Flowers and Snakes

People didn’t believe Voldemort when he told the world he had changed. Not even the news that he had fathered a child with his life partner Quirrell changed their opinion of him. So when Avalona starts her education at Hogwarts she decides to keep her parentage a secret from everyone except her closest friends. A gifted witch, she quickly excels, first academically and then physically as she becomes the second youngest seeker in history after Harry Potter. But her path isn’t going to be easy as she discovers new powers, figures out who her friends really are, and learning to find happiness in the darkest of places.
(Technically a HP and AVPM crossover, but it’s mostly HP- only AVPM reference is Quirrelmort)
My first Movella! 


2. To Diagon Alley

Bump, bump, bump, crash! I sat up groggily and found myself in a heap at the bottom of the staircase. In my excitement I must have tripped on the top step and tumbled my way all the way down to the bottom. Very slowly, I started to get up, just as Voldemort appeared in the kitchen doorway with a worried expression on his face.

“Avalona, I heard a crash- are you okay?” he asked me, and Quirrell came up behind him with a matching look on his face. I managed to flash them a confident smile.

“Yeah, of course.” I replied with a small amount of cockiness in my voice. Their worried faces melted into relieved smiles, when I skipped over to them. “Can we go now Quirrell? I’m dying to go shopping!” Quirrell smiled and led me into the living room, offering me his arm, which I gratefully clung onto to stop myself from tipping over again.

Behind us, I heard Voldemort mutter:

“There are five words I thought I’d never hear my daughter say.”

This makes me and Quirrell chuckle. We stand in front of the fireplace and he turns to me.

“You ready?”

“I was born ready Quirrell”

But I bury my face into his shoulder all the same, knowing that I’m going to feel very nauseous in a few minutes.

And I did.

Quirrell apparated us to Diagon Alley and we landed just outside Madame Malkin’s Robe Emporium, with manikins dressed in all kinds of school uniforms. I staggered away from him and leant against the wall to get my breath back. A few minutes later, I was feeling alright again, and ready for shopping.

“Now, I’m not good at this whole shopping thing,” Quirrell explained to me. “So I’ll stay at Flourish and Blott’s to get your books, and maybe browse for a new Jane Austen Novel-“here he gave me a large handful of gold, silver and bronze coins from his wallet, which I stuffed into my own purse-“This is 20 galleons, 15 sickles and 5 knuts. You should be able to get everything you need with this. You’ve got your list right?” I nodded and patted my pocket.

“I’ll be fine Quirrell, you have fun book shopping.”

With that I turned away from him and into the first shop, thankfully the one we had arrived right next to- Madame Malkin’s.

The bell tinkled as I pushed the door open gingerly, getting a whiff of fresh fabrics and mothballs. It was dark inside the shop with a few candles hanging from the ceiling in ornate chandeliers. To either side of me were racks and racks of depressing robes and cloaks of black, navy and dark green. I tentatively walked towards the desk and pressed the summoning bell, which rang out clear and sharp in that quiet little shop. In less than a minute a pretty face popped out from the curtained doorway just behind the main desk. The girl had a perky nose, bright blue eyes, full pink lips and bouncy brunette curls. She smiled upon seeing me.

“Hi!” she trotted out from behind the curtain and came round the desk to look me over. “You must be here for you Hogwarts Uniform. A little late in the year but you’re not the only one. I’m Heather, by the way. Come, come, let’s get you measured.” She disappeared behind the curtain again, and I had no choice but to follow dumbly. I pulled the curtain aside and gasped in surprise. The front of the shop may be dark and mysterious, but in here it looked like a French boutique. It was light and airy with wooden models modelling stylish dress and casual robes alongside all kinds of magical school uniforms on pedestals, and a row of curtained dressing cubicles and measuring stands. Heather bounced over to one such stand and gestured for me to stand on it, as she rifled through a cluttered draw for a measuring tape. She found it presently, and started taking my measurements, talking all the while.

“Well as you can see, it’s changed a lot around here since my mother’s day. We still keep the front of the shop the same for the benefit of the older folk wanting the Alley to look the same, but in here is where the magic really happens- if you’ll excuse the pun. I’ve always helped mum to fit everyone who comes in here with the best robes money can buy, from dress robes at the Malfoy’s, to new students uniforms like yourself. It’s become a passion of mine, and now I design all the original patterns in her myself. I guess they’d call me a fashion designer in the muggle world- but have you seen their catwalk designs! Some of them are fabulous but others are just-“ I ignored her after a while, just trying to concentrate on keeping my body still and not jumping up and down with excitement. There were no windows in this room, and it was lit by modern muggle lighting. It was no wonder why the more traditional witches and wizards wanted to keep the shop front the same. And the clothes! Even the uniforms seemed stylish when presented next to an elegant ball robe worth 300 Galleons. There were mirrors all along one wall reflecting the room and making it seem bigger than it was, and I contemplated my reflection as Heather buzzed around me like a frantic bee. I admired the robe I was wearing, a dark green affair with bell sleeves and subtle gold stitching at the hems. It had an elegant neckline and hung just right, and the colour nicely set off the natural auburn highlights in my curly chestnut hair. Needless to say it was my favourite.

“It’s a lovely robe you’ve got by the way.” Heather chirped, cutting through my line of thought and bringing me back to the matter in hand. “Where’d you get it? It doesn’t look like one of my designs.”

I looked at her and found that she was sincere. I told her the truth.

“It was my grandmother’s. Now it’s my favourite.”

“And so it should be- it’s gorgeous! Anyway, I’m done here. This little lot should fit, but just to make sure, you can try them on in one of those booths over there.” She helped me down and handed me a folded set of uniform and gestured towards the row of changing rooms before bouncing back behind the curtain we had come through to help another customer. I headed over to the booths and pulled the first curtain back, only to be greeted by a high pitched squeak. There stood a boy my own age in his underwear, half in and half out of his school trousers. He struggled to cover himself up but I slammed the curtain shut before he could.

“Ohmygod!” I shouted. “I’m so sorry!”

I quickly shut myself into the next booth along, which was, thankfully, empty. Clutching my new uniform to my chest, I tried to control my breathing and clam myself down.

“S’okay!” a cheerful voice called out from the other cubicle. “I’m Scorpius Malfoy, by the way.”

“Avalona Quirrell” I replied, and noticed that my voice was still shaky- I was more shaken up than he was, and I’d lived with two guys for my whole life. And they were guys that didn’t mind walking around shirtless!

“It’s okay, you know,” Scorpius replied. “I have a little sister, and she’s always walking in on me when I’m changing!”

Despite myself, I laughed out loud. I could just imagine that scene: the cool older brother cringing at the nosy little sister catching him in the middle of putting on a new pair of wizard shorts. This cheered me up enough to put on my uniform, and it brought my excitement back to bubbling point. I found that each item of clothing fitted my perfectly, with ample growing room. The tie, scarf and robe linings were black at the moment, but I read the note folded up in the bundle, and it told me that once I was sorted, my uniform would magically change colour to represent that of my house. Once I had put everything on, and my robe was hanging in the changing room, I decided to see what I looked like. As there were no mirrors in the cubicles, I had to use the giant mirror in the main room. I poked my head out from behind the curtain. There was no one there.

I stood in front of the mirror and admired my reflection for the second time in the short time that I had been in this room. The Hogwarts uniform had changed recently to make it look more like that of a muggle school with a charcoal grey knee-length skirt, white shirt, a grey jumper with house colours at the cuffs and waist (or would have once I got sorted) and a house tie. The only part of it that even resembled the old style uniform was the robe, which was black with a coloured lining, house patch on the left breast and long flowing sleeves. Despite this, I liked it. Quirrell and Voldemort had always encouraged me to dress like a muggle as I had attended a muggle school since just before the summer, so this gentle nudge filled me with glee.

I twirled slowly to make my robe spin around my legs and came face to face with Scorpius Malfoy. He was also dressed in his uniform, but he had a worried expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Don’t you like your uniform?”

 He glanced at his reflection in the huge mirror; probably too close to my own for his comfort as he stepped backwards.

“It’s not that.” He muttered. “I just don’t think my dad would like it. He doesn’t like muggles.”

I shot him a sympathetic look, not sure why I was being so sociable with a boy I had just met.

“Don’t worry about it- it’s not like you can change the uniform!”

I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder at the same moment that Heather pushed her way back through the curtain with a young witch, probably in her late twenties, in tow. I jumped back and tried not to look guilty as Heather flashed a smile at me.

“Do they fit?” she asked rapidly, and continued without waiting for an answer. “Good, good. That’ll be ten galleons for the lot. Thank you very much. Now you two go and get changed while I get your receipts tallied up and get this young lady measured.”

She ushered us back towards the cubicles and turned back to her new client. I looked at Scorpius just before we entered our respective changing rooms and managed to say:

“See you on the train?”

I got a nod in reply. It only took a few minutes for me to change back into my robe and I wrapped my new uniform in a brown paper packet that had magically appeared on a small stool beside me. I exited the shop, quickly thanked Heather, who was already busy measuring, and headed back out to the bustling Diagon Alley.

Half an hour later, I had bought most of my supplies except my books, which Quirrell was taking care of, and my wand. I have to admit, I was a little afraid of getting this item. What if there wasn't a wand that would choose me? However, I pushed my hesitations aside and approached the new wand shop on the block: Willow Wands. Of course, I knew the story of Ollivander, the best wand maker that the wizarding world had seen for centuries, and I also knew that he had been tortured and killed by none other than (the evil) Lord Voldemort for information on the Elder Wand. I was so glad that Voldemort was good hearted now.

The door creaked slightly as I entered the shop, which didn’t help my palpitating heart. It appeared to be empty, with a large wooden desk cluttered with millions of wands taking up most of the single room plot. The walls were huge shelves over flowing with wand boxes. It was like a wand-collector’s paradise!

I padded across the tiny room towards the desk and looked around. There seemed to be no sign of anyone in here, but I craned my neck anyway. Suddenly there was a loud popping sound, and a young man appeared behind the desk. He wore a scruffy work shirt and his sandy hair stuck upwards as if he had incorrectly cast an anti-gravity on himself. Almost immediately, he spotted me.

“Vell, hello there, young lady. Come for a vand, have you?”

It seemed all the retailers in Diagon Alley greeted their customers in this fashion. I noddded.

The man hurried aroung the desk, pulling out a bright green measuring tape as he did so. He introduced himself to me as he measured my right arm, my wand arm.

“I am Villiam Villow, founder and owner of Villow Vands.” He had a very strong german accent, so I found it quite hard to understand him. Nevertheless, he was finished measuring my arm in a instant, and turned swiftly to the shelf behind him. He plucked out a long thin box with vine inscriptions decorating the lid and handed it to me.

“Try this one, my dear. It’s Holly wood and Unicorn Hair core, ten and three quarter inches. Might fit you.”

I opened the box carefully and gazed at the dainty wand inside, with its inticate details matching those on the lid of the box. I hoped that it would choose me, but when I picked it up it felt cold and lifeless in my hand. Mr. Willow urged me to wave it, and I did so, but as I did the wand dropped in temperature and spread frost across my fingers. I yelped and dropped the wand and it rolled across the floor.

“No, definately not.” He sighed and picked it up, before cocking his head to the left slightly. Almost as if he was pulled by an invisible force, William Willow made his way down the rows of shelves and pulled out a second wand box. This one was decorated with delicate feathers, and I guessed that the wand inside had a feather core. I was handed the box and opened this one gently. As I expected, the handle of the wand resembled a feather curled around the wand shaft itself. I picked it up and found it humming with energy, but not of a pleasant sort. When I waved it, I found it most unresponsive, and in the end I had to flick it quite hard before it did anything, and even then, it caused the lamp   sitting on the desk near me to explode into a million pieces.

“Nope!” I gasped and placed the wand hurriedly on the countertop. Mr. Willow looked at me sympathetically, and inhaled sharply. I heard him mutter:

“Oh, of course” under his breath as he crossed the room and chose a seemingly random box from the bottom of a higgle-de-piggle pile on a wonky shelf. He turned to me with a triumphant smile on his young face and handed me the plain, boring box. My heart sank at the sight of it- did this mean that my wand ws going to equally as plain, and what did that say about me? However, I pushed the negative thoughts aside and took this third wand from him.

I gasped as I prised the box open- the wand inside was beautiful! It was dark with light undertones, a simple but beautiful handle, and an enchanting, twisted shaft. Maybe it was short, only about eleven and a half inches, but it was perfectly balanced. I was in love with this piece of carved wood.

“Yes, that particular vand was one of the first I made. Constructed from rare Black Ash vith an unusual core of a thread of Faerie Fire makes it hard to master, but it vill bond strongly with its owner.”

This information made me feel rather nervous about trying it, so I stalled instead.

“I thought wands were only made with Unicorm Hair, Phoenix Tails and Dragon Heartstrings. Why is this one made with Faerie Fire?”

“Ah, common misconception that. It is true that Ollivander only used those core materials, but vands can also be made vith materials from other magical creatures, such as this wand here. I have decided to use a vide array of vand cores as not every vizard or vitch will respond to a popular core type... Anyvay, go on, give it a vave!”

Tentatively, I held the wand in my hand and flicked it gently at the shelves on the opposite side of the shop, and held my breath. To my amazment, the shelves straightened up, the wands got back in their boxes, and rearragned themselves magically and alphabetically. Mr. Willow smiled at me.

“Vell, this vand has chosen you, and now you are its owner. That’ll be eight galleons please.”

 I paid him his gold coins, poppped the wand back in its box and tucked the box under my arm. Bidding farewell to William Willow, I headed out of the shop and went to find Quirrell.

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