it pulled out of harbour, staring out over the city, and pondering the string of impulsive decisions that lead to her now cradling a baby girl in her arms.

Probably not her best decision making in hindsight, after all, she knows nothing about raising a child, and she wasn’t particularly blessed with good role models in that regard... Not to mention that she is technically a fugitive.

The child stirred in her blanket, still clutching the doll she had been given.

Alice looked down and smiled. Oh well, she’ll make it work somehow.

Then she frowned. “I never did get your name, did I?” she murmured to herself.

Alice looked out the window again. She supposed that meant she had to think of one herself. But she’s honestly quite rubbish with names, indeed, she named all her dolls after…

She stared at the city out the window, then mused. “I suppose… London is as good a name as any.”

The baby giggled in her sleep, and Alice took it as a good sign.

“I do hope we will get along, London.” she said, fondly stroking the child's hair.

Her smile morphed into another frown. “Now if only I could do something about that nasty scar…”

The Newly Christened London Margatroid slept on.

Chapter Text

London Margatroid was awoken from her slumber by a gentle shaking delivered by tiny hands on her shoulder. With a murmur she lifted herself from the mattress and reached for her glasses on her bedside table.

The world swam into focus, including the Shanghai doll that had woken her up. The doll gently took her hand and tugged at it, telling her that it was time to get up.

“Ok, ok…” grumbled London, lifting the covers, and swinging her legs out of bed.

She let the doll lead her over to her dresser, where her mama had no doubt laid out her outfit for the day. Behind her two other dolls quickly and efficiently made the bed.

As she stripped herself out of her pyjamas and handed them to a waiting doll to be washed, she mused that when she was little, she used to think that she had hundreds of little mama’s and one big one.

Now she was older, a bright six years old, she understood that she only had one mother, who just happened to have hundreds of little bodies.

Having gotten dressed with precision born from both care and repetition, she stepped in front of her full body mirror and, ignoring her bird's nest of hair and her ‘imperfection’, she examined herself critically.

To any who know of Alice, one would say her dress would be familiar, but for a few differences. Instead of baby blue, her dress was a deep magenta to compliment her eyes, and what would have been red ribbon, were forest green to help balance her outfit.

Fitting that the child of the seven colour magician be taught colour theory.

With a small pout of annoyance, and despite her best efforts, she noticed a doll fixing her crooked ribbons. One day she’ll get them all right by herself.

As she did a little twirl, she heard footsteps coming upstairs. Knowing what was coming, she dutifully walked over to the dresser and sat down.

“Good morning London, sleep well?” said Alice, stepping into the room.

“Quite well mama, in fact I was having quite a nice dream until you woke me up.” London said, pouting in her direction.

Alice chuckled as she crossed the room. “Keeping up a regular sleep schedule is good for you, You’ll thank me when you are older.”

She then picked up a comb and stepped behind London. “Now face forward please. The sooner we start, the sooner we can finish.”

London did as instructed, and Alice started the long arduous process of taming London's persistently scruffy hair. It was tedious, but London had long picked up and shared Alice's dislike for its untidiness. So she looked ahead patiently as Alice, using a combination of combs, bobby pins, some moisture and several hair products, got London's hair as straight as it could be without spending over half an hour, and doing some prep the night before.

Alice was constantly amazed by the sheer amount of patience London had, it was almost superhuman.

Finally, tying a magenta ribbon in her hair instead of a hairband, Alice surveyed her work. It was still a little scruffy, and when she was older Alice fully intended to try some other methods of hair control, but for now, it will do.

“Very well, face this way now please.” Alice instructed.

London turned to face Alice, as she picked up a jar of primer. With practised motion, she applied it over London's little imperfection, and then covered it up with some colour corrector, foundation and concealer, and lightly powdered it.

“There we are, all ready to face the day.” Alice said, patting London on the head, gently, so as not to undo her efforts until this point.

London smiled, she felt better all ready. “Thanks mama.”

Alice smiled back. “Always happy to help you look your best dear. Now come on, breakfast will be ready soon.”

London nodded, stood, and happily trotted after her mother out of the room.

Such was the typical morning in the Margatroid household.

After a hearty english breakfast eaten together, London was left to her own devices as she played outside in the french countryside, with a few dolls to act as playmates and bodyguards. While Alice was carving some new doll bits in her workshop.

At least that's what her body was doing, her mind was more focused on London's future, mainly her future schooling.

“She is at that age now…” Alice thought out loud.

In truth, London should have already started school this year, but Alice's unusual living situation had prevented this.

She wondered if it was possible to enroll her in a local primary school, the girl spoke french well enough, so it wouldn’t be hard, and as much as she disliked doing it, a little bit of wizard tomfoolery would be good enough to keep people asking too many questions about who she was.

“But for how long?” Alice mumbled to herself.

The biggest problem about sending London to school, apart from removing her from Alice's protective net, was that she had no idea about how temporary this home was. She had been lucky these past six years, but last week, two men had stumbled onto her lawn, while herself and London had been having a tea party on the grass. While it turned out they had just been some lost mundane backpackers, it had been sufficiently jarring to remind her that all it would take was a single simple accident like that, before the magical authorities would cotton on that she wasn’t in England anymore. And she would have to uproot and move.

With that in consideration, would it be wise to let London set down too many roots, when she could have to abandon them at the drop of a hat?

“It's tough being a single parent while also being a fugitive.” Alice said, to no one in particular.

It is worth noting that Alice, as many loners do, have a habit of talking to herself.

Any further musings were halted when she heard the sound of an explosion outside. Her body was already running out the door before her brain realised what that meant.

London was playing hide and seek, a game she liked to think she was very good at. She was currently being seeked by the dolls, and she giggled from her hiding place under a bush as she watched Alice's dolls march around checking behind trees.

It wasn’t until she was much older that she would find out that the artificial playmates knew exactly where she is, and are simply programmed to fake search for a semi-random duration to make her believe otherwise. It had hurt London's pride quite a bit to learn that.

For now though, she revelled in being the hide and seek queen.

But such thoughts were interrupted when she heard voices some distance away, getting closer.

Game of hide and seek put on hold, she stood up, and said, “People are coming, hide!”

The dolls immediately ceased faux searching, and disappeared into the surrounding foliage.

‘ I wonder why they are better at hiding when we are not playing hide and seek? ’ London thought briefly, before shaking her head of the errant thought and focusing on the task at hand.

Creeping forward with what she thought were her excellent sneaking skills, she went toward the source of the voices, and peering around a tree, found two oddly dressed men holding sticks who seemed to be poking around.

In french, one said. “Do you think she really is here? I mean, this is a long way from England.”

“What better place to hide from the British authorities?” it doesn’t take much effort to cross the channel, and France is a big place, plenty of space to cross without being noticed, she’s good at that I hear.” The second added.

“That's not all she’s good at,” The first added darkly. “Seventeen British Aurors died by her hand alone.”

The second scoffed. “Oh please, even if the figures were correct, They probably didn’t put up much of a fight. There was a war on, they were probably calling anyone who could hold a wand right way round an Auror by that point, and they were hardly going to send their best men after a Hogwarts dropout who likes puppets, when there was an actual dark lord on the loose.”

“Still, no need to be careless, no?” The first said.

“She probably isn’t even here, it was just one eye witness who saw someone who might be her. We’ll probably just find some spinster with a passing resemblance.” The second said, “Besides, it's not as if we are alone.”

It was then that someone grabbed Hailey from behind. “Hey look, I found-”

But what the until then unseen third person had found would have to remain a mystery as a loud metallic clang could be heard as a Shanghai Doll brought its kite shield down heavily on his head.

Not that London saw, as she had already started running away the moment his grip had loosened.

The Man staggered, clutching his head, and cursing under his breath, and went to stun the girl with his wand, but his aim went wide as another doll latched onto his arm.

He tried to dislodge the doll, only to go pale at the sound of a very short fuse being lit.

London didn’t turn around as there was a detonation behind her and Alice's kill count went up by one. She reached the front lawn of the cottage just as Alice was stepping out the front door.

“There are strange men in the woods, one tried to grab me!” London cried in distress as she cannoned into Alice.

Alice embraced her and patted her back comfortingly. “There there… it will be alright. I’ll go deal with them.”

London looked up at Alice, still scared, but also a little curious. “What are you going to do?”

Alice smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “... Go inside dear, and close the curtains. There are some things young girls shouldn’t see.”

London, more than a little spooked, did as she was told, stepping past Alice, and after one last look at her mother, closed the door behind her, a few seconds later, the curtains twitched closed.

Alice sighed, before crossing her hands in front of her chest, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She tensed her fingers, and suddenly the air was full of dolls, and when she opened her eyes, they were full of steel.

“Let's tidy up, shall we?”

Alice got to work.

London sat, nervously twiddling her thumbs as she waited in the sitting room, curtains closed. It had been quiet outside for quite a while now, and she was beginning to worry.

But before her patience could be worn down fully, the door opened. London turned in her seat, only to see…

Alice, looking perfectly normal, without a single blemish, or hair out of place. “Sorry London dear, that took longer than anticipated.

London got up and walked up to her, opened her mouth to ask a question, closed it because she didn’t know what question she was going to ask, thought about it for a moment, and then opened it again. “Who were they?”

“Just some troublesome busybodies, who don’t like me.” Alice said.

London still looked confused, so Alice sighed, and kneeled down to London's level,putting a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t expect you to understand now, but I have made some decisions in my life, decisions that I do not regret, but it has left me with more enemies than friends. These enemies have been looking for me, but until now they have not been able to find me. I’m afraid I have been a little careless recently.”

“What happened to them?” London asked.

“I’ll tell you when you are older. Just know That they can’t look for us anymore, but more may be coming soon.” Alice said, trying not to draw attention to the Dolls sneaking past the pair on their way to the laundry to wash the blood off.

London looked scared. “What do we do?”

“I’m afraid we may have to leave the country.” Alice said. “It will probably throw them off for a few years.”

“Where will we go?” London asked. For as long as she could remember, she had never gone further than the nearby town.

“I’m thinking of Switzerland, at least for a few months, then… we’ll see.”  Alice said. “How would you like to learn how to ski?”

“What will happen to the house?” Instead of answering Alices question, she had one of her own.

“We’ll bring it with us of course.” Alice said. “I’ve been living in this house since before I came to france.”

“Really?” London asked.

“Yes, it will be like we never left.” Alice said, “Think of it as a change of scenery.”

“Ok…” London said, most of the fear and sadness having been slowly replaced with a sort of excitement. “What's Ski?”

Alice laughed. “I’ll tell you about it later, for now, let me show you how to pack. We’ll need some things for the road.”

As she let London lead her upstairs, she made a mental note to get some books on homeschooling. She wondered if she should be annoyed or thankful that those wizards ended up making the decision for her.

She settled on being annoyed because she wouldn’t have this problem if they would learn to just mind their own business.

Chapter Text

London sighed as she sat on her suitcase, as Alice's army of dolls put the finishing touches on rebuilding their house.

“Is there a problem London?” Alice asked, turning from her task of directing her dolls.

“No… I just miss Spain,” London grumbled. “I liked it there. Couldn’t we have at least moved to Italy? It's so cold here.”

“Sorry dear. But I really had my heart set on Romania. It's a beautiful old country with a rich history, both magical and mundane,” Alice said. “Plus, I hear the Romanian ministry is rather lax in its law enforcement, so we may be able to move around more freely.”

“I guess…” London continued to grumble.

“Come on, you love the snow, you used to love playing in it when we were in Switzerland.” This got a noncommittal noise from London. So Alice added with a wry smile, “I’ll tell you what, if you still feel this way after a year, We’ll spend a summer in Greece, a nice Mediterranean vacation.”

“Really?” London said, perking up.

“I am no liar, London. You know this,” Alice said playfully.

London, looking significantly more perky, returned to watching the dolls work, kicking her legs playfully.

Alice shook her head ruefully. At eight and a half years London was becoming a little handful. Good thing Alice had many hands to spare.

“Oh by the way London, I know we just moved, but will you be alright by yourself for the evening?” Alice asked.

“Why, you need to be somewhere?” London asked.

“Merely to pay my respects to the owner of the land,” Alice said.

“Owner?”

“I normally wouldn’t bother, but the land we are currently in belongs to a powerful Vampire named Lady Remilia Scarlet. I have already gotten permission, but I should visit to properly establish gratitude.” Alice said. “Despite holding a large amount of influence in the local ministries, she is uninterested in politics and will let anyone through her doors provided that they are interesting.”

“...Can I come?” London asked.

She’d honestly quite like to meet a Vampire Lady, it sounds interesting.

“I’m not sure you should… Catching the attention of a powerful Vampire could be dangerous, you are only human after all,” Alice said.

London pouted. “I’m living on her land, wouldn’t it be more dangerous to hide me?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to hide you per say...” Alice said. “But I was only planning to mention you in passing. I’d rather Lady Remilia didn’t get too interested in you.”

“Is she a bad vampire?” London asked.

“She is a true vampire,” Alice corrected. “Possibly the last of her kind. And it is naive and foolish to try and prescribe ordinary human morals to such beings, their minds do not work the same way a normal person’s would. She is a predator, and does not treasure life in the same way a human would. That doesn’t mean she will attack you for no reason, nor does it mean that she is heartless, nor evil. But it does mean that she might be capable of doing things others might find questionable if she finds you too… interesting.”

‘ Like try and poach you, ’ Alice thought privately. She had no idea if Remilia was the kind to keep human pets, and she fully intended to find out before she let London anywhere near her.

“Reasonable fears. But my mistress would never do anything untoward with her guests,” said a new voice. “Provided they are polite of course. My lady has standards”

Alice whirled around in shock, she hadn’t sensed anyone approach.

A young woman with white hair and dressed in maid attire was standing quite unconcerned in the middle of a cloud of armed dolls, all pointing weapons at her.

“Apologies, did I startle you?” The maid said.

Alice playing back what was said, withdrew her dolls. “Forgive me, I tend to keep my guard fairly high. One must when being pursued by law enforcement.”

“Understandable,” the maid said, giving a short bow. “I’ll endeavour to make myself more apparent in the future.”

Alice looked the figure up and down, studying what could only be the infamous ‘perfect maid’ of the Scarlet mansion. She certainly cut a fine figure that was for sure, pale, perfect platinum blonde hair, steely grey eyes, and dressed so immaculately that she could give Alice herself a run for her money. Her posture and demeanour was also unnaturally immaculate, she had been completely unperturbed to be totally surrounded by weapons, not even a twitch.

The most worrying thing was that she was standing less than three meters away, without her or her sentry dolls being any the wiser. If she had wanted to, she could have killed Alice right then and there.

“Woww…” London said, catching Alice off guard. “You’re so pretty.”

Alice stared blankly at her daughter. ‘ I mean... objectively true, but is now really the time? ’ She thought, ‘ I taught you to be honest, but not that honest. ’

The maid laughed, and even that had a perfect crystal clear cadence. “Thank you… But perhaps we should introduce ourselves, I am Sakuya Izayoi, Head maid of the Scarlet Devil Mansion.” She bowed low.

‘ Hmm, a bow, not a curtsey. ’ Alice Noted, before bowing herself. “Alice Margatroid, the Seven coloured Puppeteer, but you knew that already. This is my Daughter, London Margatroid.”

London shook herself from admiring Sakuya, and also bowed, like Alice Taught her ( “Magicians do not Curtsey, they Bow.” ). “P-pleased to meet you.”

Sakuya allowed an expression of mild surprise to cross her face. “A daughter? I had assumed an apprentice. I was unaware you were a mother.”

“I have endeavoured to keep this information hidden, you understand.” Alice said.

Sakuya nodded in understanding. Enemies can’t target family members they don’t know exist.

“Well, I suppose we should get to business then,” Sakuya said, “The Mistress has decided to invite you and your household to join us for dinner at your discretion.”

“You may tell your mistress that I would be delighted to attend,” Alice said. Her brow creased. “Household?”

“I was not told specifics, but I was told there would be a plus one,” Sakuya said.

‘ Damn, ’ thought Alice. Trust a vampire to be one step ahead.

“Very well,” Alice said. “At what time would we be expected?”

After times were exchanged and Sakuya had left, Alice sat down on a chair brought over by a doll and sighed, wondering if her decision to come to Romania was the correct one. She had thought that she’d be safer under the wing of a vampire, and could give London a more stable environment. Perhaps she should have spared more thought to how dangerous the Vampire could be… Or her subordinates. She had been so confident…

“Should I do anything with my hair?” London asked.

Alice rolled her eyes. “You spend an hour every morning already, I doubt there is anything else you could do.”

But still she relaxed. Nothing more to do then just try and stay in control of the situation, and keep a tight grip on London.

“So Miss Margatroid,” Said Remilia sipping daintily from her wine glass. “While we have spoken briefly on the subject, I wonder if you would be willing to further enlighten us on your reasons for choosing the old country.”

Alice finished her mouthful of the admittedly amazing food, and answered her host. “Well for a start I have always been somewhat interested in Romanian culture…”

London took this moment to zone out a little, having heard this on the flight here, and surveyed the table’s other occupants. There was of course their host, who was much younger looking then Hailey was expecting, like a child or an early teen, it created an odd effect when combined with her refined mannerisms, like a child playing princess, only after having been classically trained in theatre.

Then there was the one sitting to her left, someone who looked like they were ready for bed. Her colour palette seemed to consist entirely of various shades of purple, including her hair and eyes, and she had her mob cap decorated in stars and moons. Remilia had introduced her as the Mansions resident magician, she seemed somewhat bored, having finished her strangely small portion, and was eying the book she had brought with her that lay next to her dinner plate.

Then there was the gatekeeper and the maid, who had sat down to eat after serving everybody else. It was rather unusual for servants to eat at the master's table, at least to London's knowledge. Maybe Remilia was a nice person?

“...Well you can be sure I will do my best to keep snooping wizards away from your home.” Remilia was saying to her mother. “While they might not like it, they are quite fond of my wealth down at the ministry. I doubt they will find you, that is, unless they follow you home. Plausible deniability, you understand.”

“Of course. I am thankful for your shelter,” Alice said respectfully.

“And what of your daughter, London was it? Are you looking forward to your stay in Romania?”

“Huh?” London exclaimed, suddenly checking back into the conversation. “Er… Well I was hoping for Italy to be honest.”

Remilia giggled while Alice Massaged her forehead. “London, remind me to give some more lessons on ‘tact’ when we get home.”

“Yes Mama,” London said meekly.

“Oh don’t worry Miss Margatroid, we were all children once,” Remilia tittered. “In fact, speaking of childhood, I understand you are English, correct?”

“That is correct,” Alice said, “I lived there until about eight years prior, before I started travelling.”

“Unless I am mistaken, you attend Hogwarts for your schooling, correct?” Remilia said.

“Briefly, yes,” Alice said, frowning.

“Well so did Patchouli here, isn’t that right?” Remilia said, turning to her Magician companion, only to find she had started reading.

With a pout, she leaned over and poked Patchouli in the cheek. “Stop reading at the table, we have guests.”

Patchouli rolled her eyes, closed her book and turned to Remilia. “Yes Remilia?”

“I was just telling them that you also went to Hogwarts, Isn’t that right? ” Remilia said, putting emphasis on the last phrase.”

“Do I have to?” Patchouli said dryly.

“ Patchouli ,” Remilia said, in a voice that was almost a whine.

Patchouli rolled her eyes, before turning to Alice. “Yes, I graduated from Hogwarts… oh around a century ago now I think… Has it changed much?” Patchouli said, sounding like she was indulging Remilia more than actually caring about the answer.

“I suppose so, I haven’t been for nearly forty years myself though, and unlike you, I never graduated,” Alice said.

That at least tweaked Patchouli’s interest. “Hmm, I am surprised. You don’t seem like the dropout type, were you expelled?”

“In a sense,” Alice said. “But it was merely a case of conflicting ideals, I didn’t agree with the teachers, they didn’t agree with me, I simply decided that I could get further on my own.”

“A bit extreme, was that not?” Patchouli said, “I agree it was rather stifling even in my time, but it was only seven years. Surely it was more trouble than it was worth to drop out?”

“I admit it had its difficulties, losing my wand being chief among them. But I like to think I became a better Magician because of it, and was able to reach proper Magicianhood much younger than most, and was able to move my focus to my passions instead, Dollmaking and Puppetry.”

“An interesting study for a magician I must admit, what inspired you to such a specialised pursuit?”

Alice smiled wryly. “Well it might not surprise you, but I was not particularly blessed with friends, I spent most of my childhood playing with dolls, I suppose it had all started with wanting a doll who could play back. As I grew older, this became an interest in dollmaking itself, as well as the art of puppetry. This eventually evolved into my current area of research, trying to make a living doll.”

Patchouli also smiled.” Ahh the classic, the tale of Frankenstein, the trespass of ‘gods’ domain. A very worthy magical pursuit. Right down to the ignorant masses hammering at the castle doors, in fact.”

“Hmm, true, I never noticed the literary parallel,” Alice mused. “Although in my case it's more because of all the Law enforcement personnel I have killed, rather than any crimes against nature I may or may not be performing.”

“I have been meaning to ask actually, why are you on the run from magical authorities? Remilia mentioned it in passing, but she did not go into the specifics,” Patchouli said.

“Because I do not view their authority as having authority over me, I do not participate in their society, nor live in their settlements, so I fail to see why their laws should have power over me,” Alice said.

“Well yes, but what Law did you actually break?” Patchouli said.

“Minor breach of the Statute of Secrecy,” Alice said. “I was putting on a magical puppet show for mundane children.”

Even Remilia blinked. “Excuse me, but how many people have you killed over this?”

“About twenty-eight at my last count,” Alice admitted. “Rather disproportionate I know, but I refused to be arrested by an authority I did not recognise and they were not going to take no for an answer.”

“Do you ever regret this decision?” Remilia asked curiously. “It can't be easy being on the run all the time.”

“For the most part, no, I can’t imagine making a different decision at the time…” Alice glanced at London, “Although maybe if I had known I was going to be a parent, perhaps I would have made more of an effort to avoid bloodshed. Perhaps I would not be as zealously pursued if I had merely concealed myself or evaded capture.”

“Rash decisions made in youth,” Patchouli said, nooding. “I remember burning quite a few bridges in my departure from wizarding society, not twenty-eight aurors dead mind you, but burned bridges nonetheless.”

“I take it this is disrupting your parenting somewhat?” Remilia said.

“Well it's more like I am having trouble creating a stable environment for her to grow up with, I don’t want her to grow up as lonely as I did, yet it is very difficult for her to put down any roots, when we have to be prepared to leave at the drop of a hat.”

“I’m not lonely,” London pouted.

“Most people don’t think they are lonely until they get someone else in their life,” Alice chided, “I certainly didn’t think I was lonely until I adopted you.”

“But I have you Mama,” London said.

“That's very Sweet of you London,” Alice said, cupping her daughters cheeks. “But just because you have me doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to reach out and meet other people your age, Just because I turned out alright doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try going out and meeting people.”

“You know, that’s not particularly convincing coming from a fugitive with Twenty-eight counts of homicide,” Patchouli said.

“I prefer to consider it resisting unjust arrest,” Alice said, releasing Haileys cheeks, “Regardless, after I finish Teaching London Romanian, I intend to enrol her into a local school.”

London said nothing to this and just pouted, this being a battle she had already fought and lost.

“Ahh, yet another motive for coming to Romania I’d assume?” Remilia said.

“Indeed, while living on your land. I feel I can relax my guard somewhat. With this being private land, nobody is just going to stumble onto my abode, wizard or otherwise. And while they might spot me on the street, as long as I don’t let them follow me home, I should be able to live here for quite some time without worry, at least until London completes her Primary education, then I can consider a boarding school of some description.”

“Really? Boarding school?” Remilia said, raising an eyebrow. “With how protective you seem to be, I would think you would not want her out of your sight.”

“Well, while I would like to keep her close, being a parent isn’t about what I want. It's about providing your child with all the knowledge and tools to succeed in life, and while she has shown an interest in my profession, I feel that boarding school will be a good opportunity for her to grow without me hovering over her shoulder for a while, and maybe find her own interests,” Alice said. “As a bonus, her spending time away from home for school means I don’t have to worry about her being discovered for most of the year.”

“But I want to be a Magician like you Mama!” London whined.

Alice waved her finger “ah-a you want to be like me right now . Perhaps that might change as you are exposed to more of the world, or at the very least it might change what kind of magician you want to be. Maybe you might decide to specialise in something other than dolls. Maybe Elementalism, or summoning.”

“Both worthy schools of magic,” Patchouli said sagely. “I’m an Elementalist myself and have dabbled in summoning.”

Alice nodded in Patchouli’s direction, before addressing London again, “There is more to both the world and magic than just animation and puppetry. And you should go out and experience more of it before deciding how to live your life. After Primary school, if you really want to focus on just magic, we’ll try and get you into one of the magical schools. And if it doesn’t suit you, like me, after a few years you can drop out and I will tutor you myself, but not until you have made a genuine effort to expand your horizons.”

London couldn’t really argue with that, so she just grumbled.

“Another thing to consider, if magic school doesn’t pan out, Patchouli could help tutor her, she has a large library and has studied many fields of magic,” Remilia added. “Isn’t that right Patchouli?”

Patchouli gave Remilia a significantly unimpressed look. “Why are you like this?”

“I feel like I am missing some context here,” Alice said as Remilia pouted.

“Remilia is trying to get me to get out more and meet people. She thinks I spend too much time in the Library,” Patchouli said.

“Well you do literally live in there, so tell me I’m wrong,” Remilia said, pouting intensifying.

“Apologies in advance. Remilia might strong-arm you into socialising with me in the future,” Patchouli said dryly.

“I would not!” Remilia huffed. “I’d just… suggest it every now and then.”

“I… see,” Alice said, getting a grasp of exactly why she was invited to dinner.

It was kind of adorable, in a very odd way, they seemed like good friends.

London on the other hand had a different take. “So are you two married?”

Remilia spat out her drink (which being blood was quite disturbing) and started coughing.

Patchouli on the other hand, looked London dead in the eye. “No, but sometimes it sure as hell feels like it.”

“Got everything you need?” Alice asked as she straightened up London's new uniform.

“Yes Mama,” grumbled London.

“Come on, don't be sour. Think of it as a new experience,” Alice said, “It will be only for a few more years.”

“And then you are going to ship me off to boarding school,” London pouted.

“It won’t be that bad, and like I said, if you truly don’t like it, you are free to drop out,” Alice said, “but give it an honest effort. For me?”

London sighed. “Yes Mama.”

“Good, now go and meet some people. And tonight you can choose what we have for dinner.” Alice said.

“Really?” London said.

“I’m no liar London,” Alice said. “Now go on, have a good day.”

Nodding resolutely, she ran up the steps to her new school, where her new teacher was waiting for her. Giving one last wave to her Mother, she was led inside.

Smiling, Alice took the long walk home.

When she arrived, she took out a pen and paper, and started composing a letter.

Dear Yukari Yakumo

My name is Alice Margatroid, and I have heard from a mutual acquaintance (Remilia Scarlet) of your offer for residency in the Land referred to me as Gensokyo, and while I understand that migration is currently suspended, I am interested in applying for some time in the future…

Chapter Text

Dumbledore strolled casually through the Romanian woodland, using the cover of the tree’s to escape the worst of the Romanian summer, until a single cottage came into view through the trees.

No, not any cottage, The Cottage of Alice Margatroid.

He is aware he is being watched. Despite not having seen Alice since her time at Hogwarts, he knew enough to surmise that there were probably many glass eyes on him even now.

To that end, he walked calmly, without tension, and kept his wand in his pocket. He did not sneak, he kept his posture casual, he made every step he could to be as non threatening as possible.

As he entered the clearing, he got his first glance at Alice's infamous dolls. They had seemed to have been working on the garden, with many carrying pruning shears, trowls, buckets, and sicles, all far too big for their tiny frames. Two dolls were carrying a large bucket full of weeds and clippings, and three together were handling a large watering can. However none were working right now, every one had turned their tiny porcelain faces and glass eyes to watch him approach, hovering silently.

Conscious of his audience, both seen and unseen, he walked down the well maintained garden path, careful not to step on the manicured lawn, partly out of caution, as he didn’t want to set off the dolls, but mostly because it would be very rude.

The dolls still watched him pass, heads slowly rotating to follow him, but did not move to intercept or harry him. This was a good sign, as it meant while his presence was probably not appreciated, he was not entirely unwelcome.

As he passed close to a doll carrying a sickle, he paused and had a look, his academic curiosity taking over for a moment. He could not recall if Alice had such a hobby in school, but it is clear that at least now, she is a craftswoman that few could equal. It was a genuine work of art, and even so close, it was remarkably lifelike. Were it not for the stiffness of its face and the joints of its fingers, it would be hard to even tell it was a doll, as opposed to some well dressed fae. And on the subject, while Dumbledore is no expert on dresses, or fashion in general as many of his peers would attest, he knew good tailoring when he saw it.

He also took a moment to appreciate the cottage itself, and found it quite pleasing. It had a fairy tale charm to it, with bright friendly colours, a well maintained garden, and a small tower on the right hand side. It put him in mind of a dollhouse probably quite intentionally he imagined.

He couldn’t help but give a melancholic sigh. Were not things the way they are, He could have seen this cottage gracing a village such as Hogsmeade, its creator famous and beloved for her art and craft. Her dolls something to be admired, rather than feared.

Alas, things are as they are, and now he must play with the cards he is dealt.

Continuing down the path, he arrived at the front door, and, not without some small trepidation, knocked smartly, three times.

There was a pause, before the door was opened, and Alice was there, frowning at the headmaster. Yet her expression was not overtly hostile, just inquisitive.

“Professor Dumbledore.” It was not a question, she knew of his approach. “Do what do I owe the pleasure?” Her tone was guarded, but cordial.

“Good afternoon Miss Margatroid,” Dumbledore said, his tone jovial, “I hope you don’t mind, but I was in the area on business, and thought I might drop in to see an old student of mine.”

Alice stared at him blankly.

“...Would you believe that I am not in fact here to arrest you?” Dumbledore said, sounding slightly more tired.

Alice tilts her head in thought, before saying. “I would be willing to entertain the notion.”

“Capital!” Dumbledore said, his jovial tone returning. “If it is not too much trouble, might I come in? It is a long way to Romania, and my knees are not what they used to be.”

Alice maintains eye contact for a moment, before sighing and stepping aside. “Come in. Far be it from me to deny an old man his comfort.”

“Thank you.” Dumbledore said, stepping across the threshold. He is glad to have passed the first hurdle, but he knows that it is not likely to get any easier from here on.

He takes a moment to examine the entrance hall. There are few adornments, just a coat rack, an umbrella stand, a small shelf containing some boots, and a few paintings adorning the walls.

He does note that there are two raincoats on the rack, alongside a box of tiny doll sized ones, one coat looks to fit Alice, while the other was clearly meant for someone smaller. It was a similar story for the Umbrellas and rainboots, Two in each, one adult, the other child sized.

Clearly Alice did not live alone. However as Alice led him into a very well maintained sitting room, there was little in the way of photos or portraits to confirm Dumbledore's theories one way or another.

What there was was dolls, and lots of them. Many tiered shelves adorned the walls, laden with various Dolls, of varying makes and styles, but all bore the tell tale meticulous care of their creator. They seemed to be idle, none acknowledging his presence, but he feels instinctively that could change very quickly should he be seen as an intruder.

In the few places where there were no dolls, there were a few paintings here and there, of varying quality, some almost seeming amateurish, which stood out in Dumbledore's mind as being somewhat out of place.

“Take a seat,” Alice said gesturing to a comfy looking chintz sofa, decorated with various lace doilies and cushions.

Dumbledore did so gladly, as he had not been facetious about his knees. “Much appreciated.”

“Would you like some tea?” Alice asked.

“If it would not be too much trouble.” Dumbledore said.

“It is no trouble,” Was Alice's reply, “it won’t be a moment.”

Despite the offer and assurances, Alice made no attempt to leave the room, instead sitting down opposite the headmaster. Dumbledore assumed that it was in fact her dolls who were going to make the tea. The thought itself was quite fascinating to him, as he had only heard of her dolls combat prowess, yet that was clearly not the end of their utility. Indeed it seemed that dolls infused every part of the dollmaker's life.

His musings were interrupted by Alice. “Since this seems not to be an aggressive visit, allow me to greet you properly.”

To that she gives a shallow bow. “Alice Margatroid greets The Grand Sorcerer Albus Dumbledore, and welcomes him to her house.”

‘Grand sorcerer, hmm,’ Dumbledore muses to himself. It makes sense that that is the title Alice chooses to address him as, as it is the only one that is not a political or professional appointment, but rather a recognition of his magical ability within the wizarding community, and thus, likely the only one Alice respects.

He did not muse long however, as that would be rude, and instead returns the greeting as appropriate. “And I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, greets The Seven Colour Puppeteer, Alice Margatroid, and is honoured by her hospitality.”

Pleasantries exchanged, and the old ways recognised, Alice seems to relax a little. Although her eyebrow raised inquisitively. “I must say, I am surprised you knew that title, I did not think it circulated in wizarding circles.”

“If I am honest, your name in general rarely circulates these days. Outside of those who need to know, like Aurors and hitwizards, most Ministries are content to pretend you don’t exist.”

Alice nodded. “Understandable. My continued freedom is probably somewhat of an embarrassment.”

“That is part of it, But I believe it is also a matter of being difficult to weave a political narrative around. Despite your activities being viewed as criminal by the wizarding community at large, you are far from a dark lord. The original offence was relatively minor, and yet it is one the International Confederation of Wizards is unwilling or unable to ignore. yet it is hard to justify the loss of life caused by the pursuit of what would otherwise be a relatively minor offence, not to mention the difficulty of capture.” By the final sentence, Dumbledore sounded tired indeed, eyes tinted with melancholy.

Alice, on the other hand, snorted derisively. “So they are aware it is foolish.”

“Perhaps.” Dumbledore conceded, “But unfortunately, your continued disregard for the statute of secrecy sets an awkward president and unmitigated risk for its continued maintenance, making you hard to simply ignore.”

At this Alice rolls her eyes. “Well we can’t have that can we?” she said, voice tinged with sarcasm.

At this point, a team of two dolls carried in a tea set on a tray, while another carried in a steaming kettle.

Placing them on the table, they quickly prepared the tea right there, moving like a well oiled machine, and in no time at all, Dumbledore was offered a freshly brewed cup of tea.

As he enjoyed the fragrant tea, he noted that Alice, as she has done several times during the conversation, checked the clock with a look of concern, before returning her attention to Dumbledore.

“Now that we are done with the small talk and pleasantries.” Alice said, looking Dumbledore right in the eyes. “What business do you have here?”

“I have a feeling you already know why I am here.” Dumbledore said evenly.

“I have my suspicions.” Alice confirmed. “But what I don’t know is your intentions.”

At this Alice leaned in. “So, tell me, beyond the Grand Sorcerer, Who exactly am I speaking to? Am I speaking to Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, first class, War Hero, bane of dark Wizards? Or is it Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the British ministry of magic, who heads the Wizengamot? Or perhaps Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, a leading figure in the international magical community?”

“As it happens, none of the above.” Dumbledore, smiling. “I’m afraid I am here as Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, as it has come to my attention there is a young girl here nearing school age, who unless she has officially emigrated, is still a British citizen.”

Alice leaned back, brow creased in confusion. “Surely you cannot be serious.”

“I’m afraid I am neither Shirley nor Serius.” Dumbledore said. “But for what it's worth, I do mean what I have said. I must ask, are you even aware of who you had taken ten years ago?”

After holding eye contact for a moment, Alice could only sigh. “Not at the time, but I eventually worked it out.” she admitted.

“I am still quite confused why this even happened in the first place.” Dumbledore said, “This is far from your usual modus operandi after all. What made you decide to take up baby snatching of all things?”

Alice scoffed. “I hardly ‘took it up’, it's not like I made a habit out of it. But to answer your question, I happened upon her… adoption while on a stroll. I simply viewed the two whom she had been left in the ‘care’ of to be unfit guardians, thus I thought it was in the child's best interests to be removed. It was a spur of the moment decision, but one I have yet to regret.”

She then levelled a dangerous look at Dumbledore over her cup of tea. “Do you intend to try and take her then?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “No, I’m afraid that even if I tried, I doubt I would succeed. For all my accomplishments, I am but an old man, feeling the pressure of age, while you are at the peak of your craft, untouched by time, and in the seat of your power. Had I intended to try, I would not have walked into this room as I have.”

“You sell yourself short Dumbledore, despite your age, it is too soon to dismiss your prowess.” Alice said. Despite this compliment, she did not disagree with Dumbledore's assessment of his chances to face her. “What is it you intend to do then?”

“Well, you see, despite your… custody, I am still very much Hailey's magical guardian in the eyes of the law, and she is expected at Hogwarts this coming year. It was also the wish of her late parents to see her attend, and I feel like I’d be both failing in my duty and in honouring their memory.” Dumbledore explained. “Thus, to perhaps facilitate this, I was hoping to come to an arrangement of some sort, for Hailey to come into my custody, at least for the school year, so that she might attend.”

Alice sat and digested this offer for a few moments, while Dumbledore took the opportunity to enjoy his tea.

It really was quite good tea.

“There is an… issue… with your proposal.” Alice said, choosing her words carefully.

Before Dumbledore could enquire as to what, the sound of the front door opening could be heard, along with a call of, “I’m Home.”

Alice sighed as footsteps could be heard coming down the Hallway, and Dumbledore came face to face with a girl who he thought he should recognise, but whose appearance threw him for a loop.

The girl, dressed in a smart looking school uniform, raised her eyebrow at Dumbledore's presence, her emerald eyes looking at him with curiosity from behind her large glasses. She had a fine looking leather backpack with two of Alice’s dolls attached to it like ornaments, but who come alive even as Dumbledore Watches, lifting the bag off her back and carrying it away to somewhere further down the hall. Her hair, despite being the right colour, lacked the unkept, birdsnest quality he would have expected from James daughter, instead it was a very neat, straight, and in a shoulder length bob cut, with the exception of a rogue lick of hair projecting outwards and upwards from under the large ribbon in her hair.

What was most jarring however was the complete lack of scar upon her forehead, with nary a discoloration to suggest there ever was one.

After she was seemingly satisfied with examining Dumbledore, she turned to Alice. “Hello Mother, who is this?”

“Afternoon London, How was school?” Alice said, gesturing for London to approach her, which she did.

“School was fine Mother, there isn’t really much left of the school year, so it's mostly just activities.” London said, leaning in to let her mother give her a peck on the cheek, before repeating the question, “Who is this mother?”

“This is Professor Dumbledore, from Hogwarts, the English magical school, who has come to talk about your future schooling.” Alice said, absentmindedly trying to smooth the cowlick out of London's hair, without success.  “After all, Primary school is nearly over, so we need to start putting thought into where you will be going next year.”

London made a sour face, but nevertheless gave Dumbledore a bow much like her mother. “Nice to meet you.”

“This conversation is likely to get a little boring, why don’t you play a bit upstairs? I’ll call you down later once things are hashed out.” Alice said.

London pouted some more, but said with a sigh. “Yes Mother.”

With that, the young girl left down the hall and out of sight.

After waiting for the sound of London's footsteps to recede, and a distant door to open and shut, Alice continued. “As I was saying, there might be an issue with that plan.”

“You call her London?” Dumbledore said, eyebrow raised.

“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t call her London, that is her name ,” Alice said, “London Margatroid to be exact. As I said, I had no idea what her name was when I first took her in, so I gave her one. She spent the majority of her life with that name. She is aware of her original name, as I informed her a few years ago, but she still prefers London, as it was what she grew up with.”

“And the Scar? I couldn’t see it.” Dumbledore asked.

“It's still there, we just cover it with makeup.” Alice said, taking a sip of tea. “Because it is an eyesore.”

“Back to the subject, I don’t think London will be happy to go under Hailey for her schooling, as she does not identify with that name, nor do I think she will be happy to drop the Margatroid either.” Alice gave a fond smile. “She is far too proud of her mother to pretend to be anything other than my daughter.”

Dumbledore stroked his beard, brow furrowed. “Hmm, I can see why that might be a problem.”

“That said, I have been considering enrolling London in a magical school for a while.” Alice said, as two dolls came in, carrying a small stack of papers, which they handed to Alice. “And I have an alternative proposal should you be willing to consider it.”

Alice quickly leafs through it to check if everything is there, before handing it to Dumbledore.

Curious, Dumbledore takes the papers and starts skimming the top page.

Then, eyes wide, he also starts leafing through.

After a few minutes he looks up to Alice, “Is this accurate?”

Alice nodded. “I have had this as a backup plan for quite some time, in case I ever needed to rejoin Wizarding society, or I was ever captured. A more well read associate of mine helped me hash out the details, and she has assured me it's bulletproof, provided it goes to trial.”

Dumbledore slumped in his chair. “How on earth could such an oversight have been overlooked for so long?”

Alice shrugged. “Not my fault Wizarding law is so conservative.”

“Are you sure about this? I’m sure that once people find out, they will have it repealed. It will work, but only once.” Dumbledore said. “It will not protect you a second time.”

“It will be fine, I can hold myself back from any more puppet shows until London graduates.” Alice said sardonically, sipping tea.

“And what about afterwards?” Dumbledore said, sceptically.

“Then it will be a non issue.” Alice said, waving her hand dismissively. “I intend to ‘leave for Japan’ afterwards.”

Dumbledore blinked, “Do you mean that metaphorically or…”

“Literally.” Alice said.

Dumbledore digested this for a moment. Before asking “And what of Hai… London? Do you intend to bring her with you.”

“That will be up to her, She will be seventeen by then, well old enough to be making her own decisions.” Alice said.

Dumbledore could only nod to that.

After a pause, Dumbledore asked. “So to be clear, you are willing to have London attend Hogwarts?”

“Yes, but only if she can attend under the name London. I don’t want her to feel obligated to live under a name she does not identify with.”

To that Dumbledore sighed. “That will be a bit of a headache for me. People are expecting a Hailey Potter to attend.”

“Well, how many people know that I took her?” Alice asked.

“Currently, only a few close associates of mine, as well as the previous Minister for magic. It was decided at the time that if word got out that The girl who lived had simply vanished, potentially into the hands of a known criminal, it would cause panic.”

“A prudent decision.” Alice said, nodding. “It does also present an opportunity. All you have to do is make some excuses as to why Hailey is currently not attending, and then London will be able to attend under her own name. And hopefully, if and when the truth comes out, people will already be used to the name London.”

Dumbledore stewed on this for a moment, before sighing. “Very well, I suppose London's happiness and peace of mind is more important than preventing a political headache for me. Although in the long run, publically associating her with you will probably not do her any favours when it comes to making friends.”

Alice scoffs. “London is blameless. Anyone who holds my transgressions against her is not worth associating with in the first place.”

Then, Alice calls out. “London!”

A few moments later London comes back into the room. “Yes Mother?”

“Good news London. After discussing it with the Professor, it's been decided that you will be attending Hogwarts next year.” Alice said, cheerfully.

London on the other hand, simply frowned. “Joy.”

As Dumbledore left Alice's home and began his return trip through the forest, He can’t help wondering, as he often does, if he has done the right thing.

Alice has killed many people in her personal quest for freedom, many were good honest Aurors just trying to do their job. And here he was, about to aid Alice in avoiding almost all responsibility or repercussions for their deaths.

But, at the end of the day, Alice was not evil, and will only attack in retaliation, not out of maliciousness or spite. And lacking the ability to hold Alice responsible for her actions, and needing her cooperation and good will, this was the best way available to prevent future deaths at her hand, even if you disregard the fact that she is Hai… London's adoptive mother.

At the end of the day, he must prioritise the needs of the living, over the needs of the dead.

At the end of the day, It's just a few more he will have to beg for forgiveness, when his time comes.

Chapter Text

THE DAILY PROPHET

BLACK ALICE STANDS TRIAL, WALKS FREE

Uproar in the ministry as the infamous Alice Magatroid leaves the courtroom a free woman!

Tensions were high today when known fugitive witch Alice Margatroid stood in front of the Wizgramot today in her trial for the charges of flagrant disregard of the statute of secrecy, multiple accounts of resisting arrest, and the deaths of no less than 31 on duty Aurors and Hitwizards.

Despite the illusive Witch evading capture for nearly 20 years, the wizarding community at large was shocked when no less than 7 days ago did Alice come forth, and allowed herself to be taken into custody. With her only concession being that she be given a fair trial, and be allowed to bring in her own legal counsel.

Despite many seeing this as an opportunity to see justice done, there were no small amount of sceptics as to the sudden change of heart in the powerful witch, who had successfully resisted all attempts to see her captured, and worried that this was merely the first part in some wicked scheme the murderess has concocted in revenge for the attempted arrests. 

However even the most wild theories paled to what has transpired today at trial…

“Excuse me, could you repeat that?” Amelia Bones, who was presiding over the trial, asked, unable to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

Alice stood in the defendants box, dignified despite her cuffs, and completely unperturbed by the amount of Aurors surrounding her. In front of her was a Goblin, Wixchak, A Gringots lawyer hired by Alice to represent her, who couldn’t keep the professional smirk off his face as he made a show of adjusting his glasses and shuffling his papers before speaking again.

Rarely was he handed such an interesting defence, nor such an opportunity to rub the wizards legal and bureaucratic inadequacies in their face. He gleefully repeated his client's plea. “Not only do we plead not guilty, your honour, But the Defence maintains that no crime has been committed.”

There was a loud murmuring at that, and even a cry of outrage or two, before Bones called the room back into silence.

“...You may continue.” Bones said, although her frown made it clear that she was not too happy either.

“While it is true that my client, Alice Margatroid, on the morning of august the twenty-fifth, nineteen-sixty-eight, at roughly nine o'clock, in the muggle village of Waineshire, did breach the statute of secrecy, by performing a magically assisted puppet show for fifteen muggle children. And in the following confrontation with magical law enforcement, did proceed to injure and kill two on duty aurors who had attempted to arrest her.” The Goblin paused for a moment as another murmur passed through the audience, before continuing. “But… by the Charter of the International Confederation of Wizards, as acknowledged by the British Ministry for Magic, she was well within her rights to do so.”

There was a much louder murmur this time, and Bones had to create a loud crack with her wand to bring the room back in order.

“Mr Wixchak, is the defence claiming that her actions were in some way supported by the International confederation. By the charter no less?” Bones said, with a note of incredulity.

The goblins smirk grew more pronounced, and flicked to the next page, entirely for show, as he had already memorised the entire document. “Just so. I wish to draw your attention to the very first amendment of the Charter of the International Confederation of Wizards, known at the time, as the Right of Hermitage.”

There were several people sitting up at that, as some of the more learned in Magical law had a sudden horrible epiphany as to where the Defence was leading.

“Historically,” Wixchak continued, pretending not to notice the stir his words had caused. “When the International Confederation of Wizards was first founded, there were a small, but not insignificant, number of powerful wizards, witches, and magicians who opposed its formation. These individuals, viewing the organisation's formation as an attempt of the majority to curtail their individual powers and freedoms, refused to accept the sovereignty of such an organisation over all of wizard kind, and in some cases were threatening violent action should they attempt to enforce it.”

“In order to protect the then fledgling organisation, afraid of the effects of conflict with these powerful outspoken elements would have, the International Confederation of Wizards then proposed its first amendment in the hopes of placating them, offering them special rights and greater autonomy, in exchange for a diminished presence in Wizarding society. Eventually, after intense negotiation, the Right of Hermitage was established.”

The goblin continued. “Despite several revisions in the years following its creation, the Right of Hermitage is as follows, summarised of course for the sake of brevity. That should a Witch or Wizard willfully and intentionally sequester themselves from the greater wizarding community for a minimum of five years, from that day on, as long as their isolation is maintained, they will be legally considered Hermits, and thus have their personal sovereignty recognised by the confederation… and have immunity from a majority of Wizarding law.”

This time there was far more than just murmurs, and it took far longer for Bones to regain order.

After the kerfuffle died down, Wixchak went on as if nothing had happened. “There are exceptions to this immunity of course, such as conspiracy against the wider Wizarding community, regicide, attempted or otherwise, of a legitimate Mundane sovereign without cause, and acts of unprovoked violence against the wider public. But notably, there is no exceptions to be found for breaches to the statute of Secrecy. In addition the right allows for the Hermit to defend his or her personal sovereignty via force from any attempts to curtail it.”

He didn’t bother to stop for the murmurs this time, increasing his volume, although not his tone, was enough to silence them this time. “In the case of my defendant, as many of you may not know, she willingly dropped out of Hogwarts during her fifth year, and had her wand destroyed. Even less of you might know, that while she continued studying magic, she did so in a voluntary exile, not intentionally interacting with any Wizard or Witch for the next twenty five years, until her brush with the law in nineteen-sixty-eight. As a side note, the right of Hermitage does not exclude interacting with Muggles, in fact explicitly allowing it, due to the relation some hermits had with muggle courts and monarchies at the time of writing. Regardless, This means that Alice, by Right of Hermitage, was exempt from Wizarding law, her resisting arrest was her exercising her right to defend herself and her sovereignty, and Thus, the original offence was no crime, and the attempted arrest, as well as all subsequent ones, was unlawful.”

The resounding uproar resulted in Bones having to call recess.

Wixchak loved his job.

…After the trial resumed, various legal and historical records and documents were consulted, and the ICW charter thoroughly combed, it was concluded that not only was the right of hermitage legitimate, but it had indeed never been repealed, or altered to allow concessions for the statute of secrecy.

The prosecution had attempted to argue that the only reason the Right of Hermitage had no concessions to include the statute, was because it had not been invoked for a hundred years before the statute was proposed, and there had been no active or known hermits for at least fifty. 

“Its lack of inclusion was an oversight,” They had argued, stating that it would have been included had not the right of Hermitage been nothing but a legacy law at the time, and one that would surely be repealed now that it had been brought to light.

However, regardless of future repeals, the law is clear, and could not be changed mid trial. Thus Madam Bones, with obvious reluctance, and to much outcry, was forced to drop the charges against Alice Magatroid, allowing her to walk freely for the first time in over 20 years.

The next shock however came when Madam Bones cautioned Alice that they will be bringing this up during the next ICW meeting, and that such defence is unlikely to work a second time. The Witch, who had been largely silent through the trial, choosing to speak through her Lawyer, claimed that such concern was unnecessary, as she fully intended to rejoin wizarding society at the conclusion of her trial, thus ending her legal Hermitage.

When questioned as to this change of heart, she claimed it was because of her hitherto unknown daughter, who is of school age, and who Alice intends to send to Hogwarts this coming school year.

Alice herself had declined commenting to the press.

For a short Biography of Alice Magatroid, turn to page 6.

For a detailed breakdown and history of the Right of Hermitage, turn to page 9.

Richard Augur - Prophet Political Correspondent

“Oh, this really is a mess. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this Dumbledore.” Fudge fretted, dropping the paper on his desk to hold his head in his hands.

Right now, in the Office of the Minister for Magic, Sat the presiding Minister, Cornelius Fudge, accompanied by Professor Dumbledore, and The department head of magical law enforcement, Madam Bones.

“I understand it is far from ideal, Minister.” Dumbledore, said placatingly.

“That is putting it mildly.” Fudge frets some more. “This is reflecting very badly on the British Ministry I’ll have you know. Not only does it bring to attention that we failed to catch a single fugitive for nearly thirty years, now it turned out she wasn’t even a criminal in the first place. The Families of the dead Aurors are writing in, demanding either her head or ours, some both. The amount of letters lambasting the Ministry for such a massive legal oversight... I never would have allowed this trial to go public if I had known it would turn out like this.”

“Regardless, this trial was the best way to avoid future bloodshed, Alice is far too elusive and powerful to capture or otherwise stop. Alice has promised to cease her illegal activities, and thus not only can we protect the statute, we can also prevent any more law enforcement from dying by her hand.” Dumbledore said.

“But for how long, Dumbledore?” Madam Bones said tursely. “It is clear she holds little remorse for what she has done, how can we be sure she will stay cooperative after she gets what she wants?”

“Now, I taught Alice in school, and while we were never close, I probably know her better than most people could claim to. So let me assure you, that despite her criminal past, Alice is not a deceitful person, and prides herself on her honesty and integrity. She is perfectly willing to play by the rules while her daughter attends school.” Dumbledore said.

“And afterwards?” Madam Bones pushed.

“Afterwards she has expressed that she intends to ‘leave for Japan’, so she will no longer be in a position to cause problems.” Dumbledore said.

Madam Bones’s expression was blank for a moment, but quickly comprehended, and looked thoughtful.

Fudge however was just confused. “Going to Japan? Why would that make her less of a problem? Japan lacks a proper Ministry, so if anything would that not be a bigger concern?”

Dumbledore gave a little chuckle. “Forgive me, for I had forgotten that phrase had gone out of fashion in the last half-century. Back when I was younger, it meant to withdraw from the public, or to vanish without trace.”

“You see, just before my time, around eighteen eighty if I am not mistaken, the entire Japanese magical community, completely vanished, along with a majority of the magical beings and creatures that called Japan home, although it had always been fairly secular and uninterested in wider politics, so it took a while for anyone to notice.”

“All investigators found nothing, some even vanishing themselves, and many Japanese Wizards who were abroad at the time acted quite cagey about the whole affair, before many of them also vanished, leaving nothing but cryptic notes.”

“Though the disappearances eventually slowed down, many started using ‘going to Japan’ as a euphemism for an intention of vanishing without trace. Alice however claims to mean it literally, intending to go to Japan and disappear like the Japanese Wizards did all those years ago, at least, as soon as her daughter finishes her schooling.” Dumbledore concludes.

With a frown, Bones asked. “Does that mean she knows why the original disappearance occurred?”

“She is apparently unable to share the specifics, other than she is currently on a waiting list, and is very eager for the change in scenery.” Dumbledore said.

“A waiting list to disappear?” Fudge said, baffled.

“If I had to hazard a guess, it is probably some sort of secretive enclave or sanctuary for magicals, hidden away from both muggles and Wizards alike.” Dumbledore said. “Probably quite appealing for someone like Alice.”

“Let's get back on topic.” Madam Bones said, “I find it hard to believe someone so powerful and outspoken would submit herself to wizarding authority just to give her daughter a standard magical education, an education that she openly scorned I might add.” Madam Bones tapped the newspaper for emphasis.

“As unlikely as it seems, we have no reason to doubt her.” Dumbledore said. “Alice, despite her fearsome reputation, is no Dark Lord, she has no desire to conquer or control. Indeed she could have probably been safely left alone were not the statute of secrecy so strict. At worst, she will be a vocal critic of wizarding society in general and the statute of secrecy in particular, but is unlikely to get any traction due to her outspoken nature and criminal history. Beyond that however she is a woman of her word, and will honour the agreement to stay within the statute of secrecy while her daughter attends Hogwarts.”

“But beyond even that, she is a woman who loves her daughter, and would not do anything to endanger her, that I have no doubt.” Dumbledore said.

“Ah, indeed, the daughter,” Fudge interjected. “What can we expect from her? Will she likely be problematic like her mother?”

“Well I’m afraid I know very little of the girl beyond her name,” Dumbledore said. “London Margatroid to be exact. All I can say is that she is likely to be as problematic as any child her age, and is currently eagerly preparing for her upcoming school year.”

London sulked as she was led down the steps of Gringotts by her Mother, a grumpy pout on her face, despite the purse full of inherited wealth in her pocket.

“Come now London dear, no need to be so gloomy, Wizard school won’t be so bad, you just got to give it a chance.” Alice said, trying to perk her daughter up.

London bit back her first response of “If it wasn’t so bad, then why did you leave?” But once more this was a battle long lost, and instead gave a resigned, “Yes Mother.” 

Alice sighed, wondering if she had already reached that rebellious age.

It was still quite early in the morning, the usual hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley absent to be replaced with the few early birds, and others like them, getting their shopping done early to avoid the crowds.

In addition to this, Alice had decided to pre-empt the official Hogwarts letter and get the majority of her school shopping done early. While there were some things like Potions supplies and booklists that would have to await the official letter, there was plenty that could be done without it, and most importantly, the ones that Hailey had to specifically be here for, the uniform and the wand, could be done now without the letter, meaning that Alice could do any further shopping on her own, without exposing London to the public or press unnecessarily, who will no doubt be hankering to get a glimpse, both of the daughter of Alice, and the girl who lived, without even knowing they were one and the same.

With that in mind she made a beeline for ‘Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions’, in order to get it out of the way.

“Come on London, first stop is picking up your school uniform.” Alice said, leading the way.

“Why? Can’t we just make our own uniforms?” London asked. After all her mother had made all of her clothes growing up, she doesn’t see why that has to change now. Regardless, she fell in step with Alice.

“Unfortunately there are a few specific enchantments on the Hogwarts robes that I lack the knowledge to replicate, most specifically the ones that change the robes colour to match your School house.” Alice explained. “Rather than trying to figure them out on my own, it is far more practical to just buy a pair.”

The shop bell rang as they stepped into the cosy little shop, with Alice leading.

A friendly looking woman bustled up to them “Hello dears, how may I…”

She trailed off a little when she caught sight of who had stepped into her shop.

Alice ignored the uncomfortable atmosphere and pushed on as if the woman hadn’t frozen when she recognised her. “Hello, Madam Malkins I assume? I am here to get my Daughter fitted for her school robes.”

She put her hand on London's shoulder and brought her forward a little bit as if to present her,

This seemed to have done the trick and the woman, while still obviously a little tense, unfroze and started speaking. “Err-oh yes of course, School robes… right this way please.”

London stepped forward and stepped onto the stool as directed, and Madam Malkins slipped a loose robe over her head and began measuring.

“Er, Getting your shopping done early are you?” Madam Malkins said, perhaps in an attempt to fill the silence and steady her nerves.

After glancing at her mother to see if she was going to say anything, London then replied. “Yes, Mother thought it best to avoid the school rush, and get as much shopping done as possible before the letter arrives, to avoid the crowds.”

“I see… That is… probably for the best, the preterm rush can get quite busy.” Madam Malkins said.

“It was also because she doesn’t want us to get buried in gawkers and rubberneckers.” London said, withholding a shrug, “What with her being in the news recently.”

“Also, probably quite prudent.” Madam said, eyes darting in Alice's direction, as she was checking out some of the display pieces in the store with a critical eye.

There was a moment of silence in which she kept measuring and pinning, before she said. “You are very cooperative, I’m used to most children fidgeting if they have to stand still for so long.”

At this London did shrug. “I have a lot of practice being fitted.”

After this Alice decided to bring them to Olivanders, the wandmaker.

London regarded the pokey shop with curiosity, the strange stifling atmosphere and the strong undercurrent of the arcane putting her in mind of Patchouli’s library, although far more compact.

Alice However only looked at it with a mild nostalgia.

“Good Afternoon.”

London nearly jumped at the old man who almost felt like he appeared out of nowhere.

His silver eyes regarded London with open curiosity. “Well now… this is a surprise. I had been expecting you, of course… but not quite like this.”

He seemed to stop and think for a moment.

He then shook his head. “No matter, I am Olivander, Wandmaker, of whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

A little weirded out, London said. “I thought you said you had been expecting me, yet you don’t know my name?”

“Names are a funny thing.” Olivander said, airily. “Despite knowing who you are, I cannot claim to know your name, at least, the one you might be using at present.”

At this Alice stepped forward, managing to pick up on the implication. “Her Name is London Margatroid.” She said politely, but firmly.

“I see… that explains why you are here. It is a pleasure to see you again Alice.” Ollivander said, jovially.

“The pleasure is Mine, Olivander,” Alice said, giving a bow. “Your work, and dedication to your craft has always been an inspiration.”

London looked up at her mother, surprised at the genuine praise, before hastily mirroring her mothers bow, not wishing to be rude to someone her mother clearly holds in high regard.

 With a small chuckle, he bowed in return. “You honour me with such praise, Seven colour puppeteer, it's always a pleasure to meet a fellow craftsman.” He then massaged his chin in thought. “If I recall yours was a Sycamore, nine inches, Arachne hair, very fine… Awful shame about it being destroyed.”

“I suppose, But while it was a blow, it might have been for the best.” Alice responded. “Not to diminish your craft, but I like to think I became a better magician because of it.”

“Do not be so quick to dismiss it, Miss Margatroid.” Olivander said knowingly. “While wands may be a crutch to most, it can be a powerful tool in the right hands.”

“Perhaps.” Alice conceded. “But what's done is done, no use wondering on the ifs and what's.”

“Indeed,” Olivander said, giving her a searching look. “I don’t suppose they let you keep the pieces, did they?”

Alice chose not to answer that, and instead put her hand on London's shoulder. “I am here today to get London's school wand.”

Olivander, rather than get thrown off by the topic change, he simply and smoothly swapped his focus back to London. “Ah yes, of course, step this way please.”

Bringing London into a slightly more spacious piece of floor in the cramped shop, he said. “Hold out your wand arm.”

London, assuming he meant her Dominant hand, raised his right arm.

Despite just having been measured not too long ago, London was somewhat thrown off by the seemingly nonsensical measurements the enchanted tape measure was taking, measuring everything from arm span to nostril gap.

“Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Margatroid. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”

 London however, was more fixated on the bizarre measuring “Then what has these measurements got to do with wands?” London said, confused.

“Both more and less than people think.” Olivander said unhelpfully. “That's enough.”

At that, the measuring tape ceased its cryptic activity, and Olivander handed her a wand, from one of the endless shelves.

“Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring, nine inches, nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

London glanced at the wand in her hand, and even she could tell it was wrong, it just felt completely off in her hand. Nevertheless she gave it a little wave, and Olivander took it back quickly.

What followed was an extended session of trying wand after wand of varying combinations of components, lengths and properties. While it was a little tedious, London did find herself more fascinated then frustrated, at the various feels and makes of wands passing through her hands. They all felt wrong, but to what way, and what degree varied in various subtle ways. On top of that, despite the essential simplicity of what a wand was, each was clearly the work of a true craftsman, which did help London understand her mothers respect for the Wandmaker, he clearly knew his craft.

So she patiently let him give and take wands from her, and as the reject pile mounted up, she started trying to guess what her ideal wand might be based on Olivanders descriptions and the reactions she felt when she held one. By the time Olivander had paused to think, she had narrowed it down to Phoenix feather, somewhere between twelve to seven inches, and possibly a type of Holly.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere... I wonder, now... yes, why not? unusual combination, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

On top of feeling a little smug on being on the right track on her guesses, the minute it entered her grip, she knew it was the one. With a confident Flick she sent a quick cascade of sparks into the air, that hovered and glittered like stars.

Ollivander clapped, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well well well... How curious... How very curious…”

He took the Wand and boxed it gently, all while muttering “Curious.”

“Is something the matter?” London asked. From what she had deduced, it had been the perfect fit. Was there something she wasn’t aware of?

Mr. Ollivander fixed London with his pale stare. “I remember every wand I've ever sold, Ms. Margatroid. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather, just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother... Why, its brother gave you that scar.”

London reflexively covered her forehead.

“It's not showing London, Olivander is just far too perceptive.” Alice said, placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, before turning to Olivander. “Is that something to be worried about?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. But Lord Voldemort did many great things… Terrible of course, but nonetheless great.” Olivander said, placing the wand box in London's hand, closing it around it. “Perhaps We can expect great things from you too London.”

There was a thoughtful pause before Olivander said. “That will be seven Galleons please.”

And just like that, the moment passed.

As they exited the shop, the lengthy wand testing had taken up more time then Alice had anticipated, and the street was starting to fill up.

What's more, more and more people were starting to notice her, and more importantly London.

“It seems we will have to wrap up shopping today, it might be time to go home.” Alice said, heading back towards the Leaky Cauldron. She had hoped to eliminate several of the more general supplies today, like cauldrons and telescopes, but such is life.

London, who was staring down thoughtfully at the wand in her hand, came back from whatever cloud her thoughts had been occupying, and with a note of dread, asked. “Do we have to take the Floo back?”

For the trip here they had taken a three stop journey to get from a public floo in Romania to The Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley, and London had thoroughly hated it.

“I’m Sorry, I know it's uncomfortable, but it is much quicker, and it's harder for anyone to follow us home through the multiple international Floo connections.” Alice said, sympathetically.

London repressed a groan.

“Look at it like this Dear,” Alice said, “The less time we spend getting home, the sooner we can start on the doll.”

At this London perked up considerably, and even started leading the way on the way back to the rather dingy pub.

Alice could only smile at her enthusiasm. While she had been hesitant to get London too involved in Dollmaking, lest she feel compelled to pursue it simply because Alice did, now that London was on her way to School she had finally caved into London's desire to help her make her very own doll.

Bonus:

“Mother?” London asked as she started her first draft of the technical drawings for her Doll.

“Yes London, is there a problem?” Alice asked, glancing over her shoulder to see if there was anything she was stuck with.

“Oh, no problem.” London said, shaking her head. “I was just curious about something. You avoided answering about what happened to your wand pieces… What did happen to them?”

Alice gave a little cheeky smile. “Oh I wonder~” She said, before looking across the room.

London followed her gaze to one of Alices Shanghai Dolls idly patrolling the room…

…No, The Shanghai Doll, the one that was always around Mother, and which apparently all the others were based, and like many of her Dolls, was made of Sycamore wood…

Like her Wand had been.

Well, that one has always been a little quirky.

Chapter Text

London, with a sense of satisfaction, held up her finished doll.

It had taken several weeks, all of her focus and skill, and no small amount of trial and error, as evidenced by the small pile of reject doll parts in the corner, but now she held the mostly finished product in her hands. And while it might pale in comparison to her mothers dolls, it still put any factory made or store-bought doll to shame.

Alice, detecting a sense of finality, took a moment to examine her daughter's work.

It was unclothed of course, its polished wooden body featureless but gently curved in a suggestion of femininity, and coated in a thin layer of skin toned paint. Its dress hung on a rack nearby, also sewn by London. London carefully tested its various joints and articulation, making sure it had a full range of movement. Its blank glass eyes were painted a vivid green to match London's own, however, as opposed to black hair, it had a wig of bright red hair tied with a green ribbon. On its back was a cylindrical hole where the enchanting mediums would be placed. For now though, it was inanimate.

Alice couldn’t help but feel proud of her daughter. While London had not done it entirely on her own—Alice had been supervising whenever she had been handling sharp implements, and had done any of the jobs that were too dangerous for an eleven year old, like firing the dolls porcelain face in the kiln, and she was going to do the actual enchanting, it was still mostly London’s labour that had shaped this doll. And while it was nowhere near her personal standard, in Alice's eyes it was an irreplaceable treasure, her daughter’s first, and depending on what path she eventually decides to take in life, possibly only doll.

A part of her wanted to put it in a glass case to keep it pristine forever. But she knew that that is not what London would want, or the doll. While she understood that even her magical dolls were not alive (at least not yet) she held it dear to her heart that every doll wanted to be played with and used.

Mentally shooing away her musings, she instead focused on London, who held the doll out to her, eyes full of expectation and anticipation.

With a chuckle, Alice took the doll and started examining it herself. After all, while it was a treasure without equal in her eyes, that was not the same as saying it was without flaw. London, on top of being her daughter, was also an aspiring artist and craftswoman, and she would be doing her a disservice if she did not examine it with a critical eye, and advise her how to improve in the future.

That said, there was very little for Alice to remark upon—London having workshopped and sought advice and approval at almost every step of the process, for every part. And while she had rarely gotten things right on the first try, as the pile of rejected parts could attest to, the individual components were all the best London could make, lacking any glaring imperfections to point out. The coatings of paint were also even and fairly uniform, with no obvious bumps or clumps that Alice could see, with little surprise as London had been painting as a hobby for several years now. Same could be said for the painted irises, and Alice held back the smile as she recalled finding London practising painting on the little glass marbles while holding a hand mirror in one hand, as she struggled to copy her own eye. Alice recalled telling her at the time to perhaps go for a more simplified, stylised eye rather than a photorealistic one.

Testing the articulation, she found that while it was a little stiffer than her dolls, at least for certain movements, it was nothing her animation enchantments could not handle, and could potentially lessen as the doll wore its joints in a little. She did however make a mental note to check a year or so down the line to see if they might need tightening, so they didn’t become too loose for the same reason. A little tug confirmed that the wig was properly attached, and brushing the bangs aside confirmed that it was not lopsided. With her magical eyes, she checked to see if all the magical components and channels were properly in place, and found them properly integrated.

All in all, Alice had very little to directly criticise. It was undoubtedly the work of an amateur, but a talented and meticulous one.

She smiled at London, who was still staring expectantly, awaiting the verdict. “While there is still plenty of room for improvement and refinement, your care and attention to detail has left me with very little to say. You have done a wonderful job, dear.”

London preened. “Does that mean you will enchant her now, Mama?”

Alice chuckled. “Of course London, Let’s not keep her waiting any longer.”

As London quickly went to fetch the doll’s dress, similar to most of Alice's doll dresses, but for forest green being the primary colour, Alice rested the doll gently upon a felt square on the work table, before retrieving a small box left to one side. Opening it revealed a small silver cylinder covered in tiny indistinct arcane script that seemed to shimmer even in the soft light of the workshop. On one end was a wooden stopper, painted in the same manner as Alice's dolls.

“If I may ask, London,” Alice said conversationally, as she pulled out a sheet of paper from a drawer, “What made you decide to go with red hair?”

She laid the paper flat next to the doll. On it was a complex magical circle, overlaid by two smaller empty circles. She placed the cylinder standing up right in the larger of the two.

London, who had been watching what she was doing with fascination, snapped back at Alice's question. “Oh, well… I thought it would be best to differentiate mine and your dolls, and hair colour was an obvious way of doing it at a glance, thus I couldn’t make them blond.” London said. “So I settled on red instead, as it's a nice hair colour.”

What went unsaid is that Hailey had so little affection for her own hair that she didn’t even consider making it black. Alice does sometimes worry that her fussiness with London’s unruly hair growing up had given her daughter a complex, but was never quite sure how to bring it up, and London tends to brush it off whenever someone mentions it.

So instead Alice nodded. “Understandable. Red hair can be quite striking when properly cared for. Can I have your hand for a moment?”

London dutifully held out her hand. Alice took it gently, and held it above the paper.

“This will sting a little,” Alice cautioned, picking a sharp needle she had sterilised beforehand, and holding it against London's Fingertip. “Are you ready?”

London tensed, but nodded as she braced herself for the prick.

She couldn’t stop the flinch as Alice's needle pierced the skin and withdrew. Alice then held the finger above the unoccupied circle as blood began to bead, just in time to catch the first drip.

She let it drip twice more, before dabbing the tiny puncture with a tissue, and applying a bandaid. “There we go. You were very brave.” Alice said, giving the finger a little kiss to make it better.

London just nodded as she held the pricked hand gingerly.

“Since we are nearly finished,” Alice said, trying to take London's mind off it, as she turned back to the work bench, “have you decided on a naming scheme yet?”

Alice then murmured an incantation under her breath, and the circle in front of her glowed, the blood then flowed across the page towards the silver cylinder, leaving not so much as a smear,  collecting at its base before coiling up along its surface, seemingly soaking into the metal, the tiny writing briefly glowing blue.

It wasn’t technically necessary for London to come up with an entire naming scheme, since despite how London might feel about it at the moment, it wasn’t set in stone that she would follow Alice's footsteps into making dolls or other constructs. But London had wanted a comprehensive version of Alice's creative process, thus a naming scheme was in order.

“Well…I had thought about it a little while…” London said, sounding a little bashful, “and I thought maybe… flowers? There are so many of them after all, that I’ll probably never run out of names, no matter how many dolls I name.” She trailed off to a mumble, worrying that it might have been a little bit basic of an answer.

Alice had slotted the cylinder into the hole in the doll's back, fitting snugly, to the point it was hard to tell it was even there. Then she laid the doll back down again.

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Alice said encouragingly, finding how bashful London was about it endearing. “With that in mind, what will this doll be called?”

Alice then prepared to lay down the final layer of enchantment, to finally animate the doll fully. However, London then caught Alice totally off guard.

“I was thinking of calling this one Lily.” London had said.

At Alice's surprised expression, London, feeling self conscious again, asked. “Is that not good?”

At this Alice mentally shook herself, and shook her head. “No, nothing is wrong, just got lost in thought for a moment… Lily will be a fine name I’m sure.”

To this she turned back to the doll, and held out her hands above it.

Speaking low, she intoned another, much longer incantation. Another magic circle, this time made of light appeared under the doll, as wisps of magic curled around her fingers, twisting down through the air and into the prone form of the doll. Various characters, from several different languages, ranging from Latin, to old Norse, ancient Hebrew, and Japanese, appeared in the circle, before floating up, and shooting themselves into the doll.

Then, as she spoke the final words of the incantation, the lights faded as quickly as they came, and Alice withdrew her hands.

Then the doll, Lily, sat up and, very slowly, turned its head until its glass eyes rested squarely on London.

London gave an excited intake of breath, before drawing close and lowering her head down to the doll’s level.

Giggling at her daughter's enthusiasm, Alice said. “And there we go, she’s finished and fully imprinted on you. She has most of the functions of any of my dolls, except she is exclusively yours, and will listen to you above all others, even me.”

London barely gave any acknowledgement that she was listening, so spellbound by the now animated doll. Her own work, granted movement.

Alice shook her head. “Go on, go play with your new friend. And get used to her functions and giving her commands. I’ll clean up.”

London, finally acknowledging her mother, nodded enthusiastically, scooping up the doll, and made to leave the workshop, but was stopped by her mother clearing her throat.

She turned around to her mothers amused expression, pointing down to the dress she had left on the bench. “Forgetting something?”

London looked down at the doll in her hand looking up at her impassively, still completely bare.

“Oh, right.” London said, flushing a little, walking back to the workbench, and putting the doll back down.

As London helped the doll into her dress, Alice mused on the choice of name. Despite giving London a vague idea on her background, she cannot recall ever telling London her birth mother’s name, nor that, to the best of Alice's knowledge, Lily Potter was a redhead whose striking green eyes she had inherited.

She watched London manage to pull the dress over the doll's head, before patting out any creases, and presenting the doll with her own tiny socks and shoes.

Alice shook her head, as the doll did its best to pull on the tiny foot coverings. Magic worked in mysterious ways after all, perhaps this way Lily Potter could continue to protect her child, even in death.

A few months, a letter, and a birthday later…

A few floo connections and a taxi-cab had seen to it that, on the first of September, no later than ten o’clock, Alice and London stood on the steps of King’s Cross station.

After the kind cab driver had helped carry her luggage up the steps and onto a provided trolley, the pair trundled through the busy train station toward the hidden platform nine and three-quarters.

“Now, the platform entrance is placed on the divider between nine and ten, behind a false wall.” Alice explained to London. “And there will likely be a lot of wizards dropping off their families. Many will probably recognise me from the paper, so we are likely to stand out a lot.”

London however, rather than respond to her mother’s warning, instead asked. “Why is it nine and three-quarters? Why not nine and a half?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Probably because some wizard thought it sounded more interesting.”

Promptly they reached the entrance, an unassuming brick wall on the platform divider, whose mundane appearance was completely spoiled by a man ahead of them calmly walking through it.

With a little prompting, Alice had London walk ahead, with her following close behind, and with little ceremony, stepped through the wall, and onto the platform itself.

London was greeted with a crowded platform filled to the brim with students and parents, all milling around and chatting in front of a large bright red steam engine, proudly embossed with the words Hogwarts Express in gold letters.

After clearing the threshold and stepping to one side so as not to block the entrance, Alice promptly conjured ten dolls into the air around her, and they quickly went to work, eight of which each positioned themselves around the trunk, and lifted it off the trolley and into the air, while the extra two grabbed the shiny cage in which sat a rather impressive snowy owl.

The owl, who had been named Hedwig, had been bought by Alice for London, so that they could maintain correspondence while she was at school. She had chosen her due to being unusually bright, even by the standards of a postal owl, and thought she might also make good company for London while she was at school. Alice had also bought herself one, a rather proud eagle-owl she had named Madrid, who was currently at home.

At this point people had started to notice Alice, and a hush seemed to settle over the crowd as people turned to nervously watch Alice as she directed her dolls.

As Alice went to approach the train, dolls in tow, the crowd parted in front of her, nobody wanting to stand in the dollmaker’s way.

London almost went to hide behind her mother, but after glancing up at her mother’s impassive countenance, she instead steeled herself, and walked beside her mother with a stiff upper lip, trying not to flinch at the flash of cameras as she passed. Her dignified imitation of her mother was spoiled somewhat by clutching Lily tightly to her chest.

Nevertheless, nobody dared to challenge their approach, and Alice swiftly boarded the train at the nearest entrance point, and quickly found an appropriate compartment.

Quickly, the dolls went to work, hauling the trunk into the luggage rack, squaring it away neatly, and four of which returned to Alice. The other four however instead opened the trunk, and neatly packed themselves inside, followed by the two handling the owl cage, who shut the trunk behind them.

While this was happening, Alice had turned to her daughter, who had started fidgeting nervously. “Now, those dolls have been instructed to listen to you while you are at school, but they are for emergency use only. For everything else you should be able to make do with Lily, alright?”

“Yes Mother,” London said, quietly.

“Since you have an owl, I’d like you to write to me often, once every two weeks at minimum, so I know how you are doing…” Alice continued, but was interrupted by London suddenly throwing herself at Alice, wrapping her arms around her mother in an almost desperate embrace.

“I’ll miss you Mama.” London said softly, all bravado and propriety gone in favour of the scared little girl, going away from home for the first time.

Alice was surprised for a moment, before softening, and gently returning the embrace. “I’ll miss you too, Dear.”

The moment the embrace loosened, Alice kneeled down and gave London a little peck on the cheek. “But I know you’ll do great, London, you are a very bright girl. I understand things won’t be easy for you, and if you really have a bad time, we will look into alternative schooling. But for now, I need you to be a big strong girl, and do your best, for me at least.”

London nodded, sniffling in her mother’s arms.

They stayed in each other's embrace until it was time for Alice to disembark. And even then, until the moment the train pulled out of sight, Alice stood there waving back at her daughter, who leaned out the window, tears in her eyes, likewise waving until they could no longer see one another.

It took quite a while for London, clutching Lily in her arms as she sat in her empty compartment, to get her sniffles under control,

Several people had peered into her compartment, presumably looking for seats, but one look at the gloomy, broody girl sitting there clutching her doll, had sent them all scarpering, especially those who had seen her with her mother on the platform.

No doubt word was already spreading that Alice's daughter was on the train.

London, now having regained a tenuous control of her emotions, went back to schooling her expression into the look of dignified indifference that her mother was famous for.

Just as she was checking herself in a compact mirror to check her expression, and see if there was any trace of the time she spent withholding tears, and not to mention checking if her hair was still behaving, the compartment door slid open.

“Excuse me,” said a girl with a mess of bushy brown hair, and some rather pronounced front teeth. “Do you mind if I sit in here?”

London did in fact mind somewhat, but she didn’t really see any polite way to refuse and continue hogging this otherwise empty compartment. “Feel free.”

The girl bustled in and sat opposite Hailey, and spoke quickly, with the slightly authoritative, bossy tone of those who the less charitable might refer to as a know-it-all. “Thank you, the compartment I had been in had gotten a little crowded and noisy. People are kicking up such a fuss I'll have you know, although honestly I can’t say I blame them, this is all very exciting. I’m surprised you have this cabin all to yourself. I’m Hermione Granger by the way, who are you?”

London blinked, not expecting the machine gun chatter, but quickly rallied and gave a quick half bow. “My name is London Margatroid, nice to meet you.”

The girl tilted her head. “Was that a bow? Is that a magical thing? I must admit I am very new to all this. Nobody in my family is magical after all, so it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but very pleased as you might imagine. I mean, magic, real magic? And a magical school no less—one of the best, I’ve heard.” There was a pause as Hermione seemed to rearrange her thoughts for a moment. “Should I be bowing to people? No book really mentioned it, but I’d hate to be rude by neglecting basic wizard manners.”

London, who was struggling to acclimatise to the energy she was being subjected to, eventually spoke. “Err, no, if you don’t want to. Bowing is more a magician thing, rather than a general wizard or witch thing.”

“Magician, like a performer?” Hermione asked, “Are those shows really magic? I was always told it was just sleight of hand, and I read in-”

London, a little annoyed, held up a hand to try and stem the incoming tide of words. “No, not a stage magician. I mean a real magician. Unlike an ordinary witch or wizard who uses magic as a matter of lifestyle or convenience, a magician is a pure practitioner of the arts, dedicated to self improvement, and the advancement of their craft.”

Hermione, rather than be put off by the interruption, seemed intrigued. “Oh, I had never heard about it used like that before. I would have thought someone might have mentioned it in Modern Magic History, or Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

“Well… it is a little bit of an antiquated term, I admit.” London said, reluctantly. “There aren't a lot of people using it these days.” She perked up a little. “But still, my mother is one of the best there is, and taught me all the traditional etiquette.”

“Oh? Who is she? I might have read about her somewhere.” Hermione said, seemingly a little excited.

Now, Alice had advised her that perhaps it would be best for London to, while not necessarily keep it secret, but at least not to openly advertise who her mother was, as it might put people on guard and potentially close doors before people can really get used to her as a person.

However, London refused to be ashamed of who her mother was, and instead answered boldly “Alice Margatroid.”

However, instead of perhaps fear or rejection, Hermione only frowned in thought, before saying, “Hm, no, I’m afraid it doesn’t sound familiar. What does she do?”

London, a little disappointed, supposed that Alice's deeds had yet to earn her a place in the history books.

“My mother specialises in dolls and puppetry, as a matter of fact.” London said, who despite herself, was starting to enjoy the conversation, as she rarely got to brag about her mother to others. Mother didn’t want anyone linking the two together and potentially painting a target on London after all.

Hermione tilted her head. “Really? I must say, that sounds surprisingly ordinary.”

With a little huff, London let go of Lily, who floated into the air.

Allowing herself a little smug smirk at Hermione's surprise, she said, “Hermione, this is Lily, a doll I made with my mother.”

Lily did a little curtsy.

At London's command, Lily then did a little jig in the air to Hermione's further surprise, while London explained. “Each one of my mother’s dolls is a semi-autonomous animated magical construct. And while you may see plenty of animated constructs around, my mothers are a cut above the rest in quality, sophistication, and utility, and they can perform complex actions with only minimal prompting, and instruction.”

“Wow, your mother made that?” Hermione said, watching the doll’s little dance.

“Actually I made this one… mostly. Mother did all the enchantments and such,” London said proudly. “The ones my mother makes are even better than this one.”

She considered pulling out one of Alice's dolls out of her trunk, but decided this did not constitute enough of an emergency to do so.

Still, Hermione was clearly impressed, and London's mood had improved markedly after being able to talk about her mother for a while. London spent some time showing off various tricks she had been teaching Lily, until the snack cart arrived, which resulted in London, out of the novelty of buying things by herself, buying a few things to try, which she ended up sharing with Hermione.

Hermione, as they partook in a rather sugary meal, started talking about herself. How she was from a non-magical family, and her parents were dentists, but mostly about how excited she was for school, and more specifically learning magic.

“I mean, it's all just so interesting.” Hermione said, “I’ve of course read through all my coursebooks of course, and I bought plenty more besides, so I can learn as much as I can about being a witch. I’ve even tried out a spell or two at home. I really can’t wait to learn more. What about you, what was it like to grow up magical?”

A bit more reserved, London nevertheless gave her a truncated rundown of her own background. “Well despite my mother being a magical, I’ve spent most of my childhood moving around mundane Europe, currently eastern Europe. I’m mostly going to Hogwarts because I am still technically a British citizen.”

“Mundane Europe?” Hermione queried.

“Mundane is what my mother calls non-magicals.” London explained. “By mundane Europe, I mean the non magical parts of it.”

“Oh, in all the books they call them Muggles.” Hermione said.

“Yes, but my mother prefers mundanes because it sounds less demeaning, and actually means something.” London said.

Hermione thought about it. “Hm. Yes, I think I can see what you mean.” Hermione then switched gears, “So why is that, why did you mostly live with non-magicals? Is it the same reason you move around a lot?”

“In a sense…” London said, noncommittally.

At that moment, as had happened several times during the conversation, some people peered into the compartment, before ducking away again when London glanced at them.

Hermione had started noticing as well. “Are you famous? People seem to keep trying to get a look at you.”

“Well, it's more my mother…” London hesitated for a moment, as she had been enjoying the conversation up until this point, and was therefore less blasé than she had been at potentially alienating Hermione earlier.

Nevertheless, Hermione was going to hear about it eventually regardless of what London said, and she might as well hear it from her first, so she pushed on. “You see, my mother got into a little trouble with the British Ministry several years ago, for putting on a puppet show for mundane children, breaking the Statute of Secrecy. It had only recently been resolved by an antiquated law, so she's fairly hot news right now.”

Hermione, to Hailey's surprise, rather than asking any of the questions she was expecting, asked, “Oh, what sort of antiquated law? I haven’t done much research on wizarding law yet.”

London cocked her head, before shaking her head, and answering. “It was called the Right of Hermitage, and it's a piece of legacy international law that was never amended or repealed. It means that a witch or wizard, provided they maintain an intentional isolation from wizarding society for a period of at least half a decade, they are granted personal sovereignty and immunity from being charged or prosecuted for anything but really severe crimes, and the right to defend that sovereignty by any means they deem fit. It basically meant that they had no right to charge mother for breaking the statute of secrecy.”

“Fascinating, it sounds like a legal drama!” Hermione said, excited, before frowning in thought. “That seems like a really big oversight to have though, it sounds like that could very easily be abused by bad people and criminals.”

“Well, as I understand, the right of hermitage only protects you from offenses you commit after your immunity starts, and not before, and the minute you intentionally re-enter wizarding society, you lose the immunity, so you couldn’t just become a hermit, then go rob gringots, because to do so, you’d have enter Diagon Alley, and therefore wizarding society. So, it's pretty hard to actively perform criminal acts against other wizards without losing your hermitage. It mostly protects the hermit from having wizarding law forced on them. It's also a really old law.” London explained. “Regardless, there has been an ongoing debate in the International Confederation of Wizards about the Right of Hermitage, on whether the right should be amended to add breaches of the Statute of Secrecy to the list of non-exempt laws, or to purge the right of hermitage from the charter entirely, as its reason for being is not relevant to current wizarding society. There have been no active or recognised hermits in the modern era, they did not even know my mother fell under it until it went to court.”

“I see…” Hermione said. “Still, it seems like a fairly big deal to make out of a puppet show.”

London nodded. “I think so too, but wizarding society takes the Statute of Secrecy far too seriously if you ask me, even if it's just giving some mundane children a harmless magical experience.”

“Well, they must have a good reason for it, surely.” Hermione offered, matter of factly.

London on the other hand scoffed. “I doubt it. The Statute is pointless if you ask me.”

Hermione gave London a lopsided look, before she visibly realised something. “But wait, you said this took several years to resolve. How did it take this long to sort out? Did they try to contest her hermitage?”

“Err… Not quite.” London said, awkwardly. Despite being one of the questions she originally anticipated, it was still one that was a little more difficult to explain. “You see… my mother… refrained from coming to court until earlier this year.”

At Hermione’s stunned, incredulous expression, London quickly said. “Well, she was a hermit, she didn’t actually need to, did she? She was within her rights to resist arrest, and protect her sovereignty. She had not participated in wizarding society for decades at that point, why should she be beheld to wizarding law?”

“But… but…” Hermione stuttered, struggling to wrap her head around that.

At this point, another person peered into the compartment, but instead of retreating when noticed, this person opened the door and entered the cabin.

It was a pale skinned boy, with even paler blond hair, with a certain swagger to his steps. Behind him were two large thickset boys, who remained standing outside the compartment at either side of the door, like bodyguards.

The blonde boy quickly glanced around the compartment, eyes briefly resting on Hermione, before fully turning his focus to London.

“Forgive me for interrupting, but am I speaking to the daughter of Alice Margatroid?” He said, the polite address at odds with the drawl in his voice.

London, detecting this is a somewhat formal enquiry, stood up and gave a half bow. “You are, I am London Margatroid, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” The boy said, returning the gesture. “And the pleasure is all mine, I assure you.”

London notes how his eyes flickered briefly to Lily, who was hovering at her side.

“And how may I help you, Malfoy? My companion and I were just engaging in conversation, but we can certainly spare you a moment.” London said, crisp and polite.

Malfoy’s brow visibly creased when he glanced once again at Hermione, but refocused on London and continued. “Yes, I apologise for entering unannounced, It was far from my intention to interrupt you and your… companion. I was merely going up the train introducing myself to people of note, and my father has spoken highly of your mother, so I thought it important to pay respects.”

London raised her eyebrow ever so slightly. “In that case it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Malfoy. While I am currently occupied, I would be more than willing to talk more at a later date.”

“Likewise. I look forward to seeing more of you at school.” Malfoy said, half-bowing again. “Have a pleasant trip.”

“And you as well,” London said, returning the gesture.

The boys left, and London, feeling proud of how she conducted herself, sat down again in her seat.

“Sorry for the interruption, where were we?” London asked, who knew, but was privately hoping Hermione had forgotten.

“Is that sort of exchange normal? I thought you said bowing was a magician thing?” Hermione asked, and London gave an internal sigh of relief that the interruption allowed her to skim across the more awkward topic.

“No, it's definitely a magician thing, it's just likely that the boy's father knew that my mother, despite being self taught, is well versed in classical magician’s etiquette. With that he surmised that I would probably be taught in that manner, and prepared his son according to my mother’s preferred address. In classical training, the bow is a sign of mutual respect between equals, as a magician acknowledges no hierarchy beyond knowledge and prowess in the arcane.”

“That was thoughtful of them.” Hermione said.

“It was more likely politically motivated than not.” London corrected. “My mother’s strength is well known, but she is quite reclusive, as you have probably gathered. This was most likely his father trying to curry favour with my mother, or possibly just wishing to show respect so as to avoid possible conflict.”

London then quickly checked to see if anyone was at the door, and leaned in and spoke quietly. “I’d also watch yourself around him, I think he might be a bigot.”

Hermione, looking very taken aback, asked, “What? Why would you think that? And why me?”

“He barely acknowledged you throughout that entire conversation, and spoke not a single word to you. Not exactly what I’d call polite.” London said.

She then leaned back into her chair, and spoke more generally. “Wizarding society as a whole, at least in the older, more established communities like England tend to have archaic aristocratic structures, with strong emphasises on family pedigree, and blood purity. Thus there is no small amount of people who look down on people like you who are born into mundane families, whose magical blood is fresh.”

“Really?” Hermione, suddenly looking very nervous. “How bad is it?”

London shrugged. “I’m just repeating what my mother told me, and she hasn’t been actively participating in wizarding society for nearly fifty years by now. It could be better, or worse.”

Catching on to Hermione's fresh anxiety, and feeling a little bad at possibly puncturing the girl's earlier enthusiasm for school, tried to reassure her. “I don’t think you need to worry too much about it though, there will be plenty of other fresh blooded students like you at school, so you won’t be alone. I also understand that the headmaster Dumbledore is very progressive in his politics, and very open minded, so you are unlikely to face open persecution or bullying. I’m just giving you a little forewarning.”

The compartment then opened again, and an older student, already in uniform and with a badge with the letter P on it, spoke. “Excuse me girls, the train is approaching Hogwarts, so you’d best get changed into your uniforms now.”

“Alright. Thank you sir,” London said.

The boy looked taken aback when he noticed who was addressing him, but quickly shook his head and moved on.

“I left my trunk in the other compartment, but can I get changed in here? My first compartment had boys in it.” Hermione asked.

“Go ahead,” London said, and Hermione quickly left.

London got her own clothes out of her trunk, but knowing Hermione was coming back she held off on changing until she got back, as she didn’t want the door to open mid undress.

She didn’t have to wait long, as Hermione arrived promptly, and after shutting the curtains on the door, they began changing, with London being assisted by Lily.

“That seems handy,” Hermione said, struggling to remove her jumper as her hair fought against her.

“I think so too,” London said, being a lot more careful as she undressed, unwilling to potentially smear her makeup or mess up her painstakingly straightened hair. “I can dress by myself if I need to, but it is easier with help.”

“Magic must make so many things easier,” Hermione said, a bit of her earlier enthusiasm returning.

Down to her underclothes, Hermione held up her Hogwarts uniform, and looked at it critically. “Now that I look at it, our uniforms are a lot less colourful than the older students, why is that?”

“Our uniforms' trimmings change colour when we get sorted into our house,” London supplied, securing her skirt, while Lily buttoned up her shirt.

“Oh, of course, houses! I almost forgot,” Hermione said enthusiastically, doing up her tie. “Do you have any idea how the sorting takes place? The books I read on the subject felt almost intentionally vague.”

“It is, in fact, intentional to my understanding. They want to preserve a sense of mystique around the process for the younger children, to make it more exciting,” London said, doing the same. “As for how it works, mother said you have to wear a magical singing hat, and it will tell you what house you are in.”

Hermione gave her a quizzical look.

London shrugged. “I did ask if she was joking.”

Hermione then returned to pulling on the school robe. “Well, what house do you think you will be sorted into? I think I might end up in Ravenclaw, but I am hoping for Gryffindor. Apparently Dumbledore himself was one.”

“I haven’t really given it much thought myself,” London admitted, straightening up her hair ribbon, as Lily fussed with her robe.

“Why not?” Hermione asked.

“I kind of stopped thinking about it when I was told a singing hat was in charge,” was London's deadpan response.

The pair looked at each other, before breaking into giggles.

Internally however, London doubted this little camaraderie with the bookish, slightly bossy sounding, and inquisitive girl would really last, especially after it started circulating about how exactly Alice resisted arrest. But she surprised herself in how much she hoped it did.

Then again, if it didn’t, it could be a lonely school year.

Chapter Text

It was dark out when the train arrived at the station. Stepping on to the platform, London and Hermione found themselves swept up by the passage of the students as they disembarked.

Then a lantern made itself visible from above the flow of students, illuminating a giant of a man with a bushy black beard and mane of hair.

“First years, this way! First years!” He bellowed over the general chatter, beckoning with his arm.

“That will be us then,” London said, and the girls squeezed their way through the crush of students toward the giant, arriving with a bunch of other kids in the plain robes, signifying them as fellow new students.

“C’mon, follow me, any more first years? Mind yer step now! First years, follow me!” The man, once he seemed to be satisfied that he had everyone, led them down a path through the trees.

London plodded along with the others, clutching Lily to her chest so as not to spook the other kids. However it seemed that in the gloom, and now that she was dressed in uniform, it seemed that people didn’t even offer her a second glance, no longer recognising her as her mother’s daughter. It was somewhat of a relief to not be the centre of attention again, although she suspected it wouldn’t last.

Eventually the trees parted to reveal a massive lake, with a surface as smooth as glass. And perched on a crag on the opposite side was a large castle.

She heard Hermione behind her gasp at the sight, and even she had to admit it was impressive.

It resembled a late medieval castle, more in the French or Germanic style then English, with many high turrets with conical roofs, and it sprawled across its rocky perch as opposed to squatting atop it. London found herself approving, as while British castles had their charms, they tended to be more boxy, utilitarian, and aggressive.

It did make her question the supposed age of the castle though, as with this style, it couldn’t be more than four hundred years old. Perhaps it had been renovated.

“Only four to a boat,” The giant said, drawing everybody's attention to a collection of small rowboats, sans oars, sitting on the shore.

London and Hermione glanced at each other, before shrugging, clambering into a boat together before they all got full.

Joined by two other students, they watched as the large man stepped into a boat of his own, before the entire fleet took off together, and travelled silently across the lake towards the looming castle.

Everyone was silent for the journey as they drank in the view, until they were right up to the cliffside.

“Heads down everyone,” The Giant called, as they approached a cave in the cliff under the castle, half obscured by creeping vines, to which they all complied.

Passing under the rocks they found themselves in a small underground harbour, where the boats moored themselves quietly.

After a brief pause where a boy’s lost toad was returned to him, the man led them out a tunnel onto the lawn, and from there onto a flight of stone steps, leading to the doors of the castle.

With an air of ceremony, he knocked on the large oak doors.

There was a brief pause, before the door opened, revealing a tall, severe looking woman in a pointed hat and a stern expression.

“The first years, Professor McGonagall,” The Giant said.

The woman, now known to be Professor McGonagall, surveyed the first years, for a moment, and London took the opportunity to do the same to her. She had heard the name of course, it was on her Hogwarts letter, so she knew this to be the deputy headmistress.

Their eyes met for a moment, and they held their gaze, seemingly measuring each other up, before McGonagall turned to the Giant man. “Thank you Hagrid, I will take it from here.”

‘So his name was Hagrid,’ London thought, making a mental note, as she and the other first years were led into the castle itself.

Led into a small room off the main hall, the professor turned to address them.

“Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.” 

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.” 

“The sorting ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

The professor once more surveyed the students, this time with a more critical eye, obviously finding some in need of smartening. “I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

With that McGonagall left the nervous throng of students alone.

“This is quite exciting isn’t it?” Hermione said quietly beside her, before she noticed that London had pulled out a compact mirror. “What are you doing?”

“Just checking my hair, it has a habit of misbehaving when I’m not looking,” London said. examining herself in the tiny mirror.

Hermione watched, a little surprised as London tried and failed to smooth out her persistent cowlick, before listening in to some of the surrounding chatter, mostly speculating about the Sorting.

“Should we tell them?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Let them have their fun, they will find out soon enough,” London said, giving up, and putting away the compact. “Besides, I’m not sure if the teachers will be grumpy at us for spoiling the surprise.”

Hermione’s eyes widened for a moment, probably not even having considered that as a possibility, and stood ramrod straight with her mouth closed firmly.

London couldn’t help but softly giggle at the girl's silent panic at having almost (potentially) broken the rules.

There was then a shriek among the other first years, and they looked up to see some ghosts having drifted through the wall, having not noticed the first years, so absorbed in their conversation.

“Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance,” said a rather portly little monk-looking fellow.

“My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves?” Said a rather dashing man in Elizabethan dress. “He gives us all a bad name, and you know, he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?” he said, noticing the first years.

London wondered if anyone else was going to answer, but the monk answered first. “New students—about to be sorted I suppose?”

A few people nodded mutely.

London was merely watching with interest, as this was the first time she had seen one, nobody had mentioned the castle was haunted.

She also couldn’t help but giggle again at Hermione's fascinated expression. She was starting to get a better idea of why her mother put on puppet shows for mundane kids, the looks of wonder on Hermione and some of the other students at the blatantly magical felt like a panacea for the soul. She could even tell at a glance who came from mundane families just by some of the reactions.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the Friar. “My old house, you know.”

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice, “the Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

McGonagal had returned, and the ghosts took it as their cue to continue through the opposite wall.

“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, “and follow me.”

London and Hermione promptly fell into line. They were led back into the main hall, and from there, to another impressive set of double doors.

Through there, they stepped into the great hall, a massive dining room filled with students. The students were divided into four massive tables, each decorated with the livery of one of the houses, with a fifth table housing what must have been the teachers and staff.

Dumbledore sat in the middle of the table, looking out across the room and smiling with pride at the students laid before him, feeling quite different to the somewhat tired looking old man she had met in her loungeroom. 

“Look at the ceiling,” Hermione whispered to her.

London did so, and for a moment, she thought there was no ceiling at all, with many candles hovering under what appeared to be the starry sky. However the telltale hints of magic lead her to believe it not to be the case.

Hermione confirmed it by whispering, “It's bewitched to look like the night sky—I read about it in Hogwarts: a History.”

“It leaves quite the impression,” London whispered back, before focusing on where she was going.

They were then lined up in front of the teachers’ table, facing the rest of the students.

She felt herself clutching Lily tighter and tried to force herself to relax. She was the daughter of the Seven Colour Puppeteer, she would not be intimidated by a room full of magical neophytes.

…

She hoped her cowlick wasn't too obvious.

She was distracted, as was everybody, by McGonagall placing a stool in front of them, and on it…

London had first mistaken it as a pile of old rags. It wasn’t until it lifted itself up that she realised that it was in fact a banged up old wizard’s hat.

Time had clearly not been kind to this mangy old piece of headwear, seemingly patched and stitched in so many places that she wondered if any of the original hat was even left.

However, this could have been nothing else but the aptly named Hogwarts sorting hat.

It then started to sing.

“Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry 

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true 

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands, though I have none,

For I'm a thinking cap!”

London clapped along with everybody else at the hat’s surprisingly fun little ditty, although not a little self consciously, as that first line or two almost felt directed at her.

On the other hand, several of the other first years were quite relieved by the reveal, apparently having expected some kind of test, with one student complaining about his brothers telling him he had to fight a troll.

She wondered if this was perhaps the point, to get the children so worked up about the sorting, believing it to be a test of some sort, only to dispel their nerves with the reveal of the sorting hat, so that they didn’t stop to question having their mind read by a singing hat.

With that said, it now looked to be that time, as McGonagall had procured a long roll of parchment from somewhere. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” said McGonagall, before perusing the list in front of her. “Abbott, Hannah!”

A blond girl with pigtails stepped forward, looking nervous. She put on the hat, it falling down over her face as it was far too big, and sat on the stool.

There was a pause before the Hat bellowed, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table on the far right cheered and clapped, as the girl stood up, and walked over to her new housemates, the trimmings on her robe turning yellow.

McGonagall then read the next name off her list. “Bones, Susan!”

London watched with interest as the chestnut haired girl also got sorted into Hufflepuff, followed by a “Boot, Terry!” who became a Ravenclaw.

The Hat seemed to vary the time it took to sort its students, some being almost the moment the Hat touched its head, while others took up to a minute before the Hat declared their house.

The list seemed to be last name alphabetical, which meant that she would not be up until the ‘M’s which meant her name will be a while yet, however, this was not the case for…

“Granger, Hermione!” Mcgonnagall called, and the girl eagerly went up to the stool, and jammed the hat on so forcefully that it made London wince. You should not be treating a hat that decrepit-looking that roughly, she thought.

It took a moment before the Hat declared her a “GRYFFINDOR!”

Hermione took the hat off and looked back at London happily, before walking to the Gryffindor table, the trimmings of her Robes turning red and gold.

London politely clapped along with the Gryffindor table. Good for her, she had wanted to be in Gryffindor after all.

The sorting continued until it finally reached the ‘M’s. Beginning with a ‘MacDougal’, followed up by a ‘MacMillan’ it then arrived on the boy she had talked to on the train. “Malfoy, Draco!” 

The boy almost swaggered onto the seat, and the hat barely even touched his head before the hat called out “SLYTHERIN!” The boy seemed quite pleased with the result, as he left for his table.

London was caught wondering how many people this year happened to have surnames starting with M-A as Rodger Malone was leaving for his table, that she almost missed her own name getting called. “Margatroid, London!”

There was a hush across the hall as the name was called, followed by murmuring.

London did her best to ignore them and strode calmly to the stool, and—mindful of the decrepit nature of the hat—gingerly pulled it over her head, plunging her into darkness.

The hat chuckled. “Well, it's been a while since I was mistaken for a pile of old rags.”

London coughed awkwardly. “Err, sorry, I meant no offence.”

“Oh pay it no mind, I am well aware I am not the fine piece of millinery I used to be, in fact I remember one particularly well read student referring to me as ‘a living answer to the ship of Theseus dilemma’.”

London could only awkwardly chuckle.

“Now, what exactly to do with you…” the Hat mused into her ear. “You have a strong desire to march in your mother’s footsteps, to perhaps match them, or even maybe surpass, so no shortage of ambition for Slytherin. You have a straightforward and honest nature, so perhaps Hufflepuff? Then again, your thirst for knowledge and magic is what defines a Ravenclaw… And then there's that streak of defiance, not shy to challenge authority, which is very Gryffindor of you.”

London merely waited patiently.

“Hmm… No, despite what else I might think, I think your mother’s house suits you best. RAVENCLAW!”

Divesting herself of the hat as the trimmings of her robes turned blue and bronze, she made her way to the Ravenclaw table. She did note her applause was more subdued than most, and a part of her thought that perhaps it was a shame she was not sorted into Gryffindor with Hermione.

She then dismissed the thought, as the Gryffindors seemed to be of the more rowdy sort with many of the more traditionally heroic traits being ascribed to them by the hat. No doubt they were already telling her how ‘evil’ Alice was. Perhaps at least with the more intellectually inclined house, they might be less prone to judging her without at least trying to understand her first.

Regardless, she did sit at the far side of the first years so as to avoid making anyone uncomfortable, and settled in to watch the rest of the sorting.

She noted, with a wry amusement, that there was a stir as the P’s came and went, no doubt someone was supposed to be here, but wasn’t. She pretended to wonder who.

The murmuring only increased when the last first year was sorted, and the hat was taken away.

Nevertheless, the hall became silent as Dumbledore stood up with a friendly smile.

“Welcome,” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

London blinked owlishly. She looked around to see if anyone else could have deciphered what that was supposed to mean, only to realise that the table was now laden with food, and people had started eating.

She frowned for a moment, wanting to ask what that could have possibly meant, before sighing and serving herself.

As she started eating, she idly tuned in to the conversations around her.

“Where do you think she is?” one first year girl asked another.

“You mean Hailey Potter?” the other replied.

“Who else? I’m pretty sure she would be of age now, so she should be here.”

“Maybe she missed the train?”

“Maybe she is being secretly trained by the Ministry!”

Another first year, a boy chimed in. “Perhaps she’s here in disguise!”

London couldn’t stop herself. “Excuse me, could you please pass the gravy?”

The Boy jumped and looked at her in surprise. “Err… sure.”

He nervously passed over the gravy boat.

“Thank you,” London said, managing to hide a smirk.

The three watched her apply her gravy and continue eating as if she was some sort of wild animal, before returning to their wild speculation.

She tried not to be smug about it, that none of them even considered for a second that the girl they were talking about was right in front of them.

Other than that, the meal was largely uneventful, with London eating quietly by herself as the speculation eventually gave way to more general small talk as you would expect from the limited attention span of children. Dinner gave way to dessert, and not long after, the table cleared.

Dumbledore then stood once again and loudly cleared his throat.

“Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

“Now as many of you have no doubt noticed, there was a certain absence during the sorting. I regret to inform you that, due to personal reasons I am not at liberty to divulge, no girl currently named Hailey Potter will be attending Hogwarts this year. She is in good health and receiving schooling, but I cannot say more. I hope you all can respect her privacy at this time.”

This set off a wave of confused murmuring.

However, London was more impressed with the wording, as Dumbledore told not a single lie in that announcement. 

Dumbledore held out his hand, and the room was quiet again, before continuing his announcements.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” A rather pointed glance was thrown at the Gryffindor table.

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

This announcement once more invited confusion, and this time London shared it. What kind of school announcement was that?

After a pause Dumbledore continued. “And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” He cheered happily, and all the other teachers' expressions suddenly became rather wooden.

WIth a flick of his wand, he conjured a golden ribbon, which formed lyrics to a song.

“Everyone pick their favourite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

What followed was an absolute cacophony, that went something like this:

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.”

London could only listen in fascinated horror. It was like someone had taken the very concept of music, had it butchered, stitched it together into a piece of abstract art, and paraded its corpse across a major city. She could almost feel the rumble as every dead musician, composer and singer spun in their graves.

Dumbledore, who apparently did not share her opinions, wiped a tear from his eye, as if touched by what could only be called a song if one were held at gunpoint. “Ah, music, a magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

As they were led out the hall by a prefect, London, unable to comprehend what just happened, caught up to the prefect and asked. “Is… Is the Headmaster tone deaf? Does… does he know what music is?”

“No, nothing like that, just mad,” The Prefect said, without even so much as thinking about it.

Lead into the Ravenclaw common room, which was guarded by a doorknob that asked riddles, for whatever reason. The prefect, Penelope Clearwater, directed the students up yet more steps into the student dormitories, separated by year and gender.

This of course led London standing in her new dorm room, with several rather nervous looking first year girls, who were only now coming to terms with the idea that they would be sharing a bedroom with the daughter of Alice.

“Err. Hello,” One tentatively said. “We… didn’t really talk during dinner did we? I’m Padma.”

“London Margatroid. Pleased to meet you,” London said, giving a half bow.

The other girls also quietly introduced themselves, being Sue Li, Lisa Turpin, and Mandy Brocklehurst.

London, partly because she was sleepy, and partly to try to escape the awkward atmosphere, went to her trunk at the foot of the bed she presumed was hers. With a nod in its direction, Lily took off from her arms and shot toward the trunk, and by the time she had reached her, the doll had already successfully rummaged through her belongings, laying out her nightgown on the bed.

Before London could start undressing, she heard a “Wow~” from behind her.

She turned quizzically, and identified the speaker, Lisa, who only now seemed to have noticed what she said, shrunk back, embarrassed.

“Oh, sorry,” Lisa said bashfully. “But I’ve never seen a doll like that, it's really cool. Where did you get it?”

Despite being tired, London was more than happy to answer that question. “Oh, Lily? I actually made her with my mother. She is very cool though,” She said proudly.

The awkward atmosphere returned at the mention of her mother, but this time London pushed through it. “My mother does occasionally take commissions for dolls, but most of the really sophisticated ones like Lily aren’t for sale, sorry. She doesn’t like them leaving the house.”

‘And the ones that do are usually filled with gunpowder,’ London thought privately, although that did not include Lily.

“Ah, I see…” Lisa said. “That's a shame…”

The conversation dried up again, and London simply started getting changed with a sigh.

But as she had pulled on her nightgown, there was another voice. “Erm…”

London looked up to Mandy who, already in her Pyjamas, fidgeted in front of her.

“Yes?” She said politely.

“Well, I was sort of wondering… Your mother… is… is she… issheadarkwitch?” the words ended up tumbling out of her mouth all at once.

London's brow furrowed as she tried to pass what was said, before fixing Mandy a blank look.

The girl started rambling, her nerves getting the better of her. “I mean it's just that she is apparently really powerful, and can overpower all those aurors, and evade the ministry, and, and… well my mother said anyone who looks as good as her in her fifties has to be using dark magic of some sort and… well…”

The girl trailed off nervously, waiting for London's reaction.

London massaged the bridge of her nose. She suppressed her indignation, they didn't really know her mother, they only knew what their parents and the ministry had told them, and that question had clearly taken a lot of nerves to ask.

Keeping her voice even, said. “No my mother is not a ‘dark witch’, she is a magician, a dollmaker, and a puppeteer, just a very good one. And the reason she looks so young is that she is what some might consider a proper magician.”

“Err… What does that mean, exactly?” Mandy asked, the other girls had sort of gathered around, curiosity overriding caution.

“Well you see,” London said, beginning to lecture. “When a magician becomes advanced enough in their craft, they can start using magic to supplement and supplant certain biological functions, lessening, and eventually removing the need for food and sleep, and when the process is finished, they cease to physically age.”

“Wow,” Lisa said again, “that would be amazing.”

“Imagine how much we could do if we didn’t need to sleep,” Said Sue.

“Or not growing old, sounds pretty awesome,” Padma said.

London shook her head in amusement. “Don’t get too excited, it takes a lot of magical study and skill to reach that point. The fact my mother achieved it so young is in itself unusual.”

This did lessen their enthusiasm a little, but they still chatted excitedly about all they could do if they could become magicians as well, not having to eat, being able to stay up all night, and never getting old and wrinkly.

London mostly listened and only occasionally interjected. Although privately, she was somewhat bewildered by how quickly these girls ended up warming up to her.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be as bad as she thought.

Chapter Text

London lightly nibbled at the end of her pen, staring down at the parchment in front of her.

It had been a week of classes, and now, on the first weekend of the school year, London sat in the library contemplating a letter home.

With deliberation, she finally put pen to paper.

Dearest Mother, I hope this letter finds you well.

How are things at home? I understand thanks to your agreement with the ministry, you are not performing any shows, and with myself out of the house, you must have far more free time then you are used to. Are you occupying yourself well enough?

It has been a week since arriving at Hogwarts, and the experience is quite different from the Mundane school in Romania.

The layout of the school is quite strange, if not downright illogical, and I fear it will be some time before I can navigate it without issue.

I am doing quite well in classes, with the basic lessons you gave me before coming helping in making sure my performance in class stays comfortably above average, with minimal difficulty.

The classes themselves however seem to vary in quality somewhat severely. History of Magic is taught by a ghost called Professor Binns, who to put it politely, is not altogether there. He is also a mind numbingly dull individual, whose classes are of little to no merit. I do so wish to join my classmates who have already decided to use this time for naps, however this would be far from polite.

Defence against the Dark Arts is similarly dreadful but for different reasons. According to the older students, the position has become cursed, which has led to no teacher being able to occupy the position for more than a year, lest something dreadful happen to them. This has led to the quality of Defence against the Dark Arts teachers to vary wildly from year to year, as few people wish to occupy the position. Our current teacher, Professor Quirrel, speaks with a stutter, and seems afraid of his own shadow. He does not seem qualified to defend anything, much less teach us how.

Thankfully not all classes are so useless, as I found Charms a pleasant surprise…

“Now, before we get stuck into your first charms lesson, as no doubt you are eager to get started in a little wand waving,” The tiny little Professor Flitwick said cheerfully, “we have a rather unique opportunity here. Miss Margatroid, could you please step up here for a moment?”

London raised her eyebrow, not expecting to be called up out of the blue like that. Had she done something wrong? Did the teacher have a grudge against her mother?

Nevertheless, she said. “Yes Professor,” and stood to walk to the front of the class, Lily hovering behind her.

“Now while I’d normally demonstrate some basic charmwork to give some people a better idea on the contents of my class.” Flitwick said, “We have with us today an absolute masterpiece of enchantment and charms here in class.”

London blinked, before looking up at her doll floating beside her. “Do you mean Lily, Professor?”

“Oh is that what you are calling her? Yes indeed, Lily.” Flitwick said. Before addressing the class once more. “While some of you may be more familiar with London's mother, Alice, from her brushes with law enforcement. But she is quite the accomplished Magical Dollmaker and Puppeteer, and her dolls are said to be the pinnacle of her craft.”

He addressed London again. “Could you please demonstrate some of Lily’s capabilities for the class? Just some simple things that are easy to understand by watching.”

London, still a little befuddled, did as instructed, commanding Lily through a variety of commands, with steadily escalating difficulty, starting with flying in circles, to dusting away some cobwebs in the corner of the room, fetching specifically two of London's green pens from her book bag, to rearranging several books on Flitwick's desk alphabetically.

“While there are many ways to magically animate various, otherwise ordinary objects to do various tasks around the house, as many of you have probably seen your parents do on numerous occasions, You are limited quite a bit by how complex these animations can be, most simply performing the one action they were charmed to do, until charmed to stop. And while you can charm some complex behaviour, like how some toys or statues might pretend to be an animal, these spells are still limited in scope, and prone to breaking when pushed too far, or beyond the planning of the original caster.”

He gestured to Lily, who was currently trying to stack books into a card pyramid at London's prompting. “However, while I imagine that there are still some limits, The level of sophistication in this doll's enchantments, that allow it to interpret and carry out such a wide range of commands and actions, is unheard of in such a simple construct, much less produced at the numbers Alice supposedly possesses. While it may only look like a doll, it is hundreds, possibly thousands of layers of custom spellwork interlocked, working together to make this possible.”

“In fact, with that in mind…” Flitwick said, as if having a thought, and taking out his wand. “Miss Margatroid, do you mind if I magically examine the doll, so I might talk more about the individual charms?”

London, feeling a little smug about all the praise about her mothers work, brought herself back down, and apologetically said. “Sorry Professor, but my Mother is protective of her research, so all her dolls have feedback charms on them.”

Flitwick, rather than be disappointed, said. “That's alright, we can talk about that one then. A feedback countercharm is a spell designed specifically to repel observation or tampering by other spells. It is usually layered over another spell, and acts as a protective barrier to shield it from other spells, by redirecting the magic of the intruding spell, and turning it against the caster in one way or another. This can be anything from alarms, jinxes, or even curses for the really nasty ones. These charms are often found surrounding security enchantments, or for sensitive magical instruments, but some people, like London's mother, may use it to protect their privacy. Do you know what kind of feedback this charm has Miss Margatroid?”

“A… simple force feedback Sir. It returns the spell as kinetic energy, pushing you away from the doll.” London said, then just in case anyone gets any ideas about her mothers general security practices, she added. “Mother knew Lily would be coming with me to school so she kept it in mind when enchanting it, keeping it relatively safe.”

Flitwick considered it, “That should be manageable.” He then turned to address class. “Now, watch what happens when I cast even a simple diagnostic charm on the doll.”

“Wait, you-” London tried to warn him, but he already cast it.

The spell seemed to diffuse across the doll's surface for a minute, before all the energy returned to the point of impact, and, with a discordant screech, expelled itself as a distorted blue sphere, impacting Flitwick and sending him flying backwards, causing some of the students to gasp.

However, before hitting the wall, he seemed to stop mid air, and gently land on his feet.

“As you can see, despite the relative weakness of the cast spell…” Flitwick said, dusting himself off, but stopped when he noticed that Lily was now pointing an almost comically large Lance at his face, with a large kite shield in her off hand.

“Lily! Stand down!” London barked quickly.

The doll then took a more neutral position, although still holding a weapon, and glanced around, scanning for potential threats.

London bowed in Flitwick's direction. “I’m sorry Professor, I tried to warn you, but the doll is programmed to view anyone who attempts to tamper with it as a threat.”

“Oh it's alright, no harm no foul.” Flitwick said, holding up his hands placatingly. “I merely got a little too excited. I should have asked for permission first.”

He then eyed the large weapons the doll was carrying. “I also note that the lance appears to have a rubber tip.”

Indeed the comically large lance had an equally comically large rubber stopper jammed firmly over the point.

“As you saw, the defensive enchantments are on a bit of a hair trigger,” London explained, “Thus mother thought it prudent to prevent accidents.”

Flitwick nodded, “Quite the sensible choice, this is a school after all, there shouldn't be any need for any sharp implements.”

He then glanced at the offending weapons again. “That said, those weapons are far too large to have been kept on her person, where did they come from?”

“I don’t quite understand it myself.” London admitted. “But mother calls it a simplified form of conjuration. She said she got tired of carrying her dolls and puppets, so found a way of magically storing them on her person without a container, she then extended it to her dolls weapons as well.”

“Fascinating…” Flitwick said, eagerly. Before seemingly remembering he had a class to teach, and cleared his throat. “Er, but anyway, Thank you for assisting me in this little demonstration. Five points to Ravenclaw for your cooperation.”

London bowed again. “Thank you professor.” she said, before returning to her seat. Albeit with a few more nervous glances at the revelation that Lily is never not armed.

After class Flitwick asked to talk to her again.

“First off, I’d like to thank you again for playing along with my little demonstration.” Flitwick said. “I’d also like to apologise for letting it get away from me there at the end. I had meant to put people at ease, but I fear I’ve given them a new reason to be nervous.”

“Put them at ease Sir?” London said, tilting her head.

“You see, as the head of Ravenclaw house,” Flitwick said, “ I was worried that your mothers… reputation might have made it difficult for you to mingle with your peers. So I’d hoped by showing off some of your mothers work, it might take the edge off, giving them less reason to be afraid of you. Unfortunately your mothers work was a little too interesting, and I got a little carried away.”

London blinked in surprise. “I… I don’t know what to say, Professor… Thank you for being so considerate.” London said, bowing.

“Think nothing of it, it is my job after all to look after my house.” Flitwick said. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer, run along now, and if you have any trouble, my door is always open.”

…I was more than a little touched by the consideration Professor Flitwick had shown me.

Transfiguration is also promising to be quite interesting a class, although it is by far my strictest teacher, perhaps understandably, as Professor McGonagall claims it to be quite dangerous.

Astronomy was more practical than I was expecting, taking place at night, making our own observations rather than just learning about them. I was half expecting the class to dip into astrology and similar nonsense, but I am told that it is instead covered by Divination, a third year elective, which I do not think I will take.

Herbology is interesting, but largely unremarkable, as it is merely gardening with explicitly magical plants. I imagine it might gain some complexity in later years, but for now nothing worthy of note.

Then there is Potions. The Teacher, Professor Snape, is a rather grumpy, somewhat condescending man, who I got the distinct impression didn’t like his job… or possibly children… maybe both.

He was strict, although less than Professor Mcgonagall, the transfiguration teacher, as he was more willing to let you make the mistake, and then berate you for it in front of class, rather than prevent you from making the mistake in the first place.

He also objected to me using Lily to help with potion preparation, saying, and I quote: “I am here to test your potion making ability, not that of your mothers Automata.”

A reasonable objection I admit, but he could have been more polite about it.

He also seemed somewhat put off about Lily's name, although he said nothing about it.

As for outside of classes-

London paused for a moment, considering how she was going to word this next part in a way that won’t worry mother.

-is still somewhat rocky. My relationship with the rest of the student body is far less problematic than predicted, as my attendance in school has been overshadowed somewhat by the absence of one ‘Hailey Potter’, which as you can probably agree, is appealingly ironic.

However that does not mean that people are fully acclimated to my presence, as some students, although not confronting me directly, seem to view me with fear, suspicion or hostility.

Thankfully, some of my housemates, especially the girls whom I dorm with, seem to have mostly gotten used to my presence, and while we are not what I would consider friends, are cordial enough to talk to me without visible discomfo-

London looked up when she heard someone enter the library, eyebrow raised.

She hadn’t been expecting much in the way of company today, it was the first weekend of term after all, nobody was going to be studying this early in the year, nor was the workload heavy enough for anyone to need too. It was the reason she was writing here after all. With the exception of the Librarian, this space was currently more private than her own dorm.

However her surprise abated when she saw that it was Hermione who had entered the library. Of course, from what little she knew of her, if any first year was bookish enough to be spending their first day of free time in the school Library, it would be the one who didn’t have access to the Ravenclaw common room.

Hermione spotted her, and then started fidgeting a bit, forcing London to push down a sigh.

As she had predicted, Hermione had no doubt learned about her mothers rap sheet from her housemates, and now was far more nervous about talking to London. London had generally been polite and greeted her cordially whenever they shared classes, and Hermione has mostly reciprocated, but with far less enthusiasm than when they had met on the train, and they haven’t really had a conversation since then.

She saw it coming, but at the same time, she couldn’t really help but feel a little disappointed.

“Good Morning Hermione.” London said as the girl neared her desk. After all, there's no reason not to be polite, as Hermione had been anything but hostile.

“O-oh, Hello London.” Hermione said, still fidgeting.

This time not bothering to withhold her sigh, she went back to trying to figure out how to put any positive spin on ‘I have made no friends and I don’t think that will change any time soon’.

But then she realised that rather than move deeper into the Library, Hermione had stopped in front of her desk.

London looked back with surprise evident on her face. “Oh, Sorry…. Do you… need… something?” London said, a little off balance.

“Well… not so much…” Hermione said, looking and sounding awkward, as well as nervous, “But… can… can we talk? Please?”

Not entirely sure where this was going, London gestured to the opposite seat.

Hermione, after hesitating for a second, did so.

There were a few moments of awkward silence, as both people were not really sure how to begin the conversation, Hermione because she doesn’t know where to start, and London because she doesn’t know what this is about yet.

“Sooo…” Hermione started. “What are you writing, do you already have homework?”

“No… I’m writing a letter home.” London said. “My Mother asked me to write frequently.”

There was a little flinch there at the mention of London's mother. 

“I see… Your Mother.” Hermione said.

There was another pause, before Hermione seemed to work herself up to something and almost blurted out. “London, did your mother really kill all those people?”

‘There it is…’ London thought.

She sighed deeply and said. “Yes, she did, thirty one people. It was in self defence, but it doesn’t change the fact that they died.”

Hermione seemed a little put out by the casual declaration. “But… but, they were Aurors! magical policemen! If a policeman tried to arrest you, and you fought them, that isn’t self defence!”

“It would be, if those policemen were from another country.” London countered. “If a German policeman tried to arrest you in France for breaking German law, would you, a British citizen, be fine with being taken into custody? Mother had not been a part of Magical Britain for over twenty years, why should she submit herself to a law she doesn’t acknowledge, from a government she doesn’t respect, from a society she has no part of?”

“But… Why kill people?!” Hermione said, sounding distressed. “There was the Right of Hermitage, right?! she could have done that at any time. So why…?”

“Well…” London said, hesitating, before giving yet another sigh. Hermione had obviously been agonising about this for a while, and it had clearly taken a lot of nerve to even ask in the first place. And if she was being honest with herself, from the time they had spent together on the train, she liked Hermione, to the point where she thought she deserves the honest, somewhat blunt truth. “It's because Mother had no intention of stopping what she was doing. She loved putting on those shows, giving those mundane children a truly magical experience. Conversely she knew that the Ministry would never let her do it unchallenged, they value the statute of secrecy too highly to let her openly flaunt it.” 

“The Right of Hermitage would protect her once, but as they are doing now, they are closing the oversight in the law, and even if she was still eligible, the defence will not work a second time. If she had run away or repelled them, they could have just come back later, and she would still be unable to put on her shows. So my mother did the only thing she thought would get the Ministry to leave her alone and give her space… although in hindsight it only partially worked.”

There was a silence for a moment, as Hermione struggled to digest this information.

“If it helps.” London added. “She was fairly young at the time, more impulsive. Mother has said in passing, that perhaps she would have at least given it more thought if it had happened later in her life.”

Hermione’s brows only furrowed further, before sighing herself, and asking, albeit quite hesitantly, as if she was afraid of the answer, “And… How do you feel about it? Do you think your mother was in the right?”

London blinked, Hermione's question a complete curveball. She was preparing to debate the relative nature of law and morality until the cows came home, but instead, Hermione was asking how she felt about it.

As London tried to reorganise her thoughts, Hermione spoke again. “It's just… People keep telling me your mother is a murder, and evil, and… I’m not sure I can really disagree, thirty one is a lot of people. But then they say that I should keep away from you, that you are also evil, and…” Hermione seemed to flounder for words for a moment, before starting again. “I keep having to try and consolidate the monster they say you are, and the girl I met on the train, and I just can’t make it fit… So I needed to hear it from you.” Hermione said, still nervous, but had ceased fidgeting in favour of looking ahead with resolve, staring London straight in the eye, “Who are you, London?”

London was almost struck speechless, and it took a few minutes before she could really organise her thoughts and emotions enough for a response. All the while, Hermione waited resolutely, unbreaking as she awaited London's response.

London could not remember the last time she felt as vulnerable as she did now. Yet at the same time, she couldn’t really bring herself to brush off this girl, who despite only really meeting her on the train, has given more effort into trying to understand her and her mother than anyone else since she got to this school, that made London want to at least try.

“I… look, it's complicated.” London said eventually, unintentionally dropping her more formal tone. “So could you let me finish before passing any judgement?”

Hermione nodded, so London spent a little longer organising her thoughts looking down at the half finished letter in front of her, before speaking once again. “I understand… that death is not something to be taken lightly, even mother knows that, she was the one who taught me.”

“But you have to understand… Mother is not all together human, she was born Human, but as she advanced along the path of magicianhood, she replaced more and more of herself with magic. Magician is not merely her title, she is a magician, she is Magic.”

She paused for a moment, before continuing. “My mother once took me to meet a vampire, a really old, powerful vampire, and she told me that it was foolish to try and ascribe ordinary morals to such a being. Being a predator, the way she thinks about things like life and death are fundamentally different, but that does not make them evil, or even unkind. And upon meeting the Vampire, I could understand what she meant. Despite drinking blood out of a wine glass, she was a pleasant host, who had invited mother over to meet her best friend, another magician, because she was worried she didn’t have enough friends.”

“Since then, as I started coming to fully understand what my mother had done, I started seeing her in the same light as the Vampire all those years ago. Mother is not human anymore, She simply does not value human life in the same way most people do. But does that make her evil? She only killed in retaliation, she generally avoided conflict where she could, and she made such beautiful dolls and puppets, and shared them with children who would otherwise have never seen magic, and asked nothing in return. Is that not worth something?”

“And more than anything… she is my mother, she raised me full of love and care, even though… I was adopted, you know?” Hermione almost gasped. “She is not my biological mother, we aren’t even related by blood. She had no reason to even take me in in the first place. Yet she did anyway. She gave me a loving home, she remembers my birthdays, she encourages me, lets me express myself, comforts me when I’m sad, involves me in her life, and herself in mine. She taught me so many things, and filled my life with so many happy memories…”

London paused to wipe her eyes as they were getting a little watery, before finally meeting Hermione's stare. “Remember how you said you had trouble seeing the London you met, and the London everybody told you I was? It's the same with me and mother, except I can’t see the monster at all. Whenever I see Alice Margatroid, I don’t see a murderer, or a dark witch… I just see my mom, who loves seeing children smile, makes beautiful dolls, who adopted an orphan not even a year old out of the goodness of her heart… Who I love very, very much.”

London was sniffling a bit, and paused to blow her nose before continuing. “All mother wanted to do was put on her shows, was that too much to ask? If you ask me, it's the statute of secrecy that was to blame, it made my mothers acts of charity a crime, and for what? So wizards can continue to pretend that ordinary people don’t exist? Because coexisting is too hard? My mother spent nearly thirty years a fugitive because she wanted to show some children some magic, to let them know that fantastic things existed, to give a little bit of wonder and whimsy in their life. Why should that be a crime?”

“Because Wizards are selfish that's why.” London said, a tiny bit of bitterness entering her voice. “Because they want to hog all the magic to themselves. They could solve so many problems so easily, yet they would rather hide all the magic in the world, rather than help anyone but themselves!”

“For that matter, why should it be solely my mothers fault that all those Aurors died?” London said, now getting heated. “The First few sure, but they should have known by then that they couldn’t catch her, yet the Ministry kept trying. Was their precious secrecy so important that they kept having to send men and women to die?! And they call my mom a monsterrrr…”

London trailed off when she noticed Hermione staring wide eyed at her, as well as the Librarian giving her a disapproving glare from across the room. She noticed she had stood up, and had both hands on the table.

London quickly sat down, clearing her throat awkwardly. “Errr… Apologies.” London said, trying to get back into her cultivated dignified persona. “I… got a little emotional.”

“I… noticed.” Hermione said, trying to process seeing London lose her cool for the first time.

There was another pause, as London blew her nose, dabbed her eyes, and, after checking with her hands, started self consciously smoothing the stray hairs that had started to come loose during her little outburst.

“I… think I get it now.” Hermione said, slowly.

“You do?” London asked, surprised..

“Well, not entirely.” Hermione admitted. “But for what it's worth… I don’t think you are the monster people think you are. Your mother… I’m still not sure what I think to be honest, but I can at least understand why you want to think the best of her…”

“...and I can understand enough of what it's like not really fitting in, to want to give you the benefit of the doubt.” Hermione said, looking melancholy.

“Oh… Are you having trouble with bullying?” London asked.

“What? No.” Hermione said quickly, before adding. “At least, not as such.”

“Well, if you want to talk about it, I can listen.” London said, “I’ve already offloaded a lot of my issues on you, so it's only fair.”

“Well… I didn’t really have a lot of friends in Primary school.” Hermione admitted, “I like reading, and books and learning new things, so people liked calling me things like boring, or know-it-all.”

London nodded, that sounded like the textbook definition of unpopular girl.

“When I got my Hogwarts letter, and I found out I was a Witch, and was going to an exclusive school to learn magic, I was really excited. It was learning something totally new, and as amazing as magic, and surrounded by students, all there to learn the same things. I think I was imagining a school of people like me, all eager to learn all they could about magic… Only now that I’m here, I found that most people didn’t really share the same… enthusiasm.”

“I’m not being bullied or anything like that,” Hermione continued, looking downcast. “But despite the magic school, it really doesn’t feel that different from Primary, a lot of my housemates come from magical families so they aren’t really as… wowed as I am, and even my fellow Muggleborns don’t really have the same excitement. It almost feels like that, besides finding out I’m a witch, nothing has really changed.”

Hermione looked up at London again. “Do you think maybe the hat put me in the wrong house? I know I wanted to be a Griffindor, but perhaps I really should have been a Ravenclaw.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much of a difference it would have made, since I think most of my year come from Wizarding families, although perhaps they are more academically inclined. I haven’t really gotten to know them that well yet.” London said. “But for what it's worth, confronting me like that felt pretty brave, considering how nervous you were. Seems pretty Griffindor to me.”

Hermione blushed. “You think?”

“A little rash too.” London said, a little smirk. “After all, what if I was evil? I could have done all sorts of evil things to you.”

Hermione snorted. “How scary.”

There was another silence, although more companionable than all the others.

“I’m sorry for being pushy about… all that.” Hermione said. “Can… Can we be friends?”

London couldn’t help but smile. “Only if you want to be.”

“Well… I think I do?” Hermione said, not really sure how to answer that. “I mean, yes, I do… is this how friendship works?”

“Search me,” London said. “If I’m honest I've never been particularly blessed in the friendship department either. I was the weird kid who played with dolls in primary school, most of my friends are not really the best conversationalists.”

She gestured to Lily for emphasis. “They are great for tea parties though.”

Hermione looked at the doll in question. Her lip started quivering, before she burst into giggles, all the nervous energy she had been accumulating released all at once, with London joining her shortly after.

After they recovered from their giggle fit, they looked up to the disapproving face of the librarian.

“Need I remind you girls, that this is a Library?” She said sharply.

They shared a glance, and then London looked at her half finished letter, before folding it up and putting it in her book bag.

She stood up, and walked around to Hermione and pulled her up by the hand. “Come on, I’ve been meaning to explore the castle, Lets do it together.”

Being led out by the hand by London, under the stern watch of the Librarian, Hermione asked. “Now? But what about your letter?”

“I can finish it later, but right now, it's the weekend, and we are in different houses. We are friends now, after all, so when else will we be able to spend time together without conflicting schedules?” London asked.

Hermione blinked, before smiling bashfully. “Right… maybe we should compare timetables?”

“Of course,” London said. “But later, now let's explore… should we start at top to bottom or Bottom to top?”

“Well, Gryffindor Common room is fairly high up, so perhaps top to bottom will be more useful… Actually, where is your Common Room?” Hermione said.

“One of the towers.” London said. “It's behind a door that tells riddles. So yes, top to bottom will probably be better.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to tell other houses where the common rooms are?” Hermione asked, concerned.

London shrugged as they entered the main stairwell and started climbing. “If they cared about security, they wouldn’t have made it riddle activated. It's not as if Ravenclaw has the monopoly on the smart people after all, especially considering where you are.”

“London.” Hermione said, sounding curious. “If you don’t mind me asking, I noticed you are talking… differently than before, less formal. Why is that?”

London slowed down, as if just noticing that herself. “Bother.” She exclaimed, looking annoyed at herself, but then just continued climbing. “Well… I guess it's fine if it's you, but don’t spread it around.”

“So the whole prim and proper thing is an act then?” Hermione asked.

“No, not an act.” London corrected. “It's a persona, it's how I choose to present myself to others, to influence how they perceive me, everyone does it, even if only subconsciously. I do it so people will take me more seriously, like my mother. I’m not as good at it as her though, she barely has to think about it, and you have to really push her Buttons to get her to drop hers…”

Somewhere in the distant hidden land of Gensokyo, a certain little witch sneezed.

Chapter Text

I am taking a small break from releasing for the next two-three weeks.

Had a rough time recently, I got a little too ambitious and started writing three chapters a week, which worked for a while, and I was pretty proud of myself. but I think I stressed myself out trying to keep it up and fell off a little bit, and ended up with a bunch of half finished chapters.

And to top it off, I had to take a few days off writing, because our Family dog died, Eccles. He was was old, and he had a lot of health problems, He died on Halloween, I had to dig the grave. It sorta took the wind out of my sails a bit (even thinking about it now makes me feel teary). I still tried to write things this week, but I barely finished a chapter.

I'm not taking a break from writing, but I'm taking a break from releasing, to take the stress off a bit, top up my backlog, and do some editing, Since even for me, I've been getting sloppy (I'm currently investigating getting an editor, to take that off my workload so I can focus on the writing part).

Sorry about this, Hopefully I'll be back, bright and bushy tailed in a week or two, and we will resume with the scheduled release of Youkai of Grudge and Silent Daughter.

This is a Temp chapter, and will be deleted after the break.