"Where to next?" Integra asked. Perhaps they could purchase a spell book and she could practice with her new wand.
"I believe we shall purchase your robes, cloak, and the hat you shall never wear, my lady," Walter replied, his tone at its driest.
"That's right!" Integra agreed wholeheartedly. Although she then had a sudden vision of a number of students lined up, all wearing pointed hats except herself, making her terribly stand out. Integra snorted to herself. Of course she'd stand out! She was a lady and the heir to Hellsing.
"Here we are," Walter announced, bringing Integra back from her thoughts. They stood before Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, although the sign was as little hard to read as a giant man was peering into the window, presumably waiting for someone inside from the two ice-cream cones he held. Not that he wasn't large enough to eat both himself.
"This way," a young, thin witch said as they entered. Integra frowned, but followed the woman into a backroom. The woman skirted the edge of rudeness, but may just be zealous in her duties, an attitude any Hellsing should approve of. The room already had two boys standing on stools while seamstresses pinned up the hems of their long black robes. "Hogwarts?" Integra's attendant asked.
"Yes," Integra confirmed.
"One of the seamstresses will be with you shortly," the woman replied, then exited back into the front room.
The paler boy was speaking. "-really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways-"
"And whom would you be, sir?" Integra interrupted. Accepting that the wizards and their magic were not blasphemous was one thing, allowing them to put on airs was another.
The pale boy gave her an oily smile. "Draco Malfoy."
"And your father?" she asked.
"My father's name? Lucius Malfoy." The boy appeared to expect she might recognize the name.
"I ask," Integra continued, "because you speak as if your birth granted you superiority over others. I naturally assumed that you, or at least your father, was a member of the peerage. To my surprise, I find you are no more than a commoner with pretensions." Draco's pale face gained a satisfying red tint.
"Who do you think you are?" he demanded. Integra smiled coldly. The common throng's lack of recognition of her family's duty and accomplishments always vexed her. From the wandmaker's words, that would not be so amongst these wizard-folk.
"I am the Lady Integra Wingates Hellsing, peer of the realm and your superior by birth and breeding," Integra replied. "And I shall remain so unless the Queen, in the wisdom granted her by God, elevates you from your common roots. An event I doubt shall happen." The hush that descended in the room upon hearing her surname was quite satisfying. Only the second boy with the odd scar seemed unaffected.
"I take it your parents are not wizards, either?" Integra asked. It was obvious he had never heard of Hellsing and, while he obviously was another commoner, she thought it likely that he, at least, was a member of the Church of England.
"Well, they were, but I didn't know that until today. They died when I was little and I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle, who're muggles," the boy replied. "Uh, ma'am," he added self consciously.
"Call me Integra, Mr. . ."
"Um, Harry Potter." The boy said his name with some trepidation. Draco appeared to have received a second shock to his system and everyone else, including Walter, turned to look at the boy. Integra was not happy to be the only one ignorant of his significance.
"Pleased to meet you," Integra replied. She would have fallen back on her training and presented her hand, but the boy obviously couldn't move to take it, what with his robe being pinned and all.
"Well he's not pleased to meet you, Hellsing," Draco sneered.
"You will address me as 'my Lady' or 'Lady Hellsing', peasant," Integra replied icily.
"If these softspines are going to sell you anything, I won't address you at all," Draco shot back. "I'm leaving, and you can expect my family will not return here again." The boy suited his actions to his words and stormed off.
"I hope we aren't forced to suffer his presence again," Integra said to Harry.
"He was being a snot," Harry tentatively agreed, "but, I mean, I didn't really think it was worth getting into a fight over."
"Don't let them put on airs, Harry," Integra responded, "They are nothing special. You, on the other hand, are on a first name basis with a peer of the realm."
Harry nodded, but, from the speed with which he left when his robe was pronounced done, Integra thought he must have been uncomfortable.
"Well, then," Integra said to the seamstresses who now turned to her. "My robes are to be of the finest materials. I expect the coarsest to be of Egyptian cotton at the very least-" A sudden thought struck Integra; she was supposed to be embracing this magic, correct? "On second though, cotton just will not do. Each is to be immune to staining or self-cleaning with such speed as to effectively not stain. They will not tear or fade. You will decorate them with lace, but not excessively or unattractively so. The breast of each robe will be embroidered with the Hellsing crest. . . "
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