Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Looking back to before everything happened it’s likely no one would have imagined things turning out the way they had. 

Or—

Maybe they would have. Maybe it depends on the year someone asked them about it. There were those who thought it would; those who believed, deep in their heart and soul, that this was what the wizarding world would eventually become. What it was meant to be. They never gave up hope— the hope that the world they longed for would finally arrive. Then there were those who fought, fought for what they believed in and fought against those who sought to stop them.  Who’s to say who was right and who was wrong?

To truly understand how everything happened though we have to go back. We have to start off with a story.

Everybody knows the story; the story of the Potter twins. It has been told over and over again in the magical world; discussed between friends, colleagues and acquaintances, parents telling their children or older siblings telling their younger siblings. The story of how two babies destroyed an infamous Dark Lord, losing their parents in the process. 

It always started late one night on All Hallows Eve— 1981. When the Dark Lord Voldemort— a man so fearsome that most dared not speak his name, simply referring to him as You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named— went to find the Potter family, intent on killing every last one of them. He slayed the Potter parents first, ruthlessly and efficiently; first the father in the front foyer of their small family home then the mother directly in front of the crib their two children slept safely in for the first fifteen months of their lives. Then he turned his wand on the two infants still in their crib— both mercifully unaware of what had occurred; of what was to come— and uttered an Unforgivable Curse that none before that night had ever survived.  

Yet the Potter twins lived. 

How, no one can truly say, all anyone knew was that there was an explosion that took out the top corner of the Potter family home, a large portion of the small cottage destroyed by the rebound of the infamous spell. They knew that by the time anyone arrived at the scene all that was left behind were the dead bodies of James and Lily Potter— now and forever frozen in their youthful appearance at the mere age of twenty-one— and sitting in their shared crib was Harry and Rose Potter. 

When they were young it was often thought that the Potter twins were identical twins, which was true in a sense. The two were very much identical with the only difference being their genders. Both born with tuffs of wild black hair upon their heads, wide eyes a pretty emerald green just like their mothers and chubby rosy cheeks. 

However, after that night there would be no mistaking which baby was which.  

Harry Potter, from the night onward, had a scar above his right brow. It bore a striking resemblance to a bolt of lightning streaking across the night sky, splintering outward into multiple jagged ends. Rose Potter had a scar very similar to her brothers, the only difference being where her’s was located. While Harry’s scar was seared into his forehead, her’s was stretched across the front of her throat.     

Those two scars were talked about just as often as the story of ‘that night’ was— perhaps even more so. The two scars being the physical proof of that night’s impossible feat. Proof that two babies, only a little over a year old, survived the Killing Curse.    

There were an abundance of magical beings— people and creatures— who waited, with bated breath, for the Potter twins’ return to their world. After that night the two were sent off to a location unknown to all, except for a small handful of people, and weren’t seen or heard from since then. Some said they were living in a manor guarded by Aurors and with more wards than Hogwarts itself. Others heard they were living in the Muggle world with distant relatives of their mother. Some thought they were with Albus Dumbledore, the man who defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald less than a century ago and the only person that You-Know-Who was said to fear.     

Despite all the theories, the location of the Potter twins was first known directly by only Albus Dumbledore, Rubeus Hagrid and Minerva McGonagall. The three of them present when Dumbledore placed Harry and Rose on the doorstep of Petunia Dursley’s— Lily Potter’s elder sister— house on Privet Drive.

Over the years there were a select few that Dumbledore trusted and told the location of the two children too. The most notable being Arabella Figg, who moved in next door to the Dursleys’ in order to keep an eye out for any trouble. There were others; people that Dumbledore sent to briefly check on every so often, none had ever spoken to them though.

Mrs. Figg was the only one to speak to the Potter twins and she never told them who she was. Never mentioned that she was a Squib from a magical world that Albus Dumbledore, a rather famous wizard, asked to watch over them. She was directly instructed not to in fact. To the twins, and the Dursleys, she was just an older woman who lived with multiple cats and would sometimes babysit Harry and Rose.

Harry and Rose Potter grew up knowing nothing about the world they had come from. The world that their parents had been a part of and that their family supposedly saved. Despite their fame in the magical world they did not know it even existed.

The two grew up being told that their parents were good-for-nothing drunks who had gotten themselves killed in a car crash. They were told never to ask questions and to never ruin the Dursley family’s perfect life.

The Dursleys were a 'perfect’ looking family from the outside, something they took great pride in and went to great lengths to achieve. Just a man, his wife, and their strapping young son. The kind of family where the husband went off to work in the morning, giving his wife a kiss at the door and ruffling his son’s hair as he went. The kind of family where the son would go off to school each day, happy and cheerful, and the wife would keep the house just-so for when they returned.

They worked very hard to maintain this image and they succeeded for the most part. The only stain on the perfect portrait that was their life at Number Four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, was their niece and nephew.

The Potters.

Two kids who were dumped off on them by a community of freaks. Even as babies they knew they weren’t normal, with their untameable hair, their unsettling green eyes and the  scars. They had received questions from neighbours and school staff alike about the scars, each one of them curious to know about the strange blemishes on the pair. Vernon and Petunia told them the same thing they told the twins: they had gotten them in the car crash that killed their parents.

Harry and Rose were not stupid though. They understood that some of the things that happened around them were unusual—impossible at times. They knew that not everyone could heal overnight when their arm or wrist was broken and that most people couldn’t unlock doors simply by wishing it. Those were just the start of the strange happenings in their lives.   

And that was the thing— Harry and Rose were special.

This was just a fact. One their relatives would never convince them of otherwise no matter how much they tried. Life at the Dursleys for the twins was an unpleasant one, with it being made abundantly clear that they were not wanted. The twins held onto the solace that they had each other, that no matter the words that were hurled in their direction everyday, Harry and Rose had each other. They weren’t alone in life.

The two of them had plans for when they were old enough. Plans to run away when they get to their teen years and to never look back. Harry was the one to first bring it up one night when the two were crammed into their cupboard after cooking dinner for their relatives. As they listened to their uncle and cousin loudly gorge themselves on the food they made but weren’t allowed to eat, Harry turned to his sister.   

“One day Ro’, we’re gonna leave this place behind. We’ll run far away and live on a nice beach somewhere. We’ll eat if we want to eat and go where we want to go.”   

Rose had stared at Harry silently for a long time after his whispered promise. His eyes wide and earnest behind his wire framed glasses. Then she smiled, her own eyes shining at the very thought, nodding her head in agreement and holding up her pinky.

“A pinky promise?” Harry laughed quietly.

Rose nodded seriously in reply, though Harry could see her eyes gleaming with humour.

Harry repeated her head bob with one of his own. “Pinky promises are serious business,” Harry said solemnly as he linked his finger with hers, “you can never break them.”

They had been seven at the time they made their agreement for Harry’s plan and since then the plan had been tweaked and altered a few times but the main focus of it remained: they would be finished with the Dursleys one day.

Now they were fast approaching their eleventh birthday and were beginning to feel a buzz of excitement as they realized they were now on the cusp of their teen years. Soon. There would be no more chores, no more yelling, no more pain. They would be free. Free to be who they really were— without judgement or insults.

However, things had taken a bit of a turn lately.

They had just reached the end of yet another punishment— the punishment being that they ruined Dudley’s birthday trip to the zoo— and were going back to what they considered a regular routine. Then one morning Harry had been told by their Uncle Vernon to get the mail after the sound of the mail slot could be heard opening and closing.

Harry was quick to head over to the door, not taking any chances after back-talking for a second, and he picked up the small pile that had been dropped on the rug at the front door. Just as he was sifting through the mail his sister came down the stairs, tilting her head in question as Harry froze.

Rose reached out and poked his arm, her brow furrowing as Harry looked at her with wide eyes.

Silently he pushed an envelope into her hand, turning another one to face her so she could see the writing on the front. Rose’s eyes narrowed slightly as she saw Harry’s name printed on the envelope, glancing down quickly at the one in her hand.

Someone had written them a letter?

That made no sense to Rose, no one ever wrote to them. They hardly even existed. She stood there on the stairs frozen and frowning at the letter, taking in the fancy crest in wax on the seal. It had a snake, a lion, a badger, and an eagle on it— a rather odd combination of animals, she thought at the time. Her finger had just curled into the edge of the seal, ready to tear the thing open, when she heard her cousin shout.

“Dad! Dad, Harry’s got something!” 

Rose’s head had snapped to the direction of the kitchen, cursing in her mind over not making Harry wait and open the letters with her, and she rushed to her brother.

What followed was a confiscation of her and Harry’s letters and an intriguing, whispered conversation between their aunt and uncle. Rose and Harry were beyond curious and had thought for a brief moment that maybe their curiosity would be sated as another letter arrived for both of them. Alas, their brute of an uncle got to the letters first, destroying them both before they could even see them.

The only positive that had come from the whole mess was that Harry and Rose had gotten their own rooms— well a room to share with each other, but that was the same thing to them. They always shared a room and had never once been separated from one another. Which meant that they both felt pleased with these recent developments— though neither could deny that they would eagerly take back their small and dusty cupboard if it meant they could have their letters.

Just mere days ago they had taken their meagre belongings from out of their cupboard and moved them up to what used to be Dudley’s second bedroom. The room was bare now, except for the odd broken toy and a bookshelf that had a few untouched books resting on its shelves. There was a small desk against one wall and an old, single bed resting against the other. It wasn’t fancy, far from it actually, but it was the best room either of them had ever remembered having.

More letters had continued to come, pouring in through every possible crevice in the typically neat and tidy house. Finally, Uncle Vernon had decided enough was enough and furiously packed up everyone into the car. Now they were here, in an old, run down shack in the middle of the sea, the sound of the wind and rain roaring outside echoing constantly. There was no heat or food— the latter of which hardly affected the twins, they were used to no food after all.

Rose could not deny the surge of vindictive glee she felt at her hulking cousin whining about being hungry.

Their uncle had made an abysmal attempt at creating a fire using old wrappers that had been found around the shack; they didn’t burn, instead they shrivelled up into a small, melted plastic ball. This didn’t bother Uncle Vernon though, as he spoke in a cheerful voice.

“Could use some of those letters now, eh?”

It was late now, the storm raging on outside, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia took the only room and were quick to go to sleep and their whale of a cousin, Dudley, took up the only couch. This left Harry and Rose to curl up on the floor, sharing a small strip of what could hardly be called a blanket. The two were up waiting for midnight to arrive— something they always did on the eve of their birthday.

Fifteen, fourteen…

“Maybe the roof will cave in,” Harry whispered to his sister.

… eleven, ten…

The wind gave an ominous howl outside.

… eight, seven… 

It would probably be warmer , Rose thought.

… six, five…   

Harry sent her a wane smile, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

 … three, two…

The sound of waves could be heard crashing against the rocks that the shack was perched upon.

 … one…

Boom!

The twins shot upright; their eyes wide as they looked at the door. Rose reached out to grab Harry’s hand as they realized that someone was outside, knocking to come inside.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Dudley sat up with a snort, muttering something about a cannon, while their Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia came rushing out of the bedroom with a slight crash. Vernon had a rifle clutched in his beefy hands, glaring heatedly at the door, while Petunia hid behind his large body in fear.

“Who’s out there?” Their uncle shouted in what he clearly thought was an intimidating voice. “I warn you— I’m armed!”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then—

Crash!

The door to the tiny shack came bursting in, flying off the hinges as the screws holding it up shot across the room, and landed on the floor with a thunderous smash.

A hulking figure lumbered through the now open doorway with slow but loud steps, ducking his head under the doorframe as he did so. He had a wild mane of hair that obscured most of his features, except for his eyes, his eyes glittered from the depths of hair. He wore a dark and dirty looking coat and did not look at all fazed by Uncle Vernon’s threat as he picked up the door off the floor and placed it gently in front of the doorway, muffling the sound of the storm outside only slightly.

As the stranger trudged over to the couch, telling Dudley to budge up, he looked towards Harry and Rose and smiled brightly, greeting the two happily.

“An’ here’s Harry and Rose!”

The conversation that followed was one that neither twin would ever forget. At long last they learnt the truth about their family, about their world. Finally, they were given an escape from the Dursleys, one that had them clutching each other's hand when they realized.

If being outright told that they were a part of magical community was exciting, then actually seeing said magical community was—

Exhilarating.

After learning everything they needed to immediately know from Hagrid— the strange giant of a man who broke into the small hut they had been holed up in— they ate some of the birthday cake he had brought them and went to sleep. It was a minor miracle that either of them could fall asleep after what they heard.  

Now they were walking through Diagon Alley— a place in the magical community that was filled with shops and people— and were heading for the wizarding bank; Gringotts. Which, according to Hagrid, was run by goblins.

Harry could not deny the slight feeling of doubt he had every time he and Rose learned something new.

Walking in through the Leaky Cauldron— a dreary and dark looking pub in London— was an… unusual experience. Hagrid had told them that they were famous but seeing people’s actual reactions to them was jarring. Harry and his sister wound up shaking the hands of almost everyone in the pub; some more than once.

When Hagrid opened up the magical doorway hidden in an innocuous looking alleyway, and they got their first real look at the magical world, Harry and Rose were in awe.

Walking across the cobble-stone path, they looked into each and every store along the way with wide and curious eyes. There was one that had a broomstick advertised on the front that Harry wanted to get a closer look at and there was an Ice Cream Shop that had a brightly coloured sign stating: fifty new flavours to try! One shop filled with owls, their hooting heard even from outside, and another was a bookstore that had Rose squeezing Harry’s hand tightly. One place had to be a potions store, with the strangest looking ingredients that either of them had ever seen in their whole life proudly displayed in the shop window.

Gringotts was an impressive sight on its own. The floor a cream-coloured marble and a wide entranceway with a sign displaying a rather impressive threat. To their left and right were long stations set up with goblins dressed in scarlet and gold uniforms, each one standing behind the counters dealing with clients, writing in books and counting and weighing coins. Behind these goblins were more doorways than either twin could count, leading off to who knows where.

Hagrid didn’t hesitate to lead the twins over to a free goblin.

“Morning,” Hagrid said happily. “We’ve come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter’s and Ms. Rose Potter’s safe.”

“You have their key, sir?”

Hagrid mumbled about having it somewhere before he started rummaging through each of his pockets, dumping their contents onto the counter. The goblin sneered as some moldy looking dog biscuits were dropped onto his book. Harry tugged on Rose’s hand as he looked over and saw another goblin weighing large glittering rubies.

At last Hagrid held up a tiny golden key. “Got it.”

The twins watched with bated breath as the goblin looked at it closely.

“That seems to be in order.”

There was an immediate sense of relief that flooded through both of them when he said this. It was a bit hard to believe at times, all this stuff about the magical community and Hogwarts, a magical school that they would soon be attending. They were both worried about the cost of things, not sure if what Hagrid said about their parents leaving stuff for them was enough or even true.

“An’ I’ve also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,” Hagrid said importantly, throwing out his chest. “It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”

As the goblin read the letter carefully, Harry craned his neck slightly, even though he had no hope of seeing what was on it. Rose just narrowed her eyes slightly before scanning their surroundings— again.

“Very well,” he said, handing it back to Hagrid, “I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!”

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all his belongings back inside his pockets, he and the twins followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off into a hall.

“What’s the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?” Harry asked, making Rose smile briefly. Her brother’s curiosity was unparalleled.

“Can’t tell yeh that,” Hagrid said mysteriously. “Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore’s trusted me. More’n my job’s worth ter tell yeh that.”

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised while Rose just ticked her brows up slightly but otherwise gave no reaction.

They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in— Hagrid with some difficulty— and were off. They hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn’t steering.

Harry’s eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late— they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

“I never know,” Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, “what’s the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?”

“Stalagmite’s got an ‘m’ in it,” Hagrid said. “An’ don’ ask me questions just now, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Rose let out a small huff of amusement at Hagrid’s answer, Harry grinning at her as he heard it.

Hagrid did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last, he got out slowly, leaning against the wall to stop his knees from trembling. Harry and Rose followed him out, both showing much more composure than the tall man, and eyed the goblin who made his way over to a small door in the passage wall.

Griphook unlocked the door and a lot of green smoke came billowing out, as it cleared Harry gasped, squeezing his sister’s hand tightly. Inside were mounds of gold coins, columns of silver, heaps of little bronze coins. Rose eyed the vast fortune, absently thanking whatever deity was out there that their greedy relatives never found out about this.

“All yours,” Hagrid said with a smile.

Harry blinked in disbelief. He made to move forward but stopped when Rose squeezed his hand. Glancing at his sister he saw her incline her head towards Hagrid and then Griphook; Harry’s brow furrowed for a slight second before understanding. Nodding slightly, he smiled over at Hagrid, asking the man to help him put his and Rose’s money into a bag.

As Hagrid explained the magical currency, Harry could see Rose move to stand next to the goblin, murmuring something to him quietly. It wasn’t often that Rose chose to speak but when she did it was usually very important. He’d ask her about it later and hope she was in a bit of a sharing mood. If she wasn’t that was fine, Harry trusted her more than anyone or anything, he knew every choice she made would be the best for the both of them. It was just that Harry’s curiosity was an uncontrollable monster.

He really couldn’t help it.

After Hagrid and he had gathered what Hagrid considered to be a good amount for the two of them, Hagrid turned to where Griphook and Rose were standing by the cart. “Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?”

“One speed only,” Griphook said with a faint smirk on his face.

They were gathering more and more speed as they went deeper. The air freezing as they whizzed around the corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault seven-hundred-and-thirteen had no keyhole.

“Stand back,” Griphook said importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. “If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there.” 

“How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?” Harry asked.

“About once every ten years,” Griphook answered with a rather nasty grin.

Harry began to imagine what was inside the vault. It had to be something magnificent if it had that kind of security guarding it. His brain was conjuring up images of jewels and riches but when it opened, he was rather disappointed. It looked empty at first, but as Harry and Rose both craned their necks to look inside, they could see a small grubby looking package wrapped up in brown paper in the middle of the vault. Hagrid did not seem at all surprised as he picked it up, tucking it into his coat.

Rose flicked the side of her brother’s head as she saw him open his mouth to ask about the package again. Harry pouted slightly but had to admit it was probably not a good idea for him to ask and that, given Hagrid’s earlier response, he likely wouldn’t get an answer either.

After that Hagrid was more than eager to leave the bank, so clearly not a fan of Gringotts’ mode of transportation.

One wild cart ride and a short walk later, the three stood blinking in the face of the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn’t know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He wanted to check out the broom store he saw early or maybe the ice cream shop. Harry already knew Rose would want to go to the book shop, which he would admit was likely the best place to go as they needed books for when they went to school.

“Might as well get yer uniform,” Hagrid said while nodding toward a shop that had neatly dressed mannequins in the window. The sign on top of it read: Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, kids, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” He did still look a bit sick so Harry and Rose both nodded in understanding.

Harry and Rose entered the shop hand in hand, Harry a bundle full of nerves while Rose looked around curiously. Harry noticed Rose subtly move her hair in front of her, obscuring the scar on her neck for the most part and he instantly flattened his hair across his forehead to try and do the same with his scar.

Madam Malkin, the elegantly stitched name on her robes identifying her to the twins, was a smiling witch who dressed impeccably— which made sense as she designed and sold clothes for a living.

“Hogwarts, dears?” she said, when Harry opened his mouth. “Got the lot here— another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

She ushered them through her shop, passing by an assortment of fabrics and decorative robes hung up around the store, and stopped by an archway that led to the back of the shop, smiling as she gestured for them to head in.

The back room had multiple stools placed in front of a row of mirrors, hanging on one wall were shelves with rolls of measuring tapes, pins, scissors, and other sewing items resting on its surfaces. There was a decorative room divider in the centre of the room, blocking their view of the other side, and standing on one stool was a small, pale haired boy with another witch pinning his robes in seemingly random places.

“You can stand up here, young man,” Madam Malkin said to Harry, gesturing to the stool next to the blond boy. “You, young lady, can come over to this side,” she told Rose, leading her to the other side of the room divider.

Harry pursed his lips slightly as he got on the stool, hoping that Madam Malkin wouldn’t need to ask any questions as he doubted that his sister would answer. It seemed he would not have to worry about that as she came back over to his side of the shop fairly quickly. She pulled a long black robe over his head and immediately got to work.

“Hogwarts?”

Harry glanced over at the boy next to him; he had a rather bored expression on his face, his chin raised as he spoke.

Nodding silently, Harry let his gaze flicker over to the divider, wishing Rose was nearby. She wouldn’t join this conversation but Harry always felt calmer when she was around.

The boy went on talking about his parents and buying a broom and smuggling it into school. The entire conversation had Harry strongly reminded of Dudley; the boy's voice was entitled and spoiled sounding.

“Have you got a broom?”

“No,” Harry said.

“Do you play Quidditch?” He drawled on, undeterred by Harry’s short replies.

“No,” Harry replied again, feeling more uncomfortable with the lack of knowledge he had about anything the boy was talking about. The boy continued to prattle on about his father and Hogwarts, making his clear disdain for any Hogwarts House besides one called Slytherin.

Harry jumped slightly as the boy suddenly cried. “I say, look at the man!” He pointed over to the window and Harry turned and saw Hagrid’s smiling face as he held up a tray with three cups of ice cream on it.

Harry smiled slightly, a bit pleased that he finally knew something the boy apparently didn’t. “That’s Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts.”

The unlikable boy proceeded to insult Hagrid, acting as if he knew him personally— which he clearly did not— and Harry didn’t hesitate to inform him that he liked Hagrid. Harry was more than ready to be done talking with him, his overall impression only souring further the more their conversation dragged on . The boy then looked at Harry with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” Harry said shortly.

“Oh, sorry,” the other said, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”

“They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.”

“I 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. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said. “That’s you done, my dear.” Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool at once. He wanted to say he had never met someone so bigoted but that wasn’t really the truth. This boy was exactly like his relatives, looking down on anyone who was the slightest bit different.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” the drawling boy called.

Harry didn’t even bother answering as he hustled to the other side of the room, hesitating only for a second before going past the divider.

Rose was standing on a stool like the ones on the other side of the room; one of the shop-workers was stepping back and telling her she was done just as Harry wandered over. Stepping off the stool she reached out and tugged Harry towards her, leaning close to whisper in his ear.

“I want us to get regular robes too, at least four outfits each.”

Harry was a bit surprised but wasn’t against the idea. Actually, he felt a bit excited at being able to buy an actual wardrobe for the two of them, something that wasn’t hand-me-downs from Dudley.

Grabbing his sister’s hand he pulled her back into the other room, past the rude boy, and towards the front of the shop where Madam Malkin was waiting to ring them up. The two of them walked up to the till, getting a polite smile from the owner of the shop.

“All ready, dears?”

Harry cleared his throat, nervously pushing up his glasses with his free hand. “Actually, we wanted to get some outfits for the both of us…maybe four each?”

Madam Malkin nodded easily as she pressed a few more buttons on the cash register. “Did you have anything in particular in mind?”

Harry glanced at Rose, who just raised her brows in response. “Uh, no,” he said slowly. “We don’t really know much about what magical people wear… so whatever you suggest should be good— I think.” Harry internally cringed at how awkward he sounded and when his gaze flickered to Rose he could instantly tell that she was amused at his rambling. He squeezed her hand in retaliation.

Madam Malkin did not seem at all bothered by Harry’s lack of knowledge, nodding once in reply. “If you come back in a few hours we can use the measurements from your school robes to put together a few outfits. I’m thinking at least one in green for the two of you, it would bring out those lovely eyes of yours.”

Harry grinned shyly, happy that the woman was willing to just take the reins on this. He nodded eagerly. “Okay, we’ll come back in a while,” he promised.

“Alright, dears.”

The two of them walked out of the shop and were instantly greeted by a happy Hagrid who held out the tray of ice cream to them. Harry grabbed two of them, passing one off to Rose, before he dug in. It was good ice cream but his mood was a bit sour due to his conversation with the kid in the shop. He shook his head, trying not to let his mind linger on it for too long.

“Where should we go next?” Harry asked.

Rose immediately pointed towards the bookstore— of course. Hagrid agreed with her choice, saying they could go grab their schoolbooks and any other ones they might want.

Flourish and Blotts was the store of Rose’s dreams. With shelves and shelves filled to the brim with books that reached up to the ceiling and with more magical categories then either twin could comprehend. The shop was fairly packed, no doubt plenty of other kids of all ages and their parents coming in to get their own school books for the new year, but the place wasn’t uncomfortably crowded or loud.

“Yeh got yer school list?” Hagrid asked.

Harry dug for the slightly wrinkled list in his pocket with a nod. He pulled it out and scanned the titles on the page trying to imagine what it would be like to actually learn the things in the books. Rose grabbed his wrist and he looked over at her. She pointed at the list and then held up two fingers before gesturing over to one of the aisles.

He couldn’t help but smile; he figured this would happen. “I’ll grab our books Ro’; you can just find ones you wanna read.” Rose wasted no time, pausing only long enough to give Harry a quick smile in thanks, and headed off down an aisle. Harry looked back to Hagrid and saw the large man watching after Rose with an odd expression.

“Yer sister loves reading, eh?”

Hagrid didn’t sound upset or even put off by the idea which was the main reason Harry answered honestly. “Yeah, it’s her favourite thing to do. She loves learning new things.”

Now the man chuckled lightly. “Sounds just like yer mother,” he told Harry, smiling down at him. “She was always reading one book or another. Come on, let’s go get yer guys’ books.” Hagrid headed off towards another aisle on the other side of the shop without pause while Harry followed behind, feeling his heart stutter at the casual relay of information about his mother.

It was still strange to him— understandably so. Just yesterday they were forbidden to even bring up their parents or anything that could be considered ‘freakish’. Now they were in a magical alleyway, in a magical shop, with a much larger than average man who was casually mentioning their parents.

Strange.

The fact that the shop wasn’t too crowded today was a small blessing. Harry did not want every stop they made to be like the scene in the Leaky Cauldron. As someone who has spent the vast majority of his life trying to blend into his surroundings and was actively told to pretend he didn’t exist, suddenly being the sole attention of a crowd of strangers was nerve racking. During their trek through the shop Harry mostly followed behind Hagrid, reading out the name of each book as he asked for it.

When they finally gathered the last one they headed to the counter where Rose was already waiting for them with eight books stacked up in front of her. Two looked pretty thin, about the thickness of a pencil, four were as wide as one of those big phonebooks and the last two were about the size of an average book.

“Got some light reading then?” Harry asked teasingly, grinning when he saw Rose’s mouth quirk up into a smile.

With little fanfare Harry dug through his and Rose’s bag of money for the correct amount and the three of them headed off. The rest of their time gathering their school supplies was rather mundane, Rose rolling her eyes fondly as Harry tried to buy a gold cauldron. They spent quite some time in the store that sold school trunks as Rose was determined to find the perfect one— she had a lot of must-haves on her ideal trunk list once she heard the attachments and accessories that trunks could have. Then, at last, they made it to one of their final stops.

Ollivander’s shop was an old, somewhat run down, looking place. The sign having long since faded away and the walls a dusty looking grey. Perhaps the man liked it that way though? Who’s to say. When they entered the shop a tiny bell above the door rang and the air was charged with a sense of energy that had Harry grabbing Rose’s hand tighter while Rose quickly scanned all visible areas. Hagrid seemed fairly at ease in contrast, stepping up to the wandmakers till with little hesitation.

Mr. Ollivander was an old looking man with long grey hair and eerie piercing eyes. He wandered up to them with an intent expression, murmuring softly as he moved.

“Hmm, I was wondering when the two of you would be here.”

He did not stop moving as he spoke, his eyes flickering between the two of them. “It seems only yesterday your parents were in here buying their wands. Your mother had a ten and a quarter inch long, swishy wand, made of willow. Nice for charms work. The two of you have her eyes.”

He was right in front of them now, looking torn between who to stare at the most, not blinking once.

“Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it— it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

Mr. Ollivander reached out to try and touch the scar on Harry’s forehead only for Rose to pull him back before could. The wandmaker's gaze flickered towards Rose, eyeing her blank expression and hard eyes, then glanced down at the scar on her neck.

“I’m sorry to say that I sold the wand that made those.” He told them softly. “Thirteen and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I’d known what that wand was going to do to our world…”

The man shook his head, before turning to Hagrid, commenting on his wand as well. Harry glanced over at Rose nervously, off put by Mr. Ollivander. Rose squeezed his hand comfortingly, her own shoulders losing their tenseness now that they weren’t Mr. Ollivander’s direct focus.

“Well, now,” Mr. Ollivander said suddenly, making Harry and Rose turn to him quickly. “Let’s see what I can find for you two.” He took out a long tape measure, holding it stretched out between both hands. “Wand arm?”

“Er–” Harry stuttered. “I’m right-handed...”

Rose just held her left hand up in reply.

“Alright,” Mr. Ollivander said eagerly. “We’ll do you both at the same time; tends to help with twins most of the time. Hold out your arms.” He measured Harry and Rose from, what felt like, every possible angle. Rose was beginning to wonder about the man's credentials as the tape measure measured the distance between her nostrils, shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round their heads.

“Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. and Ms. Potter. 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.”

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure was doing its work on its own as Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

“That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. “Right then, Ms. Potter. You give this one a try. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave.”

Rose picked up the wand and gave it a little swish, not feeling anything particularly monumental about it. Mr. Ollivander snatched it back.

“Hmm, not quite. Almost but not quite.”

“Mr. Potter, you try this one. Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try—”

Harry tried— but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

“No, no— here, Cedar and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.”

Harry tried, his hand tightening around the handle, but yet again Mr. Ollivander took it back.

“Almost, almost.”

Harry continued to try. And Rose continued to try. Neither was sure what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

“Tricky customers, 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.”

They both reached out to grab the wand as one, but as soon as their fingertips touched it, they felt a surge and then—

Bang!

The twins jumped back while Hagrid stepped forward, his one hand moving in front of the two of them. Mr. Ollivander only stared wide eyed at the now broken wand. The wood seemed to have split in two, the edges burnt black, and the phoenix feather Mr. Ollivander just told them about was clearly visible.

The feather itself was a beautiful mix of orange and red, like a small flame nestled in the centre of what remained of the wand. Reaching out Mr. Ollivander went to pick up the feather by its end and let out a soft gasp as the feather fell into two.

“It’s still intact,” Mr. Ollivander said in wonder. “It should have been destroyed, or at the very least rendered unusable,” he shook his head in disbelief. He looked up at the twins who had their necks stretched out in order to see around Hagrid’s arm. “Here, here,” he said to them quickly, holding out half a feather in each hand.

Harry and Rose shared a quick glance then reached out to take one feather each. Their eyes widened as they felt a hum surge through them when they held the feather, a warmth spilling through their chests.

“Yes, yes, that’s the core for you.” Mr. Ollivander said excitedly. “Now we just need the wood of the wand.” He turned around heading off into his back room quickly, muttering, “I know which ones to use,” as he went.

Harry and Rose continued to stare at the feathers in their hands, unwilling to move, lest they lose this warm feeling in their chest. It was only when Mr. Ollivander came back, holding a block of two different woods in each hand, did they finally look away.

“Yes, for you Ms. Potter, Beechwood should do.” He placed down the pale wooden block in front of her. “And you Mr. Potter, I think Cedar will do for you.” He placed the darker, more reddish block in front of him. When the twins just stared at him, he urged them on. “Go on, give them a feel.”

Both feeling just a little bit foolish, Harry and Rose reached out with the hands not holding the feathers and brushed their fingertips along the wooden blocks in front of them. They let out a gasp as the same surge of warmth rushed along their hands.

“Those are the ones,” Mr. Ollivander murmured, sounding pleased. “You’ll have to come back for them in about an hour,” he told them as he reached out to take the feathers from a reluctant Harry and Rose. “I’ll have to add the cores to the new woods and get the wands ready for you.” He nodded to himself as he moved the block of woods and feathers to the side. “How curious... how very curious...”

Harry glanced over at his sister. “Sorry, but what’s curious?” Rose couldn’t deny that she was curious too about the wandmaker's comment.

Mr. Ollivander turned back and gave them a piercing stare.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. and Ms. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather will be in your wands, gave another feather— just one other. It is very curious indeed that you two should be destined for these particular wands when their brother— why, their brother gave you those scars.”

Harry swallowed and clenched Rose’s hand, absently aware of her thumb brushing back and forth on his hand comfortingly.

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…I think we must expect great things from the two of you… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things— terrible, yes, but great.”

Harry shivered as Mr. Ollivander said this, a deep sense of dread creeping up his bones. Feeling a tug on his hand he looked at Rose and she scanned his face for a quick moment then jerked her head to the door. Harry swallowed, giving Mr. Ollivander one last look, the man already heading off to his back room, before he nodded and turned to leave.

“Ah, how bout we head in here?” Hagrid said after they walked a little further down the street, smiling at them as he pointed at a large sign that read: Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Harry suddenly remembered Hagrid’s promise of buying them an owl as a birthday present. “Uh,” he stumbled for words a bit awkwardly. “You don’t have to get us anything.”

Hagrid shook his head. “Nah, I want to. Owls are dead useful to have, they carry yer mail an’ everythin’.” Leaving no room for argument Hagrid headed into the shop, the twins trailing behind him.

The inside of the shop was... not as smelly as one would expect. You would figure a shop filled with animals would have a bit of a stench to it but apparently not this one. The shelves were stacked with treats and food and books on how to care for your owl. There were glittering cages hanging from the ceilings all around the shop.

“Here we are,” Hagrid announced, his arms gesturing at all the different owls in front of them.

Harry and Rose exchanged a look then shrugged simultaneously, heading off to look at each one. All of them were very beautiful, with lush feathers in white, grey, black and brown. There were even a few hawks, a raven and one eagle but neither twin was interested in those ones. The two were beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed with all the choices when a flash of white crossed their vision. A beautiful snowy white owl with large intelligent eyes sat perched on one of the stands in front of them. Rose reached out and brushed the back of her fingers against its feathers, smiling when it leaned into the touch with a soft coo. Harry smiled and looked over at Hagrid.

“This one.”

A few minutes later, the twins had a box of owl treats and a golden cage that held the beautiful owl which was fast asleep with its head under its wing. Harry stuttered out his thanks, while Rose watched their new owl softly. As they walked down Diagon Alley Rose pulled Harry to a stop, pointing over at Madam Malkin’s shop.

“Oh,” Harry said in surprise, “I almost forgot. We have to go back and get our robes,” he told Hagrid, looking up at him. Hagrid looked a bit puzzled; they hadn’t mentioned that they ordered more than just school robes, but he nodded along easily enough, helping them cut through the growing crowd with ease. While they made their way inside Hagrid leaned against the wall outside to wait.

“Ah, right on time.”

Harry and Rose turned to the till Madam Malkin was standing behind, a pleasant smile on her face. She had two bags in front of her with a decorative H.P. on one and R.P. on the other. “Four outfits for each of you, plus two school uniforms.” She rattled off the price for them as she nudged the bags forward towards them. Rose rummaged through the money bag while Harry picked up the bags off the counter. Handing over the correct amount, Harry softly thanked the woman for her help, getting another smile and a nod in reply.

As soon as they stepped back outside, Hagrid called out. “Yer wands should be about ready now.”

While making their way back to Ollivander’s shop Harry couldn’t help but think over the man’s words again, letting Rose tug him along as they went. He felt unbelievably pressured about all of this. They had only been in the magical world for a few hours and already it seemed like everyone had these impossibly high expectations for them. Harry knew Rose would meet them, she was the smartest person he knew, and she always did everything perfectly. Harry on the other hand... He didn’t do as great. In school they weren’t allowed to do better than their cousin, but Rose still made sure to learn everything she could— Harry honestly thought she probably knew more than most teenagers— but Harry, while he wasn’t as bad as his cousin, didn’t exactly get award winning marks either.

There was a soft ding that let Harry know they were at the shop. He entered with great trepidation; he didn’t think he could be more nervous than the first time he came in here but...

“Ah, there you are.”

Mr. Ollivander was just coming out of his back room, a box in each hand. His eyes were just as nerve racking as they were earlier, much to Harry’s displeasure.

“Mr. Potter, here’s your wand. Cedar with a phoenix feather core, eleven inches.” He slid one box over to Harry and then slid the other towards Rose. “And you Miss. Potter. Beechwood with a phoenix feather core, ten and-a-half inches.”

Handing over the correct amount of money, and more than ready to get out of there, the three of them left the shop and finally made their way out of Diagon Alley, heading back into the Muggle world.

Hagrid happily told the two of them that he’d buy them both a burger.

Entering a rather generic burger shop, they all sat in silence on the hard plastic seats— Hagrid just barely fitting on his— eating their burgers. Rose had her school list out and was reading through it, wanting to make sure that they had gotten everything they needed, and Harry was staring around at nothing and everything all at once. Everything was—

Strange.

“Yeh all right, Harry? Yer very quiet,” Hagrid remarked softly.

Hagrid’s comment made Harry want to smile. They’d spent the whole day with the man and Rose hadn’t spoken a word and yet Hagrid was remarking on his silence. It made Harry like the man even more. He never questioned why Rose didn’t speak, he just accepted it silently without judgement.

Rose glanced over at Harry when he didn’t answer Hagrid, poking his ribs lightly.

Harry huffed as he leaned away from his sister. He couldn’t explain what his problem really was. His life had likely changed for the better today; he and his sister finally had an escape from the Dursleys. Harry chewed his burger for a few moments, trying to straighten out his thoughts.

“Everyone thinks I’m special— we’re special,” he said slowly. “All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander… but I don’t know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I’m famous and I can’t even remember what I’m famous for. I don’t know what happened when Vol– sorry— I mean, the night my parents died.”

Rose’s brow furrowed and she reached out to squeeze Harry’s hand comfortingly while Hagrid leaned across the table with a kind smile.

“Don’ yeh worry, Harry. Yeh’ll learn fast enough. Both of you. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, yeh’ll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it’s hard. Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll have a great time at Hogwarts— I did— still do, ’smatter of fact.”

With those parting words of encouragement, Hagrid led Harry and Rose to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed them an envelope.

“Yer ticket fer Hogwarts,” he told them. “First o’ September— King’s Cross— it’s all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she’ll know where to find me…”

Rose had already opened her envelope and swatted Harry in the stomach, getting a small oomph in response, and pointed at the location for the train. Harry frowned. “Hagrid,” he asked as they started getting on the train. “Where’s platform nine and three-quarters?”

“Ah,” Hagrid said. “It’s in the pillars b’tween platform nine an’ ten. Yeh just gotta run straight at ‘em.” He got off the train and gave them a wave. “See yeh soon, kids.”

The train pulled out of the station as Harry and Rose exchanged a slightly bewildered glance. Harry, wanting to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight, lifted from his seat and pressed his nose against the window, while Rose continued reading through their tickets, comparing hers and her brothers.

Chapter Text

The last month of living with the Dursleys was... quiet. It was better that way though, so neither Harry nor Rose minded; they had each other after all. Their relatives avoided them like the plague now, not even Aunt Petunia bothered to make them cook only having the two of them do their regular chores and then get out of her sight. Dudley had an appointment to be taken to a doctor to get the pig tail Hagrid had given him removed, something that still had Uncle Vernon glaring at them with a vengeance, but it worked out as it meant the twins had a ride to Kings Cross Station.

Until it came time to leave for the upcoming school year Harry and Rose stayed holed up in their newly acquired bedroom, combing through the books they had all bought, the rest of their supplies sprawled out across their floor. Rose had wanted to look through everything more closely as she could since she had only given it all a brief glance when they were in Diagon Alley. Harry had only skimmed through most of the books but read through some of the more interesting looking ones. He even found a name for their owl in one of the books! Hedwig . Rose on the other hand was slowly but surely memorising every word in each book. 

Harry was sure she’d be one of the smartest ones at Hogwarts when they got there. 

Rose thought he might be a bit biased with this statement, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. The two of them talked for hours about what house they wanted to be Sorted into as well— Harry was pleased to say he now knew all four Houses at Hogwarts and the qualities they were associated with.

Where was that obnoxious blond kid now? 

Harry wanted to be in Gryffindor, according to some books Rose bought that was the House both their parents were in. The only thing was Harry wasn’t sure he was brave enough to be in Gryffindor— something that had Rose flicking him on nose for saying. Harry was easily the bravest person she knew; he was always standing up for the both of them. Yeah, he may run from time to time but being brave wasn’t about constantly fighting, it was about making a stand when it mattered most. 

And Harry always did.

Rose wanted to be in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Harry was a little wary of the idea of being in Slytherin himself, more for the fact that it seemed like it was far from the most likeable House and Voldemort was apparently once in it, but he could understand his sister's appeal. The Slytherin House was known for being cunning and ambitious; if those weren’t the perfect words to describe Rose he didn’t know what was. So, no matter what House she was in, Harry would support her.

Always.

“No matter what, we’ll have each other,” Harry had whispered to her one night when they were discussing the Hogwarts Houses and Rose nodded slowly in agreement. “Pinky promise?” Harry prodded, holding up his pinky in front of her.

Laughing quietly, Rose linked her pinky with his. “Pinky promise.”

That was a bit of a tradition for the two of them; both only breaking out pinky promises when it was truly serious. They had never broken one yet and didn’t plan too anytime soon.

The major thing both twins were worried about was the fact that they were gunning for different Houses and it was looking very likely that they’d be Sorted into those Houses. See the thing was, Harry and Rose have never spent a day— or night— apart; they’ve never even slept in separate beds! So now that they were very likely to be Sorted into separate Houses for the vast majority of the year— Houses that they got the impression were sort of enemies— was kind of terrifying. They tried not to dwell on those thoughts too much though and made sure to make all sorts of plans to meet up when they weren’t in classes or in their dorms.

All in all, Harry and Rose had some mixed feelings about their journey to Hogwarts but were excited more so than anything else.

When the first of September arrived Harry and Rose had gathered everything they needed into their trunks, Rose as careful as ever as she sorted their things into their respective trunks, then Harry, Rose, and all three Dursleys piled into the car. That morning, and for the entire drive to the train station, Harry and Rose didn’t let go of each other’s hand once. Ever since finding out about Hogwarts and the magical world there was this small voice in the back of their minds that tried convincing them that this was some long joke set up by their relatives. The only thing that quieted this voice was their books— physical written proof that this wonderful world existed. Those books were now locked up in their trunks though and that despairing voice was quickly trying to make itself heard again.

Their uncle stopped the car in the parking lot of the train station— none of the Dursleys spoke a word during all of this— and he lumbered out of the car, hauled their trunks from the boot and dropped them on the pavement. It was an oddly nice thing for him to do, Harry noted as he and Rose followed behind and Rose clutched Hedwig’s cage in her hand. Uncle Vernon glanced down by the platforms and then looked at the twins with a mean grin.

“Don’t see a platform nine and three-quarters,” he commented in a nasty voice, stomping back over to the car again. “Perhaps they haven’t built it yet.” With those last few biting words their uncle got in the car and drove off, the sound of their relatives' raucous laughter heard loud and clear.

Harry felt his stomach twist in worry. What if Hagrid was wrong about how to get to the platform? What if this was just some kind of trick? What if they couldn’t get to the platform at all and were stuck at the train station? Before Harry could really work himself up into a full-blown panic attack Rose squeezed his hand. 

Hard.

“Ow!” Harry complained, frowning at his sister and getting a sweet smile in return.

Letting go of her brother’s hand, Rose moved to attach Hedwig’s cage to her trunk and then picked it up, motioning for Harry to do the same. Harry smiled fondly, he didn’t know what he would do without Rose, if she hadn’t been here he wouldn’t have even asked Hagrid about where platform nine and three-quarters was and then he would have shown up here completely clueless. 

As the two dragged their trunks down through the platforms Harry pondered over what he might have done without Rose. Maybe he would have asked one of the adults around the train station, he pondered to himself as he looked at the numerous faces he passed. A stalky security guard was standing by one of the pillars; maybe I could have asked him , Harry thought quietly. Finally, they reached the pillar they needed and the two stopped for a moment to glance at each other. Rose lifted one brow and smirked at Harry— you ready? Harry’s mind supplied for her— and he grinned back.

“Let’s do this.”

Without any delay they grabbed the end of their trunks and began to push them forward as fast as they could. The crowd around them blurred as the pillar grew closer and closer. The two only had a split second of doubt before they closed their eyes and met the pillar and when no crash came Harry and Rose’s eyes flew open.

They did it.

A beautiful scarlet steam engine was parked next to the platform that was packed with people; the vast majority of which were adorning beautiful looking robes. There was a constant buzz of people talking and they could spot some owls taking off into the air here and there, while others were still in their cages attached to some trunks. Rose tugged on Harry’s arm, gesturing to the side not wanting to be standing in their current spot in case someone else came running through and he didn’t hesitate to start moving too. The two of them shuffled over to a compartment near the end of the train, listening in on conversations as they went.

When they reached the steps that led into the last compartment Harry went to put Hedwig in first but froze when Rose reached to stop him, glancing over at her he saw his sister looking above them. Following her gaze, he caught sight of an owl flying off into the distance. Harry frowned and stared at Hedwig.

“Do you want to fly there or ride in here?” Harry asked her softly.

Hedwig tilted her snowy white head before ruffling her feathers and hopping forward in the cage. Rose quickly undid the latch and let it open, watching alongside Harry to see what their owl would do. They thought maybe she would ride with them as she didn’t move at first, but she ruffled her feathers again and shot out of the cage and into the sky. After making one loop past them first, Hedwig headed off into the same direction as the other owls.

“Well, at least she won’t be cramped in the cage any longer,” Harry mumbled, thinking about how their relatives refused to let her spend time out of her cage at Privet Drive. They didn’t want the neighbours asking any questions. Rose hummed in agreement and turned back to her trunk, trying in vain to lift it. She gave a small huff of laughter when Harry dropped his own on his foot.

“Need a hand?”

Harry and Rose’s heads jerked up and they saw two identical boys standing in front of them. They had flaming red hair, a mass of freckles across the bridges of their noses and matching brown eyes. Their eyebrows were raised as they looked at the twins in question.

“Yes, please,” Harry said at once.

Grinning, the two boys grabbed Harry’s trunk first, lifting it with much more ease than either Harry or Rose had, and then they grabbed Rose’s trunk too. Harry was glad for their help, making sure to say thanks on his and Rose’s behalf once everything was safely stored away in their compartment, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he did so.

“What’s that?” One of the twins asked suddenly, pointing at Harry’s forehead.

“Blimey,” the other one said. “Are you—”

“I think they are,” the first twin cut in. “Aren’t you?”

“What?” Harry asked in confusion while Rose grabbed onto his hand, glancing around them quickly to make sure no one else was listening.

“The Potter twins!” The twin redheads chorused.

“Oh,” Harry said in realization. “Er—yeah…”

The two gawked at the Potter duo, making Harry squeeze Rose’s hand tightly, before their mother called them from outside. With one last glance at them, the two left.

Harry let out a relieved sigh, sharing a glance at Rose. “How often you think stuff like that is gonna happen?” He asked rhetorically, getting a small snort in reply.

Moving over to sit by the window Harry looked out at all the people on the platform. Parents and relatives were all around saying goodbye to their children for the time being. Harry was absently aware of Rose puttering about their compartment— no doubt looking for one of her books to read— when he spotted a bundle of redheads.

He instantly recognized the twins who had helped him and Rose. Around them were four other redheads; a boy who looked younger than them, but was close to their size, an older looking boy with a shiny badge in the shape of a ‘P’ pinned on his robes, a tiny girl bouncing in her spot and a stout woman who was fussing over the lot of them. Harry got comfortable in his seat, listening to their continuing conversation.

“Now, you two—” their mother was saying sternly “—this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you’ve– you’ve blown up a toilet or—”

Harry raised his brows in surprise at this. Clearly the two were troublemakers if that was the first thing that came to the woman’s mind when it came to misbehaving. He smiled at the twins’ witty retort to their mother’s lecture.

“It’s not funny. And look after Ron.” She told them both firmly.

“Don’t worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us.”

“Shut up,” the boy, Ron, said. His nose was pink for some reason, as though he had been rubbing at it.

“Hey, mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?”

Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn’t see him looking.

 “Who?” Their mother asked indulgently.

“The Potter twins!”

Harry had just started to hear the little girl speak when Rose cleared her throat. Whipping his head to the side Harry was greeted with the sight of Rose standing in front of him watching Harry with narrowed eyes. She stared at him for a few moments before she touched her nose and pointed at him and he frowned in affront. “I’m not nosey!”

Rose lifted a brow, her gaze flickering to the window and back to Harry.

“That’s not being nosey,” Harry denied, “I’m just… curious.”

He got a set of rolled eyes and pursed her lips in response, Rose visibly fighting off an amused smile. She knew she didn’t succeed at all when Harry sent her a sunny grin. Before either one could say anything else a loud whistle was heard and they both glanced upward as one then at each other.

“This is it, Ro’,” Harry whispered, excitement creeping through his veins.

Rose beamed, sitting down next to her brother with a decent sized book in her hand, and the two turned to the window as the train slowly started to move; the families of the students passing them by with an accelerating speed. They both let out a loud breath of relief as they finally began to leave behind their life at Privet Drive. It wasn’t long before the door of the compartment slid open, and the youngest redheaded boy Harry had been spying on peeked in.

He pointed at the seat opposite of the twins awkwardly. “Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full…”

Harry shook his head while Rose just opened up her book, getting comfortable in her seat. Ron glanced at Harry and Rose then quickly looked out the window. Harry couldn’t help but notice a black mark on his nose.

Maybe that’s why his nose was red earlier?

The silence they had fallen into was broken by the sound of the compartment door opening again. It was the same twins.

“Hey, Ron.”

“Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train— Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” Ron mumbled, nose scrunching up a bit.

“Harry, Rose,” the other twin said, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.”

“Bye,” Harry said to them both while Rose watched silently. The twins flashed easy grins as they shut the door behind them.

“Are you really the Potter twins?” Ron blurted out after a few seconds.

Harry nodded, glancing at Rose briefly. She eyed Ron for a moment before going back to her book, tuning the two of them out for the most part.

“Oh— well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George’s jokes,” Ron explained as he rubbed the back of his neck. “And have you really got— you know…”

His gaze flickered to Rose’s neck, where her scar could clearly be seen then pointed at Harry’s forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs, showing his scar to a gawking Ron.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who—?”

“Yes,” Harry said, “but I can’t remember it.”

“Nothing?” Ron prodded eagerly, making Rose glance up at him with a slightly incredulous look.

“Well, I—” Harry paused for a split second, gesturing between him and Rose. “ We remember a lot of green light, but not much else.”

“Wow,” Ron said. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then his gaze turned to Rose who was still watching him, a judging look having crept onto her face. Ron quickly looked out the window, grimacing slightly, clearly realizing that he should not have been questioning them about that particular topic. Harry asked Ron if all of his family were wizards, feeling a bit of sympathy for the other boy. He had been on the receiving end of that same look Rose had given him after doing something obviously stupid— he did not wish it on anyone else.

Ron nodded. “I think so. Mum might have a second cousin who’s an accountant? I’m not really sure.”

“You must know a lot of magic already then…”

Harry thought back to his conversation with the unpleasant blond boy. He had spoken of old wizard families, maybe the Weasleys were one of these families.

“Uh—” Ron seemed to be scrambling over what to say. “I heard you guys went to live with Muggles… What are they like?”

“Horrible.” Harry said in a deadpan. “Or— at least the Muggles we grew up with are. I can’t speak for the rest of them,” he conceded with a small shrug. “Must be nice to grow up with three wizard brothers.”

Rose shot Harry a look that— to Harry— screamed ‘What? Am I not enough?’ Harry grinned slightly, shaking his head at Rose’s indignation.

“Five,” Ron informed Harry and for some reason he was looking rather gloomy. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left— Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Now Percy’s a Prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks, and everyone thinks they’re really funny.

“Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat grey rat, which was asleep. Harry could feel Rose shift away from Ron’s direction— she was never a fan of rats or mice. It made day’s they spent in the garden very exhausting.

“His name’s Scabbers and he’s useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a Prefect, but they couldn’t aff— I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”

Ron’s ears went pink. He seemed to think he’d said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Harry wasn’t at all fazed by the idea of not having enough money to buy an owl. Up until a few weeks ago he and Rose had no money whatsoever, forced to live off whatever scraps their relatives deigned to give them. He told Ron as such, telling him about their hand-me-down clothes and their lack of birthdays and proper presents. It seemed to cheer Ron up, which Harry was happy for.

Harry was in the middle of explaining how he got his Hogwarts letter and how Hagrid told them about the magical world. “… We didn’t have a clue about the magical world, or our parents or Voldemort—“

Ron gasped.

“What?” Harry asked, a bit alarmed.

“You— you said his name,” Ron stuttered, looking faintly impressed.

“Oh,” Harry said in realization. He had thought perhaps it was just Hagrid who refused to say Voldemort’s name… apparently not. “I’m not trying to be brave or anything,” Harry hurried to explain. “It’s just I never grew up knowing we weren’t supposed to say his name. You see… I’ve got loads to learn…” Harry’s voice began to carry the weight of the worries he had about being in the magical world. “I bet I’ll be the worst in the class.”

He got a sharp poke to his side at that, his sister glaring at him in reprimand.

Harry smiled lightly. “Maybe not the worst,” he reluctantly allowed. “Ro’ wouldn’t let that happen.” He looked over at Ron with a grin. “I’m certain she’ll be one of the best, she’s beyond smart.” Rose slapped her hand over Harry’s mouth, glaring at him even more so now, something that had Harry letting out a muffled laugh.

“You won’t be the worst,” Ron said reassuringly. “There’s loads of people who come from Muggle families that learn quick enough.”

Rose removed her hand from Harry’s mouth and pointed over at Ron in agreement, giving a firm nod, and then went back to her book. Harry sighed in reluctant agreement and glanced out of the window. They had long since left behind the London scenery and were now passing by fields filled with cows and sheep. He and Ron made idle conversation while Rose immersed herself back in her book.

It wasn’t long after noon when there was a knock on their compartment door and it was slid open. A woman with a happy, dimpled smile greeted them.

“Anything off the carts, dears?”

Harry jumped at it straight away, eager to look through the assortment of magical sweets. He and Rose were never allowed sweets of any kind, Dudley always demolishing any in sight. They shared a chocolate bar once; Dudley had left it on the back porch after running off to hang out with his friends. Harry was sure he’d forgotten all about it and nicked it, it had been all melted from sitting in the sun and Rose just had one bite before she pulled a face and refused to have anymore, but Harry thought it was delicious. He grabbed a few of everything, wanting to give Rose options as well as have some for himself. Taking his haul, he dropped them onto the seat between him and Rose.

Ron eyed their pile. “Hungry, eh?”

“Starving,” Harry said emphatically as he took a large bite out of one of the treats. Rose picked up another, taking a small bite and grimacing, quick to hand it off to her brother.

Ron took out a lumpy package out of his pocket. “Mum always forgets I don’t like Cornbeef,” he muttered as he opened it up.

Rose flicked Harry’s ear and he looked over at her with cheeks like a chipmunk. He glanced over at Ron and hurriedly swallowed what he had. “Swap you for one of these?” He asked, gesturing to their pile.

“Er—” Ron mumbled. “No, that’s alright—”

“Go on,” Harry urged. “We could use the help finishing it all. I doubt Ro’ will eat much.”

Rose nodded in agreement, grabbing something at random and handing it off to Ron. The Cornbeef sandwich continued to lay on the seat forgotten and the pile of sweets slowly diminished, not able to withstand the hunger of two boys. Harry marvelled at the Chocolate Frog card he had gotten and Rose leaned over to get a look at it too. Apparently portraits in the magical world moved on their own. Rose had that look on her face that told Harry she wouldn’t stop reading until she figured out exactly how the pictures were able to move around.

It was a while later that there was a knock on the door yet again and a round-faced boy poked his head in. His eyes were red and teary.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “but have any of you seen a toad?”

The three of them shook their heads, and the boy’s face fell even more.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Harry said awkwardly, feeling bad for the other kid.

The boy dubiously agreed and left once more.

Ron glanced over at Harry, “don’t know about you but I’d count my blessings if I lost a pet toad.” He frowned down at his coat before conceding. “Mind you, I got Scabbers, so it’s not like I have room to talk.”

Harry smiled in amusement, looking at the lazy looking rat.

“He doesn’t seem like the most exciting pet,” Harry agreed jokingly.

Ron laughed. “Yeah, I tried to turn him yellow yesterday.” He told him with a grin. “Didn’t work out too well, but if it had at least that would be interesting.”

Harry laughed with him before encouragingly saying. “Try it again!”

Grinning brightly Ron started rummaging through his trunk, mumbling to himself as he did, and pulled out an old and worn looking wand. “Here it is!” Ron shoved his sleeves up as he turned to face Scabbers, Harry and Rose both watching with interest.

Just as he lifted his wand into the air the compartment door slid open without so much as a knock. A small girl with very bushy brown hair and front teeth that were just a tad too large waltzed in, behind her was the round-faced boy from earlier.

“Have any of you seen a toad? Neville lost one.” She spoke in what could only be defined as a bossy voice. Her chin was up in the air and her shoulders back as she looked at them. Ron was just telling her that they already told Neville they hadn’t seen one when she interrupted him.

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it then.”

Harry and Rose glanced at each other at the girl’s bluntness— bordering on rudeness. Between this and her barging into their compartment without even knocking first— honestly, what if someone had been changing in here?— Rose was not at all endeared to the girl. Ron glanced over at the twins with an incredulous expression as the girl sat down, clearly waiting for Ron to do his spell.

“… all right.” Ron said slowly.

Lifting up his wand again, Ron cleared his throat and spoke, waving his wand as he did so.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”

Nothing happened. Neither Harry nor Rose were terribly surprised, it did not sound like much of a spell.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” the girl asked. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard— I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough— I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

Harry had never heard a person speak so fast and so much. Though, to be fair, he spent all of his time with Rose who was not one for talking at all.

“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered somewhat reluctantly, eyeing the girl warily.

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry offered, then pointed at Rose. “This is my sister Rose.”

“Are you really?” Hermione said in interest. ““I know all about you two, of course— I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

“I’m aware,” Harry murmured absently. Those books were some of the ones Rose had gotten when they went shopping with Hagrid and she had told him all about their supposed heroic act. Neither of them really bought it; clearly this girl did though.

“Do any of you know what House you’re going to be in?” Hermione asked. Honestly, they were due to get whiplash soon with how quickly she hopped between subjects. “I’ve been asking around about them and I’m hoping for Gryffindor. It sounds, by far, the best. I heard Dumbledore himself was in it. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be so bad either… Anyway, we’re going to go and look for Neville’s toad. You had better change into your school robes, we’ll be there soon.”

With those parting words of advice, the talkative girl left, dragging Neville behind her as she went.

“Whatever House I’m in, I hope she’s not in it.” Ron said with a shake of his head. He frowned at his wand, tossing it away. “Stupid spell. I should’ve known it wouldn’t work when George gave it to me.”

“What House is he and Fred in?” Harry asked curiously while Rose went back to her book, interest fading now that the prospect of spell casting was gone.

“Gryffindor,” Ron told him as a frown pulled at his mouth again. “That’s the House my whole family was in, mum and dad too. I don’t know what they’ll do if I’m not in it. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world; imagine if they put me in Slytherin.”

That had Rose looking up fast, frowning at Ron unimpressed.

“What’s wrong with being in Slytherin?” Harry asked shortly, a matching frown on his face. “Ro’ wants to be in Slytherin.”

Ron froze and then looked at them hesitantly. “It’s the House You-Know-Who was in…” he stuttered out. “I thought you guys of all people…”

Harry was glaring at Ron now. True he wasn’t all that thrilled at the thought of being in that House, mainly due to the unlikable boy he met at Madam Malkin's and the fact that Voldemort was in it, but he wasn’t about to let someone make his sister feel bad for wanting to be in it. “Slytherin is the House of cunning and ambition. Just because one really bad guy came from it that means the whole House should be shunned?”

Ron scrambled a bit, his eyes wide. “It’s not just one guy though! Everyone knows that the worst of the lot come from that House.”

“Does that mean that the other three Houses produce nothing but good people?” Ron opened and shut his mouth uselessly for a few moments, unable to think of anything else to say that wouldn’t sound worse than this. Harry glanced at Rose, who was now glaring at Ron fiercely. Looking back to Ron he asked. “Is this going to be a problem, or do we have to leave?” He felt a poke on his side and corrected himself. “Or— since we found this compartment first— are you going to have to leave?”

Ron floundered; his eyes still wide as he looked between the two of them. He shook his head slowly, muttering a quiet, “sorry…”

He glanced over at his sister, who was still watching Ron with a cold look, before he decided to change to subject.

“So, what do your older brothers do?”

Ron answered a bit hesitantly at first and then gratefully seized the change in topic. He told them about Charlie, who was working with dragons in Romania, and then told them about Bill, who worked in Egypt somewhere for Gringotts. Immediately after saying this, he told them about a break in at Gringotts that had been reported in the wizarding newspaper.

“Really?” Harry asked, he and Rose both losing the slight tenseness they had gained after talking about Houses.

Ron nodded quickly. “Yeah, it’s a pretty big deal too cause no one was caught apparently. Everyone’s a bit scared, understandably, you’d have to be a pretty powerful wizard to break into Gringotts and not get caught.”

They didn’t linger on that topic much longer. Ron switched over to discussing Quidditch which, after learning Harry did not know what it was, resulted in a long in-depth explanation about the sports league. It did sound interesting enough, Harry only partially following along as Ron brought up what must be team names and players in the professional league.

Eventually their conversation was interrupted, yet again, by their compartment door opening. Seriously, did no one stay in their own compartments?

This time it was someone Harry recognized. The unlikable boy from Madam Malkin’s shop strolled in, his nose in the air and an arrogant expression plastered on his face. Behind him were two hulking boys that looked more like bodyguards than friends.

The boy glanced between the three of them, his gaze lingering on Harry and Rose. “I heard the Potter twins were in this compartment. Is it you two?”

“Yeah…” Harry said slowly, not wanting much to do with the boy but not wanting to be outright rude to him. The boy was very pale, Harry noted, not something he really observed in Diagon Alley. Sure, he noticed his hair, a blond so pale it was nearing white, but his skin was pale as well and his eyes were a silvery grey colour. His robes were the only thing that seemed to hold colour and the black fabric had his already pale features becoming even more distinct.

“I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” The boy introduced himself with the air of someone who expected everyone to already know his name. Rose was sure it was the last name that was supposed to be more recognizable considering it’s the name the boy offered first.

Ron gave a cough that sounded more like a poorly muffled laugh and Draco Malfoy’s gaze shot to him.

“Think that’s funny, do you?” He asked sharply, staring down at Ron as though he were a slug. “I don’t need to ask your name. My father told me all about the Weasleys. Red hair, freckles and dressed in rags.”

He turned back to Harry and Rose, clearly dismissing Ron.

“You’ll quickly realize that some wizarding families are far better than others. I can help you out with that, you wouldn’t want to mingle with the wrong sort.”

He held out his hand to Harry and Rose, neither of whom moved to shake his hand.

“I think we can figure that out on our own.” Harry said coldly. He couldn’t believe the arrogance of this boy. To waltz into their compartment like it was his own, insult the boy they spent the majority of this trip with and then just expect them to shake his hand? Finally the boy seemed to gain some colour, his face flushing pink in the face of Harry’s rejection.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said slowly. “Unless you’re a bit politer the two of you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it’ll rub off on you.”

Both Harry and Ron stood up, Harry pulling Rose further away from Malfoy and his goons.

“Say that again,” Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

“Oh, are you going to fight us now?” Malfoy sneered.

“Unless you get out now,” Harry said firmly. He didn’t like their odds as Crabbe and Goyle were far bigger than him and Ron and there was no way Harry was letting Rose fight, but he’d try his best. He would not just let these gits try to steamroll over them.

“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys? We’ve eaten all our food and you still seem to have some.”

Goyle was the one to step forward after Malfoy said this, his pudgy hands reaching for the pile of sweets. Ron rushed forward but before either boy could reach their intended targets Goyle let out a yelp.

Swinging his hand around it didn’t take them long to see Scabbers hanging onto Goyle’s finger by his teeth. Goyle swung his hand around frantically while Malfoy and Crabbe rushed out the door. With one last swipe through the air Scabbers went flying through the air and Goyle took off after the other two boys. Ron rushed over to pick up Scabbers, Harry and Rose craning their necks to see if the rat was okay.

“I don’t believe it,” Ron muttered. “He went back to sleep.”

Harry snorted while Rose pursed her lips in an effort not to smile.

“What is going on?”

Hermione Granger was back in their doorway, looking over the three of them and the mess of sweets.

“You know Malfoy?” Ron asked Harry, ignoring the girl.

Harry recounted his encounter with Malfoy in Diagon Alley.

“They’re a rotten family,” Ron told Harry darkly. “They were followers of You-Know-Who and my dad said when the war was over Malfoy’s father came forward saying he had been bewitched. Dad doesn’t believe it, everyone knows how the Malfoy’s feel about Muggles and Muggleborns, they didn’t need anyone to force them to join You-Know-Who.” He glanced over at Hermione now as he placed Scabbers on his seat. “Can we help you?”

“Are you fighting? We’re nearly at Hogwarts, I went and asked the conductor up front. You shouldn’t be fighting; it would not do well to get in trouble before you even get to Hogwarts.” She told them smartly. “You also should have your robes on, I told you that earlier.”

“We weren’t fighting,” Ron denied. “Scabbers was. Now can you leave? We need to change.”

Hermione just looked at Ron unimpressed. “I was just checking up on things, there were some people being terribly troublesome, running up and down the halls. I’ll leave now— by the way, you’ve got some dirt on your nose.” She informed Ron in a sniffy voice before turning and heading off again. Did the girl sit at all during this trip? Harry wondered.

Ron scrubbed at his nose irritably.

With the subject of changing coming up Rose moved towards the door, pointing between Harry and Ron when her brother looked at her. Harry nodded in understanding. Stepping into the narrow hall, she closed the door behind herself, glancing down each way. A distance away she could see the vague shape of someone moving between compartments.

“We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train as it will be taken to Hogwarts for you.”

Rose looked up as the voice spoke overhead then peeked down the hall as the sound of loud laughter could be heard.

It wasn’t long before they were standing in a large foyer of Hogwarts. After exiting the train, they were taken on a small boat ride, Harry, Rose, Ron and another small student had shared a boat, and they were guided by none other than Hagrid. 

The first look at Hogwarts was, in short terms, magical. The majestic looking building stretched up into the evening sky, twinkling lights visible through numerous windows spanning across its surface. After they had been directed off the boats, all the little first years huddled together and followed Hagrid up an old, yet grand looking staircase. 

It was there that they were all greeted by Professor McGonagall— a woman that had to be the phrase ‘no nonsense’ personified. She wore a stern expression, her eyes scanning them intently as she gave them the basics of the Hogwarts Houses and the rules they would be following. She left for only a short moment— during which they each got their first look at the Hogwarts ghosts— before returning to gather them all and usher them into what they were informed was the Great Hall. The room where they would be Sorted in front of the rest of the school as well as where they would gather for every mealtime from here on out. 

It was a familiar sight to a great deal of those seated throughout the hall. A new pack of first years huddled together as they awkwardly shuffled forward to the opposite end of the room. There they were met with a small four-legged stool with a worn and dirty looking hat perched atop it. 

Just behind the hat was a long table with numerous people seated behind it, all facing the students. The expressions on their faces varied, though the vast majority looked happy and welcoming— but there were a few exceptions. These were the professors that taught at Hogwarts as well as the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, who was seated at the centre of the table. To his left was an empty seat, presumably for Professor McGonagall. 

Professor McGonagall stood next to the stool silently, not making a move to speak. An action that confused the new students at first, that is until the hat’s brim pulled open, and it began to… sing . Everyone listened on as the self-proclaimed Sorting Hat sang its song for them all, introducing itself and each of the Hogwarts Houses. When it was finished the Hall broke into applause before quieting down as it gave a small bow by way of a minute bend of its pointed peak.

After that, Professor McGonagall pulled out a long scroll, instructing them all to come forward when their name was called and without further ado called out the first student’s name. Everyone listened on eagerly as the new students were Sorted, each row of tables clapping generously as someone was Sorted into their House. Some were Sorted very quickly while others took a while for the Sorting Hat to call out their House. 

At last came a name that most were almost unconsciously waiting for. 

“Potter, Harry!”

Whispers immediately followed the name. Students leaning over to talk to those sitting next to them while others sat up straighter trying to catch a glimpse of Harry Potter. 

One dark-haired boy stepped forward and everyone watched as he let go of the hand of another small first year, her hair just as dark as his own. Without any further hesitations he stepped toward the stool taking a seat on it. They only got a short look at him, but it was enough for now.

Harry Potter’s hair was a wild mess on his head, seeming to have a life of its own— something that the professors noticed was very similar to his late father’s— and he had some of his hair swooped down over his forehead covering up the infamous scar. There were more than a few people wondering if this was done on purpose. He had round glasses perched on his nose and a rather pale complexion.

His hands clutched the edge of the stool anxiously as he waited for the Sorting Hats assessment before it finally called out—

“Gryffindor!”

The Gryffindor table broke into a ruckus applause, the Weasley twins both shouting out their glee at getting Harry Potter. Harry quickly made his way off the stool and took a seat, a relieved smile on his face, then turned to his sister and tried to give her an encouraging smile. 

“Potter, Rose!” 

The hall quieted down and broke out into whispers yet again. Everyone trying their hardest to see the other Potter twin. 

The second Potter twin walked up to the stool, taking a seat just as her brother and countless others did before her. Much like with Harry Potter the hall's view of Rose Potter was short but just long enough for them to get a good look.

Where Harry Potter’s hair was short and wild, Rose Potters was long, reaching halfway down her back in waves. She looked very similar to her brother, which was not surprising. Perhaps when they grew older, they would start to look less alike, age more than likely to shape them in different ways. Unlike her brother her forehead was not hidden behind her hair, and it did not bare a scar. Her throat did though, and it was on display unashamedly as though she could care less about someone seeing it. Also, unlike her brother, she did not have glasses, though her skin was as pale as Harry Potter’s was.

As the Sorting Hat was placed upon her head, she sat straight with her hands set still on her lap. She exhibited none of the nerves that her brother had, even as her Sorting dragged on as long as Harry’s did. Finally, the Sorting Hat’s brim pulled open, and it shouted—

“Slytherin!”

Shocked silence met that Sorting but was quickly broken by Harry Potter, who clapped happily while he smiled brightly at his sister. 

If the lack of reaction affected Rose Potter, she did not let it show. Instead, she placed the hat down onto the stool and made her way over to the Slytherin table, smiling faintly at her brother as she went. By the time she sat down there were scattered claps heard around the hall as some people overcame their shock over her placement. 

Professor McGonagall continued the Sorting, her shocked expression quickly going back to her regular stern look. She called the next student to be Sorted as the rest of the hall pondered over the Potter twins’ Sorting. Harry’s was as most expected; of course it was what they expected. They defeated the Dark Lord, what other house better suited them then the House of the brave? The House of Godric Gryffindor. Rose’s was the shock. How had she been Sorted into Slytherin ? The same House that the man who murdered her parents was known to be in.

Harry hadn’t seemed upset or even shocked. Had they talked about what Houses they wanted to be in before they got here? Twins being in different Houses was not unheard of. There were a pair of twins Sorted into different Houses just before the Potters; one in Gryffindor and the other in Ravenclaw. 

Albus Dumbledore eyed the two twins for a brief moment, lingering on Rose Potter for a beat longer than her brother. He made the quiet decision to not let this particular Sorting linger upon him for too long, pulling himself together in time to make his customary speech. He was a firm believer in short introductions, no use keeping the kids hungry any longer. He gave them all a bright smile, happy to see them all and sat back down. 

Severus Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Albus’ speech, they were getting even more ridiculous as the years went on. His gaze shifted back to his Slytherins, checking quickly to make sure each one was eating. He caught sight of Rose Potter again, his face pulling into a sneer automatically. She had a plate in front of her and ate as though unaware of the looks her housemates were giving her. Each one likely wondering the same thing as their Head of House. How exactly was this year going to go with one of the Potter twins in Slytherin? 

Rose Potter was well at ease while eating her supper; in fact, she was very pleased. The meal was one to remember, one without the Dursley’s glaring at her or having barely anything placed on her plate. The looks she was getting from her housemates, as well as a few from the other tables, did not bother her. She was used to getting looks like this, only before it was kids in a cafeteria who eyed her and Harry as though they were contagious.

Her conversation with the dubbed Sorting Hat was an interesting one. She yearned to stay up there longer, to ask it all its secrets and every piece of information it had. It had seriously debated putting her in Ravenclaw, her thirst for knowledge abundantly clear, but it eventually decided that, while she had a mind that soaked up information like a sponge, her ambition far outweighed it. Rose wasn’t terribly surprised. She had plans, that was a fact, and every single plan included her brother. The two of them, sticking together no matter what. The Sorting Hat briefly mentioned Hufflepuff, telling her that her loyalty was truly limitless, but it had to admit that her loyalty was only to one person, so perhaps Hufflepuff wouldn’t suit her after all.

Rose knew that she would have gotten this type of reaction. The reputation of the Slytherin House was a mostly dark one, even more so since Voldemort made his attempt at taking over. She did, however, find it ridiculous. How did the House a child was Sorted into at the tender age of eleven determine the type of person they would become? She could hardly fathom the level of naivety one had to have in order to buy into this mentality. No doubt there were people from each of the other Houses that turned out rotten to the core. Odds are that whenever it happened people wrote it off as a one off and made themselves forget about it.

Rose was mostly glad that Harry got into the House he wanted to, she knew he would not have done well with the kind of stares she was receiving. The only part of her that wasn’t glad was the part that was acutely aware of the fact that, for the first time in their lives, they were going to be separated. Just the thought of this had her chest feeling pinched. She subtly took a deeper breath, trying to calm herself as she continued to eat.

Rose did not bother to try to make conversation with any of the other first years in Slytherin. From the looks of it the Malfoy boy seemed to hold a lot of sway over the lot, so far it seemed only for his family name, and the few that didn’t seem to follow his lead had enough sense not to make an outright enemy of him. This largely left Rose to her own devices as the arrogant blond had made his distaste for her clear already.

As it were, her and Harry’s reputation proved to be a small mercy. Slytherins appeared to be a survivalist bunch that cared about public appearance for the most part and as such would not go out of their way to make an enemy of her either. Obviously it would not suit their families well, especially if they were well-known dark families, to have their child feuding with one of the saviours of the wizarding world.

Rose didn’t buy into the notion that Harry and her destroyed the Dark Lord, it just wasn’t feasible, no her money was on their parents using some old magic to keep them safe. The books she scoured before coming here had said that the spell used on them was one that none had ever survived. She was willing to bet that a few of the more experimental wizards had tested this theory numerous times, trying to see if they could find a way around the spell, because of this their parents couldn’t have used just any spell to save them. No, it had to be something ancient and powerful.

Glancing up around the hall Rose caught Harry’s gaze. He sent her a happy smile and, after looking to his left and right quickly, held up his pinky finger. Rose pursed her lips in an effort not to smile and she could see Harry holding back his laughter too. Something eased in her chest at the sight. Their lives might have taken a rapid turn, and they couldn’t say with certainty if it was an all-together good one, but she and Harry had each other.

Nothing was going to change that.

Chapter Text

The Slytherin quarters were… cozy, in its own way. Rose could see an outsider coming in here and looking at the dark colour scheme— deep greens, greys, blacks, and the odd bit of silver—, the numerous snakes incorporated in the overall design and the not overly-bright lighting and think of as it cold and gloomy, but Rose could see the appeal. It was a mix between cozy and regal— not typically two descriptions that went together.

They had all been sent to their assigned dormitories after supper had drawn to an end and two older kids had been quick to call the first years over to them. The Slytherin dormitories were apparently near the dungeons which filled Rose with a mild sense of amusement. It made sense in a way though; if there were to ever be an attack on the grand building it was far better to be closer to the ground floor rather than high up.

Now all the first years were gathered in what was dubbed the common room— each House obviously had one. There were only a few students present here and there making idle conversation when they stepped inside, likely catching up with each other. Looking further in, Rose could see a clear wall and on the other side of it were the murky waters of what had to be the Black Lake. Bits of seaweed swayed back and forth lazily while the odd creature passed on through. On the opposite side of the room was an ornate looking fireplace with a couch and a few chairs scattered in front of it. There were other seating areas placed throughout the room with coffee tables sitting in the spaces between them, as well as a few big desks. The latter of which Rose assumed was for the kids who would rather study here than in the library or alone in their dorms.

“Listen up,” called out one of the students that led them here. She was an older girl with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had rather nice features, her face a blank mask and her eyes a steely grey. “My name is Gemma Farley,” she gestured to the boy next to her, “and this is Garret Rosier. We are the fifth-year Prefects, if you need something you can come to us to ask. Our Head of House is also available if needed, Professor Snape’s office door is over there.” They all glanced over to where she pointed and saw a dark door with a silver plaque to its right that read: Professor S. Snape. “Over there are the staircases that will take you to your dormitories, first years are on the first floor, boys are on the left and girls are on the right.”

Against another wall just to the right of the fireplace were the beginning of two sets of staircases heading up in opposite directions. In the small space of wall between the two was a simple sign that read: Dormitories.

“Boys cannot enter the girls’ dorms, nor can girls enter the boys’ dorms,” Rosier threw in, looking bored with his apparent assigned task.

“You eat during the assigned meal times and you must be back in the dorms before curfew. You don’t necessarily have to go to bed or even to your rooms, you have every right to hang out in the common room, but you are not allowed to roam the halls after curfew.” Farley spoke evenly, her stance not moving an inch as she relayed all of this. Her gaze flickered behind them to where the entrance way into Slytherin’s common room was and she nodded her head. “Now Professor Snape has a few words to say.”

A few of the kids swung their heads around quickly, not expecting one of the professors to suddenly be present.

Professor Snape was a dour looking man. His hair was dark and lanky where it hung around his face in stringy strands. He had dark, almost black, looking eyes and his face was impassive as he looked over the lot of them. He stood straight with his hands behind his back and was dressed in plain black robes.

“I am your Head of House,” he said in a quiet voice that carried easily in the silence around them. “Any concerns or issues you may have you can come to me for, my office is always open to you.” While his words were what most would consider comforting, his voice did not hold the same sentiment. Perhaps he was just one of those people who could not sound warm and nurturing. “I warn you now, I will not tolerate insolence. The Slytherin House has a complicated history, and we are far from the favourite House.” He looked them all over, scanning their faces carefully. “You will be judged for your Sorting into this House, that I cannot control, so it is of the utmost importance that you maintain a united front. Any difficulties you may have between one another will remain in this dorm, is that understood?” There was a general mumble of agreement from the group of children. “You are not unruly creatures, and you will behave with proper decorum. If, by chance, you are in a situation where the rules simply cannot be followed then you will not get caught. You’ll quickly find that there will be a large number of people displeased with you should you repeatedly lose House points.”

House points. That was something that had been briefly explained to the first years. Apparently throughout the school year the teachers— as well as Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl— would take and give points in both punishment and reward. The points were kept track of in the Great Hall where four big hourglasses stood; there were emeralds for Slytherin, rubies for Gryffindor, sapphires for Ravenclaw and diamonds for Hufflepuff. At the end of each year the House with the most points won what was called the House Cup and got their House’s banners hung up around the Great Hall at the end of year feast.

With one last piercing stare Professor Snape nodded over at Farley and Rosier. “You may head off,” he told the two of them. “As for the rest of you,” he looked back at the group in front of him, “you will head to bed and make sure that you wake up at a proper hour with everything you could possibly need ready.” With those words he spun around, heading towards his office door. “I will hand out your schedules during breakfast tomorrow,” he informed them all as his robes billowed behind him.

The group stood still for only a few moments longer then broke apart, heading towards the dormitories. A few were speaking excitedly with one another while others didn’t offer any comments, simply nodding in agreement with their fellow classmates. Rose didn’t bother with any formalities, she would not talk to any of these children, nor would she feign interest in their chatter. No, all she wanted to do was go over her books again and then try to get some sleep. She did not know how long it would take to fall asleep without her brother nearby, but she hoped that the long day she just had would help her a bit.

She was the first to reach the stairs to the dorms and as she started climbing them Rose thought over the day’s events. She felt rather disillusioned at some of the things she had heard so far. The main thing was the clear separation each of the Houses had with one another; sure, Slytherins’ was more obvious than others, but it was there. She had heard people speaking about Hufflepuff as though being Sorted in there would mean they were weak. Others spoke as if being a Ravenclaw would make one a pretentious snob. Gryffindor’s were jocks; brainless and relying on nothing but brute strength.

When she got to the first-floor landing, she walked across the deep green, bordering on black, rug running across the centre of the hall taking in the dark doors with name plates on each one. Bulstrode. Davis. Greengrass. Parkinson. Potter. The doors were all on one side of the hall and when Rose stopped in front of the last one— hers— she looked over at another landing that led to another staircase. She assumed that they would lead up to the second-year dorms. Parkinson’s loud voice rang out behind her, talking about Malfoy as if he were the next Merlin, and after rolling her eyes Rose pushed her door open and went inside.

The room was… incredible. It was by far the best room she had ever had—though, to be fair, it was not much of a competition. After making sure her door was properly locked Rose began to  scan the room intently. 

Much like the Slytherin common room it was decorated with greens, blacks and silvers but had a lot less snake décor. A large canopy bed—and really, why would a tiny eleven-year-old need a bed that big?— was against one wall with green drapes hung across its frame, silver ropes tying it to the four posts. On either side of the bed were two nightstands that matched the rest of the furniture in the room. There was a large, dark vanity against the wall directly across from the doorway with a tall matching bureau to its right. An open door was to Rose’s left in the far corner of the wall and she could see the marble tops of a bathroom counter and the reflection of a shower in the large mirror that made up the wall above the counter. To the left of this door was a simple yet elegant looking desk with an oil lamp on its surface and a chair in front of it.

Walking further into the room Rose scanned her surroundings carefully getting herself familiar with the room she would spend the next almost-year in. Her trunk was at the end of her bed and she crossed the room to pull it open. She made quick work of pulling up the clothing section of the trunk— and wasn’t it just a marvel that such a thing even existed?

There were seven sections in her trunk, she was not using all of them yet though. One held her clothes, two of them held her books, one was strictly schoolbooks while the other was books she simply wanted to read on her own, another one held treats and such that she and Harry had gotten for Hedwig and the remaining three were empty for now.

Rose had kept Harry and Hagrid in the shop she had bought her trunk at for a long time, she was insistent on finding the perfect one. When she did find what she wanted she made Harry buy a matching one. Her brother was the least organized person she knew, Rose had no doubt that by the end of the year his trunks would be a chaotic mess.

She took her robes and hung them up on the right side of the bureau and folded the rest of the clothes and placed them in her drawers. She then took out all of her schoolbooks, placed them on the desk, and then did the same with her quills and papers for her notes and assignments. She scanned everything carefully before placing them in a magically expanded bag. She didn’t know which classes she would have tomorrow so she wanted to start out with all of her books— Rather have them and not need them then need them and not have them, right?

Once she felt more or less settled in Rose got ready for bed, taking a quick shower and cleaning her teeth. She grabbed her schoolbooks off her desk, tossing them onto her bed, and then grabbed the ones she left in her trunk. Rose spent the next hour going over the books, she had read them all already but she wanted to go over them again as she had something in particular in mind as she swiped through the pages.

There it is.

‘It’ being a spell that kept doors from being unlocked by simple spells or charms. She did not trust her housemates to not try and sabotage her things; one because a life growing up with her cousin taught her to protect what few things she had and two because she was one of the Potter twins after all.

A frown tugged at her mouth as she thought the latter point. Honestly, she was upset with herself for thinking that just because she and Harry had found out that they were part of a magical community that meant that they would finally belong. She thought she had let go of that mentality a long time ago, having given up on it after dealing with constant disappointment and judgement from not only the Dursleys’ but the adults and kids in their day-to-day life.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly counted to ten in her head.

Rose would not make this mistake again. She had Harry, that was all that mattered, everyone else would only disappoint them eventually, that was a proven fact. She and Harry would protect themselves.

Not wanting to linger on her declining mood, Rose stood to cast the spell on her door as well as her trunk— the last one was a bit redundant as the shop keeper said it was layered with multiple security spells, but better safe than sorry. She felt certain that the spells took, feeling a certain hum in the air after she casted it and with a firm nod to herself she quickly put her schoolbooks in her bag and the rest back into her trunk. Laying back on her bed she could feel the swirling thrum of excitement and nerves in her stomach. Tomorrow would be her first day waking up in this world, maybe it would feel more real to her then.

When Rose got down to breakfast the next morning there were only a handful of people in the Great Hall, she walked down the length of the Slytherin table to the same seat she sat in after she was Sorted and wasted no time in eating. She felt pretty good today, it had not taken as long as she had been worried it would to fall asleep last night and she got up early enough that she was able to go through her books one more time. Slowly the hall started to fill up with students and Rose spotted her brother walking in with Ron. She relaxed slightly as she saw he looked rather well rested, silently glad that he hadn’t been up too late.

“I can’t imagine how Potter wound up in Slytherin…” A voice muttered scathingly from down the table.

Rose resisted smirking in amusement at Parkinson’s comment. From what little she had seen the girl was not at all impressive unless you could call pining over Malfoy impressive. She had taken every opportunity offered to her to glare at Rose or just turn up her pug-like nose in obvious distaste. If the girl thought she could hurt or get on Rose’s nerves she was sorely mistaken. Rose had heard and dealt with far worse from her own blood; why would the opinion of some random child bother her?

“Thank you, Professor Snape.”

Turning her head Rose saw her Head of House handing out papers a few seats down from her. Those must be their schedules. When he got to Rose he handed her the paper stiffly and she took it with a polite nod. She got the sense the man did not like her very much, and trust her, she was good at telling when adults disdained her, she didn’t let the fact bother her either as she scanned her schedule, more focused on committing the times to memory.

MONDAY

Class 1: 9:00 am till 9:45 am: Defence Against the Dark Arts

Class 2: 9:55 am till 11:35 am: Defence Against the Dark Arts

Class 3: 12:55 pm till 1:40 pm: Free Period

Class 4: 1:50 pm till 2:35 pm: History of Magic

2:45 pm till 7:25 pm: Free Time

TUESDAY

Class 1: 9:00 am till 9:45 am: Charms

9:55 am till 10:40 am: Free Time

Class 2: 10:50 am till 11:35 am: Transfiguration

Class 3: 12:55 pm till 1:40 pm: Free Period

1:40 pm till 7:25 pm: Free Time

WEDNESDAY

Class 1: 9:00 am till 9:45 am: Herbology

Class 2: 9:55 am till 11:35 am: Free Period

Class 3: 12:55 pm till 1:40 pm: Transfiguration

1:50 pm till 7:25 pm: Free Time

Class 4: 12:10 am till 12:55 am: Astronomy

THURSDAY

Class 1: 9:00 am till 9:45 am: Free Time

Class 2: 9:55 am till 11:35 am: Charms

Class 3: 12:55 pm till 1:40 pm: History of Magic

1:50 pm till 7:25 pm: Free Time

FRIDAY

Class 1: 9:00 am till 9:45 am: Potions

Class 2: 9:55 am till 10:40 am: Potions

Class 3: 10:50 am till 11:35 am: Herbology

12:55 pm till 7:25 pm: Free Time

Class 4: 12:10 am till 12:55 am: Astronomy

Breakfast is at 7:30 am till 8:50 am.

Lunch is at 11:45 am till 12:45 pm.

Dinner is at 7:35 pm till 8:35 pm.

Note: Your Free Time is for you to do as you wish but it is advised to use your Free Periods as time to strictly study or complete assignments/homework.

Rose nodded to herself as she reread the schedule for the fifth time. Turning it over she saw a small rudimentary map scrawled on the back and a key on the bottom explaining where each classroom was and the best route to get there. Her eyes gleamed with interest as she saw the library clearly marked; already planning to go there the first chance she got.

Adjusting the bag of books on her shoulder Rose glanced up in the direction of her brother. She could see him reading a paper similar to her own and further down the table Professor McGonagall was continuing to hand out schedules. Pushing herself to a stand Rose made her way over to her brother, schedule still in one hand, ignoring the few stares she got along the way. When she reached the Gryffindor table Harry looked up and smiled brightly.

“Ro’!”

Rose smiled at her brother’s enthusiasm. That was one thing she loved about Harry; they were almost always together but when they were separated for even a few minutes he always looked excited to see her again. Ron glanced up, mouth full of food as he mumbled a greeting, smiling at her. Rose couldn’t help but smile, nodding at him in return. The redheaded boy was on a bit of thin ice with her over his comment about Slytherin, but she wouldn’t hold one comment against him forever. If he continued to say stuff along those lines though… well that was another story.

“How was your night?” Harry asked her easily, shovelling the last of his food into his mouth.

Rose inclined her head in reply and Harry nodded happily. “Me too! The dorms in Gryffindor are pretty nice. I’m rooming with Ron and three other boys.” He glanced down the table a bit and pointed over at them subtly. “Neville, the boy from the train, and Dean and Seamus. They all seem pretty cool.”

Rose eyed the three boys her brother gestured too, she knew which one was Neville but was not sure as to which was Dean and which was Seamus. She’d find out later she supposed.

Rose absently noted that the Gryffindors shared one dorm, a stark difference from the Slytherin’s who each had private rooms. Or perhaps the Gryffindor girls had private rooms as well? Maybe it was a boy thing to share dorms. As quickly as she thought it, she dismissed that idea. No doubt Malfoy would have been ranting up a storm if he’d been forced to share a room. The boy had privilege written all over him like fingerprints. Shaking those thoughts away she held out her hand, beckoning for Harry to hand over his schedule— which he did so dutifully.

MONDAY

Class 1: 9:00 am till 9:45 am: Defence Against the Dark Arts

Class 2: 9:55 am till 11:35 am: Defence Against the Dark Arts

Class 4: 12:55 pm till 1:40 pm: Charms

1:50 pm till 7:25 pm: Free Time

Class 4: 12:10 am till 12:55 am: Astronomy

TUESDAY

Class 1: 9:00 am till 9:45 am: History of Magic

Class 2: 9:55 am till 10:40 am: History of Magic

Class 3: 10:50 am till 11:35 am: Free Period

12:55 pm till 7:25 pm: Free Time

Class 4: 12:10 am till 12:55 am: Astronomy

WEDNESDAY

Class 1: 9:00 am till 9:45 am: Free Time

Class 2: 9:55 am till 10:40 am: Herbology

Class 3: 10:50 am till 11:35 am: Free Period

Class 4: 12:55 pm till 3:30 pm: Charms

4:35 pm till 7:25 pm: Free Time

THURSDAY

Class 1: 9:00 am till 9:45 am: Transfiguration

Class 2: 9:55 am till 10:40 am: Transfiguration

Class 3: 10:50 am till 11:35 am: Herbology

12:55 pm till 7:25 pm: Free Time

FRIDAY

Class 1: 9:00 am till 9:45 am: Potions

Class 2: 9:55 am till 10:40 am: Potions

Class 3: 10:50 am till 11:35 am: Free Period

12:55 pm till 7:25 pm: Free Time

Breakfast is at 7:30 am till 8:50 am.        

Lunch is at 11:45 am till 12:45 pm.

Dinner is at 7:35 pm till 8:35 pm.

Note: Your Free Time is for you to do as you wish but it is advised to use your Free Periods as time to strictly study or complete assignments/homework.

They shared Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions and also had a lot of coinciding break times; Rose was very happy about that. Glancing at the back of the schedule she noted the lack of map on Harry’s schedule. Huh. The Slytherins’ must’ve been something Professor Snape decided to add himself.

Harry snagged Rose’s schedule out of her hand, going over it as she memorized his. “We’ve got Defence together first thing,” he muttered, sounding pleased. Ron leaned over and got a look at the schedule too.

“And Potions at the end of the week,” he said as wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Harry nodded, noticing that straight away too. Other than that, the two of them didn’t share any classes, but Harry wouldn’t let that bother him too much. It appeared they had a fair bit of free time, so he’d spend that time with his sister. Rose poked Harry’s shoulder and raised her brows when he looked up at her.

“You wanna head to class now?” Harry asked, then answered just as quickly. “All right, breakfast is almost over anyways.”

Rose smiled, excited to head to her first class. She also was glad to move away from the Gryffindor table as well. While its occupants weren’t glaring at her or anything there was a bit of tenseness to those nearest to her as well as some gawking at her scar which was more clear to see than Harry’s. Rose couldn’t help but notice the talkative girl from the train a few seats down with her nose in a book.

Defence was both exciting and annoying. Exciting due to the topic, while Rose had read through the book assigned for this class already she was eager to actually hear it taught and maybe get to see some practical lessons. It was annoying due to Professor Quirrell’s stutter which stretched out sentences that should have taken ten seconds to say into a full minute. If not for the consistent stutter the class would have been amazing. Going to the rest of the classes that week were beyond incredible as well. The first bit of free time they had Rose made sure to drag Harry with her to the library where she proceeded to check out ten different books.

“Ro’, how are you gonna have time to read those while doing your schoolwork?”

Rose ignored her brother as she shoved the books into her bag happily.

Transfiguration was an interesting class, although Harry and Ron were both a few minutes late to the first class. Hogwarts was a big castle, alright? Professor McGonagall didn’t seem too upset with either of them though, something Harry was relieved about. She proceeded to show them a bit of transfiguration, turning her desk into a real live pig and then back again. Harry’s initial impression of her when they first arrived at Hogwarts appeared to be very accurate. She was stern, straightforward and did not take any backtalk, but she was also very knowledgeable and answered any questions the kids had in depth.

Harry knew Rose would love her.

Their assignment for class was to turn a matchstick into a needle. By the end of class Hermione Granger was the only one who partly managed it, which earned Gryffindor a House Point for her effort. Harry absently reminded himself to ask Rose for some help later on after only managing to make the matchstick silver in colour. 

Charms was great too, though it wasn’t Harry’s favourite he didn’t hate it either. Professor Flitwick was a small, kind man who was very patient with all the kids. He would carefully explain every spell they were to use, including its wand movements, before he’d have them try it out. He did topple over with a squeak when he called Harry’s name during the attendance but other than that he was very professional. He also happened to be the Head of House for Ravenclaw.

History of Magic was a downright bore. At first Harry thought it would be great, they had a ghost teaching the class after all! Surely, he must’ve lived through some exciting times! That was not the case. Professor Binns spoke in a monotone voice that was hard not to fall asleep while listening to— it was a double period class too which was outright torture, not to mention Harry was already a bit tired due to being up later the night before for his Astronomy class.

The Astronomy class was an interesting one. After midnight they gathered in one of the high towers and studied the stars with Professor Sinistra while looking through telescopes. Harry had this class two nights in a row, which was a bit tiresome, though the day after one of them he didn’t have a class until just before ten, so he was able to have a bit of a lie in. That was rather great.

Herbology was taught by Professor Sprout, who was also the Head of House for Hufflepuff. Herbology was fairly easy, although not too easy. It was gardening for the most part, which Harry happened to be very good at, something the Dursleys were directly responsible for. The only thing that caused Harry any trouble was the fact that it was all about plants he had never heard of before. Seriously, some of the plants stored there were strange.

Harry knew Rose was having the time of her life. She already read through the books she had gotten that first day they went to the library and now seemed determined to read through every book in the Hogwarts library. How she managed to do this while completing coursework was beyond him. Harry had a new sense of gratitude for his sister. Honestly, he would have been beyond overwhelmed with all the different classes if it weren’t for Rose going through things with him and forcing him to study with her. She also made sure to read over his homework before she let him hand it in too.

He was always more than pleased with himself when she didn’t change too much about his essays.

Friday morning found Harry and Ron sitting at the Gryffindor table eating breakfast. Today they had a double Potions class first thing in the morning but then they would be done for the weekend.

“My brothers told me that Snape tends to favour Slytherins,” Ron grumbled as he wolfed down his breakfast.

Harry snorted. “Wish McGonagall would do that with us.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to Potions or not. On the one hand Harry was a good cook and from the sounds of it making potions was a bit like cooking, right? On the other hand, Harry had gotten the distinct impression that Snape didn’t like him, something Rose agreed with so he knew it must be true. To make things more ominous, the Potions class was down in the dungeons of all places. The classroom was cold and a bit creepy, with jars of who knows what lined up on the shelves all around them. Harry and Rose sat at one table together, setting up their things as they waited for the class to start, the other kids around them doing the same. While Harry wasn’t exactly thrilled about Potions, Rose was in it with him which he was sure would no doubt make up for any bad things about this class.

Famous last words apparently.

You see, Snape didn’t dislike Harry— he hated him.

As Snape strode into the room, his robes billowing behind him as he went, everyone sat up straight in their seats. Snape’s reputation was clearly well-known and no one wanted to get on his bad side. He started off the class very similarly to Professor Flitwick, doing a roll call of everyone. Although unlike the squeak Professor Flitwick had let out, Snape just let out a snide comment alongside Harry and Rose’s names. He then proceeded to give a speech that Harry had to admit was rather impressive— well, up until he uttered the word dunderhead. Harry had exchanged a look with Ron from across the aisle while Hermione furiously wrote down every word Snape said.

“Potter!” Snape said suddenly, looking at Harry. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

What? Harry glanced over at Rose; she probably knew the answer but obviously couldn’t tell him now, Ron looked just as confused as Harry. Hermione’s hand sprung into the air.

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry eventually said.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Tut, tut— fame clearly isn’t everything.”

He ignored Hermione’s hand.

“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

He was still looking at Harry, clearly ignoring Hermione’s hand that was currently stretched as high as she could possibly get it. Harry had no clue what a bezoar was , let alone where he would find one. He didn’t let himself even glance over at where Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were shaking with laughter.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He was slowly being reminded more and more of his Uncle Vernon. Snape had the same ridiculing look that Uncle Vernon got whenever he would taunt Harry and Rose about something.

Snape was still ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand.

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

“I don’t know,” Harry said quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus’s eye and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. Turning on Rose now he spoke up again, his voice just as sharp. “How about you, Miss Potter? I don’t suppose you deigned to open any books either.”

“She won't answer you,” Harry cut in before Snape could comment anything further, a glare forming on his face. While he might sit here and deal with whatever obvious disdain Snape had for him, he wouldn’t just let him bully Rose.

Snape glared over at Harry. “I gave you the opportunity to answer these questions already, Potter, you failed to do so.” Turning back to Rose he ordered. “Now answer the question.”

“I just said she won’t answer.”

Snape looked close to blowing his top and everyone else had gone silent, watching the exchange avidly. Rose, for her part, did not look at all worried by the turn of events. She trusted Harry would handle this however he thought was best.

“And why is that?” Snape asked sharply and Harry could practically hear the scathing comments of their so-called ‘fame’ brewing at the surface.

Looking Snape in the eye, Harry firmly said. “Rose doesn’t talk.”

That had everyone pausing, clearly not expecting that as Harry’s reasoning.

“What.” Snape spoke flatly.

“Ro’ doesn’t talk,” Harry said again, reaching over to hold his sister’s hand in solidarity under the table. 

That finally had the other kids talking, their whispers to one another clearly heard.

“Have you heard her talk?”

“I haven’t heard her say a word all week…”

“I haven’t even seen her speaking to someone.”

“She never talks in the other classes either…”

Snape glanced around at the class that was slowly getting out of hand. “Silence!” Turning away from Harry and Rose he quickly made his way to the front of the room, furiously informing Harry of the correct answers to his question and then questioning why no one was writing anything down.

After that the Potions class was a bit more bearable. Harry and Rose made quick work of their potion, though Harry couldn’t help but think that having Snape hovering over your shoulder making snide comments definitely did not help anyone. Neville in particular. The boy clearly was having trouble and soon managed to give himself painful looking boils, something that had Snape yelling at him and calling him an idiot for. He ordered Seamus to take Neville to the Medical Wing before somehow placing the blame of that situation on Harry and taking another point from Gryffindor.

How was this man allowed around children?

By the end of class Harry was in a foul mood. He, Ron, and Rose pushed their way out of class the second they were dismissed, Ron trying to cheer him up as they went.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Ron said encouragingly. “Fred and George are always losing points. Can I come with you to see Hagrid?”

Rose looked over at Harry in question at the query and Harry explained the note he had gotten from Hagrid during breakfast inviting them over for tea.

“Do you wanna come with?”

Rose shook her head and pointed off in another direction.

“Oh, you have class,” Harry realized. “Well, I’ll tell Hagrid you said hi then.”

Rose smiled, nodding her head in agreement.

They were just entering the entrance hall to head outside when Harry frowned over at Rose. “What class do you have?” He asked, having expected her to break off from them by now.

Rose just gestured to the left as they stepped down the staircase together.

“Ah, Herbology.” Harry looked over the expanse of grass that led to Hagrid’s hut and then at the greenhouse. “Just one period?” He asked Rose, getting a nod in return. “I’ll come meet you when you’re done then.”

Rose gave him a thumbs up— getting a laugh out of her brother in the process— as she headed off in the other direction.

Ron watched her for a moment then quickly caught up with Harry who, unlike Ron, had not stopped. “… why doesn’t your sister talk?” He asked quietly. He felt a bit dense for not noticing before now considering most of his free time was spent with Harry and Rose. One would have figured he would have noticed Rose’s lack of talking.

Harry shrugged. “Ro’s not much of a talker.”

Harry left it at that and Ron didn’t bother to question further as they reached Hagrid’s hut where they were greeted by the happy man. The visit was a good one though both boys learned first hand that Hagrid’s cooking skills left little to be desired. They vented about Snape and Harry gave Rose’s greeting and explained why she didn’t join them. Harry also learnt that the break in that Ron had mentioned on the train had happened the same day Hagrid had taken Harry and Rose to get their school supplies. When he commented this out loud Hagrid got very shifty and changed the topic.

Interesting.

It was not too long of a visit, what with Harry wanting to meet Rose after her class, so after about an hour he and Ron left, calling out their goodbyes to Hagrid, promising to visit again soon. Along the way Harry quietly told Ron about the top-secret package Hagrid had picked up the day he took Harry and Rose to Diagon Alley.

“You think it’s here at Hogwarts now?” Ron asked excitedly.

“Hagrid did say he was picking it up for Professor Dumbledore…”

Ron opened his mouth to speak but before he could he was interrupted.

“Mr. Potter!”

Harry’s head snapped in the direction of the voice and was greeted with the sight of Professor McGonagall standing a few feet away from the greenhouse. She had her customary stern look on her face, arms crossed in front of her.

“Professor McGonagall,” Harry greeted politely, Ron quickly doing the same.

Professor McGonagall eyed the two of them, her gaze flickering over their shoulders to where Hagrid’s hut stood. “I’m going to need you to come with me, Mr. Potter.” Professor McGonagall said firmly as her eyes landed back on them.

“Uh,” Harry said unsurely, “alright… where we going?”

Harry could have sworn that Professor McGonagall was amused at his awkwardness. “We are going to wait for your sister and then we are going to the Medical Wing.” Before Harry could bring himself to a panic, she informed him, “our resident Healer has been made aware of Miss Potter's lack of speech and would like to give her a check-up.”

Harry nodded slowly in understanding. “Alright, but nothing’s wrong with Ro’…”

“Be that as it may, it would be best to have a trained professional determine that.”

Ron muttered quietly to Harry that he’d meet him in the Great Hall for lunch later, not wanting to intrude on whatever medical thing Rose had to do.

“Well, everything seems to be okay with her vocal cords.”

Madam Pomfrey was a very friendly woman, making sure that Rose was completely comfortable with the scans she would cast, she even went as far as to explain them to her, something Harry knew Rose loved. She, Harry, Rose, and Professor McGonagall were all gathered around one of the many beds in the Medical Wing. Rose was seated on its surface while Harry stood beside it while he held onto her hand tightly.

The Medical Wing was a big open area with rows of beds on either side. There were cabinets that looked to be filled with medical supplies and one doorway near the entrance way and two at the other end of the room. Harry knew from the quick look he took when they got here that the room closest to the entrance way was an office of some kind.

Apparently the adults had been worried that Rose’s vocal cords had been damaged during the attack when they were babies. The scans clearly proved the contrary.

“I told you,” Harry said quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with Ro’s voice, she just doesn’t talk.”

“At all?” Madam Pomfrey asked.

Harry frowned. “Well, she does sometimes, just not often… I hear her speak maybe three or four times a month, but she’s comfortable with me.” Rose nodded along with Harry’s assessment, not bothered by the considering looks the two women gave her.

“And exactly how long has this been the case?” Professor McGonagall asked, her gaze flickering between the two of them.

She got a shrug in reply. “Since we were about… six? Seven?” Harry glanced at his sister when he said this, and Rose lifted six fingers. “Six.” He repeated, eyes darting back to the two older women.

Madam Pomfrey shared a look with Professor McGonagall before excusing herself, giving the kids a polite farewell as she went. Professor McGonagall did not move though, instead eyeing the two twins carefully for a moment.

“Mr. Potter, would you wait outside for a moment?”

Harry looked to Rose, scanning her face for any sign of reluctance. Smiling at her brother's worry, Rose gave Harry a reassuring nod that got him moving and as Harry made his way out of the Medical Wing Professor McGonagall made no move to speak, waiting until she heard the door shut behind him.

“I understand that the choice not to speak is of your own choosing and as of now it appears your work is not suffering in the slightest.” Rose’s eyebrows raised slightly, wondering where this conversation was going. “However, if that proves to be the contrary then we shall have to have another discussion,” Professor McGonagall told her, making sure she was following along. “Should you have any questions in my class, or any other one, simply write it on a piece of paper and leave it at the edge of your desk. The other professors and I will make sure to keep an eye out and answer anything if needed.”

Rose felt oddly touched by the offer; she likely would not bother but she appreciated the staff’s effort to meet her halfway. Pursing her lips, she gave the professor a firm nod of understanding.

“Alright,” Professor McGonagall said. “I’m sure your brother is anxiously waiting for you, so you may head off.”

With an agreeing smile Rose hopped off the edge of the bed, making her way to the door and paused as she reached. She rapped on the wood lightly first, waiting only a second after doing so before she pulled the door open.

Harry sprung back from the door he just had his ear pressed against. When his sister inclined one brow at him, he rubbed the back of his neck, smiling at her sheepishly and Rose shook her head in amusement. Rolling his eyes, Harry grabbed his sister’s hand without further delay. “C’mon, let’s go find Ron or something. He’s probably already in the Great Hall eating.”

Chapter Text

Life at Hogwarts moved on easily enough after their visit to the Medical Wing— or as easy as anything in Harry and Rose’s life usually was. Harry’s rivalry with Malfoy continued to build, Malfoy even going as far as to challenge Harry to a wizarding duel at one point. Rose thought Harry was a bit of a moron for accepting and she was proven right as Malfoy didn’t bother to even show, instead telling the miserable caretaker, Argus Filch, where Harry and Ron would be. Though, to be fair, Harry didn’t accept, more so Ron accepted on his behalf.

In a wizarding duel it was apparently a custom to have a Second, someone who would take over the duel should you die or be seriously injured. Of course Ron, being the overly eager boy he was, quickly volunteered to be Harry’s Second when Malfoy brought up the duel.

Luckily Harry and Ron narrowly avoided Filch, as well as Snape, and the detention they both no doubt would have doled out. Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom also avoided this fate, the former of the two having followed Harry and Ron in reprimand and got locked out while the latter forgot the password when he came back from the Medical Wing that evening.

Neville had had an unfortunate flying lesson.

The Gryffindors and Slytherins had gathered outside where Madam Hooch proceeded to teach them how to fly. Harry had been back and forth about the idea, loving the idea of flying but not loving the idea of making a fool of himself in front of Malfoy.

The boy had not shut up about his skills in flying since flying lessons were announced.

Rose had not been as excited to learn how to fly. She did manage it though, better than some but not as good as others. She decided then and there that she’d leave any flying to her brother. She preferred having her feet on the ground, thank you very much.

Neville did not have any luck when it came to flying, quickly losing control of his broom and hurting himself in the process. Madam Hooch had ordered them all to wait there for her while she escorted Neville to the infirmary.

Malfoy, at one point, picked up a Remembrall— a ball that turned red if you forgot anything— that Neville had gotten from his grandma and dropped during his fall. When Harry demanded he hand it over, the spoiled boy threatened to throw in the lake, rising up on his broom quickly. Harry, ever the hothead, jumped on his broom just as fast and flew after Malfoy. What followed was something that impressed the great majority of those watching but scared the living daylights out of Rose. Professor McGonagall just happened to witness Harry’s rather heroic, yet entirely stupid, act and hauled him off.

Harry eagerly told Rose later that evening that the professor had made Harry the Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“The youngest one in a century, Ro’!”

After Rose had given him a look that was slightly dubious, Harry explained that the Captain of the Quidditch team was going to explain the game more clearly to him. Ron had just spoken of the general game and then went in depth on the teams on the train ride to Hogwarts.

Another thing Harry had discovered—

Apparently the night the four Gryffindors were roaming the halls they stumbled upon a locked door in the third-floor corridor— the same one Rose recalled Dumbledore saying not to go near during the opening feast— and behind that door was a massive three-headed dog.

“A Cerberus,” Rose had offered aloud when Harry got to that part of the story.

The verbal comment had Ron looking at her with wide eyes, much to Harry and Rose’s amusement.

So, all in all, it seemed as though they were in for a rather... exciting year. Ron and Harry had not stopped talking about the third-floor corridor where they were absolutely certain a mysterious package Dumbledore had was hidden. Rose did agree with them, she just wasn’t as fanatic about the mystery as her brother and Ron were.

Harry never could resist a mystery.

Malfoy had now doubled his efforts in hassling Harry, going out of his way to make underhanded comments at him. He had tried the same thing with Rose a few times, only in the common room of course, but quickly grew bored of it. Rose did not reply or even acknowledge the boy; clearly Harry was more entertaining to annoy. His latest attempt at getting Harry in trouble for receiving a new broom fell flat as Harry had special permission from Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore themselves.

Harry had dragged Rose with him to the Quidditch pitch the day he was set to be taught by the Gryffindor Captain, Oliver Wood. She listened on as the older boy explained all the rules and players in the game for a few minutes before cracking open the book she had brought along with her. She loved her brother but Quidditch seemed like a dreadfully boring game. Perhaps it would be more interesting in an actual game rather than a practice? She wouldn’t watch any other Houses play of course, just her brothers, and she hoped it would be more exciting then.

Harry had also told Rose about the girl from the train angrily implying that Harry thought he was getting rewarded for breaking the rules.

Honestly, did the girl know how to make friends?

Harry and Ron had told Rose all about how Hermione Granger had alienated the vast majority of her House. While there was nothing wrong with having intelligence, outright shoving it down someone's throat was a whole other story. None of the Gryffindors were all that impressed with being so entirely outdone by the girl, nor were they impressed by her constant need to answer every question in class. Some of the other Houses were unhappy with her too, their chances of answering questions and earning House points now severely limited. They had to take a second to think about the question before raising their hand but by then the bushy haired girl had already maniacally waved her hand through the air and was called on by the professor of the class.

Except Snape. Snape never called on her.

She appeared to keep a close eye on Harry and Ron as well, quick to reprimand them if she thought they were doing something they shouldn’t be. She had stopped talking to them for a short while after the whole midnight duel incident. Clearly that silence hadn't lasted long.

The weeks leading up to Halloween seemed to fly by after that. Harry and Rose made sure to spend as much time together as they could and Ron was quickly starting to understand Rose without her having to talk.

He was immensely proud of this, much to Rose’s reluctantly fond amusement.

Harry’s schedule had started to become more packed as he now had Quidditch practice three times a week to add onto his routine. Honestly, he was beyond glad he had Rose around to help him with homework and keeping him on track— what would he have done without her?

Rose used this time to stay in her dorm to practice the spells they were taught as well as read through other books she got from the library. She was quickly working through every possible category, taking notes on each subject. Things she didn’t fully understand, things she wanted to further research and things she thought Harry would find interesting.

Her brother wasn’t an avid reader like she was but he did have a very keen mind. He was incredibly observant and could pick up things that Rose would often miss. She would frequently run things over with him when she was feeling a bit stuck or confused even when they were living with the Dursleys. Harry always had a rather interesting viewpoint on things and was usually someone who looked at the whole picture rather than each minute detail like Rose did.

So, with both twins finding their own hobbies to focus on outside of their homework and classes, life at Hogwarts grew very routine. They still met up whenever the opportunity arose, both ensuring they did as they were still not used to being apart so much, but now they had other things to keep their minds entertained.

Considering they were at a school where they were being taught magic, this was actually a comfortingly normal thing for Harry and Rose. More so than anything else in their life has ever been before.

The vast majority of those coming into Slytherin knew the intricate workings of the Hogwarts House. They knew how things worked, the chain of command to put it in layman's terms. The only ones who were ignorant to it were those who came from Muggleborn families or first time Slytherin’s in a family. The latter of which didn’t happen too often but there was always the occasional black sheep in families.

Rose Potter, while being a Halfblood, was one of those ignorant to the way things worked. Likely still would have been even if her parents had been the ones to raise her and not the Muggle relatives that everyone was saying she and her brother were living with.

She was an anomaly. An outlier at the moment for Slytherin.

Everyone knew who she was— you’d have to be deaf, blind and stupid to not have heard of her. It was a shock that the girl even wound up in Slytherin with the reputation her and her brother had. The so-called ‘defeaters’ of the Dark Lord.

Yet here she was, placed in the House of snakes.

It was not that she was a nuisance— the exact opposite really. She did not talk to anyone, never tried to make conversation with her housemates or year mates. Not that she’d have much luck with her year mates in Slytherin if Malfoy had any say— which he did. The Slytherin and Gryffindor Potions class had been the talk of the school for the last few weeks, the reveal that apparently Rose Potter did not speak. Well— to no one but her brother.

Harry Potter wasn’t what they expected either, mind you he was a Gryffindor which was close enough for most people. He wasn’t like James Potter though; those who cared enough to look into the Potter family history were quick to notice. Maybe in looks sure, but personality? James Potter had been an outgoing prankster in his youth. Spoiled too, for a great many years— not surprising as he was an only child of two rather old wizards. While he did grow out of his immaturity, he always remained outgoing and popular all through his Hogwarts years.

Harry Potter— well, he was popular, but that was more for his reputation than him. The boy seemed to curl into himself most of the time, avoiding stares at every turn and not speaking to anyone beyond a small handful. He did manage to secure a spot as Gryffindor’s Seeker apparently— the Slytherin team would soon find out if he got it due to his fame or actual skill come November.

The vast majority of Slytherin was expecting a brash, arrogant Gryffindor. The only ones who saw that image though was their Head of House— who was known to have a vendetta against the deceased James Potter— and Malfoy and those close to him. Malfoy hadn’t been quiet about being snubbed by Potter on the train but most Slytherins knew better than to take the childish boy by his word. He was far too used to using his name to get his way and had no qualms about being insulting to those he believed lesser than him. It wouldn’t surprise anyone if the boy insulted both Potters in one way, shape or form. However accidental it might have been.

Now he was determined to be clear and concise with his insults, going out of his way to harass the Gryffindor and even attempted to do the same to Rose Potter, mind you she didn’t pay the boy any mind, not even glancing in his direction, her nose stuck in a book.

Despite their Sorting into separate— and wildly known as rival— Houses, the Potter twins remained inseparable; Harry Potter was often seen dragging his sister around by the hand alongside the youngest Weasley boy.

“What’s on your mind?”

Marcus Flint glanced away from the Slytherin common room fireplace, where he had been vacantly staring at the flames that danced upon the logs inside. He looked at the familiar face of his best friend, Terrence Higgs, and offered a raised brow.

What do you think?

Marcus was the one who ran things in Slytherin and as such it was up to him to make a statement when it was needed. One would figure Rose Potter’s Sorting would be just that kind of situation, except— he didn’t know what to do. Potter kept to herself, she didn’t cause trouble, so far, and she’d managed to secure them House Points; even with her habit of not speaking.

He frowned to himself, then quietly admitted. “I don’t have any idea what to do here.”

Terrence raised a brow. “Why do you need to do anything?” He asked in a smooth voice.

Marcus scoffed, his stare turning back to the flames. “Be real here, Terrence. It’s a Potter; one of the Potter Twins . I should make a move, lay down the rules straight out…” he trailed off as his mind already started listing reasons why this kind of action wasn’t really needed. He looked over at Terrence, who just waited patiently for him to speak, never one to rush him.

It was a trait that Marcus really appreciated.

“What’s your opinion on this?” He asked him straight out. “First thought that comes to mind with Potter.”

Now Terrence glanced over at the fireplace, the blaze from it making his already tan skin and golden hair glow a warm orange tone. “If no one is fighting, why waste energy preparing a defence?”

Marcus frowned again, his brows furrowing over his eyes. “You think I should leave her be?”

“It’s a little early to be creating tension with Potter, especially when we know next to nothing about her,” Terrence offered quietly. He glanced over his shoulder at the mostly empty common room, spotting Garret Rosier and Gemma Farley talking to one another while the latter passed a paper to the former. Prefect business no doubt.

“What’s there to know?” Marcus asked. “She’s a Potter, one of the Twins-Who-Lived, Dumbledore’s Golden Duo.”

Terrence laughed lightly at that. “People can surprise you,” he said slowly. “We all get so caught up in these assumed rolls that we miss important pieces that are directly in front of us.”

“Important pieces?”

Marcus watched as Terrence finally looked back to him, a passive expression on his usually friendly looking face. “Gather more information first,” he said at last. “A Slytherin never makes the first move unless he knows without a doubt he’ll win.”

The two stared at each other in silence for a long stretch of time, Marcus trying to read his friend's face, trying to get answers that he wasn’t even fully sure the boy would have. Eventually he nodded in agreement.

Out of everyone in Slytherin, Terrence was the one he was closest to, Adrian Pucey just after him. Adrian was vicious when he wanted to be, knew how to make people cower even as a little firstie. The boy was Marcus’s left hand in things, the action man. Terrence though—Terrence was his right hand. His man of logic and reason. Merlin he’d miss the boy in his final year. Despite starting at Hogwarts together, Marcus’s repeat of his fifth year meant that Terrence would graduate a year before him. He has always trusted and valued his opinion on almost everything and already knew he would do so on this as well— for now at least. 

He’d leave Potter be, and as long as he did everyone else would as well. It’s not like it would hurt anyone to do this, the girl was all but a ghost in Slytherin, drifting here and there each day. He’d worry about the other Potter for now, the Gryffindor one. After all, Slytherin played Gryffindor in just a few days, not long after Samhain. Marcus couldn’t wait to get out on the pitch again, couldn’t wait to show those obnoxious lions how the game should be played.

On the evening of Halloween Rose was waiting for Harry by the entrance way to the Great Hall. There was a big customary feast happening tonight and the two of them had rather mixed feelings regarding the whole thing. Halloween was never a holiday that really bothered them, other than the fact that they never got candy like other kids, but this was the first Halloween that they were aware of the truth about their parents. Aware that it was the night that they had both died. Rose could compartmentalize with the best but Harry... not so much. As such she wanted to be nearby if he needed her. She hoped all the decorations and fanfare would be enough to distract Harry from the touchy subject.

When Harry and Ron came walking down the hallway Rose instantly noticed the rather uncomfortable looks on their faces— Ron more so than Harry. Those looks quickly melted into awe when they took in the numerous decorations in the Great Hall.

“Woah,” Ron gasped, his head darting around trying to take everything in.

Rose reached out to stop Ron, her hand landing on his chest and nudging him back away from the doorway as she frowned at him. Ron nervously avoided her stare which only increased her suspicion. Glancing over at Harry, who was now fidgeting in place, Rose pointed over at him and then at Ron in question.

“Nothing's wrong,” Harry tried to say, unconvincingly.

Rose gave Harry an entirely unimpressed look, her arms crossing as she stared him down. Harry met her stare dead on for a few moments before cringing and looking away.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed. “There was a bit of an incident in our Charms class...”

Not the first thing Rose expected to hear, but it was a start.

Harry shot a quick look at Ron. “Hermione was partnered with Ron and he was having some issues with getting the spell to work...”

Rose could already connect the dots on this one. One thing she soon realized while hanging out with the freckled boy was that Ron was rather defensive, not one to take critiques on his capabilities. A fact no doubt attributed to growing up with so many siblings that he felt accomplished so many great things. Now she could imagine the scene Harry was describing perfectly. Ron and Hermione’s rather polar opposite personalities colliding. Ron having trouble with a spell; Hermione offering assistance in a way that sounded just a tad too condescending; and finally, Ron lashing out at her.

Rose looked over at Ron in question.

Ron scuffed one of his shoes against the ground as he avoided her gaze. “I was just saying that she was rather unbearable...” he mumbled quietly. When Rose didn’t let up, he acquiesced. “Alright, I might’ve said something along the lines of... ‘no wonder no one can stand her’...” Wincing he added on quietly. “I also might’ve called her a nightmare...”

Rose sighed as Harry quickly broke down the exact conversation. She could see both sides of this really. On the one hand Hermione was only trying to help, on the other hand snapping at someone while correcting them was hardly helpful. It was rude and, to be perfectly honest, condescending. Though Ron really should not have said what he said in the end regardless of whether or not he knew she was behind him.

Pushing that out of her mind for now, Rose gestured to the Great Hall and caught Harry’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze before she parted off. Harry and Ron were both eager to forget about the awkwardness of the situation with Hermione and they quickly took their seats next to their roommates and dug in. The feast commenced without delay and Harry and Ron both successfully put Hermione’s lack of presence out of their minds.

Harry was just reaching for his second baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Great Hall and up to the head table. He collapsed into a heap against the table in front of Professor Dumbledore and gasped out. “Troll— in the dungeons – thought you ought to know.”

He sank to the floor after delivering his message.

There was only a split second of silence before everyone broke out into a fearful roar. The middle year students began to stand up while the first years were frozen in fear. Professor Dumbledore released a series of bangs from the end of his wand.

“Prefects,” Professor Dumbledore boomed. “Please lead your Houses back to your dormitories immediately!”

All the Houses were quickly gathered by their Prefects as they attempted to keep everyone calm. The Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws were ushered through the main entrance way while the Slytherins were led over to a side door that was used by the teachers. Obviously, they couldn’t take their usual route as that was where the troll was spotted.

For the most part it was a rather successful plan with very little speed bumps. Except for just one actually.

The next morning Rose marched over to Harry during breakfast and proceeded to flick him on the forehead.

Hard.

“Ow!”

Rose glared at Harry, not at all sympathetic to his pain.

Harry frowned at his sister, taking in her furious expression and her clenched fists. He felt immediately guilty as he knew she must’ve heard about the troll incident. “I’m sorry, Ro’,” he said sincerely, staring up at her with wide eyes. He understood her anger and fear, if she had been in the situation Harry was in and he wasn’t there he’d freak. Rose didn’t let up her glare, she scanned him for a brief moment before turning away and heading to the Slytherin table.

“Ro’!”

Harry didn’t receive a response.

“She seems pissed, mate,” Ron mumbled to him as he slathered some jam on a slice of toast.

Harry tried to ignore him, but it was hard, this was something new and not at all pleasant to Harry. Rose had never really been mad at him before... they always had each other’s backs and usually anything unpleasant that came their way they faced together. The rest of breakfast passed by in a blur, Harry only managing to force down two slices of toast: both at Ron’s behest. Harry, Ron, and a newly befriended Hermione eventually got up and made their way to their Potions class. Each step felt rather foreboding to Harry as he was unsure if his sister would even partner up with him today.

She can’t be that mad... right?

The Potions classroom looked more depressing than ever before with its dim lighting and dirty looking walls only furthering Harry’s already sour mood. Rose was already seated at the table she and Harry normally sat at, the seat next to her still empty.

With cautious steps Harry moved over to Rose, barely hearing Ron’s muttered, “good luck,” as he went. Placing his bag on the table in silence Harry eyed his sister for any sign of protest.

There wasn’t.

Rose just continued to write in a notebook; what she was writing was anybody’s guess. Rose always had books that she would write in when they were growing up. It started when they were seven and Dudley threw away one of his notebooks during a temper tantrum. Rose had nicked it from the trash and started writing in it. The majority of the time she wrote about things she found interesting, things she learnt about and things she wanted to explore more on when it came to each topic. Now that they were in the magical world where they were learning so many new things it didn’t surprise Harry that Rose was hardly seen without a notebook in her hand.

She had made sure to stock up before coming here.

Harry sat awkwardly in his chair, his hands fidgeting as he glanced over at Rose repeatedly. Finally it seemed as though Rose had enough of Harry’s nervousness. Shutting her book, she shoved it back inside her bag and cleared any unnecessary clutter off their tabletop. Looking over at Harry she scanned his face for a few moments before looking away.

Just when Harry started to feel that anxious feeling crawl its way through his chest again, she held up her pinky, not turning away from the front.

Harry let out a sigh of relief and quickly linked his pinky finger with hers, afraid if he waited too long she would take it back. When their pinkies were linked Rose looked at him again and rolled her eyes. It was a familiar look for Harry, one he knew how to translate without a second thought.

Idiot.

A smile creeping onto his face, Harry turned to the front of the room when Rose let go of his hand.

The only positive out of Harry’s stupendously stupid troll adventure was Hermione Granger.

Although she could be a bit much at first once you got past the overly bossy tone of voice she tended to use she was rather nice company. Rose had been a bit dubious at first. For starters Rose was not much for talking and with what little interactions she had and heard about the girl, Granger never stopped talking. It seemed a bit like throwing water and fire into an enclosed space and expecting them to get along.

The more time spent with her the more Rose realized that Hermione’s... over-eagerness was simply the girl’s way of trying to make friends. As it were she did not have any before working things out with Harry and Ron. Not even in the Muggle world. She put all of herself out there and tried desperately to impress not realizing that in doing so she was coming off as a know-it-all.

She was brilliant though. Rose had to give her that. She seemed to consume books as often and as quickly as Rose did and was more than happy to talk about them too. Rose was rather pleased with this and the only occasional bump in their conversations stemmed from the fact that Hermione tended to recite what she learned from books word for word.

While this may seem like an altogether good thing Rose was more interested in pushing boundaries, seeing what she could accomplish. Hermione seemed keen on learning exactly what the books taught and not looking any further than that. To her books were like a gospel, obviously what’s in them must be true; to Rose books were a resource, guidelines to help lead one in a certain direction until they were no longer of use. Rose thought that the books detailing she and Harry’s ‘heroic actions’ were proof of this. They stated that the two of them had special powers, that they defeated the Dark Lord on their own. As such Hermione believed this too. Whereas Rose knew it wasn’t them who did anything— it couldn’t have been— it had to have been their parents.

Not all books were factual, some just wanted interesting storylines in order to sell faster. Others, while true at one point, were disproven at another point in time, rendering their information incorrect. If no one took the initiative to question a book's credibility then they’d be forever doomed to consume information that was just not correct. 

But these conflicting viewpoints aside, Rose was happy to have Hermione around. The two now often swapped books from time to time in order to see what the other had learnt so far.

Another point in Hermione’s favour was that she made no outward reaction to Rose’s lack of speech, instead taking it in stride. Although she was not picking up Rose’s ‘language’ as quickly as Ron had, or at all which seemed to frustrate her a bit, she still managed interactions rather well. Harry and Rose discussed it at one point and they both agreed that it was likely that Hermione was too technical about things whereas Ron had rather straightforward instincts about certain things.

Harry had quite the first Quidditch game not too long ago. He won, which was great, but he also had yet another near-death experience. (Honestly, at this rate Rose was going to have to start keeping him in a bubble.) While Harry had been beyond nervous in the hours leading up to the match, he performed splendidly. He had been holding his own right up until someone started jinxing his broom. Hermione’s eagle eyes had been quick to spot Snape staring directly at Harry while muttering to himself and in an act that lived up to her Gryffindor Sorting, she quickly and efficiently set Snape’s robes on fire. Harry righted his broom and he hurtled towards the ground instantly and for a moment looked as though he would throw up, only for the Snitch to fall straight out of his mouth.

It was a confusing but happy win for Gryffindor.

Immediately after, Harry, Rose, Ron, and Hermione had gathered in Hagrid’s hut where the giant man made them all a strong cup of tea. The three Gryffindors were quick to point out Snape’s actions, stating outright that he wanted to kill Harry. When Hagrid brushed this off with a statement of no motive, Harry and Ron told him that they thought he was after whatever was hidden in the third corridor. They learned three things after saying this. One: Snape was helping protect whatever was hidden there, two: a man named Nicolas Flamel was involved and three: apparently the ginormous, monstrous three-headed dog was named Fluffy.

It was now mid-December and the grounds were layered with a thick blanket of snow. The Great Hall was decorated with numerous trees standing tall, hanging on the walls were holly and mistletoe, and the ceiling was adorned with twinkling icicles and hundreds of candles.

Harry and Rose planned to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays— obviously— and they were both extremely happy about this. Not even Malfoy’s snide comments about them not being wanted at home was enough to ruin Harry’s mood. The blond boy was still incredibly bitter over Harry’s quidditch win and when his mocking commentary about how Harry caught the snitch fell flat, he went back to mocking their lack of parents.

Ron and his brothers would be staying over the holidays as well as their parents would be going to Romania to visit Ron’s older brother Charlie.

The four of them were currently sitting in the library scouring books for any sign of a man named Nicolas Flamel. Rose was seated at one end of a table in the corner of the library with Harry and Ron on her right and one chair pulled out on her left. Hermione was gathering more books to look through and the other three were looking through the books that they had found so far. Harry sighed as he shut what felt like the fiftieth book he read through. Ron was still skimming through his book and when Harry looked over at Rose he saw her writing in a notebook while occasionally flipping through the pages of the book in front of her.

Harry frowned as he saw the title of the book.

“Ro’… do you really think this Flamel person will be in a book called ‘The Advanced Theory of Transfiguration’?”

Not looking up from her task, Rose shook her head.

Ron glanced over at the two of them as Hermione approached, dropping her books onto the table in the empty space across from Ron. Harry spared them a look before turning back to his sister.

“Why are you reading it then?” Harry asked incredulously.

Finally Rose looked up at Harry, raising one brow in question, then went back to her notebook

Harry shook his head. “No— I mean— I thought we were looking for information on,” Harry glanced around them quickly and lowered his voice, “Nicolas Flamel.”

Rose finished off writing something in her notebook before turning to give her brother her full attention. She analyzed his expression for a few moments, briefly scanning at their surroundings much like Harry had just done. Looking back at Harry tiredly, she sighed. “Nicolas Flamel is a famous alchemist who once worked with Dumbledore. He’s most famous for creating the Philosopher's Stone, a Stone that is said to grant eternal life and has the ability to turn any metal into pure gold.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at Rose with disbelief clear on their faces. The latter two because this was the most they’ve ever heard Rose say. Before now they only heard her say about three words all together. Harry was in disbelief because—

“Why would you know this?”

Rose pursed her lips. “It was on the Chocolate Frog card that Ron gave you on the ride here.”

Okay— Now Harry wasn’t so shocked at her figuring it out. He knew Rose had meticulously analyzed that card for every detail it offered her. It made sense that she’d have it all memorized by now.

“Why didn’t you say this before?” Ron blurted out suddenly, having overcome his own shock at Rose speaking.

Rose looked over at Ron and gave a one shoulder shrug and, in a clear dismissal of talking anymore, turned back to her notebook. Harry didn’t even bother trying to get more answers out of his sister, he knew she was likely done talking for the next week at the very least. Odds are Rose never said anything because she just didn’t find this all as interesting as they did. Which, come on, it was, right? Turning back to Ron and Hermione, Harry caught sight of a look of realization on Hermione’s face.

“I can’t believe I didn’t remember!” She said suddenly. “I got a book for some light reading and it spoke of the Philosophers Stone.”

Ron shoved the book in front of him away, relieved to finally be done with all this research. “To be fair, you read so many books it’s a miracle you remember any of it.”

Harry couldn’t help but grin at that and, glancing at his sister, he could see Rose fighting off a smile as well.

Hermione frowned at Ron before ignoring his comment. “Having a Stone that could make you not only rich but immortal too would be quite the temptation…”

Ron shook his head. “No wonder Snape wants it.”

To say the boys were relieved to discover the mystery of Nicolas Flamel before the break would be an understatement. Hermione had already been making it clear that she wanted them to keep looking through the library over the holidays while she was gone and neither had been looking forward to it.

To be fair, they probably wouldn’t have looked at all anyways.

The castle was now mostly empty with only a handful of students staying behind. The Gryffindor common room was emptier than usual, although Harry and Ron didn’t spend much of their time there as Rose wouldn’t be able to go in. As such the kids had taken to exploring the castle and looking for small enclosures that they could spend time in together.

Ron had started teaching the twins about wizarding chess. It was very similar to regular chess, the only difference being that the pieces were able to move on their own. When one piece was taken out by another it was beaten down rather dramatically before being dragged off the board. Harry wasn’t very good at it, the pieces questioning his every move as the game went on, and Rose was more interested in figuring out how the game worked than actually playing it.

On the eve before Christmas Rose snuck Harry into the Slytherin dorms. The staircase leading up to the dorms was bewitched not to let boys climb up them, but Rose figured that if she simply casted the levitating spell on Harry and moved him up the stairs that way it wouldn’t be an issue.

Thankfully she was right about this.

For the first time since leaving Privet Drive the two would be able to spend a night together—more importantly they’d be able to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day together. Rose led Harry past the bedroom doors of the other first-year Slytherin girls, absently glad that no one in her year had stayed behind for the break. Pushing her door open she headed inside while Harry trailed behind her. Her brother stopped in the doorway as his eyes widened drastically.

“This is your room?”

Rose glanced at Harry with a small smile. Reaching out she tugged him further into the room so she could shut the door, casting the same locking spell on it that she had her first night at Hogwarts plus a few others she has since learnt.

“… I share a dorm with four other boys.”

Rose couldn’t help but laugh at that.

Harry was standing in the center of the room, looking over everything in Rose’s private bedroom. Don’t get him wrong, he loved rooming with Ron and the others, he’s pretty sure he’d get pretty lonely without them, but still… a private bedroom.

His sister’s room was exactly what Harry imagined her brain must be like. Papers pinned up on every wall with information that Harry didn’t understand, stacks and stacks of books that Harry didn’t even want to imagine reading. (Though Rose would probably explain them to him in layman's terms later on and he’d probably find them interesting.) The papers on the walls appeared to be colour coded too, what ordering system Rose was using was anyone’s guess. Pushing his curiosity to the side for now Harry looked over at Rose, she was sitting on her bed, moving books off it and onto the nightstand beside it.

“Are you ever lonely?” Rose glanced at Harry, taking in the honest concern on his face. She smiled softly as she shook her head in reply. Moving over to sit on the other side of the bed, Harry watched his sister carefully for any hint of dishonesty. “You sure?”

Rose laughed now. “I’m sure, Harry.”

Harry nodded once and with that worry appeased he immediately went to help Rose move the rest of her books; before he could move to grab the last one Rose caught his wrist and Harry squinted over at her in question.

“Watch this.” Rose whispered excitedly.

Moving both her hands above the book, palms down, Rose slowly pulled them apart and lifted them higher into the air. Harry sucked in a breath as the book followed. It slowly lifted into the air and, after Rose pushed her hands outward, floated over to a stack of books that were sitting on the trunk at the end of the bed, landing on the top with a thunk.

“Ro’!”

Harry grabbed Rose’s arm excitedly, laughing in disbelief.

She was quick to join in on his laughter. “I’ve been waiting to show you that for a while,” Rose told him quietly. “I’ve been practicing since just after Halloween. It’s easier with paper,” Rose gestured absently at the paper adorning her walls. “Those I can do by just moving my fingers. I think if I practice more I can eventually do the same with books and other things.”

Harry frowned slightly. “So, it’s like building up your muscles?” His mind flashed back to the health classes they had back at school when they still lived on Privet Drive.

“Yes!”

Harry smiled at her clear enthusiasm. “Can you teach me after you get better control over it?”

Rose nodded, shooting Harry a look that screamed duh.

Technically speaking, Rose had started this back at Privet Drive. Although what she, and Harry, did there was unlock their cupboard door at night. They used to press their hands against it softly and, in their heads, quietly wish for the door to open. While reading one of the books she got from the library Rose learnt that what they had been doing was wandless magic and it was a rather rare skill for people to have beyond childhood. So, of course, Rose had to further expand what she was capable of.

The two spent the next few hours talking about Hogwarts and everything they’ve learnt so far. Harry spoke about Quidditch and the Philosopher’s Stone mystery in great depth and Rose told Harry about all the things she’s read about and how her practice at wandless magic progressed.

As Christmas morning came the twins woke up fairly early and neither one expected presents of any kind; the two were in for a surprise though. As they pushed themselves up into a sitting position they froze as they spotted the a pile of presents at the end of their bed. Harry was the first to move, quickly crawling to the other end of the bed, kicking his one leg about when it tried to get tangled in the blanket.

“Ro’, gifts!”

Rose moved more cautiously to Harry’s side, eyeing the gifts with a slightly wary expression. There was a gift wrapped in thick brown paper with a card and top that read; To Harry and Rose, From Hagrid. Inside were two distinctly hand carved wooden flutes. There was another from their relatives that Rose didn’t bother looking at, knowing it was no doubt something cheap and likely insulting. Inside two separately wrapped but identical gifts were knitted sweaters and a container of home-made fudge. Each one had a tag that said; From the Weasleys. They were both emerald green in colour and looked warm and cozy.

Harry couldn’t help but think back to what Madam Malkin had said when they asked her to get together more outfits for them. Green to go with their eyes.

There was a big box of Chocolate Frogs addressed to both Harry and Rose from Hermione. Harry opened the last gift, the small card that came with it falling to the bed where Rose quickly grabbed it. As Harry unfolded what appeared to be a very silvery cloak, standing up so he could see all of it properly, Rose read out what the card said.

“Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to the two of you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you both.”

Rose glanced up at Harry when she was finished speaking and froze.

“I’m invisible, Ro’!”

Harry had wrapped the cloak around his shoulders and his body had disappeared. All Rose could see was his head floating up in the air. She quickly pushed herself across the bed, standing up by Harry and scanning him intently from all sides. Rose grabbed the cloak from Harry as the boy went to grab the card that she had left lying on the bed. She started pulling the cloak between her hands as she analyzed every edge of the magnificent cloak, wondering how it worked.

“This was our dads...”

Rose looked over at Harry who was staring at the card, weighing its verity with a serious expression. Glancing down at the object clutched in her hands Rose was unsure about how she felt about the idea. On the one hand it felt... exhilarating to be holding something that belonged to one of their parents. Something that their father had held in his own hands, something he must’ve used often enough. On the other hand, it left her feeling rather melancholic and more aware of their absence than ever before. At least at Privet Drive there were no real reminders, no actual good pieces of evidence that they had once existed. (Their aunt did not count for obvious reasons) Their parents more often than not— to Rose at least— felt like the fictional characters in the stories they made up as children.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Rose passed the cloak to Harry. “Should we go see what Ron got?” She asked quietly.

Harry pulled himself from his own turmoil of thoughts, looking at his sister and pulling a smile onto his face. “Yeah, we can wish him a Merry Christmas too.”

The rest of the day was spent in company of the Weasleys, more so Ron than the others but they popped in and out. Ron seemed embarrassed when he realized that his mother had sent the twins sweaters, telling them that she did that every year for all of their family members.

Their meal that day was one to remember too. Harry and Rose had never had a Christmas feast before; oh they helped make one for their relatives but they were never allowed to eat any of it. The holidays and any other special occasion were when the two of them were locked up more than ever, the Dursley’s trying their hardest to pretend they didn’t exist. So when they sat down for the Christmas feast they were in slight disbelief. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce– and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.

Rose had sat with Harry, Ron, and the other three Weasleys during the feast, not wanting to leave Harry’s side at all that day. She and her brother had laughed as they tried out the wizard crackers, the exceedingly loud bang it let off shocking them both. After dessert was served and they ate more than their share, the twins headed out with Ron, Fred, and George to have a roaring snowball fight.

Harry said Rose was cheating when she used wandless magic to send snowballs at him and Ron from across the grounds but Rose had just laughed at that. Then Fred and George had charmed snowballs to pelt Professor Quirrell in the back of the head repeatedly; Rose had Harry tell the twins to teach her the spell immediately, much to the older twins' amusement.

All in all, it was the best holiday the two ever remembered having. As they headed back to their dorms that night, Harry caught Rose’s arm before they went their separate ways.

“Go outside of your common room at eleven,” he whispered quietly to her.

Narrowing her eyes, Rose stared at Harry for a moment before nodding slowly in agreement.

So that night at precisely eleven o’clock Rose silently made her way out of the Slytherin common room, gladder than ever that most of the Slytherins who stayed behind were ones who kept to themselves. Rose had only been in the hall for a few seconds when—

“Ro’!”

It was only her uncanny ability to recognize Harry’s voice anywhere that kept her from hexing her brother instantly. She looked around and suddenly Harry’s head popped into view, the rest of his body doing so immediately after. She frowned at Harry in question, to which he gestured for her to get under the cloak with him. As the two wrapped themselves in the cloak, obscuring themselves from the view of anyone else, Harry whispered excitedly to Rose. “We can go exploring!”

Rose smiled at her brother's enthusiasm, raising one brow at him in question.

“Yeah, I'm not sure, really...” Harry whispered. He frowned in thought for a few moments before looking over at Rose in question. “Wanna go to the Restricted Section of the library?”

Rose’s eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly. She hadn’t been given the opportunity to go check out the Restricted Section, mainly because you needed written permission from a teacher and she couldn’t exactly ask for that.

The two made their way through the halls silently, finding it oddly thrilling to be the only two up and roaming Hogwarts. The portraits hanging on the walls were doing their own things, most dozing quietly in their frames, some visiting other portraits’ frames.

As they crept into the library, they tiptoed past Madam Pince’s desk and headed to the part of the library where the Restricted Section was located. The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp so they could see their way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps. The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library and Harry and Rose shared a look of anticipation before stepping over the rope that separated those books from the rest of the library. They had to work very hard to resist the urge to laugh with childish glee.

Holding the lamp up a bit higher, Harry scanned the book titles but they didn’t tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn’t understand, some had no title at all and one book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn’t be.

Rose nudged him with her elbow, pointing over at a book at random. Nodding in understanding, Harry set the lamp down carefully before reaching for one of the books. It was a large black and silver one and it was heavy in his hand as he pulled it down and let it drop open.

A piercing, blood curdling shriek split the silence— the book was screaming! Harry and Rose snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. They stumbled backward and knocked over the lamp Harry had lit, which went out at once. Rose glanced over her shoulder as she heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside— Harry stuffed the shrieking book back on the shelf, grabbed his sister’s hand and ran for it. They passed Filch in the doorway; the man’s pale, wild eyes looked straight through them, and they slipped under Filch’s outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book’s shrieks still ringing in Harry’s ears.

They came to a sudden stop in front of a tall suit of armour that looked more ominous than anything in the late-night lighting. They hadn’t been paying attention as they ran and now, as they looked around them, they couldn’t tell where they were. The castle looked so different at night.

“You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody’s been in the library’s Restricted Section.”

Harry and Rose slowly turned to look at each other, both pale and bloodless. Wherever they were, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to their horror, it was Snape who replied. “The Restricted Section? Well, they can’t be far, we’ll catch them.”

Rose tightened her grasp on Harry’s hand and slowly tugged them backwards, both of them doing their best not to make any noise. Harry squeezed Rose’s hand and jerked his head in the direction of a door on their left that was ajar. The two managed to squeeze in through the doorway without moving it or catching the attention of the two men in the hall. Leaning back against the wall they let out simultaneous sighs of relief. Neither made any movements, not even glancing at the room they had snuck into.

When they did look, they saw what looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket— but propped against the wall facing them was something that didn’t look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, pulling Rose behind him by the hand. He wanted to look at them and see no reflection again. 

He stepped in front of it.

Rose jumped slightly as Harry suddenly slapped a hand over his mouth and spun around. She looked at him sharply, taking in his wide-eyes and pale face. Rose tugged on Harry’s hand, frowning when he only turned back to the mirror silently, reaching out behind him with his free hand, pawing at the open air.

“Ro’,” Harry whispered suddenly, his eyes locked on the mirror in front of them. “It’s mum and dad...”

Rose glanced at the mirror in front of them, looking over their two figures, before she looked back at Harry. She tugged on his hand once more and when he looked at her, she shook her head. Harry frowned. He looked back up at the image in front of him, their mother and father smiling as they looked down at the two of them, the former with tears in her eyes. Maybe she just wasn’t standing in the right spot?

Harry pulled Rose into the position he was just standing in. “Face it from the centre, you’ll see it.”

Rose had to adjust her footing at Harry’s sudden movement, shooting her brother a look that said careful. Harry ignored it for now, instead urging her to look back at the mirror with wide eyes. Rose did so begrudgingly, turning back to the mirror that had Harry all a twist. She only frowned again when she eyed the thing, her gaze flickering to her brother once more. “All I see is you and me...” she told him quietly. As soon as she said it, she got an actual look at the mirror.

She was telling the truth; it was her and Harry but they looked a bit different. Harry was the slightest bit taller, their cheeks slightly more rounded and bright smiles on both of their faces. They were wearing clothes that looked rather nice— nothing expensive like most Pureblood kids were wearing— but they weren’t obvious hand-me-downs either. Harry had his broom stick in one hand while Rose was holding a book in her other arm.

“You’re holding your broom,” she said suddenly.

“What?” Harry asked in surprise.

Rose didn’t answer him, glancing down instead at her empty hand that was hanging by her side and comparing it to the one in the mirror that had a book curled up in it against her side. Tearing her gaze away from the image, she stepped back into the spot she had been standing in before, looking back to her brother.

He stepped into the empty spot as soon as Rose moved, locking his gaze on the mirror again.

“We really do have mum's eyes,” Harry whispered, scanning both of their parents intently. “I look a lot like dad... We have his hair colour.”

Rose stared at Harry’s face, her mind already whirring over what this mirror was and what it was doing to them. Her head shot in the direction of the door when she heard the low voices of Snape and Filch speaking again and she tugged on Harry’s hand, tugging harder when he showed no reaction. Harry glanced at Rose before his gaze flickered to the hall, no doubt hearing what she just heard. He looked back at the mirror one last time before they made their exit.

The two were silent as they made their way back to the Slytherin common room, neither of them knowing quite what to say. As they stood in front of the entrance way Rose squeezed Harry’s hand and he looked over at her. She lifted one brow in question and Harry couldn’t help but smile, nodding softly in reply. With one last narrowed eyed stare, Rose nodded and stepped out from under the Invisibility Cloak, heading back into her dorms.

Harry stared at the entrance for a few minutes after it had shut, then shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts as he started to make his way back to Gryffindor Tower.

It had been two nights since Harry and Rose had stumbled upon the mirror. Last night Harry had brought Ron down here to try and show him his family but his friend couldn’t see them either. Harry hurried through the corridors late on the third night, being far too loud but beyond caring. The trek to the room with the mirror was now a familiar one and Harry barely had to think about it as he moved.

And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfather’s nodding happily. Rose, even though she wasn’t actually there with him, was in the mirror as well, smiling and holding the reflection-Harry’s hand. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. He wondered why Rose couldn’t see the rest of them either, why only he could. He planned to stay here all night; he wouldn’t move an inch. Not one.

Except—

“So— back again, Harry?”

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice and he looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn’t noticed him.

“I— I didn’t see you, sir.”

“Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you,” Dumbledore commented and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

“So,” Dumbledore said, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, “you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”

“I didn’t know it was called that, sir.”

“But I expect you’ve realized by now what it does?”

“It— well— it shows me my family—”

“And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy and your sister standing alongside you.”

“How did you know—?”

“I don’t need a cloak to become invisible,” Dumbledore informed him gently.

“Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?”

Harry shook his head.

“Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?”

Harry thought the words over then slowly said. “It shows us what we want… whatever we want…”

“Yes and no,” Dumbledore said quietly. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, besides your sister of course, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.”

Harry frowned. “But what about Ro’? She just saw us...”

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a moment before smiling softly. “Your sister saw just the two of you in the mirror because that is her deepest, most desperate desire. Standing alongside you is the thing that makes her happiest, so the mirror did not need to make many alterations.

“It will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don’t you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?”

Harry stood up, his mind spinning over what Dumbledore said about Rose.

It was only when he was back in bed that it truly struck Harry what Rose’s image meant. She had said that he was holding his broom and later told him that they had both been dressed in clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs and that she had been holding a book in her hand.

Rose’s deepest desire was for the two of them to be happy together.

Harry felt a surge of warmth through his chest. Never had he been so grateful for having his sister; he couldn’t even imagine life without her. He could live with not seeing the image of his parents and relatives again, he decided. He had Rose. That was more than enough.

Chapter Text

Things had taken a turn for Harry and the others. Not long after the holidays they discovered that Hagrid was keeping a baby dragon in his house. He had won it from a mysterious hooded stranger in a lucky hand of cards apparently, which seemed like a good deal really. Their attempts at reasoning with Hagrid by telling him a dragon could breathe literal fire and his hut was made of straw fell on deaf ears. This unfortunate set of circumstances led to Harry and the others coming up with an extraction plan for the dragon— or Norbert, as that’s what Hagrid named him.

Ron had written a letter to his brother Charlie, who worked on a dragon reserve in Romania, asking him to come for Hagrid's newly acquired pet. Charlie had quickly replied and agreed to come get Norbert.

In a series of remarkably horrendous situations, Malfoy followed them to Hagrid's and saw the dragon, Ron got bit by Norbert and had to go to the infirmary and Malfoy got a hold of Ron’s letter from Charlie detailing the time and place of the extraction. Neville, after overhearing Malfoy’s plan to get them in trouble, had ventured out to warn them.

In the end Ron was the only one to avoid any trouble, due to him being in the infirmary overnight.

The next morning when the Gryffindors passed the giant hourglasses that recorded the House points they thought there must have been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first-year Gryffindors.

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him— though why exactly Harry wasn’t sure, it’s not like either of them were close to the lead in points, at least now it was all a bit closer. With Gryffindor at the bottom and Slytherin narrowly hanging onto the top spot now; probably why the other Houses were mad, not wanting the latter to win.

Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn’t trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him. At least the Slytherins didn’t bother him, mind you that was probably because they took a big plunge in points too due to Rose and Malfoy. It was a miserable time and Harry couldn’t remember feeling so down since arriving in the magical world. At that exact moment Harry and Rose were sitting in a hidden alcove together, the former directly on the ground while the latter was perched above him on a small ledge. She was running her hand through his hair comfortingly as he stewed in his self-pity.

“Are the Slytherins giving you a hard time?” Harry asked her quietly.

Rose shook her head.

Harry wasn’t sure if he believed her. He hadn’t noticed any Slytherins glaring at her, so at least there was that.

If he was being completely honest, Harry was disappointed. Whether it was with himself or his housemates, he couldn’t really say for sure, but he was. Once again he felt like he did on Privet Drive. All the other kids being mean and putting him down and there was nothing he could really do.

“They’re fickle people, Harry. Ones who never really accepted us. They just liked the fame surrounding our names.”

Harry looked up at Rose when she spoke in a quiet voice. He wanted to argue that point, but a bigger part of him felt that she was right. The only people that were still on good terms with him were the ones he had already gotten to know. The people he was friends with. Everyone else had laughed with him and cheered him on and acted friendly but the second he did something that they didn’t like, they turned on him, turning as cruel as Harry’s cousin and his friends were.

It was a bit of a letdown if he was being completely honest.

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts when there was a gentle yank on his hair. He looked up again, blowing hair out of his eye with a half-hearted puff, and met Rose’s gaze. She stared at him for a moment before smiling softly and holding up her pinky.

Harry laughed lightly, reaching up with one hand to link his with hers.

The two didn’t stay there much longer, Harry not wanting to leave Hermione on her own to deal with the glares from Gryffindors. They were both silent as they made their way through the halls together before splitting off at what was now a familiar path. Rose strolled through the halls leading down to the dungeons, thinking over the recent events. She knew her brother was sorely disappointed, she on the other hand wasn’t surprised. Rose knew that the only person she could fully depend on was Harry.

The Slytherins were upset though. Oh, they weren’t as obvious about it as Gryffindors were, but she could tell. Years of living with the Dursleys had given her a sixth sense for when someone was displeased. They would wait it out though, let their anger simmer before making a more... political stand.

The best Slytherins were proper about everything, even in fury.

Rose wasn’t worried though. She knew she had a lot of ways she could play things in the future but for now she was content to float along. As long as they left her alone, she’d leave them alone. She never had any doubts about her Sorting, had so far always been happy she’d been Sorted into the House of snakes. Her dorm room was one obvious bonus— especially after hearing Hermione talk about the Gryffindor girls' dorms. Not that she was a particularly picky person, it was just nice to have rather lavish things after a lifetime of living off of scraps and hand-me-downs.

Rose thought over the days she had spent exploring her new room not long after they had arrived. She had wanted to look over every nook and cranny with a careful eye, finding almost everything about the room fascinating. She really liked the intricate looking snakes that were painstakingly carved into the bed posts, vanity, and desk.

Remembering very clearly her first close up look at the ones on the desk, Rose smiled. She had been doing homework— Harry at a Quidditch practice that evening— when she first noticed them. One had been wrapped up around the neck of the oil lamp, another was curling around the opposite corner of the desk and the last two were coiled in a conjoined circle around an empty spot that she had discovered was the perfect size for her ink bottle to sit in.

Rose was always rather fond of snakes. Over the years she saw three in the garden— Harry always managed to miss them— and one at the zoo on Dudley's birthday. They were always fairly pleasant, simply looking for a warm place to sit and some mice to eat. It was a mere coincidence of course that Rose hated mice and it just so happened that when the snakes were around the little creatures steered clear.

She couldn’t say for sure what possessed her to try speaking to an obviously inanimate object, but she had, leaning in close to the two coiled together and whispering a soft, “hello.”

What followed was a big surprise— you’d think she would have been used to them at that point. The snakes had answered, as did the one in the corner of the desk and the one on the lamp. They had seemed eager to talk to her, beyond thrilled really.

Rose had spent that evening learning about Parseltongue, its rareness in the magical community and its connection to the House she had been Sorted into. They told her quite a bit of other things too and informed her that all of them spoke, every snake carved design that adorned the décor throughout Hogwarts. They were all connected, what one heard, they all heard and they had a very long memory, eagerly telling her secrets of people that have long since passed and secrets of people that were still here.

Coming back from her thoughts, Rose smirked slightly as she saw the entrance that led to the Slytherin common room. She wasn’t stupid enough to think she could take on the older Slytherins, not when the vast majority of them grew up learning magic, but she had long since learnt that even the most powerful of opponents could be rendered useless with the right secrets. The right leverage.

The Slytherins would fume for a while before making their stand against her, but she wasn’t worried. Not in the least.

Exams were steadfast approaching for the students at Hogwarts. The professors were now starting their review work and giving more homework than ever before. The school year had been an interesting one. Harry Potter seemed to be involved in the constant drama that befell them all as of late. From becoming the first first-year student in over a century to be on a Quidditch team; and, as everyone got to see, it had nothing to do with his fame but rather his immense skill as a Seeker. To apparently saving a first-year Muggleborn from a troll that had broken into the castle back on Samhain. The most recent bit of drama though was Gryffindor losing an enormous number of points in one night. All thanks to Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom.

The last bit of news caused Harry’s popularity with the Gryffindors to plummet in record speed. Hermione and Neville were also being shunned alongside Harry as their housemates blamed all three of them for Gryffindors standing of last place for the House Cup.

Gryffindor wasn’t the only one to take a hit that night though. Thanks to the actions of Rose Potter and Draco Malfoy, Slytherin also took a plunge in their place for the House Cup. Rose Potter had been fairly skilled at gaining Slytherin points, even without her talking, often finishing tasks first which resulted in her being awarded House points. That coupled with her silent nature had the Slytherin House leaving her to her own devices this year.

That was about to change though. 

After Slytherins staggering loss of points more than a few people were upset. They stewed for a few weeks, no one making any outright moves against the offending parties, but that wasn’t going to be happening any longer. There was not much they could do about Malfoy losing them points, knowing the boy would go whine to his father about anything they did and then his father would cause trouble for their families. It was not worth the trouble, especially not for the sake of House points, but Potter on the other hand, they could do something about that. Gone were the days of leaving her be, the Head of the Slytherin’s Hierarchy was ready to make a stand.

Marcus Flint was at the top of the Slytherin Hierarchy, an impressive feat considering he was a fifth-year— less impressive when you realize that this was his second fifth year. Nevertheless, he was powerful in his own right, and while he wasn’t top of his class, he still knew a lot of nasty spells and he was one of the best players on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Now he stood in the Slytherin common room, his arms crossed as he leaned against the back of one of the couches. The common room had a fair amount of people seated around it, the vast majority well aware of what was going to happen and wanting to be present for the show. 

There was a group of sixth and seventh-years seated around one of the coffee tables, review books open in front of them as they studied, glancing towards Flint every once in a while. Draco Malfoy stood by the fireplace with most of his year mates around him; Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Pansy Parkinson, to name a few. His pale grey eyes were trained on the entrance way, glittering with vicious glee at what was about to happen. There were students from every year scattered about the common room alongside these two groups and Terrence Higgs and Adrian Pucey stood near Flint wands in hand as they waited.

It could almost be considered amusing how quickly heads shot in the direction of the entrance way when it was heard opening. It was only the years of being Slytherins and growing up amongst Purebloods that saved the dignity of at least half of those waiting in the room.

Rose Potter waltzed into the room easily enough, the same neutral expression she always had plastered across her face. If she was startled by the uncharacteristic amount of people in the common room no one could tell. There were a great deal of students amused by her ignorance about what was going on. Before saying anything, Flint disarmed Potter, stepping towards her as he caught her wand. Potter remained frustratingly unaffected; her posture relaxed as she faced the older Slytherin.

Flint glared at the first year in front of him, letting his wand fall to his side as he spoke. “Listen up, Potter. It’s about time you were told how things work. There is a hierarchy here, and me”— Flint pointed at himself with Potter’s wand— “I’m at the top. I make the rules. You may think just cause you and your brother have Dumbledore kissing the ground you walk on that we all will too. That’s not happening!” He stepped closer to her as he spat out his words, glaring at her fiercely.

Despite the position she was in, and it was a bad one, wandless with someone pissed off at you, Potter just watched Flint as her expression gave nothing away.

This only seemed to enrage Flint and he closed the distance between the two of them. Getting in Potter's face he snarled. “It’s time you learned your place in Slytherin!”

Finally Potter reacted, tilting her head to the side as she considered the Slytherin in front of her, then she did something that none of them expected. She leaned forward and spoke quietly into Flint’s ear— or at least that’s what those watching assumed she was doing. No one was close enough to hear for sure.

As they all watched in tense suspense they could see the moment Flint seemed to stiffen slightly. When Potter pulled back Flint had an odd expression on his face, at least as far as those in the right vantage point could see. Potter tilted her head again and then, strangely enough, she smiled. It was a sweet, almost innocent looking thing, and then she held out her hand.

Slowly, Flint lifted his hand stiltedly and dropped Potter’s wand into her palm.

Closing her fist around it, she gave a slight nod and proceeded to step around the older boy, her previous smile dropping just as quick as it came in favour of her normal neutral expression. No one said or did anything as she made her way towards the dorms; too shocked and stunned to make a remark.

Pucey pulled himself out of it first, his hand coming out to hit Flint’s arm.

“What was that?”

Flint shook his head, as though getting rid of any stray thoughts, before he turned to face Pucey with a frown. He licked his lips and cleared his throat.

“Nothing. Just a change of plans. No one bothers Potter,” he glanced around the room absently, his eyes lingering on the first-years who wore expressions of shock and disappointment. “Anyone who does will answer to me.”

With those words he turned and left the common room leaving behind a group of confused snakes.

What just happened?

Marcus Flint stalked into the school library with a confidence he didn’t completely feel. He was a Slytherin though and if there was one thing Slytherins did it was remain steady in moments of uncertainty.

Going into his second-fifth year Marcus had felt sure of himself, not letting the fact that he was repeating a year hold him back— or letting anyone else hold him back either. While he was repeating his fifth year the vast majority of Slytherin knew it was not because he didn’t have the skills or power for it, far from it actually, which is why he didn’t have any contenders for his place in Slytherin. It had been all but certain that when he reached his sixth year that he’d take the top spot. One learned to see the signs of it from a young age, you had to if you wanted to climb the social ladder.

This year had some twists though. The most obvious being Rose Potters Sorting into the House of snakes— that had been a surprise. Everyone tiptoed for the most part in the weeks following the shocking Sorting, all of them unsure of what the girl would be like. Would she be expecting them to bend over backwards for her? To look at her with awe and gratitude?

She was definitely in the wrong House for that.

None of these things happened. To put it plain and simple; Rose Potter was a recluse. She didn’t associate with anyone bar her brother and those he was closest to. Marcus knew Malfoy had been quick to try and treat her the way he treated her brother but when he got absolutely no reaction he decided to focus his attention solely on the Gryffindor-Potter.

Merlin, he was annoying about it too.

Marcus had been ready to do the same for the most part. As long as Potter wanted to be out of everyone's way he’d let her be— he couldn’t exactly be seen terrorizing one the Twins-Who-Lived after all. But when it came down to it he had to make a stand, the girl had gotten too comfortable with doing what she liked with no sign of consequences.

Okay— maybe Marcus had twice the bone to pick but couldn’t exactly deal with Malfoy, so Potter got the brunt of it all.

Either way, his attempt to put Potter in her place had not gone how he planned. It had gone so far from what he planned that he’d spent the last nearly two weeks in a state of constant anxiety. He was choosing to ignore Potter's use of Parseltongue for now— but, Merlin, hearing the language of snakes coming from her had left him cold— at the moment he just wanted to prove or disprove what she had said that day.

There was no way the girl knew anything of use— or so he’d been telling himself for the last few days.

It was this goal that led him here, swiftly approaching the desk that Potter was known for sitting at in the school library. She had multiple books open in front of her which wasn’t at all uncommon and he imagined had nothing to do with the exams that were just around the corner. Potter was a bookworm; it didn’t take anyone long to notice that even if they avoided her most of the time.

Waving his wand he casted a few quick charms to make sure no one would wander in their direction anytime soon then stepped up to the table, crossing his arms with his wand still clutched in his right hand. Potter glanced up at him, and there was something about the particular shade of green in her eyes that had him swallowing back a feeling of unease.

He forced a scoff. “Listen, Potter, if you think I'm going to just let you bluff your way out of any sort of repercussions for recent events, you have got another thing coming.”

His tone had been firm, no trace of the nerves swirling in his get detectable to even the best of Slytherins. Despite this, Potter didn’t look at all worried, the exact same expression she had on her face the other day staring back at him now. She sat back in her seat, calm as can be, and gave him what could only be described as a look of understanding.

“You know, I wouldn’t blame him for what he did.”

Marcus tensed, but didn’t offer up any information or any form of reply, he just stared her down in what he hoped was a menacing way— most people usually thought it was. Judging by the amused gleam in her eyes it wasn’t working as well as it had in the past.

“Augustine was an unreasonable man,” she sympathized quietly and Marcus was unable to stop how he froze at the sound of his grandfather’s name. “I imagine in some circles many would agree with your father’s stand but— well in the eyes of the law...”

He stared, in faintly hidden disbelief, at the small first year in front of him who so calmly brought up what had always been a family secret. That Marcus himself only knew about due to overhearing his parents discuss it one late night when he was a child before he even attended Hogwarts.

As far as the magical world knew, Augustine Flint— the previous Lord Flint— had died of a magical cold that, in his old age, he had been unable to fight off.

The truth of it though... Well, the truth was that his father, Roman Flint, had killed him. Marcus’s grandfather had wanted to marry his father off to a close relative, a first cousin at that, but Roman refused. By that point he had already met the woman who would be Marcus’s mother one day and had been madly in love with her. 

The only problem was that in Augustine’s eyes Aviana was not worthy of becoming Lady Flint. It didn't matter to him that his son was already a grown adult, reaching his late twenties. It didn’t matter that, by that point in time, most family Lords that were Augustine’s age would be handing the title down to their heirs. He was a man who wanted everything to be decided by him and refused to listen to any other Purebloods who suggested it was time to step down as his age steadily increased.

One night Augustine had decided that he would no longer be taking no as an answer and had planned to dose his own son with the strongest love potion one could get their hands on— Amortentia. Then one evening Roman had stumbled across his plan and a fight broke out. Augustine was killed.

It wasn’t uncommon for Purebloods to bury their own kin; most had an area on one of their lands where they would even do so. As old as Augustine was no one thought anything of it when his death was announced, the vast majority assuming that the continuous work of a family Lord had finally become too much and, with a cold as well, his body couldn’t handle the stress. There were no Aurors involved, no Ministry officials; the only ones who attended the funeral were Roman and Aviana.

The two married in the months following the dark event after Roman had settled into his new role in the family. They were given congratulations all around and when the odd person here and there offered their sympathies for Roman’s father being unable to be present the two simply smiled and nodded in reply.

Marcus knew it wouldn’t matter to the Ministry that what his father did was self-defence. It wouldn’t matter that his grandfather had been on the verge of doing something unthinkable to his own child. Murder was murder— and for some people... well getting a Lord of a darker family out of the way would have been a cherry on top.

He was certain that it was his grandfather’s actions back then that made his parents decide not to set up any kind of betrothal for him, despite the many offers they received. Marcus knew his father wanted to be nothing like Augustine; it showed in how involved he kept his son in a lot of things. Pureblood politics and family business that he really didn’t need to teach Marcus as of yet but would always explain in depth whenever he was asked.

“There were a small handful who doubted it, right?” Potter asked in a soft voice, brows tilted upward, eyes wide and innocent. “Some thought it was suspicious but they didn’t have enough support to get the Ministry involved.”

That was the thing about magic, no matter how long ago something happened, if there was evidence brought forward that suggested something was amiss, the Ministry would get involved and answers would be found. In their case, rather damning evidence when his grandfather's body was revealed to be killed, not by any kind of cold, but by a spell.

The only time Marcus ever brought it up had been in a Floo Call two months into his first year. He had been in a Defence class with a rather competent teacher for Hogwarts and the topic of magical law had come up. That was the first time Marcus had been made aware that his father could still be charged for his actions and had made use of the Floo that night, anxiously trailing his fingers across the snakes engraved around the edges of the Floo as his father spoke in a calm voice.

He stared at Potter, his jaw clenching as his mind raced, unsure of what to do; there wasn’t really anything he could do besides step down— stop his aggressive attitude.

Marcus watched as Potter’s wide-eyed stare relaxed into an expectant one, a single brow remaining up. Swallowing, he gave a short nod, more for the sake of doing something other than fleeing. His arms dropped to his side, his wand held loosely in one hand, and he watched as Potter's gaze flickered down to it but no sense of worry seemed to hit her. Instead, she gave him a smile, that same smile she gave him in the common room; one that he swore would make a small voice in the back of his mind say—

Got you.

With one last glance around them Marcus stepped back, turning around and leaving the library, his mind already running over what to do next. He knew his options and he thought over the pros and cons of each choice and when he looked over his shoulder, back to where Potter was focused on her books yet again, he resisted the urge to sigh.

Things either just got really complicated or a lot more interesting.

Rose was feeling rather conflicted as of late. She was currently holed up in the library by herself, her brother at Quidditch practice with Ron going to watch and Hermione up in her dorm studying like crazy. The library wasn’t terribly packed today and Rose was certain most people were studying in their dorms so they could take the odd break to cry without anyone being around. It was a good thing to Rose, it meant that the back table that she liked to sit at was empty. She'd be able to sit at one end of the table, have her books spread out around her and there would be no noisy interruptions. Not that there ever were many interruptions to begin with, what with Madam Pince hovering around.

Back to her conflicted feelings.

Two nights ago, Rose, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Malfoy finally served their detention for getting caught out of their dorms after curfew a few weeks back. To say it was dramatic was an understatement. They had all split into two groups: Neville, Malfoy and Hagrid's dog Fang and Harry, Rose, Hermione and Hagrid himself. As expected, the first group was a bit of a disaster. Malfoy scared Neville, causing the frightful boy to let off the warning sparks Hagrid told them to do when they first set off. Hagrid then sent Harry and Rose with Malfoy, figuring the boy would have much less of an easier time scaring either one of them.

What followed was a run in with whatever had been killing the unicorns in the forest since the start of term. Predictably Malfoy ran off while Harry and Rose dropped to the ground as their scars exploded with pain. They were then saved by a centaur by the name of Firenze. The centaur led them out of the forest, urging the two to sit upon his back, and warned them of an upcoming danger. (The other centaurs were very displeased about this.)

Harry, ever the quick mind, was swiftly able to pick up Firenze’s backwards way of speaking and realized that the thing in the forest had been Voldemort.

So now they were at the conclusion that Snape— still the three Gryffindors prime suspect— was after the Stone for Voldemort. Harry was determined to keep the Stone safe, stating his relief that Rose hadn’t forgotten the Invisibility Cloak up at the Astronomy Tower the night they sent Norbert away. Rose wanted to get Harry to calm down and ease his worries, but even she had to admit that the frequent stabbing pains in both their scars was rather worrying.

It was conflicting.

On the one hand this was a dangerous thing and from the sounds of it the staff here at Hogwarts had no idea what was coming. Even Rose knew that a previously powerful Dark Lord getting a hold of something like the Philosopher’s Stone was rather dangerous. On the other hand she did not want her or her brother to be involved. They just got a piece of a life where they didn’t have to worry about when they’d get to eat or if they’d be locked up. Rose didn’t want to start trying to save the world and risk dying before they even got a chance to enjoy their new life.

More than anything Rose still wanted that life she and Harry had talked about as children. A happy life on the beach somewhere with no fears or worries. She was starting to think that life wouldn’t happen in the magical world.

A short rhythmic tap broke Rose out of her increasingly despondent thoughts.

Looking up she was only mildly surprised to see Marcus Flint standing at the other end of the table. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, an all-together neutral expression on his face and he was wearing his Slytherin uniform, his tie in precisely the right spot and not a wrinkle in sight. Rose had only spoken to the older Slytherin once since their little showdown in the common room. She wasn’t exactly certain what he would do next after that conversation.

Lifting one brow, Rose looked at the boy in question.

Flint jerked his head to the seat next to him that was across the table from Rose. “This seat taken?”

Holding back any visible signs of surprise, Rose eyed the boy carefully, her mind already wondering what his ploy was. He didn’t look particularly threatening but he was a Slytherin and they were beyond skilled at concealing their true feelings regarding things. Tilting her head slightly Rose finally gestured to the seat in an unspoken invitation to sit.

Nodding in thanks, Flint sat down, putting his bag on the table and starting to pull out his books. Rose watched him for a few more minutes before her attention turned to the books he placed out on the table. They looked pretty interesting, one in particular.

“It’s Ancient Runes.”

Rose’s eyes shot up and she saw Flint studying at her, his gaze trailing to the book she had been eyeing and then back to her in a silent explanation for his comment. Pushing the book towards her, he spoke again, his voice more informative now. “It’s a class you won't take until your third year— if you choose too. It’s one of the class electives.” When Rose’s brow furrowed slightly he went on. “Ancient Runes, Alchemy, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination and Muggles Studies.”

She had to hand it to Flint; his face had no signs of distaste when he told her the last of the Hogwarts electives. Nodding in understanding she pulled the book closer to herself, opening it up to the first page. Rose had no idea what any of it meant but that just made it even more intriguing. 

Flint didn’t speak again at first, instead going back to his book for a few minutes while Rose looked over his Ancient Runes textbook. He half expected her to give it back sooner, she had no idea what the topic was even about after all.

“I can give you my books from my first year of Ancient Runes,” he offered in a somewhat cautious tone. Rose looked up at him, narrowing her eyes briefly then nodding once. Flint eased up a bit at the positive response. “I can explain some of it now to you if you want?”

Rose pushed the open book towards him almost instantly, pointing at something on the page.

Tilting his head to get a better look, Flint began explaining some of the basics, leaning forward on the table as he pointed at things when he got to them. The two spent the next hour there, Flint answering any unspoken questions Rose had about the topic.

Once again Harry and Rose were back aboard the Hogwarts Express. It was rather bittersweet. They were more than ready for the school year drama to be over but at the same time neither one of them wanted to go back to Privet Drive. They had asked to stay at Hogwarts over the summer— or anywhere else really— but were told they had to go back. 

That was disappointing to hear.

The school year had ended with a rather big bang. After exams Harry was able to deduce the suspiciousness of the stranger in the bar that had given the dragon egg to Hagrid. Pointing out how vocal Hagrid was about wanting a dragon and how everyone knew how easy it was getting Hagrid to talk after a few drinks. When Harry had rushed them all to Hagrid's, and he questioned the man about the stranger and Fluffy, Hagrid revealed that he told the stranger that all Fluffy needed to fall asleep was some music.

Merlin, it was stuff like this that left Rose so impressed by her brother. The fact that he could take all these little pieces of a mystery and figure out the bigger picture. Rose would still be scanning the first puzzle piece.

When the group went to tell Professor Dumbledore they were informed that he was out of the castle. In the face of that Harry instantly told Professor McGonagall that someone was after the Philosopher’s Stone and, after she got over her shock of them knowing, they were sent away and told that everything was fine.

It was things like that that had Rose not trusting any adults— they never listened or believed them.

In the end the four of them had gone down through the trapdoor hidden under Fluffy. After going through a series of trials, one of which left Ron unconscious on the ground, they had finally reached the end. Hermione had gone back to get Ron and go get help while Harry and Rose went forward.

The two had then come face to face with, surprisingly enough, Quirrell. They were tied up and then informed about what really happened at the Quidditch game. (To say that Snape attempting to save Harry was amusing and shocking would be an understatement.) They were then forced to listen to the man's delusional rambling only to realize, with mounting horror, that Quirrell was in fact talking to something in his turban. After being forced in front of the mirror, and wasn’t that a sight for sore eyes, they managed to acquire the Stone somehow. Harry quickly lied about what they saw, and they were both shoved away, but the same voice they could hear speaking to Quirrell quickly called them on his lie.

Eventually Quirrell was ordered to remove his turban and they came face to face with the being that killed their parents. The man—men?— then went to grab them only for his hand to blister at the touch. Harry and Rose were quick to grab hold of him, hanging on tightly even through the pain that blasted through their scars. The echoing sounds of Quirrell's screaming rang through their minds as they passed out.

When they had woken they were informed by Professor Dumbledore that the Stone had been destroyed and that Voldemort was gone for now but would no doubt come back again.

The end of year feast was... something. The Great Hall had been decorated with the Slytherin House colours and banners, they had managed to win the House Cup, and they were more than ready to eat only for Professor Dumbledore to announce some last-minute points. Harry, Rose, Ron, and Hermione all got points for their efforts in stopping Voldemort and Slytherin was still looking to win by twenty points, only for Neville Longbottom to be awarded twenty-five points for standing up to his friends.

It was a disappointing loss for Slytherin but Rose wasn’t entirely surprised.

Now on the train, Harry was still in huff about how the House Cup ended.

“It should’ve been a tie!”

Rose smiled at her brother in amusement while Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly awkward glances. The two were thrilled to win but couldn’t deny the feeling of guilt that Rose, in spite of almost dying to get to the Stone, hadn’t ended the year on a win.

She didn’t seem unhappy at least.

Before Harry could rant anymore there was a knock on their compartment door. Harry groaned quietly, he hoped this wouldn’t be a repeat of the trip up here with someone opening their door every ten minutes. Hermione gave him a mildly scolding look before calling out to whoever knocked. The door was pulled open and the three Gryffindors were surprised to see Marcus Flint. All they knew of the boy was that he was an older Slytherin who was on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Speaking of which, Gryffindor lost the Quidditch House Cup. Harry was unconscious in the infirmary at the time of the last game and the Gryffindors didn’t have a second Seeker ready to play. A rather big oversite in Hermione’s opinion.

Oliver was said to be distraught over the whole ordeal.

Turning back to the situation at hand, the four first years stared at Flint with varying expressions. Ignoring the Gryffindors for the most part, Flint held out three books to Rose.

“The books we talked about,” he offered quietly when Rose lifted one brow in question. That had Rose moving, reaching out to take the books from Flint almost instantly. She scanned the titles of them then looked back at the older boy with a silent nod of thanks. Nodding once in return, Flint spared a glance at the other three first years before making his exit.

Harry frowned at his sister, his gaze flickering to the books in her hands. “Since when do you talk to him?”

Rose narrowed her eyes at Harry before her lips quirked into a smile. “You can have friends in your House, but I can’t?”

Harry’s face pulled into a scowl now. “I didn’t say that. I just didn’t realize you knew Flint... or that you guys were lending each other books?” He said the last part questioningly before the beginning of Rose’s question sunk in. “You guys are friends now?”

Rose frowned slightly. “No,” she relented. “We’re just... amicable allies.”

Only Rose could use those kinds of words so casually, Harry thought. He wasn’t even certain he knew what they meant but nodded anyway.

“What kind of books did he lend you?”

Rose didn’t answer Harry beyond a half-hearted shrug as she put her newly acquired books in her bag. Harry didn’t bother questioning her any further, he could tell she was done with talking now, he’d see the books back at Privet Drive anyways.

His face screwed up once more at the thought of Privet Drive.

Harry couldn’t wait to come back next year. Much to his and Ron’s surprise their marks weren’t half bad. He’s certain his Potions mark only remained decent largely due to Rose’s help. Just as Harry had predicted Rose had the best marks in their year, just narrowly beating out Hermione. The latter of which looked more determined than ever as she started pouring over more books as soon as they got their marks.

Notes had been handed out as they boarded the train back at Hogwarts, reminding them not to use magic over the Holidays. (“I always hope they’ll forget to give us these,” Fred said sadly.)

Finally, the Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop in front of platform nine and three-quarters. It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform, with a bustle of people just as eager to head home as most others, and a wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn’t attract attention by bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

“You must come and stay this summer,” Ron said, “all of you— I’ll send you an owl.”

“Thanks,” Harry said gratefully. “We’ll need something to look forward to.” People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

“Bye, Harry!”

“See you, Potter!”

“Still famous,” Ron said, grinning at him.

“Not where I’m going, I promise you,” Harry said, sharing a look with Rose who had a frown on her face. Rose was not as amused at the turn around a lot of the Hogwarts students took towards Harry. Just a few weeks ago they were spitting his name out like an insult and now they were calling out goodbye to him like they were old friends.

Harry, Rose, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together. “There they are, Mum, there they are, look!”

A little girl who had to be Ron’s younger sister was jumping up and down, but she wasn’t pointing at Ron.

“Harry Potter! Rose Potter!” she squealed. “Look, Mum! I can see—”

“Be quiet, Ginny, and it’s rude to point.”

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

“Busy year?” she said.

“Very,” Harry said. “Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley, we really appreciated it.”

“Oh, it was nothing, dear.”

“Ready, are you?”

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still moustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry and Rose, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of the twins.

“You must be Harry and Rose’s family!” Mrs. Weasley said.

“In a manner of speaking,” Uncle Vernon grunted. “Hurry up, we haven’t got all day.” He walked away.

Harry and Rose hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione.

“See you over the summer, then.”

“Hope you have— er— a good holiday,” Hermione said, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

“Oh, we will,” Harry said, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face and Rose snorted, well able to guess what had him in high spirits. “They don’t know we’re not allowed to use magic at home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer...”

Chapter Text

To absolutely no one's surprise Harry and Rose’s summer was horrid.

As soon as they got to Privet Drive their relatives locked up their trunks and wands inside their old cupboard and shipped them up to their shared room. Harry and Rose were relieved that they didn’t think to take Rose’s bag which had some books and a few treats that Rose would usually carry around for Harry. Those treats did not last long though even with Harry’s meticulous rationing.

Poor Hedwig was forced to stay in her cage all summer so far with only scraps of food that Harry and Rose could offer for her to eat, a fact both twins were feeling utterly guilty about. Their sweet owl made her displeasure known though, hooting loudly into the middle of the night much to the ire of their uncle.

Today was an altogether unremarkable one. Their uncle was going to have an important businessman over, along with his wife, so he was going the extra mile to make sure it was perfect. Obviously, this meant that Harry and Rose were to remain out of sight. The two were sent outside and ordered not to disturb their aunt while she got things ready.

Heading out the back door together, Rose linked her arm with Harry’s. It was a brilliant and sunny day, the weather not taking cue to their rather sour mood despite the significance of the date. As they crossed the lawn, and Rose sat down on the garden bench, Harry slumped on the ground in front of her and began to sing under his breath:

“Happy birthday to us… Happy birthday to us…”

Rose smiled in reluctant amusement. She knew Harry was a bit upset about their birthday this year; that was not to say that any other one was particularly memorable but this was the first birthday they celebrated that they actually had friends for. Or so they thought—

No cards, no presents, and they would be spending the evening pretending not to exist. Harry gazed miserably into the hedge in front of them while Rose started to run her hand through his hair in comfort. Harry was grateful Rose was here, he imagined if she wasn’t that he’d be feeling lonelier than ever before. More than anything else at Hogwarts, more than playing Quidditch even, Harry missed his best friends; Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They however didn’t seem to be missing him or Rose at all. Neither of them had written to them all summer even though Ron had said he was going to ask the twins to come and stay at his house for a while.

Countless times Harry had been on the point of unlocking Hedwig’s cage by magic and sending her to Ron and Hermione with a letter but it wasn’t worth the risk as Rose reminded him quietly. Underage wizards weren’t allowed to use magic outside of school. Harry hadn’t told the Dursleys this; he knew it was only their terror that they might turn them all into dung beetles that stopped them from locking him and Rose in the cupboard under the stairs with their wands and Harry’s broomstick. 

For the first couple of weeks back Harry had enjoyed muttering nonsense words under his breath and watching Dudley tearing out of the room as fast as his fat legs would carry him. Rose and he would laugh about it at night, doing their best not to be too loud. But the long silence from Ron and Hermione had made Harry feel so cut off from the magical world that even taunting Dudley had lost its appeal— and now Ron and Hermione had forgotten their birthday.

Rose both loved and hated the fact that Harry had a big heart. Loved it because it made him so special, made him so earnest about everything he did, and it was one of the things that made Rose so certain about life. She couldn’t imagine not having Harry there to pull her out of her shell and to cheer her on or even cheer her up when she was feeling down. She hated it because of moments like this. Harry was slightly guarded (mostly with adults) but once he decided to let someone in, he loved them with all he had. It made them letting him down all the much worse.

She startled as Harry suddenly bolted upright on the ground. He had been staring absent-mindedly into the hedge— and now was staring holes into the hedge. Rose followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything and she reached out to tap him on the shoulder in question. Harry turned and opened his mouth but was cut off as a jeering voice floated across the lawn.

“I know what day it is,” Dudley sang, waddling toward the two.

Dudley was as unpleasant as ever. His ever-growing mass had increased even more since he went off to boarding school and honestly soon their aunt and uncle would have to roll him to and from places.

“What?” Harry said, his gaze trailing back to the hedge.

“I know what day it is,” Dudley repeated, coming right up to them, his blonde hair slicked across his forehead.

“Well done,” Harry said. “So, you’ve finally learned the days of the week.”

Rose pursed her lips. Merlin, her brother was remarkably witty at times; it was one of her favourite things about him.

“Today’s your birthday,” Dudley sneered. “How come you two haven’t got any cards? Haven’t you even got friends at that freak place?”

“Better not let your mum hear you talking about our school,” Harry said coolly, sharing a glance with Rose.

Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bottom.

“Why were you staring at the hedge?” he said suspiciously.

“I’m trying to decide what would be the best spell to set it on fire,” Harry commented idly.

Dudley stumbled backward at once, a look of panic on his fat face.

“You c-can’t— Dad told you you’re not to do m-magic— he said he’ll chuck you out of the house — and you haven’t got anywhere else to go— you haven’t got any friends to take you—”

“Jiggery pokery!” Harry said in a fierce voice. “Hocus pocus— squiggly wiggly—”

“Mum!” Dudley howled, tripping over his feet as he dashed back toward the house. “Mum! He’s doing you know what!”

Harry and Rose paid dearly for their moment of fun. As neither Dudley nor the hedge was in any way hurt, Aunt Petunia knew that no magic had actually been used, but they still had to duck as she aimed a heavy blow at each of their heads with the soapy frying pan. Then she gave them work to do with the promise that they wouldn’t get another bite to eat until it was all done.

While Dudley lolled around watching and eating ice cream, Harry and Rose cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the garden bench. The sun blazed overhead, burning the back of their necks. Harry knew he shouldn’t have risen to Dudley’s bait, the thought doubled by the fact that Rose was suffering because of his actions, but Dudley had said the very thing Harry had been thinking himself… maybe they didn’t have any friends at Hogwarts…

Wish they could see famous Potter Twins now, Harry thought savagely as he spread manure on the flower beds, his back aching, sweat running down his face.

It was half past seven in the evening when at last, exhausted, they heard Aunt Petunia shouting.

“Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!”

Harry moved gladly into the shade of the gleaming kitchen while Rose trailed behind him. On top of the fridge stood tonight’s pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.

“Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!” Aunt Petunia snapped, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. She was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress.

The two didn’t waste time in washing their hands and scarfing down their pitiful supper, with the mood their aunt was in she may have just taken the meal back and sent them to their room. The moment they stopped chewing; Aunt Petunia whisked away the plate. “Upstairs! Hurry!”

As he passed the door to the living room Harry caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jackets. He had only just reached the upstairs landing when the doorbell rang and Uncle Vernon’s furious face appeared at the foot of the stairs.

“Remember, boy— one sound —”

Uncle Vernon never really acknowledged Rose, likely because she never talked to them anymore. Instead, he hurtled his threats at Harry as though he thought maybe one day Harry would stop talking too. The thought amused Harry but not as much as the thought of Uncle Vernon thinking he cowed Rose into submission. Harry knew that if it came down to it, if there were no other options left, Rose would fight, and she’d fight hard.

As Harry and Rose crossed to their shared bedroom on tiptoes, they slipped inside, closed the door, and turned to collapse on the bed. The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.

It had been a few days since Harry and Rose stumbled across a small creature sitting on their bed.

Dobby was its name.

Apparently, Dobby had come to warn them of a grave danger that was waiting for them at Hogwarts; this had Rose holding back a groan of annoyance. Couldn’t they have one peaceful year in their lives?

He also let it slip that he had been stealing their letters from their friends and hiding them— Harry was not happy about that. Dobby then proceeded to try and convince them not to go back and when his efforts failed he performed a bit of magic that had their uncle's dinner ending disastrously and a letter from the Ministry of Magic warning them about performing magic in the summer.

As soon as their relatives realized that Harry and Rose weren’t allowed to perform magic outside of school they had been locked up in their rooms. The two spent days under lock and key, only let out once a day to use the bathroom and had their food pushed through a small cat flap that their uncle installed on the bottom of their door.

If they thought their meals this summer were lacking before then they were sorely mistaken.

Their stay in their prison-like room did not last long though, as one night they woke up to the faces of Ron, Fred, and George Weasley. A sight for sore eyes really. 

The Weasleys twins snuck down to their old cupboard to grab all their belongings while Harry, Rose, and Ron hauled the stuff they needed from their room into the Weasley family’s flying car. (It wasn’t a lot really.) As Fred and George climbed back into the car one of their legs kicked out and hit Hedwig’s cage causing her to start squawking which woke up their uncle.

They managed to get out easily enough and spent the next few hours catching up and traveling to the Burrow; apparently wizards named their houses.

When they arrived at the Burrow they were met with a furious Mrs. Weasley— the sight of which had the three redheaded boys gulping. As she yelled at her children for stealing their father's car and flying through the Muggle world with it, the boys attempted to defend themselves but their claims of the Dursleys locking up and starving Harry and Rose fell on deaf ears. The plump woman then turned to a wide eyed and slightly wary set of twins and welcomed them warmly.

To say the change in tone was disarming would be a bit of an understatement. Mrs. Weasley proceeded to feed them all breakfast, berating her sons as she did so. The group then spent the day doing a few chores— Mrs. Weasley told Harry and Rose they could go rest but neither felt comfortable doing that while Ron and the others worked— and were beyond relieved to be done.

There was a slightly awkward conversation with Mrs. Weasley as the woman told them that Harry would bunk with Ron and Rose with Ginny. The two— and by two it was really just Harry— explained that they’d rather bunk together since they were separated all year long at Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley was very understanding about it, patting them both on the cheek as she assured them that they could share the extra bed in Ron’s room, although warning them it would be a tight squeeze.

Other than that the twins' stay at the Burrow was an interesting one. This was their first look at a wizarding family home. Harry could tell Rose wanted to take apart and analyze all the various knick-knacks that were strewn about the small, but tall, house.

Ron must have told his family about Rose not speaking— or maybe it was the twins? Percy?— because neither Mr. or Mrs. Weasley ever outright asked Rose any questions. Oh, they spoke to her, telling her and Harry this or that, but they never made it seem as though they expected an answer out of her.

They didn’t see much of Ron’s younger sister Ginny. According to Ron she had not stopped talking about them all summer. (Fred and George had been cackling slightly as they told the two that Ginny wanted to be the future Mrs. Potter and then become sisters with Rose Potter.) Harry didn’t mind not seeing her much, he and Rose got enough staring at school, he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with it over the summer.

All in all, life at the Burrow was absolutely incredible.  

One day the Weasleys and Potter twins ventured out to Diagon Alley to get the kids school supplies for their upcoming school years. They were travelling through the fireplace using... Floo Powder? Apparently Floo Powder was just a powdery substance you threw into your fireplace while calling out a destination and it would take you there.

Rose made a mental note to research this more when she had the chance.

There was a bit of trouble at the start as Harry, after trying Floo Powder for the first time, wound up in Knockturn Alley; a rather well-established Dark sector of stores. Rose had gone between Fred and George after that as the Weasleys realized Harry had mispronounced his destination. As luck would have it Harry had run into Hagrid and the man safely escorted him back to Diagon Alley, much to the relief of Mrs. Weasley.

After retrieving their money from their vaults, and boy did it leave the two Potters feeling uncomfortable as the Weasleys opened up their vault to reveal their meagre coins, Harry had told Rose, Ron, and Hermione— who had found the Weasleys when they first arrived— all about where he wound up and who was there.

In a dark shop, filled with dangerous looking things, Harry had seen Malfoy and his father. The latter of which appeared to be getting rid of some no doubt illegal items. He told them Malfoy also spent a great deal of time complaining about him and that his father seemed to be mad that Malfoy had been outdone by Rose and Hermione in terms of marks.

At that point Rose refused to let Harry go on, instead grabbing hold of her brother's arm and dragging him to the bookstore. There was no protesting from Hermione, although Ron did grumble under his breath about going, much to Harry’s amusement.

The trip to the bookstore was... not a good one. For starters they met Lockhart, a man with perfect hair and a perfect smile and books filled with his heroic acts. Rose did not like him from the start. It didn’t help that the man had publicly announced that the Potter twins would receive a set of his books each, free of charge and then manhandled them into a picture.

Harry thought the man was rather fortunate that Rose could not cast any magic.

Harry and Rose proceeded to dump their books into Ginny and Ron’s cauldrons, Rose glaring at Ron fiercely when he tried to protest. It was only Harry’s mutter of how Rose likely wanted nothing to do with the man in question that quieted Ron’s splutters— well, that and the fact that she’d likely toss her books in the garbage or burn them if their friend didn’t keep them.

As they made their way away from the crowd of gogglers that flocked around Lockhart, Malfoy showed up in time to make a snide comment about Harry’s fame. His father was right behind him and clearly there was no love lost between him and Mr. Weasley. In fact, their short, stilted conversation ended with Mr. Weasley throwing fists, much to Fred and George’s enthusiasm.

Just before the two were separated Rose tugged on Harry’s arm and pointed over at one of the aisles behind them. Harry nodded slightly as Rose tore off from their group and he glanced back at the Weasley/Malfoy debacle just as Mr. Malfoy shoved Ginny’s books— which had gone flying in the scuffle— back into her cauldron.

Harry didn’t stick around much longer after that either, choosing to follow his sister instead and peering down each aisle as he went looking for her. He found her halfway down the second last one and standing next to her was Flint, which had Harry frowning slightly as he made his way over.

“... was going to send some other books but you never responded.” Flint was in the middle of saying to Rose.

“Yeah, a house-elf was stealing all our mail,” Harry offered as stepped up to his sister’s side and Rose tilted her head in concession with Harry’s comment.

Flint eyed the two for a moment and Harry wondered if maybe the boy thought they were making it up. It did sound rather outlandish Harry had to admit, though to be fair most things in their life did these days. The older boy seemed to accept the reply in the end as he glanced over at Rose again. “I’ll bring them to school either way.”

Rose nodded once and went back to scanning the titles of the books.

Flint’s dark eyes flickered over to Harry for a brief moment before he stalked off down the way Harry had just come.

Harry looked at his sister in question and only got a raised eyebrow in response. Huffing slightly, Harry looked around and realized for the first time that Rose had three books in one arm and when she pulled yet another one off the shelf she shoved it into Harry’s hand in a silent demand for him to hold it.

“Am I just a walking shopping cart?” Harry asked in faux woe.

Rose smirked, tapped her nose twice, and continued on searching. He couldn’t help the fond smile that broke out on his face even as he rolled his eyes.

One thing Rose made certain to get at the bookstore was extra notebooks, so much so that Harry thought they’d last her until their fifth-year. Rose had a borderline obsession with writing done information about topics that she was interested in. It started when she was seven and Harry had promised her that the two of them would run away one day. She had nicked a notebook that Dudley had thrown away and started researching, and then writing down, survival tips. When she filled the entire book she had been overcome with a surge of accomplishment, one that she was eager to feel again. So after that she got another notebook from school, found a new topic of interest and started the process all over again.

Five years, and countless notebooks later, Rose was still doing this. What once started off as a rather rudimentary form of research, just a bullet list of single sentences scrawled in her at the time childish writing, now had slowly improved to a more organized set of paragraphs with greater details and writing that was distinctly more eloquent.

Although, the only book that survived at Privet Drive had been the survival book, which had once been hidden behind a loose plank along the walls of their cupboard, and now lay in the loose floorboard in their bedroom ready for Rose and Harry to use.

The Dursleys would throw out all the other books as soon as they caught sight of them so Rose eventually just tossed them as soon as she finished a topic. After a year or so had gone by she’d sometimes go back to one of the topics she already found and rewrite all the information again, wishing she could keep the books but knowing she wasn’t able to.

Her magical topics and notebooks were locked up in her trunk and she was beyond happy that she’d never have to get rid of them. Although the odds of her reading them again were rather slim; Harry might though, should he find a topic he liked.

The next spot they went to— they; meaning Harry and Rose— was Madam Malkin's. Harry grew a bit over the summer and Rose wanted more robes for the two of them. She was determined that they have their own wardrobe completely free of hand-me-downs. Harry wasn’t going to complain, Rose would be keeping almost all of their clothes in her trunk anyways.

They also made a quick stop at the Owl Emporium after that to pick up some treats for Hedwig. They were both set on spoiling her for the foreseeable future in order to make up for the abysmal summer they all had.

Then they met up again with the rest of the Weasley clan, not feeling all that tired but ready to head back to the Burrow to relax.

“Did you get everything, dears?” Mrs. Weasley asked as she eyed the bags in their hands.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, we got what we needed.”

“Alright,” Mrs. Weasley said, her eyes sweeping across them all for a quick head count. When she found she had the same number of heads that she arrived with she smiled and said, “let’s head to Leaky Cauldron.” Her eyes trailed over to Harry, and she quietly tacked on, “this time I’ll call out our location and you can just step on through.”

Fred and George snickered while Harry felt his cheeks go warm. He got the feeling that his first Floo trip was one none of them would be forgetting anytime soon.

The last day at the Burrow felt a bit bittersweet. While Harry and Rose were beyond glad to get back to Hogwarts, the place that felt closest to home, the last couple of weeks were some of the best days they had; in fact if it weren’t for the wretched start they had they would say it was the best summer of their lives. Actually, it was the best summer of their lives, the first one they got away from the Dursleys.

But nevertheless, it was time to head back to Hogwarts.

The morning they were set to leave was chaotic. You’d think with seven children and years of doing this that the Weasleys would be more organized. The first time they left George realized he forgot some pranking items back at the house, so they turned back around. The second time they headed off it was only a short drive before Ginny was shrieking about forgetting her diary. Finally, with the third time being the charm, they were off to Kings Cross.

It was a mad dash into the building when they got there they were already very late. The train would be leaving soon, and they weren’t even at platform nine and three-quarters. When they got there, Mr. Weasley sent them all forward one by one, eyeing the big clock above them worriedly as it ticked closer to departure time. Mrs. Weasley looked at Ron, Harry, and Rose and told them she’d take Ginny and through and to come right after them. Nodding in understanding the three watched as the two disappeared.

“Let’s get going, we don’t got a lot’ve time,” Ron said to the twins.

Grabbing hold of their stuff and making sure it was all secure, they took a moment to pause as they realized they all couldn’t go through at once. Glancing between one another, Rose pointed at Harry and Ron.

“You sure?” Harry asked worriedly.

Rose shot Harry a look before pointing to the barrier sharply. Harry grabbed hold of his cart again, tightening his hands around the handle. He and Ron started off towards the barrier with purpose, eyes forward. They slowly picked up speed, as they reached the last few steps they broke into a run and—

Crash!

Harry and Ron went flying, their bodies hurtling over their cart railings until their stomachs rammed harshly into the bar. Their trunks crashed to the ground and both boys quickly followed.

Rose ran forward, her eyes wide with worry as she kneeled beside her brother, her hand reaching out to steady him and a security guard came forward, shouting roughly.

“What in blazes d’you think you’re doing?”

Rose glared at the man yelling at her obviously injured brother as Harry choked out a, “lost control of the trolley.”

Harry sat up, rubbing at his ribs, while Ron ran to get Hedwig who was causing an even larger scene with the racket she was making in her cage. Rose could see people muttering to one another out of the corner of her eye.

“Why can’t we go through?” Harry hissed quietly to Ron, letting Rose pull him upward.

Ron looked around wildly. “I dunno—”

There were still people watching them and Rose pulled Ron to a stop, she could tell his movements were making people more curious about them.

“We’re gonna miss the train!” Ron whispered hurriedly. “I don’t understand— why did it seal itself already?”

Harry was staring up at the big clock. Ten seconds... Nine seconds...

Moving forward Harry gently put his trolley against the barrier and then pushed with all of his might. It did not waver.

Two seconds... One second…

“It's gone,” Harry said slowly, looking at his sister with a desolate expression.

“The trains left,” Ron said in disbelief. “What if Mum and Dad can’t get back? Do you two have Muggle money?”

Harry glanced at Rose and said hesitantly. “I think Ro’ exchanged some of our galleons for Muggle money...?” Rose nodded from where she was standing by Hedwig’s cage, offering the owl some treats in consolation for the accident, and Ron moved over to Harry, pressing his ear against the barrier door.

“Can’t hear a thing,” he said tensely, “What’re we going to do? I don’t know how long it’ll take Mum and Dad to get back to us.”

The two boys looked around wildly, there were a few people watching them but not as many as before since Rose calmed down Hedwig.

“I think we’d better go and wait by the car,” Harry said quietly. “If we keep standing here, we’ll attract too much atten—”

“Harry!” Ron interrupted, his eyes gleaming. “The car!”

“What about it?”

“We can fly the car to Hogwarts!”

“But I thought—”

“We’re stuck, right? And we’ve got to get to school, haven’t we? And even underage wizards are allowed to use magic if it’s a real emergency, section nineteen or something of the Restriction of Thingy—”

“But your mum and dad…” Harry said, pushing against the barrier again in the vain hope that it would give way. “How will they get home?”

“They don’t need the car!” Ron said impatiently. “They know how to Apparate! You know, just vanish and reappear at home! They only bother with Floo Powder and the car because we’re all underage and we’re not allowed to Apparate yet…”

Harry’s feeling of panic turned suddenly to excitement.

“Can you fly it?”

Harry’s excitement was cut off by a smack on his arm. When he turned his head, he saw Rose glaring at him as she shook her head sharply.

“Come on, Ro’!” Ron said imploringly. “We can’t not go to Hogwarts!”

Rose’s gaze flickered to Ron before she looked back to Harry, shaking her head again. She looked over at Hedwig pointedly when Harry raised his brows in question.

“You want to send Hedwig for help?” Harry asked slowly.

Rose nodded and Harry tilted his head in contemplation. That actually made a lot of sense.

Ron cut in. “That’ll take too long! I’ll miss Ginny’s Sorting!”

Harry frowned. He understood Ron’s worry but what Rose said made a lot of sense. Plus, Harry didn’t want to get expelled from Hogwarts, he’d already been accused of using magic once this summer. Ron could see Harry’s choice clear on his face and his own expression wavered slightly before steeling into determination. “I can’t miss her Sorting. You guys wait here, I'm going to Hogwarts.”

Gathering his things, Ron pushed his trolley towards the exit.

The twins glanced at one another before Rose grabbed her bag and opened it. She pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote out a brief message, gesturing for Harry to get Hedwig out with one hand. As Harry opened the cage, Rose rolled up the letter and Hedwig ruffled her feathers indignantly before holding out her leg pointedly.

Rose smiled softly at the action. She never thought she’d see an animal be so poise, but Hedwig did just that. Stepping back with her brother, the two watched as their snowy white owl took flight, heading off towards Hogwarts.

Harry turned to Rose. “What do we do now?”

She looked around them and spotted an empty seat not too far off when she pointed over at it in a reccomendation Harry nodded his agreement. Taking a seat on the small bench, Harry and Rose got comfortable. Harry couldn’t help but wonder where Ron was now, likely already flying high above the Hogwarts Express. The day seemed to tick by at a fast pace and the twins sat in an easy silence with one another. Rose would have loved to look over her books but knew it would not be wise to do so in such a highly populated Muggle area.

The sun was just starting to set when a voice spoke up next to them.

“Mr. and Ms. Potter, why does it always seem to be the two of you at the centre of a problem?”

Harry jumped slightly while Rose glanced over at where Professor McGonagall stood, her usual stern expression on her face. Harry stumbled to a stand while Rose stood slowly, steadying her brother with one hand.

“We’re sorry, Professor,” Harry said lowly. “But the entrance wouldn’t open, even though we made it on time.”

Professor McGonagall nodded. “While peculiar, I have to say I believe you. After we got your message, word was sent to the Hogwarts Express where it was revealed that neither you two nor Ronald Weasley were on the train.” She glanced around at the Muggles wandering by; a lot fewer now that it was later in the day. “We contacted the Weasleys and they said that you had a few minutes to spare when they went through.”

(Huh, the Weasleys must’ve come back through and missed Harry and Rose sitting here.)

She looked back to the two of them and narrowed her eyes. “And where is Mr. Weasley?”

“Uh—” Harry stuttered.

“Arthur Weasley also mentioned that his family’s car had gone missing,” Professor McGonagall said pointedly. “Would you perhaps be able to tell me where it went?”

Harry looked at his sister quickly before glancing down at his feet. He didn’t think he needed to answer that question, it seemed Professor McGonagall already knew what happened.

Taking pity on the guilty looking boy, Professor McGonagall gestured back to the entrance way of platform nine and three-quarters. “Let’s head back. The Hogwarts Express is likely at the station now and the students should be arriving at Hogwarts shortly.”

Both twins were quick to agree, gathering their things together and following behind their professor. Harry was a bit reluctant to run at the entranceway again after that last mishap and he watched carefully as Professor McGonagall stealthily tapped the stone with her wand before nodding to herself.

“No need to run,” she told them quietly. “Just walk forward swiftly and firmly.”

With those words of advice, she stepped forward, disappearing into the stone. Harry and Rose shared a look and quickly followed suit, beyond relieved when they made it through.

Platform nine and three-quarters looked rather odd with no one standing around. It was only the second time either one of them were here, but still, the station seemed to hold the air of a busy and crowded place and it being empty was oddly disconcerting.

“This way.”

The two looked over to where Professor McGonagall was striding towards the back area. Neither twin had gone that way before, obviously not having a reason to go. They dutifully followed behind her, curiously taking in the station as they went. It was designed rather nicely, with little signs here and there and benches pressed against the walls. Unlike in a regular train station there were no signs of litter in sight and the floors and walls seemed to gleam.

Harry was pulled out of his observations when Rose grabbed hold of his arm, stopping him just before he rammed his trolley into Professor McGonagall.

The woman in question narrowed her eyes slightly before turning towards a fireplace. It wasn’t the only one, there was a long row of them stretched out to their left and right and on the top of each of them were small pots much like what the Weasleys had in their home.

Floo Powder.

“Have either of you travelled through the Floo Network before?”

They shared a look, the former with a grimace on his face while the latter looked amused. Scowling slightly at his sister, Harry reluctantly informed Professor McGonagall of his past experience with the Floo.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and the only reason Harry knew she was amused at his story was because Rose did the exact same thing when she was trying not to laugh. Before he could get even more embarrassed Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at their things—turning them all tiny and travel sized and pocketing them— and then reached for the powder.

“There will be no need to worry about mispronunciation,” she stated calmly. “I’ll call out the location and you two can go on through.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief at that.

With little fanfare, Professor McGonagall tossed out the powder into the fire and called out, “Professor McGonagall’s Office, Hogwarts!”

The flames lit up brighter then Harry stumbled forward and, with the same sick spinning sensation, he went twirling through.

When Harry landed he was faced with a feeling of relief that Professor McGonagall took their things as his face was squished up against the rug in front of the fireplace. He hurriedly pushed himself up and moved away from the fireplace as it lit up again and he couldn’t help but frown as Rose stepped through, only stumbling slightly as she moved forward. She glanced around the room before looking over at Harr and raising her brows with a smile.

Harry huffed as he walked over. “Show off.”

Rose laughed at that and Harry couldn’t help but preen. His sister was always so careful and composed— rarely letting herself show what she was really feeling and even when she did it was usually toned down— so whenever he did something that made her laugh it always left Harry feeling distinctly proud and happy.

Professor McGonagall stepped out next, wasting no time in taking out their things and putting them back to their proper size. She looked over to where the twins were standing. “Let’s head to the Great Hall. The rest of the students should be here soon and I have to meet the first years.”

“What about our things?” Harry asked.

Professor McGonagall ushered them towards the door. “They will be placed in your dorms. Now let's go.”

The two followed behind their professor and Harry glanced at Rose as he felt her hit his arm. In her hand was his Hogwarts robe and he could see her throwing hers on as well over the clothes she put on that morning. As Harry shrugged into his he figured it wouldn’t be a crime for them to forgo the rest of the uniform for the evening— people knew what House they were in.

The three made their way out of the office and it was only then that it finally sunk in that the twins were back at Hogwarts. Harry couldn’t help but grin as they exited through a dark, heavy-looking door and the grand hallways were revealed. He was still looking around happily when he felt Rose grab hold of his hand and Harry’s eyes flickered over to his sister and he could see the same sense of relief he felt plastered on her face.

The two walked a few steps behind their professor, listening in on the idle conversations the portraits were making with one another. When they were finally approaching the Great Hall doors, they squeezed each other's hands simultaneously and moved past Professor McGonagall. The Great Hall was empty, no surprise, save for the professors who were seated in their customary seats. A few of them waved over at the twins, or sent them a welcoming smile, and Harry and Rose waved back lightly.

“You two can take your seats,” Professor McGonagall said from behind them.

They glanced back at her as she pulled the doors shut before looking at each other. With one last squeeze they both smiled, Harry’s far more obvious, and broke off in opposite directions, heading to their separate tables.

Rose had to admit, there was something thrilling about being the first one to sit at the Slytherin table. Ignoring the occasional glance she and her brother were getting from a few professors, Rose headed to the opposite side of the table then walked down its length, closer to the head table. She didn’t sit next to it, knowing that it was likely where the first years would sit when they arrived, and instead she sat with her back to the wall facing the rest of the hall a few seats down to the left of the centre of the table.

She looked over at where Harry took his own seat a bit closer to the head table than herself. When he caught her looking at him, he waved his hand through the air excitedly. Rose pursed her lips as she shook her head at her brother’s antics. It did little to deter him, much to her fond amusement. Just when it looked like he was about to say something to her from across the hall the doors opened.

Students began pouring in, looking happy to be back and chatting eagerly with one another. A few stuttered in their movements when they saw the twins already seated but couldn’t exactly stop and stare with more kids coming up behind them.

The Slytherins flocked in together in their typical niches. They were a lot more subtle about their surprise at Rose and one Slytherin did not let his surprise deter him in the slightest. Marcus Flint made his way down the table until he was opposite of Rose and quickly taking a seat, he leaned forward and spoke quietly. “I brought the books, a few others as well.”

Rose nodded slowly, eyeing the boy in consideration. She still wasn’t sure what his goal was here, but he was useful to have around and more than eager to lend her books and explain things she didn’t understand. She had yet to speak another word to the boy, but he didn’t seem that bothered. Not too surprising; while Slytherins weren’t mute for the most part like her, most were less outspoken about things.

“I’ll give them to you when we get back to the dorm?” He asked as other students began sitting down around them.

She nodded again; Rose was yearning to learn more about Runes and Flint seemed to have a habit of writing out notes on the sides of his books that were beyond interesting and rather intuitive considering the boy failed a year.

The older boy nodded back once as he pushed himself up and away from the table. He didn’t spare the students around them a glance, most of which seemed to be third years, as he headed back down to where he would normally sit.

Rose tuned those around her out. She was rather happy that since she and Flint had spoken that day in the common room the vast majority of Slytherin steered clear of her. It was only the ones in her year that made the occasional biting comment; hence her sitting in a spot she knew the third years would normally sit in. She had no desire to listen to them whine or throw underhanded insults in her direction, you’d figure they would realise that she just did not care what they thought.

Scanning the Gryffindor table, Rose couldn’t help but notice that Ron was absent. She hoped he made it to Hogwarts safely, even though his idea was tremendously stupid it didn’t mean he deserved to get hurt during his travels. The sound of the Great Hall doors opening one more time was heard throughout the hall and looking over, Rose watched as a group of first years shuffled in. 

Ginny was easy to spot, her hair flaming red amongst a sea of black, brown and blonde.

As Professor McGonagall went forward with the Sorting, Rose clapped softly as each one was Sorted, her mind pondering over each new student. The idea of the Sorting Hat was an intriguing topic. How could a hat decide the children's personality? What kind of charms were placed on it? Was it completely sentient or did it just have a faint sense of personality like the portraits? If they Sorted kids later on in the years would any of them be in the same House? Rose didn’t think so— at least not for everyone. Likely the experiences they would have would shape them into people their first-year selves would hardly recognize.

“Gryffindor!”

Rose blinked and watched as Ginny rushed over to the Gryffindor table, her face a faint red with embarrassment as Fred and George made a scene. As the Sorting finally reached its end Professor Dumbledore stood and introduced the newest staff member— the sight of which had a lot of the girls sighing dreamily— and gave his customary welcoming speech. Rose glanced over the Gryffindor table one last time as their food appeared before them.

Still no Ron.

Out of the corner of her eye Rose noticed Professor Snape standing up and leaving through a side door and not two minutes after that Professor McGonagall did as well. Pushing all this from her mind Rose turned back to the food, grabbing a few of everything. She was glad that she and her brother had spent time at the Weasley’s before coming here. No doubt going from next-to-no food to a full feast would be hard on the stomach. Reaching out Rose snagged a Treacle Tart that was passing by— it was one of her favourites and it never hurt to have a bit of dessert first.

Merlin, she was glad to be back.

Chapter Text

Gilderoy Lockhart was a fraud.

The fact that they would spend the rest of the year being taught by that egotistical man had Rose wanting to scream. Defence Against the Dark Arts was fairly interesting last year, once you got past the annoyingness of Quirrell's stutter, this man didn’t even attempt to teach. Instead, he spent their class time talking about himself and his so-called heroics and giving quizzes on meaningless things. 

The only thing that had Rose holding it together was that Flint had brought her his books from his second and third year at Hogwarts.

Rose wasn’t sure if it was a Slytherin thing, a Pureblood thing, or just a Flint thing, but the boy seemed to have all of his old school books. Maybe he was a hoarder, maybe he didn’t want anyone touching what was his, who knows. All Rose cared about is having actual information to study.

Hermione was lost in the thrall of Lockhart, like most girls here at Hogwarts; some still had their sense though, thank Merlin. Either way, Hermione was studying the books Lockhart assigned and making sure to ace his quizzes. Rose cared very little if she got good marks on the man's quizzes, as long as she did well on the end of year exam then she’d be fine.

Flint’s habit of making notes in his textbooks was still benefiting Rose and her list of things to study further on was steadily increasing.

Speaking of which, Rose was still thrilled to be learning about Ancient Runes. She was now on the second-year books for the course. She had met up with Flint in the library and gave him a list of all the things she wanted to know more about, to which the boy readily explained in depth.

Rose had recently decided to test out some of the runes and was now going to try to make a containment box. A small box that would mask the magical aura of any object placed inside.

“Why do you want to do that?” Harry asked her as the two of them sat in the library.

Rose shrugged. “To see if I can,” she replied quietly.

That was completely true. Rose didn’t really have a necessary goal with the information she took in, (The only real goal she had was still just the one she and Harry made as kids) for the most part Rose just wanted to see what she could accomplish. When she finished one task, she would find something new to try and do and work on it until she succeeded.

She knew Harry didn’t fully understand working for the sake of discovery but she had been quick to point out his insatiable curiosity. Rose was the same way except she wanted to know how things worked the way they did rather than just why.

Harry left it at that, most likely because he had Quidditch practice.

Speaking of which, it seemed Malfoy had bribed his way onto the team. Rose was made aware of it before Harry was, surprisingly. When she and Flint were reading in the library Flint had quietly told her about how Malfoy’s father mentioned buying the whole team new brooms if Draco managed to make the team this year. To celebrate of course. Rose had only lifted one brow in reply as Flint told her this, wondering why he was mentioning it.

“Do you have a problem with it?” He asked her evenly, not sounding defensive or angry but rather like he genuinely wanted her opinion.

Rose smirked. “It doesn’t matter to me; it still won’t make the team any better than my brother.”

Flint let out a huff of laughter but didn’t deny it, instead tilting his head in acquiesce.

Harry and Ron were in a fit about it though. Mind you, Rose thought it was more to do with Malfoy’s heinous comment to Hermione at one Quidditch practice.

Rose had been mildly surprised by the lack of... involvement from the rest of the Slytherin. Maybe since they were older, they were less crass with their insults? Either way, other than what seemed to be an instinctual jeer after Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood, the rest of the team seemed to look to Flint who then glared them all into silence. 

The silence wasn’t all that noticeable to the others though, as Ron stepped forward intent on defending Hermione. His efforts only proved futile when he shot himself with his broken wand and ended up throwing up slugs. That had most of the Slytherins cracking up, though the majority collected themselves and went back to practice a lot faster than Malfoy, who in the end was rolling around banging his fist on the ground in amusement.

How the boy got into Slytherin with his lack of decorum was beyond Rose.

Ron’s trip to Hogwarts was something to remember. The second day of school everyone was talking about how Ron Weasley flew a car to school and crashed into the Whomping Willow. Ron lucked out for any sort of points punishment by the technicality that school hadn’t started yet. But it wasn’t all glory for Ron, his mother had sent a Howler (and wasn’t that an amusing creation) and chewed him out in front of the whole school, plus Ron’s wand broke in his crash landing and he was too scared to tell his parents he needed a new one. He also had to serve one detention, but in the grand scheme of things that was a fairly light punishment.

Another bit of news, Harry and Rose had been roaming the halls one night and heard a voice whispering about killing someone.

There went their chance for a relatively normal year.

Harry went to a Deathday Party the other night, which ended rather horribly. He had been roaming the halls in early October, not wanting to study in the library with Rose, and bumped into Nearly Headless Nick; Gryffindor’s ghost. He then got himself an invite to Nick’s Deathday Party.

Rose had declined the offer when Harry asked if she’d go with. She read all about Deathday Parties and knew that they were no fun for the living, something that had Harry and Ron groaning as they both promised to go. When Harry left the party, he heard the same voice that he and Rose heard and proceeded to follow it through the castle.

No one ever said he had a lot of survival instincts.

It was at the end of the chase that he, Ron, and Hermione found Mrs. Norris; the caretaker Filch’s cat. The man readily accused Harry of murdering it in front of everyone and Harry earned himself a trip up to Headmaster Dumbledore's office.

Harry had excitedly told Rose about Dumbledore’s pet phoenix when he was finally able to leave. Rose was rather sad she didn’t get to go; phoenix’s were rare even in the magical world.

The whole incident brought forth a new mystery for their group, much to Rose’s irritation. The Chamber of Secrets had been open and apparently enemies of the heir had to beware and Malfoy loudly proclaimed that it meant Muggleborns. Though that was not the word he chose to use to describe them.

All the Hogwarts, A History books had been checked out much to Hermione’s displeasure. She recalled reading something about the so-called chamber in the book but could not remember it and hadn’t brought her copy this year.

It turned out, surprisingly enough, Professor Binns held their answers. He told them all about the Chamber of Secrets at Hermione’s insistence. About how Salazar Slytherin had kept a monster hidden deep within Hogwarts and how he planned to release it to purge the school of those unworthy of learning magic. Rose hadn’t been terribly surprised. She was in Slytherin and she knew the general aura the bunch gave off, it wouldn’t be too big of a surprise that their founder would hold those beliefs as well.

There were already rumours flying about it being Harry— which meant Rose too by connection.

Rose was now sitting in her bedroom— Harry, Ron, and Hermione had a class to go to— practicing more wandless magic. She was proud to say that she could levitate things around her room with ease but now wanted to move onto the next thing: Shrinking Charms.

She spent the first year ‘exercising’ her knack for wandless magic. She read enough to know if she pushed too much too fast, she’d exhaust her magic. So, Rose took her time, slowly levitating items with greater and greater weight and mass until she could do so with ease. Now that she felt comfortable with that, she was going to try a lot of new spells, relatively easy ones in terms of magic casted with wands, but still tricky for wandless magic.

Currently she had a book levitating in front of her, had so for the last twenty minutes; she couldn’t quite seem to get the thing to shrink. At most it would shake a bit but it didn’t get any smaller. Not wanting to get upset with the lack of progress, Rose took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and resolutely pictured the book getting smaller in her mind.

With the book hovering between her hands Rose pulled one hand over the book towards herself and the other under the book away from herself. She continued the motion until her hands spun in a complete circle then tucked them both under where the book should be.

Opening her eyes, Rose beamed.

Sitting in the air above her palms was a miniature book. Not taking her eyes off it this time Rose moved her hands in the opposite direction then she had before, watching with awe as the book twisted and grew until it was back to normal.

She couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at her lips when Rose saw what she had accomplished. She glanced around the room, already planning to try other objects to shrink. The fourth-year books that Flint had gotten for her caught her eye and Rose quickly summoned them with beckoning fingertips. She hadn’t had a chance to read any of them yet but clearly, they were still useful to her.

Rose was furious. Her brother was currently injured in the infirmary and while it was partially due to a Quidditch sabotage (because a Bludger continuously going for Harry was no accident) it was mostly due to Lockhart's incompetence. The man, if he could even be called that, in a fit of brilliance vanished all the bones in her brother's arm.

Really, the dream of living a peaceful life with her brother was slowly getting further and further from Rose’s grasp. The mystery of the Chamber of Secrets continued to linger and Hermione was determined to prove who it was. She, Ron, and Harry all seemed to think it was Malfoy.

Rose had scoffed when they first suggested it. The idea that that brash boy could be the Heir of Slytherin was laughable. Sure he may be a Pureblood but he lacked the more obvious traits Slytherin was known for. Subtly being the most obvious one. But the other three were sure he either was it or knew who was, so Hermione had a plan to sneak into the Slytherin common room using Polyjuice Potion.

Polyjuice Potion was a potion that required a bit of someone else's hair thrown into it and when someone drank it, they would turn into them for an hour. Rose largely agreed to this plan just so she could attempt to make the potion. They planned to do it during Christmas break when there would be a lot less students around and Rose would let them inside. The girl seriously doubted they’d find anything of use, but she wasn’t going to go out of her way to stop them.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Rose looked over at Hermione taking in the girl's fiercely concentrated expression with faint amusement. Glancing down at the potion brewing in the cauldron in front of them Rose pursed her lips in contemplation. It looked to be on the right track according to the textbook they got the recipe from.

“How’s it look?”

Both girls leaned to the side as Ron shoved his face between them to get a look at the potion. Doing a move she had done to Harry so many times before, Rose placed her hand on Ron’s face and shoved him away gently.

“It looks good.” Hermione answered while Ron wrinkled his nose at Rose, more for the sake of doing it than out of any actual annoyance. He’d seen her do that to Harry all the time and didn’t take any offence.

The three of them were crammed into one of the stalls in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It was one of the few rooms that didn’t get any visitors as Myrtle— the ghost that mostly lived in the bathroom— was known to be a bit much to deal with. Ron opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut as the door to the bathroom opened.

“What do we do?” He whispered hurriedly to the girls.

Rose held up a finger to her mouth while Hermione whispered, “be quiet!”

“It’s me,” Harry’s voice rang out and they heard the door shut behind him. Despite recognizing his voice Hermione still gasped and dropped something into the toilet before rushing to peek through the keyhole.

“Harry!” she said. “You gave us such a fright— come in. How’s your arm?”

“Fine,” Harry said, squeezing into the stall. Rose scanned her brother intently, looking first at his arm and then his face to see if he was lying about how fine he was. Harry looked over their makeshift potions table with a slight nod.

“We’d’ve come to meet you but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion,” Ron explained as Harry, with difficulty, locked the stall again. “We’ve decided this is the safest place to hide it.”

Harry hummed slightly as he finally got the door locked before looking over at them and telling them about Colin Creevey getting attacked.

“We already know— we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That’s why we decided we’d better get going—”

“The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better,” Ron snarled. “D’you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin.”

Colin Creevey was a first-year boy who was quite the fan of Harry and Rose. Luckily Rose had been able to avoid him for the most part, the same couldn’t be said for Harry. Colin had been Sorted into Gryffindor and had gotten a hold of the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice schedule. He was a fairly sweet and harmless kid; it was a shame to see he too was attacked by Slytherin’s monster.

“There’s something else,” Harry said, watching Rose tear bundles of knotgrass and throw them into the potion. “Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night.”

That had them all looking up at Harry in surprise. Harry then told them about his conversation with Dobby; how the house-elf belonged to the Malfoy family and he still believed Harry and Rose to be in grave danger. Apparently this wasn’t the first time the Chamber of Secrets had been open and Dobby had gone to great lengths to keep Harry and Rose from getting here. Now was apparently trying to get them back to Privet Drive.

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?” Hermione said while Rose frowned in consideration.

“This settles it,” Ron said in a triumphant voice. “Lucius Malfoy must’ve opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he’s told dear old Draco how to do it. It’s obvious. Wish Dobby’d told you what kind of monster’s in there, though. I want to know how come nobody’s noticed it sneaking around the school.”

Rose couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Ron’s theory. She highly doubted it was the Malfoys, she didn’t think the obviously egotistical family would be able to keep quiet about being a part of the Slytherin line.

“Maybe it can make itself invisible,” Hermione pondered aloud, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. “Or maybe it can disguise itself— pretend to be a suit of armour or something— I’ve read about Chameleon Ghouls—”

“You read too much, Hermione,” Ron said, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag and looked at Harry, ignoring the looks of offence on Hermione and Rose’s face. Merlin, those two were too obsessed with books.

“So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm.” He shook his head. “You know what, Harry? If he doesn’t stop trying to save your life, he’s going to kill you.”

Hermione frowned. “I don’t understand how injuring you would get Ro’ out of Hogwarts.”

Harry huffed a small laugh at that. “Dobby said Ro’ wouldn’t leave me to go back alone.”

The girl in question raised her brows in agreement to that. Sure, she hated Privet Drive with every fiber of her being and Hogwarts held so many interesting pieces of information, but Rose would never leave Harry alone. It’s why she continuously got involved in these ridiculous schemes. It was her and Harry, together for always.

One evening everyone was eagerly gathered in the Great Hall. The long tables of the four Hogwarts Houses had been vanished and a long golden stage was placed against one wall. It seemed as though the whole school had come out to join the new Duelling Club.

Harry stood in the crowd holding onto his sister's hand, waiting with her, Ron, and Hermione for the club to get started. He was greatly looking forward to the distraction— it seemed he and his sister were in for another complicated year at Hogwarts. The unfortunate series of events lately proving just that; on Halloween night Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris had been petrified by some monster Salazar Slytherin had kept in his Chamber of Secrets; just a few nights ago Colin Creevey had been found petrified as well; to make matters worse it seemed like a fair few people were beginning to think Harry or his sister were at fault!

By a stroke of bad luck, Harry was present when Mrs. Norris was found— Ron and Hermione were present as well, but no one seemed to focus on that— and it was rather known that Colin Creevey had taken to following Harry around. 

Harry had overheard some older years muttering, "I guess Potter got sick of his tail and got rid of it." 

Rose seemed unbothered by all the rumours, which was normal for her, Harry hadn't seen much really affect her since they were kids. It seemed people were more inclined to think that Rose was Slytherin's heir then they were to think it was Harry, presumably because she was actually in the Slytherin House.

He shook his head to get rid of his troublesome thoughts as Hermione wondered aloud who would be teaching them.

Harry was just about to say who he hoped it wasn't when the person he was just about to name stepped onto the stage, greeting everyone with his usual over the top flair.

Gilderoy Lockhart was a very disappointing man. From his teaching skills to his so-called heroics that just did not seem at all possible— at least not possible for Lockhart to do. As he made his introductions Harry reminisced back to the first disastrous class they had with the man. It was truly awful and Harry was glad that Hermione stopped defending the man so quickly.

Rose had hated him from the start; before she even met him properly. Rose had a distinct distrust of anyone who looked, in what most could be categorized as, 'too perfect'.

"Perfect images hide monsters, Harry."

That's what she would always tell him when they were younger. He supposed she was right a lot of the time. Harry knows that from the outside the Dursley’s could be labeled as the perfect family; but on the inside they were horrible.

Rose’s opinion of Lockhart only further declined after the first class. Rose loved magic, she loved learning everything there was to learn about this world that they were now a part of. So the fact that she had to sit and listen to Lockhart's lie's and take his useless tests...

Yeah, Rose hated the man.

Harry turned his focus back to Lockhart just as the man introduced his assistant for the Duelling Club.

Snape.

Now that was a man that Harry hated. The Potions Professor was a miserable being and at times would remind Harry of his Uncle Vernon. Which was not in the least bit complimentary. The man seemed to be determined to hate Harry and had so before even meeting him. His heinous personality made itself known since the very first potions class when he went out of his way to insult and humiliate him.

Pushing back his clear disdain of Snape, Harry tried to enjoy his time in the club. After watching Lockhart and Snape give a demonstration of a disarming spell— and watching Lockhart get his arse handed to him— they were split into groups to practice said spell. Snape, the greasy git, went out of his way to pair Harry with Malfoy. Honestly, what was the harm in letting them pick their partners? If he had any sense, which Harry was sure he did not, he would realize that pairing him with Malfoy would only end in disaster.

The groups carried on with practicing the spell until things got out of hand, shockingly, and Lockhart decided to show someone how to block unwanted spells. It was a good idea— until Snape got his greasy hands all over it and decided to put Harry up against Malfoy.

What happened next was— in a word— disastrous.

No surprise Lockhart was no help at all, but to make matters worse it seemed Snape was determined to see Harry humiliated as he whispered something to Malfoy. Malfoy was clearly eager to listen to the man and proceeded to cast a spell that released an angry looking snake. Lockhart only caused things to further deteriorate in his attempts to help.

When the snake turned on Hufflepuff second year Justin Finch-Fletchly, Harry was quick to try intervening. Rushing forward he shouted, “stop!” and was beyond surprised when it worked. The snake, now docile and complacent, turned to face Harry.

Harry grinned, looking towards Justin expecting to see relief on his face only to be greeted with an angry expression that had slight traces of fear around the edges. Things seemed to blur for Harry after that and he was dimly aware of being steered out of the hall by Ron and Hermione.

Rose took her time leaving. Stepping around a few students, she reached down to pick something up off the ground as she followed after her brother and friends. When she stood straight and made towards the exit everyone in a nearby radius backed up hurriedly. In her hands was the snake Malfoy unleashed, still looking as docile as ever. After she took a few steps, Rose raised her hands in the air, lifting the snake up high— instantly there was a flash and the snake vanished. Lowering her arms easily she continued to make her way out of the hall while heads turned towards the direction the flash had come from.

Professor Snape was slowly lowering his wand, a blank expression on his face as he eyed the now empty doorway.

Hogwarts has been absolutely buzzing for the last few weeks. After it was revealed that Harry Potter was a Parselmouth the entire school had been on edge. It didn’t help that shortly after this, Justin Finch-Fletchly— the same person that almost got attacked by a snake at the Duelling Club— and Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, were petrified. It just so happened that Harry Potter was caught red handed by Peeves and it was said he was taken straight to Professor Dumbledore.

He was still in school so clearly the headmaster must believe in his innocence, but still— suspicious. 

Harry had been getting the brunt of the blame shoved onto him; his sister Rose was as well. There were some people trying to say that she was making him petrify students with her. Which was just beyond ridiculous. For starters, no one had heard Rose Potter speak Parseltongue, only Harry Potter. Second, Harry was the one who was spotted at two crime scenes and had a connection to the other victim. Clearly the signs were there.

Fred and George Weasley seemed to find the entire thing hilarious. The two were seen strutting through the halls with the Potter twins, loudly proclaiming them the Heirs of Slytherin and asking the pair to take them to their lair. Not everyone was so amused by this and were beyond glad that it was almost winter break.

Now, the Slytherins were a conflicted group these days.

Mind you, there weren’t many of them who were all too worried about Slytherin’s monster or the Chamber of Secrets. They were Purebloods after all. However, the fact that Harry Potter was a Parselmouth was astonishing.

Insulting too.

Parseltongue was a well sought out ability in Dark— even Neutral— Pureblood circles. Most families would kill to have an heir with the gift. So the fact that a Gryffindor, and more importantly Dumbledore’s Golden Boy, had the ability was… affronting.

Another topic on the vast majority of the Slytherin House’s mind was whether or not Rose Potter was a Parselmouth like her brother. Her being one would not be as insulting as the other Potter given that she was an actual Slytherin and displayed many of traits Slytherins prided themselves in. No one was sure how to find out the truth about this though, it’s not like Potter spoke much in English to begin with, never mind Parseltongue.

“There’s no way Potter wouldn’t have brought it up before now if she had the gift,” one of the sixth-year Slytherin boys said to the group currently seated in the main sitting area in the common room.

“What is she going to do? Tell us? She doesn’t talk,” one of the seventh-year Slytherin girls pointed out.

There was not much studying going on at the moment, what with Yule break in just a few days, because of this the Slytherins were enjoying some downtime. Lounging in the cluster of seats in front of the fireplace were an assorted group of students, ranging from third-years up to seventh-years.

“Malfoy seems to think she doesn’t have the gift,” Graham Montague offered, a third-year student.

Adrian Pucey couldn’t help but scoff at that. “Malfoy’s too blinded by his feud with the other Potter to think clearly about this.”

There was a general murmur of agreement at that.

Draco Malfoy was rather known for two things. One; threatening to complain to his father when he was displeased and two; complaining about Harry Potter. The only reason they didn’t tell him to stuff it was because of his father, no one wanted to piss off Lucius Malfoy.

“She didn’t seem to be scared to pick up the snake,” Terrence Higgs offered calmly as he thought back to the day of the Duelling Club.

One of the seventh-year girls made a slight noise of disagreement. “That doesn’t exactly prove anything. She could just not be scared because she’s used to snakes. It wouldn’t be surprising considering her brother can talk to them.”

Adrian pointed over at her in agreement. “Exactly. As far as we know she doesn’t have the gift. Case closed.”

Lucian Bole shook his head at the boy three years below him and pushed his brown hair out of his face with a careless hand. “It’s not that simple. We need to know if she can speak Parseltongue, it will change a lot of things if she does.”

“Like what?” Adrian countered sharply.

Peregrine Derrick sat forward at that. “The last Parselmouth to attend Hogwarts was the Dark Lord,” he pointed out in a hushed tone “He was powerful and a Parselmouth and because of this he shot to the head of the Slytherin Hierarchy in his second year.”

“Potter fits these qualities too,” Lucian finished off for him, sharing a look with more than one person.

That was something they had to keep in mind. Slytherins always made sure to stick close to or, at the very least, remain on good terms with those who could rise to power. Right now, almost the entire Slytherin House was on rather strained terms with Rose Potter— the one exception being Marcus Flint, who, after a botched attempt to put Potter in her place last year, was on vaguely familiar terms with her.

“Since when has Potter had power?” Gemma Farley spoke up. She was not refuting the claim, she just wasn’t running in the same circles with Potter enough to get a sense of the girl.

“You’re kidding, right?” Terrence glanced over at her offhandedly. “Have you seen what the girl is reading lately?” He looked around at the rest of the group of students. “She’s not even halfway through her second year and she’s already tearing through the third and fourth-year curriculums.” Tilting his head in consideration he absently added, “I’m marginally surprised she wasn’t placed in Ravenclaw.”

More than a few people were surprised at this news. Fact of the matter is, what with her being one of the Twins-Who-Lived and Marcus’s earlier warning, almost the entirety of the Slytherin House avoided the girl and just haven’t been close enough to witness all this.

“How do you know this?”

Terrence glanced over at Gemma and offered her a shrug. “Marcus will study with her in the library once in a while, I’ve joined them a few times. He started explaining runes to her back in her first year and she picked it up fast.”

Adrian couldn’t completely deny that. He reluctantly joined Marcus one or two times during his study sessions with Potter; she definitely had a keen mind. That didn’t mean she was going to be powerful though, there were loads of people who were book smart but didn’t make a name for themselves— Ravenclaw was crawling with those types of people.

“Keeping all this in mind,” Lucian spoke up after they took a few moments to take in the new bit of information on Potter. “Next year will be Marcus’s last year at Hogwarts and as of now he seems to be actively staying on Potter’s good side. That means there’s a good chance that when he leaves Potter might take a swing at the head spot.”

Graham huffed lightly. “If anyone’s going to take a shot at the head spot when Marcus leaves it’ll be Malfoy.”

Gemma pulled a face at that. “No way does he get it. He doesn’t fit the rest of the criteria,” she threw in. “His main selling point is his family name and that’s not enough to get him the spot.”

That was true. While throwing around mentions of his father let Malfoy get away with a lot, it would not guarantee him the head place in Slytherin. Even Lucius Malfoy respected the intricate hierarchy of Slytherin enough not to actively involve himself in his son’s standing in the House. A lot of Slytherin’s relied on the hierarchy to tell them who will and who will not be going places in the future. All the students regularly updated their parents or relatives to any changes in the standings while they were still attending school.

“Are either of you going for the spot when Marcus leaves?” Olivia Shardlow, one of the sixth-year girls, asked Adrian and Graham.

Graham shook his head, not entirely surprising as it was Adrian who was at a higher position than him. Adrian had a conflicted look on his face as he considered the question. “I’m… unsure as of now.”

He got a small hum of understanding from Gemma. “Not exactly a position you want to take over lightly, especially leading up to your seventh year.”

Adrian just raised his brows in agreement.

“What about Warrington?” Peregrine asked the two. “You think he will go for it?”

“Probably,” they both said simultaneously.

The group lapsed into a silence after that, each one pondering on how the next few years would go. Some would be out of Hogwarts soon but they couldn’t help but wonder how things were going to turn out, they’d definitely keep in touch with those who’d be here to see it. When everyone anticipated the Potter twins’ entrance to Hogwarts it was safe to say that none of them imagined any of the things that happened happening. The sound of the portrait door opening broke the silence the group had lapsed into and those drawn from their deep thoughts glanced over at it. More than a few of them sat up straighter as Marcus wandered in, adjusting his bag on his shoulder as he went.

Sharing a glance with Peregrine, Lucian called out. “Hey, Marcus!”

Marcus’s eyes darted over to their group and without hesitation he stalked across the room towards them, nodding in greeting.

“What’s going on?”

Lucian shared a look with a few of the others before asking something that’s been on his mind for almost a year now. “Why are you so okay with Potter?” He asked bluntly, more interested in gaining answers than he was for being subtle. “Also, do you think she can speak Parseltongue?” Peregrine shook his head, torn between exasperation and amusement at his friend’s rapid-fire questions.

Marcus’s reaction to the questions was— odd. He glanced around the room before looking back at them with a blank expression. “What, were you all just sitting here talking about Potter?”

Gemma huffed softly. “Well, of course. The Gryffindor-Potter was just discovered to be a Parselmouth, it’s only logical that we’d wonder about his twin.”

The boy clenched his jaw at her reply and let his bag drop to the ground then he leaned on the arm of the couch closest to him, next to where Adrian was sitting expectantly. “Yeah, I think she can speak Parseltongue.”

Adrian eyed his friend for a long while. He, like Terrence, was rather close with Marcus, yes at first because he was once prime for the top position of the Slytherin Hierarchy, and later became just that, but mostly because he was a pretty good friend. Adrian sat forward. “You know what we’re getting at here, Marcus. Last year you were dead set on putting Potter in her place and in less than a minute you changed your mind.”

Marcus released a deep breath, running a hand through his dark hair and looking at the group in consideration. Lifting a hand, he gestured absently around them. “What do you notice about our common room?”

They all frowned, not expecting the non sequitur, but followed the silent prompt and began scanning the room and taking in all the familiar décor. There was more than one thing that came to mind as they looked around. Green. Dark. Elegant. But one stood out more than any other.

“Snakes.”

Marcus looked over at Gemma and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Snakes.” He stared at one of the ornate snakes that was carved into the coffee table between all of them. “We have snakes here, in our dorms, even in the other rooms of Hogwarts…” Rubbing at his jaw absently he lowered his voice and said, “we’re surrounded by snakes. Snakes that listen in on our conversations… snakes that tell all of our secrets to whoever is capable of asking them to.”

The entire group froze when he said this before looking at all the snakes decorating their House with dawning eyes.

“No way…” Adrian said slowly.

“Is that what she told you that day?” Terrence asked quietly. He had always wondered, but other than the day it all happened Marcus never brought it up again.

Marcus nodded once, unclenching his jaw with a slow breath.

“How did you even know if she was telling the truth?” Olivia asked tensely.

Marcus’s gaze flickered over to her for a second. “I wasn’t sure at first. I mean— I was almost certain she could speak Parseltongue, she spoke in it for a second that day, but whether she was telling the truth about the snakes… I waited a month before asking her about it again. I made it seem like I didn’t believe her, that I thought she was lying, and—” He let out a soft, unamused bout of laughter, shaking his head. “Well— I believe her. There was no other way she could have found out what she did. The only time I spoke about it out loud here at Hogwarts was in a private Floo Call with my parents.”

Reaching down to pick up his bag, Marcus shoved it over his shoulder and eyed the group once more. “Fact is, anything you have said to each other or even in your Floo Calls, the snakes in our house have heard and have told Potter. Her brother may be Dumbledore’s Golden Boy but she doesn’t strike me as the type to not use any information she has against you if needed.” He frowned at the ground as he mulled over what he was going to say next.

“… we don’t know how things are going to play out. Even if they do turn out the way a lot of Dark families are hoping they will, there is still a large chance that Potter will play a key role in things later on. I’ve studied with her a lot and she is no slouch. I’d say she could beat most of the fourth years in a duel if she had to. Trust me, she’s not someone you want to piss off early on.”

With that parting warning, Marcus turned and headed for the dorms, leaving behind a flock of shocked and slightly wary Slytherins.

And two floors up, in the girls’ dorms, a small innocuous snake engraving slithered loose and began coiling down the bedpost it was embellished upon, lowering itself closer and closer to the person sitting on the bed before arching outwards and repeating what was heard in the common room.

Rose Potter glanced up from the book she was reading as she listened, gazing at nothing in particular as a smirk slid across her face.

Chapter Text

It’s been two weeks since Christmas break and Hermione was still in the Medical Wing. Due to a mishap with the Polyjuice Potion she accidentally put cat hair into her portion of it and...

Well, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Unsurprisingly to Rose— Harry and Ron did not garner any useful information about the Chamber of Secrets from Malfoy. Though they did find out about a hidden room the Malfoy family had in their manor that Ron immediately told his dad about.

They were raided and given quite a hefty fine.

Word quickly spread between the returning students about Hermione’s absence and at first it was thought she had been attacked. Harry and Ron hurriedly informed people of the contrary, telling them that she was just feeling sick after multiple people were seen wandering past the Medical Wing trying to get a good look at her.

The two Gryffindor boys made sure to get her homework from each class and bring it to her, much to Hermione's pleasure. Ron at one point told her that if it was him who’d grown a pair of whiskers, he’d take the week off. Rose didn’t spend much time hanging around, although she did give Hermione her notes from all of their classes (except for DADA). Rose knew for a fact that the boys’ notes would be stupendously vague and at times off topic. Hermione had never been more grateful for her after the bushy haired girl had spent an hour looking over the notes brought to her by Harry and Ron, trying to make sense of them.

So, while Harry and Ron kept Hermione company in the Medical Wing, Rose was sitting in the library at a table in a secluded corner. Most people were choosing to study in their dorms lately after the attacks and just the fact that she was Rose Potter would have everyone steering clear of her. 

She preferred it this way really.

It didn’t take long for Flint to join her. After the holidays he had brought back a few more books for her to look through much to her glee. She was not reading them at the moment though, instead she was working on her containment box. 

It was not an overly large item, just a bit bigger than the average book, when you opened it however it was about five inches deep. It was made of a plain but strong wood and carefully carved into the outer and inner edges were numerous runes. Rose ran her finger along each of them making sure their movements were smooth and precise.

Flint continued on with his own homework, not taking much mind of Rose. The majority of times they spent hanging out were in silence and the few times there wasn’t silence it was usually the older boy himself who did the talking. 

Pausing in her analysis of her creation, Rose glanced over at Flint.

“What is the Slytherin Hierarchy?”

His eyes darted up, unable to completely mask his surprise at her sudden question. This would now be the fourth time he heard her speak. The first was the evening of the standoff in the common room, the second was the day he confronted her about what she said that first time, and the third was when he told her about the brooms that Lucius Malfoy had bought for the Slytherin Quidditch team. He vaguely wondered when he’d squash the need to keep track of how many times she spoke to him— and why he felt the need to keep track in the first place. He tilted his head as he regarded her question, scanning her impassive expression.

“The Slytherin Hierarchy is, essentially, the chain of command for the Slytherin House.” Closing his books, he lifted his wand to cast privacy charms around them then turned to face her. “There’s the Head of the Hierarchy, the leader, the one who makes all the decisions. Below this person are their inner members— those they trust and who help them with instilling rules and guidelines. Then there’s the Outer members, those who are powerful but prefer to stay in their own lanes and focus on their own personal goals. There’s the base, which is the vast majority of the Slytherin House but mostly the younger years and those who haven’t made a name for themselves yet. Finally there’s the dregs, those at the bottom of the hierarchy.”

“The Muggleborns and Halfbloods,” Rose supplied quietly with an even voice.

Flint grimaced. “Not necessarily...” He pushed his hand through his hair somewhat restlessly. “Most of the time Muggleborns are at the bottom but there are exceptions. The same can be said for Halfbloods too.”

Narrowing her eyes, Rose considered her next question carefully. “How is the leader decided? Why not have the title of King? I thought Slytherins were an elitist bunch.”

She got a smirk of amusement at that but the topic grew serious once more. “It used to be called the Slytherin King but hasn’t been in the last fifty years.” Flint glanced off to the side absently and then looked to Rose once again, his words deliberately more intent. “The leader is decided by who has the most power. Most of the time it’s sixth or seventh-years who hold the head position, a fifth-year is considered young for the top spot. The only time there’s been someone younger than that holding the position was the last person who used the title Slytherin King. A second-year Halfblood who was believed to be a Muggleborn at the time he took the position.”

Rose raised her brows slightly. She could guess who exactly it was that held that spot, who would have enough power to abolish the title Slytherin King after he was done with it. She was faintly surprised that the man who was widely known for blood supremacy was a Halfblood.

Pursing her lips, Rose frowned at the table. “How exactly does the House go about deciding who has the most power?”

Flint sat back, resting one arm on the back of an empty chair next to him. “With a duel. Doesn’t happen too often, a lot of the time most people have a good idea of who would be next. More often than not it’s a younger inner member from the last head.” He dipped his head as he gazed off to the side, thinking back on the past heads he knew. “But anyone can challenge it if they think they deserve it. After that it’s a duel that’s watched by a few of the higher ups as witnesses and the winner takes the spot.”

“So, once an older year becomes Head of the Hierarchy they typically stay in the spot till they graduate.”

“Not always. The whole point of being the head is believing you are the best and backing up your claim. If a head meets someone who they believe is better than them then, if they’re smart, they’ll back down.”

Rose was slightly surprised at this. She wondered how often it would happen, she couldn’t really imagine any Slytherin types willingly stepping down from their top position without a fight.

“What about family members?” Rose asked slowly. “Can they sway things in favour of their kids?”

She was of course thinking of Draco Malfoy. The boy who threw his family name around like he knew it would get him what he wanted. Despite this fact, he clearly wasn’t too close with Flint or the ones surrounding him, it made her wonder how he was going to climb the ladder. Perhaps he would stick close with those a year older than him and beat down the ones younger than him into submission? It would be fairly easy pickings for him to take the head position after that.

“No.” Flint's voice rang out evenly, tapping his finger on the back of the chair his arm was resting on. “Even those outside of Hogwarts rely on the hierarchy. It lets them know how the futures of different families could turn out. As such they do not interfere with the standings.”

He sat forward, speaking intently once more, his eyes locked on Rose. “You see the one thing Slytherins value more so than anything else— the smart ones at least— is power. If someone clearly has it, then it doesn’t matter if they’re a Pureblood, Halfblood or even a Muggleborn.”

Rose stared at the older boy in silence for a long moment, taking in his piercing dark eyes, the determined jut of his jaw. “What do they do when they find someone like this?”

“They do what they can to stay on their good side.”

Shortly after the holidays Harry and Ron had come into the library where Rose and Hermione were studying and told them about a rather interesting discovery.

Or so they claimed.

Rose didn’t find anything interesting about an old-worn diary, but maybe she just didn’t understand Gryffindors and their innate sense of curiosity.

“Ooh, it might have hidden powers,” Hermione cried, taking the diary, and looking at it closely.

Rose pursed her lips to hide her amusement at the girl's enthusiasm. Harry and Ron had just explained how they heard Filch shouting and followed the sound of his voice— apparently ignoring all sense of reason— and found a flood of water coming out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. When the two went to investigate they were told by Myrtle that someone had thrown that very book through her and down into the toilet, apparently clogging it in the process. Why— remained a mystery.

“If it has, it’s hiding them very well,” Ron said in reply to Hermione’s exclamation. “Maybe it’s shy. I don’t know why you don’t chuck it, Harry.”

“I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it,” Harry said. “I wouldn’t mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either.”

Rose rolled her eyes at her brother’s typical curiosity. Ron had told them how he remembered cleaning an award with Riddle's name on it in the trophy room, apparently he was quite the hero.

“Could’ve been anything,” Ron said. “Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would’ve done everyone a favour…”

There was the sound of a muffled laugh and Harry and Ron glanced over at Rose who had a hand over her mouth. Ron beamed brightly, pleased to get a laugh out of his usually quiet and reserved friend. Harry’s gaze flickered to Hermione and he could tell from the arrested look on Hermione’s face that she was thinking what he had been thinking about the diary.

“What?” Ron said, sharing a look with Rose who was finally giving them her full attention, putting her book to the side.

“Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn’t it?” Harry reaffirmed. “That’s what Malfoy said.”

“Yeah…” Ron said slowly.

“And this diary is fifty years old,” Hermione said, tapping it excitedly.

Rose had a dawning expression on her face but Ron was still confused.

“So?”

“Oh, Ron, wake up,” Hermione snapped. “We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything— where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it— the person who’s behind the attacks this time wouldn’t want that lying around, would they?”

“That’s a brilliant theory, Hermione,” Ron snapped back, “with just one tiny little flaw. There’s nothing written in his diary.”

But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag.

“It might be invisible ink!” she whispered.

She tapped the diary three times and said, “Aparecium!”

Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.

“It’s a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley,” she said.

She rubbed hard on January first. Nothing happened.

Hermione frowned over at Rose. “Do you know any others?”

Rose sat forward, waving her wand over the book as well and, much to their disappointment, still nothing happened.

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing to find in there,” Ron stated. “Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn’t be bothered filling it in.”

Harry couldn’t explain, even to himself, why he didn’t just throw Riddle’s diary away. The fact was that even though he knew the diary was blank, he kept absentmindedly picking it up and turning the pages, as though it were a story he wanted to finish. And while Harry was sure he had never heard the name T. M. Riddle before, it still seemed to mean something to him, almost as though Riddle was a friend he’d had when he was very small and had half-forgotten. But this was absurd. He’d never had friends before Hogwarts, Dudley made sure of that.

Rose was currently holed up in her bedroom while her brother and their friends went off to the trophy room. Harry was desperate for more information on Riddle and thought maybe his award would give him some answers and she had the diary at the moment. Holding the small innocuous item in her hand, she spun it around, scanning all sides of it. Rose could understand her brother's intrigue. There was a faint something about it that had her gripping it just a bit tighter, like she found something that she had been missing for years without even realizing.

Turning her attention to her current project, Rose looked over at her containment box that was resting just in front of her on the bed. She was sitting with her legs crossed and with a flick of her wrist the box flew up into her open hand. She looked between the two items before putting the box down in front of her and opening it.

She wanted to test the diary inside the box. She knew it had to be magical, it gave off that feeling that most magical items seemed to emit. It was somewhat like the loud buzz that places with a lot of electricity flowing gave off, except instead of hearing the buzz you felt it in the air around you when you were close by.

Rose couldn’t help but wonder if Ron or Hermione noticed; she knew Harry had.

Placing the diary carefully inside the box Rose closed it slowly and placed her fingertip on the top corner of the box, dragging it down the side. She felt a slight prick but didn’t stop her movement until she reached the bottom.

It was an enchantment she had gotten from one of the books in the Restricted Section of the library. Supposedly it made it impossible for someone without the same blood to open whatever was sealed shut with it.

The fact that the man gave out permission slips to use the Restricted Section of the library like they were candies was the only bearable quality Lockhart had.

Rose’s eyes lit up as the faint buzz she could feel disappeared once the lid was firmly closed. She quickly reached for her wand and began to cast multiple detection spells, all of which came up empty. Laughing breathlessly with glee, Rose repeated the same motion with her finger on the edge of the box, pulling it open the instant she reached the bottom. She removed the diary, tossing it to the side without a second thought and lifted her containment box. As she looked over the runes again she felt the unmistakable feeling of pride for accomplishing her goal.

Almost instantly Rose’s mind began to think over the other project ideas she had. Perhaps she should practice more wandless magic for a while? Maybe she could create something else with runes? She should ask Flint for more books on new topics.

Thunk!

Harry jumped slightly as the diary was dropped unceremoniously onto the tabletop in front of him. He glanced up at his sister and even though her face was all together neutral he could see the humour gleaming in her eyes.

Looking back down, Harry asked. “Did you write in it or anything? Cast spells to find out what it is?” When she frowned and shook her head, Harry's face quickly mirrored his sister’s. “Why’d you take it then?”

Rose just gave a half-hearted shrug before heading off down one of the aisles in the library. Harry didn’t bother calling after her, he knew she likely wouldn’t answer him if he asked more questions. His frown only grew more pronounced as he stared at the diary for a long moment, contemplating what to do about it. Despite the lack of information from detection spells, and the lack of information inside the book, Harry still felt like the diary was important. He still felt like it would help solve the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets.

Suddenly Harry remembered something curious he noticed about the diary earlier today when he got tackled by the stupid Valentine's dwarf. (And Merlin, even thinking about what happened the other day had Harry cringing with embarrassment.) Harry never had the chance to further explore it though as Rose had claimed the diary as her own, summoning it out of Malfoy’s greasy hands and taking it with her for the day.

He took a quick look around. 

Harry was seated at the same table Rose would usually sit at, far in the corner of the library out of sight. There was no one in the library besides him and Rose, unsurprisingly. Pulling the diary closer to him he opened it up and snagged his quill from where he dropped it in surprise when Rose showed up. Dipping it in some ink he then lifted the quill over the open book and let one drop fall on its surface. Harry watched on eagerly as the ink seemed to be absorbed into the book. Dipping his quill into his ink bottle once again he excitedly wrote, “My name is Harry Potter.”

Rose was wandering through the aisles looking over the books absently. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to study next; Marcus had promised to give her more books on Ancient Runes, he just had to write home and get his parents to send them first. Regardless for the last few days she had been debating whether or not to find some other project to work on first.

She could always practice her wandless magic, Rose mused silently to herself, or continue on reading the fourth-year curriculum. To be honest she was a bit worried about reading too far ahead and then being bored in classes for the next few years. When Rose moved out of the aisle she was in she made a loop around the edge of a bookshelf with the intention of continuing her trek, only—

Adrian Pucey stood just at the end of the aisle, glaring at Rose while his hands subtly clenched and unclenched.

Rose wasn’t too worried about the boy. He was one of the higher up inner members of the hierarchy and as such wouldn’t go against Marcus, and Marcus had made it clear that they should leave her alone. Tilting her head, Rose lifted one brow in question as the boy made no move to speak. She had yet to have any actual conversations with any other Slytherin, although a few of them have been a lot more cautious since Marcus told them about the snake décor listening in on them.

Rightfully so, some of them had some pretty big secrets.

She’s been around Pucey and Higgs a few times, though neither really spoke to her and obviously she didn’t speak to them. The two seemed to be Marcus’ closest friends so Rose didn’t offer up any form of protest when they joined the older boy to study in the library.

Pucey was a fairly smart boy. He was on the Quidditch team but that seemed to be more of a hobby than anything else. As it were, Pucey was quite gifted at Arithmancy and rumour had it he already had an apprenticeship in place for after his graduation. The boy had short black hair that was always styled neatly with a few strands that had a tendency to fall in front of his eyes. His eyes were a piercing dark blue that looked almost black in his anger right now and he held the same aristocratic features most of the Purebloods had, his nose slim and petite and jawline strong.

“There’s no way you know anything of use,” Pucey finally spat, stepping closer to Rose while he spoke. “If you had anything you would have used it by now. Why wouldn’t you?”

Rose wasn’t sure if the boy was trying to convince her or himself about this. The only response that she did give in the end was a lift of both her brows and a small smirk.

Try me.

Pucey swallowed and the darkness in his eyes faded away as he took a slow step back. Rose could understand his hesitance; Purebloods hoarded secrets like dragons hoarded precious gems and jewels. Heading off to school, cut off from family members you can talk to about these very secrets, well it would be overwhelming for anyone, especially tiny eleven-year-olds.

It went without saying that most of the Slytherin House made good use of the House Floo Network, making Floo Calls back home often enough.

Scanning Rose’s face for any sense of falsity one more time, Pucey turned and left, not offering any parting words. Rose couldn’t help the small huff of amusement that left her. That was rather anticlimactic.

Glancing around at the books surrounding her, Rose shook her head in decision. She’d wait for Marcus to give her his old books, nothing here seemed to pop out at her at the moment. Walking leisurely down the aisle, Rose let her fingertips trail along the edge of the bookshelf. Merlin, she wished she never had to be separated from this place; separated from the knowledge this world held.

Thinking over the money she and her brother had, Rose made a decision to build, or buy, a house with a library.

Obviously they wouldn’t have enough with what’s in the vaults they got their school money from but according to the goblins at Gringotts, the Potter family had a family vault with far more inside of it. The vault they had access to now was their joint-heir vault and when they turned seventeen they would gain access to the main vault.

Apparently there were also quite a few families that died out that left the Twins-Who-Lived their remaining wealth in gratitude for their heroics.

Stupid of them to do but Rose wouldn’t complain.

Rose had made sure to ask all this the first day Hagrid took them to Diagon Alley, as well as who had access to their vaults. She was told that the key Hagrid used had come from Albus Dumbledore, who was their Magical Guardian and was able to access their vault keys. When Rose asked if their vault could be made so no one but them had access to it, the Goblin she had spoken to at the time viciously agreed.

Magical Guardian or not, Albus Dumbledore could not just give out their key like it did not matter. Sure, he may trust Hagrid, but the man had been a complete stranger to Harry and Rose,and the more she got to know him the clearer it became that, while he meant well, Hagrid could not keep a secret to save his life.

Dumbledore was not a man Rose was at all impressed by, his severe lack of impact on their lives (or perhaps too much impact) one of the main reasons.

Rose shook her head, not wanting to waste time dwelling on her current line of thought. Instead she made her way back over towards the table she left Harry at and when she approached, she saw her brother hunched over the diary. As she reached him, she went to poke his shoulder—

Harry sat back abruptly, heaving in a deep breath and narrowly avoiding falling out of his chair. He was sweating and shaking, trying to catch his breath. The book was still in front of him, and he looked up sharply at his sister’s concerned face.

“It was Hagrid, Ro’. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago.”

A few weeks ago, during Easter Holidays, the second years were given something to think about. Coming up on their third year they were told to choose at least two electives they would like to take alongside their regular courses. Rose was already familiar with this after a talk with Marcus back in first year.

Hermione took the decision very seriously.

“… it could affect our whole future,” she told Harry and Ron as they poured over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.

“I just want to give up Potions,” Harry said.

“We can’t,” Ron informed him gloomily. “We keep all our old subjects, or I’d’ve ditched Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“But that’s very important!” Hermione said, shocked.

Rose gave a snort and waved her hand through the air.

“Exactly,” Ron said. “Look at Lockhart. The only thing we learned from him was to not set pixies loose.”

The girl frowned at Ron then Rose. “I’m sorry, but how does this—” She waved her hand through the air like Rose just had. “—mean pixies?”

Harry held back a smile as he asked in a serious voice. “How does it not?”

Rose and Ron snickered at Harry’s question while Hermione huffed and went back to looking over the lists. The poor girl had yet to pick up Rose’s unique way of speaking but at least the boys were around to translate. Hermione, in the end, had chosen to sign up for everything, not able to pick and choose between the lot. Ron had chosen Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. Harry was unsure of what to pick and wound up choosing the same ones as Ron.

“What are you gonna pick, Ro’?” Harry asked his sister quietly as he leaned over to look at her sign-up sheet.

Rose shoved her sheet towards Harry and snagged his for herself.

“Study of Ancient Runes,— no surprise there—Arithmancy, and Care of Magical Creatures.” Harry murmured quietly to himself as he looked through his sister’s choices. As he glanced over at Rose he saw her checking off another box on his sheet.

“What are you doing?”

She looked over at Harry. “You should at least choose three,” Rose told him. “That way you have the option to drop a course you don’t like rather than be stuck with your only options for the next five years.”

Well, she had a point there.

Grabbing his paper back, Harry checked to see what Rose had picked for him.

“Arithmancy?” Harry read, aghast.

“Yes.”

Harry stared wide eyed at his sister. “The course sounds really hard Ro’; I don’t think I can do that.”

He got a reassuring smile in return. “Sure, you can. I’ve looked into the subject, it’s a bit like Muggle math. You were always good at that when we went to school.”

Harry couldn’t deny the sense of pride he felt when Rose said this. He was well aware that his sister was incredibly clever and not one for empty compliments, so whenever she praised him, he knew she really meant it.

Finally with a slow nod, Harry hesitantly agreed. “Alright then. But if I have trouble you have to help me.” He laughed as Rose shot him a look that could only be translated to ‘duh’.

It was only days after this conversation that things took a turn.

Things had been getting very grim so far that year. Rose had spent most of her time desperately trying to avoid all of the drama and mystery and have a fairly well-rounded year but as of now that was out the window.

Hermione had been petrified.

The four of them had been in the hall before Harry’s Quidditch game, discussing the fact that someone stole the diary, when Harry and Rose heard the voice again. With the time limit of the game Harry, in the end, had to rush for his broom, while Hermione rushed off with some new idea—Merlin, why didn’t she tell them first?— and Rose and Ron made their way to the Quidditch pitch. The game had been called to an end before it even started and Harry, Rose, and Ron had been led to the Medical Wing by a stressed looking Professor McGonagall.

Hermione had looked... unsettling. Her entire body frozen solid with a small mirror clasped in her hand.

Rose was going to get to the bottom of it. She knew the diary had to have something to do with this mess (Merlin be damned she was going to get answers from it one way or another) and she, Harry, and Ron had wound up following a trail of spiders into the Forbidden Forest.

After Harry had made his proclamation about Hagrid being the one to open the Chamber of Secrets, he and Ron had snuck out to confront the man about it. In the end they had to hide under their Invisibility Cloak while the Minister of Magic and Dumbledore showed up, the former of which saying they were taking Hagrid to Azkaban— the wizarding prison.

To make things worse, not long after that Lucius Malfoy showed up to inform Dumbledore that the Board of Governors decided that he was not fit to be Headmaster and to tell him to leave the premises.

Honestly, Harry and Rose were certain that most adults were beyond stupid.

Hagrid and Dumbledore had both offered parting words, the latter of which letting the two boys know he was aware of their presence. It was Hagrid's that was the most confusing though; his last words had been to follow the spiders. The boys, Rose, and Hagrid’s dog Fang, had wound up following his instructions and were led deep into the forest to a nest of spiders the size of horses.

Poor Ron was a right mess.

It turned out the oldest spider, Aragog, had belonged to Hagrid when he was young. He informed the kids that he was not the monster from the Chamber but that he feared it as well. He never once attacked a student out of respect for Hagrid. He then stated his gratitude to the man for finding him a wife and looking out for him and his children.

Apparently this gratefulness wasn’t enough to stop him from letting his children try to eat the three of them but, as luck would have it, the Weasley family car had shown up in the nick of time. Harry had ushered Fang inside while Rose dragged a nearly petrified Ron after them.

Ron had been fed up with the whole journey and was cursing Hagrid for sending them there.

Harry was the one to pick up on the fact that the girl who died had done so in the bathroom and that maybe she was still there. Rose and Ron had looked at him with wide eyes while Ron had said what they were all thinking.

Moaning Myrtle.

They had yet to get the chance to go see Myrtle; since Hermione and Penelope Clearwater's petrification the school staff had cracked down on them. The students were unable to go anywhere without a professor present. It was beyond annoying and made studying in the library impossible.

So Rose was studying in the Slytherin common room in front of the main fireplace. Sitting with her was Marcus and Pucey, the latter of whom had started hovering around more often than not. There weren’t many people in the common room at the moment; the vast majority of Slytherins were afraid now too ever since a Pureblood had been petrified.

Rose couldn’t wrap her brain around the ingrained hatred most Purebloods seemed to have for Muggleborns. Ever since entering the wizarding world it had been painfully obvious and while it was not all Purebloods, there was no denying that Muggleborns had less opportunities than Purebloods and Halfbloods.

She had some ideas about the stigma but nothing fully confirmed.

Glancing over at where Marcus was seated in a tall-backed chair, Rose pursed her lips in consideration. She knew if she asked Marcus would answer and would do so in depth, he’d also answer any other questions she might have for him, but Rose was debating if she should get into this with him now, especially with Pucey here; she had no desire to listen to degrading comments against Muggleborns.

Throwing caution to the wind for a change, Rose asked. “Why do certain Pureblood families hate Muggleborns?”

Marcus glanced up at Rose while Pucey froze all together. This was the younger boy’s first time ever hearing Rose speak and it seemed he had been thinking maybe she couldn’t speak at all. Closing his book, Marcus eyed Rose for a moment. It was a loaded question and he would give her his full attention, she deserved that much.

“Some just hate what is different,” Marcus admitted quietly. “They hate anything that is not exactly like them. Others— Others hate their attitudes.”

Rose raised a brow in question at that.

Pucey sat forward suddenly, his jaw clenched and eyes fierce. “They’re entitled. They think what they want, they should get, without even trying to change!”

Marcus glared at Pucey in reprimand and when the boy sat back in his seat, he turned to Rose. “You’ve got to understand that there are so many things about wizarding culture that have been changed to make Muggleborns more comfortable. Old magic that’s been banned because they were scared of the idea of it.

“There’s also our everyday life. Muggleborns make no effort to learn the customs of the wizarding world, they come in and expect us to change for them but don’t even try to do the same. Look at Yule, which, because of Muggleborns, is now referred to as Christmas. Samhain— Halloween. All of our customs are slowly being killed by them and they expect us not to be upset?”

Rose frowned at that. She could understand the anger, the last thing she would want is someone coming into the world she spent her whole life living in and suddenly changing things to suit their needs. But still, looking from the Muggleborn perspective—

“Where are the books that teach these things?” She got looks of incomprehension in reply to her question. “I’ve been in the wizarding world for two years now and scoured the vast majority of the books in the stores in Diagon Alley and this school. Where are the books that teach one about wizarding customs?”

The two boys exchanged a glance before the older of the two spoke up slowly. “Most Pureblood families have these books at hand...”

Now she smiled, entirely unamused. “Hating someone for not learning the information that they have no access to, that sounds reasonable.” Before either one could comment she asked another question. “Why isn’t there an introductory course for Muggleborns and Muggle-raised Halfbloods? They have a Muggle studies class but no class to indoctrinate these children into the world that they would spend the next seven years— more than likely more— being a part of?”

“There used to be one,” Pucey said quietly, frowning at Rose in thought.

Marcus was quick to elaborate. “When Dumbledore became headmaster he got rid of the class, as well as a few other ones.”

Dumbledore. Why the man who was supposedly great and all-knowing would think it was a bright idea to abolish a class that helped children was beyond Rose.

“Dumbledore favours the Muggleborns,” Pucey seemed unable to not throw in. “He thinks Purebloods should bend over backwards to accommodate them.”

Rose eyed Pucey for a moment, taking in the boy's bitter words. “It’s hardly the Muggleborns fault that the man wants to withhold information from them.” Pucey pulled a face at that but didn’t offer any outward disagreement.

Marcus put his book down on the table in between them and sat forward, his elbows resting along his legs. “When it comes down to it little by little Purebloods have had to watch their customs slowly disappear but since Dumbledore got rid of Grindelwald it has happened at a more rapid pace. We fight against it, even some Neutral and Light orientated families who don’t agree with the banishment of certain magics, but there’s little we can do.” Clasping his hands together, Marcus stared down at them for a while and when he spoke again, he did not look up. “The fact is, Dumbledore is seen as a holy grail since he saved the wizarding world and it's not particularly wise for anyone to be seen disagreeing with him.”

Rose had to admit Dumbledore's hold on the magical community did seem vast. She faintly remembered Hermione saying she wanted to be a Gryffindor because Dumbledore himself had been one. She could picture it— Picture all these young children who were introduced into a new world and learning about Dumbledore, a man who got rid of a villain who was seeking to hurt them all. It was a bit like a storybook.

Harry would’ve loved it; she knew that much. It was only his past horrible relationships with adults that would have him hesitating, but even then, she could see her brother being pulled into it.

Rose thought back to Dumbledore's words to them in the hospital after they stopped Quirrell, and by extension— Voldemort. She thought about them a lot but there was one part that came to mind now. Dumbledore had told them that Voldemort would eventually rise again, that it would take someone who was truly prepared to fight to delay his return. She thought about Ron’s question after Dumbledore was gone and they told him and Hermione what the man had said.

“D’you think he meant for you guys to do it? Sending you your father’s cloak and everything?”

Rose wasn’t sure what Dumbledore had in store for Harry and her but she would be damned if she just stood back and let it happen. Dumbledore may have a golden reputation due to his acts against a Dark Lord but so did Harry and Rose. When the time came Rose would use that very reputation for her and her brother's advantage; she’d do whatever it took to save them both. There was no way she was fighting in this war that seemed to be coming and hell would freeze over before she let Harry fight too.

“I want the books,” Rose told Marcus, who glanced up when she spoke. “The books on the customs of the wizarding world as well as ones on wizarding law.”

Marcus stared at Rose. He took in her determined expression, her green eyes that at times he swore would glow the same colour as the Killing Curse and the scars that lay across her neck for the world to see, proof that she had already done the impossible.

He nodded once.

“Do you think it’s true?”

Marcus glanced to his left to look at Adrian, Terrence standing on his right eyeing the people around them getting in line to board the Hogwarts Express. It was fairly crowded, masses of students bunched together while the school’s Grounds Keeper kept them moving along. When he saw that Adrian wasn’t looking at him, Marcus followed the boy's gaze across the train station to where Rose Potter stood with her brother and the two other Gryffindors that always accompanied them— the Muggleborn now unpetrified alongside all the others.

“Do I think what’s true?” Marcus asked in reply, smiling faintly when Terrence snorted in amusement. He watched as Potter’s brother spoke happily to his sister and friends, a grin on his face as he likely caught the Muggleborn up on what she missed.

He could not remember her name for the life of him which was mildly annoying at the moment.

Marcus had times where he wondered how close the Potters really were— likely everyone did considering the Houses they were Sorted into. It hadn’t taken him long to see that Harry Potter adored his sister and had been quick to defend her if anyone had a word to say about her Sorting. The boy was still growing into his Gryffindorness, at times seeming meek and not wanting to draw attention to himself. The times his boldness came out the most was usually in defense of someone else— his sister mainly.

He felt more and more certain— as time went on— that when the Potter twins grew up they’d be a deadly combination. Twins almost always were, having a bond like no other. It showed with the Carrow twins, the Prewetts, even the Weasley twins— the latter of which were more interested in putting their strengths into creation rather than violence.

The difference between them all is that the Potters were the only set mentioned that were Sorted into separate Houses, and one would think that it would divide them but that was so far from the truth. Marcus thought it made them more well-rounded. Rose Potter was clearly the long-term planner of the two, gathering information and secrets that could— and likely would— eventually be used, while Harry Potter was the act-now of the two, piecing things together in the moment and honing the ability to react appropriately in a quick manner.

They’d miss things on their own, both set in their way of thinking, but together... together they had the whole puzzle in sight, all they needed to do was complete it.

“What they’re saying they did.” Adrian’s voice cut into his contemplative thoughts and Marcus dragged his eyes away from the four second-years.

Of course he knew what Adrian was talking about, the rumours were running rampant. The word was Ginny Weasley had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets, Harry and Rose Potter, along with Ron Weasley, had found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and went to save her. It was said that they fought Slytherin’s beast— not only fought it but killed it.

A beyond impressive feat considering— as those who were petrified shakingly informed everyone— the beast was a snake taller than a first year and who-knew how long.

They all saw the Potters at Dumbledore’s ‘late night celebration meal’. The two of them had been covered in blood, their robes, while not dripping, were clearly damp. It was about as ruffled as anyone had ever seen the Slytherin Potter— Merlin knew the Gryffindor Potter had already made a mess of himself during some spring Quidditch matches, an unavoidable thing when playing the sport.

“Yeah,” Marcus finally answered. “I think it’s true.”

Adrian looked at him, his brows furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together. Marcus understood his conflict; at the start of the year Adrian had thought of Potter as nothing more than a small blip on Slytherin’s radar, even with her reputation. Then it came out that her brother was a Parselmouth— and Marcus all but confirmed she was one too— then the bomb was dropped about the snakes listening to their secrets and telling Potter.

Perhaps he had been clinging to a small hope that Potter wouldn’t be a problem— so what if she spoke Parseltongue? So what if she knew their secrets since last year? If she was going to use them, surely she would have by now. (He himself had thought something similar after he realised she had been telling the truth.)

Marcus was sure that he’d been relying on Potter not really having the power to back up the other stuff. Hoping that she clung to the secrets she might know to use as a shield, all defense no offense. But then came this. It didn’t take genius to work out that the snake that had petrified everyone had been a basilisk, a legendary beast in the magical world, one that had been alive since Salazar Slytherin himself.

And two second-years killed it.

That didn’t come from sheer luck, no matter who had anything to say on the contrary. The two of them surviving the Killing Curse, maybe it was a fluke, the two of them supposedly saving the Philosopher's Stone, maybe a right-place-at-the-right-time moment. There came a point though when you had to accept that someone continuously surviving situations that should have killed them was more about skill, power, and quick thinking rather than just pure based luck.

Adrian was having that moment right now.

Terrence himself had long since accepted Potter's clear future in Slytherin, had spoken to Marcus about it with no distaste, more a faint sense of curiosity than anything else. Marcus knew his friend well and he always had a good eye for future power houses and had even cautioned Marcus about putting Potter in her place last year. Long before they even got to Hogwarts, back when they met at Pureblood soirees their parents dragged them to, he had made sure to glue himself to Marcus’s side.

Marcus wasn’t going to complain, Terrence was the best friend he had.

Adrian was a good add on to their group, and while he was better friends with Graham Montague, he was still a great person to have around once you got to know him. But he had his moments of denial; Adrian was one of the Purebloods who didn’t truly like change, one who— had Potter not been in Slytherin and Marcus did not make an express rule to the two of them not to do anything antagonizing towards her or those closest to her— likely would have joined Malfoy in calling the Muggleborn Gryffindor a Mudblood.

This was his moment of realisation, where he finally saw what Marcus had known since the day Potter whispered in his ear. Finally saw what Terrence seemed to sense from the day Potter strolled into the House of snakes. He played it cool and calm for the sake of things— but this was the moment where he’d fall in line, just like Marcus and Terrence were doing, or cut ties and become an Outer member.

Marcus looked back at the Hogwarts Express, smoke puffing out of its tops as the engine idled, its cherry red paint gleaming in the morning sun. Potter was about to board the train, climbing up the steps behind her brother and when she glanced back— perhaps wanting one last look at this place before the summer— her eyes caught his own.

He wasn’t sure what the girl saw when she looked at him. If he was just a useful source of information or an enemy she was keeping a close eye on— he’d change that opinion, with time at least. Marcus had no grand plan to backstab her or anything like that, it was like how he told her that day in the library, the day they discussed the Slytherin Hierarchy. He accepted his place and he’d make sure that he would have a good standing with her.

Maybe it would benefit him in the future, maybe not, but he’d bet a lot of Galleons that Potter was going to be worth the gamble.

He met her gaze evenly, shoulders back, head straight, and felt the slightest bit of tension leave his chest as she smirked faintly before turning away, heading after her brother and her friends.

Marcus couldn’t wait for next year. 

The end of Harry and Rose’s second year was... something.

Not long after Rose’s talk with Marcus and Pucey, she, her brother and Ron had gone to visit Hermione and it was there that they discovered what monster lay inside the Chamber of Secrets.

A basilisk.

A ginormous snake that could kill you with just a look and whose poison would kill you within seconds. Ron had astutely pieced together that all the petrification victims had only even seen reflections of the snake— and Merlin did Rose marvel at the boy's occasional bits of tenacity. They also realized that the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets had to be in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

The three of them had gone to go tell the nearest adult only for an announcement to be made telling all students to get to bed. Given the delicate nature of their information they had gone to the staff lounge instead and wound up hiding in the closet to avoid detection and overheard what had happened.

Ginny Weasley had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets.

What followed was a blur of events, one of which was proving the fact that Gilderoy Lockhart was a no-good fraud and a coward. After forcing the man to accompany them down into the Chamber, much to his obvious displeasure, they reached the bottom only for the man to steal Ron’s wand.

The stroke of luck they had there was that Ron’s wand was broken so the man's plan to Obliviate them backfired grandly. In a stroke of bad luck, Harry and Rose wound up trapped further in the Chamber while Ron was stuck with Lockhart on the other side.

While Ron made work on digging an opening for them to come back through, Harry and Rose ventured further.

Finding Ginny was stomach dropping, her small body lying still on the ground. Neither knew Ginny all too well, what with the girl's speechless attitude around them, but she was a good person. A Weasley. While they tried to wake her up they were snuck up on and disarmed by none other than Tom Riddle.

Rose hadn’t known who the boy was at first. Taking in his tall stature, carefully styled hair, pale skin and dark brown eyes. He stood sure of himself, like someone who had no doubts of their worth. Harry recognized him instantly from his journey in the diary and was quick to question him. The boy spent a long while explaining the past years events to the twins, asking questions about them as well. He seemed oddly obsessed with Voldemort and their supposed defeat of the Dark Lord.

When he revealed who he truly was, through an anagram no less, Rose knew they were screwed. After that the (Ghost? Spirit? Memory?) boy had summoned the basilisk and Harry and Rose fought for their lives.

It was not much of a fight, what with neither of them having wands and having to keep their eyes closed, but they tried. When things had been feeling beyond hopeless Dumbledore's pet phoenix Fawkes had shown up along with the Sorting Hat.

Fawkes had made quick work with the Basilisk’s eyes and Harry had quickly looked to the Sorting Hat for answers. Its answer was a glittering sword that nearly knocked Harry unconscious with the way it dropped out of the hat.

After that it became a battle to survive. Both twins running and attempting to find some sort of upper hand. There came a point where Harry had fallen, the sword gone scattering away and Rose had sent a wandless stinging hex to set the snake's attention on her, the beast swinging its tail and sending her flying into a nearby wall. The act had given Harry the space he needed to grab the sword once more and he called out to the snake, making it turn from where it had last heard Rose, once it faced him Harry jabbed and lunged with the sword.

What happened after that almost froze Rose to the core. Harry lunged and his aim struck true, piercing the snake through the roof of its mouth to its brain. But in his efforts Harry wound up with a large, deadly-looking fang plunged into his arm.

She could only continue breathing again when Dumbledore's phoenix flew down beside her brother and began crying.

All that had been left was to get rid of the diary, Tom Riddle disappearing alongside it with a scream and harsh light that had Harry and Rose clenching their eyes shut from opposite sides of the room. The two then ran to Ginny who had begun to wake up, crying as soon as she saw the two of them, and the trio made their way out of the Chamber of Secrets.

Fawkes had given all of them (Lockhart and Ron included) a ride back up the plunging slide they came down and led them through the halls of Hogwarts.

They had wound up in Professor McGonagall’s office where she, Dumbledore, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waiting, the latter of two in tears. To say they were relieved to see Ginny would be a vast understatement.

As they explained the event of the year, and Ginny guiltily came forward about her experience with the diary, the adults all listened carefully. Dumbledore sent Ginny and the Weasley parents to the Medical Wing, with no punishment for Ginny and Professor McGonagall leading the way, and informed them all that the petrified students should be waking soon.

Dumbledore told Harry, Rose, and Ron that they would receive Special Awards for Service to the School as well as two hundred points apiece to each of their Houses. Rose couldn’t help but wonder if he was at all annoyed with having to give Slytherin so many points.

Immediately after that, Lockhart’s lack of memories came out. Dumbledore then asked Ron to escort the man to the Medical Wing as he had a word with Harry and Rose.

The man started off by saying how they must’ve shown him great loyalty to call Fawkes to them. It took Rose everything in her not to snort derisively at that. The conversation turned to Voldemort after that, with Harry asking why he could speak Parseltongue. He made no mention of Rose being able to speak it as well. Dumbledore had looked between the two of them, clearly wondering if Rose had the same gift as her brother, before he told Harry that he could speak it because Voldemort could. He explained how he believed that the night Voldemort tried to kill them he inadvertently transferred some of his powers to them.

This had Rose narrowing her eyes. She hadn’t read anything like that happening before.

Dumbledore then commented on Harry’s Gryffindor heart, showing him an engraving on the sword he had gotten from the Sorting Hat. He told him how only a true Gryffindor could have summoned it. Harry had been in slight awe at the engraving of Godric Gryffindor's name on the sword, but he made no reaction to Dumbledore’s comment on his Gryffindorness, nor did he tell the man about the Sorting Hat considering Slytherin for him.

Dumbledore had then crossed to McGonagall’s desk to write a letter to get Hagrid back and suggested the twins head on down to the feast.

If Rose hadn’t had any doubt about Dumbledore’s lack of regard for her and her brother's well-being, she would have then and there. The fact that he was sending them off to a celebratory feast— when both of them were covered with blood— instead of the Medical Wing was very telling.

Before the twins could leave Lucius Malfoy had stormed in and behind him, cowering, was Dobby. It didn’t take the twins long to realise that Lucius Malfoy had been the one to give Ginny the diary. Harry even stated as much to the man.

His only response had been to prove it.

After that was a rather nice ending to things. Harry and Rose had followed the man out and Harry slyly tricked him into setting Dobby free. When it looked as though the man would attack them for doing such a thing Dobby beat him to the punch.

Harry had then told Dobby to never try to save them again if he wanted to repay them.

Hermione had joined them at the feast and wasn’t that an amazing sight. Rose had to wait till they boarded the train to see her properly as the feast had already started, during which Hagrid had made his return, much to the enthusiasm of most of the school.

Now they were back on the Hogwarts Express and heading back to Privet Drive.

Harry grabbed Rose’s hand from where she was sitting beside him, squeezing it in camaraderie. This was always the part that had them feeling sad, the idea of going back to their Muggle relatives.

Harry, Rose, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny got a compartment to themselves. They made the most of the last few hours in which they were allowed to do magic before the holidays. They played Exploding Snap, set off the very last of Fred and George’s Filibuster fireworks, and practiced disarming each other by magic. Harry was getting very good at it.

They were almost at King’s Cross when Harry remembered something.

“Ginny— what did you see Percy doing, that he didn’t want you to tell anyone?”

“Oh, that,” Ginny giggled. “Well— Percy’s got a girlfriend.” Fred dropped a stack of books on George’s head.

“What?”

“It’s that Ravenclaw Prefect, Penelope Clearwater,” Ginny said. “That’s who he was writing to all last summer. He’s been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was—you know— attacked. You won’t tease him, will you?” she added anxiously.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Fred said, who was looking like his birthday had come early.

“Definitely not,” George chimed in, snickering.

The Hogwarts Express slowed and finally stopped. Harry pulled out his quill and a bit of parchment and turned to Ron and Hermione. “This is called a telephone number,” he told Ron, scribbling it twice, tearing the parchment in two, and handing it to them. “I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer— he’ll know. Call me at the Dursleys’, okay? I can’t stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to…”

Rose smacked his arm at that.

“You know what I mean,” Harry said with a light laugh.

Rose narrowed her eyes but didn’t offer any other protest. Honestly, she wasn’t sure giving out the Dursley’s number was the best idea but if it helped her brother feel less isolated, she wasn’t going to complain.

“Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won’t they?” Hermione said as they got off the train and joined the crowd thronging toward the enchanted barrier. “When they hear what you did this year?”

Rose snorted at that.

“Proud?” Harry said. “Are you crazy? All those times we could’ve died, and we didn’t manage it? They’ll be furious…”

Chapter Text

The summer before their third year hadn’t started off too bad; it was by no means fun, but the twins have had worse. That was until Ron finally decided to use the phone number Harry had given him and it quickly became apparent that the boy had no clue how to use a phone.

He had shouted into the phone from his end, nearly tearing through their uncle's eardrum, asking to talk to Harry and Rose and saying he was a friend from school.

Uncle Vernon was furious at them for giving out their normal family's phone number to a bunch of ‘freaks’.

To make matters worse Aunt Marge was coming to stay with them. Neither Harry nor Rose actually shared any blood with the woman, thank Merlin, but the two had been forced to call her their aunt all their lives. Marge was Vernon’s sister and she was as horrid as her brother was. She looked a lot like him too, with a big hulking mass and a matching moustache.

She would always visit from time to time, bringing her annoying dogs with her, and when she arrived Dudley would stand still long enough to accept her cheek pinching and then eagerly take the twenty-pound bill she’d slip into his hand. She would then look over Harry and Rose and ask, “you two are still here?”

Every. Time.

Safe to say that neither Harry nor Rose were happy to see the woman and Uncle Vernon had made sure to get in their faces about keeping their mouths shut and being polite.

“We will if she is,” Harry retorted darkly.

Marge didn’t know about the magical world and they had no doubt Uncle Vernon wanted to keep it that way. So, the evening before she arrived, Harry and Rose’s stuff were packed away and locked up in their old cupboard; Hedwig’s cage included. Harry had sent Hedwig off to see Hermione as they wouldn’t be able to use her with Marge around.

It was a small sacrifice in order to get what they wanted out of their uncle.

Harry and Rose had received a letter shortly before Uncle Vernon announced Marge’s impending visit. It had been from Professor McGonagall telling them that as third-years they’d be able to visit the nearby village Hogsmeade on certain weekends as long as they got written permission. So, Harry and Rose would play nice.

For a few days.

Some good news from this summer: Ron and his family had won a fair chunk of money in the lottery earlier this summer (Ron even sent them the headline of it from the newspaper) and the entire Weasley clan went to Egypt to visit Ron’s oldest brother Bill. Ron had said it was great fun and Fred and George had apparently tried to shut Percy in one of the pyramids.

Harry was a lot happier this summer than he was during their last one; mainly due to their friends sending them letters. Though Ron couldn’t send as many as his family owl would have a hard time making the trip— the Weasley have had him for quite some time, and he was getting very old.

Still, even letters from friends didn’t stop the dread that came with Marge’s visit, especially considering they wouldn’t get anymore for as long as she was here.

It was a long visit and Marge was as pleasant as ever— which was not at all. She was under the impression that Harry and Rose were attending an awful boarding school, asking them if they were being beaten.

“Yes,” Harry had said after seeing Uncle Vernon's nod. Sensing he should do this properly he added. “All the time.”

Still Marge was not impressed and she continued to be unimpressed for the majority of her visit.

Then at last, at long last, the final evening of Marge’s stay arrived. Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Harry or Rose’s faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them all with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

Obviously that was where things went South fast.

At that point Marge had already had a rather large amount of wine, her huge face red. So, when Uncle Vernon offered her a bit she agreed and proceeded to urge her brother to fill her glass to the brim.

Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie and Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Harry really wished that they’d just let him and Rose disappear into their bedroom but he met Uncle Vernon’s angry little eyes and knew that wouldn’t happen.

“Aah,” Marge sighed obnoxiously, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. “Excellent nosh, Petunia. It’s normally just a fry-up for me in the evening, with twelve dogs to look after…” She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. “Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized child,” she went on, winking at Dudley. “You’ll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I’ll have a spot more brandy, Vernon …”

“Now, these ones here—”

She jerked her head at the twins and Harry felt his stomach clench. He quickly turned back to his way of coping this past week, thinking about the Handbook of Do-It Yourself Broomcare.

“They both got a mean, runty look about them. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred.”

Merlin, how was Rose just listening to this? Harry was trying to remember page twelve of his book: A Charm to Cure Reluctant Reversers.

“It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will come out. Now, I’m saying nothing against your family, Petunia—” she patted Aunt Petunia’s bony hand with her shovel-like one, “—but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here’s the result right in front of us.”

Harry was staring at his plate, a funny ringing in his ears. He felt Rose grab his hand from under the table and squeezed tightly. Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, he thought. But he couldn’t remember what came next. Marge’s voice seemed to be boring into him like one of Uncle Vernon’s drills.

“This Potter,” Marge said loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, “you never told me what he did?”

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

“He– didn’t work,” Uncle Vernon grunted, with half a glance at Harry and Rose.

“Unemployed.”

“As I expected!” Marge said, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. “A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who–”

“He was not,” Harry said suddenly. The table went very quiet. Harry was shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life.

“More brandy!” Uncle Vernon yelled, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Marge’s glass. “You, boy,” he snarled at Harry. “Go to bed, both of you, go on—”

“No, Vernon,” Marge hiccoughed, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry’s. “Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect)–-”

“They didn’t die in a car crash!” Harry snarled, ripping his hand out of Rose’s and standing.

“They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!” Marge screamed, swelling with fury. “You are an insolent, ungrateful little—”

But Marge suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger— but the swelling didn’t stop. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech. The next second, several buttons burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls— she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami…

Rose backed away from the table, moving just behind Harry while her brother watched Marge with narrowed eyes and clenched fists.

“Marge!” Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia yelled together, as Aunt Marge’s whole body began to rise off her chair towards the ceiling. She was entirely round now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises.

Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly.

Uncle Vernon glared over at Harry. “Turn her back—” He started furiously, taking a hulking step over towards the boy in question, his hands raised.

Rose quickly stepped forward, standing in front of her brother who still had his eyes on the ever-growing Marge. That hardly stopped Uncle Vernon who reached out and closed his hands tightly around her throat.

“Turn her back! Turn her back!” Uncle Vernon snarled furiously, clenching his hand shut.

Rose gasped for a few seconds then lifted her hands, grasping her uncle’s wrists tightly. With a surge she felt bursting through her hands Uncle Vernon went flying backwards, hitting the countertop that separated the dining room and kitchen with a loud crack.

As Aunt Petunia ran to her husband and Dudley attempted to pull Marge down, Rose fell to the ground, her vision phasing in and out for a second.

Harry finally pulled himself out of his pure rage long enough to rush towards his sister. He quickly grabbed hold of her and pulled her to a stand. Rose grabbed hold of Harry's side as she attempted to gather her bearings and she let Harry haul her towards the doorway, knowing exactly where her brother was headed.

As they got closer the cupboard door burst magically open and in seconds, Harry heaved his and Rose’s trunk to the front door, his sister clutching Hedwig’s cage and standing beside him. He sprinted upstairs and threw himself under the bed, wrenched up the loose floorboard and grabbed the pillowcase full of his and Rose’s books and birthday presents. He wriggled out and dashed back downstairs to his trunk, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, stomping over towards Rose.

“Come back in here!” he bellowed. “Come back and put her right!”

But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. “She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast as Rose took out her wand as well. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from us.” His sister waved her hand over their trunks and quickly shrunk them while Harry fumbled behind him for the door.

“We’re going,” Harry said as Rose stowed their trunks in her pockets and he grabbed Hedwig’s cage. “We’ve had enough.”

The next moment they were out in the dark and quiet street, Hedwig’s cage under Harry’s arm and wands in their hands.

As luck would have it that night, Rose knew of a magical mode of transportation called the Knight Bus.

Harry’s said it before, and he’d say it again; what would he do without his sister?

The Knight Bus was a very fast and— the twins were pretty sure— a very dangerous way of getting around. It was run by a man named Ernie and a pimply boy named Stan. They were quite the characters, although Stan was the most memorable. Harry and Rose boarded, giving fake names when prompted (Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger), and had a rather interesting conversation.

Apparently a man that the twins had seen on the Muggle news a few days prior was actually a wizard. Sirius Black. Stan told them how he escaped Azkaban, something no one has done before, and how he was supposedly Voldemort’s right hand man. Harry and Rose had exchanged a glance as they were told of the man's crime, murdering thirteen people with one spell, and how when he was caught, he laughed. Stan said that he heard Black laughed all the way to Azkaban.

Didn’t he sound pleasant?

The Knight Bus had taken them to Diagon Alley, well the Leaky Cauldron to be exact, and when they got there, waiting for them, was the Minister of Magic. Cornelius Fudge.

Honestly, their luck was made of extremes, it was either a lifesaving thing or a life ending thing.

The man had greeted them cheerfully. He told them how they were in quite a worry about where the two of them had run off to and how two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Marge had been put right and her memories were modified. The twins were speechless at the blasé tone that Fudge was speaking in, as if this was something he did every day.

Fudge, thinking they were worried about their relative's reaction, said that they’d take them back next summer so long as they stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas and Easter break.

Harry had quietly informed the man that they always stayed at Hogwarts during those times.

As the man made to leave he helped himself to a crumpet, Harry asked about their punishment. Fudge had told them that the Ministry wouldn’t punish someone for something like that. Harry and Rose had a hard time believing the man considering their last summer.

Something strange was going on, and Harry knew Rose agreed. Why had Fudge been waiting for them? Why was he even looking for them? They took off last summer and no one went searching for them… He was the Minister of Magic, surely a case of underage magic was a bit below his pay grade. 

Harry looked at his sister as Fudge went off to get their rooms settled, they were told they’d be staying here the rest of the summer, and the two silently agreed to continue this conversation later. Yes, it was clear that Fudge seemed to be very keen to keep an eye on them as he told them that Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron, would keep an eye out for them and warned them against going out into Muggle London.

As Fudge left Harry mustered up the courage to ask the man if he would be able to sign their permission slips for Hogsmeade, given that he was the Minister of Magic. Fudge had uncomfortably denied the request before hastily making his exit.

And so began Harry and Rose’s stay in Diagon Alley.

When Tom showed them to their shared room, they were shocked and thrilled to see Hedwig waiting for them on top of their wardrobe. Rose had been quick to approach her, petting her feathers gently when Hedwig landed on her arm and Harry quietly thanked Tom for showing them to their room as the man left.

Their room was nice. It was the eleventh room and had a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, and a cheerfully crackling fire.

Harry moved over to sit on the bed and Rose lifted her arm, silently urging Hedwig to go to her brother. As the owl landed on Harry’s arm and he absentmindedly stroked her feathers, Rose made work on putting their trunks back to their proper size.

The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from a deep, velvety blue to a cold, steely grey and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. Harry could hardly believe that they’d left Privet Drive only a few hours ago, that they weren’t expelled, and that they were now facing two completely Dursley-free weeks.

“It’s been a very weird night, Hedwig,” he yawned.

Rose smiled over at her brother as she placed some treats for Hedwig on a small end table. She wandered over to the bed as Harry slumped back against the pillows, falling asleep almost instantly. As Hedwig flew back to the top of the wardrobe, after grabbing herself a treat, Rose removed Harry’s glasses, placing them carefully on the side, and laid down beside him.

Her brother was right, it had been a weird night, a long one too. It didn’t take Rose long to fall asleep as well, her eyes falling shut and brain shutting down for the night almost the second her head hit the pillow.

Living at the Leaky Cauldron was amazing. The fact that Harry and Rose could wander off to Diagon Alley anytime they wanted was a big plus. They got to sleep in if they wanted to and keep out all of their magical items.

Their room was quickly littered with pages of information strewn about the walls, much like Rose’s room at Hogwarts was, and Harry would often wander around reading some of the information his sister studied, marveling at her tenacity. He actually spent a good two hours reading over her information on how a broom flew and the magical properties surrounding it.

Rose loved being able to go check out Flourish and Blotts whenever she needed a new topic to read through. She had written to Marcus the day after they arrived and the boy had sent her some more books to read as well as asked about her summer so far.

It was rather helpful to have the boy around as he had access to certain books that only those in Pureblood circles had access to.

The twins had made a habit of doing homework outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour and even got free ice cream while they were there. Spending a few hours out in the sun of their own volition was an incredible experience.

They also went to Gringotts to refill their money bag and buy their school supplies for the upcoming year. They didn’t have to worry about one of the books on their list as Hagrid had sent it to them for their birthday a few weeks ago. They made a stop at the Apothecary store to replenish their potions supplies and also made their customary stop at Madam Malkin’s to adjust their robes and get one more outfit each.

Honestly, Harry hasn’t even seen any of the outfits since the first day they got each one, but he wouldn’t stop Rose. (It wasn’t like they needed them at school considering they wore their uniforms there and they couldn’t wear them in the Muggle world. Mind you Rose had taken to wearing hers now and again since they began their stay at Diagon Alley but Harry was far too lazy to look for his robes.)

Having a bag full of Galleons while staying so close to shops for as long as they had was really testing Harry’s restraint as well. He couldn’t help but slow down every time they passed by the broom shop where the new Firebolt was being displayed proudly in the window but he resisted the temptation to buy it.

Rose was very proud of her brother.

On one day in particular, while Harry lingered around the broom shop, Rose broke off and went to wander on her own. As she looked around, she decided to take a look in Magical Menagerie, one of the pet shops in Diagon Alley. 

Stepping into the brightly lit shop Rose scanned all the various animals that the shop had. Nodding absently at the shopkeeper who offered a bright greeting, Rose walked further in. There were various colours of cats lounging in cages, their tails flicking back and forth, there were dogs that jumped and barked excitedly as she passed by them and Rose couldn’t help but tap the glass in front of them with a smile. Piled together in a big open cage filled with stands and tubes were numerous ferrets running about. In another one built very similar to the ferret’s cage were hamsters, mice and rats, some shuffling about while others were curled up asleep.

The shop was mostly empty, Rose couldn’t help but notice. A small girl had her nose pressed against the glass that held the puppies, while a few steps away was an older man who was gesturing over at the animals to one of the shopkeepers.

Glancing down another aisle Rose could see some older teens that she didn’t recognize watching the hamsters running about with grins. She assumed they were making them race as one of them cheered while the two others groaned and handed over some coins.

As she looked around Rose noticed an archway that led to a darker lit room.

When she stepped through the first thing Rose noticed was a large enclosure that held tarantulas, about a dozen of them each one crawling its way around its makeshift terrain. Moving further in she saw a ginormous tank that had fish of all sorts of colour’s swimming about idly. She stepped closer and looked at one whose scales seemed to glitter all the colours of the rainbow under the lighting of the tank.

Moving on she turned down an aisle and was immediately surrounded by snakes. One tank held a large pale-yellow snake that was curled up on one end. There were multiple small, red and black snakes coiling around each other in another right next to it. Despite how beautiful those all looked there was another that caught Rose’s eye. Curled up by itself in a tank was a small snake about the size of a pencil. Its scales looked to be pitch black but when Rose moved closer, they seemed to turn an emerald green in just the right lighting.

“Like that one, eh?”

Glancing up Rose was greeted with the sight of a gaunt man with a clearly forced smile stretched on his face.

“He’s on sale,” the man told her faux-brightly. “Only five Galleons, a quarter of the price that they normally are.”

Rose narrowed her eyes slightly, wondering why the man seemed so eager to get rid of the snake. She glanced back at the tank and watched as the animal inside shifted slightly.

“He’s a magical breed—”

The man was cut off from finishing his pitch when a shout was heard from the front. Sending Rose a faint smile, the man lifted a finger asking her to wait before hurriedly making his way out front.

Rose looked back at the tank and, leaning closer, quietly asked. “Why does he seem so eager to get rid of you?”

The snake froze, before lifting its head and swaying a little as it eyed Rose. “Too poisonous. Somewhat illegal. Too volatile. Accepted me as a trade for another creature.” It finally hissed.

Rose nodded slightly. It seemed the man was in quite the situation, accepting a somewhat illegal animal and now no one wanted to risk buying it. Odds are the snake was slightly illegal due to its venom and if he was prone to lashing out then no one would want to risk buying him.

“Do you want to come with me?” Rose finally asked.

The snake moved closer to the glass. “Will you feed me mice?” It hissed back at her. Rose smiled and gave a quiet affirmative. “Then yes, Speaker.”

Mouth pulling into a grin, Rose reached in to grab the snake, opening her hand and waiting for it to slide up onto her palm. “No biting anyone,” she ordered quietly.

“Yes, Speaker.” The snake hissed quietly as it slid up her hand and into her sleeve.

“You can call me Rose.”

Before the snake could offer any reply, the shop worker came back down the aisle. He clapped his hands together quietly as he grinned at Rose and opened his mouth to make his pitch.

Rose lifted a hand to stop him and pointed to the tank.

The man glanced over at the tank and did a double take when he didn’t see the snake. Looking over at Rose he saw the snake's head pop out of the collar of her robes and though the sight had him paling slightly, he didn’t offer any form of disagreement. “… so, you’ll take him?”

Rose nodded once.

The man eyed her for only a moment of hesitation then seemed to slouch with relief. “Alright, I’ll show you a tank you can purchase as well as some food pellets and mice.”

After that it was a pretty straightforward procedure. Rose bought a small tank and was informed she’d likely have to come back for another one as the snake grew in size. She bought some food pellets and a bag of preserved mice that she was assured would pop to life once they were out of the bag for about twenty seconds.

Rose wondered if it made a difference to a snake whether the mouse was alive or not. She’d have to ask later.

The man also offered her a small pamphlet with a picture of a snake on the front, informing her that it would tell her everything she needed to know. Apparently her snake would grow to be about ten-feet long and about four-inches thick.

No wonder the guy was desperate to get rid of him.

Rose got quite the deal on most of her items. In fact, her tank and food were twenty percent off their regular prices.

According to the pamphlet the snake's venom was highly poisonous and would result in paralysis instantly and, if not treated within five-minutes, death. It was considered a class XXXX in most countries and was advised to only handle if one had special knowledge. It also said not to sell to anyone without at least a Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T.

“Are you really sure you should have bought him?”

Harry and Rose were back in their room at the Leaky Cauldron and Rose was showing Harry everything she bought. He was eyeing the snake warily now that he read through the pamphlet.

“He promised not to bite anyone,” Rose said quietly, stroking the snake scales softly.

Harry lifted his brows with a slightly dubious expression before letting that line of topic go and switching to another. “What’re you gonna do when he’s fully grown? You won’t be able to hide him at school and the Dursleys won’t let you keep him…”

Rose pursed her lips. “I’ll shrink him,” she finally said.

“Ro’,” Harry said slowly. “Anyone can cast an unshrinking spell.”

Rose frowned. “I’ll find one only I can do. Maybe I can cast it in Parseltongue…”

Well, that seemed reasonable. Harry went back to looking at the pamphlet and he had to admit that it was a nice-looking snake. Very Slytherin-ish. He had no doubt that his sister would make sure the snake didn’t do anything that could get her in trouble so he wouldn’t worry.

“What’re you gonna name him?”

Rose looked up from the snake and smiled sweetly at her brother.

On the last day of holiday’s Harry and Rose had yet to meet Ron and Hermione; while disappointed, Harry reassured himself with the thought that they’d see the two on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow at least. The two of them had got up and dressed that morning and Harry dragged Rose with him to get one last look at the Firebolt. The two of them had just been pondering on where to go for lunch when they heard someone shout their name.

“Harry! Ro’!”

Turning around the two Potters were quick to spot Ron and Hermione sitting outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour— Ron more freckled than ever and his hair longer, Hermione a golden brown, both of them waving frantically at the twins.

Harry broke out in a grin and quickly dragged Rose off towards their friends.

“Finally!” Ron said, grinning at the twins as they sat down. “We went to the Leaky Cauldron but they said you guys had left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin’s, and—”

“We got all our school stuff last week,” Harry explained. “And how come you knew we were staying at the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Dad,” Ron said easily.

Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course have heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Marge.

“Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?” Hermione asked in a serious voice as she leaned forward.

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry said defensively, while Ron roared with laughter. “I just— lost control.”

“It’s not funny, Ron,” Hermione said sharply. “Honestly, I’m amazed Harry and Ro’ weren’t expelled.”

“Why would Ro’ be expelled? She didn’t do anything,” Ron said in confusion, his humour still lingering in his voice.

Hermione frowned. “Honestly Ron, it’s not like the Ministry would be able to tell which of them cast the spell. They’d have to punish both to be fair.”

“Well, how’d you know it was me?” Harry asked indignantly.

Hermione just shot Harry a look that had Rose snorting quietly, a smile pulling at her lips.

Harry just shook his head and offered a reply to Hermione’s earlier comment. “I’m surprised I wasn’t expelled either— or— forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested.” He glanced over at Ron. “Your dad doesn’t know why Fudge let me off, does he?”

“Probably ‘cause it’s you guys, isn’t it?” Ron offered with a shrug, shovelling some ice cream into his mouth. “Famous Potter Twins and all that. I’d hate to see what the Ministry’d do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they’d have to dig me up first, because Mum would’ve killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King’s Cross with us tomorrow; Hermione’s there as well!”

Hermione nodded, beaming. “Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things.”

“Excellent!” Harry said happily. “So, have you got all your new books and stuff?”

Ron sat up straight away, “look at this.” Reaching into one of the bags sitting around them he pulled out a long thin box. “Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we’ve got all our books—” He pointed at a large bag under his chair. “What about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two.”

Rose couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. The shop owner had been very unpleasant at first when she and Harry showed up for their books, shoving them out of the way as he walked over to the cages that held the monster books. He lucked out that they didn’t even need those books, but regardless, he should’ve been more professional about things, not taking out his irritability on two thirteen-year-olds.

As Rose looked over their bags she reached forward and poked Hermione, gesturing to the bulging bags on the ground next to her.

Harry was quick to follow his sister’s gaze and his brows shot up.

“Well, I’m taking more new subjects than you, aren’t I. Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies—” Hermione rambled excitedly.

Rose frowned at the last one and Ron spoke up, asking the question she had just been thinking.

“What are you doing Muggle Studies for? You’re Muggleborn! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!”

“But it’ll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view,” Hermione said earnestly.

Rose shared a dubious look with her brother. She would not want to take a course on information she grew up knowing, but she wouldn’t demean Hermione’s choice.

“Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?” Harry asked, while Ron sniggered, and Rose flicked his ear.

Hermione ignored them.

“Have you looked at your books yet, Ro’?”

Harry snorted. “‘Course she has.”

Rose scowled at Harry before nodding her head in agreement.

“I’m quite interested in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes,” Hermione said eagerly. “You’re already familiar with the subject, right?”

She got a nod in reply.

“I’ve still got ten Galleons,” Hermione said then, checking her purse. “It’s my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present.”

“How about a nice book?” Ron offered innocently.

“No, I don’t think so,” Hermione hummed thoughtfully. “I really want an owl. I mean, Harry and Rose got Hedwig and you’ve got Errol—”

“No, I don’t,” Ron denied. “Errol’s a family owl. All I’ve got is Scabbers.” Reaching down he pulled his pet rat out of his pocket, making Rose lean away from the boy slightly. “And I want to get him checked over,” he added, placing Scabbers on the table in front of them. “I don’t think Egypt agreed with him.”

Scabbers was looking thinner than usual and there was a definite droop to his whiskers.

“Ro’ got a pet too,” Harry told the two of them as he looked over Scabbers. “There’s a magical creature shop over there,” he gestured over in the direction absently. “You could see if they’ve got anything for Scabbers and Hermione can get her owl.”

Hermione and Ron looked over at Rose in surprise, not realizing their friend had even wanted a pet.

“What’d you get?” Ron asked.

Reaching up into the collar of her shirt, Rose pulled out the small snake she had purchased not long ago, smiling faintly as Scabbers quickly crawled across the table towards Ron, dropping out of sight. Ron’s face went pale as he leaned back from the table now.

“I like his scales,” Hermione offered weakly as she stared at the snake nervously.

Harry laughed at their reactions. “Don’t worry. He won’t hurt you, we already talked to him.”

The two shot the boy a look that told him they weren’t entirely reassured by this.

Looking back to Rose, Hermione asked. “What did you name him?”

When she glanced over at her brother, Harry rolled his eyes fondly and said. “She named him Jörmy.”

“Jörmy?” Ron repeated, the word feeling weird in his mouth when he said it.

“Short for Jörmungandr.”

Hermione shot Rose an incredulous look. “You named your pet snake after the Mythological snake that swallows the earth whole at the end of times?”

Rose nodded her head once with a pleased smile.

Hermione stared for a moment, before shaking her head. “Alright, let’s go to the pet shop then,” she said at last. There was a general murmur of assent and the two paid for their ice cream while the twins helped with carrying bags.

The shop was just as noisy and crowded as it had been when Rose came here, although it was not crowded with people but rather animals. As Hermione made off in the direction of the pets, Rose tagging along, Harry and Ron made their way to the front counter, Ron plopping Scabbers down onto its surface as soon as he reached it.

“It’s my rat,” he told the witch. “He’s been a bit off-colour ever since I brought him back from Egypt.”

The witch pulled out a thick pair of black glasses, putting them on slowly as she stared down at Scabbers.

Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was secondhand (he had once belonged to Ron’s brother Percy) and a bit battered. Next to the glossy rats in the cage on the countertop, he looked especially woebegone.

“Hm,” the witch murmured, picking up Scabbers. “How old is this rat?”

“Dunno,” Ron shrugged. “Quite old. He used to belong to my brother.”

“What powers does he have?” the witch asked, examining Scabbers closely.

“Er—” The truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers.

The witch’s eyes moved from Scabbers’s tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly.

“He’s been through the mill, this one,” she said.

“He was like that when Percy gave him to me,” Ron said defensively, making Harry hide a faint smile.

“An ordinary common or garden rat like this can’t be expected to live longer than three years or so,” the witch told him. “Now, if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these—”

She indicated the black rats, who promptly started skipping again. Ron muttered, “Show-offs.”

“Well, if you don’t want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic,” the witch offered, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle.

“Okay,” Ron said gratefully. “How much— Ouch!”

Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head, and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers.

“No, Crookshanks, no!” cried the witch, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door.

“Scabbers!” Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry quickly followed.

It took them nearly ten minutes to catch Scabbers, who had taken refuge under a wastepaper bin outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. Ron stuffed the trembling rat back into his pocket and straightened up, massaging his head.

“What was that?”

“It was either a very big cat or quite a small tiger,” Harry said seriously, glancing back over at the pet shop.

“Where’s Hermione and Ro’?”

“Hermione’s probably getting her owl and Ro’s likely still with her.”

The two boys made their way back up the crowded street to the Magical Menagerie. As they reached it, Hermione came out, Rose a few steps behind, but she wasn’t carrying an owl. Her arms were clamped tightly around the enormous ginger cat.

“You bought that monster?” Ron said, his mouth hanging open.

“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Hermione said, glowing.

That was a matter of opinion, thought Harry. The cat’s ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into a brick wall. Now that Scabbers was out of sight, however, the cat was purring contentedly in Hermione’s arms.

As Ron and Hermione began to squabble about Hermione’s choice in pets, Rose stepped up beside Harry. She caught his eye, looked over at Crookshanks, and back to Harry, raising one brow.

Ugly thing, isn’t he?

Harry was quick to hide his smile behind his hand. He was glad to see his sister was in agreement about the poor cat's looks. Turning back to Hermione and Ron, Harry and Rose began to usher the two back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

They found Mr. Weasley sitting in the bar, reading the Daily Prophet.

“Harry! Rose!” he said, smiling as he looked up. “How are you two?”

“We’re good, thanks,” Harry said as he, his sister, Ron, and Hermione joined Mr. Weasley with, putting their shopping bags down as they did so. Mr. Weasley put down his paper, and Harry saw the now familiar picture of Sirius Black staring up at him.

“They still haven’t caught him, then?”

“No,” Mr. Weasley said, looking extremely grave. “They’ve pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far.”

“Would we get a reward if we caught him?” Ron asked. “It’d be good to get some more money—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,” Mr. Weasley said, who on closer inspection looked very strained. “Black’s not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It’s the Azkaban guards who’ll get him back, you mark my words.”

At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with her own shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasleys’ youngest child and only girl, Ginny.

Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry and quite the fan of Rose, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw the two, perhaps because they had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts. She went very red and muttered “hello” without looking at either one of them. Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry had never met and said, “Harry. How nice to see you.”

“Hello, Percy,” Harry said, trying not to laugh as he took hold of his hand.

Giving a firm shake, Percy moved onto Rose, who was much more composed when shaking his hand then Harry had been.

“I hope you’re both well?” Percy said pompously, shaking Rose’s hand like he had Harry’s. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.

“Very well, thanks—” Harry said for the both of them.

“Harry! Rosie!” Fred said, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply to Harry. “Simply splendid to see you, old boy—”

“Marvellous,” George chimed in, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry’s hand in turn. “Absolutely spiffing.”

Percy scowled.

“That’s enough, now,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Mum!” Fred cried, as though he’d only just spotted her and seized her hand, too. “How really corking to see you—”

“I said, that’s enough,” Mrs. Weasley said, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. “Hello, Harry, Rose, dears. I suppose you’ve heard our exciting news?” She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy’s chest. “Second Head Boy in the family!” she said, swelling with pride.

“And last,” Fred muttered under his breath.

“I don’t doubt that,” Mrs. Weasley said, frowning suddenly. “I notice they haven’t made you two Prefects.”

“What do we want to be Prefects for?” George asked, looking revolted at the very idea. “It’d take all the fun out of life.”

Ginny giggled.

“You want to set a better example for your sister!” Mrs. Weasley snapped.

“Ginny’s got other brothers to set her an example, Mother,” Percy said loftily. “I’m going up to change for dinner…”

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh.

“We tried to shut him in a pyramid,” he told the twins. “But Mum spotted us.”

The group had dinner together that night, which was a very enjoyable experience. Tom had put some tables together in the parlour and they ate their way through five delicious courses. What followed the dinner was a less than enjoyable experience.

Harry had been heading downstairs to look for Scabbers rat tonic, Rose tagging along, not wanting to stand around and listen to Percy and Ron shout at one another. Before they reached the last step the two had overheard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley speaking heatedly to one another in hushed tones.

In a stroke of Potter luck, it appeared they twins had some answers to a few things that had been alluding them lately. Apparently Sirius Black was a high ranked Death Eater who was out for revenge and had his sights set on Harry and Rose.

Honestly, Rose just wanted one normal year.

The two slipped back upstairs before they were spotted and had silently resigned themselves to this latest news when they were back in their own room for the night. Harry at least seemed determined not to be killed, going as far to say it out loud for the both of them just as they were about to fall asleep. Rose had just sent him a tired look while the mirror offered complements to his spirit in a sleepy tone.

Chapter Text

Getting back to Hogwarts was easy enough— at first.

The group had been given cars to drive to Kings Cross and it didn’t take a genius for either Harry or Rose to realise it was because they were worried Black would attack them on the way there. A justifiable worry considering they got stranded by themselves last year. When they got to platform nine and three-quarters Mr. Weasley pulled Harry and Rose aside to inform them about Black as well as give them a bit of advice that confused them both. It seemed the Weasley patriarch felt the need to tell the twins not to go after Black.

Did he think they were stupid? Why would they go after a man who obviously wanted them dead?

The two didn’t have time to ask the man this as the train began to huff and puff and they hurried to get on before it took off. Once on the train they had just exchanged a bewildered glance before meeting up with Ron and Hermione and searching for an empty compartment.

They wound up in one that had only one other occupant inside; Professor R. J. Lupin. The man, who the group assumed was their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, was asleep when they entered, and stayed asleep for almost the entire trip. That was until—

Dementors.

Rose had read up on dementors last year after Hagrid had been sent to Azkaban. She hadn’t had the chance to really tell Harry about them, things being so chaotic at the end of their second year and then forgetting by the time summer rolled around. All Harry had heard about them were brief snippets here and there. Regardless, it appeared the fulsome creatures decided to board the train to look for Sirius Black. When it came to their compartment, which had gained two bodies in all the commotion— Neville and Ginny—, it had left them all freezing up.

The creature that entered had been illuminated only by a ball of flames that the now awake Lupin had conjured. It was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling, face completely hidden beneath its hood and its hand— the one that was sticking out from pulling open the door— well the sight of it alone… it was glistening, greyish, slimy-looking and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water.

As it began to draw in a deep, rattling breath Harry and Rose could hear a rushing in their ears. The faint sounds of something more making itself known. Harry’s eyes had rolled back up into his head as he fell to the floor in a dead faint while Rose just barely managed to keep herself upright, her hand already reaching downward towards her brother.

She was rather grateful that Lupin took that moment to intervene— although why the man didn’t do so beforehand was beyond her— as he conjured up a glowing white mist that had the dementor rushing off.

With her head still spinning, Rose had been quick to kneel down next to her brother— dropping rather harshly in a way that indicated just how close she herself had been to passing out— and smacked his cheek none too gently in order to wake him up. In the back of her mind she couldn’t help but wonder if her brother had heard it too, the voice screaming in the distance.

When Harry had woken up, he had been given a brief rundown of what had happened and Rose had her question answered when her brother asked who had been screaming. When he just looked troubled as the others told him no one screamed, Rose had squeezed his hand tightly, sharing a look with him that let him know she had heard it too.

They arrived at Hogwarts shortly after that and when they got to the castle— Harry and Rose getting their first ride in the horseless drawn carriages that carried the second-year and up students to the school— Harry and Hermione were hauled off by Professor McGonagall while Rose and Ron made their way into the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast. Rose shared a brief nod with Ron before they split off to their respective tables.

As Rose made her way down the length of the Slytherin table she glanced around her, getting a look at the somewhat familiar faces. She took a seat at the edge of where the third-years would normally sit, closer to the fourth years. Merlin knew that her year mates were still painfully annoying to deal with in their spot firmly under Malfoy junior’s thumb.

She still could not fathom how the boy wound up in Slytherin. She thought maybe the Malfoy line was severely lacking in any forms of subtlety but after meeting the boy’s father she had to change that theory. The man was a quintessential Slytherin. Cunning, sly and underhanded. She may not care for the man at all but she could respect the qualities, how Draco Malfoy missed every single one of those family traits was something she couldn’t even begin to understand.

Nevertheless, she was still considered a social pariah in third-year circles, and somewhat the younger years, whom Malfoy made sure to get under command first chance he got. (Read: made vague threats about his father) But the older years listened to Marcus first and foremost and his last order was for them to leave her alone, to which they did.

The first-years were shuffled in then and Rose glanced across the Gryffindor table until she spotted Ron and noticed that her brother and Hermione were still absent. She wondered why Professor McGonagall needed them.

“Did you hear Potter fainted?”

The snickering whisper of Draco Malfoy faintly reached her ears and Rose thought perhaps that’s why the professor wanted her brother. She ignored the sounds of Malfoy and Parkinson’s mocking voices and instead kept an eye on the door for Harry.

She knew from her reading that there were no real damaging effects from a short meeting with the dementors, it’d take quite a few hours if not weeks for someone to truly lose it. Harry, being the stubborn boy that he was, would definitely take weeks even with his fainting. Most of the time those who came into contact with the creatures were just given chocolate, a known deterrent against the effects of dementors.

This year the first-years were directed in their Sortings by Professor Flitwick, the small man happily calling each name forward. Rose listened on with half an ear, wondering if her brother would be disappointed missing this year's Sorting, at least Ron made it for this one, even though he no longer had any siblings being Sorted. 

It was only a few minutes after the first-years were Sorted and seated that Harry and Hermione made their way into the Great Hall, heading straight for the seats that Ron had saved them.

Rose saw Ron lean over to mutter something to Harry but before he could reply the headmaster stood up to speak.

Professor Dumbledore was a man that Rose was not too impressed by. His continued need to both involve himself in her and her brother’s lives as well as leave them both out to dry when they actually needed help had long since gotten tiresome. He seemed more content at sitting back and watching to see how they handled certain things rather than actually assisting them when it mattered most.

He had plans for them. It didn’t take Rose long to see that. The man had been at the top of the wizarding hierarchy for so long, so used to getting things his way, that Rose knew he would be in for a rude awakening when they wouldn’t just comply with his wishes down the road.

Harry probably would have, had it just been him. He was always the helping kind of person, ready to aid those who needed it. But one thing the two of them had developed after years of living with the Dursleys was a fierce loyalty to one another.

Rose wouldn’t play by the man’s rules and Harry wouldn’t abandon her for anyone else.

She tuned back into Dumbledore’s speech just in time for him to introduce Professor Lupin as their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The applause that met this announcement was rather lacking but that was to be expected. After the last two professors the students had learned to keep their expectations low, perhaps even before then. The man did not look to be upset about it as he gave a slightly awkward nod of thanks. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

Glancing across the head table Rose couldn’t help but notice the absolute look of loathing that Snape was sending Professor Lupin. Apparently they knew one another. The look he was giving the man was one he typically reserved for Harry.

She had no doubt that the man did not like her either but combining the fact that she was actually pretty good at potions and didn’t speak much, if at all, it must’ve been a lot harder to outright ridicule her. Not to mention if he took points from her as often as he did Harry, his own House would quickly fall in the House points standings.

“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued as the lackluster applause for Professor Lupin died away. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

Rose’s gaze shot across the hall to her brother who met her stare with wide eyes. The Gryffindor table then broke out in tumultuous applause, the other tables quickly following suit, although Slytherins was much tamer than others. Looking over at Hagrid, Rose could see the man was red in the face and grinning down at his large hands bashfully. She resisted smiling in amusement as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last to stop clapping and as Dumbledore spoke up again Hagrid wiped at his eyes with the tablecloth.

“Well, I think that’s everything of importance,” Dumbledore said. “Let the feast begin!”

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid. They knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. Hagrid wasn’t a fully qualified wizard; he had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he had not committed. It had been the twins, Ron, and Hermione who had cleared Hagrid’s name last year.

At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed and the trio headed up for the head table. Rose would offer her congratulations another time, she decided as she stood from the table and made her way out of the Great Hall.

As she made her way through the familiar halls of Hogwarts, down to the dungeons where her dorm was located, Marcus fell into step beside her. She glanced over at the boy absently; he looked the same as ever. Though he seemed to grow another inch over the summer, now a towering figure, at least from her point of view. 

To be fair she wasn’t exactly winning any height contests.

Marcus’ hair was combed neatly, falling in waves just above his shoulders now. Rose couldn’t help but think of the juxtaposition between what Purebloods consider proper looks and what Muggles did. Or— her relatives, she should say. Vernon would never consider having hair the length of Marcus’ proper, never mind the length of Lucius Malfoy’s, who’s hair was just a bit shorter than Rose’s but always tied back neatly.

Marcus had dark eyes and his skin was rather fair. Not as pale as some Purebloods but he wasn’t as tanned as, say, Higgs. His robes looked brand new, not a wrinkle in sight and his tie was set correctly around his neck; he looked like a proper Pureblood heir.

“How was your summer?” He asked casually.

Rose caught his eye and raised one brow, offering a one shoulder shrug in response. Nodding slowly, Marcus pursed his lips as he took in the view around, something that just served to make Rose more suspicious.

“Rumor has it your brother blew up your aunt,” he said at last.

Rose huffed slightly; figures that’s what he’d be interested in. She only inclined her head in reply to his comment, not wanting to elaborate. Marcus grinned slightly, he wasn’t expecting an explanation, but he was happy with the confirmation.

As they approached the entrance Marcus said the password and waited for Rose to go through, glancing down the hall at the other students coming. He debated waiting for them but decided that they were a bit too far to stand here and wait for. Heading further into the Slytherin common room, he glanced around at the few students that lingered about. He caught Rose heading for the dorms and took a few quick steps towards her.

“We’re still meeting at the same place?” He asked.

Rose gave him a half-hearted thumbs up as she headed up the staircase, making Marcus shake his head in amusement. At least she agreed.

Marcus had something important to talk to her about and had written to her over the summer asking if they could meet up in the library like they had the previous year. As he looked back over the rest of the House, he couldn’t help but smirk as he thought about how things might change. Maybe not a great deal for most but for those cozying up to little Malfoy…

Chuckling quietly to himself, Marcus turned and climbed the staircase leisurely.

The first week of school had been rather easy. Harry was quickly growing annoyed with Malfoy and his crowd making fun of him for fainting but cheered himself up with the thought of the coming up Quidditch match Gryffindor had against Slytherin.

Ron was beyond baffled about Hermione’s overlapping time schedule but avoided bringing it up again after the girl snapped at him.

It appeared that Harry’s first Divination class was an absolute disaster as apparently the professor predicted Harry was going to die. At least Harry’s worries were somewhat appeased by Professor McGonagall’s lack of concern over the situation, especially after she told him that Trelawney predicted someone would die every year and hadn’t been right yet.

Ron and Hermione, unsurprisingly, got into a fight over the whole thing.

When the three had met up with Rose at Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creature’s class Hermione had quietly informed her of what happened and she just raised a brow at her brother. When Ron and Hermione were distracted, Harry took a moment to remind Rose of the huge black dog they saw when they left the Dursleys.

Rose shot him a look that said, am I gonna die now too?

Harry huffed. He had to admit, when you thought more on it… it sounded ridiculous, but still what were the odds? Plus, they had an Azkaban escapee after them!

Hagrid’s class did not go so well, unsurprisingly because of Malfoy. The obnoxious and idiotic boy clearly needed someone to hold his hand with everything he did. After ignoring Hagrid’s warning about how to treat a Hippogriff (the creature they were studying today) he insulted the thing and wound up getting injured and taken to the Medical Wing.

The Slytherin’s were quick to insult Hagrid as he carried Malfoy away while the Gryffindors hurriedly defended them. Rose was quick to part ways with the lot, sending a wave towards her brother as she made her way to the library.

The next few days went on as normal, although Harry told Rose about how Hagrid was worried about being fired, apparently Malfoy was milking this injury for all it was worth.

Harry also told Rose about Hagrid’s reaction to Harry going to visit him late at night. If they hadn’t overheard what they had and Mr. Weasley hadn’t told them about Black, she imagined her brother would have been rather hurt by the man’s actions. All but throwing him out of his hut so abruptly.

On the bright side, it seemed Harry liked Arithmancy; though he only had one class so far it wasn’t nearly as daunting as he thought it would be. He already had half a mind to drop out of Divination, he was tired of getting fearful stares from the rest of the class.

Ancient Runes was turning out to be everything Rose wanted it to be. Though the class work was rather easy— unsurprising given she has been studying runes for almost two years now— Rose found a way to do the work assigned but also challenge herself a bit. Much to her pleasure, that plan had also resulted in her getting quite a few House points for Slytherin. Hermione already asked Rose to give her a few tips as well and the two girls had plans to meet up so she could give the Gryffindor the quick rundown plus tips and tricks she learnt from Marcus in previous years.

Malfoy made his dramatic return to class late Thursday morning in the middle of their Potions class. It was a rather unpleasant one and, after a few underhanded comments from Malfoy, left Harry and Rose feeling as though they were missing something. First Mr. Weasley and now Malfoy assumed that they’d want to go after Black themselves. Why?

Brighter news was that Neville succeeded in making the day's potion and his pet frog, Trevor, lived another day. (Snape was apparently feeling extra sadistic and had told Neville that he would be feeding Trevor the boy’s potion at the end of class.) Although points were taken off of Gryffindor for this, much to the displeasure of the House members there.

Defence certainly brought a change in mood for the bunch of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Professor Lupin had them working with boggarts and Neville’s sure was a treat.

A boggart was a shape-shifter that took the shape of whatever a person feared the most. It just so happened that Neville’s was Snape.

The fact that everyone accepted this so easily and weren’t even the slightest bit concerned was an indictment on the Hogwarts education system, Rose thought privately.

Professor Lupin's way of dealing with boggarts? Turn them into something funny using the spell, Riddikulus! This led to a form of Snape appearing, sneering expression in place, and having his outfit turned into a rather unflattering set of lacy dress robes, an ungodly hat and a big red handbag. Everyone had broken out into ruckus laughter and even a great deal of Slytherin’s couldn’t hold back their amusement. As they all took their turns with the boggart, they eagerly watched as everyone transformed their fears into something amusing.

Harry had wondered what his biggest fear was, the first thing coming to mind being Voldemort. But as soon as he thought about it another thing came to mind. The harsh rattling breaths ringing in his ears, the coldness that seeped through your bones.

Dementors. Definitely dementors.

Rose wasn’t sure what her greatest fear was. It certainly wasn’t Voldemort. Honestly, the only thing she was scared of was losing her brother and she didn’t have the slightest clue on how to make her brother's dead body look funny.

In the end it didn’t matter what either Potter’s biggest fear was as they weren’t given a chance to go— nor was Hermione.

As class was called to an end, the students spoke excitedly with one another while Harry worried about why he wasn’t given a chance to get rid of the boggart. Rose squeezed his hand in solidarity, silently urging him not to dwell on it before she made her way to the library. Rose could guess why the man didn’t let either one of them face the boggart, he likely assumed their greatest fear was Voldemort and it wouldn’t exactly be wise to show that to a class filled with thirteen-year-olds.

The library was pretty empty when Rose entered but that was not that surprising considering the school year had just started. As she made her way to the table she typically sat at, she let her fingers run across the empty tabletops and bookshelves.

She didn’t have to wait long after she got comfortable as Marcus, followed by Pucey, came stalking into the library and grabbed a seat at her table. Rose was sat at one end, her books spread around her, while Marcus was on her right one seat down. Pucey sat across from Marcus, while the chair on the other end of the table remained empty.

Rose didn’t really mind the extra company all that much. Pucey, although outright hostile to the idea of her in the beginning, had come around and had spent a great number of days at the end of last year in the library with them whenever he had the chance and even in the common room too. The boy had a rather broody expression most of the time but Rose quickly learnt that he was rather funny once he was comfortable. Prickly like a porcupine, unless he liked you well enough.

He was a favourite amongst some of the older girls apparently, outside of Slytherin too, although the boy didn’t seem too interested in dating. His older brother was apparently just as popular and already engaged to Olivia Shardlow, a Slytherin who graduated last year.

Last year it had been Marcus, Pucey, and Higgs joining her, the last of which graduated just last year.

Higgs had been as easy going as they came, for a Slytherin at least. He never had an outright problem with Rose, joining her and Marcus in studying ever since her first year— when he was free to, at least. He was replaced as the Slytherin Seeker last year by Malfoy, and while he wasn’t overly upset, Rose had been able to tell that he was a bit annoyed. There were times he reminded her of a golden retriever, with his blond hair, hazel eyes and perpetually tanned skin. He could be as dark and cunning as any other Slytherin when pressed but seemed content to go with the flow for the most part.

He hadn’t been overly popular for his looks but rather his charming personality. That wasn’t to say he was unattractive, not at all, it was just that he was rather skilled with honeyed words when it came to girls. A skill he always appeared to be pretty proud of, Rose noticed. He seemed more interested in ‘playing the field’ for now than he was about settling down.

The two boys were Marcus’s best friends. Higgs since they were kids and Pucey since he started to attend Hogwarts. Even when things were still a bit tense between her and Marcus, the two would still come study with him, putting up with her presence if they had to. (More Pucey than Higgs as the latter didn’t have much of a problem with her, but still.)

“Besides your brother blowing up your aunt, did anything else exciting happen this summer?”

Rose glanced over at Marcus, who was already looking back at her, and his question had Pucey’s attention turning to her too. Narrowing her eyes briefly, Rose then gave a small smile, reaching up to the collar of her robes and pulling out Jörmy. The two of them sat back slightly as Rose pulled out a small black snake, its tail coiling around her wrist as it made a quiet hissing sound.

“You got a snake?”

Rose glanced over at Pucey and raised one brow causing the boy to shake his head, dismissing his own stupid question instantly.

Marcus hesitantly leaned forward to observe the snake that was now twisting around and making its way up Rose’s sleeve. “He poisonous?” He asked easily and got a nod in response. “Deadly?” Again, he got another nod. “Nice.”

Rose huffed a small laugh at Marcus’s easy acceptance of Jörmy; who by now was almost at her shoulder, heading for his customary spot around her neck. Pucey didn’t offer any further comment, instead slowly turning back to the homework he had been working on.

“Potter, I’ve been doing some thinking,” Marcus said suddenly.

Rose looked over at the boy in question, taking in his serious expression. It seemed Pucey had an idea about what he was going to say as he sat straighter, abandoning his work all together.

“Being the Head of the Slytherin Hierarchy means believing you’re the best of the lot,” Marcus said slowly. “And— that’s not something I’ve fully believed I was since the end of your first year. Second year I got your opinion on a lot of things, so I think maybe we should just… make things more official.”

The two looked at Rose expectantly and after a beat she just shook her head, raising her brows in question.

“The hierarchy, Potter,” Marcus said with a huff of laughter. “I think you should be at the top. You fit a lot of the criteria and you already are technically at the top in a non-official sense.”

She did fit a lot of the criteria. It had been true back when the group of Slytherins had sat in the common room discussing whether or not Rose was a Parselmouth, and it only became more true as time went on. For Merlin sakes, she had a pet snake to boot, one that she could quite easily communicate with.

Rose eyed the two older boys for a few moments, before she grabbed hold of her books and shoved them in her bag. They watched in confusion as she swung her bag over her shoulder and stood up, jerking her head to the door in silent command.

Follow me.

Hastily gathering their things, the two Slytherins followed behind Rose, exchanging a bewildered glance with one another. Marcus stayed a step behind her while Pucey followed behind him. Nothing was said as the group made their way up a set of staircases and through the halls, passing only the occasional person here and there. It didn’t take them long to reach Rose’s intended destination and Rose held up one figure and went inside.

The two boys were confused as to what they were doing at the second-floor girls' lavatory but didn’t say anything. It didn’t take long for Rose to open the door and gesture for them to enter. Marcus only hesitated for a second before he stepped in, Pucey throwing caution to the wind for the time being and following suit. Thankfully the bathroom was empty, save for Moaning Myrtle who quickly headed into one of the stalls at the sight of the two Slytherin boys.

Rose didn’t spare Myrtle a glance as she made her way over to a set of pipes, the other two still slowly following. Scanning the pipes for an etching she looked at only a handful of times before, Rose spoke evenly.

“Open.”

Pucey froze at the sound of Parseltongue. That was the first time he had heard Rose speak it, only the second time he heard her speak at all . He and Marcus watched with wide eyes as the pipes began to move with a rumble, pulling apart until an opening was revealed leading downwards into darkness.

Rose absently waved her wand, giving the pipes a quick wash, then gestured for them to go down. Marcus looked over at one of his best friends and back to Rose. With a mental shrug, he stepped forward, glancing at it briefly and hopping down. As he fell, he resisted the urge to yell as his body slid down down down before arching at an angle, his speed slowing down slightly. Finally, his feet hit solid ground and he quickly stood up, not wanting to stick to the spot too long and risk getting run over.

Lighting his wand and looking around at where he landed, Marcus’ nose scrunched up at the obviously damaged room. With large chunks of stone lying about it and a hole in a wall of stone that had clearly caved in from somewhere, it was clear this place was all but abandoned. A closer inspection revealed what looked like the old skin from a snake but one far bigger than any Marcus had ever seen before.

Turning back to where he had come from, Marcus watched as Rose finally came down, Adrian already up, wand lit, and looking around. Not offering any words, or even a glance, Rose made her way towards the hole in the rubble that Marcus had noticed earlier.

Well, they made it this far, Marcus thought as he followed behind. The other side of the hole was just as damaged as the side they were just on but as they made their way further in, they came to a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

The sight alone had the two Slytherin boys freezing. Was this—

Rose didn’t give them any time to process as she gave another low hiss and the serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves sliding smoothly out of sight. Stepping forward without any hesitation, Rose made her way inside with a small pair of awestruck Slytherins trailing behind.

“Is this the Chamber of Secrets?” Pucey finally asked quietly, his voice echoing around the large room, the words repeating faintly.

Rose nodded as she wandered forward, walking around the basilisk carcass as she went. With a wave of her wand numerous lanterns that were hung around the chamber lit up, illuminating the room with an oddly warm glow. Off in the distance the faint sound of trickling water could be heard and it gave the whole place a rather breakable feeling. 

“Is that Slytherin’s monster?” Pucey asked breathlessly, eyes taking in the enormous snake that lay dead on the ground. “The one you and your brother killed?”

Again, Rose nodded and the two couldn’t help but share a look. Yeah, they knew the Potter twins had quite the reputation, but just thinking of the two tiny second-years from last year… killing this beast was… hard to imagine. 

They could see one of its teeth were missing and the spots where its eyes should be were empty with scratches around the edges. The ones who had been petrified by it were not kidding, the head alone was about the height of the Groundskeeper's dog when it stood on its hind legs.

While the two remained still in front of the basilisk’s body, Rose made her way to an open area where she quickly dried the ground with her wand, her footsteps echoing as she went, and then turned to face them once more. She gestured for Marcus to stand across from her and waved her wand in a silent explanation.

Marcus slowly realized what she wanted, bringing out his own wand slowly. “You want to duel.”

Rose nodded yet again, a slight smirk on her face. She wasn’t a fan of having an achievement handed to her, years of watching Dudley do just that had her repulsed at the very thought. If she was going to be the head of the Slytherin Hierarchy then she wanted to earn it and if she couldn’t beat Marcus then he should keep his position.

Don’t get her wrong, Rose wasn’t particularly interested in being the Head of the Hierarchy — at least not in the sense of having power. She had no desire to have anyone following her around or making people do what she wanted. She merely liked the idea of lording this over Malfoy in their later years, it would be a pleasant comeuppance for the years he spent bullying her brother. 

It was also likely to be extra insurance for people to leave her alone once Marcus graduated.

So, Rose would duel for the spot, on the principle of it all more so than anything else. As Pucey stepped off to the side where he’d be out of the way, but still close enough to bear witness to the duel as per tradition, Marcus gripped his wand more firmly and moved to stand across from Rose until they were about ten feet apart.

“Remember Lockhart’s teachings?” Marcus asked teasingly, well aware that Rose had loathed the self-obsessed man.

Shooting Marcus an unamused look, Rose bowed forward in time with the older boy. As soon as they stood straight Marcus shot off a spell that she quickly defended against. It was a straightforward duel after that, the two stepping forward and back as they moved in time with their attacks and defences. Rose shot off a spell. Marcus quickly shot back another. Two steps to dodge. One lunge forward. As Rose shot off another spell that shot forth a bunch of birds, she reached out with her free hand and curled it into a fist, pulling it towards herself sharply.

Marcus, about to cast another spell, was stopped when he suddenly felt a yank on his ankle and he hit the solid stone ground. Hard. His wand clattered out of his hand and even as he tried to pull some air into his lungs, he reached out for it.

Rose quickly flattened out her free hand, pinning Marcus’s arm to the ground and then summoned his wand to herself. Just before it smacked into her empty hand, she released Marcus’s arm, smiling and feeling rather pleased.

Marcus pushed himself up to a sitting position with a faint laugh, not looking surprised, but instead slightly impressed. “You know wandless magic?”

Moving towards him with a raised brow, Rose held out his wand to him. As he stood to grab the wand, Marcus grinned at the third-year, his normal serious face lightening dramatically at the action. “Why am I not surprised?” Glancing over at where Adrian was watching with wide eyes, Marcus looked back at Rose, his grin melting into a small smirk.

“Congrats, Potter. You’re definitely the one meant for this position.”

Defence Against the Dark Arts quickly became the class favourite for the vast majority of the school. The exception being, of course, Draco Malfoy and his usual crew of Slytherins. They were the only ones in the House that ever had anything actively antagonistic to say about Professor Lupin. The older Slytherins were just pleased to have a competent teacher as they came up on their O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. years.

Harry’s cautious liking to Arithmancy had quickly flourished into a love of the subject. He quickly grasped the general concept and was finding that the assignments weren’t as hard as he thought they’d be. 

That was especially great as Harry was finding Divination to be a rather torturous experience. The long tedious walk to the small smoke-filled classroom where Professor Trelawney would be ready to greet him with teary eyes, as though he would drop dead right before her. Harry already planned to drop the class at the end of the year and was beyond glad that Rose had made him sign up for three extracurricular classes.

Potions was another painful class. Ever since the boggart incident Snape had been more unpleasant than ever before. Something most people didn’t think was possible. Poor Neville was taking the brunt of his fury for his part in the whole thing and Snape would glare menacingly at Lupin anytime the man was within his line of sight.

Care of Magical Creatures had taken a rather sour turn. Hagrid, clearly disheartened by his disastrous first lesson, had them studying flubberworms from now on. The creatures had to be the most boring animals in existence.

Some positive news for Harry; Quidditch season was now due to start. Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain, was more determined than ever to get their house a win. He was now in his seventh year and this would be his last shot at the Quidditch Cup and the team started training sessions three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, brought along with the dementors that constantly roamed Hogwarts skies and grounds, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could deter the team.

The first Hogsmeade trip had been announced recently and pulled down Harry’s rather high spirits. In all the commotion of what happened the night he and Rose had left Privet Drive they never did get their uncle to sign their permission slips.

Hogsmeade was a small village not too far from Hogwarts that had various shops that students could buy things from. It was apparently a must see in the magical world, as famous as Diagon Alley itself.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to go to the next one,” Hermione was quick to reassure Harry. “They’re bound to catch Black soon.

When Ron encouraged Harry to ask McGonagall to sign the permission slip for them, Hermione was quick to scold the boy. Luckily— or perhaps unluckily— before an argument could break out Crookshanks made an appearance and quickly went after Scabbers with a vengeance.

The large orange cat seemed to be quite taken with Ron’s pet rat. Taking a swipe at him whenever the opportunity would present itself. Hermione remained forever stubborn that cats ‘just did that’ and it was not his fault, while Ron remained indignant at Hermione’s complete lack of regard for his old family pet. The whole thing was causing bitterness to stir up in other conversations they would have, resulting in Rose spending more time in the library rather than with either one of them and Harry awkwardly trying not to pick sides.

Harry did manage to work up the courage to ask Professor McGonagall if she could sign his and his sister's permission slips but the woman denied the request with a faintly pity-filled expression on her face.

So, on the morning of Halloween, Harry and Rose saw their friends off, watching as groups of students made the trek towards Hogsmeade.

“We’ll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes,” Hermione promised, looking desperately sorry for the two of them.

“Yeah, loads,” Ron was quick to agree. He and Hermione had finally forgotten their squabble about Crookshanks in the face of the twin’s difficulties.

“Don’t worry about us,” Harry said in what he hoped was an offhand voice, “we’ll see you at the feast. Have a good time.”

Rose reached down to grab hold of her brother’s hand, squeezing it once in comfort. She was a bit disappointed about not being able to go to Hogsmeade, mainly for the fact that she’d love to see what the place had to offer, but she did like the idea of having the castle mostly empty. She knew her brother was very disappointed though, not needing to look at him to know his brow would have that slight furrow it always got when he was let down.

“Staying here, Potter?” Malfoy shouted as they made their way out, standing with Crabbe and Goyle. “Scared of passing the dementors?”

Harry ignored him and tugged Rose alongside him up the marble staircase and through the deserted corridors. He and Rose roamed about with no particular place in mind. Rose had suggested the library at one point but Harry didn’t feel like working today so she kept walking around with him. They ran into Filch not long after that and the grouchy man ranted irritably at them and told them to go back to their common rooms. 

But they didn’t go back to their common rooms; instead they climbed another staircase, Harry thinking vaguely of visiting the Owlery to see Hedwig and were walking along another corridor, when a voice rang out from one of the rooms. “Harry? Rose?”

The two turned back around to see who had called them and met Professor Lupin, looking around his office door.

“What are the two of you doing?” The man asked in a voice far kinder than Filch’s. “Where are Ron and Hermione?”

“Hogsmeade,” Harry informed the man in a would-be casual voice.

“Ah,” Lupin said. He eyed the two of them for a moment, clearly coming to a decision. “Why don’t you come in? I’ve just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson.”

Harry shared a glance with Rose, who had a rather indifferent expression on her face, before asking Lupin. “A what?”

Following Lupin into his office the twins immediately spotted a very large tank of water. Inside a sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers. Rose stepped closer to the tank at once, barely listening as Lupin explained the creature to Harry. She had read about the creatures sometime last year. While fairly interesting, Rose didn’t spend too much time researching anything further than how one would defend oneself against it.

"Cup of tea?” Lupin asked the two of them, looking around for his kettle. “I was just thinking of making one.”

Harry spared a glance at his sister who was still looking at the tank, her gaze flickering over to him as though she sensed his look. “All right,” Harry said awkwardly to Lupin, sending a half-hearted scowl at Rose as he saw her mouth twitch with amusement. It’s not his fault he sounded awkward, not one of their professors invited them for tea before, how was he supposed to act?

Finally turning her attention away from the creature in the tank, Harry and Rose watched as Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.

“Have a seat,” Lupin said pleasantly, taking the lid off a dusty tin. “I’ve only got teabags, I'm afraid– but I daresay you’ve had enough of tea leaves?”

Rose was hard pressed not to laugh as Harry looked at a twinkly eyed Lupin.

“How did you know about that?” Harry asked.

“Professor McGonagall told me,” Lupin informed him, passing Harry a chipped mug of tea and then another to Rose. “You’re not worried, are you?”

“No,” Harry told him. “I actually can’t wait to be done with the class.”

“You’re going to drop the class?” Lupin assumed.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Luckily Ro’ made me sign up for more than two classes.” He said with a laugh, sending a faintly grateful smile at his sister. Rose simply inclined her head in acknowledgement as she raised her teacup to take a sip.

“Yes, I always found it was best to keep your options open.” Lupin said easily. “What extra courses are you taking?”

“We’re both taking Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy, and I’m also taking Divination, obviously, and Ro’ is taking Ancient Runes.”

Lupin hummed in understanding as he had a sip of his drink.

Harry glanced about the room as the trio lapsed into silence and his gaze landed on the numerous textbooks that were scattered around the teacher's desk. Harry had to admit, compared to their other Defence Against the Dark Arts professors, Lupin was top tier. Most of the school already felt like they learnt more from him than the last two teachers combined. Harry thought back to their first lesson with the man and he wondered again why the man hadn’t let him try to go against the boggart.

Something of Harry’s thoughts seemed to have shown on his face because Lupin asked.

“Anything worrying you, Harry?”

“No,” Harry lied, earning himself a look from his sister. He drank a bit of tea and watched the grindylow brandish a fist at him. “Yes,” he said suddenly, putting his tea down on Lupin’s desk. “You know that day we fought the boggart?”

“Yes,” Lupin said slowly.

“Why didn’t you let me fight it?” Harry asked firmly.

Lupin raised his eyebrows.

“I would like to remind you that there was more than just you who did not get a chance to fight it,” Lupin said calmly.

Pursing his lips Harry stubbornly asked again.

“I would have thought that was obvious, Harry,” Lupin finally said, sounding surprised.

Harry was taken aback, his mind already trying to summon the answer but coming up blank. He glanced over at Rose for an answer but when he caught her eye, she just raised a brow, making him huff.

“Why?” Harry asked Lupin.

“Well,” Lupin said, a slight frown on his face. “I assumed that if the boggart faced you, or your sister, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort.”

Harry stared. The answer he got wasn’t one he expected to hear but he was also shocked at Lupin’s use of Voldemort’s name. Even Rose couldn’t fully mask her surprise at the man’s casual use of it. The only person the twins have heard say it out loud was Professor Dumbledore. Not counting Hagrid spitting the name out the first time he told the twins about their parents.

“Clearly, I was wrong,” Lupin realized as he eyed the twins. “But I didn’t think it was a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagine that would have stirred quite the panic.”

“I didn’t think of Voldemort,” Harry said honestly. “I— I remembered those dementors.”

“I see,” Lupin said thoughtfully. “Well, well... I’m impressed.” He smiled slightly as a look of surprise appeared on Harry’s face. “That suggests that what you fear most of all is— fear. Very wise, Harry.” He looked over at Rose. “I wonder,” he mused quietly, “if this is the same for the both of you.”

Harry looked over at his sister who stared back at their professor impassively. He honestly couldn’t say with full certainty what Rose’s boggart would be. He knew she did not like the dementors but he didn’t think she feared the beings enough for them to be her boggart.

Rose had a line of thought similar to her brothers. The dementors did leave her feeling weak and cold, but she resented the feeling more than she feared it. Honestly, the only thing that well and truly scared her was not having her brother and she had no desire to see how a boggart would depict that fear.

Sensing Rose had no desire to continue the current line of conversation, Lupin looked over at Harry shrewdly. “So, you’ve been thinking that I didn’t believe you capable of fighting the boggart?”

“Well… yeah,” Harry said. He was suddenly feeling a lot happier. “Professor Lupin, you know the dementors—”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Lupin called.

The door opened, and the twins were both shocked when in came— Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry and Rose, his black eyes narrowing.

“Ah, Severus,” Lupin said easily, a smile on his face. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?”

Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between the twins and Lupin.

“I was just showing Harry and Rose my grindylow,” Lupin told him pleasantly, pointing at the tank.

“Fascinating,” Snape said flatly, without looking at it. “You should drink that directly, Lupin.”

“Yes, Yes, I will,” Lupin said.

“I made an entire cauldronful,” Snape continued. “If you need more.”

“I should probably have some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.”

“Not at all,” Snape said, but there was a look in his eye Harry didn’t like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.

Harry and Rose shared a look, and Harry stared curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled.

“Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me,” he told them. “I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex.” He picked up the goblet and sniffed it.

“Pity sugar makes it useless,” he added, taking a sip and shuddering.

“Why—?” Harry began before cutting himself off. Lupin looked at him and answered the unfinished question.

“I’ve been feeling a bit off-colour,” he said. “This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren’t many wizards who are up to making it.”

Professor Lupin took another sip and Harry had a crazy urge to knock the goblet out of his hands.

“Professor Snape’s very interested in the Dark Arts,” he blurted out.

As Lupin asked, “really?” Rose stared at the side of her brother’s face while Harry avoided looking her way. Harry stared on as Lupin took another gulp of potion.

“Some people reckon—” Harry hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, “some people reckon he’d do anything to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job.”

While Rose could understand Harry’s worry, Merlin knew how much of a bleeding heart he could be, she didn’t think it was all that needed at the moment. Snape, although a heinous excuse for a human being, wasn’t stupid. At least not in some respects. Nor was he so Gryffindorish that he’d poison an obvious rival in front of two students, never mind ones with a reputation as famous as theirs.

Odds are, Lupin was being honest about his illness and truly needed the Potion Master's assistance. Although, given the glares he had been throwing Lupin, Rose would bet good money that Snape had been ordered to make the potion by the headmaster.

Lupin drained the goblet and pulled a face.

“Disgusting,” he said. “Well, Harry, Rose, I’d better get back to work. See you at the feast later.”

“Right,” Harry said, putting down his empty teacup. Rose stood even as her brother hesitated to move and, reaching out to grab his hand, pulled Harry out of the classroom with her. Harry’s gaze was hard to pull from the tabletop they had just vacated.

The empty goblet was still smoking.

The twins wound up in the library, one of the few places that the two could sit around together without having to deal with those passing by staring at them and whispering loudly; Madam Pince would throw out anyone who made any unnecessary noise. While the vast majority of Hogwarts got used to their presence for the most part there were still the fair few who gossiped about them.

They were still in the library when Ron and Hermione returned, pink cheeked and smiling.

Ron dropped an assortment of brightly coloured sweets on the desk the twins sat at, looking pleased with himself. After Harry asked how Hogsmeade was and where they went, the twins listened on as Ron and Hermione regaled them with their day’s adventures. Rose wasn’t particularly interested in the talk of sweets and, while she did find the wizarding version of a post office mildly interesting, the talk of owls and how they flew wasn’t all that stimulating. All in all, Rose didn’t really feel as though she and her brother missed out a whole lot.

Although, judging by the barely concealed look of envy on his face, Harry clearly didn’t share her sentiment.

Rose was rather grateful when Hermione hesitantly asked the two of them what they did, she knew her brother would be eager to share his tale about Professor Lupin and Snape.

“Lupin drank it?” Ron gasped. “Is he mad?”

Hermione glanced down at her watch as Ron goggled at Harry.

“We better get going,” she told them. “The feast’ll be starting in five minutes.” Stashing their items away, the group began to make their way through the halls, three of them still discussing Snape. Rose was glad Hermione, hesitant as she may be about the topic, shared her opinion on the likeliness of Snape poisoning Lupin with her and Harry around.

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry reluctantly agreed with the bushy haired girl as they reached the entrance way and crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes. Harry shot his sister one last glance as she parted ways with the three Gryffindors, making her way over to the Slytherin table where she’d usually sit this year.

The food was delicious; even Hermione and Ron, who were full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything. Harry kept glancing at the head table. Professor Lupin looked cheerful and as well as he ever did; he was talking animatedly to tiny little Professor Flitwick. Harry moved his eyes along the table, to the place where Snape sat. Was he imagining it, or were Snape’s eyes flickering toward Lupin more often than was natural?

All the older kids were abuzz with energy after their journey to Hogsmeade, the younger ones eagerly asking their friends what it was like, and the ghosts’ entertainment at the end of the feast left everyone feeling pretty cheerful. Not even Draco Malfoy’s taunts toward Harry about the dementors could bring down Harry’s mood. All in all, despite the rather rough start for Harry, it turned out to be a rather pleasant day.

That evening, the Gryffindors returned to Gryffindor Tower only to find their portrait guardian missing and the entrance way torn to shreds.

Sirius Black had broken into Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

The Gryffindor students were quickly ushered back into the Great Hall upon the discovery of the Fat Lady’s portrait and the reveal of who damaged it, they were soon joined by the students from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, each one of them with varying levels of confusion on their faces.

“The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle,” Professor Dumbledore told them as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the Prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately,” he added to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important. “Send word with one of the ghosts.”

Professor Dumbledore turned to leave and then paused. “Oh, yes, you’ll be needing...”

One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

“Sleep well,” he called as he closed the doors behind him.

The second the door shut the hall was alit with whispers as the Gryffindors excitedly informed the other students about what happened. Percy quickly called for everyone to head to sleep but his orders for no more talking fell on deaf ears.

Harry quickly went to find Rose as Ron and Hermione grabbed hold of two sleeping bags each, gesturing over to another area as Harry left. He knew she’d want to know as soon as possible about what happened and honestly if they had to sleep out in the open with everyone at school then he wanted her nearby. Not because Black was apparently in the castle— Harry still wasn’t convinced about the danger of the guy, though Black actually getting into the castle was rather nerve wracking— but because at least in the Slytherin dorms Rose was safe in her own room. Harry didn’t want her stuck on the floor surrounded by Malfoy and his crowd of goons, who knew what they might try to pull.

When Harry finally found his sister, she was standing next to Marcus Flint and another Slytherin that Harry was sure was named Pucey; he was on the Slytherin Quidditch team, if Harry remembered correctly. Marching on over, pointedly ignoring any stares from the surrounding Slytherins, Harry grabbed hold of Rose’s hand.

She turned at once, not surprised in the slightest to see her brother's determined face standing by, and lifted a brow at him in question, squeezing his hand once.

“What’s going on, Potter?” Flint asked Harry evenly, no sign of derision on his face at the sight of the Gryffindor.

Harry wasn’t all that sure about Slytherins, what with his experiences with Malfoy, but he had to admit they weren’t all bad. Flint was a good friend to his sister, and was always willing to lend her books, some of which he knew had to be rather expensive given how Rose would handle them. The Slytherin Captain, while fiercely competitive on the pitch, always treated Harry rather fairly given their House's animosity for one another.

“Sirius Black tried to break into Gryffindor Tower,” Harry answered the boy quietly, his gaze flickering to him for only a second and then going back to his sister. He squeezed her hand in turn and gestured with his chin towards where Ron and Hermione said they would be.

His answer had the two Slytherin boy’s starting slightly, definitely not what they were expecting to hear. Although they couldn’t even tell you what they were expecting to hear, since the Potter twins got to Hogwarts, it could have been anything. Flint looked confused; his brow furrowed as he tried to piece together this newest mystery. Pucey on the other hand, had no look of confusion on his face, his eyes darting from Harry to Rose and then to the floor as his face turned blank.

Harry tugged once more on his sister's hand, stepping backward in the direction their friends had headed off to. Rose shared one last look with Flint before, much to Harry’s relief, moving along with her brother.

As the twins made their way through the throng of students lying on the floor of the Great Hall, they could hear the whispered theories each one had for how Sirius Black got into Hogwarts.

“Maybe he knows how to Apparate,” a Ravenclaw said a few feet away. “Just appear out of thin air, you know.”

“Disguised himself, probably,” a Hufflepuff fifth-year said.

“He could’ve flown in,” Dean Thomas suggested.

“Honestly, am I the only person who’s ever bothered to read Hogwarts, A History?” Hermione was whispering crossly to Ron as they reached them.

"Ro’ has,” Ron said in consolation. “Why?”

The two looked up at Harry and Rose then and Ron gestured grandly to their sleeping bags on the ground next to his and Hermione’s. Rose resisted the urge to smile at the boy’s antics and quietly said. “You can’t Apparate in Hogwarts.”

Hermione thrusted a hand out in Rose’s direction. “Exactly!” She shouted in a whisper. “The castle’s protected by more than walls, you know. There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can’t just Apparate in here. And I’d like to see the disguise that could fool those dementors. They’re guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They’d have seen him fly in too. And Filch knows all the secret passages, they’ll have them covered…”

Percy cut in before Hermione could go on disproving each whispered theory they overheard. “Alright! Lights are going off now!” He shouted over the whispers. “I want everyone to go to sleep! No more talking!”

Ron rolled his eyes at his brother’s orders. “Merlin, Percy’s probably having the time of his life,” he complained as he rolled onto his back to get more comfortable. 

All the candles in the Great Hall went out at once and the only light available now came from the faint glow that the Hogwarts ghosts gave off and from the enchanted ceiling which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars. Little by little the whispers of voices slowly tapered off as— even in the face of Black’s shocking appearance in the castle— everyone began to fall asleep.

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent much of their next Herbology class telling anyone who’d listen that Black could turn into a flowering shrub.

Harry replayed the conversation the four of them had overheard between Dumbledore, Snape, and Percy with Rose multiple times. He couldn’t help but wonder what Snape’s theory was for how Black got in and why Dumbledore seemed so coldly dismissive of it. Rose had grown tired of it already and frankly she didn’t consider Snape of all people to be at all a reliable source of information. The man was immensely biased with his emotions and had obvious trouble separating the truth from them.

He was a bit of a contradiction for a Slytherin from what Rose had seen. He could hide his emotions and feelings with the best of them and yet when it came to anger and animosity the man could not, for the life of him, hold his tongue or conceal his feelings. Lupin was just a prime example of that. While it was not known what happened between the two, it was far too obvious that Snape hated the man. Just as it was obvious that Snape hated her and Harry.

Yet when it came to other emotions, you’d be fairly lost when it came to Severus Snape. Rose knew the man had a fondness for Malfoy, one that she only realized after Marcus had told her that the Potion Master was Draco Malfoy’s godfather. His favouritism was clear, no doubt, but most could put that up to the fact that Malfoy was a Slytherin rather than anything else. It was only during their second year that she learned the extent of it all when Marcus had informed her of their relationship after he saw her glancing at the two in silent contemplation.

When it came down to it Rose knew if the emotions were rather negative it was best not to take Snape’s words for face value.

In other news, the Fat Lady’s ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat grey pony. None of the Gryffindors were very happy about this. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day.

Harry and Ron had a lot to say about this, much to Rose’s growing amusement.

In a less amusing turn of events, Rose and Harry were now being closely watched by the Hogwarts professors. Each one of them finding excuses to walk with the two between classes and Percy Weasley was turning into an extremely pompous guard dog. Although, more with Harry than Rose, as the Slytherins she kept company with tended to have him maintaining a fair distance. 

Thank Merlin.

Professor McGonagall even called the two of them to her office, likely to inform them that Sirius Black was out for their blood if they were to go by the intensely somber expression on her face when they arrived.

Rose vaguely wondered if Snape had told McGonagall to tell them both at the same time— it was something that would be best to say to them together— instead of Snape having to bring Rose to his office and do that sort of thing there.

Either way, Harry quickly cut to the chase, his hand clenching around his sister’s hand.

“We know he’s after us,” Harry informed her wearily. “I heard Ron’s dad telling his mum. Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry of Magic.”

Professor McGonagall seemed very taken aback and she stared between the two for a moment or two. “I see! Well, in that case, Potter, Harry, you’ll understand why I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be practicing Quidditch in the evenings.”

Oh, that’s not going to go over well, Rose thought.

“Out on the field with only your team members, it’s very exposed, Potter—”

“We’ve got our first match on Saturday!” Harry cried out, outraged. “I’ve got to train, Professor!”

Professor McGonagall considered him intently. Harry knew she was deeply interested in the Gryffindor team’s prospects; it had been she, after all, who’d suggested him as Seeker in the first place. He waited, holding his breath, his hand squeezing Rose’s tightly.

“Hmm…” Professor McGonagall stood up and stared out of the window at the Quidditch field, just visible through the rain. “Well… goodness knows, I’d like to see us win the Cup at last… but all the same, Potter… I’d be happier if a teacher were present. I’ll ask Madam Hooch to oversee your training sessions.”

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team was training harder than ever under the eye of Madam Hooch. Then, at their final training session before Saturday’s match, Oliver Wood gave his team some unwelcome news.

“Those slimy snakes!” Ron cried as Harry told them about the Slytherin team's change up with Hufflepuff. Immediately after saying it he shot Rose an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

Rose just smiled lightly and turned back to writing in her book, well used to Ron’s occasional foot-in-the-mouth comments and understanding the boy’s outrage at the moment.

“Malfoy’s clearly too scared to play you guys,” Hermione said hotly, indignant at the Slytherin team’s cowardice.

As the three Gryffindors ranted quietly to one another, Rose focused on her book. The news wasn’t surprising to her, Marcus had brought it up not too long ago, and while it could be considered a rather cowardly move in some circles, in others, it was downright sly.

The vast majority of Slytherin knew that Malfoy’s injury was not as grave as he liked to make it seem— Merlin knew they were sick of listening to him whine— but they knew how to seize an opportunity when it presented itself. Facts were facts, the Gryffindor team was a force to be reckoned with on a good day. Taking into account the horrid weather that had been surrounding Hogwarts lately, it was no wonder the Slytherin team didn’t want to play the match.

Mind you Rose was certain they’d lose either way, Harry was a far better seeker than Malfoy, something even Marcus could admit, but at least it would be a closer match on a nicer day.

The day before the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match was a truly ugly one. A storm raged on outside, the distant sounds of thunder rumbling throughout the school. To make matters worse, Professor Lupin was apparently out sick, and Snape of all people was filling in his class.

Rose resisted the urge to sigh as she walked into class and saw the man. No doubt this would get Harry’s theories of Snape poisoning Lupin stirring again.

Regardless, she treated the class like she treated every other class. Sitting silently by her brother, she got out her books and stared blankly ahead as she waited for things to begin. No doubt the Gryffindors would question the man’s presence, and Lupin's lack of presence, and Snape would have to throw in his insults.

She had to wonder what it was that Snape had on Dumbledore— or perhaps Dumbledore had something on Snape?— because she had never seen a teacher so horrid with children in her entire life. The man clearly hated his job and yet he stuck around, going out of his way to make sure the children he was surrounded with were as miserable with life as he was.

Rose clenched her jaw as Snape called Hermione a know-it-all. True as it may be at times, the man still had no right to treat a student, a child, that way.

Ignoring the insult, and boy was that hard to do, Rose couldn’t help but ponder Snape's insistence on teaching them about werewolves. True it was something they needed to be taught, but she figured it would be obvious to the Hogwarts staff how lacking the previous professors were and that Lupin would need to work on getting them all caught up to the third-year curriculum. Not to mention that werewolves were one of the very last topics to be taught in their third year.

The man clearly picked this topic for a reason and what other reason than to rankle Lupin? The question though, was why would it bother the man?

Nearly everyone was relieved when the class ended and they were allowed to leave, although not before Snape assigned them homework and kept Ron back to organize the detention the redhead earned himself for sticking up for Hermione.

Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day.

Rose Potter was getting sick of being in the Medical Wing. Whether it was for herself or, more importantly, for her brother.

The match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff was a truly awful one. If the weather wasn’t bad enough, the dementors decided to make an appearance and Harry had the same reaction he had before. Watching her brother fall from the sky, body limp and still, was a horrifying experience for Rose. She had been on the verge of passing out herself, a ringing voice in her ears, when multiple brightly lit animals raced to the sky. Ron had just barely managed to hold her up as Hermione fearfully watched Harry fall.

In the fall Harry had lost his broomstick, something Rose knew would crush his spirits as soon as he was told. The Gryffindor team, Rose, Ron, and Hermione had made their way to the Medical Wing as soon as Harry was taken off the pitch.

Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff’s Captain and Seeker, had caught the Snitch just before Harry fell so the match had been over. Diggory’s attempt at a rematch, citing it an unfair win, was not accepted and even the Quidditch crazed Oliver Wood had to admit that Hufflepuffs earned their win.

The group had waited for Harry to rouse, Ron subtly supporting Rose with one arm while Hermione shoved some piece of chocolate into her hand, and when Harry had they quietly informed him of what happened.

Like Rose thought, Harry was crushed.

When everyone was shuffled out of the Medical Wing, Rose shared a look with her brother, neither one needing to use words to acknowledge the voice they heard when the dementors came near. Reaching out, Rose grabbed Harry’s hand, holding it tightly before making her exit.

Harry was beyond upset. Not only was he distraught over losing his broom and losing the match for the team, he was also embarrassed over his reaction to the dementors, something an entire stadium full of people got a front row seat to; then there was the Grim.

Harry hadn’t bothered telling Ron or Hermione about the Grim he saw at the match; he knew exactly how the two would react; Ron would freak out and Hermione would scoff. The first time he had Rose alone though, he told his sister. Rose had just stared at Harry intently for a few seconds, each of which felt like an eternity to Harry, before she nodded once.

Harry wasn’t sure why, but the action had the tightness in his chest easing slightly.

When Harry got back to classes Malfoy was beside himself with glee over the outcome of their match. He made sure to wave his arms, sling gone and arm now miraculously healed, in a mocking imitation of Harry during his fall. His actions had most the other third-year Slytherins snickering.

Malfoy also took great pleasure in making dementor imitations from across the dungeons throughout the entire Potions class. The whole act had Harry stewing for multiple reasons, the main one being that if the Gryffindors had done such a thing Snape would have drained all of their House points.

Small mercies do happen though; Professor Lupin was back in class, much to the glee of all the Gryffindors. It certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats and burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape’s behaviour while Lupin had been ill.

Lupin took it in stride, smiling lightly at the indignant complaints that met his ears.

With a promise that they would not have to do the essay, only Hermione having finished it, Lupin continued on with his lesson. It was a rather enjoyable one too; although, after Snape, any lesson would have been.

When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, Harry among them, but—

“Wait a moment, Harry,” Lupin called. “I’d like a word.”

With a quick wave to his sister, who had another class to go to after this one, Harry doubled back and watched Professor Lupin covering the hinkypunk’s— today’s creature to study— box with a cloth. “I heard about the match,” Lupin said evenly, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, “and I’m sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?”

“No,” Harry muttered. “The tree smashed it to bits.”

Lupin sighed. 

“They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance.”

“Did you hear about the dementors too?” Harry asked with difficulty.

Lupin looked at him quickly.

“Yes, I did. I don’t think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time… furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?”

“Yes,” Harry said. He hesitated and then the question he had to ask burst from him before he could stop himself. “Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—?”

“It has nothing to do with weakness,” Professor Lupin interrupted sharply, as though he had read Harry’s mind. “The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don’t have. Your sister as well.” A ray of wintry sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin’s grey hairs and the lines on his young face. “Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can’t see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself— soul-less and evil. You’ll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.”

“When they get near me—” Harry stared at Lupin’s desk, his throat tight. “I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum... Ro’ too.”

Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry’s shoulder but thought better of it. There was a moment’s silence, then—

“Why did they have to come to the match?” Harry asked bitterly.

“They’re getting hungry,” Lupin said coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. “Dumbledore won’t let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up… I don’t think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement… emotions running high… it was their idea of a feast.”

“Azkaban must be terrible,” Harry muttered. Lupin nodded grimly.

“The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don’t need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they’re all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheery thought. Most of them go mad within weeks.”

“But Sirius Black escaped from them,” Harry said slowly. “He got away…”

Lupin’s briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it.

“Yes,” he said, straightening up, “Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn’t have believed it possible… Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long…”

Harry hesitated, before bringing up a topic that had been on his mind for a while. “Ro’ said that there is a spell to keep them away... you used it on the train to get rid of that dementor.”

“There are— certain defences one can use,” Lupin agreed slowly. “But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist.”

“Can you teach it to me?” Harry asked.

“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry— quite the contrary…”

“But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them—”

Lupin looked into Harry’s determined face, hesitated, then said, “Well… all right. I’ll try and help. But it’ll have to wait until next term, I’m afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill.”

Feeling a bit lighter, Harry left the classroom. He couldn’t wait to tell Rose, he knew she would be eager to join them, always ready to learn something new. She may have read about it, but Harry knew she’d much rather see a practical demonstration.

Soon enough they were reaching the end of their first term. The sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost.

Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, the Charms professor, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Both Ron and Hermione had decided to remain at Hogwarts, and though Ron said it was because he couldn’t stand two weeks with Percy, and Hermione insisted she needed to use the library, Harry wasn’t fooled; they were doing it to keep him and Rose company, and he was very grateful.

On a more sour note, the next Hogsmeade trip had been announced. Harry was still very disheartened that he was unable to go to the small village, the odds of convincing McGonagall to let him now below zero since Black broke into Hogwarts.

Still, Harry plastered a smile on his face as he and Rose walked Ron and Hermione out to the main entrance way. At least Harry wasn’t totally alone, he thought, glancing over at his sister who was watching students walk by idly. The two waved their friends off and decided to wander around for a bit, heading up the marble staircase side-by-side.

“Psst— Harry! Rosie!”

The two turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George peering out at them from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked curiously, sharing a look with his sister. “How come you’re not going to Hogsmeade?”

“We’ve come to give the two of you a bit of festive cheer before we go,” Fred said, with a mysterious wink. “Come in here…”

He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. With one last shared glance, Harry shrugging with a faint smile, the twins followed Fred and George inside. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at Harry and Rose.

“Early Christmas present for the second-best twins at Hogwarts,” he said.

Harry rolled his eyes in amusement while Rose resisted the urge to smirk.

Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Harry, suspecting one of Fred and George’s jokes, stared at it.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“This, Harry, is the secret of our success,” George said, patting the parchment fondly.

Rose eyed the bit of parchment, wondering if the Weasley twins had finally lost it.

“It’s a wrench, giving it to you,” Fred told them, unperturbed by their lack of response. “But we decided last night, your needs are greater than ours.”

“Anyway, we know it by heart,” George admitted. “We bequeath it to you. We don’t really need it anymore.”

“And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?” Harry asked slowly.

“A bit of old parchment!” Fred cried, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. “Explain, George.”

“Well… when we were in our first year, Harry— young, carefree, and innocent—”

Even Rose couldn’t resist the urge to snort at that. There was little doubt as to whether Fred and George had ever been innocent.

“— well, more innocent than we are now— we got into a spot of bother with Filch.”

“We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason—”

“So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual—”

“— detention—”

“— disembowelment—”

“— and we couldn’t help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.”

“Don’t tell me—” Harry said, starting to grin.

“Well, what would you’ve done?” Fred asked rhetorically. “George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed— this.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, you know,” George explained. “We don’t reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn’t have confiscated it.”

“And you know how to work it?”

The two now had the younger twins undivided attention, Rose scanning the parchment carefully while Harry glanced between Fred, George, and the parchment.

“Oh yes,” Fred said, smirking. “This little beauty’s taught us more than all the teachers in this school.”

“You’re winding me up,” Harry said, looking at the ragged old bit of parchment.

“Oh, are we?” George asked. He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Harry and Rose watched avidly as at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider’s web from the point that George’s wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs 

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present 

THE MARAUDER’S MAP 

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry bent over it, Rose reaching out to nudge his head out of the way when he blocked her view. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker’s cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as Harry’s eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors, he noticed something else.

This map showed a set of passages he had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead—

“Right into Hogsmeade,” Fred pointed out, tracing one of them with his finger.

“There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four”— he pointed them out— “but we’re sure we’re the only ones who know about these. Don’t bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it’s caved in— completely blocked. And we don’t reckon anyone’s ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow’s planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We’ve used it loads of times. And as you might’ve noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone’s hump.”

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” George sighed, patting the heading of the map. “We owe them so much.”

“Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers,” Fred said solemnly.

Rose couldn’t wrap her mind around the ingenuity of this parchment. Not only was it able to recognize magical signatures by name, but it could also track their every movement. Her mind was whirring as she tried to think of what spells the creators had used, half wanting to take it apart just to see how it worked.

She was distantly amused by the seriousness the older twins had about the map, but couldn’t deny the appeal, especially for two troublemakers like them, in the map.

“Right,” George said briskly. “Don’t forget to wipe it after you’ve used it—”

“— or anyone can read it,” Fred said warningly.

“Just tap it again and say, ‘Mischief Managed!’ And it’ll go blank.”

“So, young Harry, young Rosie,” Fred said, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, “mind you behave yourselves.”

“See you in Honeydukes,” George said, winking.

They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.

Harry and Rose stood there for a few silent moments, gazing at the miraculous map. Harry watched as the tiny ink Mrs. Norris turned left and paused to sniff at something on the floor, while Rose eyed Dumbledore's still pacing form. If Filch really didn’t know… Harry wouldn’t have to pass the dementors at all…

But even as he stood there, flooded with excitement, something Harry had once heard Mr. Weasley say came floating out of his memory.

Never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.  

This map was one of those dangerous magical objects Mr. Weasley had been warning against… Aids for Magical Mischief Makers… but then, Harry reasoned, he only wanted to use it to get into Hogsmeade, it wasn’t as though he wanted to steal anything or attack anyone… and Fred and George had been using it for years without anything horrible happening…

Rose watched as Harry traced the secret passage to Honeydukes with his finger. She already knew what Harry was going to do, remaining quiet as he wrestled back and forth between what he wanted to do and what he felt he should do.

Harry looked over at his sister. “Do you wanna go to Hogsmeade?”

Eyeing her brother for a moment, Rose smiled. She shook her head and picked up the map, pressing it towards Harry with obvious orders.

Grinning, Harry grabbed hold of the map, rolling it up. “I’ll make sure to get a good look at everything for you,” he promised.

Rose huffed out a quiet laugh and urged her brother onwards towards the door. The two stopped to make sure the coast was clear before Harry ducked behind the statue of the one-eyed witch. Rose watched him go with a smile and then headed off towards the library.

While the idea of going to Hogsmeade was appealing, she had no desire to be forced to sneak about in order to do it. The two of them were noticeable enough on their own, when they were together it was basically just asking to be seen. So, Rose was fine with waiting until they could figure out a way to go to Hogsmeade without breaking any rules or causing a fuss. From the tales she’s heard already it wasn’t as though she was missing out on a whole lot. 

Harry was the more social of them— marginally so, but still— and he’d probably have a great time just hanging out with people and chatting. Neither of those things were entirely appealing to Rose, given that she didn’t talk and hanging out would be more of a nuisance considering all the crowds of students also looking to hang around the shops. 

Staying behind at Hogwarts was actually something Rose was happy doing. Walking through the mostly empty halls made for a relaxing pastime. The vast majority of students were now gone to Hogsmeade and the ones too young to go were no doubt waiting anxiously in their dorms for the older students to come back and regale them with tales of Hogsmeade. There were the occasional students here and there, ones who stayed behind to study or were just too tired out to make the trek to the nearby village.

So lost in thought, Rose didn’t notice Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey exiting the library, their brows furrowed as they spoke quietly to one another. Adrian's eyes flickered over to where Rose was approaching and he murmured something to Marcus quickly.

Marcus’s head shot in Rose’s direction at once, and he quickly strode over to her, making the girl start in surprise at his sudden appearance. She thought the two had left early this morning since she hadn’t seen them at breakfast and usually they were both early risers. 

“We need to talk,” he said in a low voice, his head tilted down as he spoke, causing his hair to fall forward in a way that would have obscured his eyes had Rose not been a good foot shorter than him.

Lifting one brow in question to his opening statement, Rose waited for him to continue, her mind already running through a list of things this could possibly be about.

Marcus shook his head as he glanced over at Adrian and reached out to lightly grab Rose’s elbow. “Not here,” he muttered as he began to urge her silently in the opposite direction of the library.

Rose followed along easily enough, curious about Marcus’s behaviour. The older boy was always rather put together and now he seemed downright unsettled. His hair was slightly more messy than normal, as though he had been running his hand through it repeatedly, and he was also tapping his index finger and thumb together in a quick tempo, something he had a tendency to do when he was stressed.

When they finally reached a rather secluded alcove, Marcus nodded over at Adrian who quickly took out his wand and began casting detection charms and security charms.

Not saying a word, Rose waited for Marcus to tell her what he needed to tell her. The boy was never one for dramatics— their first interaction with one another aside— so if he was going out of his way to make sure no one was listening then it had to be important.

When Adrian was done waving his wand, he stepped closer to Marcus and Rose, his hands behind his back twisting anxiously out of sight. His back remained straight though, his chin upright and his expression it’s usual almost glower.

Rose kept her eyes on Marcus through all this, watching as the boy swallowed once and his body stilled.

“It’s about Black.”

That wasn’t what Rose was expecting. She idly wondered if this was where the two tried to tell her that Black was out for her blood.

Marcus glanced back over at Adrian for a moment. “It’s also about your parents.”

Freezing, Rose kept her confusion at bay, not letting it show on her face. She wasn’t entirely sure what Black had to do with her parents, beyond that he was a loyal follower to the man that murdered them.

“Adrian’s father is on good terms with Lucius Malfoy,” Marcus told her slowly. “Lucius Malfoy basically has the Minister of Magic in his pocket; the bumbling man will tell Malfoy almost anything...”

When Marcus trailed off, Rose lifted a brow, silently telling him to continue.

“It was a bit of a surprise to... well, everyone, that Black turned out to be a follower of the Dark Lord.” Marcus sighed, his fingers picking up their nervous tapping against each other again.

“Black was considered a blood traitor in most circles. He was Sorted into Gryffindor and eventually ran away from his family all together.” Marcus stared at Rose firmly as he spoke, his face not giving away the nervousness that was thrumming through him. “Back in that day, everyone knew how close Sirius Black and James Potter were— like brothers they all said...”

Rose was striding through the halls of Hogwarts— her footsteps echoing in time with the sound of her heart pounding in her ears— heading straight to the statue of the one-eyed witch. She had to find Harry, she had to talk to him as soon as he came back. Her talk with Marcus had been... informative. The very thought of it still had anger thrumming through her veins.

She had long since abandoned thoughts surrounding her parents' deaths— mostly— having been able to vaguely come to terms with it. Then re-come to terms with it when she learnt the truth about what actually happened to them. For most of her life Rose’s parents were more of an abstract idea to her. When she thought of them, she didn’t think of them really; how could she when she never knew them? Never heard a single thing about them besides lies? What Rose— and Harry— thought about when her parents came to mind, was who she imagined them to be. 

The truth of the matter was it was hard to miss someone you never knew. What she missed more often than not was what might have been with them, but the two of them themselves—

It used to fill her with guilt that she didn’t mourn them the way people seemed to expect when they learnt they were orphans, the way the magical community seemed to expect when she and Harry reentered this world. But how could she truly mourn two strangers?

She was melancholic about James and Lily Potter, if Rose had to pick a word. It came out of nowhere at times, sometimes the most random occurrences stirred the feeling, but Rose would be hit with a sudden wave of sadness when she was met with a situation that would be so different if either one of them were still alive…

When it came down to it though, Rose could rationalise almost anything. It was an ability that kept her from being completely cold-hearted about everything, given her life. It was this ability that had Rose saying she even understood the event behind her parents’ deaths. War was war, people did die. Everyone fought for what they believed in and her parents just happened to be a fatality among many in that battle.

What she couldn’t accept was when someone would backstab the very people who trusted them above all else. She couldn’t accept someone standing by their side for years, becoming the godfather of both of their children, only to sell them out in the end.

Hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly, Rose took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart that was still thundering in her ears. She rushed down a flight of stairs and was relieved to find herself just one more turn from the one-eyed witch.

Harry needed to know. Merlin knew his bleeding heart would have him in a right fury once he found out but he still needed to know. Why not one single adult thought to tell them about this was beyond her. She was getting very tired of the adults surrounding them keeping secrets and lies about their lives. In her eyes it was no different than her sad excuse for relatives telling her and Harry that their parents died in a car crash.

Some of them may have had better intentions about it, but it was still withholding information that she and her brother had a right to know.

When Rose went to turn the last corner she slammed into someone heading the opposite way. Stumbling back a step, Rose blinked as her brother’s face came into focus, his identical green eyes widening slightly in surprise at seeing her before turning stony.

“We need to talk,” both twins said as one.

Chapter Text

Rose was right when she said Harry would be beside himself with fury over Sirius Black’s betrayal. After the two had bumped into one another he had immediately launched into an explanation/rant about what he had overheard.

Her heart ached for Harry, wishing now more than ever that she had gone with him to Hogsmeade, so she’d have been with him when he heard this for the first time.

What was done was done though. Harry, after getting everything out, had listened as Rose relayed what Marcus had told her. Harry had then dragged Rose up to Gryffindor Tower, not bothering to look to see if any other Gryffindors were around and dug out the photo album Hagrid had given them in their first year.

There he was.

The man standing next to their parents on their wedding day was not someone the twins wasted a lot of thoughts on. He looked very handsome, dressed impeccably with an easy grin on his face. It was hard to connect that man to the hollowed out looking man that now adorned every newspaper, magical and Muggle alike, in Britain.

The two were then joined by Ron and Hermione, both looking hesitant and shooting wary looks at Rose, unsure if she knew. Attempting to do what Rose did not bother, as she knew it was a futile endeavour right now, Ron and Hermione tried to calm Harry down. 

Needless to say, it did not go well and ended with Harry stalking out of Gryffindor Tower to Hagrid’s small hut on Hogwarts’ grounds. His attempt at releasing some anger was brought to an abrupt stall as, right as they arrived, Hagrid tearfully clung to Harry. After a moment of confusion, the sobbing half-giant then passed Harry a letter.

Buckbeak was getting a trial due to the insistence of Lucius Malfoy.

The conversation that followed was not any more pleasant than the one the four thought they were going to have but at least it distracted Harry from his anger, taking the wind right out of his sails. The four kids readily agreed to help Hagrid try and save Buckbeak; though, from her conversation with Marcus, Rose didn’t see a great likelihood of them succeeding.

Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armour, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron’s pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.

As with the years before, Harry spent Christmas Eve in Rose’s dorm and Christmas morning the two were greeted with the quickly becoming expected sight of some presents at the end of the large bed.

“Merry Christmas, Ro’!”

Rose gave her brother a smile as they slid down to the end of the bed. They each got their customary sweater from Mrs. Weasley as well as numerous baked goods that Harry started shuffling through. While Harry did that, Rose grabbed a small book-shaped brown package. For a second Rose thought it was from Hermione but dismissed it as she didn’t see her friend’s name anywhere on the package. In fact, it didn’t even have a card.

Tearing off the packaging, Rose uncovered a decent sized notebook. It was dark green, almost black really, and in the centre it had some sort of crest. The thing was washed out, bits of it missing entirely, but Rose could make out what appeared to be three ravens just below the centre and a faded banner beneath them too deteriorated to read. Just above that she spotted what she thought was a hand that was clutching what she assumed was a sword. Despite its rather haggard cover, the rest of the book seemed to be in good condition.

Rose opened it up to the first page and saw faded writing inscribed on the inside of the cover.

A Journal for the inquisitive philosophers of the world. 

Study, learn, and write. Open the book with your topic of study in mind and your pages will be revealed. All your research in one place, easy to access, ready to use. When you find a new topic, close the book and think of a fresh start. 

Limitless studies of knowledge await!

Brows furrowed; Rose glanced over at the blank page waiting to be written on. Looking over at her desk where a quill stood waiting to be used, she summoned it to herself. At the top of the page, she wrote: Wizarding Law. Shutting the book, she thought of another topic she planned to start writing about— Wizarding Customs. Opening the book, she was greeted with a blank first page and she slowly wrote her title. Closing it once more she thought back to wizarding law and opened the book again; there, at the top of the page, was her wizarding law title.

Rose felt a smile grow on her face. What an ingenious creation. Merlin knew she went through more notebooks than the average person and constantly had to keep multiple books in her bag in case she had a new idea or something to add to one topic or another. Now it would all be here in this book, ready for her to write in. She was already thinking of some past studies that she had in other notebooks that she wanted to rewrite in this book, so they’d be more at hand.

“I don’t believe it,” Harry suddenly said hoarsely.

Head turning, Rose looked down at the object that had rolled out onto the bed out of brown packaging similar to the one wrapped around the book. Rose didn’t need to ask what it was, Harry had dragged her to the broomstick shop in Diagon Alley multiple times throughout the summer, always eager to go look at the newest, top-of-the-line, broom.

A Firebolt. 

The handle glittered as Harry picked it up. Rose could see it vibrating slightly and then Harry let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. The twins’ eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

Who had gotten Harry a Firebolt?

“Is there a card?” Rose asked quietly, already feeling like there wouldn’t be.

Harry tore through the wrapping paper and came up empty.

“I can’t believe this,” Harry muttered gleefully. He jumped out of the bed, pulling the broom towards himself.

Rose’s mind was whirring. The Firebolt was the most expensive broom on the market and while they had quite the pile of gold sitting in their vault, there was no way Rose would let Harry buy one. Even Harry, who quite obviously adored the thing, wouldn’t spend that much to buy it.

But who would buy him one? They didn’t have any relatives in the wizarding world; Merlin knew the Dursleys would choke and die before spending more than a pound on them. She thought over the people who had a semi-friendly relationship with her brother and she couldn’t imagine even one of them dropping this kind of cash on Harry. Even Dumbledore, as much as he obviously wanted to be in their favour, or Harry’s favour, wouldn’t buy him something like this.

“I gotta go show Ron!” Harry said excitedly.

Despite the mystery surrounding Harry’s new broom, Rose couldn’t help but grin at the pure joy on her brother’s face. Not bothering to change, the boy rushed out of the room, calling out, “see you at lunch!” as he went.

Shaking her head, Rose began to clean up the small mess the two of them had made. After throwing the wrapping paper into the small wastebasket by her desk she placed a stasis charm on the food so it would last and then folded up their sweaters neatly. She placed them in one of the compartments in her trunk and then picked up her book.

Rose had never come across such a thing in all her research. Even when she was in Diagon Alley she hadn’t seen anything like it, and she knew she scoured every inch of that place. Her mind kept going back to the crest, wondering what it meant exactly. Was it just the creator's crest?

Shaking the thoughts from her mind for now, she placed the book in the drawer of her bedside table and got ready for the day. She knew she could take her time; she highly doubted her brother and Ron would be able to tear themselves away from the broom before breakfast was over. So, like Harry said, they’d meet up for lunch.

Lunch was a disaster.

Well, no—

Lunch was bearable; although having to listen to Professor Trelawney try and predict things had been tiresome but on the plus side Professor McGonagall’s responding quips had been very amusing.

The disaster came after lunch. Harry and Ron had immediately rushed up to the Gryffindor dorms to get another look at Harry’s new Firebolt and the two had been sitting around admiring the broom from every possible angle until Professor McGonagall came striding in accompanied by Hermione.

Long story short, Harry’s broom had been confiscated and was now going to be stripped down for any sign of foul play— Rose was beyond glad that she hadn’t told the group about her new book from ‘no one’— and now Harry and Ron were pissed at Hermione.

Hermione remained stubborn in the fact that she was sure the broom had come from Sirius Black and was hexed in some sort of way. Ron remained stubborn in the fact that Hermione ratted them out to a professor. Harry was upset too, which Rose had to admit was rather new, Harry typically only held anger for their relatives, Snape, and Malfoy (plus his little posse of Slytherins).

She knew Harry was worried about his Firebolt being damaged beyond repair by the professors scanning it and Rose tried to assure him that it would work just as well after everything was done; even going so far as to explain the theory behind anti-jinx spells.

Harry wasn’t as appreciative about that as she thought he should have been but she’d let it slide.

Hermione was now avoiding the Gryffindor Tower, more specifically Harry and Ron, and now spent most of her time in the library alone. Rose would see her there from time to time but did not go out of her way to talk to the bushy-haired girl. She could see the reasoning behind Hermione’s actions but the fact that she went behind her brother’s back and refused to show any form of regret or remorse for doing so had Rose taking a step back, physically and mentally, from her.

Rose wasn’t so lost in her logical thinking not to realize she was a bit of a cynic. She was beyond certain that the only person she could depend on was her brother and had been certain of that for years. She had reluctantly made room for Ron and Hermione, the two proving to be very loyal friends over the years, but she had unconsciously been waiting for either one of them to betray her or Harry in some way.

Usually being proven right felt better than this.

Perhaps she was being too harsh but in her experience it was only a matter of time before people disappointed you. It happened every time. She didn’t mention this often to Harry. In fact, the last time she did was at the beginning of this year. Harry had told her at the time that perhaps the reason it felt like people kept disappointing them was because Rose kept looking for them to do it.

Rose didn’t bother replying and hadn’t said another word until Halloween.

Either way, Rose wasn’t spending any time with Hermione, nor was she inclined to sit around and listen to Ron go on about Hermione betraying them, so she was in the Slytherin common room, sitting in front of the main fireplace.

The Slytherin House had more people going through it now as the winter holidays came to an end and the new term approached. Most Slytherin’s left her to her own devices, as per the norm, it was only the fourth to seventh years who were aware of the change in hierarchy, so Marcus remained the imposing figurehead he had been since Rose first arrived at Hogwarts.

Little Malfoy still strutted around like he owned the place and, honestly, it amused her to no end. She was readily looking forward to their sixth year as she knew Malfoy would walk back in here expecting to take the head spot for his own.

Those older than Rose were very respectful towards her now though that’s not to say they were ever disrespectful. At first they remained distant and pretended she didn’t exist; then when they learned about her Parseltongue abilities they became more cautiously neutral with her. Now though, whenever she’d pass one of them in the hall, they’d give her a slight nod of recognition that never failed to have her smothering a smile.

Slytherins could be an amusing bunch when they knew they couldn’t see all the pieces being played.

“Potter.”

Rose glanced up from her absent stare at the book on her lap in slight surprise. Marcus was standing just at the edge of the seating area, an amused gleam in his eyes at catching her by surprise. Giving a quiet huff, Rose gestured to the seat across from her.

Despite their rather amicable friendship, Marcus still had yet to really refer to her by her given name. Rose wondered if that was because he didn’t want to be that familiar with her or because he wanted to appear respectful of her. Based on his attempts to stay on her good side, she’d guess the latter.

Marcus swiftly took a seat at Rose’s silent invitation and dropped his bag off of his shoulder, moving it to his lap in one smooth motion as both hands wrapped around it.

“I brought the books you wanted,” he said with little fanfare.

That had Rose sitting up straighter.

Near the end of her second year, after Hermione was attacked, Rose had asked Marcus for books on wizarding customs and laws. With how hectic things had ended that year and then summer coming along, she hadn’t been able to spare much thought on the topic after they discussed it.

Marcus had told her that Purebloods were particularly cagey about their wizarding custom books, apparently some families had their own traditions mixed in with the main base of it all and a lot of it they didn’t want anyone else outside the family knowing. As such, it would take him a while to procure the books she asked for.

The older boy had wanted to gather all the necessary books and give them to her all at once rather than hand them over as he got one. Rose didn’t complain, considering the topics she was delving into she’d rather be able to pour right into it rather than be forced to stop as she finished a book. Now Marcus handed over his bag that didn’t look overly stuffed, but Rose didn’t let that fool her. Wizards were an innovative community and no doubt the bag had expansion charms on it as well as a feather-light charm so it was easier to handle.

Marcus glanced over his shoulder before he leaned closer to Rose. “I would be cautious about reading those just anywhere.” He told her quietly and got a raised brow in return. “Most of them are alright but there are a few that, while not necessarily Dark, are frowned upon.”

Rose hummed, not sounding particularly concerned at that. Which was true. Rose didn’t fully understand the wizarding world's need to separate magic. Light. Dark. She could understand it in a classification sense but the fact that they went out of their way to condemn one branch of magic while lauding the other was ridiculous. Still, not wanting to deal with unnecessary whispers, Rose resisted taking out the books now.

“Thank you,” Rose said quietly, offering Marcus a small smile.

The boy grinned back. “No problem. Happy to help.” Sitting back in his seat, Marcus glanced over at the fire and back to Rose. “I’ll need the ones on wizarding customs back before the end of the year but you’re good to keep the ones on wizarding laws for as long as you need.”

Giving a nod, Rose eyed Marcus for a moment as he stared at the fireplace in a contemplative silence. The two of them had a rather tense beginning but she had grown quite fond of him over the years. He was always willing to engage in conversation with her despite the fact that Rose hardly spoke to him at all. He would tell her things about the wizarding world or the tips and tricks to dealing with snobby Purebloods; including the well-known but not talked about secrets about each family.

At the beginning of her second year Marcus had told her how he failed his fifth year O.W.L.s His mother had been sick throughout the year, distracting him rather thoroughly, and then had passed the morning of the first exam. He stubbornly decided to take them anyways and tanked every single one. Instead of taking the exams again over the summer and risking a mediocre score, he decided to redo his fifth year, unconcerned about what anyone else would have to say on the matter.

Rose could respect Marcus’s reasoning. Most would have taken the easy route and got things over with rather than restart and build a solid base.

The Flint’s were great parents by Pureblood standards. Both of Marcus’s parents had always encouraged his passions rather than force him to do what they considered to be important. Although they did expect him to carry on the family name and become the family Lord, they never arranged a marriage for him, instead encouraging him to find a wife on his own.

Apparently it wasn’t uncommon for Pureblood parents to arrange marriages before their kids reached Hogwarts, sometimes before they could walk.

Either way, when it came to those she was actually friends with, Rose considered Marcus to be at the same level as Ron and Hermione. He was fiercely loyal, and while she knew it started out as a way to vaguely profit from her, it had since grown into something more genuine. He had a sly humour and a cunning mind and she was certain he would succeed in whatever he planned to do after he graduated.

Looking back down at the bag in her lap, Rose resisted the urge to go upstairs to start reading right that second and instead sat back in her seat. She wasn’t the most social of people but she couldn’t help but want Marcus to know that she didn’t just value him for the books he brought her. Rose could hear a voice in the back of her mind that sounded distinctly like Harry telling her that she should give back as much as she got when it came to her friendships. Rose had no elusive information to offer Marcus so she’d give him her company and keep his secrets.

“How are you feeling about your N.E.W.T.s?”

Marcus looked over in surprise, smiling slightly.

The two spent the next few hours sitting in front of the fireplace. Marcus going back and forth between bemoaning and bragging about his upcoming exams. Rose offered the occasional comment but for the most part listened to the boy talk.

It wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening.

Not long after winter break Rose was heading to the Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Harry. Professor Lupin had promised to teach him how to cast the Patronus Charm— a spell to repel dementors. Rose could practically feel the nerves and tension radiating off of her brother. She knew her brother was putting a lot of pressure on himself to do well, for more than one reason. 

For starters, the dementors had shown up at a Quidditch match before, why wouldn’t they again? And Harry didn’t want to lose another match again and cost his team a win. The second reason was because of the extreme reaction Harry had to the dementors. Rose knew Harry didn’t like being singled out and wanted to get a handle on this sooner rather than later.

Rose had a pretty bad reaction to them too, just barely managing to stay conscious when there was one nearby. She figured the only reason she did was because of the pure-minded stubbornness she had against appearing weak— plus the fact that she hadn’t gotten quite as close to one as Harry, even in the train her brother had made sure to step between her and the thing that came into their compartment— still it was always a close call; not that this was a comfort to Harry, really.

Rose also knew that Harry was worried about what they heard when the dementors came near.

She had long since stopped letting herself dwell too much on the absence of their parents. Mind you, she did when she was younger. Rose used to imagine what her and her brother’s life would be like if they were still with them, imagining if they’d love them unconditionally or not. She eventually stopped all together though, forcing that part of herself into a small ball and shoving it deep in her soul where she couldn’t hear it anymore.

Harry never said it out loud but Rose knew there was a part of him that wanted to hear her again. Hearing their mothers voice and then realizing just what they heard was… jarring. It was something they never in a million years thought they would hear and yet—

Rose made herself move past it. Listening to the voices of people who were long gone wouldn’t solve anything, she rationalized. Harry though— Harry was always a boy who thought with his heart first. One of his best qualities most of the time. Now– now it was just going to cause him pain.

Rose hated that.

The two of them walked into the empty History of Magic classroom that evening after curfew. It was dark when they got there and when Harry went to light the lamps with his wand Rose stopped him. He shot her a look that she did not bother answering, instead raising her hand. Rose flicked out her wrist and the lamp lit up.

Harry laughed in part amazement and part amusement while Rose smiled brightly at him. It still blew Harry away how casually Rose could control magic and he wondered if she felt about magic the way he felt about riding a broom. Just an instinctual gut feeling that flowed through your very bones.

“You gonna do the rest?”

Playfully rolling up her sleeves, Rose proceeded to light the rest of the lamps in the room while Harry watched with a mixture of pride and fondness. They could see the room properly now that it was alit with a warm glow and with a shared glance the two leaned against Binns’ desk together to wait for Professor Lupin.

They didn’t have to wait long for the man to show up. After about a minute Lupin came in through the door carrying a luggage suitcase. He gestured with his head for the two of them to move, which they did so quickly, before he heaved it on top of Binns’ desk.

“What’s that?” Harry asked curiously.

“A boggart.”

Ah, that was smart, Rose thought. Since Harry’s boggart was a dementor it would be a rather safe way for him to practice the spell without any harmful or deadly side-effects.

“So…” Lupin started, taking out his wand and motioning for them to do the same. “Do you know anything about the spell we are going to be attempting?”

Harry nodded. “Ro’ told me quite a bit about it.”

Lupin hummed in understanding as he eyed the two teens. “And are you going to be attempting the spell too?” He asked Rose.

Rose shook her head firmly.

She got a nod in understanding before their professor spoke again. “Alright then, Harry. Keep in mind that the Patronus Charm is highly advanced magic— well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It won’t be a success straight away.”

“How does it work exactly?” Harry asked nervously, Rose had just given him a brief rundown on the spell. Okay, that wasn’t true, she did more than that, but Harry heard ‘repels dementors’ and then his brain went far away into how to learn it.

Lupin explained what the Patronus spell would conjure and what it was in layman’s terms. An anti-dementor spell. A guardian. A protector. “The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon— hope, happiness, the desire to survive— but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can’t hurt it.” He went on, watching to make sure Harry was following along.

Harry nodded slowly. “… what does it look like?”

“Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it.”

“And how do you conjure it?”

“With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory.”

Harry’s mind instantly went to Rose. Of course it did. His sister was the best thing in his life and she was a part of almost every single happy moment he had. He thought over his memories carefully and opted out of using one from before their Hogwarts days. He did have some happy memories with her from back then but there was a tinge of sadness and pain to those ones— life with the Dursleys. Finally, he settled on the day they boarded the Hogwarts express.

“Alright,” he said, releasing a deep breath as he tried to recall his feelings from that day. The excitement, relief and joy he felt knowing he and his sister were finally leaving the Dursleys, just like they always planned to.

Rose and Lupin watched on as Harry made his attempt at the spell, Rose smiling at his excitement when he managed to conjure a wispy looking mist. Lupin was quick to congratulate Harry at that, asking if he was ready to try with a dementor now.

Nerves clear on his face, Harry soldiered on, giving a firm nod.

Harry’s attempt against the boggart-dementor did not go well, it went exactly like it went when he was faced with a real dementor actually, and Rose rushed over to her brother when he fell to the ground, flat on his back.

Lupin corralled the boggart while Rose helped Harry up, her own hands shaking as she did so.

“It’s getting worse,” Harry muttered, bringing a hand to his head.

Rose would bet. At least she was further back and not facing it head on, she couldn’t imagine how Harry was feeling now.

“I could hear her louder that time— and him— Voldemort.”

Rose wrapped her arm around his shoulder comfortingly while Lupin paled, he handed Harry a chocolate frog and told him that he’d understand if Harry didn’t want to continue. Rose knew what Harry would say before he even said it out loud.

“I do!” Chewing on the rest of the Chocolate Frog, Harry went on about the next Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, saying he needed to be ready.

Lupin nodded slowly. “All right then... You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on… That one doesn’t seem to have been strong enough… Take your time.”

Rose and Lupin moved back as Harry began as Harry frowned in concentration. Not wanting to hover over him as he debated over a memory, Lupin commented quietly to Rose as they leaned back against Binns’ desk.

“I am slightly surprised you didn’t want to learn the spell as well...” She glanced over at the man and gave a small shrug, looking back at Harry again. “From what I’ve viewed so far, and what the rest of the staff have told me, you are quite the avid learner.”

Rose frowned as she thought over her choice not to learn the spell with her brother. She had debated over it heavily in fact and Lupin was right about his assessment of her. Rose loved to learn, loved the feeling of accomplishment she got when she mastered a spell. However—

“I don’t know what it would be…” she said quietly, not looking at her professor.

To his credit, Lupin didn’t show any outward signs of shock at Rose choosing to speak, instead he asked. “Why would that stop you?”

Rose licked her lips and let out a deep sigh. “The spell is used to conjure up a guardian… a protector… It’s something that is pulled from the wizard themselves.” She glanced down at the ground, her hands clenching at the edge of the desk. “I have… zero experience with that. The closest thing I have to the feeling of protection is Harry. But I wouldn’t call him a protector, not really, it’s more that we look out for each and, more often than not, weather whatever storm we’re in together.”

She looked to her professor now as she tried to articulate her thoughts properly. “I’ve read up on this spell and, more than most spells, it relies on feeling. Belief. The happy memory you choose is meant to be a protector but if you don’t believe that the happy memory is enough to protect you from the bad things then it won't work, will it?”

Rose glanced over at her brother again. “I know Harry will manage the spell,” she said quietly. “Harry has the uncanny ability to believe in everyone and everything. He can believe in the goodness of people and that they’d be there if he needed them… I can’t do that. I’m the type of person who needs to see it first.”

“It’s like with our parents,” she went on, not entirely sure why she was going into such depth in explaining things. “Harry believes with all his heart that they’d love us as we are— that they’d be proud of us. I don’t though— I can’t. Because I need to see it to believe it and that’s not something I’ll ever be able to do…”

Rose could feel Lupin’s gaze on her but she didn’t look towards the man.

“Ready.”

Lupin jumped slightly when Harry spoke before quickly making his way over to the suitcase. He grabbed its edge, gave Harry a look, then said, “go!” and pulled the lid open.

Again, Harry gave it his best and then fainted, falling limply to the floor while Rose rushed over. She discreetly wiped the tears off his face, knowing he’d be embarrassed if the professor saw, using her body to block Harry from view.

Harry sat up slowly, his hand going up to his head.

“I heard Dad,” he muttered to Rose, looking up at her wide eyed. His words had her freezing, not expecting him to say that. “He tried to take on Voldemort himself… to give Mum time to make a run for it…”

Rose didn’t know what to say to that.

“You heard James?” Lupin said strangely.

The two glanced over at the pale professor and Rose narrowed her eyes at the slightly familiar tone he had spoken their father’s name in.

“Yeah…” Harry said slowly. “Did you know our dad?”

“I—” Lupin stuttered. “I did in fact; he was in my year at Hogwarts.” Lupin shook his head before suggesting that they stop there, a slightly guilty look on his face as he eyed Harry still sitting on the floor.

Harry surged upward at that, though not at all quick and relying on his sister for the most part to help him.

“No!”

Harry was quick to plead his case for another try, visibly racking his brain for another happy memory.

He nodded his head urgently when he felt he had a good one and, with a look of great reluctance, Professor Lupin opened up the case again. This time when Harry cast the spell, instead of a wispy mist coming out of his wand a silver glowing shadow came bursting out of the end. He held his ground for a few minutes before he started swaying and their professor jumped in.

“Riddikulus!”

Rose helped Harry over to a chair while Lupin wrestled the boggart, now a silvery orb, into the case again.

“That was excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!”

Harry was going to ask for another go when he noticed how pale and shaky his sister was. Swallowing his words, he shot her a concerned look and Rose smiled slightly, shaking her head that she was fine.

“We’ll leave it there for now, shall we?” Lupin said, his question more of a firm order than an actual inquiry.

He handed the twins a large chocolate bar each. Rose vaguely wondered just how much chocolate the man had at the ready on a given day.

“Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?”

“Okay,” Harry agreed instantly, Rose nodding along absently. They each took a bite of their chocolates and watched Lupin extinguish the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the dementor. A thought had just occurred to Harry.

“Professor Lupin?” he said. “If you knew my dad, you must’ve known Sirius Black as well.”

Lupin turned very quickly.

“What gives you that idea?” he said sharply. Rose’s eyebrows ticked up at the defensive reaction, her mind already pondering over its implications.

“Nothing— I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too…”

Lupin’s face relaxed.

“Yes, I knew him,” he said shortly. “Or I thought I did. You’d better be off, Harry, it’s getting late.”

Harry and Rose shared a look at the abrupt dismissal before making their way to the doors, both feeling rather tired, Harry more so than Rose for obvious reasons. They only made it a few steps into the corridor when Lupin’s voice called out to them again.

“Rose?”

Turning around they saw Lupin standing in the doorway, an oddly hesitant expression on his face. He made a gesture for her to come back, to which she did easily enough, Harry waiting in the same spot for her with a curious expression on his face.

When she was close enough to be heard without having to raise his voice, Lupin spoke. “They would have been proud of you.” He told her firmly, not leaving any room for argument. “No matter the choices you make or the person you become.”

Rose clenched her jaw, not quite believing the man. She was a Slytherin after all and if she learnt anything from most of the witches and wizards in the magical world it was that they had an undeniable prejudice against her House.

Lupin smiled sadly. “I knew both your parents rather well. James— he was a man who valued family above all else and there was next to nothing someone he loved could have done to turn him away from them.” His brow furrowing slightly and he let out a deep breath, relaxing his expression back into a more reassuring one. “And your mother had a big heart. She did not believe in judging a book by their cover— or House” he added on with a pointed look. “One of her best friends, for a great many of years, was in fact a Slytherin.”

Rose couldn’t completely hide the surprise she felt at that. She eyed her professor for a few moments and finally gave him a nod of understanding.

Smiling slightly, Lupin nodded in return. “Alright, you both should head to your dorms now.”

Rose stepped away from the man, heading back over to her brother, her thoughts a disarray.

Rose hadn’t always been a person who needed to see it in order to believe it. In fact, she and Harry were very similar in the way of belief when they were growing up. It was just as years went by, and they were continuously let down by the adults around them, she lost that belief. Every adult who ignored the bruises on her and her brother. Every neighbour who did nothing about the screams that they no doubt heard coming from their uncle. The teachers who did nothing as they were bullied and ridiculed in school.

She thought, maybe, that when they came to the magical world things would change. She was stupendously wrong. With her it happened straight away, the second Rose was Sorted in the House of snakes she was let down. People turning their backs on her without even knowing her. She could have lived with it if her brother had been accepted but he wasn’t either. Not really.

Sure, at first they all loved him, but in the end, they loved his fame, not the kind-hearted boy he was. The second things got tough, his own House would turn on him. It happened in first year, second year, it was bound to happen again too, she had no doubt.

She thought of the professors who stood by and let this happen without lifting a finger. One professor actively participating in the abuse while no adult said a word against him. Swearing his morals up and down. She thought of her and Harry’s conversation with Professor Dumbledore at the end of their first year. How they asked the man if they could stay at Hogwarts, or anywhere else really, telling him about their relatives’ cruelty.

Rose’s face pulled into a sneer as she thought over the man's reply. How he told them that they had to go back and that it was the safest place for them.

What a joke.

Even the Weasleys, who opened their home to her brother and her, had let them down. Despite her attempts to mother them, and the fact that she could tell that the Rose and Harry were far too thin, Mrs. Weasley had turned the other cheek when her own sons told her about how the Dursley’s treated them.

They even had the bars to prove it that time.

Yeah. Rose had been let down far too much to just believe that people would protect her and her brother. By now, even if there was anyone who would see that they needed help, odds were that all it would take was just a few words from Dumbledore for them to let it go.

Who would argue with Albus Dumbledore after all? Especially for two orphans with no real family to speak of.

“Ro’?”

Rose looked to her brother before scanning their surroundings, she quickly realized that they were at one of the spots they normally split off from each other at. Turning back to Harry she saw concern clear on his face. Giving him a smile, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Merlin, she loved her brother. Would do anything for him.

Harry squeezed her hand back just as tightly, his face pulling into a grin now that Rose didn’t look so troubled.

“See you tomorrow?”

Rose gave him a thumbs up, grinning when Harry laughed at the sight of it. She had no idea why it amused him so much when she did it, but it always made him laugh.

The two headed off in opposite directions, both lost in thoughts about the Patronus lessons.

February quickly came around and Harry and Ron were still not talking to Hermione and the girl remained stubbornly righteous about her actions. Harry hadn’t made any move to buy a new broom, not wanting to have the same broom as Malfoy, and he still had yet to get back his Firebolt. (Woods' attempts to get it back also proved to be futile.) Harry was still meeting up with Professor Lupin for his Patronus lessons, Rose always tagging along, but he still had yet to make any progress which only served to sour his mood even more.

After a rather disappointing lesson Harry was trudging back to Gryffindor Tower and walked headlong into Professor McGonagall while climbing a staircase.

“Do watch where you’re going, Potter!”

“Sorry, Professor—”

“I’ve just been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room. Well, here it is, we’ve done everything we could think of, and there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it at all— you’ve got a very good friend somewhere, Potter…”

Harry’s jaw dropped. She was holding out his Firebolt and it looked as magnificent as ever.

“I can have it back?” Harry asked weakly. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Professor McGonagall replied, and she was actually smiling. “I daresay you’ll need to get the feel of it before Saturday’s match, won’t you? And Potter— do try and win, won’t you? Or we’ll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night…”

Speechless, Harry carried the Firebolt upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower. As he turned a corner, he saw Ron dashing toward him, grinning from ear to ear.

“She gave it to you? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah… anything…” Harry mumbled, his heart lighter than it had been in a month. “You know what— we should make up with Hermione… She was only trying to help…”

Harry felt like they could have probably made up with Hermione a while ago, but Ron had been so upset with her that Harry felt a need to support him in that anger. Ron was the first friend Harry ever made. Still, while Harry had been angry with Hermione, he wasn’t so angry that he couldn’t see the good intentions behind her actions— as hidden as they were by Hermione’s desire to be right and unwillingness to see any other option.

“Yeah, all right,” Ron said slowly. “She’s in the common room now working— for a change.”

They turned into the corridor to Gryffindor Tower and saw Neville Longbottom pleading with Sir Cadogan, who seemed to be refusing him entrance.

“I wrote them down!” Neville was saying tearfully. “But I must’ve dropped them somewhere!”

“A likely tale!” Sir Cadogan roared. Then, spotting Harry and Ron: “Good even, my fine young yeomen! Come clap this loon in irons. He is trying to force entry to the chambers within!”

“Oh, shut up,” Ron said as he and Harry drew level with Neville.

“I’ve lost the passwords!” Neville told them miserably. “I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don’t know what I’ve done with them!”

“Oddsbodkins,” Harry said to Sir Cadogan, who looked extremely disappointed and reluctantly swung forward to let them into the common room. There was a sudden, excited murmur as every head turned and the next moment Harry was surrounded by people exclaiming over his Firebolt.

“Where’d you get it, Harry?”

“Will you let me have a go?”

“Have you ridden it yet, Harry?”

“Ravenclaw’ll have no chance, they’re all on Cleansweep Sevens!”

“Can I just hold it, Harry?”

After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolt was passed around and admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and Harry and Ron had a clear view of Hermione, the only person who hadn’t rushed over to them, bent over her work and carefully avoiding their eyes. Harry and Ron approached her table and at last, she looked up.

“I got it back,” Harry told her, grinning at her and holding up the Firebolt.

“See, Hermione? There wasn’t anything wrong with it!” Ron had to say.

“Well— there might have been!” Hermione replied. “I mean, at least you know now that it’s safe!”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Harry agreed slowly, not letting himself linger on Hermione’s lack of admittance of wrong. “I’d better put it upstairs.”

“I’ll take it!” Ron offered eagerly. “I’ve got to give Scabbers his rat tonic.”

He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys’ staircase.

“Can I sit down, then?” Harry asked Hermione.

“I suppose so,” Hermione said, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.

Harry looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay— Harry was proud to say that he and Rose finished that one yesterday— on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay (‘Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity’) and at the rune translation Hermione was now pouring over.

“How are you getting through all this stuff?” Harry asked her.

“Oh, well— you know— working hard,” Hermione replied. Close-up, Harry saw that she looked almost as tired as Lupin.

“Why don’t you just drop a couple of subjects?” Harry asked, watching her lift books as she searched for her rune dictionary.

“I couldn’t do that!” Hermione said, looking scandalized.

“Why not Muggle Studies?” Harry suggested, glancing over at a book on Muggle electricity. “You already know how it works; you live in the Muggle world.”

“Oh! But that class is so interesting!” Hermione said earnestly. “The way wizards view standard Muggle things is—”

But exactly how wizards viewed those Muggle things, Harry never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys’ staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder— and Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.

“Look!” he bellowed, striding over to Hermione’s table. “Look!” he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.

“Ron, what—?”

“Scabbers! Look! Scabbers!”

Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like—

“Blood!” Ron yelled into the stunned silence. “He’s gone! And you know what was on the floor?”

“N–no,” Hermione said in a trembling voice.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione’s rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.

Well, there went the chance of Ron and Hermione making up.

It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione’s friendship, the two were so mad at each other Harry didn’t see how they could fix things.

He said as much to Rose as the two sat in a small alcove somewhere in the castle.

Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks’ attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hadn’t bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys’ beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron’s head in the Magical Menagerie.

Honestly, in likelihood, Crookshanks probably did eat Scabbers, but when Harry pointed this out to Hermione she lost her temper on him too, accusing him of siding with Ron.

Ron had taken Scabbers loss very hard and Fred and George’s idea of ‘comfort’ didn’t exactly help things.

On a more positive note, Gryffindor had won their match against Ravenclaw; despite Malfoy and his cronies' attempt at sabotage. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had dressed up in dementor-like robes and attempted to scare Harry and throw him off his game. Rose had assured Harry that the three boys made this plan on their own and that the rest of the Slytherin team had no idea. Marcus had been beyond furious, apparently Malfoy decided not to tell him of his plan due to his habit of studying with Rose from time to time.

Honestly, Rose could see Marcus going through with the plan, or at least the Marcus she knew back in first year, but she could understand where Marcus’ anger came from. As far as Malfoy knew, Marcus was the Head of the Slytherin Hierarchy and he still made a decision that affected the House behind the seventh-year’s back.

Either way, Rose dealt out an appropriate punishment to her unsuspecting year mates— that was on top of the punishment they had received from Professor McGonagall herself.

The Gryffindor’s had celebrated heartedly that night, Harry even snuck Rose in for a short while. Though the girl didn’t want to stick around any longer than necessary, not a fan of the noise that pounded through the Gryffindor common room.

And since the rules of Hogwarts states that things can never be too positive, Sirius Black broke into the Gryffindor dorms that night—

And attacked Ron?

Chapter Text

The next morning, word had quickly spread and Rose immediately grabbed hold of her brother just outside of the Great Hall. Harry let himself be dragged off to the side, being sure to pull Ron alongside him, and Marcus Flint followed behind the three slowly, his eyes scanning the general area as he went. The boy was about as paranoid as the professors were these days, although he was a lot more subtle than any of them. The professors were now upping security everywhere in the castle, the portraits now being shown and told to memorize a picture of Sirius Black.

As soon as they were off to the side and marginally out of sight, Rose shot her brother a look that said; Explain. Now.

“Sirius Black broke into Gryffindor Tower.” Harry said straight away.

One could practically hear the ‘duh’ that Rose was thinking.

As Ron glanced over his shoulder at Flint, Harry explained. “Apparently Neville wrote down our common room passwords for this week and lost them. Black got a hold of them and just... walked into Gryffindor Tower.”

“He just walked in?” Flint asked incredulously, turning his gaze from the area around them to look at Harry. “Your entrance guardian just let a strange and terrifying man waltz on in?”

Harry and Ron both looked like they wanted to come to their guardian's defence, more out of loyalty to Gryffindor than them actually liking the portrait, but had to admit that it was unbelievable that the man would do such a thing.

Rose hit Harry’s arm telling him to continue.

Harry just glanced over at Ron, who spoke up straight away. “I was just sleeping, and I heard a noise and when I looked up Sirius Black was standing over me with a knife!”

That had Rose frowning with a start. Glancing between the two she pointed over at Ron.

“Yeah. Ron.” Harry replied.

Almost simultaneously, Rose and Flint looked at each other, their gazes terribly confused— okay slightly confused, but for a Slytherin to show that much you knew they were very confused.

Rose turned back to her brother without a word, scanning Harry for any sign of injury. When she didn’t find any, she pursed her lips and sighed, gesturing towards where the entrance to the Great Hall was.

Ron didn’t waste any time heading to breakfast, sliding past Flint quickly.

Harry on the other hand hesitated for a second and grabbed his sister’s hand. With only a brief look at Flint, he met his sister’s inquiring look. “You’ll be okay, right? I mean— they have extra safety around Slytherin dorms too, right?”

Smiling softly, Rose squeezed Harry’s hand tightly in reassurance. She didn’t give any sort of reaction as Harry’s eyes flickered to Marcus and he nodded as though it reassured him that the older boy often shadowed his sister around the school.

Harry headed off to the Great Hall without another word, Rose and Marcus following behind at a much more leisure pace. When Harry broke off for the Gryffindor table, giving his sister one last look, the two Slytherins made their way to their own table.

For the most part the Slytherin table sat very similarly as the rest of the school, often the first years near the end by the head table and the years slowly going up until you got to the seventh years who sat at the opposite end near the entrance way. There was the occasional student who sat with a group older than them or vice versus. The other exception came hand in hand with the Slytherin Hierarchy. The Head of the Hierarchy was free to sit wherever he, or she, wanted to and more often than not, that was with the seventh years.

Rose had no such inclination. While she did not mind her new position in Slytherin, she had no desire to associate with her housemates any more so than she already did. As such, Rose sat in the same general spot she sat for every meal each year; just between her year and the year above her with empty seats on either side of her.

Mind you, they weren’t always empty, Marcus would come join her every now and then, sometimes Adrian would join them— lately Graham Montague would occasionally do so as well.

Today Rose was unsurprised when Marcus followed her at her customary seat, having broken off from her when they reached their table and then sliding into the seat on the opposite side of her. Never one to engage in small talk, or any talk for that matter, Rose began to grab some fruit and a slice of toast, placing both on her plate.

Marcus eyed the girl for a moment, absently grabbing whatever was within reach and piling it on his plate. The Great Hall wasn’t completely packed at the moment, nor was it particularly empty. The seats around them were vacant, but still Marcus surreptitiously waved his wand, casting a charm that would keep anyone from overhearing them.

“Why do you think he went for Weasley?”

Glancing up, Rose pursed her lips and inclined her to one side slightly while taking a bite of her fruit.

She didn’t know.

Or— she didn’t have any theories beyond the obvious at the moment.

“Black was smart enough to get into Gryffindor Tower, you think he’d be dumb enough to go for the wrong kid?”

Rose didn’t offer a reply straight away, instead continuing to eat her breakfast and after a moment Marcus followed suit. Eventually Rose turned her gaze to nothing in particular, thinking over Marcus’s words carefully.

She understood his assumption on Black’s smarts. The man had escaped Azkaban, a feat no one else has ever accomplished. But Azkaban did have effects on one’s mind and even the best Slytherin’s could lose their patience when the goal they’ve been working for was right in their grasp. Especially when that goal was motivated by revenge.

“Do you have a class after breakfast?” Rose asked Marcus suddenly, making the boy startle.

“No.”

Rose nodded once then gestured towards the door and stood up. Marcus was quick to follow, leaving behind his almost finished meal instantly.

Not offering any explanation, Rose led the way through the Hogwarts halls; she wouldn’t have class for another two hours so she felt they had enough time to talk. Not even glancing at the odd person they passed here and there, Rose made her way to a small alcove that she and Harry would hide out in when they wanted to spend time together without anyone else.

She had things she wanted to ask Marcus, hoping the boy had the answers she needed. The whole thing with Sirius Black was tiresome and she kept failing to wrap her mind around it. Honestly, she wanted nothing more than to ignore it and put it out of her mind but that wouldn’t happen now. The man had made it into her brother’s dorm room and had come so close to finishing off what Voldemort started.

Rose hated dealing with this kind of stuff. She wanted to explore magic and learn and try new things, instead she had to spend year after year dealing with whatever crazy situation happened upon them. She was also already annoyed with the trailing eyes of the nervous professors, their gazes following her and Harry since Halloween. Marcus had seemed to already come to the decision that he should stick close to her and the only reason she was going to put up with it was because she actually enjoyed the boy's company.

She understood the overall concern and she wasn’t stupid enough to think she could hold her own against Black should he decide to attack. Her hold on wandless magic, while likely impressive to students at Hogwarts, was not anywhere near strong enough to be an asset against a full-grown wizard. From the stories she heard Black had been a force to be reckoned with during the last war.

Her brother wanted to kill the man. He may not have said as much out loud but Rose could always get a good read on his thoughts and feelings. Rose could understand the anger, she had a lot of it herself, but she wouldn’t take the risk. She hated Black for his traitorous role in her and Harry’s childhood, but she wouldn’t risk her, or Harry’s, life for revenge over something that could not be undone.

Besides, if what Lupin said was true, then Black had an appropriate end waiting for him with the dementors. Why work up a sweat when there was a viable solution right in front of them?

Still, Rose had questions regarding Black. If there was one thing she hated, it was not being able to understand something.

Upon reaching her destination Rose waved her wand in the air and casted the same charms Marcus had casted in the Great Hall. Moving over to a small bench against the wall, she took a seat and looked over at Marcus. The older boy was leaning against the wall, his hair falling in waves on either side of his face. (The only time it remained out of his face was when he was flying or working on potions, then he’d tie it back.) His thick brows were up in expectancy and he was watching her carefully.

“Black being a Death Eater was a surprise, right.”

Although it was a question, Rose’s voice stated it like a fact. She knew it had to be. From what Harry recounted about the conversation he overheard, it seemed Black’s change of sides was a huge blow to a fair few.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Rose asked slowly. “Just because he had been a Gryffindor?” Rose couldn’t believe that. While the overall stigma that ran through, it seemed, anyone who attended this school about each of the Hogwarts Houses was bad, there was no way it would be so deeply ingrained in them that people just couldn’t believe that a Gryffindor could be a bad person.

Marcus shook his head, leaning his head back against the wall as he looked up at the ceiling, trying to organize his thoughts. “It wasn’t just because he was a Gryffindor,” he said surely, looking back at her. “Black had been labelled a blood traitor years ago. He came from a Dark-orientated-all-Slytherin family and was Sorted into the House of lions. It was a shock to a lot of Pureblood families.

“He eventually ran away from home all together, essentially giving up his Lordship and inheritance. Even when he still lived with his parents he didn’t practice any of the customs unless he had to. From what I heard he’d dress up in Muggle clothing and keep Muggle things in his room. He had Muggleborn friends and he and his crowd of Gryffindor’s would practically terrorize Pureblood supremacists in school...”

Rose stayed silent as Marcus talked, his words practically ringing in her ears. Had it all been a ploy then? Surely he had been meant for Gryffindor, you couldn’t trick or hide things from the Sorting Hat. Running away all together... No way the Black family had enough foresight to plan something out for that long that they’d let their heir all but desecrate everything they believed in and then send him off.

“How loyal were the Black’s to Voldemort?”

Marcus gave a slight twitch at the name but otherwise gave no reaction. “Regulus Black, the Black family's second heir, took the Mark. Bellatrix Lestrange, who was a Black by birth, also did; she worshipped the Dark Lord. Other than that, none of the other Black’s took the Mark that I know for sure of, they supported him though.” He pursed his lips and quietly added. “Black had been vocal for being against the Dark Lord, even though it was known that the Dark Lord had tried to sway him to his side... I suppose he succeeded in the end.”

Rose frowned at the ground between them, her brows furrowing in irritation. She couldn’t understand it. There’s no way an eleven-year-old child could fool everyone for that long. So, was he actually against the Dark Lord in the beginning? If so, what changed his mind?

“The Black family are known for their madness,” Marcus said suddenly, making Rose jerk her head up to look at him. “It’s something that is kept in mind in Pureblood circles when arranging marriages. It hit Bellatrix Lestrange harder than most, but it’s there.” When Rose’s face turned confused, he went on. “You’re trying to understand his actions— trying to piece it all together. You may need to accept that the Black Madness might have just taken hold of him.”

Rose resisted the urge to scowl. It felt like such a cop out to do that, but short of asking Black herself, which she had no plans to do, what other choice did she have.

Seeing the barely concealed look of irritation on her face, Marcus changed the subject. “So– are you still bored with your Ancient Runes assignments?” He laughed as Rose rolled her eyes, he knew the girl would be bored with it come this year. Having been studying the topic since her first year, she was far ahead of everyone in her class, including the overachieving Muggleborn she was friends with.

It didn’t take Marcus long to realise how brilliant Rose Potter was, or perhaps she was just very ambitious. Unsurprising for a Slytherin. She seemed to absorb any topic she had placed in front of her and studied it until she could grasp it as well as any adult. In a different way than her Muggleborn friend—Granger?— who seemed to spout off answers word for word from the textbooks and didn’t seem interested in expanding her knowledge any further than that. She was limited, destined to be thwarted when she reached a topic that didn’t have any answers in a book for her.

Marcus also had a lot of respect for Rose for not holding any aversion to any form of magic either; Dark, Light, Neutral, she wanted to learn it all.

He knew that despite the ambition that coursed through her, Rose Potter had no desire to lead or to fight. Marcus was certain she could. He was certain that she could change the wizarding world if she really wanted to, everything she was accomplishing now, some of which without even trying...

Rose Potter could be a force to be reckoned with. Was one. You don’t just jump to the top of the Slytherin Hierarchy without that sort of power. She had a knack for playing the long con— something he knew she was doing with Malfoy junior at the moment, unaware as the boy might be.

There were going to be people who’d try to test her, Marcus knew that. They’d wait until he was gone and then make their ploys. Oh, they wouldn’t risk doing it themselves; no chance. Instead they’d let a younger and more stupid Slytherin do it for them and would watch for the response.

As of now, only the kids in Rose’s year and those below them were unaware of the girl's position in Slytherin. He also knew that a good percentage of the older students’ hands were tied by the knowledge that Rose knew their secrets. The fact that they didn’t know which ones made it even worse.

Slytherin’s were a group that kept their own personal interests in mind first, as such Marcus was sure that none of the older years thought to warn their new housemates of the snakes that adorned their common room and dorms. Wouldn’t warn them that they listened in on their secrets and would tell them to Rose Potter.

Not until much later at least, when they were in just as bad a position as the rest of them— maybe not even then.

That was why the head position was so suited for her. Rose gathered knowledge and secrets and held them close to her chest, using them to get the outcomes she wanted. It was a stroke of luck for those that attend Hogwarts with her, though they didn’t know it, that what she wanted from them was to be left alone.

Marcus was acutely aware though that, while Rose wanted to keep out of the war, her brother may very well be involved. He was a Gryffindor through and through and each year involved himself in the drama that occurred.

To be fair a lot of it was aimed at him and his sister in particular.

But then again, he was also fiercely loyal to his sister, sticking by her through everything and never even blinking at the books he no doubt saw her read.

The thing was though, the Dark Lord was unaware of these facts. Unaware that Rose Potter had no interest in fighting against him and that Harry Potter would stand aside if his twin wanted to. That meant one of two things would happen.

One: The Dark Lord would attack the Potter twins— and more importantly, Harry Potter. That would result in Rose Potter's entry into the war because while she may not want to fight, she’d go to any lengths to defend her brother. She’d use her knowledge and power in whatever way necessary to get the results she desired and, based on her research these past few years, she wouldn’t care about sticking to Light Magic.

Marcus wasn’t sure the British wizarding community would be able to sustain themselves after that particular bloodshed.

Or two: The Dark Lord would try to sway the twins to his side of the war. Marcus was unsure about how that would go, given the twins’ friendship with Muggleborns and Halfbloods alike; more Harry than Rose. If they turned him down the Dark Lord would likely make an example out of them, kill them to show others what happens to those who dare turn from his beckoning hand.

Honestly, the best course of action would be for him to convince Rose Potter alone. Her brother would follow her anywhere, even to the Dark Lord’s side, but neither would fight. Marcus knew it would take a lot to get Rose to fight. The Dark Lord needed to offer the two of them an out to this war, a ‘stay out of his way and he’ll leave them be’ situation.

Something Dumbledore would never offer them.

But the Dark Lord hadn’t been known for his rational thinking near the end of the war and Marcus didn’t think it would have gotten any better after years of being gone— cut off from the magical world.

He honestly could see Rose agreeing with his ideals; his old ones at least. The Dark Lord wanted to restore the wizarding customs that had been lost throughout the years. Along the way it slowly turned into him wanting to slaughter Muggles, Muggleborns and anyone who said no to him, but his original goals were admiral. The kind Marcus knew Rose herself would support— her being an avid magic lover.

There were a lot of people who were certain the Dark Lord would return, at least in the Dark Pureblood circles; Marcus’s family among them. The Dark Marks hadn’t fully disappeared after the man vanished and that had a lot of them biding their time, feeling hopeful he would return one day.

Some remained openly loyal, most of which were in Azkaban now, while others pretended to see the light. 

See: Lucius Malfoy.

When the Dark Lord returned, he would have a very skewered view on things, Marcus thought to himself. The only information Lucius Malfoy had on the Potter twins came from his son and Severus Snape. The two most biased people he could learn from.

He wondered if the Malfoy Lord knew of Rose’s position in Slytherin. His son didn’t, and usually it was the children who kept their parents in the loop on how things worked.

Marcus thought of the inner circle members, wondering if any of them had any clue about the changing tides that were approaching. Malfoy. Snape. The Lestranges. Karkaroff. Crabbe. Goyle. There were others, some Marcus hadn’t been able to figure out as of yet, but of the ones he had, he didn’t see them getting any viable information.

Marcus startled when he suddenly felt a poke on his cheek.

Rose was eyeing him with a raised brow, clearly wondering what he was thinking so hard about. Giving a small laugh, Marcus shook his head and gestured back to the hall in a silent request. The two left the small alcove behind, both their minds whirring with different topics that would stay in their minds for weeks to come.

So, Professor Lupin was a werewolf.

Rose had told Harry as such not long after their disastrous class with Snape. She even had some pretty solid evidence backing up her theory; not that Harry doubted her, he knew his sister wouldn’t be wrong about something like this.

Honestly, Harry didn’t particularly care. He knew that werewolves for the most part were judged for the actions of a fair few, him and Rose had discussed it avidly over the summer after she read a book about them. While others may be afraid; looking at the thin, poorly dressed man, Harry had a hard time stirring up any kind of fear. Also, Lupin was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts professor they ever had! Harry felt like he learned more this year than in the last two years combined. So Harry was keeping his mouth shut on the word, not even telling Ron or Hermione— although things were still a bit complicated with those two.

Harry was upset with Lupin himself at the moment though. When another Hogsmeade trip came up Harry and Ron went, much to Hermione’s protests, what followed was a series of events that started off as hilarious but ended with Malfoy seeing him in the village. Harry had to race back to school where he promptly ran into Snape who then ordered Harry to turn out his pockets.

What happened next had Harry wanting to burst out laughing while simultaneously taking ten years off of his life.

The map insulted Snape. Really well, too. The four creators of the map spelled out a number of insults to the miserable professor which had Snape seething.

How was Lupin connected to this? Well Snape had called Lupin— saying something about the map maybe being a dark artifact, rubbish— and the man had calmly defused the situation. After Lupin easily led them out of Snape’s office Lupin then took the time to not so subtly tell Harry that he was wasting his parents' sacrifice.

At the time he had felt a swarm of guilt at the man's words but later on when he had time to think things over, Harry found he was furious. Who did that man think he was? He was just some professor and he was going to tell Harry how he should feel about his parents? He was going to so casually mention their death as if he had any right to?

Harry had ranted on and on to Rose, who was also irritated at the man’s callous choice of words too. Harry was a child, a fact the adults around here seemed to forget when it was convenient for them; Dumbledore the worst of them all. Yet they wanted to berate him for making a stupid decision? The vast majority of kids in this school made stupid decisions everyday— some older than Harry even— yet because he was Harry Potter, he got a more vicious lashing about things.

(Rose knew this was a fact after talking to Marcus about Harry’s punishment in first year, something the boy said was very out of turn for McGonagall. Fifty points for being out after curfew?)

Bringing their parents into things when dressing him down was beyond over the line. It was something no professor had the right to do, regardless of their opinion on the matter. It was unprofessional and honestly, as the adult, Lupin should have known better.

Still, Rose couldn’t help but point out that Lupin was friends with their dad in their Hogwarts days.

That just had Harry scowling.

“Couldn’t have been too close if Dad’s own kids never even heard of him before...”

To be fair, a lot of Harry’s ire was stirred up over the results of Buckbeak's trial.

After the Hogsmeade trip Hermione had found the two boys and tearfully told them the results. A date had been set for Buckbeak’s execution. Hermione and Rose had been dutifully helping Hagrid with his case, although on separate times. Rose had meticulously gone through the wizarding law books that Marcus had given her— skimming this time around as they were on a bit of a time crunch. She’d make sure to go back to reread and do her customary writing on the topic later on.

Still despite the time she put into finding something to help, Rose had not been hopeful of the outcome. While she did find numerous laws supporting Hagrid, there were just as many condemning him; or— Buckbeak really. When she spoke to Marcus on the subject the boy told her that with an even case like that it would more than likely come down to politics.

Lucius Malfoy had a lot of friends in high places and wasn’t afraid about getting his hands dirty to get his desired results.

There were only two good outcomes that followed from the whole unfortunate situation. The first was that Hermione and Ron worked things out, the former finally apologizing for Ron’s loss and the latter awkwardly agreeing to the consensus that Scabbers had been really old.

The second good outcome didn’t come till their next Care of Magical Creatures class. Harry, Rose, Ron, and Hermione had tried to reassure Hagrid that he’d done his best and there was still the appeal, but it did little to cheer the man up. When the group had been heading up to the castle they were greeted with the sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggering at Hagrid's pain. What followed was, as Ron would describe, one of the greatest things to ever happen at Hogwarts.

Hermione slapped Malfoy with all the strength she could muster.

The cowardly blond didn’t stick around much longer after that, especially since Hermione got her wand out immediately after. Rose hadn’t been able to hold back her laugh of disbelief at the normally rule-abiding-girl's temper. Merlin, she couldn’t wait to tell Marcus.

She had silently broken off from the trio after that— the Gryffindors would be heading to Charms soon— and made her way to the Slytherin dorms. She wanted to go through her books from Marcus more thoroughly now. 

Her interest in wizarding law was certainly piqued but Marcus had said she would be able to keep them for as long as she needed, while the wizarding customs books she could only keep till the end of the year. That meant that she needed to get started on them straight away, not that she was complaining as it was a very interesting topic as well.

Marcus had gathered a lot more law books than wizarding customs books, she actually only had four books on the latter while there were fourteen on the former. The fact did little to dishearten Rose though, she’d work with what she got.

Stepping through the entrance way, Rose strolled through the Slytherin common room. There were only a few people scattered throughout the room and she paid her peer’s little mind. Heading towards the dorms, she began the climb up to the third-year’s rooms, absently noting that this walk would get more and more tedious as her dorm room slowly moved up each flight of stairs.

When Rose stepped into her room she locked the door behind her— something she had been doing since her first year— and her eyes scanned the long since common look of her dorm room. Plastered up on her walls were various notes and copies of certain pages from the books she read. Some were excerpts of information, others were spells she was practicing doing wandlessly. There were a few pictures on the wall above her bed; her and Harry. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. All four of them. Coiled on a pillow charmed to stay warm on her vanity was Jörmy; now an extra two inches longer.

The snake was a surprisingly good conversationalist; far smarter than the few garden snakes she spoke to as a child.

Ignoring him for now, Rose crossed to her trunk, digging through it to find the bag Marcus had given her. Though she doubted anyone other than the house-elves who took care of the school would be in her room, she still made sure to put all the books back in the bag and tuck them away whenever she was done reading.

She felt a distant trill of triumph when her hand finally grasped the strap of the bag, pulling it upward at once. She tossed it on the bed then grabbed an elastic off her wrist, tying her hair back as she walked to her bedside table. Grabbing the notebook she had gotten for Christmas, now one of her most prized possessions, Rose slid on the bed, double checking to make sure she had what she needed.

Notebook: Check. Reading materials: Check. Self-filling quill: Check.

Rifling through the bag she pulled out the four books on wizarding customs and looked through them decisively. They each looked old, their titles slightly faded, and their spines worn. Eventually she picked up the one that was a deep purple colour and had the title; The Wheel of The Year.

From the brief glance Rose had given the books the first day she got them she knew two of them were about Pureblood children and the various expectations they had as an heir to a family, one was on the duties of a Lord of a Pureblood family and the last, the one she was planning to read now, was essentially about wizarding holidays.

Thinking over her topic she opened her notebook and it opened easily to a mostly blank page. The only thing written on it was the title she had written on Christmas morning.

“Hungry.”

Rose glanced over at Jörmy with barely disguised amusement. “You just had a mouse this morning,” she hissed back, before returning to her task.

Opening the book, she skipped past the index and went straight to the first chapter: THE WHEEL OF THE YEAR.

Since the beginning of our time, magical beings have lived by The Wheel of The Year. A continuous cycle split up into eight sabbats that represent the cycle of all things: birth followed by death, then renewal. Turning constantly, as surely as night follows day and summer follows winter.

Two of the sabbats occur at solstices— the longest and shortest days of the year— and two occur at equinoxes— when day and night are at equal lengths. Between each of these four minor sabbats are four major sabbats.

On each sabbat our people honour magic, nature and all else we are blessed with, doing so by completing rituals and customs as old as time as well as engaging in deep reflection. Typically this time is spent with loved ones, celebrating life and magic and in turn receiving blessings of life and magic.

 

THE FOUR MAJOR SABBATS

Samhain. October 31 st 

• Often referred to as All Hallows Eve, Samhain, while marking the end of the harvest season, is when the year begins. Plants die and the souls of the dead return. It is a time to prepare to descend into stillness. 

 

Imbolc. February 2 nd

• A time to celebrate the first signs of spring; the darkest days are over and the earth is prepared to burst with life. A time for introspection and setting goals.

 

Beltane. May 1 st

• A day that marks the coming summer. A festival of fertility, plants sprout rapid growth. It is a time of development and learning.

 

Lughnasadh. August 1 st

• Often referred to as Harvest Eve, Lughnasadh is the first harvest. An acknowledgment and celebration of the waning of light – it is the initiation of Winter preparation. Plants are fruiting. It is a time to be grateful for what has been created. 

 

THE FOUR MINOR SABBATS

The four minor sabbats are often four days in length, with one date being a time for the more major rituals to take place.

Yule. (Winter Solstice) December 20th – 23rd

• The heart of rituals for Yule take place on the 21st. It is the shortest day of the year but the longest night. In the heart of this sabbat plants are dormant. It is a time for stillness, rest and recuperation.

 

Litha. (Summer Solstice) June 20th – 23rd

• The heart of rituals for Litha take place on the 21st. It is the longest day of the year but the shortest night. It is a time of intense, active energy and powerful magic.

 

Ostara (Spring Equinox) March 20th – 23rd

• The heart of rituals for Ostara take place on the 21st. It marks the first day of spring. Germination begins. It is a time of powerful energetic release. 

 

Mabon (Autumn Equinox) September 20th – 23rd

• The heart of rituals for Mabon take place on the 21st. It is a date that marks the second harvest. A time when night and day are divided equally. Seeds are dispersed. It is a time to take responsibility for our actions.

 

As Rose read on, she couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the magical holidays and those of pagans in the Muggle world.

It was not a topic she delved into surprisingly enough, only briefly passing over the subject before Petunia found one of the books she had gotten from the library and burned it. At the time Rose was young enough to not want to bother with the hassle of sneaking another book on the subject into the house.

She felt a sense of animosity at Petunia at now, thinking about how close she had gotten to knowing some magical customs— however unknowingly it would’ve been. She absently decided to go to a library or bookstore over the summer and find some books on paganism, she was curious to see how similar they were.

Were these once what everyone— magical and Muggle alike— celebrated before it was pushed aside for the more Christian customs? Did the Muggles that still celebrated these holidays have old magical connections? Were they descendants of Squibs who continued to teach what they knew to their children and so on?

Rose wound up spending the rest of her evening in that same spot, not having any classes to attend to later on that day. She’d miss out on hearing about Hermione’s strange behaviour and her dramatic exit from Divination straight away but she would not be terribly upset about it. Rose made her way through each of the books, carefully marking down notes and queries she’d try to find more answers to later and thought to herself that it had been an informative evening.

Harry had been in high spirits lately. He had won the Quidditch Cup against Slytherin, beating out Malfoy for the snitch at the last second, and the weather had lightened up as well, bringing the sun out as June approached them.

His brief bout of worry about seeing a Grim the night before the match had passed and left his mind entirely.

The joy couldn’t last too long though as exams were now approaching. It was a time of year that always made Harry grateful for his sister. He tended to panic at the sheer amount of information they had to study but Rose always found a way to break it down into less overwhelming increments.

Hermione seemed to be falling apart in front of their very eyes these days. Her determination to take every class quickly caught up with her during exam prep time— that’s even with her dropping Divination. Even her exam schedule looked like a mess, with some classes overlapping with each other. She quickly shut down any inquiries on the subject though and given her precarious state of mind lately, Harry and Ron decided not to push it.

Harry had all his main courses to study for, plus Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, and Arithmancy. Honestly, the only ones he was outright worried about was History of Magic and Divination. The former because the exams were always hard as Binns never taught what he was supposed to and the latter because he was pants at it. Divination because it mostly consisted of him and Ron making up stuff and his professor predicting his upcoming ‘death’.

Honestly, he could not wait to drop that class.

Potions had also been a bit of a disaster but Harry had managed it well enough— well, as well as he could with Snape as a teacher— thanks to his sister's tips she made him memorise before the exam. Though his potion hadn’t been the worst in class, Harry was sure he saw Snape write a zero when he looked over his.

Harry didn’t let this bother him too much as Rose said that these kinds of exams didn’t really offer much sway on future careers; it was the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s that mattered, those were watched over by Ministry officials, and Rose promised that she’d have Harry ready for both.

Hermione’s Defence Against the Dark Art’s exam had gone well until she got to the boggart. Apparently Ron’s previous guess of her biggest fear being a failing mark had not been far off.

Rose had a bit of an interesting interaction after her Ancient Runes exam.

She had just handed in the exam, the first one to do so, when Professor Babbling waved for her to stay. She offered the professor a questioning look that had gone unseen as Professor Babbling quickly scanned her exam with an unsurprised expression.

With a quick wave of her wand their conversation was muted for those still writing, Rose’s exam still in Babblings other hand, and she looked up at Rose with eyes that were perpetually beady and intense. “Having you in this class is a downright waste.”

Resisting the urge to be offended, Rose just waited for the woman to explain.

“I’ve been giving you the same work as my fifth years for the last two months and you have been keeping up pace easily.” She informed the serious looking girl. “I suspected this exam would be far below your level, despite it being the fourth-year exam.”

Dropping the exam, she reached out for a scroll on her desk, handing it to Rose insistently.

Rose opened the thing slowly, taking in the Ministry of Magic logo at the top and directly beneath that the title Department of Magical Education.  “I arranged for you to take your O.W.L.s over the summer. The dates are on there. Head to the Ministry, go to that department and they’ll get you all sorted out.” Turning back to her professor, Rose watched as the woman smirked faintly. “You’ll start with the sixth-years next year.”

Rose was unable to resist the urge to smile, a small almost non-existent thing, and she gave her professor a grateful nod, heading out of class without another word.

Rose couldn’t wait to tell Harry after she was done, heading to the library where her brother was waiting for her. She had eagerly pushed the scroll into his hand and waited impatiently for him to finish reading. The proud grin he shot her afterwards was one that would stay in her mind for days later, always happy when she managed to impress Harry in some way.

They had another encounter with Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, again during exam time. The man came to the school in preparation for Buckbeak's upcoming execution, which according to him would take place this afternoon. Ron had been indignant over their presence as the appeal was still set to take place but had quickly been silenced by Hermione who reminded him that the man was his dad’s boss.

The last and final nail in the coffin to their otherwise lingering happy mood was Harry’s Divination exam.

Harry had rushed to tell them when the thing was over. It had started normal enough, with Harry stubbornly refusing to predict Buckbeak’s death, which no doubt cost him points, and ending with Professor Trelawney sending him off. Before the boy had exited the room though, the professor had suddenly spoken in a very strange voice.

The woman had made a prophecy.

Harry only had the chance to tell Rose, who had been waiting in the hall for him to finish his exam. He dragged her alongside him, hurriedly retelling exactly what happened at the end of his rather abysmal exam and rushed to find Ron and Hermione to tell them too. Only when the twins found the two, they were met with Ron’s stony expression and Hermione’s tear-filled eyes.

Buckbeak lost his appeal.

The evening, and morning, that followed was as chaotic as every end of year so far. It could be summarized with a series of factual statements.

1. Sirius Black was innocent.
2. Scabbers was alive and actually Peter Pettigrew.
3. Professor Lupin was a werewolf. (A surprise only to Ron.)
4. Snape was a vindictive piece of trash. (A surprise to no one.)
5. Peter Pettigrew betrayed their parents.
6. Professor Lupin forgot to take his special potion for the full moon.
7. Hermione had a Time Turner.
8. Harry, Rose, and Hermione set Sirius Black free.
9. Snape suffered a severe loss. (That was a happy bonus.)

When they raced after Ron into the roots of the Whomping Willow they hadn’t been sure what they would find. Still, it was a surprise to find themselves inside the infamous Shrieking Shack. They found Ron clutching his leg in one of the rooms and waiting behind the door was—

Sirius Black.

Harry had put up a good fight; actually swinging fists and everything. The rage he had buried in his chest finally came out when faced with the man they believed to have betrayed their parents. By the time the squabble ended Sirius Black was on the ground without a wand and Harry had his wand aimed directly at the man's chest.

Rose knew Harry wouldn’t be able to do it in the end. Her kind-hearted brother who still referred to their relatives by aunt and uncle, who forgave his classmates so quickly after they had turned their back on him. She knew he didn’t have it in his heart to see the end of this man.

But Rose did.

She had been ready to do so. Wand already in hand, fingers twisting around it tightly, ready to step forward and do what her brother couldn’t bring himself to do. Rose never got the chance to though, right when she was ready to move there had been a sound elsewhere in the house and Hermione started shouting for them to come quick. It was a good thing, she supposed, Black had been innocent of all crimes and the real culprit was revealed.

(Rose was glad she made the decision to keep as far away as possible from that rat since first meeting it.)

After everything was said and done the group made their way out of the Shrieking Shack and back to the castle. Ron with his temporarily fixed leg, Lupin, a sniffling Pettigrew, Hermione, Crookshanks, Harry, Rose, Sirius and an unconscious Snape. A very odd group indeed.

For a few glorious minutes Harry thought they finally had their way out from the Dursleys.

The full moon had other ideas. Lupin transformed. Ron was stunned. Pettigrew ran. Sirius had been quick to distract Lupin’s werewolf form, ordering the kids to run. Harry did not listen, of course, and Rose and Hermione quickly joined him.

What happened after made Rose wish she at least attempted to learn the Patronus Charm with her brother. Well over a hundred dementors swooped in on them from above and not even sheer stubbornness could stop any of them from passing out. It was luck in the end that they were saved by—

Harry?

Really, Rose was fine with leaving the whole Time Turner thing alone. She’d eventually try and figure it out at a later date but at the moment her brain was too tired to do so.

They helped Sirius escape and he was still a wanted criminal, but considering the almost alternative they were happy. (Also, Buckbeak escaped as well.)

Harry was upset. Oh, he did his best to hide it, but he was.

The twins had been in the Defence Against the Dark Art’s classroom talking to Lupin— also getting the map that he had taken from Harry so long ago back— while the man got ready to make his variation of a graceful exit, when Dumbledore joined them. Harry had sat down in Lupin’s vacated chair, staring glumly at the floor while his sister patted his back in comfort. They heard the door close and when Harry looked up Dumbledore was still there.         

“Why so miserable, Harry?” he said quietly. “You should be very proud of yourself after last night.”

Rose vehemently resisted the urge to scoff. Yeah, it was an amazing thing Harry did— well Harry, Rose, and Hermione— but this man shouldn’t be so encouraging of children risking their lives when, without a doubt, Dumbledore could have taken care of things.

She listened with half an ear as her brother and Dumbledore continued to talk, the latter of each continuously praising Harry subtly for his life risking actions.

That was the thing Rose hated the most about the headmaster. Year after year they were always involved in some deadly situation that always felt like a kind of test. Like he was seeing how far they were willing to go for the right thing— for him.

Rose wasn’t going to let it go so far that Harry would be willing to die if this man said so. No way in hell.     

“I don’t want a connection with Pettigrew! He betrayed our parents!” 

Rose turned back to the conversation at her brother’s shout, resuming the soothing movement of her hand on his back that she hadn’t realized she had stopped. She knew without giving much thought what Dumbledore had been referring to. Harry had stopped Black and Lupin from killing Pettigrew after all.

Marcus told her all about life-debts last year. Rose had made a point to mention it after Dumbledore gave them Snape’s reasoning for helping them as their father ‘saving Snape’s life’. Life-debts were a powerful thing in the magical world— binding things.

And Pettigrew now owed one to Harry.

She’d explain it more to him later. Dumbledore didn’t seem to want to explain it in the deepest of terms, instead skirting around the seriousness of it, but Rose would tell him.

All in all, the end of the year felt rather bittersweet; although, when didn’t it?

As they boarded the train ride to head home Hermione announced that she was also dropping Muggle Studies alongside Divination and would be taking a normal course load next year. Thank Merlin. Ron had boggled at her dropping Muggle Studies as she had gotten a one hundred and twenty percent on the exam itself, but Hermione didn’t seem to be upset over it.

Harry had dropped Divination, rather gleefully at that, much to the other three’s amusement. He had done pretty great on all his other exams too, Potions most surprisingly of all, though Harry was sure that Dumbledore stepped in to stop Snape from giving Harry an unfair mark.

Harry was also proud to say he got the highest mark in Defence Against the Dark Arts, something that had Rose beaming at him much to his joy.

While Ron and Hermione chatted back and forth Harry gazed forlornly at Hogwarts as it disappeared behind a mountain range. He didn’t even blink as his sister, and he knew it had to be Rose, grabbed his hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

“Oh, cheer up, Harry!” Hermione said sadly.         

“I’m okay,” Harry was quick to say. “Just thinking about the holidays.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about them too,” Ron told him eagerly “Harry, you and Rose got to come and stay with us. I’ll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I’ll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now—”

“A telephone, Ron,” Hermione interrupted. “Honestly, you should take Muggle Studies next year…”  

Ron ignored her.     

“It’s the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry? Come and stay, and we’ll go and see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work.” Rose wrinkled her nose at the prospect of going to a Quidditch game, which Ron noticed straight away. “Come on, Ro’! You’ll get to meet my other brothers too! They will for sure come with us.”

Harry looked at his sister with a hopeful grin, not worried about her saying no but wanting her to agree faster. Rolling her eyes with a huff, Rose nodded.

“The Dursley’s should be happy to see us go after what happened to Aunt Marge,” Harry mused happily.

In a considerably better mood, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rose played several games of Exploding Snap and when the witch with the tea cart arrived Harry made sure to buy him and his sister a very large lunch. No sweets. Just thinking about what their meals would be like this summer had him anxious.

That anxious feeling had left him by late afternoon when something unexpected showed up.       

“Harry,” Hermione said suddenly, peering over his shoulder. “What’s that thing outside your window?”

Harry turned to look outside, Rose and Ron peering over as well. Something very small and grey was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass. Harry stood up for a better look and quickly realized it was a tiny owl carrying a letter far too big for it. Seeing the animal struggling to stay upright, Harry quickly pulled down the window, stretched out his arm, and caught it. It felt like a very fluffy Snitch, and he pulled it inside very carefully.      

The owl instantly dropped the letter on the seat between Harry and Rose’s and began zooming around their compartment. Hedwig clicked her beak with a sort of dignified disapproval at the small owls' obvious preening over finishing its task. Crookshanks sat up intently, following the owl with his great yellow eyes. Ron was quick to snatch the owl safely out of harm’s way when he noticed this.

When Rose made no move to pick up the letter Harry grabbed it. It had both their names on the front and when he ripped it open, he excitedly said, “It’s from Sirius!”

That had Rose lifting a brow, she honestly did not expect the man to reach out to them so soon— if at all.

At Ron and Hermione’s urging Harry began reading it out loud.    

Dear Harry and Rosie,       

I hope this finds the both of you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don’t know whether they’re used to owl posts.       

Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won’t tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job.       

I believe the dementors are still searching for me, but they haven’t a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted.       

There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt—        

“Ha!” Hermione said triumphantly. “See! I told you it was from him!”

Rose couldn’t hold back a smile at the girl’s quick enthusiasm.

“Yes, but he hadn’t jinxed it, had he?” Ron said readily. “Ouch!” The tiny owl now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way. 

–Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. I sent the notebook as well; it was a family heirloom and I got it from the Black Family house. It is a rather valuable piece of creation. Please consider them as thirteen birthdays’ worth of presents from your godfather.    

“What notebook?” Hermione asked in confusion.

Harry glanced at Rose who pulled out a fairly decent sized book out of her bag to show him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry asked.

Rose just glanced from Harry, to Hermione, then back, raising her brows meaningfully. “Ah,” Harry said in understanding, smiling faintly and turning back to the letter before Hermione could chime in.

I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle’s house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of the two of you before starting my journey North, but I think the sight of me alarmed you.       

I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable.       

If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me.       

I’ll write again soon.       

Sirius       

Harry pushed the letter into his sister’s hand and looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there. He read it through quickly and felt suddenly warm and content as though he’d swallowed a bottle of hot butterbeer in one gulp.      

I, Sirius Black, Harry and Rose Potter’s godfather, hereby give them permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends.      

“That’ll be good enough for Dumbledore!” Harry said happily. He felt Rose poke his side and glanced over as she showed him the bottom of Sirius’s letter. “Hang on, there’s a PS…”     

I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it’s my fault he no longer has a rat.       

Ron’s eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly. “Keep him?” he said uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to the other three’s great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.         

“What do you reckon?” Ron asked the cat. “Definitely an owl?”

Crookshanks purred.

“That’s good enough for me,” Ron said happily. “He’s mine.”

Harry and Rose took turns reading over the letter from Sirius all the way back into King’s Cross station. Both for very different reasons. 

Harry was gleeful to have someone write to him, someone who— if things had gone differently that night— would have taken them in. It was almost enough to quell the disheartened feeling that had lingered in his chest since he realized Sirius would have to flee. 

Rose was scanning it in order to discern what exactly the man wanted from them. Was he just another Dumbledore coming along to usher them in the direction he wanted? Or did he actually just want the best for them? She decided she’d have to wait it out a bit, more interactions with the man would help determine this in the future.

The letter was still clutched tightly in Harry’s hand as the four of them stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. 

Harry spotted Uncle Vernon at once. He was standing a good distance from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, eyeing them suspiciously, and when Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry and Rose in greeting, his worst suspicions about them seemed confirmed. 

“I’ll call about the World Cup!” Ron yelled after them as the twins bid him and Hermione goodbye, then with Hedwig’s cage in Harry’s hand— their trunks magically shrunken in Rose’s bag— they made their way toward their uncle, who greeted him in his usual fashion.    

“What’s that?” he snarled, staring at the envelope Harry was still clutching in his hand. “If it’s another form for me to sign, you’ve got another—”

“It’s not,” Harry said cheerfully. “It’s a letter from our godfather.”    

Rose smirked; well aware of what Harry was about to do.    

“Godfather?” Uncle Vernon sputtered. “You haven’t got a godfather!”         

“Yes, we have,” Harry countered brightly. “He was our mum and dad’s best friend. He’s a convicted murderer, but he’s broken out of wizard prison and he’s on the run. He likes to keep in touch with us, though… keep up with our news… check if we’re happy…”         

And, both twins now grinning broadly at the look of horror on their uncle’s face, the two set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along from her perch in her cage, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

Chapter Text

The summer after third year had been one of the best the twins ever had. With the looming threat of their thought-to-be murderous godfather hanging over their uncle’s head, the two hadn’t had to worry about any sort of bad behaviour from their relatives.

They still had chores of course, but far less than they’d normally get, and while they were given less food this summer, Harry and Rose were being sent food by their friends so they weren’t too worried. As it turns out Dudley’s school advised that he be put on a diet as the largest uniform they offered no longer fit him and their aunt decided a good morale booster was to show him that he still got more than the twins.

About three weeks into the summer break, Harry and Rose had made the trek to London, heading to the Ministry of Magic. The two asked Ron about how to get into the Ministry of Magic building while they were on the train ride back from Hogwarts and the boy easily explained, having been there before with his dad.

This led them to an abandoned red Muggle telephone booth, the two of them quickly slipping inside. It was rather plain and unassuming, which, granted, was clearly the whole point; there was not a speck of dirt inside and the windows were glossed over with an off-white colour that shielded them from the view of those outside. They shared one glance before Rose picked up the shiny black phone handle and dialled six-two-four-four-two. A voice had asked their business and, after they relayed just that, two buttons popped out of the bottom of the phone with Department of Magical Education: Visitors written on it.

“How do you feel?” Harry asked in a whisper as they descended downward in the booth, glancing around quickly.

Rose just tilted her head, before she lifted a hand to Harry’s face intently. Harry’s eyes crossed as he tried to watch what his sister was doing and he felt a faint sweeping sensation against his scar. He watched on as she then moved her hand to her throat and his eyes began to wander away from where he knew her scar should be.

Rose had started practicing a wandless Notice-Me-Not spell as soon as she could when they learnt they would need to come here. Obviously they didn’t want to garner a crowd of onlookers while doing this. Marcus told Rose if they were in a magically populated area then the charm for detecting underage magic wouldn’t be able to differentiate between adults and kids. He hadn’t been able to answer the question of whether or not the charm was on the child’s wand or just the child’s home though, so Rose didn’t want to risk using her wand.

When they finally stopped and the doors pulled open, they were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were panelled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.

Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him was a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur’s arrow, the tip of the goblin’s hat, and each of the house-elf’s ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks heard through the area and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards— most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks— strode toward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.

"Which way?” Harry wondered aloud, grabbing hold of Rose’s hand as he spoke, not wanting them to get separated. Rose just gestured forward, not entirely sure but hoping to get a better look around. The voice in the telephone booth had said the far end of the Atrium.

They joined the throng, manoeuvring their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases, and others reading newspapers as they walked. As they passed the fountain Harry saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting up at him from the bottom of the pool. A small, smudged sign beside it read:

All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will be given to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries 

Rose squeezed his hand once, already knowing what Harry was thinking, they’d leave a donation on their way out.

They stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees and visitors into a smaller open area. Scanning their surroundings for any clues, Harry suddenly spotted it. He pointed forward to a set of golden gates, next to it a desk on the left, over which hung a sign saying Security . A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet.

"We’re looking for the Department of Magical Education...” Harry offered unsurely.

“Step over here,” was all the wizard said in reply.

Harry walked closer to him first and the wizard held up a long golden rod, thin and flexible as a car aerial, and passed it up and down Harry’s front and back.

“Wand,” the security wizard grunted at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand.

Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.

“Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?”

“Yes,” Harry said nervously while Rose watched from the sides intently.

“I keep this,” the wizard told him, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. “You get this back,” he added, thrusting the wand at Harry.

“Thank you.”

He then gestured to Rose and repeated the same process. “Ten-and-a-half inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?”

Rose nodded silently at what seemed to be a repeated question for the bored looking man and waited for her wand to be handed back to her.

Throughout all of this the security guard hadn’t glanced at their scars once, Harry’s hidden behind his bangs for the most part while Rose’s was actually being hidden by the deep green turtleneck she was wearing. It wasn’t often she made an effort to hide the scar, having long since given up on it; even after learning the true meaning behind it. But today seemed like a good time to do so.

Mind you, with the Notice-Me-Not charm on them it was likely the extra stealth covering them was unneeded— but better safe than sorry.

When they were all set to go, Harry and Rose looked to each other for a moment then Harry turned to the guard.

“Er... do you know where the Department of Magical Education is?”

The man pointed ahead through the gates where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. “Just hop on, it’s your first stop, level eight.” He relayed in a bored tone of voice.

The wizard moved back behind his desk, obviously considering his job done, and picked up his momentarily discarded newspaper.

Rose grabbed hold of Harry’s hand and began pulling him forward with her, both of them getting jostled by the slightly smaller crowd. They stood in wait for another lift to appear amongst a group of people, glancing around themselves curiously.

It was with a great jangling and clattering that a lift descended in front of them; the golden grille slid back, and Harry and Rose moved inside it with the rest of the crowd. The two found themselves jammed against the back wall of the lift. Thankfully none of the wizards and witches inside paid them any mind, their own eyes fixed on the papers in their hands. The grilles slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling all the while, while the same cool female voice that they had heard in the telephone booth rang out again.

"Level Eight, Department of Magical Education.”

Rose squeezed Harry’s hand tightly; this was them.

The doors pulled open and the two didn’t hesitate for a second as they squeezed by the people in the lift and made their way into the hall. The room they emerged in was like one big semi-circle, with small seating areas on either side of the lift doors. Straight ahead, in the centre of the room, was a desk that wrapped right around an older looking witch sitting in the middle. To the left, directly behind and to the right of her were three identical dark doors with brass handles.

When the twins moved forward their footsteps echoed in the mostly empty room.

“Are you lost, dears?” The woman asked kindly as she set a book aside. She was an older looking woman, with dark hair that was tied back in a bun and streaked with greys and a pair of oversized glasses that perched low on her nose. She had deep lines around her mouth that spoke of someone who smiled often and her eyes were a warm brown as she looked the two of them over.

Harry and Rose stepped up to the desk and Harry shook his head. “No. Er—” He glanced at his sister quickly. “My sister is here to take her Ancient Runes O.W.L?”

Rose huffed quietly at Harry phrasing it like a question, a smile pulling at her mouth. She reached into her pocket for the scroll Professor Babbling had given her and slid it across the desk.

With a faint look of surprise, the woman unrolled the scroll and scanned it. “Ah,” she said. “So you’re the student Bathsheda was talking about.” Reaching under the desk she pulled out a stack of papers, a quill and an ink pot, passing them over to Rose. “Take these—” She pointed to the door on the right. “—head on in there and answer what you can then bring it back to me.” She waited a beat for Rose to nod in understanding and then went back to her book.

With one last look, Harry trying to smile encouragingly much to her amusement, Rose went off the third door. Harry stood in place awkwardly, glancing over at the woman who was engrossed in her book, and finally decided to go take a seat. If what the twins said was true then O.W.L.s could take a long time. Absently he wished he had brought a book to read while he waited.

There were five couches and chairs in the seating areas on either side of the lift. One couch against the wall and two single chairs side-by-side perpendicular to each end of the couch. In the middle of them was a small coffee table with a few magazines strewn atop it. Snagging one at random, Harry slouched back into one of the chairs, his eyes flickering to the door Rose went through then resting on the magazine he picked up.

A grin stretched across his face as he saw Quidditch Times in bold letters on the top and someone flying across the cover.

The next forty-five minutes moved on at a pace that was neither slow nor fast. Harry, fully engrossed in the magazine, didn’t even realize Rose had finished until he heard the witch at the desk speaking. Head turning, he saw Rose nod once and was quick to toss his magazine on the coffee table, not even glancing as it skittered half-hazardly across its surface, and pushed himself to a stand.

Rose met him halfway, smiling at Harry’s nervous look and giving him an awkward looking thumbs up. She grinned as Harry predictably laughed at the action— he always did.

The two hadn’t lingered any longer and made their way to the lift once again. Rose told Harry that she’d get her results in a few days by owl, something that had the two of them cringing at the thought of. At least their relatives couldn’t get too mad, what with Sirius still lingering on their minds.

The rest of the summer at Privet Drive had flown by and before they knew it the Weasleys had come to get them. Ron had been right about his father getting tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and had been quick to invite them. So, Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron had come to pick them up— through the Floo.

Boy, that had been a surprise.

It was slightly awkward at the end when Mr. Weasley had gotten a bit indignant on their behalf after their relatives refused to say bye. But that was nothing compared to that chaos that followed— courtesy of the Weasley twins.

Harry and Rose had been sent on, Rose heading on through first, quickly followed by Harry— the sounds of shouting following their exit. The two spun faster and faster, elbows tucked tightly to their sides and blurred fireplaces flashing past them. 

Rose stepped through first, keeping her footing easily enough with only a faint wobble. Ron was quick to reach out, not actually touching her but ready in case she lost her balance. She shot him a smile, appreciative of the boy's efforts, unneeded as they were. 

Harry came through with a lot less grace than his sister, hands shooting out just in time to keep him from falling face forward out of the Weasley’s kitchen fire. Fred was quicker to move forward than Ron had been, although for a very different reason.

“Did he eat it?” He asked excitedly, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet.

“Yeah,” Harry said, straightening up. “What was it?”

“Ton-Tongue Toffee,” Fred said brightly. “George and I invented them, and we’ve been looking for someone to test them on all summer...”

The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter; Harry looked over and saw Ron standing by Rose while George was sitting at the wooden table with two red-haired people that neither he nor Rose had ever seen before, though they both knew immediately who they must be: Bill and Charlie, the two eldest Weasley brothers. 

“How’re you guys doing?” The nearer of the two asked, holding out a large hand that was full of calluses and blisters. 

Harry grabbed hold of it, knowing instantly that this had to be Charlie. Ron said he worked with dragons in Romania— had sent people to come get Norbert back in their first year. He was built like the twins, on the shorter side but far stockier than Ron and Percy. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weatherbeaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.

As Charlie moved to shake Rose’s hand, Bill got to his feet, a welcoming smile on his face as he shook Harry’s hand. Bill was— well he was a surprise. After everything Ron had told them about Bill, Harry was expecting someone who was like an older version of Percy. 

That was definitely not the case. 

Bill was— there was no other word for it— cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill’s clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide.

With introductions out of the way, Ron turned to Rose with an excited look. “So, how’d it go?”

Rose shrugged, making a so-and-so motion with her hand, though her eyes were gleaming and Ron knew without any other word that she did great; not that he was expecting anything less.

“How’d what go?” Fred and George asked as one, glancing between both twins curiously.

“She got an Outstanding!” Harry answered happily.

Ron easily read the confusion on his brother’s faces and helpfully informed them. “Ro’ went to take her Ancient Runes O.W.L. earlier this summer.”

“What?” Charlie said in shock, his brows going high on his forehead.

Fred snorted. “Typical youngsters,” he said in a theatrical voice.

“Always have to show up their elders.” George finished in a faux put out voice.

Rose rolled her eyes, well used to the twin's antics by now.

“You’re interested in runes?” Bill asked rather rhetorically.

Now Harry and Ron snorted. “Try obsessed.” Harry corrected. “Has been since our first year at Hogwarts.”

Before any of them could say anything else, there was a faint popping noise, and Mr. Weasley appeared out of thin air at George’s shoulder. He was looking angrier than either twin had ever seen him.

Mr. Weasley spent the next few moments chewing the twins out while they stubbornly told him that they didn’t pull the prank because he was a Muggle but rather that he was a git. Mrs. Weasley made her appearance not long after that, Hermione and Ginny trailing behind her, and the younger set of twins and Ron hastily made their exit.

As they ascended the stairs, they could hear Mrs. Weasley talking about Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

“What’s Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes?” Harry asked as they got out of earshot.

“Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George’s room,” Ron told them quietly. “Great long price lists for stuff they’ve invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they’d been inventing all that...”

That was interesting. While Rose knew the Weasley twins had the air of uncaring and troublesome about them, they were far cleverer than most would give them credit for. Oh, sure, it didn’t exactly show in written tests— Ron telling them how their mother was furious at their O.W.L. results— but it showed in their ingenuity.

Learning a craft was hard, memorizing everything you would need to know in order to succeed at it. But creating a craft was exceedingly harder. Not everyone had it in them to be able to come up with a brand-new idea and bring it to life.

Rose also knew that while the Weasley Twins were a bit of a thorn in the side, there were a fair few Slytherin’s who admired their cunning ways. Honestly, she was mildly surprised neither of them had become snakes themselves. Their ambition alone was something to marvel at.

Apparently, Mrs. Weasley did not agree.

Not everyone was meant to roam the halls of the Ministry of Magic though, as the mother of seven wanted her children to do, however one person who most assuredly was—

“Hi, Percy.”

“Oh hello, Harry, Rose,” Percy said, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression. “I was wondering who was making all the noise. I’m trying to work in here, you know— I’ve got a report to finish for the office— and it’s rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs.”

“We’re not thundering,” Ron said irritably. “We’re walking. Sorry if we’ve disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic.”

“What are you working on?” Harry asked politely.

Rose continued on upwards without waiting for the boy’s response. If the letters Marcus sent her were reliable— and they almost always were— then Percy’s answer wouldn’t hold much interest for her.

The twins got settled in Ron’s bedroom, the squeeze inside growing tighter and tighter with each year they grew. Ron then, after very untactfully getting rid of Ginny, asked the twins about Sirius.

Their godfather had messaged them multiple times throughout the summer, sending word with some rather extravagant looking birds; he even sent a cake on their birthday, which was a nice surprise. Rose knew Harry was absolutely taken with Sirius. He was a physical embodiment of everything the two of them had wished for when they were five— the very thing Harry still wished for as a teenager.

Rose wasn’t so quick to get attached to the man though. Years of being let down by adults who seemed to want the best for them only to leave them high and dry had taught her to wait for the other shoe to drop first. She couldn’t deny that the man obviously cared for them beyond the whole Potter twin fame that they had to deal with— which was far more than most could say. But with the wizarding world Rose had learnt everyone had their limit and that limit usually involved Albus Dumbledore.

Rose hadn’t told Marcus about her godfather yet and hadn't wanted to do so over a letter. Now that the boy had graduated from Hogwarts she was unsure about how she’d be able to keep him informed on certain things— and vice versa of course. She was also mildly surprised to find that she was rather disappointed that he would no longer be in school with her, his companionship was one she’d slowly grown to be fond of.

Marcus never really expected anything from her by way of conversation, yet he’d seek her out often. Ron and Hermione were the only other people she knew who did the same thing, although Hermione would get frustrated at the lack of communication on occasion. There was also the fact that if she or Ron were in an argument Rose would have to avoid them both altogether, not interested in listening to their squabble or taking sides. That was never something she had to worry about with Marcus; the older boy was solid. Consistent.

To be fair, she had been warming up to Adrian and Graham, although not anywhere near the level she had with Marcus. Since showing Adrian the Chamber of Secrets the boy had been nothing but faithful. He was still a bit of a grouch, but that was just his overall personality more than anything else. Graham she had gotten to know throughout third year, Marcus thinking it would be a good idea to have more than just Adrian as an ‘inner member’. The boy was best friends with Adrian and trusted his word on things, and he had been on the flanks of Marcus’ crew when he was the head. So when Adrian told him about Rose’s place in the hierarchy and suggested that he start hanging out with them more, the boy readily agreed.

Nevertheless, Rose hoped that Marcus would find a way for them to be able to communicate safely, which the boy had been alluding to at the end of last year.

Summer with the Weasleys was just like it always was— far better than the Dursleys.

Rose had been downright thrilled with Bill, the older boy having a passion for Ancient Runes that easily rivalled her own. He had been more than happy to tell her about some of the tombs he had explored while in Egypt and discussed his own experiences with learning the subject.

Harry and Ron had neither the patience nor interest to stick around for the latter and were quick to start up Quidditch matches with everyone else.

Charlie and Harry spent a good chunk of time sharing stories about their best Seeker moments and the latter had been thrilled to hear first hand from Charlie about his Quidditch days. Oliver Wood had often regaled the team with stories about the second eldest Weasley, despite most of them witnessing said-stories first hand, and Harry always had so many questions that the former-captain couldn’t answer.

The Quidditch World Cup was quite the experience. Not all good either.

Harry and Rose had marvelled at seeing numerous families all about, watching the occasional child perform accidental magic while their parents tried to stop things from getting out of hand. Seeing other wizards from other countries was interesting as well— apparently their fame stretched rather far as the Minister of Bulgaria had recognized them as soon as he saw their scars.

Rose absently made a note to look into the differences in spell-casting for different languages, curious at how it might differ compared to English speakers. Were there different spells in other languages that did the exact same things as one in English? Was there a sort of organization that kept track of all these kinds of things?

Merlin, she hoped she didn’t get distracted and forget about all this before writing it down when they got back to the Burrow.

Harry had been overjoyed at watching a professional Quidditch match, scanning each of the moves intently and absently wanting to try some of them out himself. Rose had held a mild interest in it, but it was more that she got caught up in the crowd’s excitement rather than any actual enjoyment in the sport itself. She was still firm in the belief that if Harry wasn’t playing then it wasn’t really worth watching.

But, as with all moments in their lives, it couldn’t be all good things.

The night after the match they were woken up by a pale but determined Mr. Weasley and were quickly ushered outside the tent they were staying in. What awaited them looked to be pure chaos.

People wearing white skull masks were outside and the Muggles who lived in the area were being levitated above them. The screams and shouts as people fled rang in their ears and to make matters worse as Harry, Rose, Ron, and Hermione stumbled their way into the woods surrounding them a voice rang out and—

Hovering in the sky above them was the Dark Mark. Harry hadn’t recognized it at first, but Rose had. She had looked into Voldemort extensively when she first realized he would be coming back and the Dark Mark was just one of the many things she had found. The sight of it spoke of very bad things; practically a token of death during the First War apparently.

She quietly informed Harry about the meaning of the image in the sky while Ron hurriedly urged them along through the forest surrounding the open field they had been camping in. His eyes darted all around them all the while, in search of the twins and Ginny who they lost in the bustle and he kept a tight grip on Hermione’s list as though worried she’d disappear too.

Honestly, if he wasn’t already hanging on to her, Harry and Rose would have been.

After a brief interaction with some Ministry officials who were apparently just as inept as any other adult in the wizarding world— thankfully Mr. Weasley had been around to deescalate the situation— they soon made their exit back to their tents.

Though the odds of them getting a good rest were clearly out the window.

Harry and Rose both couldn’t help but think back to something that happened earlier this summer, just before they came to the Weasleys. The two had a strange dream about Voldemort and now, with Death Eaters and the Dark Mark making an appearance, they both felt sure that it was not a good sign for the future.

Harry had written to Sirius almost as soon as they awoke, telling the man about their scars hurting when the dream ended. They also informed Ron and Hermione about the incident the day after the attack as well and the two reacted like Harry thought they would.

They had yet to receive a reply from Sirius, but that was not uncommon. Sirius was still on the run, as Rose had pointed out to an often-worried Harry, and it could be a while for an owl to make the trek.

The next morning their tired but tightly wrung group quietly packed their things and they returned to the Burrow where a pale and shaken Mrs. Weasley was waiting for them. She had been quick to hug Fred and George first, wracked with guilt after having argued with the two the day they had left, before pulling the rest of the group into tight hugs as well, her relief practically palpable.

It was a rather poor ending to their summer and both the twins were feeling a bit anxious about their upcoming return to Hogwarts.

Their return to Hogwarts was about the same as ever. A long and rather boring train ride with the customary visit from little Malfoy— honestly was it in the boy’s itinerary to visit them each year? Adrian and Graham had sought her out at one point as well, not long after Malfoy vacated their compartment, and quietly asked to speak to her.

She went without any protest, shooting her brother a look when it looked like he would do just that.

The two had led her to what must’ve been the compartment the both of them were sharing, no one else in sight when they opened the door. Rose slid in easily enough, taking a seat on one side while Adrian and Graham sat across from her.

The boys had grown over the summer, although their general appearances hadn’t changed much. 

Graham Montague was always a very pale boy, his skin like porcelain; that, coupled with his dark lush eyelashes, made his striking icy blue eyes stand out vividly. His hair, a deep brown colour that at times looked almost blond in certain lighting, was as neatly combed as curls like his could be, and Rose noticed that his face had lost some of the roundness it held last year, his jaw now sharp and defined. 

Adrian was the same as ever, his facial features simply growing more defined. Tall. Dark. Broody.

They were both dressed in dark, no doubt expensive, robes, though Graham’s top few buttons remained undone, the boy always favouring a more casual look. Or, at least as casual as most Slytherin Pureblood heirs would allow themselves to look.

Adrian looked at Rose with serious eyes and grabbed his bag, pulling out a leather-bound notebook. “This is from Marcus.” He told her as he handed it over. “It’s so the two of you can talk without using an owl. He has the matching book.”

Rose’s brow ticked up in interest as she eyed the book. She couldn’t remember coming across anything like it in her readings; she’d have to ask Marcus more about it later.

She glanced back up at the two boys with an expectant look. She highly doubted they brought her here just to give her this book, they could have easily done so around Harry and the others. They must have something to tell her that they didn’t want the three Gryffindors overhearing.

“Hogwarts is hosting a tournament this year,” Adrian said deeply, sitting back in his seat comfortably, rubbing at his wrist with one hand. “The Triwizard Tournament.”

Rose tilted her head with a frown. It was a title she wasn’t at all familiar with.

“It’s where the three European schools get together and compete in a series of tasks,” Graham spoke up, sensing her confusion. “Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang.” He shared a look with Adrian. 

“The death rate was said to be very high, it’s why they stopped hosting the tournament all together.”

Rose pursed her lips. The feeling of dread she had only continued to grow with the more each boy spoke. Considering her and her brother’s luck, she figured that something was going to go wrong with the tournament, and it would probably involve one of them, if not both.

At least she knew now what little Malfoy was talking about. The boy had been beside himself with glee when he realised no one in their compartment was aware of whatever ‘big thing’ would be taking place at Hogwarts this year.

“Each school gets a ‘champion’ and they compete in their school's name. Winner gets fame and fortune— according to the books.” Adrian added on after a moment of silence.

Nodding slowly, Rose tilted her head in thanks for the information. “What are the other schools like?”

Neither answered straight away as they considered the question. “Beauxbatons is... very proper. They teach a lot of social rules and proprieties.” Adrian said at last. “They’re located in France, so it’s mostly the French who attend there. They have a bit of a reputation of being soft; mind you that’s probably just for the fact that they’re French.” He added the last bit absently, making Graham snort and Rose stifle a smile.

“No one knows where Durmstrang is located— somewhere North they say. It’s hidden under protections and the students get there by Portkey.” Graham told her next. “It’s a pretty good school most say. They don’t shy away from teaching the Dark Arts; unlike Hogwarts.”

Adrian’s gaze flickered to Graham for a moment. “They’re a lot more restrictive with their students though.” When Rose eyed him in question, he resisted the urge to fidget in his seat. “They don’t let Muggleborns in. There’s a handful of Halfbloods but they have to have two wizarding parents.”

Ah. Rose thought to herself.

“Beauxbatons is known to let veela, and some fae’s, attend their school though,” Graham threw in. “Durmstrang let’s in werewolves.”

All in all, both schools sounded rather formable. Apparently they were accepting of people who, by British Ministry standards, would be considered inhuman. Creature more than anything else. Although Durmstrang appeared to hold the same prejudice that some Dark British Purebloods had against Muggleborns, they didn’t discriminate against magic— which was a point in their favour.

Hogwarts, from the sound of it, had only one werewolf attend their school and it had been a deeply kept secret. Rose wondered if that was the Lupin family’s preference or Dumbledore’s.

She was interested in seeing the differences between the three schools. Though she wouldn’t go and talk to any of them, she would like to observe each of them interacting. As she thought that, another thought ran across her mind—

“Where would they stay?”

“Both schools will likely stay in dorms that they bring along with them,” Adrian answered easily. “They’re not bringing the whole school with them, just a select few.” He frowned for a moment in thought, then slowly said. “Beauxbatons would probably eat their meals with Ravenclaw— since they’re considered to be the brightest of the Hogwarts Houses. Durmstrang will definitely eat with Slytherin.”

Rose lifted a brow at the ‘definitely’.

“Igor Karkaroff— Durmstrang’s Headmaster— was a known inner circle Death Eater,” Graham offered.

Adrian scoffed. “A poor one at that. The coward spilled every secret he knew for a chance to save his own skin.”

Well, that was interesting.

Rose considered all this information for a few minutes, not offering anymore questions. She stared vacantly at the hillsides that they pushed on through while Adrian and Graham waited in silence. Eventually she turned back to them and tilted her chin upwards.

Is that all?

Adrian and Graham glanced at one another. They had talked to Marcus about the upcoming year, about what they knew would come, and the older boy had assured them that Rose would be able to handle anything that may happen, but both still felt the need to warn her.

“With Marcus gone this year...” Adrian said slowly. “Odds are that some of the older Slytherin’s will test you. Will try and see how far they can push and how you will react.”

Rose offered nothing but a smile at this; one that had both boys nodding in acquiesce.

Chapter Text

Alastor Moody was quite the character.

After the man’s rather dramatic entrance in the middle of Dumbledore’s welcoming speech and his following classes with each year and House, he had made an impactful impression on Hogwarts. That’s even without his rather haggard looking appearance.

The man had been an Auror in the war with Voldemort— took down a great deal of Death Eaters too— and had the battle wounds to prove it. His face looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. His mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man’s eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye— and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man’s head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

He wore a big dark coat and walked with a long staff that acted as a cane. It was easy to tell when he was approaching as he had one lower half of his leg missing and the wooden thump of his artificial foot always echoed in the halls around him.

He was a serious man and had high expectations of his students and while he was pretty gruff, he was not the same kind of unpleasant that Snape was known to be.

He had certain Slytherin’s feeling tense, groups of them whispering in hushed tones to one another in the Slytherin common room. Most of them children of previous Death Eaters.

Little Malfoy wasn’t one of the ones who was tense at first and had a bit of a run in with the man that ended embarrassingly for him. Moody hadn’t been cowed by his muttered comments about his father and even relayed a message for the man.

Harry and Ron had yet to shut up about the incident.

Their first class with the man had been... unforgettable. They were taught about the Unforgivable Curses; the Imperious Curse, the Cruciatus Curse and the Killing Curse.

The last of which had the man eyeing both Harry and Rose intently as he told them that only two people were known to have survived the curse. What had caused a bit more of a stir through Hogwarts was the fact that the man was going to test everyone with the Imperious Curse. Apparently he got permission from Dumbledore.

If that didn’t show the extent Albus Dumbledore was able to go without any sort of backlash then Rose didn’t know what would.

That particular lesson started off about how one would expect; it was filled with a bunch of fourteen-to-fifteen-year old's going against one of the darkest curses known to magic. People were spinning, people were doing flips, some were singing songs— a whole host of things really.

When it got to Harry, he hesitated in doing whatever it was he was ordered to do and then proceeded to do it and not do it, which resulted in him banging his head on a table. Rose had a somewhat familiar experience, only she had gotten a grimace on her face and stumbled backward from Moody, her hands clenched into fists.

Moody had praised them both with an eerie sort of intensity and proceeded to place it on them a few more times until both twins could shake it off with more ease.

On non-class related news, Hermione had a new crusade.

After an incident at the Quidditch World Cup where the girl got a front row view of how some Purebloods treated their house-elves, she apparently decided to take it upon herself to free all house-elves.

S.P.E.W. 

The Society to Promote Elfish Welfare.

Wasn’t that just a charming acronym?

Ron had stubbornly tried to tell the girl that house-elves liked their work, liked the lives they had, but it fell on deaf ears. Hermione had found them one day and started to give instructions on how exactly they would further their cause.

Ron and Harry caved, unsurprisingly, but when Hermione went to give Rose something to do the girl just shook her head.

“Ro’,” Hermione said stubbornly. “The way house-elves are treated is despicable! We need to help them!”

Rose eyed the other girl for a moment. “I’m not going to join an organization without researching the subject at hand myself,” she told Hermione calmly. The determined girl had pursed her lips for a few moments, before nodding her head with a slightly unhappy expression but unable to find a counter argument to that.

Harry and Rose had finally heard back from Sirius. The man was feeling troubled about numerous rumours he had been hearing as of late— their scars burning just one among them— and would be heading back North as soon as possible. He also told them that if it hurt again to go see Dumbledore.

Rose had rolled her eyes at that bit of advice.

Harry was now worried, crafting a letter before Rose could stop him, telling him that they may have just imagined their scars hurting and not to worry or come back. Hermione tried to reprimand the boy but he stubbornly refused to listen to her and Ron, apparently having enough, told her to drop it.

That didn’t stop Hermione from telling Rose about it though.

Harry got a hard flick on the centre of his forehead for his actions.

Today marked the arrival of the other schools; Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. The Hogwarts students were being ushered by their Heads of Houses into rows as they got ready to meet the students coming.

Harry grabbed Rose’s hand before she could go line up.

“Sirius wrote back...” He offered reluctantly. “He didn’t believe me about imagining the pain in our scars.”

Rose plastered an exaggerated look of shock on her face, her expression practically screaming; really? When Harry only frowned at her, Rose squeezed his hand in reassurance, sending him a soft look.

“Potter! Get in line!”

Rose resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her Head of House, sending Harry one more reassuring glance and heading off to her line.

Unlike the Gryffindors who were being sorted by their years, or Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who were bunching by their friend groups, Slytherin lined up by their hierarchy. A somewhat difficult thing to manage at the moment as Rose didn’t want little Malfoy and his crew knowing about her status.

They were under the impression that Adrian was the Head of the Hierarchy, which suited Rose just fine. She knew though, that there were a few of those in her year who were starting to clue in.

Blaise Zabini, a rather solemn-looking boy with a dark pleasing complexion, had already begun to distance himself from Malfoy this year— from what Rose had noticed so far at least. To be fair he wasn’t particularly close with him, they were about as close as most Pureblood heirs allowed themselves to be, but they weren’t as close as say Adrian and Graham or Marcus and Terrence.

Daphne Greengrass was a girl Rose could admire. Her hair was long, blonde, and pristine and her overall appearance was considered extremely beautiful. It was not those qualities that Rose admired though but rather her personality. Greengrass was known as a bit of an ice queen in Slytherin, and she pulled it off in a way that didn’t result in her looking like a recluse as Rose had when she first started at Hogwarts.

Her younger sister was betrothed to Malfoy— hardly the girl's fault— but Greengrass herself did not have an arranged marriage. The Greengrass’ were well known for the fact that they did not have a male heir, their two girls being the only children the Lord and Lady of the family had. As the eldest child it seemed Greengrass felt the need to prove herself, getting impressive marks in school and not letting herself be distracted by any forms of relationships.

She was what most would consider to be an outer member, powerful in her own right, but with very little interest in the hierarchy itself. The girl continued to treat Rose the same way she always had, with polite indifference; perhaps the reason she didn’t have the same disdain the other Slytherins had for Rose at first was because of her family’s well known Neutral status.

Regardless, Rose wouldn’t be surprised if the girl knew who was in charge these days; Greengrass would one day be going head-to-head with bigoted Lords who wouldn’t take her seriously due to her being a woman, there was no doubt in Rose’s mind that the blonde would have long since learnt to recognize shifting powers around her.

Then there was Theodore Nott, a quiet and serious looking boy with dark hair and what could only be described as a pretty face. He was about as distant as Rose was from all the kids in their year. Their entire House actually. He was raised by his grandfather after his father was arrested for being a Death Eater and as such there were a fair few Purebloods who kept a distance from the boy, not wanting their reputation to be tarnished. It was his distance that allowed him to go unnoticed for the most part, allowing him to be an observer more so than anything else, allowing him to see clues that others missed.

It was these kinds of people that had the best odds of seeing changes, those around them being so used to ignoring their presence that they slowly stopped guarding themselves when they were near. It was how Rose and Harry lived for so long before they came to the magical world and were shoved into a spotlight.

No one else seemed to clue in though. Crabbe and Goyle seemed duty bound to back Malfoy no matter what he did, and Parkinson would do anything to stay in the spoiled boy’s favour, bringing along with her Davis and Bulstrode. Those younger than them were scared of Malfoy’s family name and more or less followed his lead— that would start to change by the end of this year though.

Another one clueless to the change of hierarchy; their Head of House.

Rose was both surprised and unsurprised with the fact that the Slytherin Head of House wasn’t kept in the loop with the hierarchy. Surprised mostly for the fact that they quite literally took care of the House, one would figure they’d need to know. She was unsurprised though because any Slytherin worth their salt would be able to notice the subtle nuances in the children of their House and should be able to pick up who’s running things from there.

An unfortunate circumstance for Severus Snape, who was more content to ignore her existence altogether.

She was rather happy with this way of things though. No doubt if Snape knew her standing, he’d warn his little godson about it and then she’d have to deal with an indignant and whiny Malfoy. Not nearly as fun as watching an oblivious Malfoy strut around like he had it made.

As they marched on down towards the lawn, Snape didn’t spare a glance back, clearly confident in his House’s ability to order themselves. Rose walked alongside Adrian and Graham, eyeing the rest of Hogwarts as she went.

Rose never had much contact with the rest of the school, not exactly a surprise there. Her Sorting tended to keep people at a distance and though her fame drew the occasional person in, her lack of communicating was quick to shoot any types of friendships in the face.

It was not as though she was disappointed by this.

While Ravenclaws seemed like a conscientious bunch Rose knew she wouldn’t want to be subjected to the numerous questions she knew they’d ask. Ones about her scar are the most obvious, while others would no doubt be about whatever mess she and Harry had gotten themselves into over the years.

Hufflepuffs— Hufflepuff as a House did not seem at all bad but Rose’s experiences with Hufflepuffs in general left little to be desired. She had not forgotten how quickly that lot wanted to blame Harry for things in second year and, through no other reason than her brother and House, her as well.

Rose did not mind Gryffindors; how could she when her brother and two of her best friends were ones. They tended to be a bit much at times— far too enthusiastic and draining on her social battery the vast majority of the time— but they were a good bunch. Ignoring their tendencies to hate Slytherin for next to no reason and their habit of systematically alienating her brother the second he did anything they didn’t like...

Well—

Rose didn’t mind not interacting with the other Houses at Hogwarts. She didn’t even mind not interacting with her own House. The list of people she actually liked being around was a short one. There was an order actually:

The people she could not stand; the people she was indifferent to; the people she did not mind; the people she liked being around; the people she would defend if the need arose; and the people she would die for.

Harry was the only one in the last group.

“What time is it?”

Rose turned to look at Graham as he spoke.

“Nearly six.” Adrian answered, eyeing multiple areas around the Hogwarts grounds. “They should be here soon.”

Rose made a faint inquiring sound and Adrian smirked over at her. “Hey, I could figure out quite a bit about our new arrivals, how they’re getting here was not one of them.

Rose gave a huff of laughter while Graham snorted.

The whispered sounds of numerous voices making guesses on how Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would arrive could be heard across the mass of students. Just in front of them all were the professors and Headmaster Dumbledore.

“Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!” Dumbledore called out, his eyes on the sky.

Following his line of sight, almost everyone could see a small shape that was slowly growing in size coming closer. Soon there were students shouting their guesses as to what it was; one saying a dragon, another saying a flying house.

The second guess was closer.

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed— then, with an almighty crash, the horses’ hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes. There was just enough time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerged from the inside of the carriage— a shoe the size of a child’s sled— followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman any of them had ever seen in their lives. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

“Madam Maxime,” Rose heard one of the Slytherins behind her mutter.

Graham leaned in closer to Rose to murmur in her ear. “Rumour has it one of her parents is a giant. She refutes all claims but her size does speak for itself.”

Rose hummed quietly. She’s only ever seen one person that was about this woman’s size and that was Hagrid. She had long since suspected he had some giant blood in him but knew enough not to ask. They watched as Madam Maxime approached the professors, Dumbledore in particular, and greeted them graciously.

“My pupils,” Madame Maxime introduced, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Rose glanced over at about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens. They were standing behind Madame Maxime and looked to be shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads.

“Here’s hoping the French taught warming charms,” Adrian muttered under his breath, an amused gleam in his eyes.

There were quite a few older students eyeing the new arrivals appreciatively. Girls were giggling to one another and eyeing the French boys while Rose could hear the occasional male voice make a comment about the girls.

Adrian only looked mildly interested— the boy always was more concerned with his schoolwork than any other... extra curriculars. Though he didn’t look as though he’d protest if an opportunity presented itself to him. Graham on the other hand did not look to be at all impressed, with the girls at least. Rose had long since suspected that the boy's interests leaned more towards his own gender but never really cared enough about it to confirm that theory.

Although now that it was practically confirmed she was wondering how same sex couples were perceived in the magical world. She’d have to ask Marcus about it.

Rose focused back on the subject at hand when she felt a hand grasp her elbow. Her gaze flickered to Adrian who was pulling her aside and then to the Beauxbatons students who were now heading up to the castle.

She imagined they’d be more than pleased to get out of the cold.

“Just Durmstrang now,” Graham said quietly as they all moved back into their original spots.

They stood in silence, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime’s huge horses snorting and stamping. But then—

“You hear that?” They heard a Ravenclaw say suddenly.

A loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed...

“The lake!” Lee Jordan shouted, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water— except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the centre; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks— and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake’s floor... What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool... and then they saw the rigging...

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship’s portholes. All of them seemed to be built, their shoulders wide and frames hulking, but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, Rose saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

“Karkaroff,” Adrian spat under his breath.

Ah, so this was the Death Eater turncoat. Rose could practically feel the tension that radiated off a fair few Slytherins. She distantly wondered how Theodore Nott was handling this; his father was one of the ones Karkaroff gave up after all.

As the man walked up the slope, he called out heartedly to Dumbledore.

He wasn’t a terribly impressive looking man. Tall and thin like Dumbledore, his white hair was short and his goatee, that finished in an obnoxious looking curl, did little to hide his weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own. “Dear old Hogwarts,” he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, his smile false, and his eyes cold and shrewd.

“How good it is to be here, how good... Viktor, come along, into the warmth... you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold...”

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Rose caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows.

Well. That ought to make Ron happy, Rose thought to herself, thinking back to the boy’s actions at the Quidditch World Cup.

It didn’t take long for Dumbledore to start ushering everyone back inside the castle. There were more than a few students whispering excitedly to one another as they glanced over at Viktor Krum.

“Think he’ll try for Durmstrang champion?” Graham asked conversationally.

Adrian made a quiet noise. “I don’t see why not. That slimy leech Karkaroff seems to love him.”

Rose scoffed. She’d bet all the Galleons in her bank that what Karkaroff loved was Krum’s fame, not the boy himself. The man seemed to be made of very little substance from what she’s seen so far.

As Adrian predicted on the Hogwarts Express, Beauxbatons was seated with Ravenclaw, most of them shivering in place while a few girls had their shawls wrapped around their heads. Clearly none of them have heard of a warming charm before.

“Score one for England, I guess,” Graham muttered, garnering an actual laugh from Rose, quiet as it was.

Durmstrang sat with Slytherin, setting themselves up near the middle of the table with the fourth years. Rose quickly moved to a preferable seat before they were all taken and got prepared to ignore the new additions as easily as she ignored her own housemates.

Adrian and Graham had sat down near their own years, both giving Rose a nod as she continued on. She could see little Malfoy leaning over to converse with Krum, though from the looks of it the boy didn’t offer much back.

As the Durmstrang students made themselves familiar with their surroundings, some gazing up at the ceiling with awe, Filch added more chairs around the head table. Rose was momentarily confused when he added four chairs while Dumbledore rose to make a speech while the chairs remained vacant.

Her confusion ebbed when she saw Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch enter through the staff entranceway; the same one she and the other Slytherins went through back in first year.

Considering they helped set this tournament up, she supposed it wasn’t such a surprise that they’d be here for the start of it all.

Their feast carried on without a hitch, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang students alike helping themselves to the assortment of foods offered. When everyone was done and all the golden plates were cleared off, Dumbledore stood, and a heavy feeling of anticipation fell upon the Great Hall.

“The moment has come,” Dumbledore announced, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation”— there was a smattering of polite applause— “and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likeable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Unlike at the Quidditch World Cup where he wore a neat suit, today he had on wizarding robes. His toothbrush moustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore’s long white hair and beard.

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

At the mention of the word ‘champions’, the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” Dumbledore carried on as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways... their magical prowess— their daring— their powers of deduction— and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

At this last word, the hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.” Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” Dumbledore instructed “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation,” Dumbledore said, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

With that Dumbledore sent everyone off back to their quarters, waving a hand towards the door loftily.

Rose waited a moment before moving, letting the immediate crowd thin out. When she stood, she found herself slightly stuck behind the Durmstrang students and quickly slid around them, spotting her brother’s wild hair.

Karkaroff was not far from the door, leading his students out of the Great Hall.

“Back to the ship, then,” he was saying. “Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?”

Rose didn't hear a response, not that she expected one with the absolute silence the boy emitted over dinner, and she resisted the urge to scoff at Karkaroff’s attempts at gaining favour with Krum.

“Professor, I vood like some vine,” one of the other Durmstrang boys tried hopefully.

“I wasn’t offering it to you, Poliakoff,” Karkaroff snapped, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. “I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy—”

Karkaroff turned away, continuing his trek and reaching the doors at the exact same moment as Harry and the others.

Her brother, ever the polite boy, stopped to let him walk through. Rose smothered a fond smile as she neatly dodged the last Durmstrang boy blocking her path and stepped up to Harry’s side, poking his ribs in greeting.

“Thank you,” Karkaroff threw off carelessly, glancing at Harry.

And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Harry and stared at him as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff’s eyes moved slowly up Harry’s face and fixed upon his scar then his eyes flickered to Rose, his eyes now trailing to her neck. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at the twins too. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. The boy with food all down his front nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at their scars.

“Yeah, that’s the Potter twins,” a growling voice suddenly said from behind them.

Karkaroff spun around. Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster.

The colour drained from Karkaroff’s face as Rose watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him.

“You!” he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

“Me,” Moody replied grimly. “And unless you’ve got anything to say to either Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You’re blocking the doorway.”

It was true; half the students in the hall were now waiting behind them, looking over one another’s shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.

Without another word, Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.

One couldn’t even begin to count the ways Rose Potter was pissed off.

Her brother had just had his name pulled from the Goblet of Fire. Someone clearly put it in there as some ploy against his life. The adults in charge of, and overseeing, the tournament were so inept that they couldn’t get him out of it. Ron Weasley was being a moron. The Daily Prophet was practically a gossip rag with the over dramatized garbage they sold.

Rose was fully prepared to help her brother in whatever way she could, damn the so-called ‘rules’.

Her brother was in a mood that was a mix between depressed and angry— though the anger was the one that was holding strong. The fact that next to no one believed him about not entering himself in the tournament was bad enough, but that Ron didn’t believe him either—

Hermione tried to explain that Ron was jealous but honestly, Rose didn’t even want to hear the excuses. So Ron was jealous that Harry was more famous? Harry got that fame in exchange for his parents being murdered and now lived with relatives that abused him. She doubted Ron would be willing to accept those terms if it meant that people would be up his arse all the time.

To make matters worse the library was borderline unbearable to be in. Viktor Krum often came to sit in there and not far behind him was always a gaggle of girls who would do nothing but sit one table over and giggle obnoxiously. She never thought she’d say this but thank Merlin for Madam Pince. At least the woman was keeping the fan club semi-quiet and away.

Rose was currently sitting at her customary table with Adrian and Graham. She was making it her mission to read up on every possible topic that Harry would possibly have to face; Marcus had sent her a list of tasks from the previous tournaments.

A loud set of giggles suddenly went off somewhere in the library and Rose rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, can’t the guy study anywhere else,” Graham muttered under his breath.

Rose glanced over at the boy and made a quiet hum in agreement. The three of them looked over as a group of girls shuffled into view, twirling their hair obnoxiously as they kept their eyes trained on Krum’s table.

Amongst them was Parkinson, a shiny Potter Stinks! badge pinned to her robes.

The sight of it had Rose frowning, the only thing that really soothed her was that it was only Malfoy and his little pawns wearing them out of the Slytherin House.

“We can do something about that if you want,” Adrian offered in a low voice.

Rose shook her head slowly.

“You sure?” Adrian reaffirmed, sneering over at Parkinson. “Her— Malfoy and the rest— we can tell them to stop. Tell little Malfoy that his personal vendetta is not important enough for him to be dragging Slytherins name through the dumps.”

Rose considered it for a moment. She knew her brother hated the pins but really it was only the Hufflepuffs and a handful of Slytherins and Ravenclaws wearing them. Her brother probably thought it was a lot more than that, but he was likely spotting those wearing the pins more often than the ones who weren’t.

“No,” she said at last, going back to her reading. “I want to see how far they go. And the look on their faces when they realize.”

That had Adrian and Graham smirking. The two had long since gotten sick of the Malfoy heir strutting around like he owned the place, an attitude not helped by their Head of House consistently enabling him.

While Graham had been on semi-civil terms with the boy when Malfoy had started school it had been more for securing himself a spot in his later years than any actual desire to be his friend. As soon as he realized that it would not be Malfoy taking the Head of the Hierarchy, Graham dropped him like a week-old Chocolate Frog.

Rose Potter’s sixth year should be an interesting one; one that even those who graduated were waiting for. Some of them had made students who they knew would still be here promise to send them a memory of the day.

“You going to Hogsmeade this weekend?” Adrian asked Rose.

“Yes,” Rose said quietly. “I have something I need to do.”

Hogsmeade was currently packed with kids— foreign ones included— this weekend. Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang students were crowding in the street and stores eager for a fun day away from Hogwarts castle. Not everyone was having a great time though.

Harry Potter was beyond tired of having increasingly worse school years. This year’s drama? He was the unwilling fourth champion in the Triwizard Tournament. Not only did no one believe him when he said he didn’t enter it himself, but there were people mad at him for being in the tournament. A lot of people, especially the Hufflepuffs, thought he was taking away Cedric Diggory’s chance in the spotlight.

Harry wanted to scoff just thinking about it.

He was currently holed up underneath his Invisibility Cloak as he walked alongside Rose and Hermione. When Hermione pointed out that no one was going to bother him here he was quick to point out one of the very people who was currently making his life difficult.

Rose and Hermione watched as Skeeter and her photographer made their way through the crowds.

Sighing in defeat Hermione suggested getting a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks pub.

While Harry reluctantly agreed, Rose murmured that she had something to do, sliding away before her brother or Hermione could question her.

The fourth-year Slytherin was in an abysmal mood as well. Having her brother forcibly entered in a potentially life-ending tournament was not okay. Not at all. She could feel a constant burning anger and indignation at the incompetence of the adults they were surrounded by. While she could not get Harry out of this tournament, she could at the very least get people off his back about being in it. And she knew just how to do it.

Calmly trailing down an alley she kept her eye on the key object of her plan. Taking out her wand she was quick to cast three spells; the first one on the entrance way to the alley and the latter two on the person who entered the alley just before her.

Merlin, she was grateful for the snake charmed décor throughout Hogwarts; they always heard the best secrets.

Reaching down she picked up a small item, clutching it in her hand as she made her way through the crowds again to a more secluded location. Once she cast the right charms to make sure no one would overhear her or interrupt her, she awoke the stunned Animagus.

“Oh, Skeeter, you really do bug me.”

When a pair of wide eyes landed on Rose her mouth pulled into a sly smirk.

“Let’s talk, shall we?”

Tuesday morning had the whole school buzzing with excitement: today would be the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry Potter had yet to enter the Great Hall for lunch, but Rose Potter was present, which was slightly surprising. Most figured she wouldn’t leave her brother’s side considering he was going to be competing in a very likely deadly task soon.

Rose ignored any stares she felt on her as she ate her breakfast. Today would see the end of her plan to get the vast majority of these sheeplike people off her brother’s back. Eating her meal, she waited for today’s Daily Prophet to arrive.

As if on cue— the sounds of wings could be heard approaching. Rose’s eyes didn’t stray from her meal as multiple owls swooped through the Great Hall dropping off papers for anyone subscribed to the Daily Prophet. The sound of newspapers being pulled open to be read could easily be heard and in an instant a silence seemed to descend upon the Hall.

Silent Potter Breaks Her Silence!

My dear readers, as you very well know I have been covering the coveted Triwizard Tournament (see page 9 for more) that is currently being hosted by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have sworn to bring you the most sordid details of the deadly tasks that will happen as well as all the need-to-know information about all four of its champions.

Just last week I interviewed the champions as they had their wands weighed in preparation for the first task that is set to take place on Tuesday. Now my next article was going to be about this very task but as luck would have it when I was visiting amongst the streets of Hogsmeade I ran into Rose Potter—twin of Harry Potter. (see page 3 for more about the Potters)

It has become widely known about Rose Potter’s self-chosen silence. It is said that she hasn’t spoken to anyone except for her brother, and a few select others. Knowing this I still approached her— I would not be doing my readers justice if I did not at least try to speak with her— but to my astonishment she agreed to an interview!

Skeeter: Miss Potter, let me start off by saying it’s an honour to meet you.

Potter: The honours mine. 

Skeeter: First I would like to ask how do you feel about your brother joining this tournament? Are you worried?

Potter: I’m very worried. The fact that someone would enter my fourteen-year-old brother in something like this is very frightening.

Skeeter: So, you don’t think your brother found a way to enter himself in the Triwizard Tournament?

Potter: I know he didn’t.

Skeeter: (I admit ladies and gentlemen the confidence in which she said this statement was admirable.) How do you know?

Potter: … It has always been me and my brother against the world. We always said that we’d be there for each other no matter what. We promised that a long time ago. My brother would not willingly enter a tournament that could kill him, that could take him away from me forever. He wouldn’t break his promise.

Skeeter: … You must admit the rewards to winning this could be appealing to anyone.

Potter: (She shakes her head here.) The rewards for winning this are hardly appealing to the likes of me and my brother. Fame? We already have that, even though we don’t want it. Money? The Potter family is known for being well off. Glory? I’ll bet you the average person couldn’t even tell me the name of even one previous winners of the Triwizard Tournament. 

*She had me stumped here my dear readers. Could it be true? Was Harry Potter forced to enter this tournament as a ploy against his life? If so, why weren’t the Aurors called in? This is a mystery that I promise to get to the bottom of.*

Skeeter: How has everyone reacted to your brother taking part in the tournament? Surely those at Hogwarts must be happy, they have twice the chance at their school winning.

Potter: … The vast majority reacted the way I expected them to. They have either outright turned against Harry or are ignoring his obvious fear about being in the tournament and are choosing to congratulate him like there isn’t a chance he could die during a task.

Skeeter: Wait, you’re saying you expected this reaction?

Potter: (She smiles sadly here.) Let’s just say it’s a bit of a Hogwarts tradition for either me or my brother— or both of us— to be shunned at one point or another during the school year. We’re used to it I suppose.

Skeeter: (I was shocked and saddened here, ladies and gentlemen) How could you possibly be used to it?

Potter: (She did not answer me for a long time, for a moment I thought she wouldn’t answer at all, but—) My brother and I have always had each other. Throughout our lives it was always me and him. We grew up with the worst kind of Muggles. Muggles who hated anything that was different, who hated magic and anything having to do with it. Growing up we did not know about the magical world. Sure, we knew we had magic but no one else could do it as far as we knew. 

Our relatives were cruel and judgemental. They hated us and never missed a chance to tell us this. We were forced to cook for them, clean for them and if we didn’t do things right or if anything ‘strange’ happened around us, we were punished. Whether it was by denying us food for days, locking us up or even beating us. 

When our Hogwarts letters arrived, we were… relieved. We thought we finally found a place where we’d belong, a place where we’d be accepted as we are.

It was… disheartening to learn that the magical world was just as cruel and judgemental as the Muggles we grew up with. At least our relatives were consistent. We knew they hated us and that that would never change. The magical world seems to bounce back-and-forth between loving us and then cursing the ground we walk on.

Despite all this, one thing remains as it always has: I have Harry, and Harry has me.

*My dear readers… I had no words in response to what she told me. I felt sorrow and anger at what our saviours have had to endure. Why was this not brought forward before now? Surely someone had been watching them all these years? Why did no one help them? They saved us all, so how did we fail them so terribly? I had to stop the interview here as I did not have it in me to really continue. I did have one last question and the answer I received truly broke my heart to hear *

Skeeter: Why do you choose not to speak, Miss Potter?

Potter: (The smile she gave me spoke of years of pain) I learnt a long time ago, Ms. Skeeter, that the less you say, the less chance there is that someone will get angry with you and feel the need to punish you.

My dear readers, never in my life have I felt like such a failure. The years after the war against You-Know-Who (See page 5 for more on You-Know-Who) officially ended we all celebrated. We all rejoiced that his reign of tyranny was finally put to an end. But did we take a second to think about our saviours? Did any of us make an effort to make sure that the Potter twins were healthy and happy? How did we show our appreciation for everything they lost for our freedom? We happily lived on and when they finally returned to our world, we made them feel excluded. As though they did not belong with us.

We all need to take a look at our actions, ladies and gentlemen. What we are doing now is disappointing.

Loyal yours, Rita Skeeter, Reporter for the Daily Prophet.

Rose resisted the urge to smirk as the silence of the hall was slowly broken by hushed whispers. Skeeter certainly had a flair for the dramatics and was rather over the top at times but Rose figured she’d let the woman have her fun— Rose was just pleased the main point got across. Reaching forward she grabbed some sandwiches, wrapped them in a napkin, and grabbed a goblet of pumpkin juice. She knew her brother would not be able to eat with everyone watching him.

Standing up, well aware that all eyes were on her, Rose made her way to the entrance of the Great Hall. She was just reaching it when Harry came in, his nerves clear for her to see.

Harry smiled at his sister when he saw her approaching, trying desperately to ignore the nerves twisting his stomach to pieces. She held up a napkin filled with food and a goblet towards him and gestured outside with raised brows. Harry grinned, understanding what she was asking, and instantly nodded, glad to get out of the Great Hall and away from the prying eyes which felt worse than ever in that moment.

Remaining blissfully unaware of the bombshell interview his sister had given, Harry walked outside with Rose, grabbing the food from her hand when they found an isolated area to sit in.

“Nervous?”

Harry shot Rose an unamused look, knowing she knew that he was nervous.

Harry forcibly shoved a sandwich into his mouth, feeling oddly mechanical chewing the food, and mumbled. “Maybe after people watch me almost die fighting a dragon, they’ll believe that I didn’t enter this stupid tournament.”

Rose was well aware that, for the most part, Harry was thinking about Ron. He put up a big wall of being angry at the boy but she knew that he was hurt. Hurt that his best friend hadn’t believed him.

“He’ll come around.”

Harry frowned. “I didn’t say anything about Ron.”

Rose smirked. “Neither did I.”

Harry’s face morphed into a scowl at that. You’d think after years of Rose doing that he’d learn not to fall for it.

“It’s not just Ron though.” He finally sighed, forcing down another sandwich and grabbing hold of the goblet of pumpkin juice when his sister passed it to him. “The whole school decided that I must have entered the tournament. The Slytherins made those stupid Potter Stinks badges and everyone’s wearing them!”

Rose reached forward and began to run her hand through Harry’s hair comfortingly, much like a mother soothing an upset child. She knew not everyone was wearing the Potter Stinks badges, Gryffindors the more obvious and quite a few Slytherins too— the ones who knew her standing in Slytherin at least. (All the older years and the possible three in their year.) Her brother always was the more sensitive of the two of them though. The more emotional one.

“I told you, Harry. They’ll never really accept us. At least the Dursley’s never made us believe otherwise. This school and this world… they’ll always find a fault in us. They’ll find something about us to hate and ridicule.” She tugged slightly on Harry’s hair in order to get him to meet her eye. “Just remember, you’ll always have me.”

Harry gave her a smile that was just a bit wobbly, and her heart ached for him.

The two of them were different in so many ways. Harry, her big-hearted brother, still craved the affection and attention that they were denied as children. Rose, on the other hand, suffocated that urge a long time ago. At about the same time she made the decision to stop talking. She decided that the rest of the world didn’t matter, she didn’t care if the entire world burned around them… as long as she had Harry, she’d be happy.

She’d get her revenge on the Dursleys’, make no doubt about that. She’d match every bruise that they left on Harry and her, and she’d do so gleefully. Harry had it in his head that since they were the last blood relatives they had that they should have some sense of family loyalty to them— No.

Yes, he still wanted to get away from them and never see them again but that’s all he wanted to do. Rose on the other hand craved vengeance on them. She wanted to see them absolutely destroyed, to see their perfect family home up in flames and their lives ruined.

“Mr. Potter…”

The twins turned their heads at the sudden sound of someone speaking.

Professor McGonagall approached the two of them, looking pale and worried. She opened her mouth to say something but seemed to change her mind at the last second.

“… The champions have to gather on the grounds now… it is time for the first task.”

Harry shared a look with his sister and stood, dusting himself off while Rose did the same. His nerves had returned with a raging fury, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Feeling a hand take his own, he looked to his left and gave a slow nod, squeezing Rose’s hand tightly in gratefulness.

Chapter Text

Amelia Bones’ week had gone from fairly normal— a rather overwhelming workload that was never a match for her— to an outright nightmare with just one Daily Prophet article.

Like most people in Britain, Amelia was subscribed to the Daily Prophet, and she had been following along with its recent articles on the Triwizard Tournament which Harry Potter was said to be in. (Which apparently had been done by an outsider without his consent? Why Dumbledore had not called them in to investigate was beyond her.) So she was mildly surprised when an article from a week ago came out the same day as the first task and it was not about the Triwizard Tournament but instead about Rose Potter.

Amelia had heard whispers here and there about the Potter twins; her niece Susan had talked about them from time to time as well. Harry Potter appeared to be very much like his father and was always mixed up in trouble, dragging his sister along with him apparently. Rose Potter on the other hand was a very quiet and reserved girl, not bothering to communicate with anyone for the most part

When the Potter twins were removed from the magical world thirteen years ago there were some protests, despite popular belief. Especially since their planned homage had been with Muggles and would essentially be leaving them defenceless. 

Albus Dumbledore, the man who took over as their Magical Guardian when all the only options were unavailable, had assured them about their safety. He had explained about powerful blood wards that would erect around the Dursley family home because of the blood that the twins shared with their aunt. Lily Potter’s blood. 

He had then assured them that he would keep an eye on the twins and even had a Squib placed in the house next door. Going as far as to say that the two would be safe and happy.

Lies. All lies.

The tell-all interview the Rose Potter gave was shocking and not just for the fact that she even spoke with Skeeter. The bleak and straight forward detailing of the Potter twins home life had nearly every wizard and witch in an uproar. The Ministry had received numerous Howlers and letters and Amelia had no doubt that Albus Dumbledore would be receiving his fair share as well. It was no surprise with the twins being as famous as they were and the rather disappointing experiences they appeared to have with their own kind.

Amelia wondered how many complaints were sent due to guilt over their own action, or inactions, being called out so blatantly.

While it was true that Skeeter was known to embellish her articles, there were some minor pieces of evidence that seemed to back up the story. The first being the unpleasant visit some Aurors had with the Dursley family the previous summer when Harry Potter magically inflated Vernon Dursley’s sister. The man had a few choice words for those who had went to set things right and they had all come back grumbling under their breath about the oversized Muggle. 

Another being how thin more than one person had noticed both twins to be; while James Potter had been on the scrawny side in his youth, it had never been quite as bad as either twin. 

There was also the fact that it seemed neither twin got any mail from their relatives, Susan had been the one to tell her that.

At the very least, neglect was there. That coupled with the article warranted an investigation— or a conversation with both twins at least.

Which brought Amelia here, to Dumbledore’s office at Hogwarts.

Wiping off any stray soot and straightening her monocle, she scanned the cluttered looking office, taking in the various knick-knacks that Dumbledore had on his shelves. Her eyes lingered on the curious portraits of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts then turned to the two people standing in the room.

Dumbledore was wearing his typical overzealous robes, the current set a deep blue with stars that twinkled across them. He had a patient expression on his face and his hands remained clasped in front of himself. Minerva McGonagall in contrast had a very pinched look and her hands were twisting tightly together.

Not surprising, Amelia knew Minerva cared very much for her students and that James and Lily Potter had been favourites of hers. She had no doubt that the woman was not taking this news very well.

“Ah, Amelia!” Dumbledore greeted jovially.

Minerva frowned at the man slightly, clearly not endeared at his happy tone, nor was Amelia.

“Headmaster Dumbledore.” She greeted formally.

“What brings you here, my dear?”

Amelia eyed the man incredulously, something that was mirrored by the other woman in the room. “I’m here to talk to Harry and Rose Potter,” Amelia said firmly, not bothering with any pleasantries.

Dumbledore dropped his genial expression for a moment, a look of concern crossing his face. “Are you sure that is wise? The two are so busy with their school year, Harry even more so.”

“I’m aware,” Amelia said. “Competing in a tournament that he was entered in against his will . I wonder why there was no investigation initiated?”

Both women eyed the bespectacled man who remained as imperturbable as ever. “I assure you,” Dumbledore told her calmly, “Alastor is looking into things.” Neither woman looked at all comforted by this, with good reason. While Alastor Moody was a formidable force back in the day, he wasn’t known to have all his brooms in the shed these days. His paranoia had only increased over the years so much so that now the man would only drink out of his personal flask.

“Alastor Moody is not an Auror,” Amelia rebuked stiffly. “He is a retiree and thus not in any position to be conducting his own investigation.” Not bothering to let Dumbledore offer any excuses she powered on. “Nevertheless, I want to speak with both of the Potter twins, so if you would be so kind as to bring them here.”

“I will go get them both,” Minerva said at once.

“Are we sure this is necessary?” Dumbledore said before she could leave. “It’s no secret how unreliable Ms. Skeeters articles are known to be and children themselves are known to fib in even the toughest times. Perhaps Miss Potter was simply tired of her brother being made out to be a liar.”

Albus Dumbledore had always been a bit too infallible in Amelia’s eyes. His sway over Cornelius Fudge and the vast majority of the magical community just added onto that. He had a way of getting almost anyone on his side, to a point where they’d ignore laws or regulations just to appease him.

Unfortunately for him, Amelia wasn’t one of those people.

“Truth or not,” she said, stepping further into the room. “I will be speaking with them both. If it turns out to be a fabricated tale then I will close the investigation.” Amelia made sure to meet Dumbledore’s eyes as she continued on firmly. “But if there is even a semblance of truth in all of this then I will get to the bottom of it, no matter how long it takes.”

Dumbledore eyed her for a moment, nodding once in agreement. Minerva needed no other word as she made for the door, off to find both Potter twins.

“I trust you have a room I can speak to them both in,” Amelia said.

Dumbledore waved one hand towards his desk. “You are more than welcome to use my office.”

Nodding steadily, Amelia told him. “You will need to leave while I speak with them.”

A frown made its way onto the man's face. “Considering their young age, I believe it would be best for me to stay. Offer some moral support. I am their Magical Guardian after all.”

Amelia resisted the urge to scowl. “Considering what I’m investigating, your capabilities as a Magical Guardian are in serious doubt. I will speak to each of them one on one.” She could practically see Dumbledore weighing the pros and cons of arguing this topic but eventually he nodded in acquiesce.

After Dumbledore made his reluctant exit, Amelia waved her wand and casted a series of spells that would disable any listening charms on any of the surfaces in the room. She then casted another that would prevent anyone outside of the office from being able to hear them. One to reveal anyone hidden by disguise, Animagus or Transfiguration. Finally she casted a spell that would prevent the portraits hanging on the walls from speaking about anything that was said in the next three hours.

That last one was a rather handy spell when it came to the Headmaster's Office in Hogwarts.

As she moved over to the large mahogany desk that stood upon a small, raised area she thought over what she was going to ask first. Amelia knew she wanted to speak to each twin on their own to try and get a sense of what was going on with their home life. She didn’t want to risk one of them keeping the other from saying something; plus she’d get a better sense of what was true and what wasn’t with them on their own.

Harry Potter wasn’t the best liar around from what she had heard, and he was rather honest about things. Cornelius had mentioned last summer, with barely concealed incredulity, how the boy had asked after his punishment for using magic over the summer instead of just accepting the free pass he had gotten from the Minister of Magic himself.

Rose Potter— Amelia wasn’t too sure about the girl. She wasn’t even sure that the normally quiet girl would even speak with her today. Amelia hoped that if the girl felt strong enough to speak to the press about what happened then she would be willing to speak to a Ministry Official too.

She’d have to wait and see.

Amelia was leaning against the front of Dumbledore’s desk when she heard Minerva’s voice speaking lowly. Canting her head to one side she could make out the sound of the woman’s stiff but sincere reassurances to both kids.

When Minerva stepped into view, she gave Amelia a brief nod before turning back to the twins.

“Head on in,” she ordered softly.

Harry and Rose Potter looked a great deal alike considering they weren’t identical twins. They had yet to completely lose the roundedness of youth on their faces, though if one looked close enough they could see the facial features they’d soon grow into.

Despite their mother being a Muggleborn, they held a lot of Pureblood features. The soft upturn slope of their noses, their pale skin and rounded eyes. Both of them had hair that was a deep black, though Harry’s was a great deal wilder than Rose’s.

Perhaps it was their eyes that had them looking so alike, the same luminous green that had Amelia feeling a bit on edge. Why exactly, she couldn’t say.

They walked forward, hand in hand, until they were standing just behind the lone chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk. They eyed her in silence, Harry more visibly anxious than his sister.

“Good afternoon,” Amelia said evenly. “My name is Amelia Bones. I am the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” She didn’t think it was possible but Harry looked even more anxious and she could see his hand tighten around his sister’s. “There are a few things I’d like to speak with you both about.”

Harry eyed her warily. “Do we have to?”

Amelia pursed her lips. “Considering the topic, I am going to say yes.” He nodded, swallowing once, and eyed the single chair with a bit of confusion. “I’m going to speak with you one at a time,” Amelia informed them calmly and in what she hoped was a reassuring voice she added. “It’s a typical procedure when we take statements.”

They shared a glance, something that had Amelia tensing slightly, before Harry murmured their agreement.

With that the interview began.

“Were you expecting your sister to do the interview?” Amelia asked Harry, who was fidgeting in the chair.

Harry shook his head. “No. I didn’t think Ro’ would ever do an interview, just cause she never really talks to anyone else… I didn’t find out about the whole thing until after the first task.”

“Did you approach Rita Skeeter, or did she approach you?” She inquired to Rose Potter, who, unlike her brother, was seated straight back and still in her seat.

“I approached her,” Rose said easily.

“How much of what your sister talked about is true?” 

Harry frowned. “Well… all of it. Ro’ wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“Why didn’t the two of you tell anyone about it?”

Rose’s brows ticked upward, as though in surprise. “We did. We told Headmaster Dumbledore at the end of our first year. We asked to stay at Hogwarts over the summer and told him all about how our relatives treated us.”

“… What did the headmaster have to say about your relatives?”

“He said we had to go back,” Harry said slowly, a frown twisting his features as he remembered the man’s words. “He said it was the best place for us.”

“You understand these are serious allegations you have made?”

“There are spells that will prove it,” Rose replied unflinchingly. “Spells that will give a more in depth reading on our health, past and present. Cast it on us.”

The unworried and determined look plastered on her face had Amelia feeling as though she wouldn’t like the looks of those test results. Rose Potter did not look like a child who told a lie and was in way over her head. She looked like a child who had had enough and decided to reveal information in the most public way possible. In a way that could not be covered up or hidden again.

Considering Dumbledore’s lack of action when first being made aware of the abuse, Amelia couldn’t fault the girl for that.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Amelia stared at Rose Potter in contemplation. This was going to cause a lot of problems; she couldn’t even begin to imagine how Cornelius would react when he heard Dumbledore’s role in things. She could scarcely believe it herself. They would cast the spells on the twins, needed to for solid proof of abuse, and then they would—

They would what?

“Tomorrow two St. Mungo’s Healers will be brought to Hogwarts to gather the necessary evidence from you and your brother,” Amelia said slowly, getting a brief nod in response. “If there are signs of abuse then neither you nor your brother will return to the Dursley household and we will need to start searching for new living arrangements as well as a new guardian for the two of you.”

That was the tricky part; finding someone to take them in. It’s not that no one would want to— far from it actually— it was just that everyone would want to. Everyone in the wizarding world would clamour to be the family that took in the famous Twins-Who-Lived.

“Of the people your parents left for you to be taken in by, none are available,” Amelia inclined her head to the side as she added the next part absently. “That is why Dumbledore took over as your guardian after their death.”

Obviously he would not be anymore. If the subject was pushed, he could have charges pressed against him, although that would be more for the twins’ new guardian to take care of. Amelia imagined there weren’t a whole lot of people who would be willing to go against Dumbledore, she vaguely wondered if the twins would even want them to.

Dumbledore himself could be charged with neglect, abandonment, and child endangerment for his part in the Potter twins’ lives.

Amelia made a note to herself to talk to the Squib Dumbledore had said he set up near the twins. Why hadn’t she said anything to the man?

“What about Sirius Black?”

Startling slightly, Amelia looked back to the expectant expression of Rose Potter. Sirius Black? The worry that no one bothered to tell the twins about Black’s history with their parent’s suddenly rushed to the forefront of her mind.

“… Black is a convicted felon. He is still wanted for numerous crimes and has a Kiss-On-Sight order—”

“But he didn’t do it.” Rose cut in.

That had Amelia leaning back. “What makes you say that?” She asked slowly.

“We talked to him,” the girl informed her promptly. “He told us what happened. Peter Pettigrew betrayed our parents and killed those Muggles.”

Frowning faintly, Amelia refuted hesitantly, her mind whirring over the fact that the Potter twins apparently spoke to Black and lived to tell the tale. “Just because he said that happened, doesn’t mean—”

Standing abruptly, a stubbornly insistent look on her face, Rose said. “He was telling the truth. We even saw Pettigrew. He was masquerading as our friend Ron’s pet rat.”

Pettigrew was an illegal Animagus? “We?”

“Me, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Professor Lupin,” Rose relayed instantly, looking up at her with wide eyes.

Why was this the first she heard of it? “Why didn’t you come forward with this information?” Amelia asked with a slightly wary tone of voice.

“Headmaster Dumbledore talked to Sirius. He said he believed him. I thought he would tell you about it, he is the Chief Warlock, it’s in his power to call for trials or retrials if he feels need be.”

Dumbledore knew about this… Amelia could feel a headache coming on. While she knew Albus Dumbledore had a tendency to take matters into his own hand, she didn’t think he would do so to the point where he allowed a possibly innocent man to remain guilty in the eyes of the law.

“Sirius is our godfather,” Rose said slowly, keeping her piercing stare locked on Amelia all the while. “We were supposed to be with him this whole time. Can’t he get a retrial and then he can take us in?”

Amelia forced her haywire thoughts to the back of her mind for now as she looked at the hesitantly hopeful expression on Rose Potter's face. She didn’t know if what the girl said was true but she had a gut feeling that she hadn’t lied to her yet and that had Amelia feeling uneasy. Her list of things to investigate seemed to be growing and her ire with Albus Dumbledore along with it.

“We would have to wait to see how the retrial would go first,” Amelia told the girl, not mentioning that Dumbledore never brought the issue forward. “And even then, he’d have to get a clean bill of health from St. Mungo’s before he would be considered for guardianship. That won’t be an easy feat, Azkaban is hard on a person and Black had been there for over a decade.”

Rose nodded slowly, her expression falling. The sight of it had Amelia promising to personally look into it and she got a soft smile in response.

“You may head out now,” Amelia told her quietly. “I’ll see you and your brother in just a few days.”

Without another word, Rose Potter nodded, turning for the door. Amelia watched as she made her way out to the hall where her brother was no doubt waiting and had a feeling of dread at the paperwork that now awaited her.

Unseen by Amelia Bones, Rose Potter let herself smirk faintly. This had turned out just as she hoped, and if things turned out right, Sirius would be getting a retrial and his innocence back, and Harry and Rose would never have to see Privet Drive again.

As promised, Amelia Bones showed up at Hogwarts two days after their talk along with two St. Mungo’s Healers. The twins were ushered into the Medical Wing where they had the needed spells cast upon them by both Healers and soon Madam Bones had two rolls of parchment with a history of their injuries.

The woman was rather stony-faced when she left, giving them both a firm nod and a word of advice that once their Magical Guardian had been settled that they should be going back to St. Mungo’s for potions to help them with their health.

Harry’s face twisted up at the thought but nodded hesitantly. He had mixed feelings about Rose’s actions as of late— on the one hand he was a bit embarrassed that everyone now knew how their relatives treated them; on the other hand the vast majority of Hogwarts’ attitude towards him had improved greatly. He hardly ever saw the Potter Stinks! badge’s besides Malfoy and his little gang and he was happy to ignore them.

Madam Bones didn’t offer any news regarding Sirius’s trial, but then again, Rose hadn’t expected her to.

The two of them had received a letter from Sirius earlier that day about the contents of Skeeter’s article, and as expected he was not happy. Rose was aware that if things worked out the way she hoped then Sirius would be marching them to St. Mungo’s the first chance he got.

Harry pulled out the letter that he had stored in his pocket when McGonagall came to get them and reread the words, feeling a mix of dread and happiness at the man's worry.

Harry and Rosie,

I read your article in the Daily Prophet! Why didn’t you tell me? I always knew Lily’s sister was a bitch awful woman, but I never thought she’d stoop to…

I’m almost at Hogwarts, let me know your next Hogsmeade trip, if I’m there at the same time I want to see you. The both of you.

Sirius

P.S. Harry, great job with the first task, I just got that article when I was about to send my letter off. I’m glad things worked out even though we got cut off in the middle of our conversation. 

Keep an eye out for each other, whoever put Harry’s name in the tournament is no doubt still around. Be safe.

Harry wondered if he should feel guilty that he was happy that Sirius was worrying, the list of people who actually worried about them was a short one. Pushing that out of his mind for now, Harry stored the letter away and looked over at Rose.

“Do you know who Hermione is going with to the Yule Ball?”

Rose nodded as she turned to leave the Medical Wing, Harry quickly falling into step with her.

“Who is it?”

His only reply was a smirk which made him frown.

“Did you figure out the egg yet?”

Harry’s face pulled into a scowl. After the first task each of the champions had received a large golden egg, the same egg they had stolen from the dragon’s nest. Harry had tried opening it in Gryffindor Tower but the ear-splitting shriek it let out had him closing it up as soon as possible and left him reluctant to do it again.

Besides, Harry had had other things to worry about, the egg kind of fell to the bottom of his priorities list.

Hogwarts would be hosting a Yule Ball, apparently it was a tradition with the Triwizard Tournament. Fourth-years and up were all welcome to attend— the younger years could too if they had a date that was old enough to go— and all the champions were expected to bring dates. Harry honestly would prefer going up against another dragon then having to do this week over again.

He had eventually manned up and asked Parvati Patil and managed to secure her sister Padma as a date for Ron.

“I can’t wait for this ball to be over with,” Harry sighed suddenly, not even bothering to answer his sister’s question. She knew him well enough to infer the answer anyways.

Rose smiled at him in consolation. She knew her brother was a bit disappointed that the girl he actually wanted to go with already had a date when he asked. Not to mention her date was Cedric Diggory, who Harry was a bit cross with at the moment.

As the two made their way through the halls they passed a great deal of students along the way. This year more kids than ever before had signed up to stay over the holidays, no surprise there. Everyone seemed abuzz for the ball and Rose was only mildly interested. As it were, her interest was more for seeing the way wizards from different cultures interacted in a semi-formal setting more than anything else. Considering it was a bunch of kids, she didn’t think it would hold her attention as well as she would hope.

Both so lost in their own thoughts, neither twin noticed the bush of hair that suddenly darted in their direction, almost crashing into them.

“Woah,” Harry said, reaching out a hand to steady Hermione who looked as though she just ran a marathon. Ron came up behind her looking just as out of breath.

“Look, look!” Hermione cried to them both, brandishing a piece of paper in their faces.

“Merlin, ‘Mione, they can’t read it with you waving it about.” Ron said.

When Hermione stilled the paper Harry and Rose saw the title first and foremost.

Mistrial!—No trial?

Shocking New Evidence May Declare Sirius Black Innocent!

Harry snatched the paper out of Hermione’s hand in an instant, hurriedly scanning through the article.

Turns out Sirius Black, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, never received a trial in ’81.

Rumours that multiple people have seen Peter Pettigrew alive.

Head of the DMLE Amelia Bones makes a statement that Black will receive a fair trial and the Kiss-On-Sight order has been revoked.

“He’s getting a trial…” Harry breathed in disbelief. He felt frozen in his shock, not moving even as Rose took the paper out of his hands to read the whole thing properly.

“I mentioned we all saw Pettigrew to Madam Bones,” she said offhandedly. “Thought you ought to know in case she decides to ask for our memories of that night.”

The three Gryffindors looked at the girl in shock, none knowing what to say, before Ron blurted out. “I’ll mail mine to her right now!” Harry and Rose both shot the boy a fondly amused look that had Ron doing a double take. “Merlin, I forget you guys are twins sometimes.”

Harry and Rose glanced at each other in consideration, then shrugged. “How come you never said anything?” Harry asked Rose quietly.

Rose pursed her lips for a moment, then slowly said, “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up. I wasn’t sure if it would work or if she’d even believe me.”

The fact that Sirius never got a trial was news to Rose. Perhaps that’s what helped propel Madam Bones’ decision to take on this case. A family Lord being imprisoned with no trial was quite the blunder on the Ministry’s part.

Was this why Sirius had a Kiss-On-Sight order? To cover it up?

“You think he’ll be free?” Harry asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rose looked over at him and reached out to take his hand, squeezing it tightly. She honestly hoped so— though she couldn’t say that hope was really for Sirius. A part of it was, that small voice in the back of her mind saying he deserved it, but most of that hope was for her and Harry, for the hope that they’d never have to go back to the Dursleys.

Sirius was their best shot. The only shot they ever had.

This Christmas Eve was a lot trickier for Harry and Rose to spend together, what with everyone choosing to stay this year, but they managed it. (Thank Merlin for Dad’s Invisibility Cloak) As they have for their entire life, they woke up Christmas morning together and opened presents— the presents part was a bit of a newer tradition— this year with the added presence of Dobby who popped in for a visit.

The majority of the day flew by, with a good percentage of the Hogwarts population spending a fair few hours getting ready for the ball; not all of them girls. Harry had spent the day playing outside with Ron and his brothers while Hermione got ready for the ball and Rose stayed in her dorm— researching something no doubt.

When it came time to get ready themselves, the four boys made their way up to Gryffindor Tower and Harry felt the first trickle of nerves crawl in. He and Ron— whose once frilly dress robes were noticeably better than what his mother had given him, though not by much— had dressed in silence then made their way downstairs.

Fred and George were dressed impeccably, looking uncharacteristically serious in their all-black robes. Fred’s date Angelina looked incredible in deep red dress robes adorned with gold accents.

She sure brought her Gryffindor spirit, Harry thought with slight amusement.

Parvati looked great as well, her dress obviously well made, and to Harry’s relief she wasn’t giggling. At Parvati’s suggestion the two of them and Ron headed down, Fred throwing Harry a wink as he went.

“Who’s Ro’ going with?” Ron asked suddenly as they were coming down the last set of stairs.

Harry looked over at him in surprise. Honestly, it hadn’t even crossed his mind that Rose might go. His sister wasn’t exactly the most social person around, preferring the company of books to people most of the time.

“Is she coming to the ball?” He asked slowly. In reply Ron jerked his head forward to the bottom of the staircase.

Sure enough, there was Rose. She was dressed in a dark green— no surprise there— set of dress robes that matched Harry’s. Unlike Harry’s, hers were lined with silver accents and she had a silver pendant dangling from her neck. Her hair was curled and pulled up into a bun with a few strands framing her face. She looked perfectly at ease with herself which Harry found himself slightly envious of.

“Ro’?”

Turning her head Rose smiled briefly as she saw her brother, Ron, and Harry’s date coming down the stairs. She offered a small wave in greeting, nodding in approval at Harry’s outfit for the evening. She was glad they made a habit of getting new dress robes each year, something that really paid off this time as Madam Malkin firmly suggested buying some more high-end dress robes for this year.

“Who are you going with?” Ron asked her with a frown as they stepped off the staircase, barely glancing over as his date for the night greeted him.

The Patil twins both looked lovely tonight, the colours of their outfits complimenting their darker skin tone nicely. While Parvati seemed fairly happy with the date she secured tonight, Padma did not, eyeing Ron’s slightly frayed robes with clear disdain.

In reply to Ron’s question, Rose gestured behind the two of them with one hand.

Heads swinging simultaneously, Harry and Ron were both surprised to see George swiftly coming down the steps.

“George?” Ron said incredulously.

George threw Ron a mocking look as he passed by them. “Yeah, unlike you Ronniekins, I can secure a date without my friends having to do it for me.” Ron scowled fiercely at his brother while the Patil twins giggled quietly. George didn’t look at all affected by Ron’s scowl as he grinned over at Rose, coming to a stop beside her.

“You look great, Rosie,” he told her sincerely.

Rose gave him a smile and a once over, taking in his outfit for the evening with a critical eye. She gave a nod as she found it acceptable and George preened slightly.

Harry frowned at the two. “George is your date? Really?”

George shot Harry a faux-offended look. “Am I not good looking enough?” He asked, hand to his chest.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Rose just gave a shrug and hit George lightly on the arm, gesturing to the Great Hall when he glanced at her.

“Right,” George said, as though he just remembered why they were there. “Let’s head in, shall we?” He offered his arm out to Rose, who took it easily enough. Ron didn’t follow their example, instead lingering behind with Harry, his eyes scanning the crowd for Hermione.

The Great Hall was decorated beautifully, like a winter wonderland. The walls had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had been vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

“I’m hoping you don’t want to sit with any Slytherin’s in your year,” George muttered quietly to her, a smirk on his face. “No offence.”

Rose huffed quietly and shook her head. She didn’t particularly care where they sat, it was not as though she’d be making much conversation.

She had been mildly surprised when George found her in the library not too long ago and asked her to the ball. He had been uncharacteristically awkward about the whole thing, stuttering his way through it. Rose had been reading in the library by herself when he slid into the seat across from her, a hesitant expression on his face. She lifted one brow in question and the boy shifted awkwardly.

“Do you wanna go to the ball with me, Rosie?” He asked straight out, the words sounding oddly mechanical, as though he repeated them so much that they no longer seemed like words. Rose tilted her head to the side in surprise and, seeing it, George hurried on. “As friends I mean,” he said awkwardly. “Not that you’re— I mean— I was just hoping—” 

It appeared the less Rose said the more nervous George got, which was unfortunate for him considering who he was talking to.

“I didn’t really want to ask anyone, just cause I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea,” George explained. “I mean— I know I could probably ask Katie or Alicia but I didn’t want to give them the wrong impression or have them expect anything and be disappointed...” He pushed a hand through his hair anxiously, glancing around their surroundings. “I’m just not really interested in uh— not that I haven’t tried to be— I mean, maybe I am, but not with someone I'm not seriously into... I just don’t think— I know most of the guys don’t care about—”

Rose put the boy out of his misery and clamped a hand over his mouth, cutting off his steady stream of words. George looked at her with anxious eyes and she felt a moment of sympathy for him. So, George wasn’t physically into meaningless hook-ups... Rose was pretty sure the Muggle world had an actual name for it but she wasn’t too sure. She’d have to look it up during the summer.

When she pulled her hand back, George smiled sheepishly at her. “So... Do you wanna go with me?”

Smiling faintly, Rose nodded once, and George let out a sigh of relief.

“Great, I’ll meet you at the main entrance way just before the ball starts,” George said happily, his usual confident demeanor back now that the hard part of their conversation had passed.

It wasn’t exactly a hardship for Rose to go with George and considering how the boy explained things she felt they were in kind of the same boat. Rose had very little desire to go to the dance with a boy who felt he was entitled to something more but did not want to go with someone she was close with when they could go with someone they were generally interested in and who would want to move things further.

As they got older Rose knew that teenagers would think more and more about the opposite, or at times, the same sex— even both. Rose, however, did not. She had a sense of curiosity, sure, but it was the same curiosity she had when researching a new topic of interest. She had no desire to actually engage in the activity herself.

Which made George’s proposition so appealing. From the sounds of it, George didn’t want to go any further than what friendship entails with a girl unless he felt he had a deep connection with her.

It also helped that Rose quite liked the Weasley twins. They were an ingenious pair, and it was always interesting to hear them talk about their latest creations. They would often go into detail on the potions and spells involved when either one of them spoke with her, which she always appreciated.

Rose let George lead her towards a table that had his brother, Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell and a Durmstrang boy. There were still four empty seats when they sat down but Rose didn’t spare them a glance.

“Hey, Rosie!” Fred said in his normal cheerful voice and Rose gave him a nod which only served to make him grin. Angelina opened her mouth to ask Rose something, only to stop suddenly when four people sat down. Rose glanced over as Adrian slid into the empty seat beside her, a girl she was sure was from Durmstrang following suit and Graham next to her while his date, a Beauxbatons girl, sat primly next to him.

The Gryffindors eyed the two Slytherin’s a bit wearily but didn’t look unwelcoming; Adrian and Graham for their part did not look as though anything was remiss. Rose had to credit the two foreign girls on their discretion when they only side-eyed the scar on her throat for a moment before tactfully looking away. The same could not be said for the Durmstrang boy who was staring at her scar with faintly wide eyes, only glancing away when he got a nudge from his date.

Angelina only let their new arrivals deter her for a short moment then turned to Rose again. “So, how nervous is Harry about all this?”

Rose snorted which had Fred, George, and Lee cracking up.

Professor McGonagall had everyone's attention before anyone else could comment further, announcing in an even voice that carried well that the champions and their dates would now be entering.

Rose watched as Fleur Delacour led the march, striding in gracefully with her date, a boy she believed was Roger Davies. The boy looked more starstruck at his date than at the decorated hall. Cedric Diggory was next, Cho Chang happily walking by his side with a gorgeous set of dress robes.

She wondered how Harry was doing seeing the two together, she knew her brother had a bit of a crush on the girl.

One of the people Rose was most excited to see came next.

“Is that Hermione?” Fred balked.

Sure enough, walking alongside Viktor Krum was a beautiful looking Hermione. Her once bushy hair was now sleek, shiny and twisted up in an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing the floaty, periwinkle-blue robes that she had showed Rose a few weeks ago and Rose couldn’t help but smile at the confident way she was holding herself.

Eyes scanning the crowds Rose quickly found the person she was looking for. Ron was gaping at Hermione in disbelief, the look slowly morphed into a scowl as he looked over at her date for the night.

Well, there went Ron’s hero-worship of Krum.

Harry came in last, being led by a preening Parvati. Her brother looked terribly awkward, never one for being the centre of attention. Rose was very proud of him for not tripping and she knew Harry enough by now to tell that all his attention was going into managing that very task.

When the champions made their way to the head table and took their seats, Dumbledore wasted no time in getting dinner started. Everyone waited for a beat to see how exactly they were supposed to pick their food when there was none in sight and quickly caught on as the headmaster gave a demonstration.

The evening carried on easily enough, conversation flowing fairly well considering it was a table of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments and the lanterns on all the other tables went out, then the champions and their partners were standing up.

“Wanna dance, Rosie?” George asked easily enough as Fred and Angelina made their way off, mischievous grins on their faces.

Rose considered it for a moment, she didn’t think she’d really like dancing but how would she know till she tried. Nodding once, she pointed at George with a serious look on her face that had him laughing.

“I promise to dance to the best of my abilities,” he said solemnly, a hand over his heart and a grin on his face.

The Weasleys were always skilled at understanding what Rose wanted to say without her ever having to say anything. She wondered if that was simply a quality families with multiple children had. She could see it; if they ever wanted to discuss something without letting their parents or other siblings know they’d have to be skilled at communicating without words.

Smiling, Rose stood up, letting George lead her out onto the dance floor, relieved when the boy steered them away from the exuberant forms of Fred and Angelina.

They wound up dancing for quite some time, Fred, George, and Lee trading partners on the fly with grins on their faces. Rose didn’t bother rolling her eyes, finding the three boys’ carefree nature to be oddly refreshing. Eventually, when Rose had made her way back to George, Fred cut in with a murmur in George’s ear.

George looked off in another direction and when Rose followed his stare she could see a group of people she wasn’t sure she recognized.

“Mind if we stop, Rosie?” George asked her, tearing his eyes away from the group.

Rose stepped back with a nod, smiling in thanks at the boy and getting a pair of matching grins from both twins. She watched on as their faces turned serious and they quickly weaved through the crowd.

As she made her way off to the table they had been seated at, Rose wondered what the twins were up to now. When she sat down, she glanced over at them again and just managed to catch the recognizable figure of Ludo Bagman exiting the Great Hall, the twins trailing behind him.

Did they want to make another wager with the man?

Rose knew the twins had made quite the fair sum off of the former Quidditch player during the summer. They had made a bet on the Quidditch World Cup game and came out on top.

“They have any wagers with him?”

Rose jumped slightly and turned to face Adrian. She hadn’t heard him sitting down, mind you with the volume of this music she wasn’t surprised. Adrian wasn’t looking at her, instead staring off at where the twins disappeared.

When he looked back at her, she gave him a nod.

“They win?”

Another nod.

Adrian grimaced. “Marcus said Bagman’s in some real trouble,” he muttered lowly, leaning in closely to speak near her ear. “Apparently he’s in debt and the goblins are out for blood. If the Weasley twins won a bet with him, odds are he didn’t pay them back.”

Rose frowned. She distinctly remembered the man handing Fred and George numerous galleons at the Quidditch match. Tilting her head, she tried to think back to that day, no way the man had time to transfigure that many items into coins...

Then she remembered— Leprechaun gold, the place had been rife with it.

Rose looked over at where the twins had disappeared. She knew the two had been relying on that money to start their shop off, they were probably furious that they had it stolen from them.

Pushing the thought from her mind for now, Rose lifted a brow in question to Adrian.

“The ball is alright,” Adrian replied to her unasked question. “Better than most Pureblood soirées.”

Rose would take his word for it.

She wondered where Harry was, should she find him? More than anything she wanted to go back to her dorm, her mind already tired of the long evening. Pursing her lips, she decided that she’d talk to Harry tomorrow, she wanted to go back to her dorm and sleep.

All in all, it was not the worst evening of her life.

Chapter Text

Rose Potter was difficult to figure out. As most of Slytherin now knew, she has held the head spot of the Slytherin Hierarchy since last year and so far, no one has contested that. Marcus had been a strong-willed head and no one was willing to question his decisions while he was still at Hogwarts. But he was gone now, and while Adrian was no slouch in power, he didn’t exactly have the sway or intimidation skills that Marcus had.

While there were those who doubted Potter’s position, they still had the self-preservation not to do so publicly. After all Potter may very well know their family secrets if rumours were to be believed— how exactly no one knew for sure but a group of older students a few years back had gotten extra paranoid about keeping secrets around the same time they started being nice to Potter— and some just couldn’t risk her spilling them.

If she even knew them.

Hestia and Flora Carrow were two Slytherins in their sixth and seventh year, respectfully. They were sisters and while they did not have the formable reputation their aunt and uncle did— everyone knew about the Carrow twins— they still had their own skills. They didn’t have any desire to fight in the ranks of Death Eaters when the Dark Lord returned but they did both want to be married to one. 

A powerful one at that.

The two were smart enough not to test Potter on their own. Instead they’d used a younger— and stupider— girl to do it.

Pansy Parkinson did not make her disdain for Rose Potter even slightly subtle. She hated the girl very publicly and did her best to put her down any chance she got. Unfortunately for her, Potter paid her very little mind which seemed to rankle Parkinson more than anything.

Her irritation with Potter only seemed to grow as the years went on. No one could say why exactly. Perhaps it was because Potter had better grades than her or because Potter was considerably more attractive even with the in-plain-sight scarring on her neck. Though, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly a competition with Parkinson’s borderline pug-like face.

Everyone knew Pansy Parkinson had her eyes set on being the next Lady Malfoy and the fact that it was widely known that Draco Malfoy was already set to marry Daphne Greengrass’s younger sister Astoria did little to deter her. As such, Parkinson took it upon herself to try and belittle the Slytherin Potter like Malfoy belittled the Gryffindor Potter.

Keeping that in mind, the Carrow sisters decided to nudge the unknowing girl into a more forbidden topic; one that was sure to affect Rose Potter more than snide comments about her looks ever would.

The interview Potter did with Skeeter was just the ammunition the two girls had been waiting for.

They planned it out subtly, making sure Parkinson was nearby to hear some muttered comments but not so close as to be able to tell who first said them. Then they waited— and they knew they wouldn’t have to wait long— for the girl to say something similar to Potter.

The tricky part was being around for the moment of truth. The two of them had taken to hanging out in the Slytherin common room more often than not lately, especially if they knew Potter was around. It had only been a few days since the Yule Ball when the moment they were waiting for arrived.

Potter was sitting in what could be considered her regular spot in front of the fire, a book open in her lap. The two Carrows were sitting in another seating area not far from her and both resisted the urge to grin as Parkinson waltzed on in.

The irritating girl was, as usual, with Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis; the former was a rather burly girl that one would expect to be related to either Crabbe or Goyle while the latter was a far prettier dark-haired girl who walked around with a perpetual sneer on her face. These three, Potter, and Daphne Greengrass were the only fourth-year Slytherin girls.

It was no surprise that Parkinson surrounded herself with these two. Bulstrode’s looks would drive boys' interests away while Davis’ personality would do the same; it was hard for Parkinson not to look like good pickings in that group.

The Greengrass’ were a fairly Neutral family, which made it no surprise that Greengrass herself made no move to hang around either Potter— who most would assume was Light orientated— or Parkinson’s crew— who were made up of Dark orientated families.

Hestia and Flora watched as Parkinson made for the dorms and saw the moment her eyes found Potter. A mixture between a smirk and a sneer made it across her face and the girl sauntered closer to where Potter was seated.

“You know Draco’s right, Hogwarts really is going to the dogs,” she said loftily. “Letting Halfbloods like Potter into Slytherin, now there’s veela crawling about.” Giving a loud scoff she threw her hair over her shoulder.

Hardly a good insult against Potter, considering one of the people Parkinson surrounded herself with was in fact a Halfblood herself. When she saw her comment didn’t land, the bitter girl stepped away from her two cronies, moving closer to Potter now.

“Really, they’ll let anyone join,” she drawled. “Even near Mudbloods who let themselves be beaten down by filthy Muggles.”

Hestia and Flora both froze. They hadn’t expected the girl to go that hard; good Slytherin’s rarely did. Their insults were usually thinly veiled and only obvious to the one they insulted. Then again— Parkinson wasn’t exactly a good Slytherin when she was particularly frustrated.

Grinning over her shoulder at her friends, who both had cautious looking smirks on their faces, Parkinson went on. “I certainly would never let—”

With a sudden choking sound, Parkinson stopped talking. And when she turned forward Hestia and Flora could see her face slowly turning red as she opened and shut her mouth uselessly, a hand pressed against her throat. Her face slowly went from red to purple as she began making wheezing sounds and she stumbled forward a step, falling to her knees.

Smirks long gone now, Bulstrode and Davis stepped towards their friend only to freeze in place.

Potter had stood up.

Her book nowhere in sight, she calmly strolled over to where Parkinson was still trying to draw air into her lungs, and when she was in front of the other Slytherin Potter reached out with one hand to grip her jaw and forcibly turned Parkinson’s face towards her. Bending slightly to get a good look at the struggling girl, Potter did nothing but scan Parkinson’s borderline blue face then abruptly let go and straightened back to a proper stand.

As soon as that happened Parkinson finally pulled in a deep breath, swaying slightly at the sudden onslaught of oxygen in her lungs, her head dropping until her forehead rested on the ground in front of Potter’s feet. Potter stared down at her as she heaved in breaths before looking towards Bulstrode and Davis, both of whom remained still, clearly afraid to get closer to their friend.

Lifting one brow, her eyes flickered to a still kneeling Parkinson. Potter waited for the two to get the silent order and did nothing but watch as they rushed to gather up their friend, hauling her to the dorms. None of them even glanced Potter’s way the entire time.

When the three girls had disappeared from view, Potter lifted one hand towards her seat, beckoning her fingers towards herself and Hestia and Flora watched silently as Potter’s bag flew into her outstretched hand. Potter made her way out of the Slytherin common room next and she didn’t spare a glance at any of the numerous eyes that had been present for the little showdown.

Slytherin’s were full of self-preservation. They didn’t go into a fight if they weren’t a hundred percent sure they would win it. Safe to say, none of those watching— or those who would soon be told about what happened— would be testing Potter anytime soon.

A few days after the Yule Ball a couple of Aurors found Harry, Rose, Ron and Hermione asking each of them for their memories of their encounter with Sirius. Each one happily gave them and the three Gryffindors were unable to resist adding their two cents on Sirius’ innocence.

The group had been in the library finishing the homework they neglected leading up to the holidays. With the excitement of the ball and the twins dealing with the repercussions of Rose’s interview, they had been a bit busy.

Harry only just worked out his egg clue for the second task. He had received a hint from Cedric Diggory directly after the Yule Ball but had been feeling a bit petty towards the boy and didn’t want to accept help from him. Rose flicked him hard on the forehead when he admitted this. 

He eventually caved and found out he’d need to find a way to breath underwater for about an hour before February twenty-fourth.

There was another Hogsmeade trip not too long ago and although they knew Sirius had hoped to be here by then, both Harry and Rose knew the man likely wouldn’t make it on time. Harry was glad Rose had the foresight to include the next two Hogsmeade trip dates on the letter they had sent him a while back.

Hagrid was dealing with the fallout of an article written by Rita Skeeter. Apparently his mother was a giant— Rose didn’t understand the surprise. Anyone looking at Hagrid could see he had to have at least had some giant blood in him. She’s never seen anyone— barring Madam Maxime— anywhere near his size. After the Hogsmeade trip Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been determined to speak to Hagrid who had been hiding out as of late.

It was this visit that had Harry sucking up his pride about the egg, which Rose was glad for.

Harry had gathered them together in the back corner of the library the next morning, hurriedly whispering about what happened the night he followed Cedric’s instruction about the egg.

“You said you had already figured out the clue!” Hermione cried.

Ron hushed her, more interested in hearing about Snape and Moody.

“So, Moody thinks Snape might be the one who put your name in the Goblet?” Ron asked eagerly.

Harry shrugged. “I mean— he seemed suspicious of him.” He frowned in thought then suddenly remembered. “Oh, and I lent him the map.”

That had Rose leaning across the table to flick his forehead angrily.

“Ow!”

Rose glared at him. Why would he give up such a valuable piece of work?

“Well, he kept Snape from getting it and he was interested, it’s not like I could really say no...”

The four had their heads bent towards each other across the table they were sitting at, Rose and Hermione on one side and Harry and Ron on the other.

“I don’t care what Moody says,” Hermione said stubbornly. “Dumbledore’s not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn’t have given them jobs, so why shouldn’t he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a bit—”

“— evil,” Ron said promptly. “Come on, Hermione, why are all these Dark wizard catchers searching his office, then?”

“Why has Mr. Crouch been pretending to be ill?” Hermione questioned, ignoring Ron. “It’s a bit funny, isn’t it, that he can’t manage to come to the Yule Ball, but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to?”

“You just don’t like Crouch because of that elf, Winky,” Ron said astutely, leaning back in his seat.

“You just want to think Snape’s up to something,” Hermione retorted with a cross of her arms.

Both statements were true but both were too stubborn to admit that.

“I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance, if he’s on his second one,” Harry said with a grim look. He never really trusted Snape, even with the man supposedly trying to save his life back in their first year. “I also want to know why he grabbed his arm when Moody was talking about stains...”

“It’s where the Dark Mark is,” Rose supplied.

It was almost comical how quickly Harry, Ron and Hermione’s heads turned toward her. She was almost worried about their necks.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. “I thought that was just something they put in the sky when they attacked?”

Rose shook her head. “Voldemort gave most of his followers a Mark. It’s the same image as what they’d put in the sky during attacks and it’s on their left forearms.”

Now Ron frowned. “How do you know this?”

His only reply was a look that screamed, come on now.

“No way,” Hermione refused. “There’s no way Professor Dumbledore would hire a—” She glanced around nervously before leaning forward again. “— a Death Eater to teach children.”

Rose eyed the girl with barely hidden disbelief. Dumbledore’s choices were morally dubious at best. “The man literally let someone cast an Unforgivable on us in class and you have a hard time believing he hired a once-Death Eater?”

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times then scowled, clearly not able to think of a retort to that. They all knew the girl had been appalled at the choice to use the Imperius Curse on them, she even went as far as to look into the Hogwarts rule books to see if it was even allowed. She never did find anything concrete regarding the subject but she was still miffed.

“Once-Death Eater?” Ron repeated in question.

Nodding once, Rose finally looked away from Hermione to answer Ron. “Apparently he switched sides near the end,” Rose said, her voice skeptical. “Dumbledore’s the only reason he didn’t wind up in Azkaban.”

And boy did that infuriate her when Marcus told her about it. Albus Dumbledore was willing to defend a man who he knew was a Death Eater and had willingly taken the Dark Mark but couldn’t be bothered to get a trial for a man who all but swore his loyalty to him when he was still a teenager?

She’d never say as much outright, not wanting to connect those dots for her brother who wasn’t known for his levelness when it came to his anger. Despite his slights against the two of them, Rose knew Harry still respected Dumbledore, believed in him.

The four of them lapsed into a completive silence, Hermione getting that familiar look on face whenever she was faced with something she deemed unjust. Rose knew she relied heavily on authority figures, accepting their words as true even when she had minor doubts. That was one of the few things that annoyed Rose about the girl, just as much as her unwillingness to look past what information books offered.

“Mr. and Miss Potter,” a voice suddenly called out.

They all jumped and spun in their seats to see Professor McGonagall approaching. The woman looked... tired? Upset? Guilty? It wasn’t in an obvious kind of way, there was just something in the tenseness of her shoulders and the lines around her mouth and eyes.

“Come with me.”

Harry and Rose exchanged a glance but did as they were told, shooting their friends a parting look. Neither twin was all too sure what this was about but considering the slow even pace Professor McGonagall kept a few paces in front of them, it couldn’t be too bad.

They dutifully followed behind the Gryffindor Head of House, passing by the odd student here and there. They kept meeting each other's eyes, raising their brows and frowning, having a silent conversation that did not go anywhere. Why the woman wanted to speak with them was anyone's guess, it’s not like the twins have been up to much lately— barring this tournament and Rose’s interview that is. When they passed a vaguely familiar portrait Harry knew where they were headed; Professor McGonagall's office.

“Uh, why exactly are we here?” Harry asked slowly, wondering if this was about the tournament.

“Patience, Mr. Potter.” Was all Professor McGonagall offered.

Rose couldn’t help but smile at the scowl on her brother’s face. Honestly, Harry’s patience did little to improve over the years; he still wanted to know the ‘what, when and why’s’ as soon as possible.

When they finally reached the office door Professor McGonagall pushed it open without a word, leading the two inside quickly and shutting the door behind them. Harry went to ask, yet again, what was going on when he spotted a familiar figure.

“Sirius!”

Sirius looked better than the last time they saw him— though that wasn’t too hard to do. He was dressed in dark elegant robes that hung awkwardly on his thin frame; his hair was shorter, and he looked a lot cleaner. When he saw the twins his face lit up, making him look years younger. He still had shadows under his eyes and his face was still a bit gaunt but with regular meals that would fade over time.

“Harry! Rosie!” Sirius cried happily, quickly crossing the room.

Harry wasted no time in wrapping his arms around the man, happy that he seemed to be safe and well— although a bit too thin. Rose was more hesitant, stepping forward cautiously as she eyed their godfather. Sirius didn’t seem at all put out by her lack of happiness, stretching out one arm— the other still wrapped around Harry— in a silent offer. Pursing her lips, Rose stepped forward, letting Sirius pull her into a hug alongside Harry. He definitely smelled cleaner than last time, she noted absently.

When Rose stepped back, Harry followed suit, both of them looking up at Sirius in question.

“I just finished my trail,” Sirius told them cheerfully. “Innocent on all charges!”

“You already had your trial?” Harry gasped in shock.

Sirius nodded. “After the paper came out about my lack of trial, I tracked down Amelia Bones. Always heard good things about her. I told her my side of things, explained everything— even Padfoot.” He told the two of them easily, leading them over to the chairs in front of McGonagall's desk and gesturing for them to sit.

“She mentioned who brought up my innocence to her in the first place,” Sirius said casually, sending Rose a grateful look. “Thank you for that, Rosie, it doesn't look like I’d have gotten a trial anytime soon if it weren’t for Madam Bones stepping forward.”

Harry frowned. “How come you never wrote us about it?”

Sirius shook his head. “I didn’t want you two to worry about it. You’ve got enough on your plate as is.” He tilted his head in thought as he leaned back against the large desk behind him, his fingers curling around the edge of it as he did so. “I also just finished the trial. Minnie was there and was kind enough to let me pop by to tell the two of you myself.” He grinned over at Professor McGonagall who probably intended to look playfully stern but just managed a faintly guilty look. Not letting that deter him, Sirius turned back to the twins. “I figured the verdict would be on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow, so I wanted to get here first.”

Rose hadn’t expected things to go this quickly, she thought the trial would take months to get set up. Perhaps it was because Bones was pushing the whole thing. Or maybe the Ministry was receiving backlash about a Pureblood Lord being locked away without a trial— she had no doubt that would have even the Dark and Neutral Pureblood families stepping forward regardless of whether they liked Sirius or not.

Letting one case slip by just offered room for more to do the same after all.

Harry reached over to grab Rose’s hand, finding comfort in the familiar action. While he was beyond happy, this wasn’t something he was expecting, and he wasn’t sure how to process it. His brain was twisting in a million different directions about what could possibly happen next.

“Does this mean we’ll get to live with you?” Harry asked, unable to completely mask his hopeful tone.

Smiling softly, Sirius promised. “That’s the plan.” He pursed his lips in silent contemplation, eyeing the both of them carefully. “Things are a bit up in the air; as of now I am your Magical Guardian but having custody over you is something we’ll have to go to trial for. Apparently there are some people who don’t think I should be taking care of you.” He muttered the last part darkly then shook his head, eyeing the twins’ anxious expressions, however much they tried to hide them.

“I’m not worried,” Sirius said reassuringly, leaning forward in an earnest manner. “I know how this will play out and believe me the Black family has one of the best legal teams around.”

Harry and Rose tried to find comfort in the man’s confidence, but it was a bit hard. As of right now, this seemed too good to be true.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said slowly. “If you're our Magical Guardian doesn’t that mean you get to decide where we live?”

Sirius made a disagreeing noise. “Not technically. Being your Magical Guardian means I get to decide things where it concerns your magical needs. Schooling. Your family vaults. Those types of things.”

The twin’s nodded in understanding. That wasn’t news to Rose, when she learnt that Albus Dumbledore was their Magical Guardian she spent a long while researching what exactly that meant.

Sirius watched the two of them in silence for a few moments, letting them absorb this information as he relaxed back against the desk once more. “Your custody could have been an open and shut case if it weren’t for a few interferences. Considering the obvious signs of—” shaking his head Sirius forced himself to be straightforward with this. “— abuse, that means you absolutely will not stay with your relatives. I am your godfather and your parents wanted me to take care of you two if anything happened to them but there are people contesting my claim. I’ve been in Azkaban for a lot of years so some people think I may not be up for raising two kids; mentally or physically.”

Harry looked indignant at that, sitting upright as his hand clenched tightly around Rose’s. “It wasn’t your fault that you were there! It was the Ministry’s fault!”

With a fond smile Sirius gently told Harry. “They’re not gonna care about the details, Harry, they’ll just care about my capabilities. But don’t worry; there’s still four more months before summer gets here, my Healers say I should be a-okay in a month with the potions I’m on and the custody trial shouldn’t take much longer than a single hearing either. Not with the trick I got up my sleeve.” He said with a wink.

Neither Harry nor Rose could resist smiling at that.

Rose wanted to believe a lot more in the man’s words. Marcus himself had told her the generally known history of the Black family back when they still believed Sirius was out for her and Harry’s blood. The fact that their legal team was a force to be reckoned with did come up; Marcus even said a lot of the time when the Blacks got into disputes that had legal implications all it took was a mention of their lawyers to have people standing down.

Hopefully years without Black’s around to keep them in shape didn’t lead to the family lawyers losing their hard edge.

“Speaking of my Healers,” Sirius said suddenly, pulling out a silver pocket watch to check the time. “I’ve got to go meet them for a check-up.” He stood up from the desk and the twins quickly followed suit, Harry looking worried.

Staring at them with a look neither twin had seen aimed in their direction before, Sirius reached out to cup the sides of their faces with a warm, though slightly dry, hand. “I’ll come by for the second task and writing back and forth should be a lot simpler now, so don’t worry, you’ll be hearing from me a lot more.” Grinning, he added on teasingly, “I’m sure you’ll be sick of me soon enough.”

Harry and Rose let out simultaneous huffs of laughter that only served to make Sirius’s grin grow. He glanced over at Professor McGonagall as he dropped his hands.

“Thanks for letting me use your Floo, Minnie.”

Only frowning slightly at the nickname, Professor McGonagall said. “It’s no problem, I assure you.”

When Sirius made his way over to the fireplace, Harry and Rose trailed behind him, Harry still holding tightly onto Rose’s hand.

“You’ll keep us informed on the custody trial, right?” Harry asked in a fretful tone.

“Yes, Harry, I will.” Sirius promised.

Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, Sirius threw it into the fire while muttering, “St. Mungo’s!” Then turned back to the twins as the flames lit up in a bright green colour. He had that look again, the same look Harry and Rose saw Aunt Petunia give Dudley. The same look the parents who dropped their kids off at school would give them as they ran inside.

He reached out, tapped them both on the nose— Harry then Rose— and said. “Be good. I’ll see you soon.”

Harry and Rose could do nothing but nod as they watched Sirius disappear into the flames, a strange feeling clawing in their chests that felt caustically hopeful. Almost at once they squeezed each other's hand tightly, both silently hoping that this time they wouldn’t be disappointed.

The almost entirely still watery surface of the Black Lake was broken abruptly with a series of loud gasps and splashes. Three figures emerged and instinctively began kicking their legs out to keep their heads above the water. One of them suddenly turned a glare at another and, as if sensing the look, an immediate defence was said.

“It’s not my fault, Ro’!”

Not even bothering to reply, Rose began swimming over to the bank where the judges of the tournament stood watching. Just behind them were numerous stands filled with people, a lot of whom were jumping excitedly at the sight of them. 

Harry followed suit soon enough, making sure to help Gabrielle, Fleur Delacour’s younger sister. Rose glanced back at them over her shoulder and lifted a brow at her brother in question.

“Fleur didn’t show up,” Harry explained, his hair for once not up in every direction but rather laying flat due to the water, a few droplets dripping down his face that he ignored with ease. “I couldn’t just leave her down there.”

With a look of dawning realization that quickly morphed into fond exasperation Rose shook her head and continued forward, her swim more awkward due to the fact that she was wearing robes. Harry could see Madam Pomfrey fussing over Hermione, Krum, Cedric, and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets. Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Harry and Rose from the bank as they swam nearer while Percy looked like his normal stern self.

Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water. “Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she ’urt?”

“She’s fine!” Harry tried to shout back but with the tiredness quickly sweeping threw him it was no louder than a murmur.

Rose reached the shore first, Ludo Bagman quick to help pull her upright while Dumbledore and Percy went for Harry and Gabrielle. Madam Pomfrey immediately seized Harry, pulling him over to where Hermione and Krum were while Fleur dragged her sister towards herself half sobbing as she hugged her and muttered explanations. Rose pulled out her wand, casting drying charms on herself with a small scowl and wandering over to her brother. 

She wanted to be next to him when he realized how unwise his choice was, in silent support more than anything else as what was done was done.

“... did it take you ages to find us?” Hermione was asking as she reached them.

Harry frowned. “No, I was the first there... but Fleur didn’t show up and I couldn’t leave anyone behind.”

“Oh, Harry! You didn’t take the riddle seriously, did you?” Hermione cried as she stared up at him with a look of disbelief. “Professor Dumbledore was never going to leave us done there!”

Face freezing, Harry just blinked at Hermione’s words. He startled slightly as he felt a hand grab his own and when he looked up he was met with the sympathetic gaze of his sister.

Harry felt a growing sense of stupidity as he realized what happened. The clue wasn’t literal, obviously Dumbledore had safety procedures in place and Harry stayed down there for nothing... Silently berating himself, Harry glanced over at where Dumbledore was speaking with the chief merperson— clearly, he spoke Mermish.

Avoiding Rose and Hermione’s stares, Harry looked over at where Madam Pomfrey was pulling Fleur and her sister towards their area. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn’t seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them.

“Look after Gabrielle,” she told her, and then she turned to Harry. “You saved ’er,” she said breathlessly. “Even though she was not your ’ostage.”

“Yeah,” Harry said blankly, now heartily wishing he’d left all three girls tied to the statue and escaped with his sister.

Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek (he felt his face burn and wouldn’t have been surprised if steam was coming out of his ears again), then said to Rose, “And you too— you ’elped—” Frowning, Rose shook her head minutely, holding up a hand to stop the emotional teenager. It did little to deter the immensely grateful Fleur as she swept down to kiss Rose the same way she had Harry. Rose was relieved when Ludo Bagman’s magically enhanced voice suddenly sprung to life a few feet away.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows...”

In the end Harry’s strong sense of morality paid off and he was awarded forty-five points— tying him for first place with Cedric Diggory. The third task would be on the twenty-fourth of June and apparently the champions would be told what awaited them a month before it was set to take place.

When all the cheering was said and done, the mass of people slowly started to disperse, Harry and Rose heading over to where Sirius and Ron were standing, despite Madam Pomfrey trying to pull them alongside the other champions, and those they rescued, to go get dry clothes.

Sirius was garnering some wary glances from the crowd around him but it seemed to bother him very little as he happily waved the twins over. It appeared it would take time for people to accept that the Azkaban escapee that adorned the cover of the Daily Prophet for months was never guilty to begin with.

“Way to go, Harry!” Ron shouted excitedly, pushing his way through the crowd impatiently. Harry grinned at Ron, his morose feeling quickly leaving him as he realized his choice wasn’t going to ruin his chances. “Y’know I was almost certain when you took the longest to come back that you were pulling your usual heroic card. Good thing it paid off!”

Laughing slightly, Harry gave a half-hearted shrug as his grin turned bashful.

Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder, giving him a slight shake, and then reached up to mess up his already chaotic wet hair, making it stick up every which way. “You did good, kid.” He said earnestly and gancing over at a put out looking Rose, Sirius grinned brightly. “Have a nice swim, Rosie?” He gave a loud bark-like laugh when Rose shot a glare at him, looking more like a drowned kitten in his eyes.

“Why don’t we head inside?” Ron suggested, recognizing the look on Rose’s face easily. It was the same look Ginny would get before she’d start cursing them with the Bat-Bogey Hex.

“You mind giving me a moment with these two, Ron?” Sirius requested lightly.

Ron nodded easily enough. “Sure, no problem. I’ll meet you guys in the Great Hall.”

The three watched as Ron headed for the castle, the crowds having long since thinned out, before Sirius turned back to Harry and Rose. He absently lifted his wand and waved it about— privacy wards— and Rose quickly made sure to check for any Animagus nearby as well.

There weren’t any.

With a look of consideration on his face, Sirius neatly stowed away his wand then gestured over to the various benches that had been set out for the second task. He easily swung one leg over to the other side of the nearest bench and turned to face the two of them, a relaxed expression on his face. He was dressed in Muggle clothes today, a pair of dark jeans that were ripped at the knees and a long-sleeved grey shirt that made his already grey eyes even more prominent. “You guys wanted me to keep you informed on the custody case,” he said, smiling in amusement as both Harry and Rose seemed to perk up at the topic; Harry sitting in front of Sirius quickly while Rose remained standing by his side.

“Obviously there are quite a few Purebloods who would like to have custody over you,” Sirius started slowly, glancing around absently. “Given the habit of inbreeding in Britain, the majority of them are related to you in some way— some a lot more distant than others.”

Harry’s nose crinkled up at the mention of inbreeding.

“I know Dumbledore is fighting to regain his guardianship over you, and if he were anyone else I'd say he has no chance, but Dumbledore’s known to get away with things that others simply can’t.”

Now Rose’s nose crinkled up, not liking the thought of Dumbledore having any control over her and her brother.

Sirius sighed softly. “I think it’s likely he’ll try to go the direct route, get custody over you and place you with a Pureblood family of his choosing. From what I'm hearing, he still wants you both with those good-for-nothing relatives of yours, but no way would anyone allow it now. No matter what Dumbledore says on the matter.”

The twins let out simultaneous sighs of relief at that.

“I’ve been talking with the family lawyers,” Sirius said lowly, leaning in close. “I got an ace up my sleeve that not even Dumbledore’s knows about and it’s absolute.” He grinned faintly. “My lawyer plans to let Dumbledore make his case and counter whatever he has to say— and that’ll be easy enough— and then we’ll drop our last bomb.”

Sirius certainly didn’t look worried, or even doubtful, in the slightest.

“How do you know it will work?” Harry asked quietly.

“It’s been done a few times before,” Sirius said. “And the outcome was the same each time.”

“What if Dumbledore convinces you to send us back to Privet Drive?” Rose asked firmly, a blank expression on her face.

Harry shot Rose a look, while Sirius eyed her carefully. “I promise you, Rosie, that’s never going to happen.” Rose didn’t look convinced but decided to leave the matter alone for now. She was pretty sure Harry was going to combust if she kept it up.

“Come on,” Sirius said suddenly. “I’m sure Ron’s itching for the two of you to meet him.” 

When he stood up, Sirius looked at Harry for a moment before waving his wand at him. With a rush, Harry suddenly found his clothes dry but slightly stiff. His skin still felt a bit damp though, and his robes clung to it awkwardly.

“Surprised you didn’t do that yourself, Rosie,” Sirius commented casually.

With a huff, Rose left, striding back up to the castle.

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault you got kept under the lake, Ro’!” He huffed himself when Rose didn’t reply and glanced over at Sirius, who was very poorly hiding his amusement.  “Let’s go,” Harry muttered.

Laughing out right now, Sirius slung an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll be over it by the time dinner’s over,” he said reassuringly.

Harry grinned, although it was more for the feeling of comfort he got from Sirius walking alongside him than anything else. He was well aware Rose would get over it— probably already was over it. She likely left him soaking wet as his punishment which was honestly better than a flick to the forehead.

With his spirits now soaring, Harry continued forward with his godfather, his sister just a few paces ahead, up to the castle to meet his best friends for dinner. Things were looking so good lately— being entered in a potentially life ending tournament aside.

Here’s hoping it will last.

Chapter Text

As mid-March approached, those living in London were eager to see the last of the blanket of snow that covered every available surface of the city— it would quickly be replaced by rain but better wet than wet and cold. The streets were filled with the usual hustle and bustle, wool hats on heads and mitts on hands. Gusts of winds rushed through the air, thankfully sans snowflakes.

In another part of London, hidden behind numerous wards, was Diagon Alley— and more importantly, the Ministry of Magic.

The Ministry of Magic was strangely abuzz today, or perhaps not so strangely.

Today the trial for custody over the Potter twins would take place. It wouldn’t be an open courtroom like most trials were— obviously with this one involving minors. But there was no doubt that the stands would be filled (some who didn’t bother attending trails deigning to grace them all with their presence now) with wizards and witches, each of whom wanted a say in what happened to the Twins-Who-Lived.

Marty Tuttle was one of the few lucky ones involved in the trial. He wasn’t one who got to vote, nor was he one of the guards stationed around the spacious room, no instead he would be writing down a transcript of the day's events.

The Ministry always liked having two magically charmed quills and two wizards writing out transcripts for trials in order to avoid mistakes.

Looking over at where Lord Black stood with his lawyer dressed impeccably, the two speaking in lower murmurs, Marty thought that that being a mistake the Ministry wanted to avoid was rather ironic all things considered.

Lord Black’s lack of trial was still something talked about even months after it first came to light. It was one of those things you thought would never happen until it did and the fact that it did was appalling. Marty was horrified and he didn’t even know Black before he’d been tossed into Azkaban, he couldn’t imagine how the people who called him a friend felt.

He wondered if Black even still considered them friends.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marty noticed a sudden burst of colour in the otherwise dull and dimly lit courtroom. Turning he saw, unsurprisingly, Albus Dumbledore striding in, his robes a bright fuchsia with what looked to be golden birds flapping their wings all over its surface. The door shut behind him with a thud and the sounds of locks turning could be heard.

Everyone was now here.

Marty’s gaze flickered across the room, taking in the various expressions. Only a few months ago Dumbledore’s presence would have had a good percent of them smiling in greeting, now though, only a small handful did so. Some remained blank faced or stony while others outright sneered.

There was almost no one in the Britain area who was at all happy with Albus Dumbledore these days, and the few that remained on good terms with him were the ones who were down right devoted to the man before the news dropped.

Dumbledore’s role in the Potter twins’ childhood was unbelievable and Marty was under the firm belief that the man had a lot of nerve to try and regain any form of custody over them. He was distantly worried that Dumbledore would succeed though, almost everyone knew how much Cornelius Fudge went to the man for advice and guidance.

Marty glanced over at the main stand where the man in question was seated. The Minister of Magic was a portly man who often sported a lime-green bowler hat, though today he had gone without it. He also lost the usual self-importance look and instead seemed uneasy, glancing nervously from Dumbledore to the Wizengamot members around him. 

On his left sat Amelia Bones, the woman who spear hunted this investigation. She had a broad, square-jaw with very short grey hair, her custom monocle was on her left eye, and she looked unrelenting. 

On Fudge’s right, dressed in her typical pink coloured outfit, was Delores Umbridge, likely the most unpleasant woman Marty had ever come across.

“With everyone present, let us begin,” Fudge said in a voice he probably intended to sound firm but had wavered a bit too much to pull it off. With a nod to the side a spell was cast on two quills, each of which lifted up and got ready, while Marty and his partner quickly picked up their own quills, dipping them in their ink pots.

Fudge looked down at the courtroom floor. There was a wide-open space in the centre of it with the Ministry seal stamped on it, directly in front of it was Fudge and those surrounding him, while up in the stands on either side were the Wizengamot members dressed in their plum-coloured robes. On the opposite side of the open floor from Fudge were two tables with about four feet between them, both facing the main dias where the Minister sat.

This was where Black, his lawyer, and Dumbledore sat— though the seat next to Dumbledore remained empty.

“Do both parties have their attorney's?”

Black’s lawyer stood smoothly. “Terrel Farley. I’ll be representing Lord Black.”

Dumbledore stood with a genial smile at Fudge. “I shall be representing myself, Cornelius.”

“The Minister should be addressed with his proper title in court.” Umbridge said sharply, her beady eyes narrowed at Dumbledore as she leaned forward.

Dumbledore offered a faint apology as he and Black’s Lawyer sat down.

Fudge swallowed nervously and murmured something to Umbridge that had her expression tightening but sitting back in her seat.

“Custody Case hearing of the fifteenth of March,” Fudge said, the familiar routine bringing back the firmness in his voice and Marty and his partner began writing at once. “Into the custody, both magical and non-magical, of Harry James Potter and Rose Euphemia Potter.

“Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Court Scribes; Marty Harold Tuttle and Alena Brea Stephens.”

As Marty scrawled the Minister’s words across his parchment, he didn’t look away from Fudge, his mind focusing on the one speaking. It was a comfortingly familiar action, he always made sure to look at whoever was speaking in the moment.

“Due to obvious and clear signs of abuse— physical and mental— and neglect, Harry James Potter and Rose Euphemia Potter have been permanently removed from their relative’s care. Due to their underage status, they will need a guardian for the summer holidays.

“Current Magical Guardian: Sirius Orion Black.”

Fudge’s gaze flickered between the two tables in front of him as he took a break in speaking. His face seemed to steel as he forced himself onward. “Sirius Orion Black is hereby requesting full custody— both magical and non-magical— of both Potter children. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is requesting to be reinstated as the Potter children’s Magical Guardian and wishes to place them in a new home.”

The Wizengamot members all nodded along as Fudge spoke, some frowning openly as they heard Dumbledore’s request.

“Mr. Farley, your opening statement.”

Terrel Farley was a serious looking man with dark neatly combed hair and an eerily blank expression. He was dressed in fine robes that he could easily afford due to his well-earned career.

The Black family lawyers were rather famous in Britain, with a near perfect win record.

He stood and stepped around the table, making his way forward into the open area between his client and the Wizengamot. His eyes scanned the expressions on each of their faces and a charming smile broke out on his face as he clasped his hands together in front of himself.

“My Lords and Ladys, I only want to rectify something that should have been done many years ago. James and Lily Potter named my client the godfather to both of their heirs and as such trusted him to take care of them in their demise.” He made sure to make eye contact with each of them, his words oozing charm and conviction. “If it weren’t for a blunder made by previous Ministry officials, then my client would have had custody of them well over a decade ago.

“I believe it’s obvious that Harry and Rose’s previous guardians— both magical and Muggle— have failed greatly at the task they were entrusted in. Moving forward we should be thinking of what’s best— not for any of us— but for these two children. Two orphans who have already lost enough of their childhood and deserve a chance to truly enjoy what’s left of it.”

By the end of speech, most of the Wizengamot were nodding along, some murmuring quiet agreements. Every single one of them had read the article Rose Potter released in the Daily Prophet and it was clear that the Potter twins had been robbed. Robbed of happiness; robbed of a childhood; robbed of family.

With a pleased smile, Farley nodded in respect to the Minister and Madam Bones and made his way back to his seat where his client sat with a barely concealed grin.

“Mr. Dumbledore, your opening statement.” Fudge said formally, with a faint gesture towards Dumbledore.

If the lack of any of his many titles bothered him, Dumbledore didn’t show it. Instead he stood smoothly, his hands linked together as he made his way to the centre area, nodding faintly to himself.

“I fully agree with Mr. Farley’s last statement. We need to do what is best for Harry and Rose both, even if that means putting aside our own personal feelings on the matter.” Dumbledore spoke calmly, looking over at them all from the top of his half-mooned spectacles.

“I made an egregious mistake that— at the time— I had thought to be the best course of action. Due to the sacrifice Lily Potter made for her children her blood had a strong protection on it. That protection was tied, not only to her children, but her sister as well. That made the Dursley home the safest option for the twins when the war reached an abrupt end and Voldemort's followers were left floundering.” Almost the entire room gave the customary flinch at the Dark Lords name, but Dumbledore took no apparent notice of it.

“They were young,” Dumbledore said entreatingly, his gaze trailing across everyone in the room. “And the world was still a very dangerous place with many magical beings seeking revenge. Hiding them in the Muggle world, with powerful wards encompassing them, had seemed to be the best possible choice.”

It was clear from the expressions on a lot of faces that Dumbledore’s words were beginning to sway them. His reasons logical and sound when explained.

With a deeply troubled look, Dumbledore shook his head. “I regret the choice now, especially after learning about what Harry and Rose went through. I had thought that they would be safe. That the last of their family would take care of them.

“I shall not make that same mistake. I have been their headmaster for four years now, have spoken to them both on more than one occasion, and have seen them grow. Thrive. I too, wish to save what is left of their childhood and I hope you can entrust me to do just that.”

With a similar nod of respect to Fudge, Dumbledore went back to his seat, not even glancing at the murmurs that had broken out after he was finished speaking.

Sirius frowned over at Dumbledore but did not look necessarily worried; nor did his lawyer.

“Order!” Fudge said suddenly, slamming down a gavel as the murmurs started to rise in sound. He then gestured over to Farley.

“Mr. Farley, your response.”

Farley moved back towards the centre area and eyed the crowd, lingering on the few that were beginning to be swayed by Dumbledore's words. “My Lords and Ladys, my client cares very deeply for these children. Loves them and would do anything to protect them.” He gestured back to where Sirius was sitting with an open hand. “In fact, not even the walls of Azkaban could stop him from doing whatever he could to protect Harry and Rose.”

Now that had the more sentimental of people there softening. By now everyone had heard about Sirius’s escape; what sparked it and the events that followed. How Sirius realized Peter Pettigrew was alive and close to the twins and then escaped, living off of rats and running almost constantly until he reached Hogwarts where he attempted to catch Pettigrew.

There was no doubt that the man cared for the children.

“Harry and Rose both kept in contact with my client and have been eager to get to know him more. It is obvious that they wish to live with him— in fact it was Rose Potter who was partly responsible for my client’s declaration of innocence after bringing him up as a potential guardian for her and her brother. Something that resulted in his story finally being heard by someone who would help.” Farley said meaningfully, letting that particular fact sink into them all as he made his way back to his seat.

Dumbledore was quick to stand after getting a nod from Fudge. “While Sirius’s love for the twins is very obvious, it is not him we should be thinking about here.” He reminded the crowd gently. “We all know that Azkaban has dire effects on a person’s mind and body, even with just a few months locked up. Sirius spent twelve years there and while I have no doubt he truly wants the best for Harry and Rose, perhaps that best may not be him.”

Farley stood in an instant, “Minister, if I may?” He requested firmly, his gaze flickering to Fudge then back to Dumbledore.

Fudge nodded once, while Dumbledore turned to face Farley.

Picking up a small stack of papers, Farley flicked his wand and they separated into three separate pieces, floating in plain view to the Wizengamot, Fudge and Bones. “I have here not one, but three different forms stating that my client has fully recovered from his stay in Azkaban, both mentally and physically. Each are signed off by three different Ministry approved Healers at St. Mungo’s.”

When Fudge and Bones nodded in approval at the forms Farley sent them to the small stack in front of them where any evidence they brought in was supposed to go. Feeling pleased with himself for ending this tactic of Dumbledores, Farley sat back down.

With a slight frown, Dumbledore pushed on. “Be that as it may, it’s not just about one’s health when it comes to taking care of children. Sirius has been separated from society for a great many years and should take time to reintegrate himself into it. Take time to catch up on what he has missed.” He shot Sirius a sad look as he turned back to the Wizengamot. “Children need someone who will be present. Someone who is responsible enough to care for them.”

Well, Dumbledore did have a point with that one. Sirius had been a bachelor before his days in Azkaban from what most remembered, with no plans on settling down or starting a family of his own. It is unlikely that over a decade in Azkaban would suddenly make him parent-ready.

As soon as Dumbledore had reseated, Farley stood, making his way forward with a serious expression on his face.

“I find it ironic that Mr. Dumbledore here wants to preach about the responsibilities of a caregiver.” He said sharply, spinning on one heel to look over at them all. “If you’ll look at page three of the case file—” there was a shuffle as everyone did just that, turning the pages of the files in front of them “—you’ll see just how much he failed to do that when he was Harry and Rose’s guardian.”

Farley knew exactly what they would all see written in black and white. The evidence that Madam Bones herself retrieved with the help of two St. Mungo’s Healers. A long list of previous injuries that each twin had received since being left in the care of the Dursley’s.

“Years of abuse they were forced to endure. Broken bones. Stunted growth. Lack of nutrition. Not once in the thirteen years they lived there were they offered help. Albus Dumbledore placed them with those beasts, he should have made sure to keep an eye on them.”

There were loud murmurs breaking out now as they read the list of injuries Harry and Rose received, some shooting angry glares at Dumbledore. Farley made his way back to his seat as Dumbledore stood. The headmaster did not even bother moving to the centre of the room, instead speaking from his place behind the table.

“I have admitted to making mistakes. A mistake in believing that their family would have never treated them in such a way.” He said imploringly, looking over his half-mooned spectacles at them all once again. “Which is why I would place them in a new home. A wizarding home. Perhaps the Weasleys,” he suggested.

A male voice scoffed from somewhere in the crowd. “The Weasleys can barely afford to take care of the children they have now.”

Another voice chimed in now, this one shrill and distinctly female. “And it should not be up to the Potter twins to fork over their own money in order for them to be taken care of!”

“I suggested them as Harry and Rose are both best friends with their youngest son,” Dumbledore explained easily enough. “And happen to be close with the rest of their family. I would look into other options and of course get both Harry and Rose’s opinion on the matter.”

“That still doesn’t excuse you letting two magical children be abused for years, Dumbledore,” another voice shot off, not so easily swayed by the older man’s words.

Dumbledore shook his head. “As I have said, I do regret that. I had not expected—”

“And what of your lack of action?” Madam Bones suddenly cut in, staring down at Dumbledore with a dark look in her eyes.

Her question had Dumbledore frowning in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

Chin tilting upwards, Madam Bones spoke evenly. “I was told by both Potter twins, in separate questionings, that at the end of their first year at Hogwarts they told you of the abuse.”

The crowd burst into angry mutters at this, some going as far as to shout at Dumbledore. Sirius and Farley both stared at Dumbledore in disbelief; it was one thing to be ignorant of the abuse, but it was a whole other thing to know of it and still do nothing.

“Order! Order!”

Fudge was slamming his gavel down repeatedly until, finally, the crowd fell silent.

Dumbledore stared up at Bones with a sad look. “While they told me they were unhappy at home, that their aunt and uncle did not like magic, they never mentioned any outright abuse,” he told her in a quiet voice that carried across the courtroom.

“You still should have looked into it,” she replied unrelentingly.

“I now wish I had.”

The woman stared at him with a piercing look for a few moments, unsure whether or not the man truly meant what he was saying.

When she didn’t offer any more questions, Dumbledore looked over at the uncharacteristically expressive faces of Pureblood Lords and Ladys.

“I want nothing more than to preserve what is left of Harry and Rose’s childhood; it’s all I ever wanted. To let them enjoy their youth and carefree life for as long as they can. If proper protections cannot be added to any other family’s existing wards, then I plan to let them stay at Hogwarts over the summers.” Some people sat up in the crowd at that . “I know Harry and Rose consider the castle to be their home, had asked me before if they could stay there, and I have no doubt that those who remain in the castle over the holidays would not object to their presence. Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the world, it only makes sense to keep them there now.”

Everyone knew Hogwarts was one of the safest places in the world. Its wards were impenetrable. The twin’s had remained safe while they were attending the school, it only made sense that they would remain safe over the summer there too. As Dumbledore sat down, he resisted the urge to smile as he heard the murmurs of agreements coming from the Wizengamot. Even Fudge and Bones looked comforted by the thought of the twins living in Hogwarts.

Farley stood once more, the crowd falling silent as they waited to hear what the man’s counter would be, some wondering if it would even matter. He shuffled through his notes before he found what he needed, picking it up with one hand as he glanced up.

“My Lords and Ladys,” he said with a sure voice. “While I agree that Hogwarts is one of the safest places to be in, let us be reminded that my client was able to break in with ease— and that was with Azkaban guards stationed around the building— and Peter Pettigrew would be able to manage the feat too, should he be so inclined.

“Let’s not forget that someone did enter Harry Potter’s name into the Goblet of Fire, essentially forcing him into a life-threatening tournament. All of this, under the watchful eye of Dumbledore and his staff— none of whom thought to inform the Aurors about the situation.”

He smiled faintly as people let out sounds of agreement. His gaze flickering down to the parchment in his hand, he decided to put the final nail in the coffin of Dumbledore’s attempt at custody.

“I have here,” he announced loudly, lifting the paper in his hand, “signed by James and Lily Potter and my client, notarized by Gringotts officials, a Blood Adoption.”

As gasps rang out and Dumbledore’s eyes widened, Farley sent the paper floating in front of Fudge and Bones.

“Dated for September 21st, 1980, making my client the Blood Adopted parent of Harry James Potter and Rose Euphemia Potter.”

Farley sat down next to a grinning Sirius as the shouts broke out.

“He’s their father by blood!”

“The children obviously belong with him, why are we even arguing this!”

“They should have been with him this whole time!”

Fudge shook his head, slamming his gavel down yet again as he looked away from the case changing piece of paper. “Order! Order!”

Madam Bones leaned forward to murmur quietly to him and he responded in equal volume.

After a few tense moments of silence, Fudge turned back to the crowd. “The Ministry of Magic hereby grants full custody of Harry James Potter and Rose Euphemia Potter to Sirius Orion Black; father via Blood Adoption.”

He slammed his gavel down one last time, marking it as official, and more murmurs broke out. No votes were needed, why would they be when the children's own father was asking for custody. No one, not even Dumbledore, could contest such a claim and the customary vote on trials such as this were rendered redundant in the eyes of higher magical laws.

Sirius stood with a grin, laughing slightly with disbelief. He was confident they would win, but still, to hear that the twins were his so officially… He looked over at Farley, grabbing his hand and shaking it firmly in thanks.

“Great job, Farley.” He said earnestly.

Farley shook his head. “It was no trouble, Lord Black. I figured it would be an open and shut case when you told me about the Blood Adoption.”

Sirius let out a bark-like laughter and inclined his head in agreement.

His gaze trailed over Farley’s shoulder to where Dumbledore stood, and his face turned serious. The man didn’t look particularly happy and still had shock lingering around his face; whether it was from the Blood Adoption or losing the trial, Sirius couldn’t say.

Looking back to his lawyer, he said. “I’m gonna go find Harry and Rosie.” A smile came back to his face, “I can’t wait to tell them.” Not waiting for a response, Sirius made his way to the door; he’d let his lawyer handle any of the paperwork that might be involved after the trial. He knew Farley would find him if he needed to sign anything.

After Hogwarts he’d start on his plans for their living arrangements. He’d already spoken to Gringotts on the matter a few weeks ago.

As Sirius made his way through the halls of the Ministry of Magic, he felt the slight tension that he had been carrying since that horrible night on Halloween start to loosen. Things weren’t perfect— never would be again— but they were looking up. He had Harry and Rosie and they had him.

As long as that remained true, they could handle anything.

Harry and Rose were officially Sirius’s kids— would officially be living with him over summer holidays. (And winter holidays and spring break.) Harry had been absolutely thrilled when the man came and told them after the trial. Had tackled their godfather in a crushing hug as soon as the man was finished speaking and Rose knew him well enough to know he was trying his best not to cry.

Rose was thrilled too. Although she was happier about not having to go back to the Dursley’s than anything else.

While she was starting to believe that Sirius really did want nothing but the best for them, she wasn’t quite willing to trust him completely. Not like she trusted Ron and Hermione. Or Marcus. Definitely not like Harry. But the man followed through on his promise to get custody over them and take them away from the Dursleys— so that counted for something.

After telling them about the results of the trial, Sirius told them he’d be back to get them during Spring Break to show them a surprise.

Which was why Harry and Rose were sitting in the entrance way of Hogwarts on a small bench after eating breakfast in the Great Hall. Harry’s leg was bouncing up and down rapidly as his eyes darted across the hall, his hands fidgeting restlessly in his lap. There weren’t too many people around this morning; all three schools taking advantage of the week-long break from classes and having a bit of a lie-in.

The drama from the second task had finally died down and they had slid easily into their March to April break. Of course things could never be drama free in their lives, only this time the drama was aimed at Hermione.

Skeeter had recently done an article speculating about Hermione dosing Viktor Krum with a Love Potion. Apparently, Parkinson had given her an ‘exclusive’. Since then, Hermione had received rather nasty letters— some people going so far as to attach hexes to the things.

Professor Snape was quite cross with Harry at the moment too— what else was new— and was firmly under the belief that Harry stole the Gillyweed he used in the second task from his office. He had hurled numerous insults and threats to Harry in a quiet murmur while Harry tried to start his potion until Rose had enough and cut the man off mid-sentence when he started making threats about Truth Potions.

“If you have proof my brother did just that, then speak to the headmaster.” She told the man coldly, her voice still ringing in Harry’s ears days later. “Otherwise quit wasting our time with baseless accusations; frankly, for a Slytherin, it’s unbecoming.”

Snape had looked ready to eviscerate Rose for her words but was smart enough not to attack a student— a Potter twin at that— in the middle of class. And since taking points from her would be shooting his own chance for the House Cup in the face he just snarled wordlessly and stalked back to the front of the class.

The whole thing still had Harry grinning just thinking about it.

“Ow!”

Rubbing at the spot on his forehead that Rose just flicked, Harry glanced over and saw her glaring at him with a look that said cut it out.

Harry laughed. “It was a magical moment, Ro’! Like when Hermione hit Malfoy!” He grinned as Rose’s mouth twitched into a smile and she rolled her eyes, not sparing Harry another look. When she suddenly sat straighter Harry followed her line of sight and stood abruptly.

“Sirius!”

Sirius was walking around the corner with Professor McGonagall at his side and he turned at the sound of Harry’s voice. When he spotted the twins, he grinned brightly.

“Harry! Rosie!”

With a quick parting word to Professor McGonagall, Sirius broke off from her side and made towards Harry and Rose. Professor McGonagall continued on into the Great Hall while Rose stood up beside her brother, who was now bouncing up and down on the tips of his toes. Just as Sirius reached them, Rose nudged Harry on the side, halting his partly excited, partly anxious movements.

Sirius flung his arms open in invitation and Harry didn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around their godfather tightly. Rose smiled faintly at the sight of Harry getting the affection he always craved when they were children. As Sirius pushed a hand through Harry’s hair, tousling it slightly, he opened a hand in invitation to Rose.

That was one thing she appreciated about the man. He always made sure Rose knew he was willing to include her but never pushed his affection onto her. It was always on Rose’s terms.

She was quick with her hug, letting Sirius pat her back twice before pulling back— Harry doing the same. Smiling brightly, Sirius clapped his hands together.

“Alright, let’s go!”

Harry and Rose shared a glance. “Where are we going?” Harry asked as Sirius started backing up.

The man grinned. “It’s a surprise,” he replied, jerking his head back in the direction he had come from. “Come on!” With one last glance, the twin’s shrugged simultaneously and stepped forward, following their eager Godfather.

As Sirius led them up in the direction of Professor McGonagall's office Rose idly wondered why he always seemed to use this Floo rather than the one in the headmaster's office. Perhaps this one was just closer. Perhaps he was avoiding the headmaster— it was anyone's guess really.

When they reached the heavy oak door of Professor McGonagall's office, Sirius pushed it open with ease, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the twins were still following. Rose sort of wanted to laugh at the fact that he waited this long to check and when she looked over at Harry, she could see a smile of amusement on his face as well.

“Make sure to shut the door behind you,” Sirius said suddenly as he strolled over to the fireplace. “Wouldn’t want any miscreants getting into Minnie’s things.”

Harry huffed with laughter as he pushed the door shut, making sure he heard the faint click of the latch catching. He quickly joined Sirius and Rose at the fireplace, both twins staring at Sirius as they waited for the man to do something.

Sirius wasted no time in reaching for a neatly decorated pot and grabbing a handful of its contents, shoving it back on the mantle precariously. Tossing the powder into the fire he called firmly. “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!”

As the flames surged, turning into a luminous green colour right before their eyes, Sirius gestured for the kids to go first. Rose went ahead, not as reluctant as the Floo-Accident prone Harry, and Harry followed her with a frown on his face. Swirling through the flames, Harry put all his effort into staying upright and keeping his hands tucked into his sides. When he felt himself quickly hurling in one direction, he swung his hands outwards to catch himself— managing to save himself an unceremonious face-plant by mere inches. Harry felt hands grab his arm to help him up and he scanned their surroundings as Rose dragged him away from the front of the fireplace.

They were in, what looked to be, an expensive looking house. The floors were a dark wood, and the walls were just a shade lighter with accents of gold. There were deep red velvet curtains covering what Harry assumed were windows while similar ones were tied back on either side of an archway; the hall behind that was too dark for Harry to see properly. Directly in front of him and Rose was a seating area; a large and dark couch perpendicular to a small matching settee and across from that was a dark armchair. There were pillows with golden fringes and stitching on each seating area and hanging directly above all this was a beautiful crystal chandelier.

When the fire flared once more the twins watched Sirius step on through, no hesitation or stumbling, and Harry glanced up at the golden framed mirror hanging above the mantle of the fireplace.

Sirius's eyes flickered to the rug beneath his feet and waved his wand at it, muttering an almost silent cleaning charm, before he looked to the twins. “What do you think?” He grinned; arms stretched out as he gestured to the rest of the room.

Eyes trailing across the room again, Harry noted the shelves built into the walls that had various knick-knacks upon them. There were multiple accent tables, —some with lamps resting upon them— in the middle of the couches was a coffee table and beneath that was a plush red and gold rug that looked old but expensive.

Harry thought he’d always attribute the colours red and gold as solely Gryffindor colours, but as he looked around the room, he wasn’t overly reminded of his Hogwarts House. Perhaps it was because the colours were more accents rather than the main theme, or maybe it was because of the dark coloured base underneath it all.

Honestly, Harry felt like this might be what the common room would look like if they merged Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Maybe that’s what Sirius was going for.

“What is this place?” Harry asked quietly, his gaze trailing back to Sirius.

As Sirius looked around, nodding to himself affirmatively, he told them. “This is the Black ancestral home.” Stepping away from the fireplace, he sat down on the armchair and gestured for the twins to sit as well. The two did so slowly, sitting side by side on the couch.

“Normally I wouldn’t want to stay here of all places,” Sirius said quietly as he leaned forward, forearms resting on the tops of his legs. “But the Black family has always been a paranoid bunch and this house has some of the best wards and protections surrounding it.” His eyes flickered upwards towards the ceiling, and he inclined his head to the side slightly. “It’s most likely one of the best warded private properties.”

It was almost amusing how slow it was coming to Harry and Rose what Sirius was talking about. The realization kicking in about the same time as Sirius looked back to them and said—

“I’m not willing to risk us living in a newly warded house.” He smiled minutely, his eyes darting between the two of them. “So this is where we’ll live.”

Harry and Rose looked around the room with new eyes. This is where they would be living this summer?

They turned back to Sirius when he stood suddenly. “I’ve been renovating it,” he told them, inspecting the room with a careful eye. “No one’s lived here since my crazy mother died and the house-elf that was left here didn’t bother cleaning.” A scowl was on his face as he said the last part, and he moved over towards the open archway and gestured for Harry and Rose to follow.

“So far I’ve only got this room, the bedrooms and kitchen done.” He said, flicking his wand forward and lighting up the hall on the other side of the archway.

Harry and Rose eyed the hallway warily. It was dark, barely lit by the lanterns that hung evenly spaced on the walls. The walls themselves were dark as well, similar to the ones in the other room except these walls had layers of dirt and grime upon them, making them look dingy. The floor was carpet and had a design so faded and covered in dust that it could hardly be seen.

Rose grabbed Harry’s hand and the two followed behind Sirius, the man’s pace slow and even as he let them scan their surroundings.

“I’m going to have the rest of it finished before you two are done your fourth year,” he promised.

He turned right and headed down a short flight of stairs and then he turned left where the hall led straight to one dark door. Flicking his wand again, the lanterns above their heads lit up, but they hardly made the view better, only shining light on their decrepit surroundings.

“This is the kitchen,” Sirius said as he pushed open the door to reveal a long set of stairs heading downward. He descended the steps quickly and with ease, it had the familiarity of someone who did it a thousand times before. Apparently there were some habits not even decades away or time in Azkaban could erase.

The room was very similar to the first room they arrived in. The walls a neat black and floor a dark wood with gold accents throughout the room.

Not far in front of the door they entered from was a countertop that came out a few feet from the wall with three black gleaming stools on their side of the counter. Where the counter met the wall, it moved on further into the room before it met the spot where a dark stove stood. The counter continued on the other side before it reached the corner and made a right, stretching outwards along another wall. About two feet from the corner there was a silver sink built into the surface and the counter went on until it met the edge of a fridge. The counter tops were made of a pale grey marble with bits of black and the cupboards surrounding them were black with gold handles and hinges.

To the right of all this was a large table with numerous chairs surrounding it and hanging above the centre of it was a much simpler looking chandelier, no crystals or ostentatious decorations in sight.

At the far end was an open archway and the twins could see shelves stocked with food on the walls inside of it and at the opposite side of the archway was a small door, neither one of them knew what was behind that one but it reminded them both of their cupboard back at Privet Drive.

“We’ll probably use this room more for eating,” Sirius told them, not interrupting when they examined the room. At their confusion he explained, “There is an incomplete formal dining room upstairs that is usually used with guests.”

Well, that made sense. While this room was far from informal, it didn’t exactly scream money like Rose figured most Pureblood dining rooms would. Not to mention the fact that the table was in direct line of sight of the kitchen; it probably wasn’t good host etiquette to make guests watch their food be prepared.

“Come on, I’ll show you your rooms.”

Harry and Rose followed Sirius out of the room, feeling a bit dazed at the prospect of having a room here.

They made their way back up the stairs and through the unrenovated halls, passing the same room they arrived in. “That’s the parlour,” Sirius told them as he gestured to it, flicking his wand in another direction as he lit more lamps.

When they got to another set of stairs, Harry and Rose looked upward. They could see the railings of the stairs snaking up high in a square like shape but could not tell how many floors this house had just from looking. It seemed endless though.

“There’s an informal parlour on the floor between the kitchen and the main Parlour,” Sirius told them over his shoulder. “It’s usually used when guests come over by using the front door.”

Rose was already sorting this in her mind, trying to familiarize herself with the massive house. Sure it didn’t seem to be a large house in terms of length, but from what she had seen so far, its height was beyond that of a normal house.

Basement with kitchen and an informal dining area; main floor with an informal parlour; first floor with a main parlour.

“Keep your voice down when we pass the next floor,” Sirius muttered to the two of them, walking on careful footsteps.

Harry and Rose both followed suit with ease as they got on the second-floor landing, glancing down the hall in one direction. All they could see was a moth ridden, old velvet curtain hanging on the wall and mounds of dust and cobwebs. They continued to follow Sirius directly up the next flight of stairs, their steps somewhat of a pattern by now.

Up. Up. Up. Turn right. Step. Step. Turn right. Up. Up. Up. Turn right. Up. Up. Turn right. Up. Up. Up. Turn right. Step. Step.

On and on it went and as they moved Sirius offered tidbits of where everything was. The floor they had to be quiet on had the formal dining room and a seating room that was typically used for drinks with business associates. The floor after that had a master study and the library.

“Well, we know where Ro’ will be this summer,” Harry murmured, getting a jab in the back in response, much to his amusement.

After the floor with the library was the one with the family living room— Rose was beyond curious what else was on each of these floors as she knew it couldn’t just be one room per floor. She got the feeling Sirius was just informing them of the main room on each floor, which was understandable. He was still renovating so perhaps he planned to change some of the rooms too. At last, they reached—

“And here’s your rooms!” Sirius said happily as they stopped on another landing, his arms stretching out in a grand manner.

Directly to their right was yet another set of staircases going upward but other than that the small hall was fairly empty. So far none of the halls looked to be completed, this one just as grimy as all the others, but at each end of it were two beautifully designed double doors. They were painted a dark black and had elaborate gold trims along the top with matching gold doorknobs.

Sirius wandered over to one door. “This floor used to be mine and my brothers,” he told them over his shoulder, placing his hands on the handles of the door. “This room was mine and the other one was Reggie's.” He pushed open the doors, letting them swing open, and beckoned Harry and Rose over.

“This one’ll be yours, Harry.”

The room was beyond nice, done in neutral tones— for now most likely. The walls were bare except for the occasional light and in the centre of the room was yet another crystal chandelier. At the centre of the wall opposite of the door was a large bed with dark covers and fluffy pillows and a beautifully crafted headboard. On either side of the bed were matching end tables with lanterns on both of them and at the foot was a small settee that matched the bedding. Directly across from the door was a large empty bookshelf and perpendicular to that was a dresser.

As Sirius moved further into the room the twins trailed behind him, eyeing the room with faintly mixed feelings.

There was shelving on the wall across from the dresser with a desk directly below it and two notches that looked to be spaced out enough to carry a broom. (That had Harry grinning.) Still, there was something that had them both holding back from loving the room completely.

“This is the best part,” Sirius said, bringing Harry and Rose’s attention to him.

It was only when they turned to their godfather that they realized the wall that had the door on it was oddly blank on the entirety of the right side.

Sirius was grinning brightly, his eyes practically twinkling. “I had the goblins who helped tune up the wards set this up.” He ran his hand along the wall for a moment, quietly adding. “I know the two of you have a hard time being separated at school, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t here— but could still have privacy if either of you wanted it.”

As Sirius closed his eyes for a brief second, the twins watched in awe as half the wall seemed to shimmer then disappeared altogether. The area that was revealed was small, not as wide as the rest of the room, and had a small seating area right in the middle of it with two single doors against the right wall opposite of the hallway. A large circle rug was in the middle with designs of black and gold and a small couch reached the end of it while two armchairs were either side of the edges facing the centre. There were two comfy looking bean bag chairs across from the couch and directly in the middle of all this was a small but wide coffee table shaped like a hexagon. It was a cozy looking area, but it was what they could see directly across from them that caught their attention.

“This is Rosie’s room,” Sirius told them in a pleased tone of voice, already making his way past the seating area— Harry and Rose following behind slowly. “Those are the bathrooms,” Sirius added on as they passed by the two doors and went into the adjoining room.

Rose’s room was an almost exact mirror of Harry’s. The bed against the centre of the wall opposite of the door and when the two glanced back towards Harry’s room they could see about half of his bed as well. Unlike Harry’s though, Rose did not have an area for a broom to hang but did have extra shelving that would come in handy for the books she had.

Sirius cleared his throat, bringing the twins’ attention back to him. He placed a hand on the wall between the door and the seating area. “You just gotta imagine the wall disappearing and reappearing to get rid of it or bring it back,” he instructed quietly. “If there’s someone in both rooms then the other person has to accept the… call before it will work.”

Harry frowned. “So, if Rose wants to put the wall back I gotta do it at the same time?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, just to bring the wall down. Like I said I wanted you to have privacy if and when either of you wanted it, so if one of you wants to put the wall up you can at any time.” He explained proceeding to do just that in example. “Bringing it down is something I figured you should both get a say in, in case someone happens to be changing or has a friend over.” He gave an easy shrug. Sirius knew they had the same friends for the most part but the twins were getting older and were bound to want some privacy eventually. Especially when puberty hit— if it hadn’t already.

Merlin, Sirius mentally reminded himself to read up on the topic so he didn’t sound stupid should they have any questions.

Harry and Rose scanned the room one more time and caught each other’s eyes in the process. Harry grinned happily while Rose smiled lightly, rolling her eyes fondly at her brother’s excitement.

Now they loved the room.

“So… can we just add whatever else we want to the rooms?” Harry asked slowly, looking at Sirius.

The man nodded easily enough. “Absolutely, and if you want a specific colour scheme just let me know, I’ll make some changes.” His eyes flickered around the room, and he laughed lightly. “I didn’t want to assume what colours you wanted just because of your Houses at Hogwarts.”

Harry laughed at that. “I would like some red in my room actually and Rose will probably want some green, though not too much.” Rose shot Harry a look that only had him shrugging and saying, “You know I’m right.”

Rolling her eyes, Rose made a vague motion with her hand that had Harry nodding straight away. “Yeah, can we get a place to put Hedwig’s cage?”

Sirius tilted his head, his mind wondering how Rose’s motion translated to that, but pushed it out of his mind for now. He’d figure out how to communicate with her more easily this summer. “There’s an Owlery in the backyard,” he assured the two of them. “I’ll have it ready by summer. I’m sure Hedwig would prefer something more outdoorsy than being cooped in the room.”

Both twins smiled happily. One thing that always had them feeling guilty was the fact that Hedwig was forced to be cooped up in her cage for the vast majority of the summer. It would be nice to be able to let her fly as she pleased.

“My room is on the floor above this one and the attic is above that, other than that… that’s the whole house.” Sirius said, then waved his hand in a so-so motion. “Plus or minus a couple rooms. I’m still trying to figure out what to do with some of them.” He pursed his lips, frowning in thought for a moment and then shook his head— that could wait till later.

Looking back at Harry and Rose, Sirius smiled fondly, he could hardly believe this was happening— after all these years. Stepping forward, Sirius placed a hand on the back of both their heads and spoke softly, his gaze trailing back and forth between their identical green eyes. “Things are far from perfect, likely never will be, but this is our fresh start. The three of us, this house, our lives...” Sirius’s mouth pulled into a frown for a brief moment and his thumbs moved back and forth soothingly on their heads. “I can’t fix everything— or erase anything— but I promise I'll do whatever I can to keep you both happy and healthy.”

The twin’s stared at him in silence neither knowing what to say. Harry hoped this worked out, hoped with every fibre of his being that this would be the start of something better, while Rose tried desperately to keep the hope brewing in her chest at a bare minimum.

Sirius smiled, understanding completely how the two of them were feeling. He had felt the same way when Mrs. Potter promised him that he’d always have a place with their family, and promised to take care of him no matter what.

See, that was the thing about growing up with a terrible family, if they screwed you over— multiple times at that— it was hard to believe anyone wouldn’t do the same. If your own flesh and blood could do that to you; why couldn’t anyone else?

Sirius pulled back, stopping briefly to pat each of their cheeks, and then clapped his hands together, dispelling the heavy atmosphere at once.

“Alright, we have one more stop before I take you both back to school,” Sirius said to them while pulling out a pocket watch from inside his robes. He glanced at the time and nodded to himself; it’d been about an hour since he picked them up, that left plenty of time for the rest of their afternoon. Grinning at Harry and Rose, he gestured to the door with his head. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Sirius pulled open the doors to Rose’s bedroom and the three of them made their way back down the endless staircase in what would be their new home. Harry and Rose both had a sense of dread at the amount of climbing they’d have to do over the summer as well.

It was a fair trade they supposed. Anything was better than the Dursleys.

It was when they got down to the third floor— the one Sirius had warned them to stay quiet on— that they ran into trouble. As they climbed downward, Harry tripped suddenly over his own feet; thankfully he managed to catch himself before he injured himself, but he let out a loud noise of surprise and made a big thud on the floor as he caught himself.

“Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers—”

“Bloody hell,” Sirius muttered under his breath while the twins stared wide eyed at the portrait that just revealed itself from behind the velvet curtains. It was an eerily realistic portrait, one of an old woman who was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed, and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits awoke and began to yell too. The twins clapped their hands over their ears and Sirius began to shout back.

“Shut up! Shut up!” He strode forward swiftly, and the woman’s eyes locked on him.

“You!” She howled, her eyes popping at the sight of Sirius. “Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!”

Sirius grabbed hold of the curtain. “I said— shut— up!” With a vicious yank the curtains slammed shut— and neither of them thought it was possible to slam curtains but here they were.

As the hall plunged back into silence, Sirius turned around and offered a smile that was more of a grimace. “Well, now the two of you have met my mother,” he said dryly.

“Your—” Harry cut himself off as he glanced at his sister. Rose was frowning in distaste at the curtains that hid the unpleasant woman, and her eyes met his for a second.

That woman could easily give Petunia Dursley a run for her money.

Sirius shook his head, stepping forward and bustling them along down the staircase. “I’m still working out how to get rid of her,” he told the two of them. “She really went above and beyond to make sure her portrait wouldn't come down. I’ll have to get the goblins to take a look.”

Sirius didn’t expand on the insult that she hurled out at them— at him more importantly— and neither twin asked. Harry and Rose knew far better than most that explaining why a family member hated you was far from pleasant. Apparently Sirius had more in common with them than they thought.

While Rose knew Sirius had been the black sheep of the family, her talk with Marcus last year still lingering on her mind, she hadn’t realised the extent to which Sirius’s family despised him. She wondered if it had been the whole family or just his mother.

Harry and Rose trailed behind their godfather silently, both lost in their own thoughts, until they were suddenly standing in front of the fireplace in the main parlour once more. Grabbing a handful of powder from a gleaming black pot on the mantle, Sirius shot them a small smile and tossed it into the fire.

“St. Mungo’s!”

Both their eyebrows raised at the location. They had heard about St. Mungo’s by now, even met two Healers that worked there, but neither of them had ever been. It left them feeling slightly anxious that Sirius was taking them there and they could do nothing but mechanically follow Sirius’s instructions to head on through.

They had arrived in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. The room was filled with random noises as well; one wizard’s head was ringing like a bell tower anytime he moved it so much as an inch while a pale witch let out loud hiccups every few minutes, bubbles coming out of her mouth each time she did so.

Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards. Harry noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

Harry leaned closer to Rose. “They’re doctors?”

“They’re called Healers in the magical world,” Rose offered quietly, her eyes sharp as she scanned the room.

A hand dropped heavily on each of their shoulders and Sirius ushered them to the side where a large desk stood with multiple people behind it.

Harry nervously flattened his bangs over his scar while Rose looked down to keep hers from being too obvious. Neither one of them wanted to be spotted here off all places— their attempts were rather redundant though as Sirius was about as recognisable as the both of them.

A woman with rather large hair and pink framed glasses looked up as they approached and smiled. “How can I help you, dears?”

Sirius grinned charmingly.  “I have an appointment with Healer Burnes.”

The woman glanced down at the desk, moving a few items around, and nodded. “Yes, of course.” She smiled lightly at Sirius and raised a hand, waving at someone off to the side. Another witch dressed in the lime-green robes everyone else was wearing appeared at their side at once, her eyes on the woman behind the desk.

“Take Mr. Black and his children to Examination Room D.” She instructed evenly.

Harry and Rose both startled at being so casually referred to as Sirius’s kids, but the man himself didn’t even blink. He murmured a quiet word to them to follow along and the three of them trailed behind the straight-backed witch leading the way.

The twin’s glanced in any open doorways along the way, some rooms filled with hospital beds, others just packed with supplies. The only sounds they heard however were their own muted footsteps and the clacking of the witch's high heels on the stone floor.

She eventually stopped at an open doorway, turning around with a smile and gesturing for them to head on in. As the three of them passed by her into the room, she cheerfully said. “Healer Burnes will be right with you.”

Her clacking footsteps went unheard as she left back down the hall and both Harry and Rose couldn’t hide their surprise and confusion as they watched her disappear from view.

“There’s silencing wards on every room in St. Mungo’s,” Sirius offered quietly an amused smile on his face. “No one can hear what’s happening inside the rooms and no one can hear the noise coming from the halls.”

Harry pursed his lips in thought. “What happens if someone hurts someone or something?”

Sirius crossed his arms lightly. “Doesn’t happen that often, but if it did there are charms around the entirety of St. Mungo’s that alert someone when anyone is hurt and hasn’t been helped yet— other than in the waiting room that is.”

Huh.

Harry glanced at his sister and could tell from the look on her face that she’d be researching this entire topic eventually, a faraway look in her eyes as she thought up more queries about St. Mungo’s.

The room they were in was plain and small. There were two chairs against one wall in clear view of the hallway and a cot against the wall opposite of them. There were similar dividers that were in the Medical Wing at Hogwarts next to the bed, but it was adjacent to another wall, unneeded at the moment. To the right of the doorway they entered through was a shelving unit and Harry could see various potions inside as well as gauzes and other items he didn’t know the names of but vaguely recognized. The walls had various posters dictating random health advice with what they must’ve thought were catchy slogans.

Sirius moved to sit down while Rose moved towards the wall across from them to read the posters. Harry hesitated for a moment before moving to sit by Sirius, his hands fidgeting in his lap and his foot tapping quickly. He watched his sister scan the room, her posture relaxed and calm. He’d almost believe her ease if it weren’t for the way her thumb and index finger were rapidly tapping against one another.

All three of them turned suddenly when someone walked in the door.

Unlike the Healers they saw in the waiting room, this one was dressed in white robes but had the same emblem on them; a wand and bone, crossed. He had short greying hair that was receding up his head and a friendly looking face, there were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and glasses perched on his nose.

“Mr. Black?”

Sirius stood, reaching out to shake the Healer's hand.

The Healer offered him a polite smile. “I’m Healer Burnes, I’ll be looking over Harry and Rose.”

By now Rose had moved back to Harry’s side, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly. Neither of them liked doctors that much, not that they ever really saw one besides Madam Pomfrey. Most of their anxiety likely came from what this visit would reveal— why they felt anxious about that when two Healers already came to check just that weeks ago was beyond them.

“You wanna give them a little explanation about things?” Sirius asked, eyeing Harry and Rose’s nervously clasped hands.

Healer Burnes nodded easily enough and gave them a calming smile. “I’m just going to do a thorough scan,” he told the two. “Unlike the one the Healers did on you before Mr. Black’s trial, this one will give us an insight to any lasting damage. Whatever it reveals will let us know where to go from here.”

Harry and Rose nodded slowly trying to push any negative feelings to the back of their mind. They have faced the Dark Lord multiple times by now, a simple check-up shouldn’t have them so out of sorts.

“Alright,” Burnes said, moving over towards the bed, grabbing a clipboard that had been hanging on the wall by the door as he went. “Who should we start with?”

After exchanging a quick look with one another, Harry stepped forward. “I guess I’ll go first.”

Burnes nodded, gesturing for Harry to sit on the bed. Sirius moved to stand beside Rose as the two watched Harry awkwardly climb onto the bed, eyeing Burnes with a slightly wary expression. Sirius startled when he suddenly felt pressure on his hand and his eyes flickered downward to where Rose had grabbed hold of his right hand. He didn’t draw any more attention to the action, a warm sensation deep in his chest at the thought of Rose feeling comfortable enough with him to seek him out for even a small form of comfort; he squeezed her hand once in reassurance.

“Alright, Harry,” Burnes said after writing something down on his clipboard. “This will feel slightly unusual, but I promise you it will not hurt.” Without further ado Burnes waved his wand over Harry and a shimmery glow seemed to erupt from his wand, moving from the top of Harry’s head, down to his feet and back again.

Burnes’s hand remained on the wand, holding it upright, while the quill he had put down on his clipboard suddenly lifted and began to write something down. The man nodded to himself as he read what was now on his clipboard, the shimmery glow still moving up and down Harry.

It was about ten minutes later that the glow finally disappeared, and Burnes gave Harry an encouraging smile. “That’s it.”

Harry frowned. “Really? That’s it?”

Burnes gave a small laugh. “Yes. It’s a fairly non-invasive procedure.” He looked over at Sirius and Rose, unclasping a paper from his clipboard and tucking it under the other one. “Now, we’ll do Rose.”

Harry jumped off of the bed, smiling at his sister softly. Rose didn’t let any of her nerves show, moving to the space Harry just vacated, her expression neutral.

“Alright, Rose,” Burnes said, lifting his wand. “We’ll do the same thing we did with Harry.”

When Rose nodded, he casted the spell and they all waited silently once more, Harry yet again nervously tapping his foot. As soon as the glow disappeared Rose jumped down, moving to stand by Harry, while Burnes scanned his paper. He caught Sirius’s eye and turned to face them, tucking his wand out of view as he leaned back on the bed.

Sirius silently gestured for the twins to sit, and he stepped forward, absently aware of Harry and Rose following his instructions.

“First things first,” Burnes started off evenly. “Neither of them have had any immunizations— magical or Muggle— so we’re going to want to start that straight away. The Dragon Pox vaccination is the most important one as if they do get it there will be nothing to be done for them.”

Sirius nodded at once. “We’re doing that today?”

Burnes nodded. “Yes, we’ll get all of them over with, the Dragon Pox vaccine will be the last one. It will be the hardest and will give them a very strong burning sensation throughout their body and we won’t be able to give them anything for it as potions tend to react badly with it.”

Frowning but nodding in agreement, Sirius asked. “Okay, what else?”

Burnes’ eyes flickered to where Harry and Rose were watching the two silently, hands still clasped. “They’re both malnourished; not as bad as it could have been likely due to their attending Hogwarts the vast majority of the year, but it’s still worrisome.” He frowned in thought as he tapped idly against the back of the clipboard in his hand. “Oddly enough Harry’s left arm is significantly less malnourished than the rest of him, though it is still a bit worrying.”

Sirius’s brows lifted in surprise, glancing back at Harry who looked slightly sheepish.

“I had all the bones in that arm vanished in my second year,” he offered quietly. “Then they were regrown.”

Sirius looked like he wanted more of an explanation but put that matter aside for now, turning back to the Healer.

“We’ll give them nutrition potions which they should take every morning.” He regarded the twins in silence for a moment then firmly said. “You’ll want to take them with food, otherwise you’ll feel terribly sick.”

He got two silent nods of agreement.

“There are numerous injuries that did not heal to the best of their ability, likely due to the malnourishment, so we’ll give them two different potions to help with that. They can take them before they go to bed as they will make them drowsy.”

Waving his wand faintly, Burnes duplicated the papers in front of him, the original disappearing after a few seconds while he handed the copies to Sirius. “We’ll do the immunizations now and I’ll give you a month's supply of their potions for both of them.”

“Alright,” Sirius said slowly, his eyes scanning the report and tightening around the corners as he read the full extent of the twins’ treatment and the repercussions of it.

Burnes moved to the compartment filled with potions and such, placing the clipboard back on the wall with practiced ease before doing so, and began to remove items. As he worked, he said. “They can both take a seat on the bed, and I’ll do them both at once.”

After the twins received all the potions and needles they were supposed to get— and boy, Burnes was not kidding when he said the Dragon Pox one was a doozy, though Sirius felt an angry sensation in the back of his mind as both twins took it without a flinch— they were given two boxes of potions and sent out into the hall. Or— Harry and Rose were sent out into the hall, both holding their box of potions in hand.

Sirius was held back by Burnes, who had a serious look on his face.

“I do suggest getting them both in to see a Mind Healer,” he told the man quietly. “They seem fine on the outside but given the extent of their abuse it would be best if they talked to a professional.”

Honestly, Sirius had already been thinking about it. Talking to a Mind Healer had done wonders for his mental health after he was declared innocent, and he still spoke to someone to this day. He knew the twins were rather well functioning all things considered— too well functioning at times— but he knew that talking to someone would definitely be needed.

“Rosie doesn’t really talk though,” Sirius said slowly, already trying to think about how to get around that.

Burnes inclined his head; he had heard such rumours. “The therapy doesn’t have to start right away,” he informed him hesitantly. “And, given their attachment to one another, perhaps it would be best to start off with joint sessions. Hopefully by the time they have solo sessions Rose will be comfortable with whomever they are talking to.”

Burnes handed Sirius a card with a business location on it and he took it with no hesitation. He shook the Healer's hand, thanking him quietly for his time. He wouldn’t mention it to either twin yet, no use of making them stress over it until summer arrived, but he would bring it up when they came home. His mind was already whirring, thinking of what he could say, how he could word it so they wouldn’t be resistant to the idea.

When Sirius stepped into the hall Harry and Rose looked up at him from where they were leaning against the wall. He smiled fondly and gestured down the hall. “Time to head back to school.”

The two fell into step with him easily enough, Harry’s hands fidgeting restlessly on the sides of his box, glancing around them nervously. Ever since Skeeter had started posting articles of private conversations, he was feeling paranoid about anyone overhearing them. Rose noticed his expression and moved her box to one hand, waving the other over his box fingers moving faintly.

“Concealment Charm,” she said quietly when Harry looked at her in confusion and he let out a sigh of relief watching as she did the same to her box.

The rest of the journey back to Hogwarts was quiet, Sirius not wanting to push either twin into talking after their eventful day and Harry and Rose not having anything they really wanted to say. Soon enough they were back inside Professor McGonagall's office, boxes in hand, and Sirius was telling them to be good. He made a promise to come to the third task, jokingly saying he and Rose could stress out together.

Harry had laughed while Rose had just rolled her eyes; she hadn’t been able to completely mask her smile of amusement though.

The twins then set off, both wanting to put away their potions before they went to meet their friends. They would tell Ron and Hermione all about the house but both had no plans to mention the visit to St. Mungo’s.

The two had already been in a tizzy over their past home life after Rose’s article came out and neither twin wanted to spark that up again.

“Meet you in the library?” Harry asked when they reached one of the regular spots they’d split off from each other at. Rose rolled her eyes and walked off and Harry laughed, understanding the silent ‘well duh’ his sister was saying.

Before they knew it summer was set to arrive and while usually this meant that Harry would be preparing for the Quidditch Cup this time he was getting ready for the third task.

At the end of May, he and the other champions had been led down to where the Quidditch pitch had once stood only to find what looked like a miniature maze in the process of growing. He and Cedric had been properly horrified at the sight of it. They had been instructed on what the task would entail and who would be going in first, second and so on.

It was what happened after that that quickly swept away any nerves of the final task or indignation at the sight of the pitch. Krum had pulled Harry aside wanting to talk about Hermione— asking if he and her were involved in anyway— only for their conversation to be interrupted by—

Mr. Crouch?

The man looked terrible and had obviously been in a bad way, speaking in babbles most of the time but in his clear moments talking about the Dark Lord. Harry didn’t waste any time, rushing off to find Professor Dumbledore— and it had been days since the incident and he still cursed Snape in his mind for wasting his time— and the headmaster had been properly worried, giving quiet instructions to Moody.

After Harry had been sent off, he had hurriedly gone to find his sister, Ron, and Hermione telling them all about what had happened. He made an absent note to tell Sirius the next time he saw him in person as Dumbledore warned him about sending off any letters at the moment.

To make things even more tense, a few days after this incident Harry and Rose had been off sitting in a small alcove shrouded in silencing spells and minor deterring wards when their scars suddenly burst with pain. They had been leaning against the wall quietly murmuring to one another in tired voices when suddenly they were somewhere else.

It had been a lot like the dream they had at the beginning of summer when they felt as though they were seeing through the Dark Lord’s eyes.

The two had suddenly awoken, their twin screams still echoing off the walls around them and their scars bloody. They had pushed themselves upright immediately turning to the other to make sure they were alright. When Harry and Rose fully absorbed what had happened the former had dragged the latter to a stand, pulling her in the direction of Dumbledore’s office.

Honestly, Rose would have rather went to Sirius— or McGonagall— or someone else, but she supposed it was for the best... for now.

They learnt quite a bit during their visit in Dumbledore’s office— most importantly, about the Lestrange’s, Crouch Jr. and the Longbottom's. Harry had felt beyond guilty about his lack of awareness, or really acknowledgment, of the fact that Neville had been raised by his grandmother. He wasn’t sure why it never occurred to him that the other Gryffindor didn’t have his parents around...

Rose had comfortingly told him that it was likely Neville didn’t want anyone to talk about it anymore than they did. Being an orphan wasn’t exactly a conversation start— quite the opposite in fact, and there was nothing more uncomfortable or irritating than dealing with the pity or hollowed words of apology by people who couldn’t possibly understand their situation.

Their mood remained tense as they slid out of May and into June. The rest of Hogwarts was brimming with excitement and before they knew it the day of the third task had arrived. Harry had been practicing spells constantly with his sister, Ron, and Hermione determined to memorize as many as possible.

When the twenty-fourth of June arrived, Harry had made his way to breakfast, forcing himself to eat his fill as he spoke quietly with Ron and Hermione. The latter of the two was still determined to figure out how Skeeter was getting her scoops— the latest headline something she couldn’t possibly know. Hermione seemed to have suddenly gotten an idea but she didn’t elaborate to either of them as she took off from the table leaving Harry and Ron staring after her.

“Oi!” Ron called after her. “We’ve got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Blimey,” he said, turning back to Harry, “she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What’re you going to do in Binns’ class— read again?”

Exempt from the end-of-term tests as a Triwizard champion, Harry had been sitting in the back of every exam class so far, looking up fresh hexes for the third task.

“S’pose so,” Harry said to Ron; but just then, Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward him.

“Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the hall after breakfast,” she said.

“But the task’s not till tonight!” Harry cried, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time.

“I’m aware of that, Potter,” she said. “The champions’ families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them.”

“Sirius is here?” Harry asked dumbly, garnering a part impatient and part indulgent look from the woman as she turned and walked away.

Ron looked over at Harry. “Mate, you’re so lucky you just get to hang out with Sirius.” Before Harry could offer a response Rose appeared behind Ron’s shoulder, flicking the redhead’s ear in greeting. “Ow !”

Rolling her eyes, she hadn’t flicked his ear that hard, Rose eyed the empty seat next to them and raised a brow in question. Harry shrugged. “Hermione’s on a warpath for Skeeter. She seemed to get some kind of break through and took off.”

Rose nodded slowly, not bothering with any more questions on the topic and shooting Ron a look.

“Yeah, we should get going,” Ron agreed. “We’ll see you after the exams, alright, Harry?”

Harry gave an absent nod, quietly wishing the two luck as he watched them go, Ron already murmuring the information he studied to himself, once in a while glancing at Rose and grinning when she nodded in agreement to what he was saying.

Shovelling the rest of his food into his mouth, Harry eyed the soon-to-be empty Great Hall, watching as the other three champions made their way out into the hall. He stood up with a goblet of juice still in hand and drained it, quickly hurrying after the lot.

Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. He had inherited his father’s hooked nose. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother. Fleur’s little sister, Gabrielle, was holding her mother’s hand. She waved at Harry, who waved back, grinning. Then he saw Sirius standing in front of the fireplace and next to him were the beaming forms of Mrs. Weasley and Bill.

“Surprise!” Mrs. Weasley cried as he walked over to them. “Thought we’d come and watch you, Harry!” She told him excitedly as she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Sirius was quick to tug him over, wrapping him in a tight hug that Harry eagerly returned. “Figured you’d like more familiar faces in the crowd,” he murmured in his ear.

When he pulled back Harry beamed at his godfather and looked over at the two Weasleys.

“Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn’t get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail.” Bill told him happily as he shook Harry’s hand.

Fleur Delacour, Harry noticed, was eyeing Bill with great interest over her mother’s shoulder. Harry could tell she had no objection whatsoever to long hair or earrings with fangs on them as Mrs. Weasley often did.

“How long till Rosie’s exam is done?” Sirius asked Harry as he eyed the other people in the room.

Harry tilted his head in thought. “It’s Ro’ so she’ll probably be done before everyone else. I’d say give her an hour or so.”

“How’s she doing with Ancient Runes?” Bill asked suddenly, interested in hearing about it after talking to the girl over the summer. She wasn’t one for making conversation but the few moments she had Bill could tell she knew her stuff— not only knew it but loved it.

Grinning happily, Harry said. “Great! She’s really loving it and she’s been getting, like, great marks on all her assignments!”

Bill chuckled at Harry’s enthusiasm. “That’s good. You think she’s gonna pursue the topic after she graduates?”

“Uh,” Harry hesitated, thinking it over. “It’s hard to say with Ro’ honestly. She loves researching... Well, everything. Who knows if she’ll discover a new topic that interests her more.” He lifted his shoulders half-heartedly, not bothered by the lack of knowledge about what his sister wanted to pursue. Harry knew she’d choose something that made her the happiest and he was fine with that.

Mrs. Weasley asked Harry to give them a tour around which he was happy to do. After a slightly awkward encounter with Cedric’s father— the man was upset that Harry was apparently stealing Cedric’s ‘thunder’— Harry led the two Weasleys and his godfather around. 

He took them to the grounds to show them Durmstrang’s ship and Beauxbatons carriage, they made idle conversation with Hagrid and discussed Percy and Crouch briefly. Then they made their way back up to the castle for lunch.

The Great Hall was still mostly empty when they arrived, but Harry was unsurprised to see—

“Rosie!”

Rose glanced up from her spot at the Slytherin table and smiled lightly when she saw Sirius waving at her enthusiastically, pushing herself to a stand at once she made her way over to the group.

“Rose, dear! How are you?” Mrs. Weasley asked happily once she reached them, giving her a tight hug in greeting.

Her reply was a slightly awkward thumbs up that had Harry laughing quietly.

Bill gave Rose a nod, grinning as Rose nodded back with a serious expression. She was far from the easy-going person her brother could be but from what Bill had seen, Harry too had his moments of seriousness.

He had been shocked when Rita Skeeter's interview with Rose had come out— had been sitting in the kitchen with his mother when the paper had come in. His mother had raged for hours, cursing the Dursley’s and talking about how she suspected they were no good.

Bill had been shocked, mainly for the fact that neither twin seemed particularly cowed in any way, shape, or form. Sure, Rose barely spoke but she still had a sense of... strength even with her self-chosen vow of silence. There was nothing in the choice that made her seem weak in any way and Bill didn’t think anyone with a clue would try and suggest otherwise.

He listened absently as Sirius asked Rose about her exam and school, the man not even halting in his stream of words when he received wordless replies. 

Bill knew his mother was worried about Sirius being the twins’ guardian. He wasn’t sure if it had to do with the residual fear of Sirius being a mass murderer— however untrue that turned out to be— or if it was just something about the man himself. Bill was sure if his mother could have her way then the twins would have been living with them.

He also knew his father was guiltily relieved that had not wound up being the case. Not to say he didn’t care about the twins, not at all, it was just money was tight enough without adding two more mouths to feed.

No way his father would have even entertained the idea of letting the twins buy things for the family, he would have made due on his own no matter how many more hours he’d have to work.

Regardless, from what little Bill had seen he thought Sirius was a great parent for the kids. He had come to the Burrow just last week to ask them if they’d like to join him at Hogwarts in a few days' time, explaining that the champions' families were invited to watch the third task and that he knew Harry would love to see them.

To say his mother had been thrilled at the invite would be an understatement.

When they arrived he spoke avidly about both twins, regaling them with details about his house that he had been renovating to be ready by summer for Harry and Rose to move in. Honestly, it was the way he spoke of them that had Bill convinced the two were in good hands. He spoke like a proud parent, talking about even the smallest of things like it was the most impressive thing around.

His mother was reluctantly pleased with what she had seen— though Bill knew she tried not to show it.

Now, watching both twins with Sirius, he could tell that they admired the man greatly— perhaps even loved him. It was easier to see with Harry, the boy looking at Sirius with a beaming smile and stars in his eyes, but he could tell Rose felt the same, however much she attempted to conceal it. (He also knew that if he could see it then Sirius, the man who grew up surrounded by Purebloods who masked their feelings constantly, could see it too)

Considering Sirius was likely the first person to offer the two an escape from what appeared to be a hellish life with their relatives, it was no wonder they looked up to the man like they did. Sirius’s first priority was clearly these kids and while Rose seemed reluctant to fully believe that right now, Bill had no doubt that by the end of summer she’d care about Sirius just as much as Harry already did.

“—Bill! What’re you doing here?”

Bill mentally shook himself out of his pensive thoughts and turning his head he saw his brother sitting down at the Gryffindor table, eyeing his mother and him. (He didn’t remember sitting down but there they were.) Sirius was still speaking with the twin’s next to him while his mother asked Ron about his exam.

He grinned at Ron’s response while his mother frowned sternly.

The group enjoyed the rest of their lunch together before the kids had to leave for more exams and Harry led the three of them around Hogwarts idly. Sirius filled any silences with stories of his time at Hogwarts; Bill and his mother quickly joined in when they realized what he was doing.

As time went on Harry seemed to get more and more quiet, nerves settling in. By the time the evening feast arrived he was anxiously running a hand through his hair and immediately flattening his bangs over his scar after that.

Rose was waiting at the Gryffindor table— an uncommon occurrence if the faces of those around her had anything to say— and talking quietly with Fred and George. Bill was mildly surprised to hear them discussing Potion theories when they got closer. He shouldn’t have been. Bill knew the twins had to be at least more than skilled at potions and charms in order to create the things they created.

The trio fell silent when they reached them, Rose giving Harry a long look before silently urging him to sit next to her.

There were more courses than usual and the Weasleys watched in amusement as Rose forced Harry eat at least half a plate. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes’ time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now.”

Chapter Text

Harry got up when the third task was announced, the other champions doing the same where they were sitting; his hand was still clasped in Rose's and he squeezed it tightly. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him; Sirius grabbed his other hand, giving him a soft look while the Weasleys and Hermione all wished him good luck, and he headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.

Rose watched the doorway with a frown, her fingers tapping together restlessly. Sirius reached over to grab her hand now, simultaneously halting the nervous action as well as offering her a bit of comfort. She clutched his hand tightly, her mind racing as she thought over everything that could go wrong. They still haven’t figured out who put Harry’s name in the Goblet and why.

“Come on, Rosie,” Sirius said quietly. “They’re letting the families go get their seats first.”

Glancing around she saw a few people heading out already and she stood slowly, following Sirius’s lead. She was starting to feel like her head had been stuffed with cotton, the world going fuzzy and quiet as she walked down to the Quidditch pitch.

Normally she’d make this trek with a book in hand, not interested in the game but wanting to support her brother no matter what.

She had yet to let go of Sirius’s hand and she wondered if she was hurting him as she glanced down and noticed the tips of his fingers were red. She couldn’t bring herself to loosen her grip though and Sirius didn’t try to stop her either. The stands around them slowly but surely filled, people eager to watch the third and finally task of the tournament. There was a buzz of excited whispers floating through the air and Rose suddenly felt a hand grab her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Glancing to her right she watched as Ron made himself comfortable, giving her a look of understanding, his face pale and his freckles standing out.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ludo Bagman’s voice suddenly rang out to the stands. “The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each— Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!” The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. “In second place, with eighty points— Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!” More applause. “And in third place— Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!”

Rose could barely hear herself think over the roar of the rest of the audience. She didn’t bother trying to cover her ears, not willing to release her grip on Sirius’s hand in order to do that. She could see Harry, looking small and tiny, waving up at them. She raised a hand and gave a half-hearted wave, feeling oddly mechanical.

There was a short blast of a whistle, and Harry and Cedric took off into the maze.

Things started to blur after that, the wait long— tedious— endless.

Red sparks. Fleur was brought back.

Red sparks. Krum was brought back.

“Folks, the two Champions just reached the centre of the maze!” Bagman called out suddenly. “It’ll be a race to the cup!”

The air seemed to fill with anticipation and Bagman kept his eye on the spot in front of him, his hand high in the air. After a beat he faltered, hand lowering slowly as he looked to the side. Voice no longer amplified; Rose watched as he spoke quietly to someone on the side.

Dumbledore stepped forward and the two exchanged whispers while the crowd slowly started to murmur to one another, sensing something was wrong.

There was more movement as a few people headed into the maze, wands ready and faces serious. Rose kept her eyes on the spot Bagman had been watching, willing Harry to show now. There was a brief moment, that Rose resolutely refused to think more on, when her scar grew sharp with stinging pain that felt foreboding. It wasn’t until about twenty minutes later— the crowd a low bustle of constant noise by now and the sky a dark inky colour— that something did happen.

Two figures suddenly landed in the empty spot, one clutching the cup and the other’s lifeless figure.

It was those closest to the pitch that let out their screams first, the crowd roaring to life once more. Sirius stood suddenly, pulling Rose up with him while everyone else around them did the same. Rose could see Dumbledore turn Harry over before Sirius tugged her through the mass of people surrounding them.

Everyone hadn’t stopped making noise since their voices grew above the murmur it was but Rose had been unable to understand a word they were saying— until now. Now she could hear it, the words repeating around her like an echo.

“Diggory’s dead! He’s dead!”

A few people bumped into Rose from behind and her grip on Sirius slipped. The crowd around her continued to move and she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out which direction she should go in. She pushed on forward, no particular way in mind, just wanting to get out of the crowd. The sobs of a few girls reached her ears as well as the screams of others.

Glancing around her quickly, she suddenly noticed a familiar figure walking into the entrance way of Hogwarts.

Harry.

Her view was obscured yet again by more people, and she determinedly pushed herself through them, trying to get to an open space. When she finally managed it, taking a deep, much needed breath as soon as she did, she immediately looked towards Hogwarts. The entrance way was empty, but she remembered clearly who had been with her brother. 

Moody.

Rose’s gaze flickered around her and quickly stopped when she spotted another familiar figure. Rushing forward she crossed the distance between them and grabbed his hand, tugging him now towards the school.

“Rosie?”

Rose ignored Sirius as she pulled him away from the crowds and chaos. The two crossed the grounds quickly, Sirius not stopping Rose despite his confusion.

“Rosie, where are we going?”

The only reply he received was a pointed hand.

“Did you see Harry?”

Rose nodded as the two ascended the steps into the entrance way and crossed the empty area, their footsteps echoing around them. She knew exactly where to go, turning and heading straight for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Sirius matching her stride easily enough. They were just approaching the door when voices could be heard, their words just clear enough to be made out.

“–wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid’s cabin.”

It was not a voice either of them recognized and it had a frown coming upon both their faces. Sirius knew the room they were coming up to, it was the office for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor— only he knew that wasn’t Moody’s voice.

They heard Dumbledore’s voice now, prompting the man to continue speaking.

“I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner,” whispered the voice and Rose quietly pushed the door open. “Turned it into a Portkey. My master’s plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honoured by him beyond the dreams of wizards.”

The man had an insane smile on his face and Rose recognized him at once, having seen his face in the Pensieve in Dumbledore’s office.

Barty Crouch Jr.

She noticed Winky at his side, the small elf sobbing and wailing as she clung to his robes. Professor McGonagall at Harry’s side and Snape standing over the form of another figure that had to be the real Alastor Moody.

Rose ignored all this, stepping forward and leaving Sirius still standing in the doorway as she rushed to Harry’s side. She ran a hand through his hair, half in comfort, half in worry and couldn’t help but notice that his scar was a bright red. It was only when she took note of this did she acknowledge her own scar throbbing with pain—she spared a brief thought to wonder whether hers was as bright as his.

“Ro’,” Harry’s voice rang out in a broken whisper and Rose ignored everyone else in the room, cupping Harry’s face in her hands and making him look at her. She squeezed his face tightly, beyond relieved that he had come back alive, and gave him the tiniest of nods.

Harry closed his eyes and nodded back.

Glancing over her shoulder, hands falling from Harry’s face but one moving to his shoulder, Rose noticed Crouch Jr. now tied up and Dumbledore at a stand.

“Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry upstairs?”

Rose stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. The Medical Wing was down another floor, where was he trying to take her brother?

“No.”

The three professors turn at the sounds of Sirius' voice. He had been staring in disbelief at the sight of Barty Crouch Jr. but seemed to shake himself out of it— just in time, Rose thought to herself.

“Sirius—” Dumbledore started.

“No.” Sirius repeated, giving Dumbledore an unrelenting look. “Harry’s injured, he’s going to the Medical Wing.” He moved towards the chair Harry was sitting in, briskly nudging the shocked form of Professor McGonagall aside. “Let’s go, Harry. Get his other side, Rosie.”

His words were unneeded as Rose had already started to lift Harry out of the chair, the two of them guiding him into the hall past the frozen people around them. Still, Dumbledore was never one to be contested and he followed them into the hall.

“Sirius.” He said sharply, leaving Professor McGonagall and Snape in the room with the tied-up imposter, unconscious Moody, and still crying house-elf. “I need to speak with Harry.”

“You can,” Sirius said easily enough. “After Madam Pomfrey gives him a look.”

Dumbledore swiftly caught up to them, and it took everything in Rose’s power now to grab her wand for a semblance of ease. “Sirius, Voldemort is back. Harry personally witnessed—”

Sirius turned at once, still holding onto Harry gently. Rose murmured soothing words quietly into her brother's ear as she watched their godfather glare at Dumbledore, quietly noting the still figure of Professor McGonagall in the doorway behind them. “I assure you, Albus, I understand the importance of what happened tonight, but I promise you your need for answers isn’t more important than the fact that Harry is in pain right now. Has been in pain since he got back and you had your little show back there.” He thrusted a hand towards the office they were just in and Professor McGonagall physically flinched as though he struck her, a guilty look coming onto her face. “Now. We are going to the Medical Wing, if you have a problem with that, you can take it up with any number of the Ministry officials crawling around this place.”

Without another word, Sirius gently urged the twins forward leaving behind a worried Professor McGonagall and displeased Dumbledore.

Madam Pomfrey was in a right state as she looked over Harry. His leg was apparently broken— as were some ribs— he had a long cut on his left forearm and apparently had been put under the Cruciatus Curse.

It didn’t take long for Dumbledore to come to the Medical Wing— Snape trailing behind him with the limp form of Moody. The only positive note from the headmaster's visit was that while he was questioning Harry about what had happened— Harry's voice bleak and weary as he spoke— Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix, had joined them, healing Harry’s injuries with his tears in a matter of seconds.

Rose had clutched Harry’s hand securely between two of her own as he spoke, tightening them when he spoke of their parents showing up. She could see a look of grief overtake Sirius’s face as Harry retold this part.

Dumbledore eventually left and Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a dreamless potion that quickly pulled him under. Mrs. Weasley and Bill joined Rose and Sirius around Harry’s bedside not long after that; Mrs. Weasley tried to convince Rose to go get some rest, but the young girl remained stubbornly at her brother’s side and the woman didn’t push the matter. Not long after they arrived, Ron and Hermione did too, both watching Harry with sad eyes.

It didn’t take long for the rising voice to suddenly reach their ears.

“They’ll wake him if they don’t shut up!” Bill whispered irritably, his gaze flickering between Harry and the door.

“What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?” Mrs. Weasley wondered worriedly; her eyes locked on the door.

Rose could see Harry’s eyes open slowly and she quickly reached for his glasses, putting them on his face with practiced ease.

“That’s Fudge’s voice,” Mrs. Weasley whispered suddenly, sharing a look with Sirius. “And that’s Minerva McGonagall’s, isn’t it? But what are they arguing about?”

Rose leaned forward suddenly, going close to Harry’s ear to whisper into it. “If the Minister asks you about it, leave out the Dark Lord.” She said swiftly, too close to get a look at his expression. “Tell him the cup was a Portkey, Pettigrew was there, Cedric was killed.”

When she pulled back, she saw the confusion on her brother’s face, but he still nodded in agreement. Her eyes flickered to the side and Rose noticed Sirius watching the two of them with a questioning look.

“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva—” Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly from out in the hall.

“You should never have brought it inside the castle!” Professor McGonagall shouted. “When Dumbledore finds out—”

The Medical Wing doors bursted open, and Rose moved to a stand, not feeling at all secure if she was sitting down. Bill pulled the screens shut about halfway while Harry sat up.

Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.

“Where’s Dumbledore?” Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley. Sirius stood at his borderline aggressive tone and Fudge took note of him, giving him a nod of respect. At least Fudge still had enough sense not to be rude to a family Lord.

“He’s not here,” Mrs. Weasley retorted angrily. “This is a hospital wing, Minister, don’t you think you’d do better to—”

But the door opened and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

“What has happened?” Dumbledore asked sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. “Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I’m surprised at you— I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch—”

“There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!”

Rose had to work hard to contain her shock, she had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. The usual poised woman had angry blotches of colour in her cheeks and her hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.

“When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight’s events,” Snape said, in a low voice, “he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch—”

“I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!” Professor McGonagall fumed. “I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but—”

Fudge had given Crouch the Dementors Kiss.

Harry and Rose shared a shocked look, while they knew Sirius had an order to be Kissed, they had long since presumed it was to cover up his lack of trial. To think the Minister ordered one on Crouch, who hadn’t even gotten a trial, was baffling.

As the adults continued to bicker, Professor McGonagall angrily relaying what happened, the twin’s listened on in silence. At last Dumbledore gave the reason behind Crouch’s actions.

“Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Those people’s deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.”

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore.

“You-Know-Who... returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore...”

“As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you,” Dumbledore continued on undeterred, “we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort— learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins— went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return.”

“See here, Dumbledore,” Fudge said, and the twins were astonished to see a slight smile dawning on his face, “you— you can’t seriously believe that. You-Know-Who— back? Come now, come now... certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who’s orders— but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore...”

“When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort,” Dumbledore said steadily. “He witnessed Lord Voldemort’s rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office.”

“He what?” Fudge said, a smile of disbelief still on his face. “What exactly did he say— I would like to hear it from the boy himself.”

Dumbledore glanced around at Harry and saw that he was awake, but shook his head and said, “I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight.”

Fudge’s expression fell, the smile finally clearing off his face. “Need I remind you, Dumbledore, you are no longer the boy’s primary caregiver. That title was stripped from you after the abysmal job you did with it.” Without another word he turned to Sirius. “Lord Black, what does your heir have to say about this?”

Rose lifted a brow at that. She had wondered for a brief moment if the man would try to call Harry a liar, but he appeared to be taking a different route with this. Which one, Rose was unsure. Sirius looked to Harry, who stared up at him with a world-weary expression. Harry’s gaze moved to Fudge, and he shook his head slowly.

“We thought it was a Portkey— we thought we’d come back— Cedric— Pettigrew showed up—” Harry spoke in broken fragments, his words barely forming sentences. He shook his head again and looked down at the blanket, feeling a horribly clawing feeling deep in his chest and his eyes began to sting.

“The boy is clearly in shock.” Fudge said once he realized Harry wasn’t going to say anymore. “To take advantage of his shock to spin some— some tail!”

Ah, so that’s what he was doing; making Dumbledore seem like the liar, a liar who was taking advantage of a horrible situation and a traumatized Harry. It made more sense that way. Harry and Rose were quite the crowd favourite at the moment, two horribly abused orphans abandoned to the Muggle world. Fudge would hardly want to start a war of political favour with them.

Dumbledore frowned. “He is tired. You disturb his rest by bringing this horrible act right to his bedside.” His eyes were blazing as he stared at Fudge. “You cannot ignore the truth, Cornelius.”

“The truth?” Fudge repeated incredulously. “I see no proof in front of me. I see you spinning some tail, determined to put an end to the thirteen years of peace we’ve had, by claiming You-Know-Who had returned!”

“You fool!” Professor McGonagall cried. “Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!”

“I see no evidence to the contrary!” Fudge shouted, now matching her anger, his face purpling.

“Voldemort has returned,” Dumbledore repeated. “If you accept that fact straightaway, Cornelius, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors—”

“Preposterous!” Fudge shouted again. “Remove the dementors? I’d be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!”

“The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort’s most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!” Dumbledore said. “They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!”

Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage.

“The second step you must take— and at once,” Dumbledore pressed on, “is to send envoys to the giants.”

“Envoys to the giants?” Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again. “What madness is this?”

“Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late,” Dumbledore powered on, “or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!”

“You— you cannot be serious!” Fudge gasped, shaking his head and retreating further from Dumbledore. “If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants— people hate them, Dumbledore— end of my career—”

“You are blinded,” Dumbledore said, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, “by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a Pureblood family as old as any— and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now— take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act— and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!”

“Insane,” Fudge whispered, still backing away. “Mad...”

And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry’s bed, her hands over her mouth. Rose and Sirius on either side of Harry, the former pushing at Harry’s shoulder to get him to lay down again. Mrs. Weasley was still standing in front of Bill, Ron, and Hermione, all four of them staring at Fudge.

“If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said, “we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I— I shall act as I see fit.”

Dumbledore’s voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand.

“Now, see here, Dumbledore,” he said, waving a threatening finger. “I’ve given you free rein, always. I’ve had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I’ve kept quiet. There aren’t many who’d have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you’re going to work against me—”

“The only one against whom I intend to work,” Dumbledore said, “is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side.”

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, “He can’t be back, Dumbledore, he just can’t be...”

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

“There,” Snape spat harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly Mark on Snape’s arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, “I don’t know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry.”

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the ward, and stopped at Harry’s bed.

“Your winnings, heir Potter” he said quietly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry’s bedside table. “One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances...”

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group around Harry’s bed.

“There is work to be done,” he said. “Molly... am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?”

“Of course you can,” Mrs. Weasley said at once. She was white to the lips, but she looked resolute. “We know what Fudge is. It’s Arthur’s fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride.”

“Then I need to send a message to Arthur,” Dumbledore said softly. “All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as short-sighted as Cornelius.”

“I’ll go to Dad,” Bill offered, standing up. “I’ll go now.”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said. “Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry—”

“Leave it to me,” Bill said.

He clapped a hand on Harry’s ankle, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly from the room.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore said, turning to Professor McGonagall, “I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also— if she will consent to come— Madame Maxime.”

Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word.

“Poppy,” Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey, “would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody’s office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us.”

“Very— very well,” Madam Pomfrey said, looking startled, and she too left.

Dumbledore lapsed into a contemplative silence, and only when Madam Pomfrey’s footsteps had died away, did he speak again. "Sirius...”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sirius said before Dumbledore could relay any orders to him. He had a hand holding Harry’s and was standing firmly, not looking away from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore frowned minutely. “Sirius, you understand the timely manner we must act in.”

Sirius shook his head. “I do. But just because things need to be done in a timely manner doesn’t mean I'm going to leave Harry and Rosie when they need me. I can guess what you want me to do,” Sirius said lowly, his gaze flickering to Mrs. Weasley. “I don’t see you asking Molly to leave her kids to do your bidding nor do I expect you to ask me to.”

Snape scoffed, glaring at Sirius. “These two are hardly children to be coddled.”

“They’re kids,” Sirius refuted evenly. “I am their guardian, and I would not be so irresponsible as to leave them on their own. Especially not now of all times.”

“I’m sure we can arrange for Harry and Rose to stay with their relatives for a brief period,” Dumbledore suggested calmly. At the looks of outrage the others aimed at him, he went on. “Of course, we will make sure that they are being properly cared for and have someone step in if that fails to happen. With the Blood Wards still around the house it is by far the safest place for them.”

Harry and Rose couldn’t help but feel the growing sense of dread and fear that creeped through them at Dumbledore’s words. The man had spoked so calmly that the suggestion sounded like an obvious choice. For a split second they thought Sirius might agree— there was a war to prepare for after all—

“No.”

Sirius said the word flatly, leaving no room for arguments. Rose saw Mrs. Weasley glance at him, looking torn between listening to Dumbledore’s suggestion and backing up Sirius about not sending the twins back to the Dursleys.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said at last, not offering anymore comment and turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... if you are prepared...”

“I am,” Snape said. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

“Then good luck,” Dumbledore said, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly out of the room.

It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again.

“I must go downstairs,” he said finally. “I must see the Diggory’s. I will see all of you later.”

Harry slumped back into his pillow as the room plunged back into silence, closing his eyes tiredly. He felt more than saw something being brought to his mouth and opening his eyes he saw Sirius holding a potion bottle.

It was the dreamless potion, half of its contents already gone. Harry didn’t protest to taking it, draining the rest of it, and handing the vial to Sirius. He closed his eyes again and felt Rose— and he knew it was his sister— run a hand through his hair.

She never caught tangles when she did that, he thought to himself. Harry always did whenever he pushed a hand through his hair in frustration or exhaustion but when Rose did her hands seemed to slide through the strands with ease.

Between one thought and the next Harry fell asleep, still quietly musing to himself— thinking of anything other than what happened that evening.

Hogwarts was still and somber.

Everyone imagined this tournament ending with cheers and celebrations— clearly ignoring the warning of the high death toll of the event— but instead it was the opposite. There were still people crying here and there while others remained in outright shock.

The Hufflepuffs were a quiet group, even more so than usual. The missing spot of Cedric Diggory was painfully obvious, especially in the Great Hall.

Harry avoided the crowds, choosing to eat in the kitchens with his sister, Ron, and Hermione rather than in the Great Hall, wanting to avoid the stares of his peers.

The Slytherins were a tense bunch as well, although for an entirely opposite reason. News quickly spread about the Dark Lord’s return and a great deal of them seemed unsure what to do. The majority of Slytherin quickly fell into line under Rose’s rule— however distant and uninterested it was— but now that the Dark Lord was back, they weren’t sure where to go from here.

Did they still listen to her? Was it even a choice? It’s not like the Dark Lord could waltz into the school to control things and as of right now Potter was holding the most cards in Slytherin.

At the moment Rose was sitting in her customary seat by the fireplace with a book open in her lap. She absently wished Marcus was still around, the boy was always good at keeping her company without expecting answers from her. Not to say Adrian ever wanted answers from her, it was just that he was more of a silent type too and didn’t fill in the blank spaces of conversation as easily as Marcus had.

Speaking of—

Rose didn’t bother glancing up as Adrian and Graham joined her, both moving slowly as they took their seats. She didn’t offer any greeting either; she knew what they wanted to discuss.

“The Dark Lord is back,” Adrian said at last, his voice even and quiet.

He didn’t get a response beyond a chin jut of recognition.

“What are you going to do?”

Rose stilled, and she felt a cold smile creep onto her face as she looked up at the two older Slytherins. Neither glanced away from her— something she had to give them credit for.

“What are you going to do?” She asked in turn, watching them carefully, a smile still on her face.

As one they pushed their shoulders back, sitting straighter in their seats. “I’m with you on this,” Adrian said firmly, meeting her stare head one, Graham doing the same as the older boy gestured to him as well. “We’re with you on this. Whatever you choose.”

Tilting her head in consideration, Rose eyed the two boys for a moment. She didn’t trust them, not completely at least, and while she did consider them close friends, Slytherin’s were a self-serving bunch before all else. Still, Rose wasn’t blind enough not to be able to understand the weight of what they were saying. Their parents sided with the Dark Lord, had since the First War, and for them to say they were siding with someone else was... momentous.

Especially when you added the fact that she was one of the infamous Twins-Who-Lived.

Glancing over their shoulders she noticed some students leaving the common room. The Leaving Feast would be starting soon, and it was sure to be a somber or dramatic affair. Perhaps both. Rose knew there was no chance Dumbledore wouldn’t make some kind of speech regarding the Dark Lord, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from telling the students.

Looking back to Adrian and Graham, she let her smile soften lightly and stood. Grabbing her bag, she walked forward until she was in front of them, scanning their patient expressions intently.

“Next year should be eventful,” was all she offered in the end, her smile turning into a smirk as she walked past them towards the entrance way. Her trunk was already shrunken in her pocket, and she wanted to catch Harry before he went to the Great Hall so she could get his as well.

She was a bit nervous for any press related trouble. While she was confident she had Skeeter in her pocket— the woman’s Animagus form still being held over her head— she was hardly the only reporter the Prophet had. Rose was relying on Fudge’s obsession with pleasing powerful figures— something she knew Sirius was.

The Blacks were a powerful family, and it hadn’t been nearly enough years since they backed out of political play for people to forget their sway. As Adrian informed her, just the threat of the family lawyers was enough to cow most people, never mind the more underhanded and deceitful ploys they had in the ready.

Rose had hoped it was the former that would keep her and Harry’s name out of the Daily Prophet in the near future.

There was a reason she had Harry hold back from bringing up the Dark Lord at all. She knew Fudge had been a post-war Minister and had heavily relied on being a peaceful leader; there was next to no chance he’d accept a brewing war.

It had been unfortunately beneficial that Harry had been through something traumatic and Dumbledore, in his usual commandeering way, did most of the talking for him. It gave off the impression of someone taking advantage of a precarious situation and manipulating it in order to meet his own ends.

Rose had the feeling that if she hadn’t come forward about the Dursleys treatment of them then Fudge would have already begun a smear campaign against them.

It wouldn’t work so well for him now. The Ministry— and more importantly the Minister— publicly slandering the two poor orphans who were abused. The same two orphans who saved the wizarding world.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes just thinking that last thought but still.

She spared a thought as to whether things would have gone as smoothly if Sirius hadn’t been declared innocent. Rose doubted it. Dumbledore would have still been their guardian— or at the very least weaselled his way back into the position— and he most definitely would have sent them back to Privet Drive.

Not much Sirius would have been able to do then, not with a Kiss-On-Sight order hanging over his head.

No use dwelling on all that she supposed. For now, she’d have to focus on the future, focus on how to keep her and her brother out of a war led by two men who seemed determined to involve them.

There would be no convincing Dumbledore otherwise, and Rose had no intention of trying. In her experience it’s those who felt they were doing the right thing that were the most impossible to sway. Especially if it was someone who had been held in high regard for far too long and that power had most certainly gone to their head.

It was the more deceitful and darker beings that could be swayed— or at the very least, coerced.

Rose had a few ideas on her mind at the moment, nothing too concrete, to try and convince the Dark Lord to leave them out of it. She wasn’t sure how well it would work considering most things she heard about the man didn’t depict a reasonable being. Not anymore at least.

She’d think more on it at Grimmauld place, she decided as she walked into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning house’s colours for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers’ table. Rose knew instantly that they were there as a mark of respect to Cedric Diggory.

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him. Not that anyone could blame him; Moody’s fear of attack was bound to have been increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Karkaroff’s chair was empty. Rose thought back to what Harry told her about his interaction with Voldemort— he gave her far more details when they were alone— and wondered where Karkaroff was now, and whether the Dark Lord had caught up with him.

Madame Maxime was still there. She was sitting next to Hagrid, and they were talking quietly together. Further along the table, sitting next to Professor McGonagall, was Snape. His eyes flickered to her for a moment, his expression was difficult to read, no surprise. He looked as sour and unpleasant as ever and when he looked away Rose pondered over Dumbledore’s orders for him.

Snape was a spy. Rose had no doubt about that— the memories in the Pensieve in Dumbledore’s office proved as much— the question was though, who was he a spy for?

She wondered if the Dark Lord would believe Snape was on his side. He certainly hadn’t looked for the man, not while he was working a rather comfy job as a professor. She had no doubt that Snape would have an excuse ready though, probably spent years preparing it, and if he was half the Slytherin he made himself out to be he’d have the Dark Lord buying it too.

Rose would have to hand him that one, if he succeeded. If he managed to slide back into his old position within the Death Eaters— inner circle member, Marcus said— then he’d have secured himself a good ending no matter who won.

She startled slightly when someone put a hand on her arm.

Turning around she was faced with Hermione’s concerned face. She gave the girl a small smile in greeting, glancing over her shoulder to where Harry and Ron were approaching.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked quietly.

Rose gave her friend an odd look and nodded slowly. She raised her brows in question and for once, Hermione understood exactly what she was trying to say.

“I’m fine, Ro’” Hermione promised with a smile.

Nodding once, Rose stepped around Hermione to approach her brother. He looked tired, dark bags under his eyes as he dragged his trunk behind him. She was glad they were going with Sirius, couldn’t imagine having to return to the Dursleys with Harry already feeling so terrible.

Harry greeted her with a half-hearted smile as he slid his trunk towards her. With a quick wave of her hand, Rose shrunk the trunk, tucking it into her pocket with ease. Hermione and Ron’s eyes went wide— the former looking like she wanted to start asking questions while the latter looked ready to curse. Rose hadn’t displayed her wandless magic to them yet, and had been keeping it up her sleeve for the time being.

Sometimes the best defence was being perceived as no threat at all. Better to be underestimated than have people over assuming your skills.

Rose grabbed Harry’s hand, squeezing it once and waiting until he returned it, before making her way to the Slytherin table without another word.

Adrian and Graham sat with her today, the younger boy speaking his observations quietly to them both. Apparently quite a few Slytherins were torn on how to feel. Some were glad the Dark Lord was back as it would mean he’d continue fighting the Pureblood cause, fighting for their customs. On the other hand, the Dark Lord had been known as unstable in his later years, torturing people just for the sake of torturing and giving the Mark to people when they were still in their late teens.

No matter the cause they fought for, no one wanted to be branded by a madman, especially one who threw lives away at a moment's whim.

He hadn’t always been that way though, and Rose really wanted to know what caused him to change from a charismatic leader to a tyrant who ruled by fear. They always spoke of how the Dark Arts changed people but surely it wasn’t that bad.

“Here we go,” Adrian muttered suddenly, and Rose glanced up just in time to see Dumbledore stand.

“The end of another year,” Dumbledore said, looking over them all.

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the hall.

“There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight,” Dumbledore began, “but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory.”

Rose stood with the rest of the hall, her fingertips lingering at the top of her glass before lifting it up. There was an echoed murmur through the crowd, low and rumbling, “Cedric Diggory.”

Cedric had been well liked, no doubt about it. Hufflepuffs were a friendly bunch most of the time and he had personally been skilled at Quidditch, a Prefect and was an overall helpful person. There weren’t many, even in Slytherin, that had anything bad to say about him. Sure they weren’t friends by any means, but he was an alright enough guy.

They all took a seat, and Rose noticed Harry’s gaze on Cho Chang.

Rose knew her brother had liked the girl well enough, and had even tried asking her to the dance, but realistically she didn’t see that relationship ever going anywhere; not now anyways. Harry would always associate Cho with Cedric, the girl he lost to the boy and Cho would associate Harry with Cedric as well, the boy who was with the one she loved(?) last. They were now tied together, unmistakably, but they were tied together by tragedy. The first thing either one of them would think of when seeing each other would be Cedric; a ghost forever haunting the two of them.

They wouldn’t be able to form any kind of relationship out of that— not a healthy one at least.

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

Rose glanced back at Dumbledore. She had been vaguely listening as he gave a quiet eulogy but hadn’t really been focusing until he told the hall what had happened to him. There were now panicked whispers, though the Slytherins were more for the sake of appearing shocked rather than any actual feeling of it. Their parents had been Floo calling all of them the past few days. Word had spread like wildfire, and it only made sense for Purebloods to warn their heirs.

From the looks of it, the greater population of the hall didn’t want to believe Dumbledore. They listened on in disbelief as he explained that the Ministry did not want him to tell them all. He was good at swaying people, Rose already knew this, but fear was a difficult feeling to tamper with. You never know how someone will react in the face of it.

Her eyes trailed down the table and she saw Malfoy muttering something to his two thugs.

A part of her couldn’t wait to see how the boy turned out. She had heard about how the Dark Lord treated his followers; had heard from Harry about what he did to Lucius Malfoy in the graveyard. Draco Malfoy always spoke and acted like he was above everyone and clearly expected the others to do the same. She also knew his father likely wanted him to follow in his footsteps of serving the Dark Lord.

There was no possible way that protected and coddled little Malfoy would be able to hold up on the pressures he would soon be put under. That boy rarely fought— ran first and foremost— and she knew, just like she knew Harry’s first instinct would always be to fight, that the boy would crack under the pressure.

Little Malfoy thought he had it made, that he had life in the bag; he was in for a rude awakening.

“There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric’s death,” Dumbledore went on. “I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.”

Of course. Of course, the old man had to mention her brother by name. Rose could feel a few eyes glancing at her, but she kept her eyes on Dumbledore. It made sense for him to do this. Harry hadn’t explicitly said the Dark Lord was back to anyone but Dumbledore, her, and Sirius. The man would want to make sure he wasn’t the only one facing public backlash.

Perhaps he was relying on the same thing Rose was. Reluctance to slander a known abused child.

Dumbledore went on to explain Harry’s action at the end of the third task, but Rose tuned it out. In her mind she was already thinking over what to do about this. She had asked Harry not to talk about what happened that night beyond what he originally told the Minister.

Portkey. Pettigrew. Cedric.

He would be able to get away with it, not answering questions. Trauma did a lot to people. He didn’t speak of what their relatives did to them— Rose had done that— so why would he speak of this.

Dumbledore led a goblet raise to Harry this time, most of the Great Hall following suit, standing once again. Rose did not. (Something the Slytherins around her noticed and followed suit, some likely grateful for the excuse.) Instead, she eyed the headmaster, wishing she could see what webs he was spinning in his mind now.

She’d make sure to burn every one that had her or her brother's name on it.

Dumbledore went on to give his side of things. Talking of the Dark Lord’s return, preaching friendship and trust to them all— visiting schools included. She had to admit, he knew how to seize an opportunity when it presented itself. He made quick work of tying the memory of Cedric Diggory to fighting for what was good and right.

The man was hardly a slouch in creating child soldiers. He knew exactly what buttons to press— had been doing so long before she was born.

Finger circling the rim of her goblet, Rose thought over her summer plans. She needed to speak with Rita first, needed to give her a nudge in the direction of the right story. Hermione had pieced together that the woman was an Animagus, but she hadn’t been able to prove it. Skeeter had made sure to steer clear of her and her brother at Rose’s warning and as such hadn’t been around Hermione too often either. Rose also knew Hermione wouldn’t want to start firing shots until she proved it right herself, which benefited Rose greatly as it meant Skeeter was still on the board up for play.

This summer would be filled with planning and, if she did things just right, the following year should be eventful.

For the first time in their life, Harry and Rose were happy to see a figure waiting for them as they returned from school.

After the feast they had boarded the horseless carriages to head to Hogsmeade. Harry had brief conversations with Fleur and Krum— the latter also talking to Hermione for a moment.

Ron finally caved and asked Krum for his autograph, much to their amusement.

Hermione ranted on the train ride home that she was certain Skeeter's Animagus form was a beetle, but she hadn’t spotted her anywhere. The topic had come up as Harry scanned the Daily Prophet and saw no news about what had happened to Cedric. He speculated that Fudge was keeping them quiet on the matter.

Malfoy obviously had to make his customary visit, verbally taunting Harry about what was in store now that the Dark Lord was back. The only thing that kept Rose from cursing the little ferret was the knowledge that his world was about to get much darker. She didn’t understand how he seemed to think the Dark Lord returning would mean daisies for him, but she got a great deal of amusement imagining the look on his face the first time the man put him in his place.

Malfoy was one of the dregs in the Dark Lord's army, bottom of the food chain.

The boy had been interrupted in his taunts when Harry, Ron, and the Weasley twins— having appeared out of nowhere— hexed them. The combination of spells left Malfoy and his cronies mildly disfigured, and the group left them in the hall.

At the sight of the Weasley twins Rose had been quick to whisper in Harry’s ear.

“I know what you can do with the money,” she said quietly.

Harry had looked at her in faint surprise while Fred and George made themselves comfortable, setting up a game of Exploding Snap for them all; Hermione and Ron quick to help.

Rose knew Harry had tried to get rid of the money, his guilt surrounding the incident too strong for him to even imagine keeping it. He had attempted to give it to the Diggory’s when he spoke with them but neither one would accept it, telling him that it was his.

She quickly filled in her brother about what she learnt about the Weasley twins. How they had been conned out of their winnings and that Bagman apparently made a run for it and wouldn’t be around anytime soon to pay them back.

If he even would if he was around.

At the end of the train ride, after Ron and Hermione left the compartment, Rose handed Harry’s bag of money to him, and the boy thrusted it into George’s hand.

“Here, take it.” Harry said.

Fred and George gaped at him.

“What?” Fred asked, looking flabbergasted.

“Take it,” Harry repeated firmly. “I don’t want it.”

“You’re mental,” George said, trying to push it back at Harry.

“No, I’m not,” Harry refuted. “You take it and get inventing. It’s for the joke shop.”

“He is mental,” Fred said in an almost awed voice.

“How did you know...” George said at the same time, staring at the bag in wonder.

“Listen,” Harry said firmly. “Ro’ told me what happened to your money. About how Bagman conned you. He’s not coming back and even if he did, it’s unlikely the git would pay you back. Now if you don’t take the money, I’m throwing it down the drain. I don’t want it and I don’t need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need them more than usual before long.”

Fred eyed Rose. “Figure’s you’d find out,” he muttered, and grinned at the slight smirk he got back.

“Harry,” George said weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, “there’s got to be a thousand Galleons in here.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, grinning. “Think how many Canary Creams that is.”

The twins stared at him.

“Just don’t tell your mum where you got it... although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it...”

“Harry,” Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand, Rose mirroring him at the exact same time.

“Look,” he said flatly, “take it, or we’ll hex you. I know some good ones now and Ro’ knows everything. Just do me one favour, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they’re from you.”

Fred and George shared a glance and looked between Harry and Rose. As one they said, “this doesn’t make you the better twins.”

Harry and Rose rolled their eyes simultaneously and both sets of twins grinned.

Without another word, Harry and Rose stepped out into the hall, leaving behind the still shocked Weasley twins, and stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s unconscious bodies on the floor.

When they stepped out onto the crowded platform, they immediately saw Sirius standing amongst the crowd of parents and children and Harry grinned, waving a hand in greeting.

Sirius smiled brightly when he saw them, flapping a hand excitedly in the air. The man still garnered slightly wary looks but not nearly as many as he had a few months ago. He wasted no time in making his way over to Harry and Rose, a smile still plastered on his face.

“Harry! Rosie!” He cried as he reached them, pulling them away from the exit of the train and into a tight hug.

Harry and Rose gave a huff of laughter at his enthusiasm, both returning the hug easily enough.

Sirius pulled back and looked them over. “Where’s your trunks?” He asked, looking around them as if they’d magically appear. He was dressed in Muggle clothing, looking like one of the bikers that Uncle Vernon always called hoodlums.

“Ro’ has them,” Harry told him with a grin.

He glanced around them, looking for Hermione, Ron and the rest of the Weasleys. He didn’t have to look long as he suddenly had his view obscured by bushy hair.

“Bye, Harry!” Hermione said in his ear. She quickly reached for Rose, pulling her into a hug as well. “Bye, Ro’!”

“See you, guys,” Ron said, appearing after Hermione and clapping them both on the shoulder. His head turned suddenly, likely having heard his mother, and gave them one last smile before heading off.

Fred and George leaned in close. “Thanks again, Harry.” Fred said earnestly, George nodding at his side.

Harry winked at them both and when he felt a hand grab his he looked over at Rose, she was watching Fred and George head off in the direction Ron went before she met his stare. Harry didn’t know what was going to happen next, but one thing remained the same as it always had. He had Rose, and he knew with her by his side that things would be okay. He’d look out for her, and she’d look out for him.

“You two ready to go?”

They turned to Sirius, who had been watching them with a fond expression on his face, his grey eyes warm and crinkling at the corners. It wasn’t just the two of them anymore either, Harry realized as he stared at their godfather. Sirius would be here for them, having already done more for them in the short year they knew each other than anyone else really had. 

Whatever happened with the war would happen, as long as the three of them made it out of this all alive, Harry would be fine.

So, with that thought in mind, their small group, their small hopeful family, made their way across the platform, heading through the barrier between here and the Muggle world, and for the first time since they started at Hogwarts, neither Harry nor Rose dreaded reaching the other side.

Chapter Text

“Where are we?”

They were currently standing on a rather decrepit looking Muggle street. After they left King’s Cross Sirius had pulled Harry and Rose aside and told them they’d be travelling by Apparition; side-along Apparition for the twins. It had been an experience and a half and left Harry wondering if there were any modes of transportation in the magical world that weren’t completely terrible.

The broom, he supposed.

Standing on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square, Harry looked around avidly, taking in the grimy fronts of the surrounding houses. They were not at all welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.

Rose eyed their surroundings with barely concealed disdain. While she and Harry were by no means slouches to living in poor conditions it had mostly been in the way of food and treatment. Their surroundings had always been pristine though, Privet Drive the model for suburban life, and Harry and Rose had long since had it ingrained in them to keep their surroundings clean.

“This is where we live,” Sirius said easily, stepping off the grass and onto pavement, urging them to follow with a vague hand.

Harry resisted the urge to cover his nose when the pungent smell of garbage reached him. “What happened to the house you were getting ready?” He asked in what he hoped wasn’t a whiny voice. Really, Sirius was taking them in, and he was grateful for that, but the garbage smell—

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, easily able to ascertain the kids’ doubts. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Read this,” he instructed as he handed it over.

Harry and Rose read the familiar tidy scrawl of Sirius’ writing:

The Black family home is at number twelve, Grimmauld Place

Almost as soon as they were finished reading Sirius swiped the paper back and quickly lit it on fire. While he did this Harry and Rose looked around for the house with a number twelve on it. They found an eleven but the house that should’ve had a twelve on it had thirteen instead.

“Think about what you just read,” Sirius told them, a smile growing on his face.

As the twin’s thought it over, not even halfway through saying it again in their mind, a dark wooden door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and surprisingly clean windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way. The twins gaped at it and they looked around at the other houses, to the windows that had lights on, and when no concerned faces appeared they realised that the Muggle’s didn’t feel the disturbance.

“The outside still needs some fixing up,” Sirius admitted as he stared up at the house. “I was more concerned with indoor renovations than outdoor. We’ll probably almost never use the door, Floo is just more convenient way to travel, so—”

He gave a shrug, looking back at Harry and Rose with a distinctly ‘oh well ’ expression.

“You used the Fidelius Charm.” Rose said suddenly, the words sounding more like a question than the statement she intended for it to be.

Sirius grinned. “Yeah. This time with myself as the Secret Keeper. Had the goblins at Gringotts help me set that up.”

Harry started as he recognized the charm Rose named after Sirius used the term Secret Keeper. This was the charm their parents had hidden under when they went into hiding. It seemed Sirius wasn’t taking any chances of trusting the wrong person again, understandably so.

“So, no one else will be able to find the house?” Harry reaffirmed.

Sirius nodded. “Remus knows, I gave him the location, but no one else does. With everything pointing towards Voldemort making a return I didn’t want to take any chances with just the original wards protecting us.”

He frowned for a moment, thinking over all the wards and mentally reassuring himself they would be enough. He wanted to make sure Harry and Rose were safe over the summer, the last thing he needed was something happening and Dumbledore trying to reopen the custody case.

No way it could happen, but the man would be a nuisance for trying.

Sirius was just relieved he hadn’t tried to get the Ministry to force him to live at Hogwarts with the twins— mind you, it wasn’t like Dumbledore was on good terms with Fudge as of late.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts for now, Sirius turned to the twins. “Shall we head in?”

He got matching nods back, Harry beaming brightly while Rose eyed the rest of the house. She was more than likely pondering over the wards, something Sirius decided to explain to her later if she’d like to listen.

Sirius climbed the steps with quick ease, not looking back to see if Harry and Rose were following. He placed a hand on the doorknob and felt a slight, barely noticeable, prick on his palm. “The goblins set it up so that it needs blood to be opened,” he explained as he pushed the door open, glancing over at the twins. “Anyone can open in from inside but outside only the three of us can.”

Rose nodded in understanding while Harry frowned. “How does that work?” He asked slowly, eyeing the door as he stepped in, looking away when Rose shut it behind them. “How does it know it’s our blood? Wouldn’t it need a sample first?”

Looking around them, Harry and Rose saw that the halls had greatly improved since March. Now lit up with much nicer looking torches, it was easier to see the changes around them. Gone was the dirt, grime and dust that littered the walls and floor. Now the walls were a muted grey colour, with a mirror or portrait here and there. The floor was a dark wood with a well-worn red and gold rug running down its centre. It was not as small as one would think; from outside the building did not look overly large, a typical English city house size, but inside it was roomy.

Expansion charms, Rose thought as she scanned the hall.

Sirius led them further into the house, climbing up a short set of stairs and passing by a coat rack. “It’s keyed by Black blood,” he explained a few steps ahead of them. “The main family only,” Sirius amended almost immediately. “Last thing we need is any of my crazier relatives showing up unannounced.”

They walked through a slightly larger entrance way decorated similarly to the hall, hanging above the centre of it was a crystal chandelier and below that was a small round table with a vase filled with flowers on top of it. To the left was an archway with red velvet curtains tied up on either side of it and looking in they could see some chairs and a small fireplace.

That must be the informal parlour, Rose thought as they passed on by.

They moved further down another hall until they came up to a familiar set of stairs now much cleaner and well lit. Glancing to the right, Harry saw the hall that led towards the kitchen, looking far better than before and not nearly as ominous.

“How can me and Ro’ open it then?” Harry asked as he turned back to his godfather, Rose looking just as curious.

Sirius stared at them for a beat, thinking about how to explain things. “Let’s go to the kitchen,” he decided, gesturing for them to head down the hall. “I made some snacks early today instead of a big supper, figured you wouldn’t be too hungry after the train ride. Most kids take advantage of the trolley the whole ride back.” He said with a cheeky grin over his shoulder and Harry had to admit he wasn’t wrong.

He wasn’t overly hungry, but he could definitely eat something; Rose probably more so than him considering she wasn’t fond of the snacks on the train.

The kitchen was just as they remembered it, only this time two plates and a bowl with food were on the counter, and a stack of three plates next to that. Sirius was quick to snag one and stacked a couple of things onto it. There was a plate with sandwiches, roast beef from the looks of it, another with some vegetables— celery, carrots, and broccoli— and a bowl of fruit. The twin’s watched as Sirius grabbed a spoon from another bowl and dropped a dollop of dipping sauce onto his plate next to his vegetables.

Sharing a quick look, Harry and Rose hesitantly followed suit. This was the first time they had come home to a ready meal— snack— whatever. Still, they didn’t want to seem ungrateful or let the food go to waste so they slowly filled their plates.

“Pumpkin Juice? Milk? Water?” Sirius asked them as he placed his food down on the table a few feet away.

Harry glanced at Rose then back to Sirius. “I’ll have Pumpkin Juice and Ro’ will have water.”

After the three were settled down at the table, Sirius sitting on one side while Harry and Rose sat across from him on the other side, and had tucked into their meals, Sirius eyed the twins in contemplation.

“I never explained why I was so confident I’d win the custody case,” he started slowly, both twin’s staring at him avidly. “Partly because I wanted to make sure no one knew about it— less of a chance that Dumbledore could think up a counter argument.” He frowned briefly at the sandwich in his hand. “Not that there’s much of an argument that could be made against it...”

Shaking his head, he put down his food and focused on Harry and Rose.

“Centuries ago there had been a series of underhanded ploys made by some of the lesser Pureblood families,” he said suddenly, surprising Harry and Rose with the non sequitur. “They would try to take another family name for themselves, mostly with second or third in line heirs who wanted to become a Lord.”

When he looked to see if they were following a long, he got simultaneous nods that were slow and unsure.

“When a Pureblood would have a child with a Muggleborn, or even a Muggle, they would declare illegitimacy and attempt to take the family name for their own. The only ones this claim would not work for are those in the Sacred Twenty-eight.” He rolled his eyes slightly at the last bit and explained. “It was believed that their blood was purer than all else and therefore could not be truly sullied, at least not enough to cost them their name.

“Where that attitude went, I have no idea,” Sirius added, thinking back to his parents’— and more importantly, his mother’s— disdain for mixing with non-Purebloods. If that logic had remained then the Black family could have heirs with Muggles or Muggleborns and still remain in high esteem.

He supposed the appeal of remaining completely pure eventually overshadowed their strong belief in their superiority.

“Anyway— the claims would be sent to Gringotts to legitimize its validity and then the trial would continue in the Ministry of Magic.

“There became a bit of a problem at times as a family who desired more power would murder the parents of a Halfblood child, take the name for themselves and cast the child out of the family.” Sirius had a look of disgust on his face as he said this, something Harry and Rose both mirrored. “There had to be no current Lord or Lady—in name or in-Standing—of the family before a claim could be sent to Gringotts. In order to keep your family name, the claim had to be disputed by the blood of the accused. No ifs, ands or buts. Obviously—” Sirius waved a hand about absently as he stared at the tabletop between them “—an orphan child could not do that.”

He stopped and looked at the twins. “You with me so far?” He got two nods in reply, though they both still looked a bit confused as to where this was going. Sirius nodded slowly. “Eventually this problem was— for the most part— solved by a ritual that could be done in the first three months following a child's birth. A Blood Adoption.”

Rose lifted a brow at this. From the things she’s read and what Marcus told her, she knew Blood Magic was a bit of a taboo in the magical world. The Lighter families frowned upon it while the Neutral and Darker families approached it with caution. There were the exceptions, skewered exceptions like if it was being done for ‘the right thing’, then it would be okay.

The Blood Wards surrounding Privet Drive were just a prime example.

“When a Pureblood had a child with a Muggleborn or a Muggle they would have another Pureblood Blood-Adopt the child so that their future in the magical world would be more secure and their inheritance and family name couldn’t be stolen. The one who did the adopting would officially become a Lord-In-Standing until the child became of age.” Sirius said quietly, watching them carefully. “The adoption would essentially make the child a Pureblood though that wasn’t necessarily the purpose of the ritual.

“Families had the good sense of not spreading the news around that they did a Blood Adoption at all so that if someone decided to usurp them then the Gringotts claim would declare a Lord-In-Standing alive and the claim would be denied.”

“Wouldn’t want people to just kill the one doing the adopting either,” Harry helpfully supplied, getting a wane grin from Sirius and a huff of amusement from his sister.

“The ritual would essentially make the Blood Adoptee a parent by blood and the child would have three parents. Although the adoptee wouldn’t necessarily have any say in the child’s life,” Sirius explained, frowning in thought. “It was customary for the parents to ask a close family friend. The ritual, while harmless for the child, would be exceedingly painful for the Blood Adoptee, so it was not something done lightly or done with a stranger.”

“That’s how you won the trial,” Rose said quietly, and Sirius’s eyes darted to her. “You knew you would win because you’re one of our parents by blood.”

It was the only logical conclusion for this conversation. Sirius bringing up the trial, the process of Blood Adoption. Their parents were in the middle of war, direct targets at that, why wouldn’t they make sure their children’s future was secure. Who better to ask than their best friend and a family member of one of the Sacred Twenty-eight.

Rose couldn’t imagine anyone actually trying to take the Potter name from them though, considering their reputation, but it’s not like their parents knew what would happen.

“Yes,” Sirius said quietly, trying to read emotions on Rose’s face. Harry, he knew, he could see it clear on his face. Shock. Disbelief. Hope. Rose, he couldn’t quite tell though, the girl had a poker face like you wouldn’t believe— even to him. Normally he could get a good read on her, years of living surrounded by blank-faced Purebloods honing his skills of reading emotions, but now—

He was far too worried about what the reaction would be to properly understand what he was seeing.

Sirius smiled faintly. “I knew that those at the trial wouldn’t want to keep you two away from me. We’re family by blood and that was the same claim Dumbledore was trying to use to keep you with those beasts you lived with.”

They both grimaced at that. The fact that the Dursley’s were the only family they had to speak of was hardly a trait they were proud of. Although, that was no longer true, Harry thought. Now they had Sirius who, by actual blood, was their parent. As the twin’s lapsed into silence, Sirius didn’t try to push them to talk. He knew it was shocking and that they’d need to process it on their own times. They had all the time in the world to talk it over now.

“Tomorrow we’re going to St. Mungo’s,” he said quietly, and their eyes darted up to him once more. “It was suggested that the two of you talk to a Mind Healer and as someone who still sees one, I think it will be a good idea.”

Harry frowned. He didn’t like the idea of talking to someone about his secrets, what if they told someone?

Sirius could practically read Harry’s thoughts. “Mind Healers take Unbreakable Vows forbidding them to discuss their clients with anyone but those their client allows.”

Pursing his lips Harry nodded slightly, but his brow was still furrowed. “How you gonna send Ro’ to talk to someone?”

Rose lifted a brow at that, looking at Sirius in question.

“We’re going to start with joint sessions,” Sirius answered easily enough. “So, you’ll both go together to meet them and whenever the Mind Healer thinks it’s time to do separate sessions then she’ll let us know.”

“She?”

Rose flicked Harry’s ear immediately and he jerked his head away. “Ow! I didn’t mean like she’s a girl, I just wanna know more about her!”

Laughing loudly, Sirius shook his head. “Her name is Wendy; she deals with teenagers, and she seemed nice.”

“She’s not the person you talk to,” Harry realised.

“No,” Sirius replied. “My Mind Healer is an older guy.”

Harry didn’t have anything to say to that, so he nodded slowly.

Sirius watched them for a few moments, the room silent for the most part, before he asked. “How do you guys feel about this?”

“Does it matter?” Harry asked. “I mean— we’re going no matter what, right?”

A frown graced their godfather’s face. “I do want you to see a Mind Healer. With everything you’ve been through, both Muggle and magical, I want you to talk to a professional.” He told them softly, his eyes understanding in the face of their reluctance. “But I want us to be able to talk about things. If somethings wrong or you don’t like something then we’ll work on a compromise, alright?”

“Alright,” Harry said quietly, seeing the reasoning in Sirius’s words as much as he may not want to.

“Why don’t you guys head up to your room,” Sirius suggested then. “You had a long trip, I’m sure you want to be able to get settled.”

Harry and Rose looked down at the dishes. “Shouldn’t we clean up first?” Harry asked.

Standing up, Sirius started to grab the plates between them. “Nah, I’ll clean this up, you two go relax.”

Neither of them moved for a few seconds, watching Sirius take the dirty dishes to the sink. It was only after they shared a questioning look that they decided to listen to the man. Pushing their chairs back, they made for the door, Harry murmuring a quiet thanks for the meal to Sirius as they passed him and getting a wave of the hand in reply.

The summer just started, and it already felt like one of the strangest ones they’ve had.

In the best way of course.

Living with Sirius was great.

It was only a week into the summer holidays and Harry and Rose took most of that time to explore Grimmauld Place. The kitchen was in the basement and after a bit more questioning the two discovered that the small storage room they saw that first day here was called the scullery.

The main floor that had the entrance way and the front door also had the informal parlour. It was a small, neatly done up room with not much else inside beyond a few bits of décor, seats and a coffee table. Also on that floor was a spacious coat room and a powder room. The latter of which was another word for a bathroom except it didn’t have a shower or bath in it. The twins’ favourite spot on this floor though was the sun-room. It was further back into the house and one wall was completely clear so they could see right into the backyard.

The two wasted no time in checking out the Owlery Sirius had told them he’d have ready. Hedwig absolutely loved it.

The backyard was surprisingly big considering the area they were in. Sirius told them that there were wards around it that would keep the Muggles from seeing into their yard. The Owlery was on the left side of the yard while on the right there was a quaint greenhouse with a small shed attached to it.

The first floor had the main parlour, which had the fireplace that was connected to the Floo Network— neither twin wasted much time there as they had gotten a good look at it the first time. It also had another powder room, a potions-ingredients storage room, and a drawing room.

The drawing room was interesting. The room had a small seating area similar to that in the informal parlour, but that wasn’t what made the room interesting. No, it was the tapestry that hung up on the entirety of one of its walls that caught their eyes. It looked immensely old; in a regal kind of way, if that made any sense whatsoever. It was embroidered with golden thread that glinted brightly enough to show them a sprawling family tree dating back (as far as they could tell) to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:

 The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black “Toujours Pur”

“This is your family?” Harry had asked as he and Rose scanned the tapestry, absently speaking to Sirius who was hovering a few steps behind them.

“In the faintest of terms,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

Harry followed the lines to the bottom and spotted a familiar name. “You’re related to Malfoy!” Rose glanced over and sure enough there was Draco Malfoy’s name directly under the name Narcissa Malfoy.

Sirius hummed. “Somewhat distantly,” he said. “Narcissa’s my first cousin so that would make her son my second cousin. Your third cousin.”

Rose laughed quietly at the look of indignation on Harry’s face when Sirius said the last part. She traced her fingertip along the gold lines, eventually coming upon Walburga Black and noticed something. Freezing, she frowned, wondering if she was getting things mixed up.

“No, it’s right,” Sirius offered lightly, an amused lilt to his tone. “My parents were second cousins.”

Harry wrinkled his nose, finally tearing his eyes away from Malfoy’s name— and Merlin he couldn’t believe he was now related to the ponce— when he spotted another familiar name. “Bellatrix Lestrange?”

Glancing back over at the boy, Sirius nodded. “Yup, that’s Cousin Bella. She’s Cissa’s older sister— Andy’s too.”

Harry frowned. “Andy?” There were no other names in the same spot, the only extra spot was burnt off and Sirius gestured to it.

“She was cast out of the family for marrying a Muggleborn.”

Rose recognized the name, recalling Marcus talking about it with her sometime last year. She looked over her shoulder at Sirius with a faintly amused expression and Sirius grinned as he saw it.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure my grandfather kicked himself for that one after Nymphadora was born.” He said and when he saw Harry’s confused expression he explained. “Dora’s a Metamorphagus, she can change her appearance at will.”

“Wicked,” Harry breathed.

“It was thought to be an extinct Black family trait, hadn’t seen one in centuries before Dora.”

As Rose turned back to the tapestry, she followed downward until she reached Sirius’s name and then—

“And that’s both of your names.”

Harry’s head turned to Rose quickly when Sirius spoke, and he instantly side-stepped over. Directly under Sirius’s name, connected by two golden lines, were Harry and Rose’s names and directly below both of them were their birth dates followed by a small line.

Harry glanced up and saw the name next to Sirius’s. That must be the brother he told them about, the one who used to live on their floor. Regulus Black; under his name were two dates, one Harry assumed was his birth date while the other must’ve been when he died.

The latter was about a month before Harry and Rose were born.

“He was younger than me,” Sirius said quietly, “and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.”

“But he died,” Harry said unnecessarily.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “He joined the Death Eaters.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Sirius, shocked even though he knew he shouldn’t be. The insults Sirius’s mom’s portrait had shouted had given him a good idea as to what the Black family believed; plus, what Rose had learnt about them as well. They weren’t the kind of family people would be surprised to see join Voldemort.

“Were— were your parents Death Eaters as well?”

“No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggleborns and having Purebloods in charge. They weren’t alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colours, who thought he had the right idea about things... They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents' thought Reggie was a right little hero for joining up at first.”

“Was he killed by an Auror?” Harry asked tentatively, sharing a look with Rose who had a considering look on her face.

“Oh no,” Sirius said. “No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort’s orders, more likely, I doubt Reggie was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It’s a lifetime of service or death.”

The conversation had been left at that, Sirius heading off to get lunch ready while the twins continued to explore.

The second floor of Grimmauld Place was the same one Sirius told them to be quiet on when they first visited. That was no longer the case as the Gringotts goblins managed to tear down the hollering portrait of Walburga Black. It also had a Sitting Room very similar to the main parlour’s, two guest bedrooms, and a guest bathroom.

On this floor as well was the formal dining room, that room had been something. 

With a long, dark table, elegant looking chairs and two crystal chandeliers hanging above it, it was a sight to see. There were deep red velvet curtains hanging along the walls and a matching rug underneath the table. It screamed money, but in a more tasteful way.

The third floor had Rose’s favourite place; the library. Its walls were almost entirely covered in bookshelves, the only places that were not was a small area where a fireplace was sitting and the doorway. When the fire was lit it made the room seem beyond cozy, Harry had become fond of napping in the room on the couches while his sister read, the heat from the fire seeping into his bones and leaving him sleepy.

The master study was also on this floor, which was Sirius’s study where he did whatever it was that Sirius needed to do. There was another drawing room that Harry and Rose had taken to calling the ‘study room’ as it was where the two would do their homework. The floor also had another guest bedroom that was obviously empty.

The fourth floor had the family living room, a much homier seating area than any of the others, a music room, another powder room and a training room. 

The training room was just a place for the kids to practice their magic, though neither had done so yet this summer. The music room had multiple instruments inside as well as two settees for one to sit on. The most expensive looking instruments were the grand piano and the harp, both of which seemed much older than the twins. There were also a few other instruments that Harry didn’t know the exact names of beyond the violin and flute.

The fifth floor, true to word, only had their bedrooms on it, both with connecting bathrooms. The sixth floor had two bedrooms as well, one was Sirius’s and the other had Buckbeak inside.

Harry had been thrilled to see the creature, part of him worried that Sirius had been forced to leave him behind somewhere.

The attic was nothing to write home about, just an old and dusty area that no one bothered to go near.

All in all, the twins loved the house. The colouring was basically the same in each room, blacks, greys, reds and golds, except for the rooms that were more personal; Harry and Rose’s bedrooms, and Sirius’s bedroom and study. It was a rather extravagant way of living compared to what either twin was used to, but it wasn’t a completely big change. It never left either one of them feeling uncomfortable, that is, the big house managing to feel homey in a way that rivaled Hogwarts itself. 

At the end of their first week, Harry and Rose were lying around, lounging in the middle area between their rooms, and were surprised to suddenly hear a musical chime go off.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, looking around curiously.

Rose shrugged, frowning as she stood up and made for the door. Harry was quick to scramble up and follow her, catching up to his sister just as she reached the railing of the staircase. The two peeked down and they could hear Sirius’s voice travel up to their ears, the man speaking in low murmurs.

“It was the doorbell,” Harry whispered. Rose turned her head slowly to look at Harry and lifted her brows in silent sarcasm and Harry snickered quietly.

“Harry! Rosie!”

The two jumped as Sirius suddenly called for them and, exchanging a look, swiftly made their way down the stairs. As they climbed down, Harry absently wished that the staircase was a spiral one, at least then he could have slid down the banister.

When they reached the bottom, they spotted a familiar figure standing with Sirius.

“Professor Lupin?”

Lupin smiled tiredly, looking as haggard as ever. “No need for calling me professor anymore, Harry.”

While finding out at the end of their third year that their then-Defence Professor had been a close friend of their fathers, neither knew much else about the man. They knew he was a werewolf and that he had also been close with Sirius in his youth, but—

The man hadn’t kept in touch after he left his position at Hogwarts, not like Sirius had. Not at all actually.

Harry and Rose grew up constantly being reminded how they were shoved off onto their relatives, that the connection they shared with the Dursleys through their mother was a burden upon the family. Safe to say that was a lesson they took to heart and had no desire to push the same burden onto Lupin. Considering the man’s obvious disinterest in keeping in touch on his part too, that was probably the best choice.

Just because he was friends with their parents didn’t mean he owed them anything. Considering they had never even heard of the man before he came to Hogwarts, and he spent the vast majority of the year neglecting to mention that he knew their parents at all, he probably agreed.

Still, it was nice to see him. Then man had been a favourite of both twins— a good majority of the school’s too— for the short year he taught Defence to them. Mind you, it wasn’t too hard to be a favourite in that particular position considering the past professors.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked curiously, tilting his head to one side as he tried to think of a reason.

Sirius gave a huff of laughter and reached out to tousle Harry’s hair. “Well, first of all, Moony here is keyed into the wards so he’s free to pop in anytime he likes.”

Harry smiled sheepishly, he hadn’t intended to sound accusing or anything. Thankfully, judging by the crinkles at the corner of Sirius’s eyes, the man understood that.

“However, he is here for a specific reason,” he relented, glancing at Lupin who was watching them patiently. “I wanted him to teach Rosie how to do the Patronus Charm.”

Harry and Rose looked at their godfather in surprise and Sirius caught Rose’s eye. “I know you were reluctant to learn before, but I’d like you to learn now,” he said quietly, an oddly serious expression on his face. “The dementors were one of the stronger forces Voldemort swayed to his side in the last war and I want you to be able to defend yourself.”

“Well, I’ll be with her,” Harry pointed out.

Sirius smiled fondly at Harry. “You can’t be with her all the time, Harry. Besides what happens if you’re injured or unconscious? Then it’ll be up to Rosie to defend you both.”

He had a point there.

Rose nodded slowly, understanding the man's worries, Marcus had told her all about the things dementors had done in the First War back when she started her third year. The last thing she’d want was for something to happen to Harry just because she was reluctant to try learning something.

“Great!” Sirius said happily, clapping his hands together with a grin. “So, we’ll start now?” He looked at Lupin in question and the man nodded.

Lupin glanced upstairs, down the hall and then at Sirius. “Should we do it in the backyard?”

Sirius nodded.

“Wait,” Harry cut in. “Won't we get in trouble for using our wands?”

“The trace isn’t on the wand, nor can it detect who is using magic in a magical rich environment,” Lupin helpfully told him. “Normally the only actual underage magic they are able to detect are the ones who live with Muggles.”

Harry got an indignant look on his face that each of them understood very easily. It was hardly fair that Muggleborns should suffer simply because of who they lived with, but the Ministry was rather slow with the times.

Rose turned to head towards the sun-room before her brother could work himself into a tiff about the unfairness of the rules. She could hear footsteps following behind her followed by Harry’s irritated huff, likely still thinking of the injustice of it all.

The backyard was one of the spots Rose was most fond of. The fact that she didn’t have to do the weeding or gardening out here was always a big bonus, but it also reminded her of the days her and Harry would hide out in the park near Privet Drive. It was one of the few reprieves they got from their relatives, and she cherished every second of it.

The backyard had an expanse of green grass except for a small area between the Owlery and the green house. There the dirt was exposed, and Sirius had told them it was because his parents usually performed more earth-based rituals there. Flowers were planted along the edge of the house and there was a short stone path that faded off about two feet away from the bottom of the stone staircase. Rose glanced up at the sun hanging high above them, it was just after noon, and her gaze flickered to the Owlery.

Hedwig was probably asleep at the moment.

When she reached the middle area of the backyard Rose turned to face the others, watching as Sirius moved to the side, eyeing the flowers with a critical eye, while Lupin stopped a few steps from her. Harry was still trailing behind, a frown on his face that had Rose wanting to smile.

“Shall we just jump right in?” Lupin asked easily enough.

Rose sighed, tilting her head in question.

Lupin had a brief moment to flounder, unsure what Rose was trying to ask, when Harry helpfully supplied. “How often we gonna do this?”

Sirius glanced at Harry then to Rose. Harry’s knack for interpreting for his sister was unparalleled; he hoped he’d be able to at least semi-manage it by the end of the summer.

“We’ll do this two times a week,” Sirius said, making his way over to Harry and swinging an arm over his shoulder.

The twins nodded together, and Rose pulled out her wand, looking to Lupin with an expression that said, let’s do this.

Three days after Rose’s first Patronus lesson— which did not go so great— she, Harry and Sirius were eating breakfast in the kitchen. Sirius had made them some eggs, bacon, and toast and the three ate in silence; Harry was tired but had been swayed down by the prospect of food. Sirius was reading the Daily Prophet and Rose was focused on her food, mind far off as she thought about what she wanted to do today.

When Sirius tossed the paper down and turned his attention back to his meal Harry glanced over at the front page and sat up straight when he saw the headline.

Deranged Dumbledore!

Harry was quick to snatch up the paper, reading it hurriedly with a frown on his face. Rose leaning closer to read along over Harry’s shoulder.

Huh . It seemed she was right about her assumption that the Ministry would try to discredit Dumbledore. She was surprised they hadn’t made a swipe at Harry, but perhaps it was enough for the Minister that he never actually said the Dark Lord was back straight to him.

“How come they’re trashing Dumbledore?” Harry asked aghast.

Sirius chewed his food in silence for a few seconds. “Fudge doesn’t want to be the Minister in term when a Dark Lord rises; least of all one as infamous as Voldemort.” His eyes flickered to the paper, and he jerked his chin in its direction. “They’ll put his reputation into question first to keep people from believing him.”

“I was there too though,” Harry said slowly. “I was the one who told Dumbledore he was back.”

“True, but you never said that to Fudge himself. You only mentioned the Portkey and Pettigrew.”

Harry glanced at his sister, remembering clearly her words of advice to him the night of the third task. Had she suspected this? Rose was staring at Sirius when his eyes reached her, lifting a brow in question.

Sirius relented with an easy shrug. “They did try to run an article that wasn’t in the best of lights towards either of you, but I quickly reminded them how much the Black lawyers love a good slander lawsuit.”

Harry resisted the urge to smile at that, remembering how frustrated he had been with Skeeters articles back when the tournament first started. Rose had put a stop to that then, now Sirius was doing the same. It was comforting to know he had multiple people he could rely on to back him up.

“You’re not gonna stop them from talking about Dumbledore?” Harry assumed rightly.

Sirius cleared off the last of his plate and grabbed his cup of juice. “Dumbledore’s a big boy. He can take care of his own problems.”

Harry watched Sirius stand, the man reaching over to grab Rose’s empty plate and stacking it upon his own. Harry absently started to pick at his meal again, his eyes still trailing after Sirius who was now walking over to the sink. “People don’t believe he’s back?”

“It’s more they don’t want to believe it,” Sirius answered. “The First War was some dark times, no one wants to go back to living that way. Plus, there haven't been any suspicious incidents happening to support Dumbledore’s claims.”

“Suspicious incidents?”

Sirius looked over at Harry, abandoning the dishes and leaning back against the sink. “There’s been no strange deaths, missing people or anything along those lines; not counting the ones that happened during your school year.”

“Why not?” Harry asked with a confused expression, wincing only briefly at the inexplicit mention of Cedric Diggory.

Sirius laughed lightly at the query. “Because Voldemort doesn’t want that, it wasn’t part of his plan. He had intended to come back without Dumbledore ever being aware, without anyone being aware. It would be that much easier for him to get his army ready without any interruptions.”

The twins stared at Sirius in silence. While Harry was realising how much sense this made, Rose was already aware of this. It was a very Slytherin tactic and every move the Dark Lord had made so far had proved he didn’t want to be seen yet.

Strike once but strike hard. Always the best opening move.

“What about what Dumbledore said?” Harry asked Sirius suddenly. “He said he was gathering people.”

Sirius frowned. “Back during the First War, Dumbledore had gathered a group of people to help fight against Voldemort. Your parents were a part of it, as was I, but I won’t be this time.” He glanced around the room and absently said. “I know he was hoping to use this place as a base but as far as I'm concerned the two of you are staying far away from this war.”

That sounded good to Rose. She wanted nothing to do with Dumbledore’s fight and she was relieved to hear Sirius say the same thing without any prompting. Harry nodded in understanding of Sirius' words, had it not been for his sister he’d probably be scrambling to join the front lines, but he wouldn’t be doing that. He couldn’t risk dying— not when he had already come so close already— and leaving Rose all alone.

The two jumped when Sirius suddenly cleared his throat. “Relax,” he said with a grin. “I’ve got some stuff to do in the study, so that’s where I’ll be if you need me, alright?” He waved his wand towards the sink and Harry and Rose watched as the dishes quickly cleaned and put themselves away.

They nodded in reply to Sirius, but their eyes didn’t stray from the display of magic. Sirius chuckled quietly while he made his way out of the room, climbing up the steps with quick ease.

Harry tore his eyes away from the sink when the last of the magic had dissipated and looked to his sister. “I’m gonna go back to sleep,” he decided, his eyes getting heavier with each blink. Rose laughed quietly and nodded, pushing him out of his seat and grabbing Harry’s now empty plate.

“I can wash it.”

Rose shook her head, shooing Harry on with a smile. Harry beamed at her and offered a tired salute, making his way out of the kitchen.

It didn’t take Rose long to wash Harry’s plate and cup, placing them up with the rest. She had half a mind to go ask Sirius about the spell he used, it seemed like a pretty handy one. With her research into magic, she hadn’t come across any books on household spells, though she had seen Mrs. Weasley use plenty.

They seemed like exactly what she wished she could do back when they lived with their relatives. The areas around them cleaned themselves up while one just watched on.

Rose was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of items falling. Turning her head to the opposite end of the kitchen, her eyes darted to the scullery and found it looking just the same as it always did. Eyes trailing across the floor she stopped when she spotted a small cupboard door. A vague part of her was yet again reminded of her and Harry’s cupboard at Privet Drive.

Pulling out her wand, Rose cautiously walked over, moving around the table with careful steps. When she got closer, she shot an opening charm at the cupboard and froze when the small door swung forward, and numerous items came clattering out.

They were the most random assortment of items she had ever seen, her eyes spotting an old watch, a sock, and a broken candle stick. It was the item closest to her that she recognized though and not because the sight of it was familiar but rather the feeling of it.

Crouching down, Rose reached for the small golden locket that was resting near her foot. Grasping its chain she lifted it slowly, the locket swaying in the air when she brought it to eye level. It had a serpentine S, inlaid with glittering, green stones, and the rest of it was made of heavy gold.

“That’s Master Regulus’s locket!”

Rose jumped back when a small form lunged towards her standing back up at her full height. Throwing her free hand out, she stopped the creature in its tracks, hands still reaching for the locket in her grasp.

Kreacher was a rather unpleasant being— house-elf. Harry and Rose met him on their third day here. He was constantly muttering under his breath about how unworthy they were and how his poor Mistress would be appalled to see them here. He was dressed in a dirty looking tea towel and had a bulbous, snout-like nose, bloodshot eyes, and white hair growing out of his bat-like ears. He glared at Rose with a mutinous look but every so often his eyes would flicker to the locket, a wary look entering them for a flash of a second.

This was not Regulus Black’s locket.

Oh, he may have found it or discovered it at some point, may have even given it to Kreacher to keep before his death, but it was not his.

Rose could feel the alluring presence surrounding the locket the second it skittered across the floor and into her foot. It was a feeling she had only felt one other time before back when she was twelve. It was this, coupled with the very Slytherin accents on the locket itself, that led her to be certain that this belonged to the Dark Lord.

How and why Regulus Black had it was a mystery.

She analyzed the locket for a few seconds, ignoring Kreacher’s presence all together, and finally crouched back down to Kreacher’s level.

“Where did Regulus Black get this from?” Rose asked in a quiet voice, more of an order than a question.

She watched as Kreacher’s eyes widened slightly in realization; neither Harry nor Rose had ever spoken to him directly, definitely haven’t given him any orders, so this would be the first time he would be made aware that he’d have to listen to her.

“Master Regulus— told Kreacher— not to tell— the family,” he spat out in short interments, glaring at the floor between them.

Rose smiled faintly. “Well, I was not a part of the family when he said this, now was I?”

Kreacher’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, his beady eyes scanning her smiling face. Leaning forward, his voice dropping into an almost silent whisper, Kreacher told Rose everything he knew about the locket.

Rose swiftly climbed the stairs of Grimmauld Place. Her conversation with Kreacher had been enlightening and after making sure the elf calmed down— having burst into tears while telling the story— she was quick to head up to her room, locket still in hand.

She was rather glad that Harry was asleep and that Sirius was busy in his study.

As she reached the floor that held their bedrooms, Rose was quick to dart to her door, pushing it open and throwing up the wall that separated her room from Harry’s. She crossed to where her trunk was placed beside the desk in her room, kneeled down and pulled it open in one quick move. She wasted no time in shuffling through her items with one hand, the other still clutching the chain of the locket.

Finally she found what she was looking for, an item that she hadn’t looked at in years. It was something she made that she was rather proud of and as she dragged her thumb along the edge, she felt the once familiar prick that drew out her blood. Opening the small container, Rose reached in, pulling out the lone item inside and holding it in plain view, bringing the locket up beside it.

“That’s two,” Rose murmured quietly to herself as she stared at the golden locket and the old, worn diary.

When Rose created her warded box, she had intended for the thing to mask any magic from any items inside of it. By sheer luck she managed to do just that as well as contain the magic from any item inside the box.

Rose didn’t know exactly what the diary was, even years later and countless books read, but she knew it was important. When they realised the diary had something to do with the Chamber of Secrets and that the Dark Lord also had something to do with it— it was an easy conclusion. The diary belonged to the Dark Lord in some way.

It had to be important. If Lucius Malfoy was attempting to ditch it and a man who was supposedly willing to trade with anyone refused to take it, then it had to be important. It would have been stupid to get rid of a potential bargaining piece.

That was all the thing was to her in the end, a bargaining piece to try and secure her and Harry’s future— their future out of this war.

So, she had spent days upon days recreating a replica of the diary and had planned to swap them out. Only that plan was derailed once the diary got stolen and then they wound up in the Chamber of Secrets. She had almost completely given up on the plan when they had a basilisk set loose on them, throwing the diary she made aside as she attempted to get Harry out of there.

Then the bird showed up.

And the Hat.

When it came down to it— The basilisk dead, Harry, dying and holding the fang in one hand above one diary and Rose, bleeding, holding her warded box and another diary in her hands. The twins had moved at the same time, Harry stabbing downward as Rose shoved the diary into the box.

Tom Riddle screamed. Then he was gone.

Rose hadn’t figured out if it had worked until a few days later. She had shrunk the box, tucking it away out of sight and scrambling over to Harry, and when she finally put it back to its normal size, she had opened it up and casted a revealing charm.

It wasn’t the one she made.

Since then, the warded box, and the diary with it, remained at the bottom of her trunk waiting to be used.

Now she had a locket as well, one that the Dark Lord valued enough to hide surrounded by a lake of Inferi by the sounds of it. Regulus Black saw the importance of this item, knew exactly what it was and had sought to destroy it. According to Kreacher, he believed that destroying it would in turn destroy the Dark Lord.

Which was interesting to say the least.

Regulus Black never explicitly told Kreacher what the locket was, but Rose would bet her life savings that the answer lied in the Black Family Library. She’d find it eventually.

“Rosie! What do you feel like having for lunch?”

Rose glanced upwards at the clock that was now approaching noon and towards the door where Sirius’s voice rang up from downstairs. Quickly tucking both the locket and diary into the box, she sealed it shut and buried it back in the bottom of her trunk.

She still needed to do more research before she could make any further ploys with the items. For now, she would go see what options Sirius had for lunch, Harry should wake up soon, perhaps the three of them could go eat in the Muggle world.

Chapter Text

Things had taken a small turn as of late— a good one though. 

Kreacher, the miserable house-elf that he was, suddenly decided he quite liked serving them. He was always quick to make breakfast and to offer Harry and Rose snacks while they studied, and he made sure to dust and clean any spot that needed it as soon as possible.

Harry and Sirius were bewildered by the sudden change. 

Rose was not.

Sirius was now on forcibly civil terms with Kreacher, having muttered an insult under his breath and receiving a glare from Rose until he took it back.

Kreacher seemed to absolutely love Rose— he was amicable with Harry, which the boy would take considering his previous attitude— and was always quick to help her if she needed anything. The number of books he’d cart back and forth from the library to her room was laughable to Harry. No one was going to look a gift horse in the mouth though, so Harry embraced the change while Sirius held any insults behind his teeth.

Living with the twins had so far been an incredible experience. Sirius couldn’t say this is how he’d imagined it going, because he always imagined James and Lily being here too but considering the circumstances this was as good as it got.

Harry and Rose went and saw Wendy twice a week— their sessions still together at the moment— and after the latest one she had pulled Sirius aside to talk to him privately.

“We’ll start one on one sessions next month,” she told him calmly. “But we’ll have a joint session once a week, just so they have that sense of camaraderie. The last thing we want is for them to feel alone in any of this.”

Sirius nodded slowly, that made sense.  “How are they? I mean— they seem to be fairly okay to me but I’m hardly a professional.”

Wendy smiled minutely at his concern. “Harry is very much in denial about the treatment he received,” she told him quietly. “He understands that if anyone else were to do any of the things that were done to him and his sister that they’d be charged with abuse, but he will not acknowledge out loud that he was abused.” A frown came upon her face, her eyes troubled and her brow furrowed. “I am concerned about the moment he does accept it and I’m hoping he’ll be in a more secure environment when that happens but for now, we’ll continue on as we are with him.”

Sirius nodded. He wasn’t too surprised about that, he himself was the same way regarding his family. The time James forced his realisation out of him was one neither of them ever forgot. Sirius had raged against it all before having a complete breakdown.

He firmly agreed with Wendy on the hope that Harry would be in a secure place whenever he reached his moment of realisation.

“What about Rosie?”

“From what I’ve been able to ascertain from Rose, she seems to have more of a realistic acknowledgment of their treatment. Not too surprising considering she was the one who went to the press regarding it, she had to know that what was happening was far from okay and that actions would be taken.”

Sirius nodded, his mind thinking back to when he first read the article. He had wanted to go wring Petunia Dursley's skinny neck when he read how she and that walrus of a husband of hers treated Harry and Rose.

“What about the not talking thing?” Sirius felt compelled to ask, watching Wendy’s expressions carefully.

Wendy shook her head. “I’m not overly concerned about that. While it very likely is a result from the trauma she had to deal with, she is not completely mute. She does talk when a situation truly warrants it, and she does speak to friends and family on more than a single occasion.”

Sirius felt relieved when she said this. He had worried that it was more troublesome than he was thinking that Rose hardly ever said a word but hearing it from a trained professional really lifted a weight off his shoulders.

“There is a good chance that the longer they live with you, and the more it sinks in that they will not go back to their relatives, Rose will start speaking more. Our first and only goal will simply be to have her comfortable speaking at home. That will be what’s most important.”

She had left it at that and Sirius took Harry and Rose home, thinking over the woman's words heavily.

Harry was a Gryffindor at heart, idealistic and stubborn— more like Lily than anything else. It made sense that he wouldn’t want to admit that the only blood he had for most of his life had treated him as terribly as they had. Whether it was embarrassment, indignation, or fury— or a mixture of the three even— he seemed more content to move on and forget about it all together.

Rose though, she was a Slytherin through and through. The kind Sirius knew his parents would have wanted him and Regulus to be. She saw cold hard facts and the ones presented to her all her life were that their relatives abused them. No other way around that.

Sirius constantly had a small voice in the back of his mind telling him that Rose just might return to Privet Drive. Maybe she’d burn the place down one day, truly destroying the standing proof of what she endured, maybe not, but Sirius was certain she’d go back.

He did eventually.

He’d be there for her whenever she did, would go with her if she wanted him to, and Sirius would support whatever choice she made in the end. Whether it was destroying the house or simply leaving it behind without another look back.

As Sirius climbed the stairs, he reflected silently on how it felt to be back. He had dreaded living here, living with the memories that this place had, but since the renovations he hardly saw it as the house he once knew. Sure, the general themes of décor were on the darker side but it in no way reminded him of the old house. It was a sophisticated colouring rather than the grim colouring it once was.

Sirius liked living in this house, this one that actually felt like home. He could be in the kitchen or walking to his study and he’d hear Harry and Rose laughing and it would make him smile. It would make this warm feeling in his chest that he thought Azkaban had snuffed out bloom until he was grinning.

They’d never be the family they could have been, the one the First War well and truly destroyed, but they could still be a happy one.

He had taken to inviting Remus over for meals, plus his lessons with Rose that still weren’t progressing beyond a silvery mist, and the man accepted most invites. He was slow to warm up to the twins though but Sirius had hoped that eventually Remus would fold into their family dynamics as easily as the three of them had.

Sirius stumbled to a stop as Kreacher lumbered out of a room, a dusting brush in one hand. He was wearing the small uniform Rose had made him, and it still amused and bewildered Sirius when he thought of how she got the elf to wear it.

He had been making dinner the other night while Rose sat at the table with different snippets of fabric in front of her. Kreacher had stood on the table, watching her work with narrowed eyes.

“House-elves do not need clothes, Mistress Rose,” he had muttered quietly to her, his voice on the verge of scolding.

Rose had just shook her head, continuing to work on the uniform she wanted to make for Kreacher. “You are a Black family elf,” she had said eventually, looking up to meet Kreacher’s eyes. “The Black family is a prestigious one. As such, everything about it— including those who serve it— should reflect that.”

She said it in a firm tone that had Kreacher staring at her for a few long seconds before he stood straighter, puffing out his chest and giving a nod of understanding.

Sirius had to hand her that one. If there was one thing Kreacher was loyal and borderline obsessive about, it was doing the Black family proud. And it clearly worked as Kreacher had put the thing on as soon as Rose was done making it and now, he wore it proudly, keeping the thing cleaner than he did that old dish rag.

“Do you know where the twins are, Kreacher?” Sirius asked the miserable elf.

He wouldn’t ever like Kreacher, hadn’t imagined even being civil with him, but the look Rose had given him— one that achingly reminded him of the days Lily would scold him and James at school— had Sirius caving in a heartbeat.

Kreacher’s eyes flickered up to him and Sirius was certain that it was only due to his fondness of Rose that had him refraining from insulting or sneering at him.

“Master Harry is napping in his room. Mistress Rose is sitting on the balcony.” He told Sirius in a rough mutter, not waiting for a response as he shuffled into the next room.

The balcony?

Sirius frowned in confusion. He had just been in the study room, as Harry and Rose called it, the only room with a balcony, and Rose hadn’t been there. He stared at the spot Kreacher had been standing in before it suddenly clicked.

As Sirius climbed the stairs, he thought about the last time he had been on that ‘balcony’. When he and Regulus were younger, they would often sneak past their parents’ room and climb up into the attic. There was a small area with a window just wide enough to squeeze through and they would climb onto the roof together. It was hardly a balcony, more of a flat piece of roof than anything else, but it had been an exhilarating place to go to when they were kids. The first thing they would do is find their stars in the sky and then they would find each of their family members.

The last time they did that Sirius had been twelve, almost thirteen, and it was the summer before Regulus’s first year at Hogwarts.

It was a much tighter squeeze now, Sirius thought as he crawled up into the attic. He absently wondered if Kreacher cleaned up here because Rose started coming here or if he cleaned it as soon as he decided to help out around the house. The last time Sirius checked this area it had been covered in thick mounds of dust that he hadn’t even wanted to touch.

The window Sirius had seen a thousand times before was pushed open, leaving a gap just wide enough for a more in shape adult to fit through. He crawled his way across it with more difficulty than he’d like to admit, but he got the job done. As he dusted off his pants— though there was no dust in sight— he glanced across the rooftop.

Rose was sitting on a small lip of the roof, eyes trained on the sunset in front of her.

Sirius crossed the short distance between them and took a seat next to her, looking out at the mosaics of oranges, pinks, and reds that streaked across the sky. It was silent around them, animals no doubt going to sleep for the night and the wards around their home silencing the sounds of the Muggle world around them. He wondered if it was the view Rose liked or just the quietness of everything.

He looked at Rose, scanning her face as she continued watching the sun slowly disappear. She and Harry, while still looking very similar, were slowly starting to grow into themselves. The softness of youth slowly but surely leaving their faces and their bone structures making themselves known. They’d grow into their height soon enough, though likely neither of them will ever be as tall as they could’ve been due to the years of malnourishment they had dealt with.

Harry was going to look a lot like James; always had and still would. His hair was as wild as ever, his skin steadily getting tanner in the summer sun and his eyesight just as poor, but there were differences. His nose was more rounded and smaller, Lily’s nose. His jawline wasn’t as sharp as James’ was but it was still distinct. He had Black hands though, long thin fingers, piano hands one of his relatives once said.

Rose was looking more and more like a Black. Her nose pert, her jawline sharp and skin perpetually pale. She had the Pureblood heir expressions down pact, something that had Sirius feeling amused considering she was practically a Muggleborn with how her and Harry were raised. Her hair was more like Blacks than Potters, not wild like James’ but still wavy, like his own.

Both twins had rather Pureblood like features, not a surprising thing considering two of their parents were Purebloods and Lily herself had an elegant bone structure for a Muggleborn. They had high cheekbones and wide eyes, the latter of which made their already impressive eye colour even more noticeable.

Sirius spotted movement just behind Rose on the roof and instantly spotted the girl's pet snake; Jörmungandr— or Jörmy, as Harry and Rose called him. The snake was long, almost three feet, which didn’t seem like much but when you added the fact that it was a highly venomous animal… scary. He had apparently been the size of a pencil when she first purchased him but clearly he had filled out, now about two inches thick and his scales glittering green in the setting sun.

Sirius had been quick to set the rule that he was not allowed to be in his room— much to the twins’ amusement. Kreacher had been beside himself with glee when he realised that both kids could speak to the snake, making sure that the Jörmy was well taken care of and well fed.

He wasn’t unaware that his parents, had they been alive, would’ve been bragging to everyone they knew about the twins’ gift. It was rather ironic that Sirius brought in the heir that his parents always dreamed of, considering he was so far from what they wanted that he wound up running away all together.

Sirius would be proud of Harry and Rose no matter what. If Harry wanted to be a pro Quidditch player or a Gryffindorish hero, or a weird guy who sold socks in Knockturn Alley. Just the same as with Harry, he’d be proud of Rose no matter what she did. If she wanted to study Ancient Runes for the rest of her life or gather all the snakes in the world and take over the universe, or if she made the choice to go the rest of her life never saying another word.

“Why don’t you like talking, Rosie?”

Sirius spoke the words quietly, but in the silence the question rang loud and clear. He knew the story Rose gave, and perhaps he believed it to a certain extent, but he found it hard to believe she could be silenced by fear of anyone else. He didn’t mind that she didn’t speak, not at all, there was just this voice in the back of his mind telling him to ask.

Rose was a force to be reckoned with, just like her mother had been. Sirius was absolutely certain that her silence was one of her own logic and reasoning and not because someone cowed her into it.

She looked over at him, staring at Sirius with an indecipherable expression before looking away again. As the two of them descended into silence again, Sirius thought she wasn’t going to answer his query—

“When we were younger, me and Harry were very similar,” she said quietly, not looking away from where the sun had long since set and the stars were now coming into view. “Not just in looks but in behaviour as well.

“We were well aware that the way our relatives treated us was unfair— we could see the difference between the way they treated us and the way they treated Dudley— and when we were younger, we’d take a stand against it more often.” She swallowed tightly, her gaze finally darting downward to the small square below between each of the houses.

“There was one day in particular where I was just so... indignant about something they did—” She gave a dry laugh and shook her head. “I honestly can’t even remember what it was they did that day...” Rose tilted her head back, looking up at the stars with a solemn expression. “Our relatives didn’t always get physical with us— or at least nothing beyond tugging on our arms to move us along faster— but that day— I just wouldn’t let it go—”

Sirius felt his hands clench into fists as he listened to her speak. He’d never forgive himself for going after Pettigrew. He should have made sure Harry and Rose were safe first and then did what needed to be done.

“I don’t know if it was because I was a girl— he got over that quickly enough— but Vernon didn’t take his anger out on me...” Rose whispered after a few long minutes of silence. “That was the first day they ever laid a hand on either of us like that and it always seemed like the worst.

“Later on, after they threw us in our cupboard, Harry fell asleep straight away— but I didn’t. I stayed up all night... I was scared that if I closed my eyes for even a second— when I opened them my brother would be—”

Rose broke off, squeezing her eyes shut and her hands clutching the edges of where she was sitting. After what felt like an eternity, she finally looked at Sirius, her expression blank for the most part, but her eyes pained.

“Harry got hurt because I didn’t know how to keep my mouth shut,” she said surely, her lower lip quivering slightly. “So, that night, I promised myself I wouldn’t say another word. Not unless it actually mattered and especially not around my relatives.”

Sirius’s heart ached for Rose. Ached for her seemingly logical thinking that was so flawed when it came to her own emotions, her own feelings. “How old were you when this happened?” Sirius asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Six.”

His jaw clenched at the number, but he forced himself onward and asked—

“Your cupboard?”

Rose pursed her lips and gave a small shrug. “Before our Hogwarts letter arrived our bedroom was a cupboard under the stairs. Kind of like Kreacher’s.”

A feeling of white-hot rage surged through Sirius at that bit of information. The Dursleys lived in a four-bedroom house, he remembered seeing it in his lawyer's notes on the family. They forced two kids to live in a small, crowded cupboard while two bedrooms remained empty upstairs?

He pushed that feeling aside for now, making sure to meet Rose’s eye as he said what he needed to say.

“First; what happened that day was not your fault.” Sirius said firmly, in a voice that broke no room for argument. When Rose opened her mouth, no doubt to refute his claim, he spoke over her. “No, Rosie. If he was willing to hit you then, he was always going to be willing to hit you. It had nothing to do with whatever happened that day; it was always a matter of when with that brute.”

He waited a beat for her to nod once, though she didn’t look entirely convinced. That was okay for now, Sirius would get it through her head eventually.

“Second; I promise you will never have to go back— you'll never have to see any of those beasts again if you don’t want to.” Sirius said this in an irrefutable voice. He meant it, absolutely, he’d take Harry and Rose and run as far from this place as he could if he had to.

Rose stared at Sirius for a long while, scanning his face for any signs of deceit or lies, and finally nodded, ducking her head down so he couldn’t see her face.

Sirius wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her shoulder, not saying a word as he felt her lean towards him or when he felt her shoulders start to shake with silent sobs. Sirius knew this was something she carried with her for years, no doubt never even told Harry considering the boy’s reasoning for her silence was always ‘she’s not much of a talker’.

The two stayed up on the roof for another hour, neither one speaking, until finally their hunger and the realisation that Harry would soon be looking for them brought them inside.

It was progress, as far as Sirius was concerned. Rose opened up to him, trusted him enough to tell him something she clearly never told anyone else. He wouldn’t push her to talk, never really planned to, but at least he had a better understanding on why she chose silence.

“Harry! Rosie! Let’s go!”

Sirius was standing in the main parlour, a watch in hand as he looked at the time. Glancing at the archway he waited for the twins to show with a slight frown. They weren’t typically tardy, especially not with something they knew was going to happen.

Dumbledore had sent him a message a few days ago asking to speak with him, and Sirius saw no reason to say no. Remus had work today and Sirius didn’t want to leave the twins home alone, so the two were tagging along on a trip to Hogwarts.

When Sirius heard the shuffling of feet on the floor, he looked up to see Harry and Rose slowly walking into the room, hands clasped together. Rose looked as put together as ever, though the incessant tapping of her fingertips of her free hand suggested she wasn’t as calm as she was making herself out to be. Harry, on the other hand, wore his nerves as obviously as a Hippogriff in a china shop.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked, feeling concerned.

Harry shrugged. “Nothing,” he said in a very poor casual voice.

Sirius glanced between the two, pocketing his watch and turning to face them fully. “I’d really like for you to tell me what’s bothering the two of you.”

“How come you’re going to talk to Dumbledore?” Harry asked in turn, chin jutting out slightly in his own stubbornness.

Was that what had the two acting so strange?

“He wanted to speak with me,” Sirius informed the two honestly. “He didn’t say why though, but I saw no reason to refuse.”

Harry frowned, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke again. “He’s going to want you to send us back to the Dursleys.”

Ah, Sirius thought. Crossing the room with slow careful steps, Sirius stopped in front of where the twins were hovering in the archway. Placing a hand on each of their shoulders he waited for the two to meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he said when he sensed they were going to be stubborn about this and their eyes darted up. “I don’t care what Dumbledore has to say, I will not send you back there. He can lay out all the twisted logic in the world and I still wouldn’t do it.”

They didn’t look convinced. “What if he makes you?” Harry asked worriedly.

Sirius snorted. “Dumbledore can’t make me do anything,” he said surely. “I am your guardian, your father through blood rituals, not even a man like Dumbledore can contest that.” He shook their shoulders teasingly, a grin on his face.

He got matching smiles and an eye roll from Rose in return.

“Come on,” he said, stepping back towards the fireplace. “We’ll take the scenic route.”

Brows furrowed slightly, the two followed behind and understanding alit their features as Sirius tossed the Floo Powder into the flames and called out, “Three Broomsticks Inn!”

The three of them quickly climbed through and Harry had his customary toss out of the fireplace, Rose and Sirius helping him up with amused expressions. Those turned into outright laughs as Harry began muttering under his breath about means of travel in the magical world.

With a brief greeting to Madam Rosmerta, the three headed out to make the trek up to Hogwarts. Sirius easily told the twins tales of his Hogwarts years, regaling them with stories that they were both eager to hear. He spoke of what they did in their spare times, the different courses that their parents had favoured and everything in between.

Harry and Rose hung on every word, not interrupting the man’s continuous stream of words. So engrossed in his stories, they hadn’t realised that they reached Hogwarts or that the nerves that had been bubbling in their stomachs all morning had all but disappeared. It was quick to swarm back though as they climbed the steps into Hogwarts, both twins fiddling with their hands, unable to hold each other’s as Sirius was between the two of them, an arm around each of their shoulders.

The twins barely heard Sirius’s words any longer, his voice now a buzz in the background as they wound through the halls of Hogwarts. In no time at all they were coming up on a familiar gargoyle statue and they felt Sirius squeeze their shoulders.

“Wait here, okay?” He instructed softly, letting go of them both and spinning around to face them properly. He scanned their faces and could see the uncertainty clear as day. He tried to give them a smile of reassurance but knew enough to know that they wouldn’t stop worrying until they got back home.

“We passed a bench in that hall,” Sirius offered, jerking his chin in the direction they came from. “Why don’t you sit there and wait for me.”

Hands now clasped together, he got twin nods as Rose tugged a reluctant Harry back where they came from. Sirius watched them for a moment longer then decided to get this meeting with Dumbledore over with.

“Lemon Drops,” Sirius shot off to the gargoyle, watching on as it hoped out of sight and a staircase was revealed. Climbing upwards, Sirius’s mind wandered back to all the times he’s come up here in the past—

Usually, James was with him.

He gave a swift knock upon reaching the door to Dumbledore's office, stopping for a beat to wait for the quiet “come in,” he received.

Dumbledore's office was the same as ever. A large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it was the shabby looking Sorting Hat and a beautifully gleaming sword.

Sirius clenched his jaw at the sight of it.

“Sirius, my boy.” Dumbledore greeted pleasantly from behind his desk, gesturing with an open hand towards one of the chairs in front of him. “I admit, I’m surprised you didn’t come through the Floo.”

Dropping into a chair, Sirius leaned forward with a half-hearted shrug. “Thought I'd take a stroll through Hogsmeade on my way here. It’s been a while since I saw it in all its glory.” He frowned for a moment and absently added on. “Not counting my brief stay there last year— I didn’t exactly do sight-seeing then.”

Dumbledore nodded easily enough, accepting the explanation with the same air of serenity as he did everything else around him. Clasping his hands together on top of the desk in front of him, Dumbledore eyed Sirius for a moment in silence.

“Did Harry and Rose make the trip with you today?”

Sirius nodded. “Remus was busy, and I didn’t want to leave them alone, so they joined me. They’re waiting in the hall,” he said, jerking his thumb backwards lazily. “So, I’d appreciate moving this along, no offence intended, Albus.”

Giving a genial smile, Dumbledore said. “Of course, of course.” Glancing off to the side, he eyed Fawkes’ perch, the flame-coloured bird was preening himself in silence, ignoring the presence of the two wizards entirely.

“As you are aware, I re-established the Order in wake of recent events,” Dumbledore said, his head still facing Fawkes but his eyes far off. “There are a few new members; Kingsley Shacklebolt, Andromeda’s daughter, Nymphadora, and Molly and Arthur too, as you know. All those who were a part of the original Order have since rejoined— barring you, of course.”

Sirius nodded as Dumbledore looked in his direction once again, peering over his half-moon spectacles at him.

“Our base operations have yet to be established,” Dumbledore said quietly. “We have had a few meetings at the Burrow, but I do not think the wards surrounding the Weasley family home are at all sufficient enough.

“I am assuming you have added more protections to your family home,” Dumbledore commented as Sirius sat back in his seat. “I can’t seem to remember its location, so I presume the Fidelius Charm was added to its wards.”

Sirius hummed quietly. “Yup,” he said casually. “Didn’t want to take any chances with Harry and Rosie’s safety.” He absently wondered how long Dumbledore was going to tiptoe around the subject; though which subject he was tiptoeing around, Sirius couldn’t say for sure. The Order’s base, Harry and Rose’s relocation, Harry and Rose in general or—

“Voldemort hasn’t made any plays as of yet,” Dumbledore said, cutting off Sirius’ train of thought. “I suspect he’s planning to lie low and achieve some goals out of sight. He will, of course, eventually free his most loyal from Azkaban. I hope by then Cornelius will be willing to see the truth.”

The Minister hadn’t let up on his smear campaign against Dumbledore and Sirius wondered if it bothered the man. His reputation had already been on the rocks after Rose’s interview and later the trial. As such, a great sum of people who probably would’ve taken his word on things before have been put off by back-to-back scandals.

Dumbledore sighed, pulling his hands out of sight and nodding faintly to himself.

“Are Harry and Rose aware of what will be coming?”

“They know that there’s likely to be a war,” Sirius said. “I know Rosie’s probably researched every detail of the last one, broke it down for Harry no doubt, and Harry saw firsthand what Voldemort was like.”

Dumbledore tilted his head, leaning forward and tenting his fingertips together, resting them under his chin. “Perhaps it would be wise for Harry to speak about his side of things.”

Sirius shook his head straight away. “I’m not making Harry talk about anything he doesn’t want to talk about, and he doesn't want to talk to the press about this.”

A frown graced Dumbledore’s face. “It is vital that people know he is back, Sirius—”

“They do know,” Sirius said, cutting the man off. “They just don’t want to believe it.”

They wanted to stick their heads in the sand and cling to their happy and safe lives. It didn’t matter if Harry said anything on the matter; the same thing that was happening to Dumbledore would happen to him too, and Sirius had no plans on letting that happen.

He already had his lawyers working on suing every publication that used the twins’ names, everyone who made a profit from their story, taking advantage of the fact that they had no one to stop them from using their names. Harry and Rose’s bank accounts would be swimming with gold by the time he was finished with them all.

More so than it already was, that is.

They had been pushed around enough. When Dumbledore was their guardian, he did nothing to stop the dramatization of the twins' lives, even after they joined the magical community and were so obviously uncomfortable with it. For all his talk of putting the twins with their Muggle relatives in order to keep their childhood fame free, he truly threw them to the wolves when it came time for them to return to the magical world.

“Have you spoken to them about Voldemort?” Dumbledore asked instead of pursuing the previous line of topic.

Sirius’s brow furrowed. “Nothing truly beyond what they already learnt,” he answered slowly.

“Tom will surely come for them, especially Harry, he won't take kindly to him escaping in June.”

Scowling at the reminder of what happened to Harry, Sirius said. “Our place is locked up tight, no one but me, the kids and Remus can get in. Besides, I don’t see him making a move just yet, not if he wants to remain out of sight. Harry and Rosie are hardly inconspicuous targets.”

With a quiet hum, Dumbledore lowered his hands, his gaze facing upwards as he thought things over. “If you give the location of your house to a few Order members, we can station guards around it for extra precaution.”

Sirius was already shaking his head before Dumbledore finished his offer. “No, I’m not giving the location to anyone else.”

“We are talking about extra safety measures for both Harry and Rose, Sirius.”

“They’re plenty safe right now,” Sirius countered firmly, unwilling to budge even a bit. “No one can find their home, can’t even say its name, and we’re keeping scarce from the wizarding world. I doubt Voldemort's followers will be trailing Muggle streets just to look for the twins— besides they’d stick out like a sore thumb if they did.”

Dumbledore sent Sirius a look that he was vaguely familiar with. A look that made him feel like a stubborn teenager who was refusing to see logic.

He sat forward, making sure to meet Dumbledore's stare. “I’m only saying this once, Albus. Harry and Rosie are not getting involved in any way, shape, or form in this war. It will be over my dead body before I let them get mixed up in this.”

“They already are mixed up in this, Sirius,” Dumbledore reminded him softly. “Do you think Tom will leave them be? They need to be prepared.”

Sirius scoffed. “No, they need to be kept out of it. They need adults to stop dragging them into these messes.”

Year after year they got pulled into things, Harry more so than Rose as she had some self-preservation, but no more.

“So, what?” Dumbledore asked quietly. “Keep them hidden until Tom is gone? What if that takes years? And what of you? Will you stay hidden too?”

“I’m not getting involved either, Albus. I threw my chip into this war before and look what it got me,” Sirius said coldly. “Locked in Azkaban with not even the courtesy of a trial.”

Dumbledore looked down, a sad expression on his face.

“It is unfortunate what happened to you, Sirius,” Dumbledore said. “But we must not lose faith. We must fight, for if we do not the dark shall truly win.”

Sirius half wanted to laugh. It was these kinds of empowering speeches that got them all to join Dumbledore’s Order in the first place. The man had a way of swaying everyone the same way Voldemort did. Words carefully strung together in a way that made one feel stupid or cowardly for not joining.

“You know, Albus, there was a time where I would’ve jumped to join you after that,” Sirius said blankly. “It’s why I did in the past. But I’m a different man now, I have different priorities; more important ones.”

“Do you believe I do not make Harry and Rose a priority?”

Sirius sat back; his jaw clenched as he regarded Dumbledore carefully.

“Did you think Harry and Rosie wouldn’t tell me about their past years at Hogwarts?” He asked point blank.

Boy, had that been an infuriating conversation. The three of them sat at the table as Harry laid out their first two years at Hogwarts, Rose chiming in here and there.

“Harry could see it somewhat, Rosie definitely could,” Sirius went on. “The tests you threw at them year after year to see if they could survive. The number of times they could have died while you sat back and did nothing to help them.”

“Sirius—”

Sirius shook his head, waving a hand as if batting away Dumbledore’s excuse. “No, Albus. You know, you’ve always been too involved in the twins’ lives, and it was always at the wrong moments. The times they needed you, you were never to be found and the times they were finding their own way— there you were, sending them back to the start.”

He laughed bleakly, giving an ingenuine smile as he looked at his once headmaster. “You think I don’t know why you never pushed to get me a trial?” He asked rhetorically. “I’m not so much of a Black sheep that I can’t remember what my parents taught me about wizarding law. I know you could have called for my trial at any point.

“And yeah, maybe you did believe I did it; that I betrayed them. Maybe you were almost entirely certain I had. But the loyalty I gave you— the fact that I signed up for your cause the second I was out of school— should have, at the very least, got me a conversation.”

He sighed, glancing away from Dumbledore, not able to look at the man in that moment. “But you didn’t. You didn’t, because you didn’t want to risk even the slightest chance that I was innocent. Because you knew if I was, then those kids—” Sirius flung one hand out to the door, looking back at Dumbledore “— would have been left in my care. And you knew there was no way in hell you would convince me to send them to Lily’s bitch of a sister.”

He pushed himself to a stand now, feeling the fury that he had managed to keep under a tight lid finally bursting free. His chest tightening and his fists clenching as his heart thundered in his ears. “So don’t sit there and look at me like I’m a misbehaving child. Don’t sit there and try and dictate what is and isn’t good for Harry and Rosie. Do not— even try— to act like you have some moral high ground and use that to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do with my kids!”

Chest heaving, Sirius glared down at Dumbledore, ignoring the shocked stares of the portraits around them— one of which was a smug looking Phineas Nigellus Black, who was more than pleased to see Dumbledore get put in his place.

Dumbledore looked pained; his eyes sad as he stared at Sirius. It gutted Sirius to realise that he could not— for the life of him— tell if the man was genuine with these feelings or not.

Sirius didn’t think Dumbledore was an inherently bad man— not at all. But he did make dubious choices, he did make mistakes. He was a man who had been held in such high esteem for so long that it had gone to his head— he had slowly begun to equate what is ‘right’ as what ‘he wants’. Dumbledore was human first and foremost, capable of making mistakes like any other, but he was a pivotal figure in the magical world as well and had numerous enemies waiting for any sign of weakness in order to strike.

Anyone would crack under that pressure.

He was fallible, just as any other person was; people just forgot that because of the reputation that stood behind him.

“Let me make this clear right now, Albus.” Sirius said in a weary but firm voice. “You are done getting involved in Harry and Rosie’s lives. No more meddling, no more tests, no more talking to them beyond that of a student-headmaster conversation. If you even try to do otherwise, I promise you, you will find out exactly why the Black lawyers are so famously feared.”

“Sirius, the Prophecy said—”

Sirius scoffed. “The Prophecy? Fuck that prophecy! That prophecy is why James and Lily are dead!”

“Voldemort killed James and Lily,” Dumbledore countered softly.

Shaking his head in denial, Sirius countered in turn. “Voldemort was known to spare those who didn’t stand in his way. James and Lily were already planning to step out of the war until that prophecy dragged them back into it!” He leaned forward, bracing both hands on the edge of Dumbledore’s desk as he did so. “And I swear, Albus, I won’t let it drag Harry and Rosie into this as well.”

Dumbledore leaned forward too, his face practically screaming for Sirius to see reason. “Sirius, they are the only ones who can do it.”

Sirius straightened out again, shaking his head slowly. “No. They are the ones you want to do it. You had all these years, Albus. You knew he was alive. What have you been doing? Just waiting for them to get old enough?”

“We need to stop him,” Dumbledore said, not deigning to answer Sirius’s questions. “That is what we fought for— what James and Lily died for.”

Sirius froze.

“James and Lily died , so that Harry and Rosie could live. That is what they died for— not this war.” He spat out coldly, glaring at Dumbledore as he felt his anger practically choke him.

“And that will have been in vain if we do not get rid of Tom once and for all.”

Tension bleeding out of his frame, Sirius gave a silent huff of laughter. He could practically feel the realisation that this conversation would only keep going in circles crawling all over him. Sirius; unwilling to put Harry and Rose at risk, and Dumbledore; unwilling to look at any other option besides what the Prophecy stated. 

“Don’t worry, Albus.” Sirius said quietly, his eyes darting around Dumbledore’s steadfast expression. “I’m going to do exactly what Jamie and Lily would have wanted done in this situation.” Not waiting for a response, Sirius turned his back on Dumbledore, exiting the room and leaving the man and their conversation behind.

With swift steps, Sirius climbed down the winding staircase, willing himself to relax before he reached the hall. The last thing the twins needed was for him to come back angry or obviously upset.

The hall was silent when he stepped into it, and he made his way back towards the main entrance way, knowing he’d find Harry and Rose on the way. When he turned a corner, Sirius saw them seated at the bench he spotted on the way up. The two had their hands clasped together— of course— and Harry was an obvious bundle of nerves. His foot was tapping against the ground rapidly and his free hand was up to his face as he chewed at the corner of his thumb.

Rose wore her nerves a lot better, but Sirius could still see the signs.

They looked up as one when the sound of his footsteps reached their ears, both sets of eyes going wide with worry at the sight of him, and they quickly stood, stepping forward a few feet before stopping anxiously. As Sirius neared them, he smiled softly, and wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders, detangling their hands as he did so.

“Let’s go home,” he said easily enough, ushering their frozen forms forward with a relaxed expression. “I think Kreacher said he was making a stew tonight,” he added with a grin.

Merlin, he hated that elf, but he sure could cook when he wanted to.

Harry and Rose let out simultaneous breaths of cautious relief at Sirius' words, finally moving without need of him pulling them along.

Sirius frowned faintly in thought and, without looking at either of them, said, “from now on, if Dumbledore calls you to his office, you get a hold of me first and don’t go in until I get here, alright?”

Harry and Rose looked up at Sirius, taking in his uncharacteristically serious expression and shared a brief glance. Harry answered for the both of them, giving their godfather a quiet “okay” while they both wondered what it was that Sirius and Dumbledore talked about today.

As long as they weren’t being sent back to Privet Drive, they wouldn’t complain, they supposed.

Chapter Text

Life at Grimmauld Place carried on as it had before Sirius’s meeting with Dumbledore. Sirius did some paperwork and various other tasks that needed to be done, Harry flew around on his broom in the yard and explored some more and Rose slowly, but surely, made her trek through each book in the Black family library— the latter two taking breaks from their activities to do homework together.

Harry was relieved to say they were nearly done and would have the rest of the summer to themselves.

They received letters from their friends which were vaguely frustrating for Harry. Apparently there was a lot going on with Ron and Hermione— the latter of which was currently staying with the Weasleys. The annoying part was that neither one of them were allowed to talk about it in letters as it was ‘Top Secret’. Still Harry comforted himself with the thought that Ron would likely tell him everything once they got back to Hogwarts.

Rose still communicated with Marcus using the charmed book he had given her, and she received weekly letters from Adrian and Graham.

The Dark Lord apparently had yet to call forth anyone beyond his inner circle, and Rose wondered if he’d wait to gather his most loyal from Azkaban before calling a full-fledged meeting with his underlings.

Harry would have the occasional nightmare and both twins had taken to hauling their blankets to the middle sitting area in their rooms and sleeping there on those nights. He was getting better at dealing with both the nightmares and the guilt from not saving Cedric at the end of the school year— largely due to his conversations with Wendy.

The twins’ scars burned in infrequent bursts that had them both feeling on edge. It was nothing like when they saw the Dark Lord conversing with Pettigrew, but it wasn’t completely pain free either.  They decided not to dwell too much on this topic though— read; they ignored it all together and focused on other things.

Before they knew it the beginning of August had approached and Harry and Rose— for the first time since becoming a part of the magical world— slightly dreaded heading back to Hogwarts.

It would be nice to see their friends though. Given the tense times they were currently in, and the fact that Sirius refused to let the location of their house be known to anyone else, Harry and Rose hadn’t joined the Weasleys this summer. Usually by now they would be with them, or at the very least away from Privet Drive.

Only days after Sirius’s meeting with Dumbledore did their godfather find Harry outside just finishing off a quick fly about.

He sat on top of the stone steps leading down into the backyard, his feet on a lower step and his forearms draped across his thighs. Harry had beamed brightly at the sight of him and happily joined the smiling man.

Harry’s skin was a healthy-looking bronze colour, largely in part of the nutrition potions he had been on that brought his health to the level they always should have been at. He certainly never tanned quite like this when he worked in the gardens at Privet Drive all day long. The exposure to the sun also brought out the faintest hint of freckles along the bridge of his nose.

“Was it a good fly?” Sirius asked fondly.

Harry laughed. “Yeah, it was great!” He shoved his ever-growing hair out of his eyes— not even concerned about the scar on his face when he was at home.

Sirius chuckled at Harry’s enjoyment out of flying— faintly reminded of James at the moment. Mind you, James loved Quidditch more than the flying itself, even during the summers when he’d fly at home, he needed to at least have a Snitch flying about to really enjoy himself. Harry though, he seemed to love just being able to fly.

Looking around the yard, Sirius felt proud of how well put together it appeared to be. When he first came back here it had been overrun with unruly vines and bushes; it had taken far too long to clear it out and make it presentable.

“What’s your standing on this war, Harry?”

Harry glanced at Sirius in surprise. He hadn’t expected his godfather to ask that, no one else ever had.

A frown on his face now, Harry stared at the ground in contemplative silence for a few moments. “I think what Voldemort is doing— what he has done— is wrong. Someone has to stop him and... if it weren’t for Ro’, I’d feel like that person would have to be me.”

Sirius watched Harry’s face carefully. “Why do you think that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Harry asked rhetorically, not looking up. “I mean, we faced him time and time again, and in first year Dumbledore really made it seem like it was up to us.”

“Just because Dumbledore thinks it should be you doesn’t mean it has to be.”

Harry laughed half-heartedly, turning his head to face Sirius. “Let’s be real. Dumbledore’s probably one of the few that can get the job done, only he’s not doing it— he expects me and Ro’ to do it.”

Sirius clenched his jaw, anger coursing through him at the position Dumbledore so carelessly put Harry in.

“But?” Sirius prompted.

With a sigh, Harry turned to scan the backyard, his mind filling in the image of him, Rose, and Remus out here just the other day. “But fighting means the risk of dying. I don’t want to die by any means, but I’m not scared of it— haven’t really been for a long time.” Harry shook his head, looking at his godfather again. “But I can’t die. Dying means leaving Ro’ behind and I won’t— can’t— do that.”

He was careless before, in their first few years, not truly grasping the danger he was in. The consequences of their adventures. But after the third task, since seeing Cedric die in front of him, he realized how quickly a life could end.

He hadn’t known Cedric too well, but the brief and short friendship they had caused this ache in his chest to flare up whenever he thought of him. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel if he lost Rose, the one person he always had at his side. He couldn’t imagine how Rose would feel if he was suddenly gone.

“Rosie doesn’t want to fight,” Sirius said, the statement half a question that he already knew the answer to. Everything about Rose said she didn’t want any part in this war, and it didn’t take long to realise that she didn’t have high opinions of Dumbledore himself.

Harry smiled sadly. “Ro’s tired of fighting, Sirius.” He told the man quietly. “The one thing she’s fought for— her one great ambition— is getting us to a point in life where we don’t have to fight to get the basics in life.

“At Privet Drive we had to fight to get food, to get anything really, and we used to dream about a day where we wouldn’t have to do that. We used to dream of a world where we didn’t have to fight to survive. We thought that it would change in the magical world but—” Harry lifted his shoulders in a sad shrug, pursing his lips.

Sirius could fill in the blank. Ever since their first year at Hogwarts these kids had fight after fight, going against even Voldemort himself. It was ridiculous, the situation they were put into due to the actions and inactions of the adults around them.

“Are you going to fight?” Harry asked quietly, looking at Sirius with worried eyes.

Reaching out, Sirius pushed Harry’s hair back, laughing lightly at the way the action pulled at Harry's face. “No, Harry, I’m not. I gave my life to this war once before and I don’t have any plans to do it again.”

Harry thought he should feel more guilty at the relief that coursed through him at these words but couldn’t find it in himself to do so. Instead, he smiled, nodding in understanding.

The two had stayed there for the better part of an hour, making idle conversation with one another, before they headed back in. Harry told Rose all about their conversation not long after that and she had taken it in with a neutral expression. The subject hadn’t been brought up at all since then; the three occupants of the house enjoying the peaceful bliss they had finally managed to achieve.

And yet, there was a small part of Sirius that had yet to fully submerge into the life they were slowly building. That part—

Remus.

On the third of August the man had popped in for a visit, he and Sirius sitting together in the informal parlour. It wasn’t often the man joined outside of giving Rose Patronus lessons— what with him working with the Order as well— but he managed it that day.

Sirius was happy to have him over, listening to him talk about what he had been up to lately. Apparently Dumbledore wanted him to appeal to werewolves about joining their cause— or at the very least, staying out of the war altogether.

It was likely a useless endeavour, if the results of the previous war were to go by, but they had to try.

“How are Dumbledore’s newest recruits doing?” Sirius asked as he leaned back from the coffee table full of treats. An assortment of dainties, as well as a teapot and two cups, lay upon its surface between them. A great deal of them chocolate based as they were Remus’s favourite. Remus and Sirius had eaten their share and Sirius muttered quietly— knowing Kreacher would hear— that the old house-elf could remove them now.

No doubt Harry and Rose would enjoy them, both of whom were up in the library at the moment, the former likely napping.

“Kingsley is a valuable asset,” Remus said between a sip of tea. “He is highly respected in the Ministry, and to the Minister himself, so we are able to learn a great deal.”

Sirius hummed, nodding along. He remembered Kingsley after he turned himself in, he was the first person Amelia called over to her house in order to properly take him in. He wasn’t warm or soft by any means, but he was kind, not condemning him for his supposed crimes. 

“What about Dora?” He was curious about Andy’s daughter. Sirius only ever spoke to her one time and that had just been brief introductions. Sirius had seen Andy multiple times since he was cleared but Dora was already living on her own.

Rumour had it she was trained by Moody himself and it made Sirius grin as he remembered the hell he and James had given old Mad-Eye.

“She’s good,” Remus said amicably. “Her abilities will no doubt be an asset in the future… though she is fairly clumsy.”

Barking out a laugh, Sirius shook his head. Andy had told him all about her klutz of a daughter, he imagined Remus was being polite by saying ‘fairly’. As Remus let out a yawn, Sirius decided to peruse another line of conversation that he’d been trying to accomplish as of late.

“You know, there’s an empty room right upstairs.”

With a smile, Remus said. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius complained as he sat forward to get a good look at the man. “I’ve been trying to get you to stay with us for months, why don’t you want to?”

Remus placed his teacup down on the coffee table, watching absently as it disappeared almost instantly. “I wouldn’t feel right, this is your home; Harry and Rose’s home.”

Sirius scoffed. “It can be your home too, Moony. I know you’re a bit of a nervous nell around Harry and Rosie, but they’ll warm up to you quick as a flash,” he reassured him with a grin. “Just tell them stories about Jamie and Lily— especially Lily. Merlin knows you have more stories than me considering you were at least on civil terms with her all throughout our Hogwarts years.”

James and Sirius had been troublemakers to their bones, and while Remus was not nearly as sweet and innocent as he’d have people believe, (Merlin knew he was the most sarcastic arse Sirius had ever met) he at least somewhat followed rules. As such, Lily was on better terms with him than anyone else in their group.

Plus, the two were bookworms through and through, keeping that in mind it should’ve been easy for Remus to bond with Rose.

Remus gave a small smile, eyes still on the table between them, that quickly turned serious as he said. “Dumbledore think’s it’s not good for the twins to dwell on the past. It’s not healthy.”

With a sinking sensation that left Sirius feeling cold and detached, he sat back, clenching his jaw as he stared at Remus. 

“There’s going to come a time, real soon,” Sirius said coldly, making Remus dart his head up at once. “Where you’re going to have to make a choice between Dumbledore and these kids. I’ve made my choice and if I have to leave you behind to stand by it, then I will.”

Remus sat forward intently, a guilty expression on his face. “Sirius—”

Sirius stood, not wanting to hear what the man had to say. “Kreacher will show you out. I’ll see you for Rosie’s next lesson.”

Not giving his friend time to say anything else, Sirius turned and left the room. He climbed the stairs, a scowl on his face at how quickly Remus’s visit turned sour and was distantly aware of the sound of the front door closing. As he reached the staircase that would take him to the floor that once held his mother's portrait, Sirius stopped.

Rose was sitting primly on the stairs, both hands in her lap and her hair pulled back into what he assumed was a braid, only a few strands lingering around her face. She eyed him with a solemn expression, her gaze darting from his face to his clenched hands at his side.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius relaxed his posture and hands and took a seat on the top step next to Rose. He sat back, leaning against the railing and bringing one leg up in order to turn and face her.

“How much did you hear?” Sirius asked.

Rose just shrugged, tilting her head to the side in reply. Sirius swore he could hear her quiet, ‘all of it’ in his mind as he watched her. He had yet to fully grasp her silent way of speaking but compared to anyone else— barring Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Marcus Flint— he could understand her best.

He also knew she could hear his and Remus's conversation because he and Regulus used to sit in this very same spot to listen to their parents’ conversations.

“Are you mad at him?”

Sirius startled slightly at the question, firing off a quick, “no” as soon as her question registered. He hesitated as Rose lifted a dubious brow, clearly not believing him. “I’m... disappointed, more than anything else,” Sirius relented, not looking at Rose when he spoke. “I can understand the reasoning behind Remus’s choices— I know him well enough to know what led him to make them— but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m happy with them.”

Out of the corner of his eye Sirius could see Rose nodding her head, though her expression was still curious. Sirius felt his lips twitch at the sight.

“Remus was always a bit of a loner, not able to rely on anyone really before he started at Hogwarts. It took a while before he trusted us and even then, he had his moments.” Sirius sighed, his eyes flickering to Rose who waited patiently for him to continue. “He’s also a werewolf and their rights are— limited at best. There’s no way the Ministry would have allowed him to take care of the two of you— that's not even factoring in the reputation you had.”

When he lapsed into a silence that lasted far too long for Rose, she quietly prompted. “But?”

Sirius smiled sadly, scanning her face which so clearly wanted answers. Her eyes were firm but soft in a way that only she was able to manage. Rose and Harry, Sirius was quick to learn, were so similar in so many aspects. The most obvious— their desire to gather answers.

They went about it in different ways and at times searched for different answers than the other would, but their inquisitiveness remained the same.

“But I'm disappointed that not once in the twelve years since Jamie and Lily died did he reach out to either of you. I am disappointed that he spent a whole year teaching you and avoided even bringing them up. I am disappointed that all it took was a few words from Dumbledore for him to give up on what was his family— what could still be his family.”

He laughed brokenly, feeling a stinging in his eyes that he was quick to scrub away with a haphazard hand movement. “If the roles were reversed— if Remus had a kid and wasn’t around to take care of them— I know for a fact that me and Jamie would have done everything in our power to make sure they were happy.” Sirius glanced at Rose, his gaze darting to the scar on her throat that, like Harry’s, had remained a pinkish-red colour since the end of their fourth year and then back to her face. “We would have made sure they knew they were loved.”

Rose’s brow furrowed, a frown pulling at her mouth. She understood what Sirius was saying, it was the hardships of living in a world that was not black and white. People can do things that you understand but that hardly takes away the sting of their actions.

She was distant enough from it all that Lupin’s avoidance of her and Harry didn’t bother her— she knew it didn’t really bother her brother either. The man was stranger to them, they only ever knew him in a teaching capacity. Harry’s first reaction upon seeing him again was to call him Professor Lupin, nothing more familiar than a student-teacher title.

So, it wasn’t a problem to the two of them— not like it was to Sirius at least. The fact that Lupin didn’t keep in touch was not even close to the outright disdain offered to them by their actual blood relatives.

Sirius was Gryffindor at heart though, much like her brother, and he felt things to extremes. Had to for the amount of loyalty he gave to those he thought deserved it. Willing to put your life on the line as a decoy for your best friends; willing to live off of rats and risk a fate worse than death just to protect the kids of those best friends.

There was something else that was lingering on her mind though—

“You two were involved, correct?”

The surprised look Sirius shot her almost made her want to laugh.

“Wha—” Sirius couldn’t help but sit up in shock at the observation Rose made. “Is it that obvious?” He finally asked in a slow voice.

Now Rose laughed lightly. “Not to Harry, but I do tend to observe people more closely than the average.”

“A true Slytherin,” Sirius teased, grinning when he got an eye roll back. When Sirius didn’t offer anything else, Rose lifted a prompting brow. “We were,” he relented.

“What happened?”

“Life, I guess,” Sirius shrugged. “We had already grown apart before things got shot to hell— probably why it was so easy to believe the other was the traitor with us.” Sirius drummed his fingers on the floor as he thought back to the old days, the days where he and James theorized who it was that was betraying them all.

It still burned Sirius that the only time Pettigrew's name came up had been in a joking manner.

“Relationships are about meeting each other halfway,” Sirius told her quietly. “And Remus was always someone that needed to be coaxed into doing that. It’s an easy task when you’re kids still in school; when you live together for the vast majority of the year and take the same classes.” He drummed his fingers again, his mind thinking back to what went wrong— really, it was no one's fault; life, just like he said, got in the way.

“But when you get out into the real world; jobs, the war, and other responsibilities come into play. And if one person doesn’t want to make that reach on their own, then things... fall apart.”

It sounded like a cop out to Rose; claiming life got in the way. In her opinion, one person tried while the other didn’t try enough, plain and simple. In the back of her mind though, she could hear Harry’s voice pointing out; if you don’t let people in soon enough, you lose them. She shoved the thought away, ignoring the jibe as she looked at Sirius. When he met her stare, she lifted a brow in a silent question.

“I still do love Remus,” Sirius told her with a smile. “Always will. I just don’t think we’ll ever be what we once were. Too much has happened, we were different people then.” He pursed his lips as he leaned back against the railing behind him. “I hope Remus can find it in him to let someone love him one day, but for now, for my foreseeable future, I only have one priority— well two.” He added on with a grin shot towards Rose.

Rose rolled her eyes but couldn’t resist smiling. It had taken some time and while a small part of her couldn’t help but doubt things, she was starting to believe Sirius did want nothing more than to take care of her and Harry. Had even gone up against Dumbledore himself to do so.

Sirius eyed her for a moment, his grin melting into a fond smile. “Do I have to worry about your love life anytime soon, Rosie?” He barked out a laugh as Rose’s nose scrunched in distaste and she shook her head. “No need for the talk, then?” Sirius asked, his amusement growing at the topic at hand, but partly serious in his question.

Rose frowned, glancing down the staircase and twisting her hands together. “I’m not really interested in that stuff,” she eventually said, turning to look at her godfather again. “I don’t know about the dating part, most boys my age are irritating, but the stuff after that...”

Sirius nodded easily enough. “You’re Asexual,” he reaffirmed. When Rose shot him a surprised look he chuckled. “What? You think this old man hasn’t been around the block a few times? I know things.”

He got a laugh at that, Rose’s face breaking out into a beautiful grin.

She has Lily’s smile, Sirius thought to himself. The kind that had dimples appearing on her cheeks and her front teeth on full display.

“What about Harry?” Sirius then asked. “Do I gotta give him a talking to?”

Rose nodded so solemnly that Sirius could do very little to stop his burst of laughter. “Leave it to little Prongs to be as lovesick as Jamie was. I guess I can’t get off completely scot-free.”

“Wha’?”

Sirius and Rose looked up as one, just in time to see Harry climbing down the stairs, one hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and a confused expression on his face. Sirius grinned and shook his head. “Nothing, Harry.” He said, an all-consuming fondness filling his heart as he looked between Harry and Rose.

On a rather cloudy day in London— could be any day really— Harry, Rose, and Remus were out in the backyard yet again practicing the Patronus Charm. Sirius was up in his study doing whatever it was he did in there but occasionally would pop out on the study room balcony to see how things were going.

Rose had yet to manage anything other than a burst of silvery mist— which, although good, wasn’t going to be enough to stop a hoard of dementors.

It was Remus’s first day back since his not-really-a-fight with Sirius and he had shuffled in somewhat awkwardly— rather unneeded as Sirius greeted him the same way he always did. Since that sour conversation Harry and Rose had one outing with Sirius.

Rose had been reading in the library, or scowling at the ends of her hair really, when Sirius happened upon her.

“What’s the matter, Rosie?”

He got a frown in response as Rose tugged at the ends of her hair, raising her brows in question.

“Sure,” Sirius said easily enough. “We can go find a Muggle shop.” He glanced over his shoulder as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and it didn’t take long for Harry to pop into the doorway.

“What do you say, Harry?” Sirius asked, garnering a quizzical expression from the boy. “Wanna go chop that mop of yours?”

Harry lifted a hand to his head, dragging it through his hair and pushing it up at all ends. Having not gotten a haircut since before they started at Hogwarts his hair had grown a lot. Unlike Rose, whose hair grew down her back in waves, Harry’s seemed to grow upwards, defying gravity all together.

It hadn’t taken the three of them long to find a shop and Harry and Rose both left feeling much lighter now that their hair had been cut. Harrys still stuck up at all ends, but it wasn’t as tall as it once was. He also made sure to keep his bangs, not wanting to leave his scar on display for all to see. Rose’s hair, which previously reached the end of her back, was not just brushing the tips of her collarbones; something she was happy about as she was growing tired of her hair falling onto the pages of her book; regardless of whether she tied it back or put a braid in it.

While they were out Sirius took the chance to take the kids shopping for some Muggle clothes; neither having the opportunity to do so before then. Harry was thrilled to be able to pick out some comfortable clothes that actually fit him and Rose was glad to have a chance to buy girls clothes for a change. Not counting the wizarding clothes the pair have accumulated over the years, obviously.

They were dressed in said new clothes for the day’s session; both in a pair of dark jeans and a long sleeve shirt. 

Sue them, they weren’t the most unique dressers around.

About halfway through the session Remus called for a short break, giving Rose a breather. As Harry wandered over to the Owlery, smiling as he caught a glimpse of Hedwig's snowy wings, Remus moved closer to Rose.

“I imagine you have the same reservations about this charm as you did two years ago,” Remus commented quietly.

Rose frowned and inclined her head. Yeah, she still couldn’t wrap her mind around summoning a guardian angel for herself, it seemed like such a fairy tale concept. She thought over memories she’s lived through where she was in danger, and it was always her and Harry fighting against whatever was after them, no one helped— or if they did, they would still have to fight in some way.

She said as much to Remus, who eyed her in silent contemplation. “You have a rather brilliant mind, Rose, but perhaps it is the very thing that’s holding you back.” Rose’s brow furrowed and she looked at him in confusion, not understanding.

“You’re overthinking this,” Remus told her softly. “Instead of thinking of an exact memory of someone protecting you, think of the feelings you would have. Think about that... warmth that comes from knowing someone is looking out for you. The happiness that comes with it. Don’t focus on the actions but rather the feelings.”

Nodding slowly, Rose clenched her hand around her wand as Harry came back over and Remus stepped back. Harry absently glanced up and saw Sirius step onto the balcony, leaning against the railing and throwing a wink at Harry— getting a quiet laugh in return.

Rose thought over Remus’s words. She thought of those moments where she felt a comforting warmth. It was a feeling she usually shied away from, one she had long since told herself that if it came to her, she shouldn’t be hopeful about it. Now though; now she forced herself to embrace those feelings. Those moments where she knew it wasn’t just her taking care of Harry— taking care of herself.

Lifting her wand, Rose uttered the same words she’d uttered countless times over this summer.

“Expecto Patronum!”

She turned her head slightly as the blinding light made itself known and distantly heard Harry’s exhilarated laugh. Eyes squinting shut she missed how Remus froze and how Sirius straightened up from his lean against the railing in front of him.

When her eyes adjusted, Rose glanced forward and beamed at the sight before her.

It prowled back and forth, tail swishing behind it and leaving a silvery mist that quickly disappeared. If it weren’t for the blinding silvery colour of it, one would be certain that it was a grim-like dog.

Harry laughed again and was quick to pull out his wand, casting the same charm and releasing a silvery stag onto the lawn in front of them.

The once familiar sight had Remus’s heart clenching as he watched the stag and dog run circles around each other, jumping to-and-fro. Up on the balcony Sirius felt the same, though his pain at the sight was mostly overshadowed by the knowledge that his Animagus form— like James’ Animagus form was for Harry— was Rose’s Patronus.

He had his moments over the summer where he’d wondered if he was truly making a difference with them. Wondered if maybe it was too late to save their childhood, save their faith in someone taking care of them.

The fact that Rose, cynical, closed off Rose, did this was—

He grinned, laughing the same way Harry had upon first seeing Rose’s Patronus. Looking down he watched as the two forms disappeared and Harry ran over to tackle his sister in a hug, grinning brightly all the while. Rose laughed at his enthusiasm but hugged him back, nonetheless.

It had taken almost all summer, but they did it.

There was just one more thing Sirius wanted done before the twins headed back to Hogwarts. Pulling his watch out of his pocket, and glancing at the time, he decided it was too late now to do it today— he wouldn’t want to spoil this evening's mood now anyway.

Another day.

For now, Sirius would call Kreacher to make Rose’s favourite meal in celebration— something the elf would no doubt be happy to do— and he would join the three outside, happy to soak up the familial feeling that had slowly grown between them over their summer together.

At the beginning of the last week of summer break, Sirius asked Harry and Rose to get dressed in some wizarding attire and meet him in the main parlour. Harry didn’t mind wizarding clothes, although he did think Muggle clothing was a bit more comfortable, but he still had heaps of outfit options. Rose’s efforts to increase their wardrobe had obviously succeeded and since Sirius took them out into the Muggle world, they had an equal amount of Muggle clothes too.

Honestly, Harry didn’t get why one person needed this many clothes— but both Rose and Sirius had seemed so happy about getting them that he wouldn’t complain.

Harry wasn’t sure if the wizarding world had certain robes for certain occasions but the ones he picked out weren’t as decorative as the ones he wore to the Yule Ball, so he thought he was safe.

He had yet to fully embrace wizarding customs like his sister had but lately he was feeling more inclined to. There was a small part of Harry that still had a hard time believing any of this was real but now that he was officially living in the wizarding world year-round, he wanted to start learning more about what to do and not to do.

It was odd to Harry that Hogwarts didn’t have a class that taught Muggleborns and Muggle-raised Halfbloods about wizarding society— and he knew for a fact they didn’t because Hermione would have talked their ear off about it. Didn’t they want them to feel comfortable in this world?

Rose had recently told him that their birthday was the day before Lughnasadh—a word that had Harry saying “bless you” when she first said it. Another name for it was Harvest Eve or Lammas, the latter of which was much easier for Harry to remember.

Their birthday this year was one to remember though. They had gotten gifts mailed to them from Ron and Hermione, and Sirius had bought them some things as well. Kreacher baked their favourite cake— chocolate of course— and the three of them had sat around the living room eating it and talking.

It was, by far, the best birthday the twins ever had.

The day after their birthday, Rose wanted to do things to celebrate the wizarding holiday; Sirius had been a great help. Apparently he celebrated it every year growing up, and the Black family had a few traditions surrounding the event— as did the Potter family which Sirius was happy to tell them about.

“Lily had been all for learning this stuff,” Sirius told them as they each attempted to make homemade bread that turned out far better than Harry thought they would. “After she and Jamie got together and we graduated from Hogwarts, she made sure to do something for each of the sabbats— the major and minor ones.”

Kreacher had decorated the house with appropriate décor and Rose lit a candle and put together an altar. Early in the morning she dragged Harry through the greenhouse and backyard to look for things to put in the altar and then they started their attempt at homemade bread. For supper Kreacher made a small but delicious feast and that evening the three of them sat around a bonfire Sirius made in the backyard, talking about the new school year and plans for the upcoming months.

Harry loved every second of it and couldn’t help but wonder why Hogwarts didn’t teach it. Rose showed him what she found on the subject of wizarding holidays so far and from what he saw there were multiple ones that they would be in school for.

Though, to be fair, they did have a feast on Halloween— or Samhain— but they didn’t do bonfires or any of the other things that they could do. There was also the feast during the winter break, but Harry mostly heard people refer to it as the Christmas feast— until the Yule Ball last year he hadn’t even heard of the term Yule.

It seemed like a lot to miss out on, in Harry’s opinion at least, and he was glad his sister was curious about so many different subjects otherwise he may not have even celebrated any of them. He couldn’t help but wonder why Ron never brought the subject up either.

Nonetheless, Harry was full-heartedly ready to embrace his wizarding culture, clothing included. He still felt slightly awkward in robes when he wasn’t in school, but Rose, as he noticed when he reached the main parlour, looked perfectly at ease in wizarding wear. He saw her scan his outfit with a critical eye before giving a nod in approval and felt the slight tenseness in his shoulder ease while a smile crossed his face.

“Ready?” Sirius asked in an uncharacteristically serious voice. Harry and Rose exchanged a glance, Sirius hadn’t told them where they were going but they rightly assumed it was in the magical world. As one, they gave Sirius a nod and he smiled lightly.

Reaching for the pot of Floo Powder, Sirius smoothly tossed it into the fireplace, calling out, “The Ministry of Magic!” as he did so. The flames surged, turning to a glowing green colour and Sirius gestured for them to go first.

The three of them had a bit of an unsaid system for the Floo now. Rose would go first and wait to catch Harry while Sirius went last and helped Rose pick up her brother if necessary.

For all his skill on a broom, Harry seemed forever doomed to suck at other methods of wizarding travel.

They landed in a familiar dark, but grand, hall with a peacock-blue ceiling inlaid with moving gold symbols. Harry’s attention quickly went to his left where he could see the top of the statue he and Rose donated their Galleons to last summer.

Hands on their backs, Sirius quickly ushered the kids forward towards where the lifts were, past the golden gates, and into an empty one. It didn’t seem as crowded as the last time they were there— or at least, they could see directly in front of themselves instead of being lost in a sea of people. There were still quite a lot of people moving to-and-fro but, given that it was currently just after two, perhaps most Ministry workers were in their offices.

Rose and Harry watched as Sirius pushed the number nine once they entered; neither had noticed the numbered buttons last time they were here, though to be fair the lift had been crowded with people and the two of them were crammed in the back. As they scanned the lift Harry nudged Rose and pointed at the small and slightly faded sign with the floor numbers and names.

• Level 1: Minister of Magic and Support Staff

• Level 2: Department of Magical Law Enforcement

• Level 3: Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes

• Level 4: Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

• Level 5: Department of International Magical Cooperation

• Level 6: Department of Magical Transportation

• Level 7: Department of Magical Games and Sports

• Level 8: Department of Magical Education

Both twins lifted a brow when they realised there was no information for level nine and their curiosity increased as the lift moved downwards instead of up. Like last time, the lift creaked ominously and when it reached a stop the same cool female voice said, “Department of Mysteries,” and the doors slid open. They stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked in a whisper, the eerie surroundings making him quiet himself involuntarily.

Sirius smiled reassuringly. “I want to show you something that might answer a few questions you may have had.” He nodded in the direction of the plain black door at the end of the hall, silently encouraging them to follow him as he started walking.

Rose grabbed hold of Harry’s hand as they walked, wondering what it was that Sirius wanted to show them. Rose had tons of questions, it was hard to decide which one Sirius was trying to answer for them, though she assumed it had to do with the Dark Lord.

When Sirius opened the door they walked into a large, circular room. Everything in there was black including the floor and ceiling— identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue, their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor so that it looked as though there was dark water underfoot. In the middle of all this was a man with dark blond hair, dressed in neat robes embroidered with a decorative U on the breast pocket.

“Lord Black,” the man greeted with a nod towards Sirius.

Striding forward, Sirius shook the man’s hand. “Unspeakable Abbot,” he greeted him politely. “Thank you for getting things in order for us.”

Abbot shook off his thanks. “It’s no problem.” He glanced over at the twins and gave them a nod, his gaze lingering on their scars for a moment. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, heir and heiress Potter.” Harry gave an awkward wave while Rose just nodded back. Turning back to Sirius, Abbot asked, “should we get going?”

“Yes, I’d like to get this over with,” Sirius said with a shake of his head, stretching out one arm towards Harry and Rose, beckoning them forward with his fingers.

Harry and Rose expected Abbot to start leading them somewhere, but instead he seemed to brace himself while Sirius wrapped one arm around each of them and held on tightly. They both stiffened as a loud rumble was heard and the walls around them, doors and all, started spinning until they were a blur. It didn’t take long for them to slow to a stop and Harry shook his head, trying to dispel the dizzy feeling he had.

“Why’d it do that?” Harry muttered, hand to his head.

As Abbot strode forward to the door in front of them, Sirius quietly said. “It’s precautionary, to make sure we don’t remember which door is which.”

Rose lifted a brow; that was interesting. She glanced around the room, nothing really giving her a clue about this place while Sirius urged them forward, holding each of their hands in his own. Abbot pulled open the door and held it as he waited for them to go on through first.

Walking into the room they were immediately blinded by beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. Blinking their eyes rapidly, they glanced around as the rest of the room came to focus. Gleaming clocks, large and small, grandfather and carriage, were hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room. The room was filled with a relentless ticking like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps.

Harry was quick to spot a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room.

Abbot continued forward, undeterred by the room’s décor, and led the way down a narrow space between the lines of the desks towards the source of light.

Upon getting closer, Harry realised that the crystal bell jar was filled with a billowing wind, and it was only the fact that Sirius was pulling them along by the hand that kept him from going up to the jar to observe it closer.

Still, Harry watched avidly as a tiny, jewel bright egg drifted along in the sparkling current. As it rose in the jar it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draft, its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

Harry was certain Rose was just as amazed as he was about all this; she probably had a million questions.

Sirius lightly tugged Harry’s hand when he slowed down just as they passed the bell jar and pulled him towards where Abbot headed, to the only door behind it.

Abbot swiftly grabbed the handle of the door and pushed it open, revealing—

A high place. High as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

Harry and Rose both glanced at Sirius as he seemed to unconsciously squeeze their hands, but he did not meet their stares, instead looking at Abbot, who was murmuring quietly to himself.

Harry leaned forward to hear him more clearly and could make out the words, “row ninety-seven.”

Rose seemed to hear it too and the twins looked up at the end of the closest row. Beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure 53.

Abbot turned to the right and strode forward, Sirius still pulling them along after him.

Why were they here?

It was completely silent, save for the sound of their footsteps as they went on down the long alleys of shelves, the farther ends of which were in near total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelf. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown light bulbs.

As they got to the glimmering number ninety-seven Abbot turned to walk down the row. Harry and Rose were confused about where they even were, but Abbot seemed to know exactly where he was headed, his footsteps not faltering for a second. He came to a stop a little way down from the end and turned to face them, Sirius stopping abruptly while Harry and Rose narrowly avoided bumping into him.

"This one here,” Abbot said to Sirius pointing at one of the old, dusty orbs on the shelf. It appeared to not have been touched for many years and affixed to the shelf in front of it was a yellowish label.

Neither twin could read it, just being a bit too short and a bit too far away, but Sirius had a perfect view of the label, a frown gracing his face as he read it.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Abbot offered softly. “Call me when you’re ready to go.”

Sirius muttered a quiet thanks as the man left, finally letting go of the twins' hands and turning to face them. He scrubbed a hand over his face, an amplitude of emotions skittering across his face quicker than either one could identify them.

“I know you wondered why Voldemort went after your parents,” Sirius said quietly, his words slow and measured, his eyes flicking down as he saw Harry grab his sister's hand. “In your first year you said Dumbledore told you he couldn’t answer your questions— and if he had his way, he probably still wouldn’t answer them.” He shook his head and met both their stares, hoping that what he said wouldn’t make them feel guilty in any way. Hoping they wouldn’t try to blame themselves.

“Your parents, while at first fighting in the war, had planned to back out of it after your mother became pregnant.” Sirius told them, watching as Harry’s brow furrowed while Rose tilted her head. “Voldemort was known to spare those who stepped out of his way, especially if they were part of a Pureblood family like your father was.”

Harry frowned. “Sirius what does this have to do—”

“Your parents— the two of you— were dragged back into the war because a prophecy was made,” Sirius stated. He lifted his hands, gesturing around them vaguely, “This is the Hall of Prophecies.”

The two looked around with new eyes, scanning the orbs on each of the shelves, some glowing beneath the dust covering them, others dark and empty.

“The only people who can view a prophecy, who can remove it from the Hall of Prophecies, is whoever the prophecy is about.”

Harry and Rose slowly looked back at Sirius, the two searching his face for an answer both seemed reluctant to accept. Finally, Harry, having enough of hearing the story Sirius was telling, stepped forward towards the shelf with the orb Abbot pointed at.

He read the yellowish label right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:

S.P. T. to A. P. W. B. D.

 Dark  Lord and

(?) Harry Potter (?) Rose Potter

“It was about us...” Harry said numbly. “The Prophecy was about me and Rose. That’s why he came after us.”

“Voldemort was a madman in that First War, Harry.” Sirius said in a consoling voice. “He would have killed anyone if he thought they posed a threat to his power. Even if that meant two innocent babies.”

“What does it say?”

The two startled at Rose’s abrupt question, turning to face her and meeting her stoney expression.

Sirius stared at her for a moment then shook his head. “I never heard the whole thing, only what Jamie and Lily told me. They said it talked about two children being born with the power to defeat the Dark Lord; that it would put you in danger and that a spy had delivered part of the Prophecy to Voldemort.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Harry said slowly. “You want us to hear it.”

Sirius nodded. “I won’t dictate your life, not like Dumbledore did, but in order to make a sound decision you need all the information.” He lifted a hand quickly though, pointing between the two. “Keep in mind, you are currently underage and as long as that’s true you will not be going on any life-threatening adventures.”

Harry laughed half-heartedly at that. “What happens if we do?”

“I ground you.”

Sirius got a more genuine laugh at that, Rose rolling her eyes at the ‘threat’, which was fair— Sirius was hardly a strong-willed figure when it came to these two. A family guy at heart and, given the twins past experiences, even more reluctant to actually discipline the two.

He was just lucky that they were both so well behaved already.

Smiling softly, Sirius reminded them. “You don’t even have to listen to it— not if you don’t want to. Prophecies— more often than not— are self-fulfilling. They only come true if people believe they will.”

Harry nodded, glancing at Rose and lifting a brow in question. He got a rather sarcastic expression back, which— yeah, okay. Harry and Rose were the most inquisitive people around; Harry desperate to know the ‘why’s’ and Rose desperate to know the ‘how’s’.

With a gentle hand, Harry picked up the glass orb, cupping it between his palms as his thumbs wiped off the dust clinging to its surface. He felt Rose step up next to him, her shoulder comfortingly aligning with his, and with identical wide green eyes, the two watched as the orb began to glow brighter, vague shapes moving inside, and a hoarse voice rang out.

"The ones with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the ones with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...."

The shapes disappeared and the orb went back to the faint glow it had on the shelf. The silence seemed to ring around the three of them and Sirius didn’t rush the twins to speak.

Silently, Harry put the Prophecy back on the shelf, nodding almost absently to himself. He looked up at Sirius, who had a patient expression on his face, and felt a surge of appreciation for their godfather. Sirius, who already had some idea about what the Prophecy said but still was willing to do whatever it took to keep them out of the war.

Hearing it didn’t change anything, Harry was certain of that. Rose still didn’t want to fight, and Harry wouldn’t do anything that could put his life at risk— he wouldn’t risk Rose losing him. But it did explain a lot of things. It explained their first year, the journey through the trap door that seemed to fit aspects of their personalities far too well. Ron with the chess, Harry with the flying, Rose and Hermione with their logic and— as Rose pointed out to Harry the summer after first year— the first one would have suited Neville and his knack for Herbology.

Dumbledore wanted to see if they really were the children from the Prophecy, he wanted to see if they could handle it. Year after year they fought stuff on their own, risked their lives for others, and Dumbledore seemed happier and happier about what they did. They were turning into exactly what he was waiting for.

It left Harry feeling apprehensive.

Hagrid was certain that Voldemort was still alive, had said so when he first told them about him, and Harry was sure he got that opinion from Dumbledore himself. Dumbledore said that Voldemort would come back, return to power, had said at the end of their second year that his sources said where Voldemort was hiding even.

So why didn’t he try to get rid of him when he was still weak? Why did he wait so long to start making his stand against him? Why didn’t he tell more people that he thought he was still alive?

Harry felt a poke on his cheek and turned to see Rose staring at him in concern. He tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace. “I think we should go home.”

Rose scanned his face for a second, then nodded easily enough. Harry glanced up and noticed Sirius wasn’t in front of them any longer, but before he could muster the urge to panic, he saw him coming back down the row with Abbot alongside him.

Harry hadn’t even heard him walk away.

The journey back to Grimmauld Place was something Harry only vaguely remembered— he hadn’t even had it in him to ogle the strange time room when they went through it again. When they finally got back home Rose was quick to lead Harry to the couch not far from the Floo, pushing him to a seat and taking the spot next to him.

“What are Unspeakables?”

He tilted his head as his sister asked the question, mildly curious himself.

Sirius smiled fondly, like he expected Rose to ask about them, and sat in an empty chair. “They’re a rather top-secret sector in the Ministry. Quite a lot of people know of them but there aren’t a lot who know what it is they study— anyone who becomes an Unspeakable must swear an Unbreakable Vow not to reveal anything they learn while working there. Or so they say, I’m not exactly certain if that’s true.”

Rose frowned— Marcus explained Unbreakable Vow’s to her but from the brief glimpse she got of the Department of Mysteries she understood their need for security, Unbreakable Vow’s seemed the wisest course of action— or a Secrecy Contract. She shot Sirius a look again, silently urging him to continue.

“It’s no easy task; being accepted into the Unspeakables,” Sirius told her, leaning back in his chair. “You need high ranking marks in nearly every class, preferably Outstandings but they let some Exceeding Expectations slide.” He lifted a hand and began ticking off his fingers. “Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Astronomy are the big ones they watch for though— for obvious reasons.”

Both twins were listening to Sirius avidly know, Harry slowly coming back to himself as he heard about the mysterious sector of the Ministry.

“Lily almost joined them,” Sirius revealed, grinning at their surprised looks. “She was an easy runner for them; always loved studying anything and everything she could get her hands on.”

Harry smiled faintly at that, glancing at Rose out of the corner of his eye. Now he knew where his sister got it from.

“She never did though,” Sirius said quietly, his grin melting off his face. “The war being what it was she decided she wanted to focus on keeping her dueling skills to par as well as her potions.” He tilted his head and added in a slightly proud voice. “She wasn’t far from getting a Potion’s Mistress title, too.”

Rose lifted a brow. That was no easy feat from what she heard. It was easy enough to manage potions when one understood the concept but perfecting and creating your own potions was a whole other level of skill.

She was certain the Weasley twins could become Potion Master’s if they wanted to— Charm Master’s as well.

Sirius shook his head, dispelling it of thoughts from the past, and looked at Rose with certainty, his grey eyes soft and honest. “I think you’d do good there, Rosie. Unspeakables are all about studying the most obscure magic there is; Time, Love, Thought, Space, Death— I'm not sure what else, those are just the few I’ve heard rumours about, and I don’t know exactly what they’re researching when it comes to each topic.” He waved his hands about as he spoke, clearly pleased at the topic.

He did think she’d do good there. It hadn’t taken Sirius long to realise Rose had inherited her mother’s love for research— exceeded it even. He had been just a dog lurking in the shadows when he first made this observation, relying only on information from a half-Kneazle cat, and it was still clear to see. It’s why he got her the Black family book rather than buying something new like he did with Harry.

Harry loved to fly, it was in his blood, so it only made sense to get him the best broom the wizarding world had to offer.

Rose loved research, first and foremost, she filled book after book with topics she found interesting and the Black family researching book was a coveted thing, with people trying to replicate it for centuries with no luck. Sirius had been certain that she’d appreciate it more than anything else he could have gotten her.

“Dumbledore believes the Prophecy is true?”

Sirius faltered at Harry’s sudden question, Rose’s face turning serious as well as her brother finally put his thoughts back together.

“Yeah,” Sirius said with a slow nod. “He does.” When Harry’s face pulled into a frown, he was quick to sit forward, making sure to catch his eye. “Hey— that doesn’t mean anything though. Just because Dumbledore thinks it’s true— even if it was true— that doesn’t mean you have to do anything.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t,” Sirius said firmly. He watched as Harry’s hands twisted together anxiously in his lap. “Do you want to fight?”

“No.” Harry and Sirius looked over at Rose when she spoke, her voice unrelenting and cold. “As far as I’m concerned the only validity that this prophecy has is Dumbledore’s insistence on believing it.”

Harry shook his head. “We have the scars, Ro’,” he pointed out quietly. “He marked us.”

“I’m sure he marked a great number of people,” Rose countered easily enough. “Regardless, I am not risking my life, nor yours, when a man who had the power to do something while the Dark Lord was weak, sat back and did nothing as he waited for us to grow up.”

She made the exact point Harry had been trying to avoid thinking about— Dumbledore seemed to be sitting around waiting for them to do something and honestly? Harry didn’t know what he would even do. How do you stop someone who seemingly can’t die? Someone who has decades of experience in magic compared to his and Rose’s measly four years.

Part of Harry felt like Dumbledore thought he and Rose possessed some other worldly answer when truthfully, most of the stuff they did know they got from Dumbledore himself. It seemed as though Dumbledore let them run around searching for answers he had and instead of giving them the information they needed to do something, he sat back and watched.

It left Harry feeling irritable with him— and if that’s how he felt then he can only imagine how much it annoyed his sister.

This prophecy was just a prime example. Harry looked down at the rug on the floor in front of him as one of the initials on the Prophecy came to mind. A.P.W.B.D. Rose and Hermione had a discussion one year about Dumbledore’s full name, both baffled at its excessive length.

Dumbledore heard the Prophecy. He knew it before they were born. He knew it at the end of first year. And he knew it at the end of fourth year.

Yet, he said nothing.

“Either way,” Sirius said quietly, breaking Harry’s troubled train of thought. “You both are underage— still going to Hogwarts— so as long as that remains true, you will not be fighting.” He looked between the two of them, but his eyes lingered on Harry for a second longer. “When you’re seventeen and graduated the choice will be yours, but you should make it carefully. War is not something to be treated lightly and if you’re choosing to fight it should be for your own reasons, not because you think it’s expected of you.”

“Do we have a choice though?” Harry asked, looking up at his godfather. “And I don’t mean in a ‘I should do this cause it’s the right thing’ kind of way. I mean; Dumbledore believes in the Prophecy and expects us to do something; Voldemort believes in the Prophecy and wants to kill us to prove it wrong. Both sides of this war seem to want us involved, so how do we stay out of it?”

“You just do,” Sirius said evenly; and rather unhelpfully in Harry’s opinion. “You stay out of what’s happening— which I know is hard at times since people seem to want to bother you— but try your best. Don’t go following secret trails, don’t go looking for answers if some big mystery is going on.” He knew Rose could do this, while she was as curious about things as they came, she did have a sense of self preservation. Harry on the other hand... Harry would follow a trail of clues into the mouth of a dragon if it would get him answers.

Sirius blamed James.

“Worse comes to worse, we can try withdrawing from Hogwarts,” Sirius said, garnering twin looks of surprise. “There are plenty of other schools out there with reputations just as prestigious as Hogwarts.”

“It would be interesting to see how other countries teach magic,” Rose said quietly, a distant look in her eyes as she remembered the differences between Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons.

Harry frowned. “What about our friends?” He asked, thinking of Ron and Hermione for the most part.

“You can keep in contact,” Sirius said reassuringly. “Rosie’s friend Marcus was out of school this past year and they still kept in touch, correct?” He directed the last part at Rose getting a nod in response as Rose halted Harry’s still fidgeting hands. “This is all just ‘what-if’s’ though,” Sirius reminded Harry. “Nothing’s set in stone as of yet and maybe we can manage Hogwarts without getting too involved with this war.”

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes trailing back to the ground. He still had his doubts and there was this lingering voice in the back of his mind telling him he should be doing something. Mind you, that voice sounded like Uncle Vernon, and he was calling him useless for just standing around, so it was somewhat easy to ignore.

Regardless, Harry would stick by Rose. He trusted his sister and knew she’d make good choices; he knew she likely had a plan that would keep them out of the war entirely. He’d worry about things later on— maybe give it a year or two before he started trying to panic.

Glancing up, Harry looked at Sirius again.

“Can we have stew for supper?”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Yeah,” he said lightly. “I’ll get Kreacher to start it now.”

Chapter Text

The day before they were set to return to Hogwarts was a rather memorable one. Sirius spent the whole day with Harry and Rose, took them to Diagon Alley for some last-minute shopping— they already got all their school supplies a couple weeks earlier— and he had Kreacher make their favourite meal for supper.

He also had him prepare a snack for the train ride back to Hogwarts the next day.

This was the first summer that ended with them feeling reluctant to go back to Hogwarts. The castle was the first place they called home— still did really, though not as grandly as before— but it had its downsides as well. Life at Grimmauld Place was a dream come true, somewhere they felt comfortable and didn't have to hide parts of themselves or feel ashamed of themselves for some sort of reason.

They made a home for themselves here. Starting off having to get used to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, exploring and making their mark on the house. Harry and his infinite habit of napping in random areas all over the place, Rose leaving books on nearly every available surface once she was finished with them. The twins making a race out of beating each other down the staircase for meals.

Harry, the insane Gryffindor he was, would jump over the railing, falling rapidly down the square space between the upward turning stairs. It stopped being as effective once Rose started using wandless magic to halt his progress. On one memorable occasion the two had burst into the kitchen at the same time, unfortunately bumping into the plates of food that Kreacher had been moving to the table and sending them scattering to the floor.

Their godfather had sent them a look that screamed ‘why’, and the twins had silently pointed at each other in blame. Harry and Rose had shared an amused look as their godfather— with the help of Kreacher— started clearing up the mess muttering about how Mrs. Potter was probably having a good laugh at this.

The morning they were set to head to platform nine and three-quarters was a rather relaxed one, surprisingly enough. Perhaps it was because there weren’t about five other people making the journey with them this time.

Rose had shrunk their trunks and put them in her pockets and she and Harry made their way downstairs for breakfast.

Harry’s hair was as messy as ever as he walked down the stairs, rubbing at one eye with the back of his hand. The two never raced down for breakfast— both far too tired to be trusted with their typical tricks— so they leisurely descended the steps, following the smell of pancakes that had wafted up to them.

“Good morning, my darlings!”

One thing they had to give Sirius was that he was consistent. Didn’t matter the time of day— right before the sun would rise or long after it would set— he was always delighted to see them. One would think he’d tire of looking at them every day, but no.

Harry muttered a greeting as he crossed to the table and dragged a plate of pancakes towards himself.

Rose was at least more put together than Harry, sending Sirius a smile and grabbing the bowl of fruit from the counter, carrying it over to the table. Sirius followed behind, holding a tray filled with bacon and sausages.

“Eat up, kids!” He ordered happily. “Once you’re done, we’ll Floo over to the station.”

As Harry started adding stuff alongside his pancakes, he asked. “How come Ron’s family doesn’t just Floo there too? Wouldn’t it be quicker?”

That was true. Every single time the twins had gone with the Weasleys (which was every year so far) they always drove there, even the first time they went, before they even knew the family, they had gone in through the Muggle way.

“Probably to save money,” Sirius told them. “Floo Powder isn’t exactly cheap or to be used frivolously, and with as many bodies as they’ve got, I imagine they don’t want to use it if they don’t have to.”

Harry grimaced, feeling a bit guilty for not having considered that. He remembered back in the summer before second year when they Floo’d to Diagon Alley the Weasleys had looked a bit worried about the amount of Floo Powder they had. He distantly remembered the Weasley parents sending them through at a quick pace so as not to have to keep throwing more into the fire.

There were times that left Harry’s inside squirming with guilt and a lot of it revolved around the amount of money he and his sister had. The two had grown up with next to nothing while their relatives lived a rather cushy life and there were times that it made him feel rather sick that he was able to buy what he pleased whenever he wanted while Ron watched on.

He hoped that this feeling would wane somewhat as time went on— like the feelings of envy he’d had those first few years in the magical world, whenever he saw Ron with his parents or heard about his life growing up eventually did.

“C’mon, let’s get going.”

Harry glanced up as Sirius spoke, looking back down with surprise at his empty plate. He nodded either way, reaching out to down the last of his juice from his cup before standing up.

He was excited about this year, just as much as he was dreading it. Talking with Wendy over the summer had really helped him but that didn’t fully dispel the guilt and pain he felt over what happened to Cedric. She had warned him that going back to Hogwarts would likely stir up these feelings again and it made him wary.

Not to mention the Daily Prophet was still slandering Dumbledore— refusing to believe Voldemort was back— and Harry could still hear his sister's words to him about what to reveal about that night.

Portkey. Pettigrew. Cedric’s death.

He would listen to her advice on her word alone but adding in the fact that Sirius wanted them to stay out of things— which would mean staying out of the war, which in turn meant not bringing up Voldemort— had Harry deciding he’d keep his mouth shut about everything.

There was a faint part of him that was wondering if this would be easier said than done.

With one quick, but annoying on Harry’s part, Floo ride over, the three found themselves on platform nine and three-quarters. The sound of owls hooting and the murmurs of families saying goodbye quickly filled the air and Harry let out a happy sigh.

Harry and Rose were tugged aside by their godfather to vacate the spot in front of the Floo; a good idea really. Sirius glanced over at the Hogwarts Express, the red train gleaming in the morning sun, and turned back to the kids, his eyes brimming with emotions.

“You realise this is not our first year, right?” Rose questioned quietly, an amused ring in her voice. Harry huffed a quiet laugh and elbowed her side while Sirius shook his head with a grin.

“This is the first year I get to see you two off, though,” Sirius countered his voice just managing not to shake. He pursed his lips and gave them a small smile, cupping the sides of their heads. “Merlin, I wish I had been there for your first year. I wish Jamie and Lily were too, but—”

He broke off there, determined not to make this too emotional. Pulling away, he reached into his robes and pulled out two small, brown paper-wrapped packages, handing one each to Harry and Rose, both of whom sported confused expressions.

“I had to work on it a bit in order to get it to work the way I wanted,” he said and added absently, “And get another matching mirror.” Sirius shook his head, giving the twins a soft smile. “Your father and I had these when we went to school, mostly to keep in touch when we were in separate detentions.”

Harry laughed at that, Rose rolling her eyes with a smile.

“They’re mirrors for talking,” Sirius explained. “If you want to talk to someone you just say their name and they’ll get the call. I have the third mirror that goes with it.”

The two looked down at the packages and Harry gave a quiet huff, looking back at his godfather with a grateful look.

“I never liked my summers as a kid,” Sirius told them quietly, a melancholic look crossing his face for a moment. “The time between school years was always something I dreaded. But this year’s summer—” He broke out into a grin as glanced between the two of them. “By far one of the best I've had.”

He got twin beaming smiles in return, Rose not even bothering to hide her affection for their godfather. The man had quickly climbed up her list of people who mattered to her, slowly but surely gaining a position alongside Harry as someone she’d do anything for.

“Now go,” Sirius ordered with a laugh, pulling them into one quick hug before nudging them towards the train. “You know how to reach me. I’m just a call away. I’ll meet you back here for the winter break, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly, his smile having yet to leave his face.

Stepping away from their godfather, Harry and Rose shared a look and grabbed hold of each other's hand, making their way to the Hogwarts Express. It was the first time they boarded this train with a heavy feeling of reluctance swimming within them; it was also the first time they couldn’t wait to be back again— finally excited about who would be waiting for them when they returned.

This felt like a fresh start— or at least a change in things. Sure, no one knew what Voldemort was up to and Harry might be hounded by people looking for answers, but they now had someone else other than each other looking out for them.

Regardless of how things turned out, if the school year was a complete disaster, they had other options available. They had Sirius, who they were certain would offer them an out should things go south, and it was a thought that had both of them stepping onto the train with a smile, glancing over their shoulders for one last look at a waving Sirius.

Harry and Rose were quick to find themselves a compartment to sit in, the very last one at that, and were happy they didn’t have to haul big, heavy trunks inside with them like the vast majority of kids around the platform. Harry had wanted to go look for Ron and Hermione, but Rose pointed out that the Weasleys were usually late, and they arrived quite early this time around. This was true, and Hermione had said she’d see them on the train, so odds are they’d find them once they got on.

As such, the twins made sure to settle in, Harry grabbing the bag of snacks that Kreacher made and putting it on the seat beside him while Rose fished out the book she brought for the trip and Harry’s Quidditch Magazine, handing it over to him without looking up. Harry turned to sit with his back flush against the window while Rose watched on with an amused smile.

“So far, so good, right?” Harry asked with a grin.

Rose gave a small huff of laughter but nodded, nonetheless.

The two were quick to immerse themselves in their respective choice of reading material and the time for the Hogwarts Express to depart approached at a rapid pace. Harry and Rose were eventually pulled out of their hobby to pass the time and shared a momentarily concerned glance when the train began to huff and puff, slowly but surely pulling away from the station. Ron and Hermione had yet to find them, but they decided not to dwell on this too much, perhaps they found a compartment to put their things in first.

“Ro’?”

Rose hummed in acknowledgment, her eyes on her book.

“What if someone asks me about the third task?”

Now she looked up, taking in Harry’s pinched expression as he looked down at his magazine cover. “You tell them the same thing you told Fudge,” she said quietly.

“What if they want to know more?” Harry asked.

Rose pursed her lips. She could tell this was something that was really bothering Harry, he had even brought it up over the summer, but they hadn’t delved further into that conversation. When she let out a sigh Harry looked up at her. “If there’s anyone who is entitled enough to demand more information out of you, you tell them that you told me everything that happened, and if they want to know more, they are more than welcome to ask me.”

Harry smiled in amusement as his sister calmly laid out what to do. He couldn’t help but imagine people doing just that, coming up to Rose in the library and asking for details— she'd very easily just ignore their presence all together. “What if they ask why I need you to answer questions?”

Rose scoffed. “Harry, do you really hang around with people this nosey?”

He let out a loud laugh. “Gryffindors are a curious bunch,” he reminded her, before his expression grew serious again. “But honestly, considering what happened and everything Dumbledore’s been saying... people are gonna ask.”

“True,” Rose relented quietly. “But what happened was traumatic, especially for you. Regardless of what answers people want they have no right to make you talk about it. If they try to, tell them you only spoke about it the one time and you don’t want to anymore— you don’t want to keep reliving it.” She eyed Harry’s face, his downcast eyes staring holes into his hands laying in his lap. It was true, what she was saying. Harry only ever went into detail about what happened that first night, the day Dumbledore pushed him to talk about it.

To anyone other than her that is. He revealed far more to her over the course of the summer, and she never pushed or even brought up the subject, leaving it up to Harry.

“When it comes down to it, a classmate died,” Rose politely ignored the wince Harry gave when she said this. “This isn’t just some gossip for people to poke and pry at; someone lost their life and no one— not a single soul— has the right to demand answers from you.”

Harry glanced up at his sister, her expression firm and her eyes hard. She was always very unrelenting in her opinions, not letting anyone force anything from her. Her self-chosen silence was just one glaring proof to that— their lives at Privet Drive another.

The most recent one Harry became aware of was with Dumbledore.

Despite his— at times— oblivious nature, Harry did notice quite a lot. It was just sometimes he didn’t connect the pieces until much later. Harry spent a lot of time thinking of every move Rose made since they entered the magical world. Asking the goblins at Gringotts to make it so only they could access their account. Doing the article— in the most popular newspaper in Britain— about how their relatives treated them. Bringing up Sirius to Madam Bones.

Everything she did slowly, but surely, moved them out of Dumbledore's influence.

That told Harry one thing. Rose didn’t trust Dumbledore— not with their lives at least. When he realized that his mind went back to every slightly dubious incident that somehow involved the headmaster and each one morphed together to paint an obviously troubling picture that Harry didn’t fully understand until they went to the Department of Mysteries.

Dumbledore believed only they could kill the Dark Lord. He spent the last thirteen or so years waiting for his return— doing nothing himself to delay said return— and now was pushing the responsibility of his demise into the twins’ hands.

He said as much their first year. How Voldemort would eventually return and how it would take someone who was prepared to fight to stop him. Even back then, at just eleven years old, Dumbledore was expecting them to fight. Had stood aside while they did just that that very year.

Rose never liked having her future decided for her. She was never one to stand aside and let someone else choose what either of them would become— and despite what their relatives thought, she never let them do that either. Rose made plans after plans, always involving the both of them, and they all led to one goal: Harry and Rose living a happy and relatively stress-free life.

Not even Albus Dumbledore, arguably one of the most powerful and influential people in the magical world, would be able to stop her.

“Okay.”

His sister smiled when Harry finally said something, her eyes going soft before she turned her attention back to her book. The sound of a knock on the compartment door pulled Harry’s gaze from Rose and he glanced over as the door was pulled open.

A small girl with straggly, waist length, dirty-blonde hair and very pale eyebrows was revealed, and Harry couldn’t help but think that her protuberant eyes— while a very nice pale blue colour— gave her a permanently surprised look. She had a sense of oddness to her that Harry couldn’t explain, and he wondered if this is how the kids at their Muggle school felt about him and Rose. Perhaps it was the fact that the girl had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of butterbeer caps.

“Can I sit in here?”

She had a very dreamy voice and Harry spared a quick glance at Rose before giving her a nod.

Rose eyed the girl as she sat next to her, across from Harry, and opened the magazine she was holding and began reading it— upside down. She wasn’t sure why, but the action made Rose want to smile as she turned her attention back to her own book, well aware that Harry was probably staring by now.

“You’re Harry Potter,” the girl said, meeting Harry’s stare and making the boy startle.

Harry floundered for a second. “I am...”

“And you’re Rose Potter,” she said, turning her head to Rose who simply lifted one brow in reply, not looking up.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked her, bringing that wide eyed stare back to him.

“Luna Lovegood,” she replied in the same dreamy voice. “But everyone calls me Loony.”

Harry frowned. “That’s not nice,” he said slowly. His only reply was Luna lifting the magazine, still upside down, and reading it once more. He tilted his head to the side, trying to read the title of the magazine she was reading and mouthed the words, The Quibbler. Harry straightened and glanced at Rose who hadn’t looked up from her book at all during this exchange. He could tell she was amused— most likely at Harry’s awkwardness.

As the three lapsed into silence, Harry eventually turned his attention back to his own magazine and got comfortable in his seat. It wasn’t long after this that there was another bustle at their door, and it was opened once more.

“There you guys are!”

This time it was Ginny Weasley who opened the door, just behind her was Neville Longbottom clutching his forever escaping toad, Trevor. Ginny looked older, compared to the last time either twin had seen her. They didn’t really interact too much during the school year, especially not last year considering everything that happened— from the Tournament, to the case surrounding their relatives, and then Sirius applying for custody of them.

Rose noted that she was taller now, about Rose’s height which was tall for her own age considering Rose was older than her. (Mind you Rose wasn’t exactly winning any height contests) Her hair, still the same lush red colour, was halfway down her back and her face was losing the last of its softness. Her brown eyes were warm and pretty, and her face had more freckles than ever before— though not nearly as much as her older brother Charlie— but this was typical for each of the Weasleys after summer break.

Neville still looked as awkward as ever, hunched behind Ginny as he eyed them worriedly. He was a fairly tall boy, definitely still growing, but his timid nature had him forever crouching his would-be impressive stature.

“Mind if we sit here?” Ginny asked, stepping inside with a grin.

Harry laughed. “Sure,” he said easily enough, gesturing to the empty seats. “Where’s Ron and Hermione?”

Ginny plopped down next to Luna, offering the girl a quiet greeting that was returned absently, while Neville sat a spot down from Harry.

“They’re up in the Prefect compartment,” Ginny told Harry before she glanced at Rose. “I’m surprised you weren’t picked, Ro’,” she commented.

Rose smiled at the girl. She understood why Ginny would think that, if she was in any other House there was probably a chance of her being chosen. There were just two problems; first, Rose didn’t talk, which would make being a Prefect awfully hard, and second, Slytherin didn’t work that way.

Slytherin was a hierarchy, whoever was chosen as Prefect was just delegated with chauffeuring the first-years, chosen by the Head of House— Snape. They still followed the command of the Head of the Hierarchy and just because they got the title of Prefect, didn’t change their standing. Rose knew for a fact that little Malfoy was the fifth-year Prefect, as was Parkinson. The latter of which had her wanting to laugh— the girl had avoided her like the plague after their encounter in the common room last year which suited Rose just fine.

“I’m surprised Ron was picked instead of you, Harry,” Ginny went on, never one to be deterred by Rose’s lack of response.

Harry scrunched his nose. Over the summer he and Rose talked about the Prefect thing, neither one of them fully expecting the title. Sirius also told tales of his days at Hogwarts, speaking of Prefects as a horrid title that was inflicted on poor innocent souls— something that made Harry and Rose smile.

“I think I’ve caused way too much trouble to be a Prefect,” Harry admitted.

Ginny laughed brightly. “True,” she agreed, “but you’re also the one who saved everyone’s arses the most too.”

Rose nodded at that. She was mildly surprised that her brother hadn’t received a Prefect a badge and couldn’t help but wonder if Dumbledore didn’t give him one because he thought Harry would be too stressed out for the job. It was a redundant worry in Rose’s mind as Harry was not going to be fighting Dark Lord’s anytime soon if she had any say. She also didn’t think there was even a chance of Snape ever bestowing the title of Prefect onto her , even if she did talk.

Pushing the thought out of her mind for now, Rose reached over Luna to poke Ginny, raising a brow at her in question.

Ginny frowned for a second, before asking. “Ron?” When she got a nod, she immediately grinned and spoke. “He was thrilled at first, but he’s trying to act as if it's not a big deal now— after Fred and George got to him.” She laughed again and shrugged. “He got a new broom out of it though, so he can’t complain.”

“He got a new broom?” Harry repeated excitedly.

Ginny sat forward with an eager nod. “Yeah, not a new model by any means, but way better than what he was flying before. A Cleansweep.”

“Wicked.”

Giving a nod in agreement, Ginny glanced over at where Luna was holding her upside-down magazine. “How’d you guys meet?” she asked with a glance towards Harry.

“We just met a few minutes ago, Luna was looking for somewhere to sit,” Harry answered with a lift of one shoulder.

He got a quiet hum in response. “Luna’s in my year,” Ginny told the twins. “Except she’s in Ravenclaw.”

“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,” Luna said in a singsong voice from behind her magazine.

Harry glanced at his sister and could see her smiling, he faintly wondered what it was that was amusing her so much and if he had asked, Rose honestly couldn’t say. Perhaps it was because she had the same feeling Harry had upon Luna first arriving. That sense of strangeness about the girl that had her thinking back to their childhood and the kids who steered clear of them for that same reason.

“Luna’s family lives not far from the Burrow,” Ginny told them happily, smiling at the girl.

The group had lapsed into silence after that, and besides an unfortunate incident involving Neville’s newest plant— he was a well-known Herbology enthusiast at Hogwarts— not much else happened until Ron and Hermione arrived nearly an hour later.

Well— there was a very brief, and somewhat embarrassing on Harry’s part, visit from Cho Chang. Harry thought the girl looked even prettier than last year but wasn’t able to keep away the feelings of guilt that swam in his stomach at the sight of her. Harry had honestly wanted to get to know her more, perhaps even ask her out on a date, but was advised by Wendy that it would perhaps not be the best thing to do. He was still dealing with his own guilt and mourning after Cedric’s death and Cho herself was no doubt in a vulnerable place.

As such, Harry didn’t bother going after the girl when she left, didn’t let himself be disappointed as he knew that nothing was going to happen there anyways.

Seeing Ron and Hermione again quickly lifted Harry’s spirits though, the two instantly getting comfortable, and Ron, plopping himself between Harry and Neville, helped himself to some treats as they missed the food trolley.

“There’s two fifth-year Prefects from each house,” Hermione told them as she took the last empty seat next to Ginny, the compartment now split with the girls on one side and the boys on the other. “A boy and a girl, and the two chosen will be Prefects through to their sixth and seventh years too so there’s twenty-four total. Plus, the Head Boy and Girl.”

Harry frowned. “I hadn’t realized it continued on after fifth year,” he admitted quietly.

Ron made a noise and swallowed the last of his Chocolate Frog. “Yeah, Percy was given his badge before his fifth year and didn’t take it off until he got that stupid Head Boy badge.”

Ginny snorted, shaking her head in amusement.

“So, when he became Head Boy, they just got a new seventh year Prefect?”

Ron shrugged. “S’pose so,” he muttered as he tore open another Chocolate Frog then froze. “Guess who’s a Slytherin Prefect?”

“Malfoy,” Harry said incredulously.

“Course,” Ron said as he stuffed the Chocolate Frog into his mouth, shaking his head.

“And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson,” Hermione added on viciously. “How she got to be a Prefect when she’s thicker than a concussed troll...”

Rose snorted at that, her eyes still on her book.

“Who’s Hufflepuffs?” Harry asked and Rose glanced up, she hadn’t heard who the other Prefects were, so she was curious too.

“Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott,” Ron said through a mouth full of chocolate.

Fairly good choice, if you ignore Macmillan’s habit of placing blame without solid proof. Abbot was a fairly reasonable girl though, at least from what Rose heard.

“And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw,” Hermione chimed in.

“You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil,” a vague voice said.

Everyone turned to look at Luna Lovegood, who was gazing unblinkingly at Ron over the top of The Quibbler. He swallowed his mouthful of Frog.

“Yeah, I know I did,” he said, looking mildly surprised.

“She didn’t enjoy it very much,” Luna informed him. “She doesn’t think you treated her very well, because you wouldn’t dance with her. I don’t think I’d have minded,” she added thoughtfully, “I don’t like dancing very much.”

She retreated behind The Quibbler again. Ron stared at the cover with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds, then looked around at Ginny for some kind of explanation— something that reminded Harry of the times Rose would silently communicate and people would look to him for a translation. Harry was of the amused opinion that he was much more helpful than Ginny as she had only stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to stop herself giggling. Ron shook his head, bemused, then checked his watch.

What followed was Ron relaying his future plans as Prefect and Hermione instantly scolding him about abusing his position.

Rose agreed with Ron that little Malfoy would most certainly abuse his position, docking points from every House left and right but Gryffindor most of all. Honestly, Rose wouldn’t complain, she knew her House was a bit downtrodden about having the cup ripped from the grasp first year and losing out the next two years after that.

If he tried to constantly give her brother detentions though— she’d step in.

She was startled out of her thoughts by laughter, and while normally this wouldn’t startle her at all, Luna Lovegood’s particular bout of laughter was certainly attention grabbing. The sound of it startled Crookshanks, the orange cat hissing loudly, and Luna’s magazine slipped from her grasp and slipped down her legs.

Rose laughed quietly as Luna’s eyes filled with tears and she took gasping breaths of laughter and Ron’s expression slowly turned bewildered. Soon everyone was laughing more at the look on Ron’s face and Luna’s prolonged humour than the actual joke just told.

Harry’s attention darted to the magazine now open on the floor as Ron asked Luna if she was taking the mickey. He saw a couple of curious titles but one that amused him more than any other.

Sirius Black: Noble Lord or Singing Sensation?

Below that was a not at all accurate depiction of Sirius and Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of it, picking it up and turning it around to show Rose when she eyed him curiously. When she learned forward to see what had Harry so tickled, she grinned and reached out to take the magazine from him to read it herself.

“Anything interesting?” Ron asked as he eyed the twins amused faces.

“Of course not,” Hermione said scathingly, before either twin could offer a response, “The Quibbler’s rubbish, everyone knows that.”

“Excuse me,” Luna said; her voice suddenly losing its dreamy quality. “My father’s the editor.”

Rose winced. There were times where Hermione’s lack of tactfulness rivalled even Ron’s, and it almost always happened when she had a heavy disregard for a certain subject. She seemed to forget from time to time that just because she saw no use or credibility in something, it didn’t mean everyone else did too.

Third year's Divination incident came straight to mind.

“I— oh,” Hermione said, looking embarrassed, her face flushed. “Well... it’s got some interesting... I mean, it’s quite...”

Rose handed the magazine back to Luna quietly, as the girl glared at Hermione. She opened it swiftly, rifling through the pages, before resolutely turning it upside down and disappearing behind it once again.

For the third time on this trip the door was pulled open, and no one was surprised— though they were still annoyed— to see Draco Malfoy standing there between his two goons.

“What?” Harry said aggressively, before Malfoy could open his mouth.

“Manners, Potter, or I’ll have to give you a detention,” Malfoy drawled, whose sleek blond hair and pointed chin were just like his father’s. “You see, I, unlike you, have been made a Prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, “but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone.”

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville laughed while Rose smiled at her brother’s wit. Malfoy’s lip curled.

“Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?” he asked.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Hermione said sharply.

“I seem to have touched a nerve,” Malfoy said, smirking. “Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because—”

“Mind not blocking the hall, Malfoy?”

Malfoy jumped at the voice from behind him, he and his cronies turning around and coming face to face with Adrian Pucey.

“Pucey.” He said in barely masked surprise.

Adrian had grown yet again, Rose wondered if the boy would ever stop growing, and was now a towering figure, easily over six feet by now. His hair was combed neatly— the few stubborn strands still lingering near his eyes though— and his face was its custom resting-glare while his robes were in pristine condition.

“Your job is to patrol corridors,” Adrian said coldly. “Not to stand in one compartment visiting with Gryffindors.”

Malfoy drew himself up and while he was taller than a good percentage of their year— not Ron though, as the boy was always pleased to point out— he was still far shorter than Adrian himself. “I was simply informing—”

“I’m sure that badge you so diligently shined is enough to let people know of your status as Prefect.”

Face flushing an unattractive shade of red, Malfoy glared at Adrian, though his efforts were hardly as intimidating as he’d want one to think. “I’ll remind you, Pucey, who my—”

“I know who he is,” Adrian cut him off yet again, a slight smirk curling the edge of his lips. “Shall I remind you why I, now on route to Hogwarts, do not care?”

The five Gryffindors watched the two Slytherin’s with wide eyes that darted back and forth with each word spoken. Ron and Ginny were both trying their best not to laugh at Malfoy while Neville looked very uncomfortable at his spot next to the door, slowly edging closer to Ron.

Mouth snapping shut, Malfoy shot one last glare at their compartment then elbowed his way past Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom remained silent the entire time they were here but did not hesitate to bumble after the blond haired Slytherin.

Adrian watched silently as Malfoy stalked down the hall. When the boy disappeared from sight, he turned to face the compartment of mostly Gryffindors and his gaze trailed over the frozen forms of the familiar faces Rose Potter surrounded herself with, the unknown girl who was currently hidden behind an upside-down magazine, then to Rose herself.

“Mind if we talk?” He requested quietly.

The now seventh-year had grown far more familiar with Rose Potter, especially after Marcus graduated from Hogwarts. As he recognized the lingering signs of humour around her eyes and mouth when she stood to join him— something he would not have noticed three years ago—, he couldn’t help but reflect on his past attitude towards her.

He had once accused Malfoy of being blinded by his feud with the Gryffindor Potter to see things clearly, but he too had been blinded. Unable to see past the title of the Twins-Who-Lived and only seeing Rose as the Golden Girl everyone assumed she would be.

Slowly, over the years, he had come to realize that this was not the case.

More than once, Adrian couldn’t help but ponder over the fact that the Slytherin’s who attended school with her were fortunate she had no interest in them. They were fortunate that, as far as Slytherin ambitions go, hers was one that was fairly light.

A happy life for her and her brother.

What Adrian was sure of though, he thought silently to himself as he led Rose to the compartment he and Graham were sharing, was that people would soon see the real Rose Potter. The one hidden behind the silence she emitted.

The Dark Lord was back and would no doubt start enacting his plans and if— when— those plans affected Harry Potter negatively then Rose would strike. She’d break out every card she had, every secret she knew about all these Pureblood families, and she’d build herself and her brother an appropriate cover. She would put all the magic she learned, Dark and Light, to effective use and Adrian knew there would be truly little for anyone to do to stop her; least of all Albus Dumbledore.

That thought had Adrian wanting to grin.

He and Marcus had discussed at great lengths over the summer about how well Rose had painted Dumbledore into a corner. From her interview, to her new guardian, to the truth of the Dark Lord coming back. They knew and heard enough to know that Harry Potter had witnessed a lot, had personally witnessed the Dark Lord’s rebirth, but when the Minister himself asked he left the Dark Lord out of it all together.

Lucius Malfoy had been beyond confused when he told Adrian’s father this little fact.

Dumbledore wanted Potter to announce it to the world, to use his fame as good-will to get people to believe in the Dark Lord’s return and to get ready to fight. Except—Potter didn’t do that.

Something they knew had to do with Rose.

As the summer went on and they received articles after articles proclaiming Dumbledore to be losing his senses, to being a fame-hungry troublemaker, he and Marcus had all but cackled at the situation the man found himself in.

No doubt Rose and Potter’s names would be in there too if it weren’t for two things. First; the truth of their abuse at the hand of those filthy Muggles had everyone reluctant to badmouth them. Second; their transfer of guardianship to Sirius Black, the Lord of arguably one of the most powerful families in Britain.

Both of those were things Rose planned to have happen. From the interview that revealed the abuse, something Dumbledore was seen as directly responsible for, and that sparked the custody hearing and the removal of their care from Dumbledore to Sirius Black himself.

It was also worth noting that it was Rose who was directly responsible for Black even getting a trial to begin with, if rumours were to be believed.

There was also the news of the Blood-Adoption that had many Purebloods talking. The Potter twins had been Blood Adopted by Black; were Purebloods in every sense now. While before they hadn’t exactly been looked down upon— a Halfblood was certainly better than a Muggleborn— the fact that they were Blacks was something to be impressed by.

Adrian and Marcus had both wondered who the older twin was out of the two. The older one would get the Potter name while the younger would get the Black name. If Rose was the one in line for the Black family title then it would make her already intimidating background even more so.

He was certain she could make a lot of changes in the magical world if that was the case. That was if the Dark Lord didn’t manage to kill her or destroy the Britain magical community all together.

Adrian was quick to derail that train of thought for now as he reached his compartment, pulling it open and waiting for Rose to head in first. As the girl sat across from Graham, the boy offering a quiet greeting as she did so, Adrian swiftly sat next to him.

The two had worried after Marcus left— had worried before Rose’s fourth year started. They were told not to, that she would handle it, and boy was Marcus right.

Adrian wished more than anything that he was present when Parkinson pushed Rose just a bit too far. He had heard the stories of course, heard in great detail by those who had been there to witness the glorious event first-hand.

Parkinson had kept Rose’s name out of her mouth for the rest of the year and had become increasingly paranoid if Malfoy would have anything to say about Potter. She hadn’t even bragged or lorded her newest status of Prefect all too much so far either, sitting quietly in the Prefect compartment when they were informed of their duties if what his sources said were true.

The girl hadn’t been the only one to test things, though she was the only one dumb enough to do so publicly. Warrington had stated his opinion on the manner but that had been a quick resolve, the boy demanding a duel that was over rather swiftly, Rose not interested in playing with her food as some Slytherin’s tended to be.

Other than those two, everyone else fell in line pretty quickly. By the end of the upcoming year the plan was to have only Malfoy and his two goons unaware of Rose’s status in Slytherin.

“Malfoy’s overly large head is without a doubt going to get larger, now that he’s a Prefect,” Graham noted quietly as he glanced out the window at the hillsides they pushed through.

Rose smiled while Adrian snorted. “Merlin, I can’t wait for the little snob to find out.” He glanced at Graham and said firmly. “You better send me a memory of it as soon as it happens.”

The other two Slytherins laughed at that, knowing better than most just how irritating Adrian found Malfoy to be. To be fair most of Slytherin thought he was annoying, but he managed to push every one of Adrian’s buttons.

“Who’s older between you and your brother?”  

Graham looked over at Adrian when he spoke, before his eyes darted to Rose, also interested in the answer.

Rose frowned and shook her head. She didn’t know.

Adrian nodded slowly. Made sense she didn’t know, the Muggles she lived with likely didn’t know— didn’t care— and even if they had, they would have likely never bothered to mention it to either twin. Black probably had more things on his mind this summer than telling the twins who was born first.

He’d have to have the conversation soon though. Heirs would usually get their heirship rings when they turned sixteen and would slowly start learning what it took to be a family Lord or Lady.

“The Ministry appointed the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this year,” Adrian said quietly, dropping the previous topic as quickly as he brought it up.

Rose lifted a brow in question.

“She’s beyond insufferable according to my father,” Graham offered in reply. “Delores Umbridge. Apparently she enacted quite a few laws that make life much harder for non-human beings; goblins, trolls, giants and werewolves— to name a few.”

Rose's face pulled into a frown at the last one, something both had suspected. It was no secret that Black had been close with their previous Defence Against the Dark Arts professor who was later revealed to be a werewolf. It was assumed that the twins would be fairly close with the man too— or, in Rose’s case, close enough to warrant keeping an ear out for information like this.

While Black had been known to be a ladies’ man in his youth there were rumours that he and the wolf had actually been involved back then. Whether they still were was anyone’s guess.

In Adrian’s opinion if a past partner said nothing as he was carted off to Azkaban without a trial, you’d have to kill him first before he’d ever talk to them again. But if what he heard was true then Lupin had access to the Black family home, something that even Dumbledore didn’t have.

That was another thing lingering on a fair few people’s minds.

Was Black joining the war again? He had been a force to be reckoned with in the first one but so far nothing he has done has indicated that he’d be fighting again. In fact, it seemed more likely to be the opposite, what with him refusing to listen to Dumbledore whenever the man had a suggestion of any kind.

It was also said that he threatened to press charges against the headmaster— Merlin that would be great to see.

“She’s explicitly loyal to Fudge too,” Adrian told Rose, eyeing the considering look on her face as he did. “So, odds are she’s not a fan of Dumbledore and there’s a chance she’s not a fan of you or your brother either.”

This only made Rose smile and nod, not looking too concerned about it at all, not that either boy expected her to. The times they expected her to crack the most were always the ones where she seemed the calmest, even back in her first year when Marcus first planned to put her in her place.

That day almost seemed like a lifetime ago now.

“Anything else?” Rose prompted.

Adrian and Graham shared a glance. “Not something you’ll have to be particularly worried about,” Adrien said slowly. “But with the Dark Lord coming back you might get more people trying to take your spot in the hierarchy.”

“Likely only the more thick-headed ones,” Graham added. “Almost everyone heard what you did to Parkinson so they’d have to be pretty stupid to think they can win a head-to-head.”

Rose outright grinned at that— a sharp and ruthless thing— tilting her head in thought. She expected as much. The vast majority of the students in her House had parents who followed the Dark Lord, it only made sense, now that he was back, for them to oppose her. Someone everyone assumed to be his enemy.

She had plans regarding that particular thorn in her side. Weeks of scouring the Black family library had delivered substantial results; said results revealing just what the diary and locket were.

Rose could understand why Regulus Black sought to destroy it, the magic the Dark Lord partook in was some of the darkest and most forbidden kind in the magical world. Rose, for all her desire to learn about all forms of magic, would never dabble in this kind in a practical sense— she’d read about it, sure, but nothing more than that.

Soul Magic was not something one should take lightly.

As she was now in possession of two pieces of the Dark Lord's soul— she doubted they were the only two out there— she was in a rather favourable position. Now all she had to do was work out how exactly she would use this to secure her and her brothers futures. She would not just hand them over and take the Dark Lord's word at hand.

There was also the fact that she was heavily relying on the importance the man put into his own soul— hopefully even with his assumed level of insanity he could still manage a rational thought.

“I expect people to push, perhaps even more than one person at a time, but I'm not too worried,” Rose finally said to the two. “I imagine they’ll want to plan things out first and if all goes well, I hope to have that problem dealt with by Yule.”

It was the most she ever explained any of what she did to either boy, and the two accepted it with quiet grace.

“You want anything done about Malfoy?”

Rose shook her head. “If he bothers Harry too much, I’ll deal with it.” She told them softly. “I don’t care too much if he takes points needlessly from the other Houses; Slytherin hasn’t had a win since before I attended Hogwarts.”

The two grinned. It was hard for Slytherin to truly get a win with Potter in Gryffindor, he always managed to amass a great deal of points in the final days and while Rose also got the same amount of points Dumbledore always made sure to reward the other two Gryffindors in equal amounts too.

Perhaps Malfoy could put his annoying tendencies to use this year.

“That’s all I wanted to discuss,” Adrian said quietly, watching as Rose gave a nod and stood to leave without another word. It wasn’t until the sun started to set that the silence the two boys descended in was broken.

“What do you think will happen?”

Adrian glanced over at Graham, easily depicting the hints of worry in his mostly blank expression. Giving an uncharacteristic shrug, he said, “I’m unsure but we’re in this far. Marcus seems sure she’ll hold her own, and he knows more about her than anyone else…”

“We’re talking about the Dark Lord here.”

Adrian scoffed lightly. “We’re also talking about the girl who survived the Killing Curse and has faced the Dark Lord three times before the age of thirteen.”

Graham finally met his stare and nodded once in acquiesce to that. It was easy to forget Rose’s more impressive accomplishments, especially when focusing on a Slytherin Hierarchy mindset instead of an overall wizard mindset.

She faced him at the end of her first year, but they focused more on her holding her own against Marcus. She faced him at the end of second year, but they focused more on her Parseltongue abilities. She survived an attack by him as just an infant, but they focused more on Dumbledore’s actions following that event.

Either way, Graham couldn’t shake the feeling deep in his gut that told him this year was an important one. That this year would decide how the war— and they all knew there would be one— would play out.

They’d just have to wait and see.

Chapter Text

The returning feast was just like any other before, with its handful of differences here and there. One the kids noticed straight away was the lack of Hagrid's large form sitting at the Head Table. Another was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor; Delores Umbridge.

Rose didn’t like her. She hadn’t met her yet— but she could already tell, as soon as the woman spoke in that irritating voice of hers, that she wouldn’t like her. Merlin, part of Rose wished that she did so she could actually enjoy the woman interrupting Dumbledore during his speech, something if by the looks of everyone around her were to go by, no one had done before.

Her speech revealed just as Adrian and Graham had said, the Ministry was now interfering in Hogwarts affairs, assigning someone to keep an eye on things.

Oh, another new thing; the Sorting Hat’s song.

Rose often wondered how the magic on the thing worked, now more than ever. Did it simply listen in on Dumbledore’s conversations and heard him speaking of an upcoming war or could it truly sense that one was coming? Either way, it seemed to feel the need to warn them to stand together, straining the importance of it now more than ever before.

Rose never had any particularly interesting start of her years, mostly because she didn’t exactly attract drama of any kind. Harry on the other hand—

While Ron and Hermione began ushering the first-years together, Harry headed up to the dorms, thankfully accompanied by Neville as he did not know the password and surprisingly the boy did. When the two reached their shared dorm, they found their two other roommates already inside.

Dean Thomas, a lanky boy with an overall dark complexion and an easy-going personality, and Seamus Finnigan, a stockier boy with brown buzz-cut hair, were in the process of covering the walls beside their beds with posters and photographs. They had been talking as Harry pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw him. Harry had a faint sense of paranoia at the action but forced himself to ignore it.

“Hi,” he tossed out, moving across to his own trunk, and opening it.

“Hey, Harry,” Dean said, who was putting on a pair of pajamas in the West Ham colors. “Good holiday?”

“Yeah, actually,” Harry said with a smile spreading across his face. “Me and Ro’ moved in with Sirius as soon as school was out. Didn’t get to see much of anyone else but where we’re living now had plenty to keep us busy.”

Dean grinned. “That’s great!”

Harry nodded, his smile turning shy, and he quickly changed the topic. “How was yours?

“Mine was okay,” Dean chuckled. “Better than Seamus’s anyway, he was just telling me.”

“Why, what happened, Seamus?” Neville asked as he placed his newest plant— a Mimbulus mimbletonia— tenderly on his bedside cabinet.

Seamus did not answer immediately; he was making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry, “Me mam didn’t want me to come back.”

“What?” Harry said, pausing in the act of pulling off his robes.

“She didn’t want me to come back to Hogwarts.” Seamus turned away from his poster and pulled his own pajamas out of his trunk, still not looking at Harry.

“But— why?” Harry said, astonished. He met Seamus’ mother during the summer after third year, at the Quidditch World Cup, she seemed like a nice enough lady.

Seamus did not answer until he had finished buttoning his pajamas. “Well,” he said in a measured voice, “I suppose... because of Dumbledore.”

“What d’you mean?” Harry asked confusedly, his brow furrowed as he tried to think why Dumbledore would stop Seamus from coming back.

“Well... with everything that’s being said...” Seamus said slowly, still avoiding Harry’s eyes.

A sense of dawning came across Harry and his hands tightened on his pajamas. “She’s been reading the Prophet, has she?”

Harry felt the faintest feeling of gratefulness that his name had been kept out of everything— something he knew was because of his sister and Sirius. He can’t imagine how he’d be handling this conversation if it was him that Seamus' mother was being wary of. Although—

As Harry changed into his pajamas, and turned to climb onto his bed, Seamus spoke up again. “Look... what did happen that night when... you know, when... with Cedric Diggory and all?”

Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk, trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard. Their obvious curiosity left an unpleasant twist in his stomach, but he could hear a voice in the back of his mind that sounded just like Wendy telling him it was natural for people to want answers. Especially after something so shocking and unspoken of.

Harry looked at Seamus, his expression hardening despite what the voice was telling him. “You get that this isn’t some Quidditch match we’re talking about here?” He asked rhetorically. “Someone died.”

Seamus flinched back as though struck and snapped. “I know that!”

“Then why are you digging your nose into things like you don’t!”

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head and taking a step back— physically and mentally— from this current line of conversation.

“Hey– what’s going on?”

Ron stepped into the room, a bewildered expression on his face as he sensed the obvious tension in the room.

“Harry’s tryna have a go at me!” Seamus yelled.

“What?” Ron said. “Harry wouldn’t just do that.”

“Seamus was trying to get me to tell him exactly how Cedric died!” Harry snapped, glaring at the boy in question. Comprehension dawned on Ron’s face as he realised what they were all yelling about.

“I just wanted to know what happened!” Seamus refuted stubbornly.

Harry resisted the urge to tell him to go and read the Prophet like his mother apparently liked to do. He took a deep breath and bit out. “We reached the end of the maze— we thought the cup was a Portkey, so we grabbed it— then Pettigrew was there— the next thing I know Cedric is—”

Harry’s uneven stream of words stopped as he felt a hand on his arm and turning his head, he saw Ron staring at him with concern clear on his face. He swallowed down the lump growing in the back of his throat and shook his head.

“I’m not just going to talk about it with you like it's some piece of gossip.” He said firmly, his voice just barely managing not to shake. None of the other boys spoke, though he could feel all their eyes on him. “I told Ro’ everything that happened, so if you’re so desperate for answers then you are more than welcome to try and ask her to tell you.”

He could see Ron’s lips quirk up in amusement at the very thought and softly pulled his arm out of the redhead's grasp, stepping over to his bed and climbing in without another word. The rest of the boys silently followed suit, no one speaking another word as their curtains were shut and their lights were put out.

They definitely weren’t going to ask Rose about it.

The tense encounter wasn’t the only bump in the twins' start of fifth year.

When Harry and Ron got their schedules they were quick to bemoan at the terrible Monday they would have to start off with. Fred and George’s comment on how awful fifth year was doing very little to cheer them up about the rest of the year.

Honestly, Rose thought they were exaggerating just a bit on how hard the O.W.L.s were, mind you she only had to take one and not multiple different ones throughout a week, so maybe she wasn’t the best person to ask.

Harry had another run in with Cho Chang, which was awkward for two reasons. One, Harry was unsure how to talk to the girl without letting his past crush stir up and two, Ron proceeded to harass her about her favourite Quidditch team.

The latter of which resulted in Ron and Hermione bickering with one another, but what didn’t these days.

Snape’s class was as pleasant as ever, the man making sure they all knew that if they did poorly this term, they would no longer be taking his class— making a point to stare down both Neville and Harry during the speech.

Harry didn’t let himself worry too much. O.W.L. testing was done by Ministry officials and Rose spent time over the summer teaching Harry about potions— she did every summer but the fact that they had access to an actual cauldron helped a lot this time around.

So, when Snape assigned them all to do the day’s potion on his own, Harry’s wasn’t nearly as terrible as it could’ve been without his sister's help.

That did little to stop Snape from vanishing his entire cauldron in front of everyone.

Hermione was indignant on Harry’s behalf, going as far to say she thought he’d start treating Harry more fairly now that he was in the Order.

Now that was shocking.

“Snape’s part of the Order?” Harry repeated incredulously as he balked at Hermione from across the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Ron just nodded with wide eyes, his cheeks stuffed with food, as he seemed to silently scream, I know right!

“He’s on our side,” Hermione firmly pointed out in a whisper, though Harry thought it was rather unnecessary as there wasn’t really anyone around them. “I mean— I wasn’t expecting him to start being friendly, but at least to be polite.”

“Poisonous toadstools don’t change their spots,” Ron said sagely after he finally swallowed his portion of food. “I always thought Dumbledore was a bit cracked for trusting Snape— I mean who’s to say he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?”

Harry frowned at that while Hermione instantly started defending the man, silently tuning out his friends’ impending argument. He was absently wishing Rose were here, he knew she’d have a better theory as to who’s side Snape was really on. She was a Slytherin after all and beyond observant of people.

“Harry?”

He was pulled out of his pensive thoughts by the sound of Hermione’s prodding voice, shaking his head as he looked at his friend with raised brows. She must’ve been calling his name a few times if the slight look of impatience on her face was to go by. Harry scooped up some food and silently urged her to go on.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder before leaning in a bit more, Ron instantly doing the same. “Are you ever going to say anything? About You-Know-Who coming back?” Ron kept his eyes on Harry, avidly waiting for the answer.

Harry slowly shook his head. “No, I’m not,” he told them quietly. “It’s like I told Seamus—” he said mostly to Ron, “—I don’t want to talk about it anymore. To anyone really.” When the two just stare at him with incomprehension he sat forward too, his voice dropping into a murmur. “Look, Sirius doesn’t want me and Ro’ getting involved, with the war or the Order. Said he’d ground us if we even tried.”

Ron’s lips quirked up at that, which Harry would give him, Sirius didn’t exactly scream parental sternness.

“So, Sirius isn’t fighting either?” Hermione asked, never one to be deterred.

“No,” he replied. “He mentioned that Dumbledore was hoping to use our house as a base for the Order, but Sirius flat out refused.”

He was absently glad for that one, Harry wasn’t sure if he could’ve kept his curiosity— or as Rose would say, his nosiness— at bay if there were constantly people coming and going and whispering to one another in their house throughout the summer.

Hermione frowned. “Well, people should know, shouldn’t they?” She asked rhetorically. “They should know what’s coming, that a war is coming.”

Harry shrugged. “Dumbledore told everyone. It’s not exactly gonna change anything if I say something.”

“Yeah,” he said through a mouthful of food while he nodded his head. “Odds are what’s happening to Dumbledore will happen to Harry too.”

“They did try at first,” Harry said. “But Sirius threatened to sue and apparently people are very scared of the Black family lawyers.”

Now Ron laughed at that, Hermione scowling at him as he still had some food in his mouth.

The topic was dropped after that, Ron heading off to Divination while Harry went to go find his sister. The rest of the week continued on at the same type of pace and it was slowly sinking into them just how much work they’d have to put in this year. Harry was glad he had his sister as he was sure he’d be full on panicking by now.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Umbridge was truly a testament to Harry’s will to ‘not talk about things’. Apparently the class would be nothing but reading textbooks and no use of spells, which Hermione was quick to protest against. Umbridge had just quietly asked, with a smile that made Harry clench his jaw at the smug condescension it held, if they expected to be attacked in her class.

Harry thought it was a bit ironic considering four out of four Defence Against the Dark Arts professors he had in the past had in fact attacked him at one point or another. Not that he blamed Remus as that was more of the full moon's fault than the man himself.

He could tell Ron and Hermione both wanted him to say something, but he held his tongue, clutching Rose’s hand in his as he silently reminded himself of his standings on this war and his role in it. 

Which was no role at all.

Umbridge clearly thought he’d say something too as her eyes lingered on him multiple times while multiple people from class questioned her way of teaching. Needless to say Harry was more than happy when the class ended and they got to leave.

The rest of the classes were a lot more bearable than Defence Against the Dark Arts, though Care of Magical Creatures was distinctly Hagridless much to their disappointment and worry. Most of the professors were stressing how much they needed to apply themselves this year and Harry was mildly relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one stressing as he saw other fifth-years furiously studying in the libraries and common room.

On a more awkward note, he had some people come up to him and proclaim that they believed him about Voldemort— first Luna Lovegood and then Ernie Macmillan. Harry had very awkwardly made no reply to their proclamations before making a swift exit from the general vicinity.

“I didn’t know what to say!”

Rose smiled at her brother in amusement as he retold what happened. She, Harry, Hermione and Ron were all sitting around a back table in the library, stacks of books open around them as they tried to get some homework done.

If the schoolwork wasn’t stressful enough, preparing for this year’s Quidditch games was already upon them and Angelina Johnson— the new Gryffindor Captain— was truly channeling Oliver Wood’s old style of captaining. On the brighter side Ron had been made Keeper for their team, though the boy was terribly nervous about the whole thing in general.

This news was made a bit sour when Draco Malfoy and his two goons showed up at their practice and proceeded to heckle the team, Ron in particular.

Other news, Umbridge was now Hogwarts’ first High Inquisitor, which Harry didn’t even understand to begin with. Though Rose told him it was a fancy way of saying the Ministry doesn’t trust Dumbledore and wants to question his every choice and action.

Honestly, Harry would be so bloody annoyed if he were the headmaster. He couldn’t imagine going day after day with the most popular newspaper in Britain slandering and making snide comments about him and now the Ministry placed one of their own in Hogwarts. Even going as far as to give her a position of power too.

He would have been unbelievably stressed if he had to deal with all that on top of doing their fifth-year course work.

His grade in Potions was a mess, though Harry was certain it was more for Snape's dislike of him than any genuine grading. The last class Snape had given them their grades if they presented their class potion as their O.W.L.s potion and Harry had received a D.

Learning about the grading system for the older years certainly was interesting, though Harry was left feeling down about his low mark, which was only just above the worst you could get. Rose had reassured him that his potion hadn’t been that bad, that it was high Acceptable, bordering on an Exceeds Expectations.

The only one above that mark was an Outstanding, and below the passing grade marks was P, for Poor, D for Dreadful and finally, T for Troll.

“I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking, letting her get hired!” Hermione said suddenly, making the other three look at her. It wasn’t the first time the bushy haired girl had said this, and likely wouldn’t be the last either.

Umbridge was still determined to keep Defence Against the Dark Arts as a reading only class and Hermione was nearing her wits end about it. Harry was quietly impressed at her refusal to back down, though he thought if she kept it up she’d be getting detentions soon enough.

The woman was also inspecting all the other teachers, coming into other classes to ‘observe’ as they taught the lot of them. Professor McGonagall’s class was one to remember, each of them eager for that day to arrive after they heard about the inspections.

“We’re never going to learn what we need to learn from her,” Hermione went on. She glanced at Ron before looking over at the twins. “You know I was just saying to Ron the other day… we’ve got to do something about her.”

“I suggested poison,” Ron said, getting an approving nod from Rose that had him grinning.

“No,” Hermione said, shooting Ron a sharp look. “We need to learn about defence, especially considering recent… events.”

Voldemort coming back.

“Well, what can we do?” Harry asked slowly. “Fudge was the one who gave her the job and as long as he’s paranoid about Dumbledore I doubt she’ll be replaced.”

“Well…” Hermione said in a nervous voice that had Rose narrowing her eyes at her. “You know I was thinking today… I thought that— maybe it’s time for us to just— maybe we do it ourselves.”

Ron frowned. “Do what ourselves?”

Hermione shot him an exasperated look. “Learn Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“You want us to do more work?” Ron groaned. “We already have so much of it already, ‘Mione.”

“This is more important than homework, Ronald!” Hermione said.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, while Rose stared at Hermione without offering any comments. “More important than homework?” Ron said incredulously. “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?” Harry snorted, Ron shooting him a sly grin, while Hermione waved an impatient hand at him.

“It’s about preparing ourselves!” Hermione said, and Harry saw, with an ominous feeling, that her face was suddenly alight with the kind of fervor that S.P.E.W. usually inspired in her. “We all know what’s waiting out there. It’s about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don’t learn anything for a whole year—”

“We can’t do much by ourselves,” Ron said in a defeated voice. “I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose—”

“No, I agree, we’ve gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books,” Hermione said. “We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we’re going wrong.”

Harry frowned and glanced at his sister who was sporting a frown now, then looked back to Hermione. “If you’re talking about Lupin—”

“I’m not talking about Lupin,” Hermione said. “He’s too busy with Order stuff and we’d only be able to see him during Hogsmeade weekends and that’s not nearly enough time.”

“Who then?”

Rose rolled her eyes, torn between amusement and exasperation at Harry’s slowness at piecing together what Hermione was getting at.

Hermione glanced at the other girl, and she could tell that Rose already knew what she meant so she looked to Harry. “Isn’t it obvious?” She said, “I’m talking about you and Ro’, Harry”.

Harry laughed outright at that, glancing first at Rose then at Ron, the former still staring at Hermione while the latter had a considering look on his face. “That's an idea,” Ron said.

The smile on his face slowly melted off, Harry slowly getting the feeling that Hermione wasn’t just trying to pull his leg. “Me?” Harry said, huffing a quiet laugh, still trying to play this whole thing off as some kind of joke. “I mean, I get Ro’, but even you do better in most classes than me, Hermione.”

“The only year I haven’t done better than you in Defence Against the Dark Arts was our third year, coincidentally the only year we were actually taught by a competent teacher.” Hermione refuted firmly. She sat forward, her eyes serious and face stubborn. “But it’s not just about tests, Harry! I mean, look at everything you and Ro’ have done!”

Harry shook his head. “Hermione, Sirius doesn’t want me and Ro’ getting involved in the war. I’m pretty sure that means don’t get involved in secret ‘preparing for war’ lessons.”

Hermione frowned. “Harry, people need to know how to defend themselves. As soon as we’re out of Hogwarts we’ll all be vulnerable.” When she saw that neither twin looked like they were going to budge on this topic she quickly changed routes. “Look, you don’t have to think of it as some ‘preparing for war’ club, it will be for studying. We’re in our O.W.L. years now, if we don’t put some effort into learning what we need to know then most people will fail!”

Rose pursed her lips. That was true. She glanced over at Harry, and he had a similar considering look on his face and when he caught her gaze, he lifted his brows in question. Rose furrowed her own and tilted her head, to which Harry scrunched his nose.

Throughout this Hermione and Ron waited with bated breath for either twin to speak.

“A study group,” Harry finally reaffirmed, getting an eager nod from Hermione. “I’ll think about it…” he said hesitantly. Hermione wisely dropped the topic then and there, clearly taking Harry’s hesitance as cautious agreement and not wanting to push the subject.

Harry still wasn’t sure if he would do it, part of him wanted to but he wanted to talk to Rose about it more before he made any actual commitment to the whole idea. He’d wait till it was just the two of them though and then get his sister to lay out all the pros and cons of the idea and they would make a decision together.

The first weekend of October was this year’s first Hogsmeade trip. Harry and Rose had discussed the whole study group thing at length, and both decided to go through with it. Though Rose did make the point that if she wanted to invite people then they couldn’t be discriminated against just for being in Slytherin which all three Gryffindors readily agreed to.

It helped that Harry and Ron knew that there was no way Rose would ever invite Malfoy and his cronies.

Hermione was quick to let a few people know about the club and get things in order, organizing their first meeting at the Hog’s Head Inn. Rose was immensely glad for the girl’s determinative nature as she had no intention of doing any of this, instead planning to meet up with Marcus at the Three Broomsticks Inn.

Rose was beyond glad to be able to see the older boy again. Since he had been too busy with personal matters to come to view any of the tasks last year, and Rose being hidden at Grimmauld Place this summer, she hadn’t seen the boy since the end of her third year when he graduated. They kept in touch though, talking at least weekly with the charmed book he had given her.

She kept him in the loop on a lot of things, even going as far as to tell him her decision to remain out of the upcoming war had not changed in the face of things. It was a lot harder to get an accurate reading on what he thought of this though, when she couldn’t watch his face when she told him things.

So, as soon as Rose split off from her brother, Ron and Hermione she headed straight for the Inn to wait for her friend, who she knew would not keep her waiting long. The place was busy, no surprise there all things considered, but she managed to secure herself a table near the back, ordering some tea for herself and a butterbeer for Marcus while she waited. The table was far cleaner than those in the Leaky Cauldron she noted absently as she watched Madam Rosmerta place the drinks down and slide a sugar bowl and creamer onto the center of the table.

Rose stared silently into her cup as she added her extras, stirring it idly, her thoughts spinning around her head as she struggled to put them in order. The sound of chair legs dragging across the floor had Rose looking up, just in time to see Marcus sliding into the seat across from her, offering her a smile in greeting.

Marcus looked, for the most part, exactly as he had the last time she saw him. Though his previously lithe form had filled out around his shoulders, he wasn’t by any means bulky. His hair was trimmed a bit shorter, likely not long enough to tie back anymore, but it still had a bit of length to it. His eyes were dark and if she were anyone else, he’d look like an intimidating figure. To Rose though, he looked like a familiar friendly face, bringing a soft smile out of her at the sight of him.

“How’ve you been?” He asked easily enough, one hand reaching out to drag his mug towards himself, while he flicked his wand around with the other, the noise of the pub silencing and Rose knew anyone nearby would no longer be able to hear them either.

Rose tilted her head with a small shrug, a grin pulling at her mouth as Marcus nodded along.

“So, is Umbridge still determined to not actually teach any of you this year?” He asked, laughing quietly as Rose rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“I suppose I’m used to most of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professors being a disappointment,” she said quietly. Honestly, for all that Hogwarts had such an esteemed reputation, there were quite a few members of its staff that were severely lacking.

Marcus lifted his brows in silent agreement. Hogwarts’ Defence Against the Dark Arts professors had been wanting for a great number of years, though they took a particularly sour turn after the twins arrived— that being that most have tried to kill either one of them; or both.

His gaze darted across Rose’s face as she stirred her tea some more, though he didn’t think it could get anymore mixed. He silently noted that her hair was a lot shorter now, her face far more defined; with her jawline sharper and her cheekbones high and prominent. Her eyes remained the same though, still that luminous green they had been when she was a little first-year.

“You and your brother are going through with the club then?”

Rose hummed. “Yeah, given that this is our O.W.L. year I agreed that it would be beneficial to at least have some form of learning when it came to spells.”

Marcus nodded, silently thinking that she had to be talking about other kids rather than herself and her brother. Merlin knew both twins were skilled when it came to defence magic and managed to obtain a vast understanding of the subject throughout the years.

“Adrian and Graham joining?”

“Yes, I brought it up to them just last week. They seemed a bit hesitant to the idea but eventually agreed.” Marcus smiled at that, he imagined neither one was eager to spend an evening surrounded by Gryffindors, but it was their loyalty to Rose that would have them backing her up, so to speak.

Not that he thought the Gryffindors would be confrontational, the vast majority seemed to like her well enough. He did wonder if it was largely because of her brother, as it was not like she spoke to any of them either. Though the Weasley family seemed quite fond of both twins, Merlin knew there were enough of them in Gryffindor.

The Weasley twins in particular had a reputation that likely left most reluctant to annoy them.

“I’m not sure who else Hermione invited though,” Rose mused aloud. “They’re all meeting at the Hog’s Head Inn right now.

Marcus frowned. “Why there?”

“I imagine because most people don’t go there,” Rose answered, taking a sip out of her cup. “We don’t exactly want anyone knowing about this group as I doubt Umbridge would be too happy to hear about it.”

“Would you like a refill, dear?”

The two looked up as Madam Rosmerta approached, a pleasant smile on her face and a mug in her other hand. She was looking at Rose and the girl nodded, smiling politely as she pushed her almost empty cup closer to the woman. Marcus watched silently as the woman left and Rose drew her cup back in front of her. She scooped two teaspoons of sugar out of the bowl and poured some creamer into her cup, going back to stirring it silently again.

He waited in silence for her to speak. The last few weeks he could tell that Rose had something she wanted to discuss but likely didn’t want to do so over letter. He felt a bit guilty that it had been so long since he’d seen the girl, his apprenticeship at the Ministry taking up most of his time for the last year, so he had readily agreed when she asked to meet today.

“I have no interest in this war,” Rose finally said, looking up at Marcus and scanning his face intently. “Nor do I plan to let my brother involve himself either.”

Marcus nodded wordlessly, not interrupting.

“Dumbledore wants us to fight,” Rose said slowly. “And while Sirius has been great about keeping us out of things, and keeping Dumbledore’s involvement in our lives at a minimum, I doubt the man is going to stand down. His main goal is to stop the Dark Lord and he sees me and my brother as a key role in that, therefore, there’s absolutely no way he’ll leave us be.”

It didn’t take a genius to see that Dumbledore had a borderline strange obsession with the twins, Marcus thought. Whether it was because of what happened when they were infants or some reason only he knew, was anyone’s guess. But from his obtaining guardianship over them— a highly dubious thing at best when it happened, but people were known to cave to Dumbledore’s wishes often enough— to his desire to keep the twins with their Muggle relatives even with what people now knew… Yeah, the man wouldn’t leave the twins be, had obviously put too much time into whatever plan he had to just drop it now.

“But he’s not the only side of this war.”

Marcus stared at Rose; his expression impassive as he easily read what she was getting at. “The Dark Lord is not known for his reasonability, Rose.” He said quietly. “And given the number of times you and your brother have gotten in the way of his plans… I don’t see him leaving you two be.”

Rose inclined her head in concession to that point but didn’t let it deter her. “Nevertheless, right now he’s the route that has the highest likelihood of working. All I need is a word.”

“A word?” Marcus repeated slowly. “You want to speak with the Dark Lord?”

“Yes,” Rose said outright. “The problem is the man likely has numerous wards keeping him hidden, so it’s not like I can just send him an owl, now can I?”

The older boy didn’t say anything for a long while, instead scanning Rose’s face to see how serious she was about this. Her expression was one he’d seen on more than one occasion, a determined one that would not be swayed in any way. “Your best bet is to go through Lucius Malfoy,” he finally told her. “He’ll no doubt be able to deliver a letter and he’s afraid enough of the Dark Lord to not speak about it to anyone— though I would make sure to stress this, if you manage to pass it on to him.”

Rose nodded in silent thanks.

“What exactly is your plan?

She didn’t reply straight away, instead taking another sip of her tea while she thought things over. She couldn’t exactly send a letter to Lucius Malfoy with the letter for the Dark Lord attached as Rose was sure that Umbridge was watching the mail. The woman was no doubt suspicious enough to do it.

“I’ve come across some information that I’m sure the Dark Lord will want kept quiet,” Rose finally answered quietly, her eyes flickering up to Marcus. “If we can just have a few words, I’m optimistic in the odds of me securing me and my brother a position out of this war.”

Marcus didn’t say anything for a beat, then spoke slowly. “So your plan is to blackmail the Dark Lord.”

Rose smiled lightly and gave a short nod.

The boy huffed in disbelief but shook off the desire to explain why this wouldn’t work. Rose was smart enough to know how hard this would be to pull off and if she was actually going through with it then what she knows must be important. Valuable.

“Just promise me one thing,” Marcus said seriously, leaning forward in his seat while Rose lifted a brow in question. “If you plan on actually meeting with the Dark Lord to discuss things then you’ll take me with you.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him when he said this. Marcus was not dense enough to think he could truly offer some sort of protection should the Dark Lord try to kill her, so the fact that he was still insistent on coming with her should she secure a meeting was oddly touching. They certainly have come a long way from her first year.

This in mind, Rose offered him a resolute nod in answer to his request.

Marcus left it at that, changing the topic to life at Hogwarts once again. They spent the next better part of an hour just chatting about anything and everything, Rose slowly talking less and less while Marcus filled in the voids of silence with his usual stream of conversation.

Eventually they were interrupted yet again, only this time by Harry and the others.

Rose eyed her brother's face, scanning it to try to get an idea on how things went while Harry offered a silent greeting to Marcus. Behind him Hermione glanced around them, looking somewhat paranoid at the crowds while Ron had a scowl on his face.

“I’m going to head out now,” Marcus said to Rose, after he gave Harry a nod. Rose looked at him and shot him a small smile that had his eyes crinkling at the corner though the rest of his face remained neutral.

As Marcus got up to leave his seat was quickly filled, as were the other two around the table Rose had snagged. Rose wasted no time in pointing at Ron while shooting her brother an inquisitive look.

Harry smiled. “Ron just found out Ginny is dating some Ravenclaw— Michael Corner.”

Rose huffed and lifted a brow at the boy, her face practically screaming, you really didn’t know?

“It’s weird!” Ron nearly shouted.

“Why?” Hermione asked without looking at the boy, her eyes on the bag in her lap. “You know, this is exactly why Ginny didn’t tell, she knew you’d take it badly.” She shuffled through her items for a few more seconds before pulling out a scroll and handing it to Rose.

Harry leaned back in his seat, nodding silently to himself before he offered Ron a shrug. “Yeah, it’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

Ron frowned at his friend. “You wouldn’t be like this if Ro’ started dating some guy?”

Rose didn’t look up at the sound of her name as she unrolled the scroll, taking in the list of names on the parchment. Hermione had told Rose her plan to keep anyone from speaking out, getting them to sign an unspoken contract that would give rather disastrous results should anyone speak about the club. It was a rather Slytherin thing to do and Rose had shot the girl an impressed look when she first brought it up. Mind you Rose would’ve had a more devastating consequence than having the word sneak displayed across one’s face in pimples and boils— but baby steps.

“It’s not like Ro’s really interested in people in general, and if she was it’s not like I could do anything.” Harry’s voice was saying.

Rose recognized most of the names on the list.

• Fred Weasley
• George Weasley
• Lee Jordan
• Ginny Weasley
• Neville Longbottom
• Dean Thomas
• Ernie Macmillan
• Justin Finch-Fletchly
• Hannah Abbot
• Susan Bones
• Lavender Brown
• Luna Lovegood
• Katie Bell
• Alicia Spinnet
• Angelina Johnson
• Colin Creevy
• Dennis Creevy
• Anthony Goldstein
• Michael Corner
• Parvati Patil
• Padma Patil
• Cho Chang
• Marietta Edgecombe
• Terry Boot
• Zacharias Smith

“Okay, forget about Ginny and Michael,” Hermione said, cutting off Ron from whatever he planned to say to Harry’s response. “What’s going on with Cho and you?” That had Ron shutting up, looking at Harry in interest.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked in confusion, glancing at Rose when she started rolling up the scroll.

“Dude,” Ron said incredulously. “She likes you; she keeps showing up and she was staring at you all through the meeting.”

Harry hadn’t noticed but couldn’t resist pointing out. “I’m one of the people that’s gonna be teaching this club, of course she’s gonna look.”

Hermione took the scroll back, shoving it back into her bag as she shot Harry a look. “Harry, don’t be dense, it’s obvious that she likes you.”

She just got a shrug in reply. “I don’t know what to say,” he said to the two of them, tapping his fingers against Marcus’s abandoned mug. “Nothing’s gonna happen there.”

Ron and Hermione frowned, shooting each other a look. “Mate, I thought you liked her,” Ron said slowly.

“I did,” Harry agreed. “I still do, kind of. It’s just— I talked about it with Wendy, and she made some really good points, I just don’t think it would be a great idea.” He pushed his hand through his hair as he shrugged again, flattening his bangs back down over his scar.

“Wendy?”

Rose smiled at the way the two spoke in unison, while Harry said. “Wendy’s our Mind Healer,” he gestured between him and Rose. “Considering… our lives up till now, Sirius thought it would be good if we spoke to a professional.”

Hermione looked surprised but pleased at this information, Ron just nodding in understanding. “So, you’re not gonna date Cho? Even if she asks you out?” The redheaded boy reaffirmed.

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly. “It’s just too complicated, especially with the fact that she used to date Cedric and what happened to him… We’re both in difficult places right now.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Hermione said quietly, sending him a soft look.

Rose knocked on the table after that, startling the trio of Gryffindors and when they turned to look at her, she gestured towards the door in a silent question.

“Yeah, let’s go look around,” Ron agreed. “We’ve done nothing but sit in pubs while we were here.” He was quick to stand, pushing himself up noisily while waiting for them to do the same. The group had only made it a few steps before their table was occupied by other eager students who wanted to have a seat and a butterbeer.

It was a rather eventful visit to Hogsmeade, but they were ready to enjoy the rest of it and have a relaxing time wandering through the shops together.

Chapter Text

Umbridge found out about their meeting in Hogs Head. 

They weren’t sure how she found out, but the newest Educational Decree affixed on the notice board in every common room told them that she knew. It had everyone in a right panic too, multiple people coming up to Harry and the others— completely lacking any form of subtlety.

Essentially the decree stated that any organization, society, team, group or club had to be approved by Umbridge, and if one was found to not have done so then all those involved would be expelled.

“We may not even have a Quidditch team anymore!”

Angelina Johnson had been the one to point out the fact that the Gryffindor Quidditch team was in fact a team and therefore would have to be approved by Umbridge too. Considering that Umbridge knew about their study club, one could only assume she knew who was forming the club and Harry was beyond stressed that this would mean she’d decline their request to reform the team.

Now he was ranting to Sirius about it, him and Rose sitting shoulder to shoulder as they stared at their godfather’s face through the mirrors he had given them. They were sitting on the ground, back pressed against the wall of one of the many alcoves that they often hid out in when they wanted to be alone.

“I’m sure she’ll let the team reform, Harry,” Sirius said reassuringly, his gaze flickering to Rose who had an unsure look on her face.

“She doesn’t like us!” Harry retorted. “Gryffindor’s are loud mouths who always have something to say, she wants everyone to listen unquestioningly to her; you see the problem?”

Both Rose and Sirius couldn’t help but smile at Harry’s characterization of his house— spot on as it was. “Listen, I have to go to the Ministry today, I’m sure I’ll run into Fudge while I’m there. I’ll talk to him about this.” Harry didn’t appear convinced at this, but Rose lifted a brow in question to which Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ll make up something that sounds like it would be a bad idea to refuse any of the House Quidditch teams. I’ll say something about it being a longstanding tradition as old as Hogwarts itself.”

Rose nodded slowly, that did sound good. It would have Fudge agreeing simply for the fact that he’d want to avoid being known as the Minister that would cut out one of Hogwarts favourite traditions.

“Okay,” Harry sighed.

“Now, enough of all this doom and gloom,” Sirius said with an amused look. “How’s school going?”

The twins shrugged as one. “About the same as ever,” Harry told him. “Defence Against the Dark Arts sucks though.”

“Why?”

“Cause Umbridge doesn’t want to teach spells,” Harry said immediately, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “She said that we wouldn’t need them cause ‘it’s not like we’re gonna get attacked in class’.”

“Yeah,” Sirius sighed now, a sympathetic expression on his face. “From what I hear around the Ministry that woman is a piece of work.” Harry just shot him a look that screamed understatement. “Well, just think of it this way, with the curse of the job you’ll only have her for one year.”

“A year too long,” Harry muttered, making his sister laugh. They continued to talk with Sirius about nothing in particular for the next two hours before they had to go, both having classes to get to.

The next few days Harry and Ron waited anxiously for any news about Gryffindor’s team, and it was only a few days after their talk with Sirius that they got some.

The two had been climbing into the Gryffindor common room, both feeling exhausted with all the extra mounds of work they had to do. The room was filled with more people than usual and glancing across the room they could see Fred and George giving examples of their newest creations. Apparently, it was a line of sweets that would make you sick enough to get out of class but also had a sweet to make you better as soon as you got the go ahead to leave.

They made twenty-six Galleons so far, much to Ron’s envy.

Hermione practically boiled with anger anytime she saw this, though the girl couldn’t find any rules stating that they weren’t allowed to sell or demonstrate their products.

“We got it!”

Harry and Ron jumped as Angelina spoke up excitedly from behind them. Spinning around the two saw their team captain grinning, a determined gleam in her eye.

“We’re a team again?” Harry asked.

“Yup,” Angelina said. “Umbridge said something about the Ministry ensuring to keep traditions alive in Hogwarts— I wasn’t really paying attention after she gave me the approval to be honest.”

Sirius did it. 

Harry grinned sharing an elated look with Ron who looked part happy and part nervous at this news. Angelina gave them both a pat on the shoulder with a parting, “practice will be starting as soon as possible,” before she headed off towards Fred and George, no doubt to give them the good news.

By the end of the week the Gryffindor Quidditch team had a practice and Angelina resumed her spot-on impression of Oliver Wood as she kept them out there for over an hour. The sky was dark and gloomy, the ground wet and muddy while everyone shivered as rain poured down on their heads from above, most of them shivering in the cold.

The entire team was relieved when Angelina finally relented, calling practice to an end as she led her drenched team back into the changing rooms.

Harry and Ron had been slow to change after practice, both reluctant to leave the warmth of the changing rooms after they had come in. Not helped by the pounding of the rain on the roof or the howling of the wind outside. The others shuffled out one after another once they were out of their uniforms, both Fred and George walking funny as they had some side effects— painful boils in highly private areas— from one of their treats they created to get out of classes.

“Hey, Harry,” Ron suddenly said as he shoved his way into warm clothes while Harry dried his face with a towel.

“Yeah?”

“Does your scar ever bother you anymore?” He asked slowly, Harry looking over at him quickly when he asked. “I just— I mean— I know it bothered you last year, you and Ro’ both… I guess, I was just wondering if it still did.”

Harry frowned, quickly rubbing the towel over this hair causing it to stand up at all ends. “No, not really.”

Now Ron frowned. “Really?” He asked. “I figured it would’ve bothered you more, now that…'' he glanced around the changing rooms, even though they watched everyone leave just moments ago. “Now that You-Know-Who got stronger.”

“It did,” Harry admitted, tossing his towel in the laundry basket in the corner of the room. “For a few weeks after it happened, Ro’s too, but eventually Ro’ started having us like… meditate and all that.”

“Meditate?” Ron repeated dubiously.

Harry laughed. “I know, it sounds dumb, but it really did help a lot.”

The first week or two living in Grimmauld Place had been filled with sleepless nights and random moments of pain in their scars for both Harry and Rose. Harry had been ready to just have it be another thing he had to deal with, but Rose wasn’t. Instead, she marched down to the library and began looking through book after book for help with their problems.

She eventually came to Harry with the plan to start meditating. The two would go out into the garden, or sit in the library, or in the middle area of their rooms and just let every thought they had slowly drift off.

Harry had a much harder time of it than Rose at first but found it easier when they would sit right next to one another, hands clasped together. His sister would talk to him for a while, about nothing in particular and he’d let her voice wash over him like a soothing balm.

They kept it up all through the summer and even now at school, making sure to take some time away from other people— usually right before bed worked best— to just let go of all the whirling thoughts they had. Harry was glad he managed to get better at it just in time for school, so he would be able to do it on his own. 

Still whenever he did ‘empty his thoughts’ as Rose would say, his mind would always travel to his sister, thinking of the times they’d meditate over the summer, and he’d feel like he was being wrapped in a blanket that made the rest of the world less jarring to his mind.

A lot of the time it reminded him of their days locked in their cupboard when they got their relatives mad. While that was not an all too happy memory, his time with his sister had turned it into a safe one. The two of them would sit together, hands joined, and they’d talk about what their lives would be like one day or just sit in silence and imagine their future. Despite the loudness of their relatives, the times they would do that would feel so silent and calming that they could almost forget where they were.

Meditating did wonders for Harry’s mood too, the start of the summer having him irritated for next to no reason at times, despite how happy he had been to be living with Sirius.

Honestly, Harry was sure it was the meditation that had him keeping a lid on his temper when it came to dealing with Umbridge. Merlin knew the woman was maddingly annoying all the time.

“Harry?”

He looked up to see Ron staring at him with a concerned look, the boy now all dressed and ready to go, cloak wrapped around him, and his hat shoved over his ears. Harry grinned and shook his head. “Sorry, just thinking about this past summer.” He said as he grabbed his cloak, putting it on in one swift move.

“It was a good one,” Ron assumed with a smile.

“The best,” Harry corrected with a grin, tugging his hat on as he and Ron made for the door, more than ready to go to sleep after the long and tiring practice they had. As they walked through the pouring rain, Ron instantly started talking about his own summer, mentioning how maddening it was that they couldn’t find out anything, even with Fred and George's rather ingenious listening devices.

Since the start of the year Hermione had gotten a lot more gung-ho about S.P.E.W. Her mission this year involved knitting tiny pieces of clothing— mostly hats and socks— and leaving them around the Gryffindor common room hidden under pieces of trash for the Hogwarts elves to find.

Ron had told her that the elves liked their work here and when the girl stubbornly refused to listen, he made sure to move the trash off the pieces of clothing whenever he noticed one around.  

The little buggers ought to have a choice, he would say.

For a while it seemed like it was working, the things Hermione would make disappeared, and Hermione was waltzing around with a very pleased expression on her face. The only thing though was it wasn’t working, as Harry discovered one morning when he woke up particularly early, went downstairs and found none other than Dobby the elf cleaning the Gryffindor common room.

Dobby informed him that he was the only elf who cleaned their House as the other elves were all terribly insulted by Hermione’s actions and now refused to come near here. Harry thought he should tell the girl this fact, but he didn’t want to imagine what Hermione would be like if she came to the conclusion that she needed to double her efforts.

Either way, Harry had been pleased to see Dobby and the elf was pleased to see him as well, always thrilled to talk to Harry. He brought up how happy he was at Hogwarts and offered his thanks yet again to Harry and made sure to say the same about Rose as well, looking up at the boy with wide eyes as he asked him to pass the message along. 

Harry had fondly promised to do so and asked after Winky, the Crouch family’s old elf. Apparently she was not doing so well, still having the same problem with drinking that she had last year. Harry wished there was something he could do about this, but he couldn’t really give her the thing she wanted, which was her old family back, all of whom were now dead.

It was a very last-minute decision of Harry’s to ask Dobby if he knew of any place where a group of about thirty people could practice Defence Against the Dark Arts without being discovered by any of the professors— more importantly Umbridge.

As luck would have it, Dobby did know a place.

The Room of Requirement, or the Come and Go Room as the Hogwarts elves called it, was a secret magical room in Hogwarts that not a lot of people knew about. Apparently it only appeared when one was in need of it and most people who happened upon it never did find it again as their need for it wasn’t the same as it was the first time they arrived.

Harry had been eager to tell Rose about it, hurriedly climbing the stairs to his room to find the Marauders Map and using it to track his sister down, spotting her name in the library alongside Adrian Pucey and Graham Montague’s. Stowing the map away in his trunk, he quickly descended the stairs and rushed out of Gryffindor Tower.

There hadn’t been a lot of people wandering the halls at the time as it had still been a bit early and those who were up would no doubt be in the Great Hall eating breakfast. A good thing Harry supposed because the last thing he wanted was Umbridge hearing about him running through the halls.

Rose was sitting at the end of her normal table in the library, while Pucey and Montague sat across from one another a seat down from her. Harry had spared a moment to wonder why in Merlin they would be doing work this early in the library but came to the quick conclusion that Slytherins may just be like that— or the ones who were friends with his sister at least. They two boys looked up when they heard Harry approaching, though Rose didn’t bother, her eyes not leaving the pages of her book.

“Ro’,” Harry panted as he slid into the seat at the opposite end of the table. “I found a place!” She glanced up at him then, raising a brow in question. Harry didn’t worry about anyone overhearing what he had to say next as he knew his sister and her friends were a paranoid lot who would no doubt put up silencing wards as soon as he broached the subject, perhaps even before he arrived.

“It’s called the Room of Requirement,” Harry told her. “I just saw Dobby in the common room and decided to ask him if he knew a spot. He said the door is hidden on the seventh floor across from a tapestry of trolls trying to dance.”

She didn’t recall the specific tapestry, mind you Hogwarts was rife with them, so it was no surprise.

“You just have to walk back and forth three times in front of the tapestry and think about what you need, and a door will appear with a room filled with whatever you need.” Harry said, as his sister and her friends watched him carefully. When Rose sat forward, waving her hand at him he explained. “I’ve heard of it before, Dumbledore mentioned it at the Yule Ball.”

Rose scrunched her nose at the man’s name but nodded slowly, sending him an inquiring look.

Harry shrugged. “I figure we could meet up tomorrow evening, that way we have time to tell the others.”

“Did you tell Ron and Hermione yet?” Rose asked.

He shook his head. “No, they were both still asleep when I came downstairs. I’m gonna go find them now though,” he said, getting back up without any further words and rushing off again.

Rose wanted to smile at her brother’s enthusiasm, but resisted the urge, instead glancing down at her books before looking over at Adrian and Graham. “Do you know any Slytherins who might be open to joining and can keep their mouths shut?”

The two boys exchanged a glance. Honestly, it would be a short list. They’d have to automatically rule out all families that followed the Dark Lord or at least those who were raised by followers of the Dark Lord. Neutral families would be the best bet, ones who weren’t overly affiliated with Malfoy and didn’t have any kind of grudge against the Potters.

“Greengrass and Zabini might be,” Graham said slowly, looking over at Rose. “They’re Neutral enough and from what I’ve noticed have been distancing themselves from Malfoy since last year— not that Greengrass was close with him at all in the beginning.”

“Nott might be a gamble too,” Adrian added, getting a surprised look from Graham.

“His father was devoted to the Dark Lord, even went to Azkaban rather than admit he wasn’t loyal.”

Adrian waved a hand carelessly through the air. “Nott was raised by his grandfather though, the man had been a follower of the Dark Lord in both their youths, back when they were still at Hogwarts. He distanced himself after the Dark Lord started delving too far into Dark Magic, odds are he’d raise his grandson with the same kind of caution.”

Rose had thought about those names too when she first considered any other Slytherins to invite. She knew already that there was no way Zabini or Greengrass would tell either Malfoy or any of the Dark Lords followers of their club— not that it would make much of a difference for the latter as it wouldn’t exactly be much of a threat that a bunch of school children were studying magic together. The thing Rose had to keep in mind was if they’d tell Umbridge, if they had any family members in the Ministry that the woman could use to get what she wanted out of them.

She made the absent reminder to herself to check for exactly this information on each of those who signed the club list too.

That conversation had taken place yesterday morning, and now, at just after seven in the evening the following day, Harry, Rose, Ron and Hermione were entering the aforementioned Room of Requirement after carefully following Dobby’s instructions to get in.

It was a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and a large, cracked Foe-Glass that Harry was sure had hung, the previous year, in the fake Moody’s office.

Rose immediately crossed to the bookcases, not listening as Ron spoke excitedly from behind her. She scanned the titles, recognizing some of them from the library back home. A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions. The Dark Arts Outsmarted. There were a great many more, some of the books looking as old as Hogwarts while others looked far newer, still shiny and pristine.

When she turned around at the sound of a knock on the door, she saw Ron still scanning the room with a grin while Hermione was sitting on one of the cushions with a book open in her lap. Glancing at the door she saw a group of Gryffindors wandering in, awed expressions on their faces.

Dean Thomas was the first one to speak, an impressed, “whoa, what is this place?” leaving his mouth as Ginny, Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil followed behind him. She saw Harry’s mouth open to explain but was cut off as the door opened once more and more people shuffled in.

Harry made the smart decision to not bother with any explanations until everyone had come in and by the time eight o’clock arrived nearly every cushion was occupied. Rose saw Harry glance at her, Adrian and Graham had yet to arrive though Rose was not surprised, she knew they’d be late, and she waved her brother on, gesturing at the group as she crossed to the door.

A few eyes watched her move past them, some looking distrusting while others were merely curious, she paid them each no mind, looking over at Hermione as the girl marked her page in her chosen book and set it aside.

“Well—” Harry started awkwardly. “This is the place we found to practice in,” he gestured around them with hesitant movements.

“It’s fantastic,” Cho was quick to say, and more than one person murmured their agreement.

“It’s bizarre,” Fred said in turn, frowning at his surroundings. “We hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then...”

George looked around, muttering a quiet, “oh, yeah...” As Dean asked about some of the items in the room, Harry quickly explained the use of them in order to dispel his awkward feeling since they started.

As Harry started to speak to the group as a whole, Hermione raised her hand before he could really begin. “What, Hermione?”

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” she said firmly.

“Harry’s leader,” Cho said at once and Rose watched as Harry avoided Ron’s knowing glance. Her brother looked at her, a few people following his line of sight, and Rose smirked lightly and pointed to him with one finger.

Harry smiled while Hermione said. “Yes, but we ought to vote properly on it. It will give him a sense of authority.” She looked around at everyone, “so— everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?”

All the hands were raised, though one was up half-heartedly and said boy, Zacharias Smith, spoke up.

“If this is a supposed secret club, surely there shouldn’t be any Slytherins here, right?” He pointed out in a pompous voice, glancing at Rose with a slight sneer.

Harry glared at the boy, as did each of the Weasleys present, and said. “Ro’ is here to stay. If you don’t like it, then you can leave.” Smith clenched his jaw but made no move for the door, so Harry turned to the rest of the group, making sure to meet their stares dead on. “That goes for everyone else as well. This isn’t a place for bullying or for looking down on others, Ro’ won’t be the only Slytherin joining, so if you have a problem with that then I suggest you go now.”

Everyone stared at Harry, some looking a bit tense while others nodded in agreement easily enough. No one made to leave though, and, as if on cue, the door was opened once more as Adrian and Graham waltzed in, both giving Rose a silent nod before scanning their surroundings. Those sitting on the floor watched with careful eyes as the two boys only stepped marginal closer to the group before leaning against one of the nearby bookcases, obviously not planning to sit on the ground.

Harry gave the two a nod before he glanced at his sister. Rose moved to grasp the key that was still in the lock of the door and turned it until it gave a satisfying click, spinning back around with a nod to Harry.

Yet again Hermione raised her hand before Harry could begin. “Yes, Hermione?”

“Since we all elected Harry our leader,” she said with a glance at the two newest joiners, “I think we ought to have a name too. It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity.” Rose moved closer to Adrian and Graham, her eyes crinkling at the incredulous look the two subtly shot her, and leaned back against the bookcase next to them, listening as names were suggested.

“Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?” Angelina asked hopefully.

“Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?” Fred suggested next, much to Rose’s amusement.

Hermione frowned at the boy. “I was thinking more of a name that didn’t refer to what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings.”

“The Defence Association?” Cho offered. “The D.A for short, so nobody knows what we’re talking about?”

It was a solid name, Rose thought. Not the most creative but honestly probably as good as it was going to get.

“Yeah, the D.A.’s good,” Ginny said, a smirk forming on her face. “Only let’s make it stand for Dumbledore’s Army because that’s the Ministry’s worst fear, isn’t it?”

It took a lot of effort for the three Slytherin not to react to the name suggested, each of them certain hell would freeze over before they well and truly joined a group with that kind of name. They listened on in faint horror as laughter and appreciative murmurers rang out at Ginny’s suggestion.

“No,” Harry said before any sort of vote could be made, everyone looking at him straight away. He had a frown on his face as he looked around. “Listen, I’m doing this— me and my sister are doing this—” he corrected with a gesture to Rose. “Because we’re all coming up on our O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams and in the last five years we had only two competent teachers. If this keeps up, we’re going to wind up being the generation that doesn’t get any O’s in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and honestly? That’s a bit embarrassing.” There were some quiet chuckles at this, and Harry grew serious again.

“But if you’re just joining because you think this is some kind of stand against the Ministry or because you think this is gonna be like we’re all soldiers preparing for war, then I’m out— we're out.” He said firmly, gesturing to his sister again. “That’s not what either one of us want to be a part of, we’re all kids not soldiers— least of all Dumbledore’s soldiers. I’m not doing this with all of you having the plan in mind for you to go start fighting against bad wizards and dying too.”

Ginny’s previously smirking face had grown solemn, while Cho was surreptitiously wiping her eyes at the vague mention of Cedric. Ron and Hermione were staring at Harry with expressions that were part concern and part unsure. 

While the two knew that Sirius didn’t want either twin involved in the war, they both thought they would be anyway. They were the ones who stopped You-Know-Who year after year, not Dumbledore or any other adults, so they had been unsure if he really wasn’t going to be getting involved.

“All in favour of the Defence Association? The D.A for short?” Hermione asked before anyone could offer a reply to Harry’s speech. She knelt up on the cushion to count the hands that raised. “That’s a majority— motion passed!”

She pinned the piece of paper with all their names on it on the wall and wrote DEFENCE ASSOCIATION across the top in large letters. She glanced over at the three Slytherins near the back. “Ro’, you and your friends still need to sign it.”

Rose gave the girl a nod, moving over to where the list was pinned, the two boys following behind her, while Harry, for the third time, attempted to get things started. She heard Smith scoff as she wrote her name beneath her brothers, handing the quill to Adrian absently. The boy asked how Expelliarmus would help them against the Dark Lord, or You-Know-Who, as the boy would say. She saw Adrian and Graham tense, while she looked over at her brother, curious about what he would say.

“We’re doing this to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Harry said quietly. “And believe me, that spell has definitely helped me in the past, saved my life even.”

The rest of the room went quiet as Smith opened and shut his mouth stupidly.

“But if you think it’s beneath you, you can leave.”

There weren’t many times where Harry was well and truly cold with people, him being soft-hearted at the core, but the times he was always left Rose feeling proud. When he got to the point where he refused to relent, refused to back down in any sort of way, her brother was a force to be reckoned with.

Their relatives learnt that the hard way before their third year.

When no one made a move, Harry spoke again. “Okay, I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice.”

Rose wasn’t surprised when Adrian and Graham paired up, moving off to one side as the rest of the group did the same. She saw Harry pair up with Neville, who had been left partnerless, though her brother was focused more on the rather shoddy spell work going on than his opponent.

She was certain that if the Ministry officials, the competent ones at least, could see how badly their children were fumbling they’d be horrified. Many of them were not succeeding at all while others were simply causing a wince or their opponent to jump backward as the feeble spell whooshed over them.

As she heard her brother tell Neville to practice with Ron and Hermione, she noticed Fred and George several feet behind Zacharias Smith taking turns shooting their spells at his back. Rose smirked but didn’t stop either twin, catching Fred’s eye and getting a mischievous grin from the boy.

It was hard to hear much of anything over the constant stream of voices, each one crying out the incantation for the spell they were currently practising, but it was impossible to miss the shrieking sound of a whistle blowing and at once everyone lowered their wands and looked to where Harry was lowering a whistle.

“That wasn’t bad,” Harry said slowly, clearly lying Rose thought, “but there’s definite room for improvement.” Understatement, Rose thought. “Let’s try again...”

Harry and Rose moved through the pairs, stopping by here and there to make suggestions and improvements. While Harry was very verbal with his advice, Rose took a more silent approach. At one point she stopped beside Hannah Abbot, who was paired with Susan Bones, and lifted her hands in a silent request that the girl cautiously approved.

Rose straightened the girls arm and tightened her grip on her wand slightly, she then moved Hannah’s wrist in the appropriate movement a few times— one that the girl almost had right but was missing the sharper flick needed at the end— then stepped back, gesturing for her to do it on her own. Hannah waved her wand, keeping a careful awareness on her movements, and was beyond thrilled when Susan’s wand went flying out of her hand. She grinned over at Rose as the girl gave a nod of approval before shooting her a small smile and moving on.

She stopped by to give Luna a hand while Harry stopped by her partner Justin Finch-Fletchly. Rose smirked at her brother as she lightly corrected Luna’s movements, giving the girl a smile and eyeing her radish earrings.

“Have you guys checked the time?”

Both twins turned simultaneously as Hermione voiced her question, Rose casting a quick Tempus while Harry looked down at his watch. Both their brows went up as they realised the late hour and Harry wasted no time in blowing his whistle again, calling an end to their first study club meeting.

“Well, that was pretty good,” Harry said to them all, glancing around at the beaming faces, “but we’ve overrun, we’d better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?”

“Sooner!” Dean Thomas said eagerly, and many people nodded in agreement.

Angelina, however, quickly cut in, “The Quidditch season’s about to start, we need team practices too!”

“Let’s say Wednesday night then,” Harry said. “Next time we’re here we can take a closer look at all the schedules and set up more times.” There were more murmurs of agreement at this and everyone began to shuffle out, Harry taking a look at the Marauder’s Map to make sure Filch or Umbridge wasn’t anywhere near them— they weren’t.

Rose offered her brother and friends a wave as she left with Adrian and Graham, making the three Gryffindors the last to leave the Room of Requirement. The three Slytherin’s had the longest climb back down to their House— though not by long as Hufflepuff’s House was on the ground floor, one floor above Slytherins.

The halls were vacant, what with curfew quickly approaching, and the odd portrait had its occupant sleeping in its frame.

“I won’t lie,” Adrian commented easily enough. “That lesson didn’t seem too useful.”

Rose smiled, not glancing back at the two boys following behind her. “Harry wasn’t lying about its usefulness though,” she commented. “It’s the only reason he survived his encounter with the Dark Lord.”

Adrian and Graham stared holes into the girl’s back. This would be the first time Rose admitted out loud that she was aware of his return. Sure, they knew she already knew it, but everything she had been doing till now made it seem like she had no clue about it. It confused the both of them more than anything, but neither voiced the thought.

They knew she talked to Marcus, but other than telling them that she had a plan, the older boy never really gave up any information and neither Adrian or Graham felt the need to press the issue, trusting Rose and Marcus on the matter.

“Still, I thought we’d be doing more advanced stuff, considering your guys’ reputation.”

Rose laughed lightly. “Well, considering most of the students tonight struggled with a spell as basic as Expelliarmus , I think it’s a good idea we started off slow.” Both boys conceded to that, if this was the future army the Dark Lord had to fight against then his odds of winning were looking better and better. “Nevertheless we’re going to delve into more intricate spells— I know Harry eventually wants to work on the Patronus Charm as well.”

The two exchanged a glance, and Graham asked. “Your brother can cast it, can’t he?”

Rose gave a silent nod.

“Can you?”

They got another nod. Adrian and Graham took this information in with silent befuddlement; it had been long since assumed that Dark wizards were incapable of casting a Patronus— something about their magical cores being too twisted. Except, the two knew for a fact that Rose has used and practiced Dark Magic, more than once…

“I’m sure the two of you will manage it,” Rose offered. “Merlin knows it took me a few months to get it, but if one applies themselves there is next to nothing to stand in their way.” As she saw the entrance to their common room she glanced back at both boys with a smirk. “Slytherins are an ambition bunch after all.”

With those parting words, the young girl left Adrian and Graham behind, heading on into the common room while they waited a few moments before going in as well. They couldn’t help but be dubious about her words, but it was the fact that she herself managed it that kept them wondering if maybe what the vast majority had to say on the matter was wrong.

It was Light wizards who first started the theory after all; perhaps they simply wanted to discourage Dark wizards.

The Defence Association continued to meet up over the following weeks and they had moved onto other spells, the Impediment Jinx and Reductor Curse to name a few. It was next to impossible to fix a regular night of the week for their meeting to accommodate four different Quidditch team practices, but that was likely for the better. Non-regular meetings made them unpredictable, harder to track if anyone was watching them.

Hermione and Rose had taken some time to create a number of fake Galleons whose serial numbers would change to reflect the date of the next meeting, growing hot when the numbers changed so those carrying them would know. Harry had the controlling one as their appointed leader and he would determine when the next gathering would take place. At the end of the fourth meeting Hermione explained them in depth to everyone while Rose passed them out to each one of their members.

Adrian and Graham had waited until they were alone with Rose before commenting on how similar the spell was to the Dark Mark. They didn’t receive a verbal response from the girl, only a raised brow as she waited to see if they had anything further to comment.

They did not.

The Quidditch season had officially begun in the beginning of November and Gryffindor and Slytherin were the first to face off. This year's Slytherin Captain was Graham— Adrian had declined the position, citing the need to focus on his studies— and the boy had been determined to put the team through the mills, especially considering both of Malfoy’s goons were now the team Beaters.

Thankfully the position was one that didn’t require much thinking.

Malfoy was said to have been trying to gather some Slytherin’s to participate in a chant that he had created entitled ‘Weasley is our King’. Essentially the song went on about how Ron lacked any Quidditch skills and would keep letting goals in with the typical comment on the Weasley family wealth— or lack thereof.

He didn’t garner the numbers he had been hoping for, what with the younger years aware of Rose’s status and her friendship with Ron, the older years having no desire to participate in something so childish and obvious. Their year had Parkinson and her gang, but they were still shaken from what happened last year with Rose and the only other ones who were not going to be out on the pitch didn’t associate with Malfoy.

Harry had heard Malfoy singing the song as he zipped around the pitch, but he didn’t have nearly enough volume for Ron to hear him, unless he was willing to spend the game camped out next to the boy; not a wise thing for a Seeker to do. 

Gryffindor won the first game, with Harry catching the Snitch, and Goyle— true to form— sent a Bludger at him after the whistle was blown.

Rose had been right furious but not as furious as she had been at what happened next. She was always quick to go out onto the pitch whenever Harry was finished, never quite able to resist the urge to check over her brother herself. Rose had waved her hand over Harry as she tried to detect any serious injuries, ignoring Harry’s I’m fine face as she disguised the motion as her hugging her brother in congratulations.

“Saved Weasley’s neck, haven’t you?” Draco Malfoy said and both twins turned to see him sneering at them, his face white with fury and his broom clutched in his hand. “I’ve never seen a worse Keeper... he’s lucky I didn’t have enough time to gather a proper group to sing up the little song I wrote for him.” He had a dark smirk on his face as he said this, his grey eyes lighting up mockingly.

Harry didn’t even bother to answer, instead grabbing Rose’s hand and dragging her toward the rest of the team. He was met with tight hugs from Katie and Alicia, the girls laughing happily at the win.

“It had all the great markings, each one spot on,” Malfoy called out as his team began to leave, though Goyle blundered over to him while Crabbe was being chewed out by Madam Hooch. “How he always lets the Quaffle in; was born in a bin. I wanted to add a couple more verses but couldn’t find a rhyme for fat and ugly— wanted to sing about his mother, see—”

“Let’s clear out, Malfoy,” Adrian ordered darkly as he passed by the boy at the same time Angelina called him a sour grape.

“— couldn’t fit in useless loser either— for his father, you know—”

Rose saw Adrian shoot her a questioning look, clearly asking if she wanted him to step in more and she hesitated for a second before waving him on subtly, shooting a look towards the rest of the Slytherins. Adrian nodded, barking out for any of the snakes nearby to head back to the castle.

If the Weasley twins were going to take a swing at little Malfoy, and they sure looked like they would as they froze in the process of shaking Harry’s hand, Rose didn’t exactly want anyone defending the boy.

“Leave it,” Angelina said at once, grabbing Fred’s arm— quickly joined by Alicia and Katie— while Rose reached out to grab George’s arm, her hold half-hearted at best, though Harry did grab hold of George too, his hold a lot firmer.

“But you Potter’s like the Weasleys, don’t you?” Malfoy said with a more pronounced sneer, clearly far from finished. “Spend holidays and everything there, don’t you?” The boy continued to blather on and on, his insults aiming more and more precise until he made a mention of Harry and Rose’s mother.

Rose clenched her jaw and let go of George instantly, Harry doing the exact same, though his reason for doing this was so he could launch himself at Malfoy alongside George. She smirked as Harry’s fist, firmly clutched around the Snitch he caught to win the game, sunk into Malfoy’s stomach while George’s fist slammed into Malfoy’s jaw, sending his face jerking to the right.

There was screaming around them, the girls and Gryffindor’s team calling for Harry and George to stop while those still lingering in the stands began bellowing down at them. There was a sudden yell “Impedimenta!” and Harry and George were both sent backwards, their limbs wrapped up tightly.

Rose glanced over at where the spell came from and saw Madam Hooch stomping over, her whistle in one hand and her wand in the other. Fred was still being restrained by the girls, Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpers and moans leaving his mouth, and Harry had wormed his way out of his bindings and was standing once more.

In the end the boys had been given a lifetime ban from the game, along with Fred who Umbridge insisted likely would have been involved if it weren’t for him being restrained. Alongside that completely illogical way of thinking Rose and Harry had been issued a detention, Harry’s to go along with his ban while Rose’s— according to Umbridge— had been due to standing alongside the two boys when the attack happened, so she must’ve been involved.

Not that Rose minded too much, as she did not want her brother alone with the awful woman and their detention, as they were told, would be a joint detention in her office. They were told to report to her office Monday evening— and while this had Harry feeling extra down after his lifetime ban, it just so happened that Hagrid returned to Hogwarts that Saturday.

Boy, that was an interesting conversation. 

Apparently, Dumbledore had followed through on sending someone to meet with the giants; but based on Hagrid's injuries it hadn’t gone at all the way the man planned. 

Hagrid hadn’t listened to Hermione’s concerns on his upcoming teaching lessons— the girl going as far as to plan his next few for him. He seemed confident in his teaching abilities and while normally they would agree with him— within reason— Umbridge wasn’t exactly a lenient person.

As it turned out his lesson plan had been on Thestrals, a creature Harry was beyond proud to say that he already knew about. Upon their arrival back to Hogwarts Harry had a moment's worry when he noticed the large, undead horse-like creatures pulling the previously self-moving carts. He wasn’t at all soothed by the words of Luna Lovegood at the time but his sister had calmly explained the situation.

Thestrals were creatures that only those who’ve witnessed death could see, and Harry hadn’t been the only one to see them at the lesson that day.

That had been earlier in their mid-November day, and it was now almost five and Harry and Rose were beginning their trek to Umbridge’s office on the third floor. It was a trip they made multiple times before, when Lockhart was their professor, when Remus was their professor and even with the fake Moody. Despite this, neither twin recognized their surroundings.

The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Umbridge spoke.

“Good evening,” she greeted in a sickly-sweet voice that had Rose wanting to claw her ears out. She was wearing her typical luridly flowered robes that right now blended almost seamlessly into the tablecloth on her desk.

“Evening,” Harry said stiffly while Rose just gave an indistinct nod.

Rose moved to sit in one of the straight back chairs that Umbridge had sitting in front of her desk, resting her forearms along the desktop in front of her, hands clasped together. Harry, following his sister's lead, dropped his bag heavily on the floor next to the other chair, slumping into the seat.

“Now,” Umbridge said sweetly. “The two of you are going to be doing some lines for me. No, not with your quill,” she added, as Harry began reaching for his bag to grab a quill for him and Rose. “You are going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are.”

She produced two long, thin black quills with an unusually sharp point, holding one out to each of them. Rose’s eyes narrowed at the sight of them but otherwise kept her expression blank, even as her brother pointed out that they weren’t given any ink.

“You won’t need ink,” Umbridge said, the faint echoes of a laugh in her voice. “Now, I want you to write ‘I must respect my betters.’” 

“For how long?”

“However long it takes for the message to sink in,” Umbridge replied to Harry.

Rose didn’t bother with any form of protest, her mind whirring as soon as she saw the quills in Umbridge's hands. Placing the point of the quill on the parchment they were given and she wrote with careful precision: I must respect my betters.

She heard Harry let out a small gasp of pain and it was only because she knew what would happen that she managed to stifle her own. The words on the parchment were shining with red ink at the same time that the words they just wrote appeared on the back of their writing hands, Harry’s right and Rose’s left. It looked as though the skin had been cut with a very fine scalpel— yet as quickly as the cutting words appeared, the skin healed over again, leaving it smooth but still slightly redder than before.

“Yes?”

Harry’s head moved upward, looking over at Umbridge, but Rose didn’t bother, she knew the vile woman was no doubt feeling quite pleased with herself and wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Nothing,” Harry said slowly, turning back to his parchment. She could see him glance at her out of the corner of her eye and lifting her left pinky from around the quill, she twirled it in a small circular motion. With that, they both turned back to their lines, writing in silence well aware of the beady eyes that stared them down as they did so. On and on it went, the words carving themselves into their hands, their skin healing itself over and over again.

Eventually the sky grew dark outside of Umbridge’s window, though neither twin asked if they were allowed to stop, or even checked the time. Harry was feeling his well-known stubbornness rising up, while Rose just kept her goal in mind.

“Come here,” Umbridge said after what seemed like hours.

The two stood up as one, their hands stinging sharply. With a swift glance down, they could see that the skin on the back of their hand was red raw.

“Hand,” she said.

They extended their hands with simultaneous movements, not offering a word as she took them between each of her own. They watched silently as she expected the backs of their hands, her thick stubby fingers running across the red skin while her ugly rings glinted from the light of the torches in the room.

“Tut, tut, I don’t seem to have made an impression yet,” she said with a smile. “Well, we’ll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won’t we? You may go.”

Harry and Rose left the room without a word. The school was quiet and empty, no doubt everyone was either asleep or lying in bed by now. Harry waited until they had turned a corner before he grabbed hold of his sister’s uninjured hand with his own uninjured one, tugging her towards one of the alcoves they often hid out in.

“What was that?” Harry asked aghast.

Rose grabbed her brother's hand, inspecting it herself while Harry waited for her to answer.  “That was our way of getting that vile woman out of the school.” She finally said, her wand lifting and waving about before she spoke.

“What?”

“Do you know what that was?” Rose asked instead, not stopping at Harry’s mutter of, “a crazy quill.” as she plowed on. “It’s called a Blood Quill; it was made illegal in the 1800’s. It’s an old torture device.”

Harry stared at Rose. “Well, why didn’t we just leave? Why aren’t we telling Sirius right now.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Harry, we need proof.” She lifted up her hand, which although still very red, would no doubt heal a lot more and fade to a dull pink colour by morning. “We’ll go to detention for the rest of the week and the day before our last one we’ll tell Sirius about it.”

“Then what?” Harry asked slowly, frowning down at his hand at the thought of going to more detentions. “And what about my Quidditch practice Friday?”

“Harry, first of all— you’re banned, remember?” Harry’s face twisted at the reminder but Rose ignored that for now. “Second of all— Sirius will come during our last one, you should be good to go to practice by then, no doubt your ban will be revoked when people see what that woman has done.” Rose assured him with a huff. 

“The fact of the matter is, the Ministry is deeply interfering with Hogwarts and they won’t take our words at face value, even as reluctant as the Minister is to have a battle of public opinion against us.” Rose finally let go of Harry’s hand and gave him a soft look at his downtrodden expression.

“We aren’t learning anything from her and if she stays here, she’s only going to get more arrogant with her behaviour. Soon it won’t just be us getting detentions like this.”

“What’s Sirius gonna do?”

Rose pursed her lips. “Hopefully, after we tell him, he can go to the Minister and make a fuss. When he comes to interrupt our last detention, I’m hoping that he’ll bring the Minister— or preferably Madam Bones— and Umbridge will be arrested immediately.”

Harry frowned. What she said made a lot of sense, and he didn’t want anyone else to have to do this, least of all any of the younger students. Harry was sure that the only reason he and Rose held their ground was because they had an unusually high tolerance for pain.

“The quills are illegal?’

Rose nodded. “They’re only allowed to be used when signing Gringotts contracts and that’s just your name. Clearly that’s not what that woman is doing— nor does she have any right to even make us sign anything without Sirius present. Even owning one could land a person in Azkaban.”

She didn’t like the thought of going to the rest of these detentions, having to have those words scarred into the back of her hand forever, but she knew in time they’d fade into barely recognisable scars overtime. She told Harry as much, in a reassuring tone, and Harry nodded slowly.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the week had seemed to both fly by and drag on, with both twins going for their hourly long detentions writing out the same line over and over. On Friday morning they had gotten together to call Sirius and explained what happened— and boy had he been furious, swearing up and down— and the three planned out what would happen next. Rose, for once, doing most of the talking.

So it was with rather high spirits that Harry and Rose went to their final detention with Umbridge, holding each other’s uninjured hand. Their other hands were red and the words they spent hours carving into their skin last night were still clear to read after days of doing this. The day after their first detention Rose had got a hold of Murtlap Essence for the two of them to use when they were finished.

Harry was glad she found the stuff as it did wonders for their wounds— pain wise at least.

As they took a seat, ignoring Umbridge’s sickening smile, they started writing and let their mind wander as to where Sirius was right now. Rose had pointed out to the man that it was likely Umbridge was watching the Floo Network so it’d be best to arrive on foot. Perhaps they were already at the Hogwarts gate; Sirius had been impatient to do something since they told them what happened. Maybe they were already at the front doors, thundering in without waiting for any form of welcome.

Sirius would do that, the man’s occasional flare for the dramatics made even more noticeable when he was filled with emotions.

Still, they wrote in silence, the only sound to be heard in the office was the scratch of three quill on parchment, only one of which was using ink. When the clock above them began to pass the one-hour mark, Harry glanced over at Rose with a furrowed brow, wondering what could be holding their godfather up. He put any worry about tonight's practice— that he may not actually get to attend— out of his mind, none too concerned about it now that they made it this far and focused on listening for any noise of people approaching.

The fact that he was putting so much effort into doing this was exactly why he was surprised when the office door suddenly swung open, and two men entered with wands ready. Harry and Rose were quick to turn around while Umbridge dropped her quill entirely, standing up abruptly, a look of shock and the faint traces of panic on her toad-like face.

Neither Harry or Rose recognized the two men, one tall with dark skin and a gold hooped earring while the other was a tad shorter but burly looking with buzz cut hair and nose that was bulbous and round at the end.

They did recognize the people coming in after them though. The first being Madam Bones, looking just as the twins remembered her, next was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, with his hands clenched around his hat and an expression that seemed to be trying to be steely but instead came off as anxious. The last two, coming up on the end of the trail of people, was Sirius and Lucius Malfoy, the latter of which confused the twins as to why he was here.

At once the quills in the twins' hands were quickly summoned by the Auror with the buzzcut and Sirius was crossing to the two of them, pulling them out of their seats and away from Umbridge as Madam Bones spoke.

“Dolores,” she said sharply. “What do you think you are doing?” Madam Bones made for an imposing figure, that’s even with no wand in hand, as her arms crossed and she stared down Umbridge.

“I— I was—” gone were Umbridge’s smug smiles and condescending gazes as she stuttered her way through an explanation she clearly didn’t have.

Fudge stepped forward beside Madam Bones. “Dolores, I am shocked,” he said quietly as he shook his head. “ Blood Quills; on two Pureblood heirs at that.”

Harry scowled as the Minister brought blood into the matter but was quickly distracted when Sirius, who had an arm wrapped around both him and Rose, standing in the middle of them, murmured. “Sorry it took so long; she had a bunch of wards in random areas of Hogwarts that would alert her to anyone approaching.”

That explained the delay, both twins thought.

“I was simply teaching them to respect their betters, Cornelius! To stop partaking in lies and slander!”

The twins looked back to Umbridge, unaware they had even glanced away in the first place and saw the Aurors grabbing her arms; both her hands secured behind her back now.

“Even your possession of the Blood Quills is enough to sentence you to Azkaban,” Madam Bones said darkly. “That’s not even taking into account the fact that you have used them on children as a form of punishment.”

“And to use it on two children who have suffered as much as the Potter twins have, neither of whom were at all involved in Dumbledore’s most recent stream of lies,” Fudge said grimly with another shake of his head.

Madam Bones gestured to the two men to usher Umbridge out of the room as she turned to Harry and Rose; she pointedly ignored Umbridge's protests and calls of her title in both the Ministry and Hogwarts. “Lord Black, heirs Potter, I assure you that the Ministry had no idea the length Dolores Umbridge would go to prove a point. I offer you our sincerest apologies and promise to prosecute her to the fullest extent of our laws.”

Sirius glanced over at the now empty doorway. “What now?”

“Now, we shine light on the matter to Dumbledore and we’ll Floo back to the Ministry where she will be placed in a holding cell until her trial,” Madam Bones told him quietly.

Rose poked Sirius’ side in question and the man only frowned for a second before saying, “Malfoy is on the Board of Governors, he was also present when this matter was taken to Fudge and insisted on coming along.”

She nodded slowly, watching silently as the man spoke to Fudge in a low voice.

“I’ll be joining you in Dumbledore’s office,” Sirius said firmly, getting a nod of agreement from Madam Bones.

Sirius began to guide the kids out into the hall, Madam Bones, Fudge and Malfoy following along. Harry and Rose saw the two Aurors standing with Umbridge a few feet ahead and they wanted to smile at the thought of Umbridge being marched through the halls of Hogwarts for all to see. Dinner was likely still being served in the Great Hall and no doubt there were at least a few people who saw the Minister.

And if one person at Hogwarts knows, everyone at Hogwarts will know.

Madam Pomfrey was also in the hall, bustling over as soon as the twins came into view and prompting for their hands. Unlike with Umbridge, neither twin was reluctant to offer their hands, trusting the woman to have their health’s best interests at heart after all these years.

Sirius clenched his jaw when their scars were displayed; words clear for all to see, I must respect my betters. Madam Bones and Malfoy’s faces remained impassive at the sight while Fudge winced and looked away.

“Ro’ had us using Murtlap Essence after our detentions,” Harry quietly told the woman.

She nodded approvingly. “Well, with scars like these there won’t be much else to do. You still have some?” She asked Rose, getting a swift nod. “Good, soak your hands for about an hour tonight and I’ll have Severus make an ointment for you to use for the following weeks.”

She received twin nods in response to that, and the woman made to head back to the Medical Wing, offering the other adults a nod of respect before she went. Madam Bones moved forward, the Minister just a step behind her while Lucius Malfoy trailed after him, and the three approached the two Aurors who were still holding Umbridge by the arms.

“Harry, Rosie,” Sirius said, making the twins look up at him. “I’m going to join this meeting with Dumbledore, make sure this is all dealt with, and I’ll give you both a ring tomorrow, alright?”

“Sure, Sirius,” Harry agreed with a smile. “Me and Ro’ are just gonna go soak our hands for a bit.” He waved his injured hand around and shot his sister a grin. 

A strong hand pushed over both their heads, messing up their hair entirely, garnering an indignant squawk from Harry while Rose ducked her head and glared at Sirius, getting nothing but a sunny grin in response. Before Sirirus could head off, Harry snagged his wrist. “Can you ask if me, Fred and George are still banned for life from Quidditch?” He asked in a whisper.

Sirius grinned and whispered back with a wink. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Their small family parted ways after that, Harry and Rose discreetly high fiving with a glance back at the group of adults on their way up to Dumbledore’s office. They shared a look and made the quick decision to go find Ron and Hermione, wanting to tell them about what happened as soon as possible.

Practice was still going on; Hermione was no doubt studying in the stands while Ron trained with the rest of the team. 

It was a little over three hours since Lucius Malfoy arrived at Hogwarts alongside Cornelius Fudge, Amelia Bones, Sirius Black and two Aurors he couldn’t be bothered to remember the names of at this time.

To say he had been both intrigued and confused when he had been meeting with Cornelius and none other than Sirius Black barged in, bringing with him Amelia Bones with a furious expression on his face— always incapable of acting like a proper Pureblood Lord— was an understatement. When the man immediately launched into an explanation of his heirs— the Potter twins— getting a hold of him to reveal that they had been given a week’s worth of detention from Cornelius’s previous Undersecretary and had been forced to use Blood Quills, Lucius almost didn’t believe him. Wouldn’t have if he wasn’t already familiar with this particular Black as well as Dolores Umbridge’s hidden sadistic nature.

Bones had been quick to point out that neither Potter heir had been in the nature to lie about any injuries they previously received, and firmly said she would be gathering two Aurors and checking the claim out for herself.

Of course, Lucius and Cornelius both had to join, would be fools not to, really.

As it turned out, the claims were true. When they first arrived at Hogwarts— on foot at the insistence of Black who didn’t want Umbridge knowing of their approach in case she tried to hide anything— they were immediately stopped by the Aurors who informed them there seemed to be multiple alert wards in their path starting at Hogwarts gate.

Lucius knew Cornelius well enough to know that this piece of information made him extremely nervous. It’s not like Dumbledore would place these basic kinds of wards around the castle, no doubt having full faith in Hogwarts original wards and their connections to the headmaster.

When they entered Umbridge’s office the woman was caught red-handed, so to speak. Or— the Potter twins were the ones with red hands, but nevertheless the woman’s guilt was clear to see. He got a close look at the scars the woman left on both children, ugly and red on the back of their hands though neither one of them looked to be in pain or even remotely affected by the wounds. Lucius wasn’t all too surprised considering some of the injuries the two received from their own flesh and blood.

After that the group— adults only that is— had gathered in Dumbledore’s office. A lot of their time had been taken up by Dumbledore and Cornelius’s back and forth competition for power, the former of which stating that he should be in charge of hiring a new staff member as obviously the Ministry’s choices were clearly unsafe, while the latter maintained his determination in picking a professor, pointing out Dumbledore’s incapability in hiring any for longer than a year to begin with.

Eventually it was agreed that Bones would assign a temporary professor, picking one of her Aurors for the job, and they would deal with next year’s hiring at a later date. Lucius imagined they’d be there all night if they let the two men continue their squabble.

Black only remained to make sure there was a proper form of punishment for Umbridge and apparently to make a notice of Dumbledore’s lack of awareness to the children in this school’s safety. That had Lucius stifling a smirk, pleased to see the normally respected man get put down a peg for a change.

It did have him wondering too. 

Everyone had been curious as of late as to Black’s allegiances to this war and from the sounds of it, and looks of it, he was clearly displeased with Dumbledore. Black also wasn’t making any political stands in favour of Dumbledore, instead simply focusing on restoring all the old Black family accounts.

Narcissa spoke of inviting the man over for tea but had been unsure if Black would take the invitation well. It wasn’t exactly a secret that their son didn’t like either Potter twin, and Black himself had been distant with his family since he ran away at sixteen. Still, Lucius knew Narcissa did still think fondly of her cousin, always a family woman at heart, it was just they were members of the Black family.

To say it made things challenging would be a vast understatement.

Pushing these thoughts aside for now— he’d bring them up with his Lord later— he stepped down the stone steps that led out of Dumbledore’s office. Lucius had declined an opportunity to use the Floo, citing the desire to stop and see his son before he left, and said he’d ask to borrow the Floo in the Head of Slytherin’s House office instead.

It was Severus he wanted a word with after all, not that he’d say as much around Dumbledore.

So, he made the once familiar tread down to the basement of Hogwarts where he knew both Severus’s class and office was located. He passed the odd student here, his cane making a dull sound on the floor as he walked past them, some of them spared him a glance while others remained engrossed in their own paths through the school.

It wasn’t until he was about a floor and two turns away from his destination that he was stopped by a voice calling his name.

“Lord Malfoy.”

Pausing with a look to his left, Lucius immediately recognized the Pucey heir, Adrian, approaching him from the hall opposite of the one he was about to turn down. At his side is the Montague heir, both boys dressed in their school uniforms with neutral expressions on their faces.

“Heir Pucey,” Lucius greeted evenly. From what he knew of the Slytherin Hierarchy— from what his son had told him— this boy was currently the head, with the Montague heir being one of his inner members. He didn’t see him too often, or at all really, obviously not interacting with any Hogwarts students until after they’ve graduated and started to make a name for themselves. 

The boy doesn’t look much like his father, Alexander Pucey, who Lucius was close acquaintances with, instead taking after his mother’s side of the family— perhaps a good thing considering Alexander wasn’t exactly known for his good looks.

“We were hoping you could deliver a letter,” Pucey started quietly. “It’s not one we want sent by bird.”

Lucius felt curiosity licking at his bones, the familiar desire to know a secret that he had never been able to fully repress surging forward at once. He wondered idly why they didn’t ask this of Severus, the man having his own Floo and the ability to leave as he pleases.

“I may be able to,” Lucius said in a faux-reluctant voice. “Is it for your father?”

Pucey shook his head but made no move to hand him anything and Lucius noted that his hands were empty too. His confusion only spiked higher when both boys instead stepped back simultaneously, moving closer to the edge of the walls and creating space between them but not moving out of sight.

It took nearly every ounce of subtly ingrained into him by his father for Lucius not to outwardly react as none other than Rose Potter stepped forward, an impassive expression on her face and a letter in her hand. As she moved towards him his eyes flickered over to the two boys still standing aside and noted the serious expressions on their faces and the wands now clenched in their hands, clearly ready to be used if needed.

What is going on?

As the girl calmly held the letter out to him, Lucius felt his careful mask slip for a brief moment— so brief almost no one would notice it but judging by Potter's smile she did— when he saw the name written clearly on the front.

Tom Riddle Jr.

Reaching out, Lucius carefully grasped the letter from Potter’s hand, scanning her face for any indication as to what this was about but he could only detect the faint lingering humour in her eyes before she backed away from him and turned to leave. Lucius didn’t miss the way both Pucey and the Montague heir tightened their hands on their wands and kept their eyes on him until she was out of sight.

“It would be best if you kept this between us and the person the letter is addressed to,” Pucey informed him quietly, his eyes dark and unsurprised by the event that just transpired.

Lucius silently inclined his head and watched as the two boys left after Potter, his mind already spinning at what just happened. From what he learnt from both his son and Severus, Potter was a recluse in Slytherin, not interacting with anyone from her own House. Except— clearly the girl was familiar with Alexander’s son; the current Head of the Hierarchy.

Only now— Lucius was wondering if the boy even was the Head, he certainly didn’t act like it in the brief exchange he witnessed. He began to wonder if perhaps he was remiss in taking information from two, admittedly, biased people like his son and Severus— neither of whom were ever on civil terms with the male Potter family members.

Dropping that line of thought for now, Lucius forced himself to continue his path to Severus’s office, his mind a great deal heavier now than it had been. He wouldn’t discuss this encounter with the man, he thought, tucking the letter into an inner pocket. He would keep this information between himself and his Lord— and obviously the three Slytherin’s who brought this upon him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated— or at the very least he would have to start behaving a lot more... delicately.

With the heavy weight of the letter in his pocket, Lucius released a breath when he saw Severus’s office door ahead, his hand tightening on his cane. He was filled with the sudden sense of urgency, the uncontrollable need to take this information to his Lord straight away, but he had a message for Severus first. He found himself grateful for the normally sour man’s silent and forthright nature as it meant his visit would be brief.

Merlin knew he had enough on his mind now that he didn’t want to waste time with idle chit-chat.

Since the first Defence Association meeting a series of three conversations had taken place in Slytherin; three separate conversations with three separate people. Adrian and Graham had, of course, followed Rose’s instructions on finding other Slytherin’s willing to join their club and had made a point to catch the three fifth-years on their own.

The first one they approached had been Zabini, a smart boy with an unusual knack for learning secrets— not like Rose did, nor quite the level of secrets Rose knew, but he could find out a lot when he wanted to.

He had been Adrian and Graham’s first choice to approach because the boy had been the clearest to read in terms of his opinion on the hierarchy. Not one spoken aloud but in his actions that most would not have noticed had they not been brought up in analyzing people's behaviours. 

Zabini had been on civil terms with Malfoy, even hanging out with the boy here and there. That was until last year when Zabini suddenly stopped associating with Malfoy all together, choosing to cultivate friendships, or to be more accurate, acquaintanceships with other Slytherins.

It was a clear move that Malfoy himself was too self-absorbed to see; Zabini saw Malfoy as a soon to be sinking ship and was cutting ties before he was dragged down with him.

So, around Mid-October, Adrian and Graham had approached him in the Slytherin common room which, thankfully, had been nearly empty that day.

The dark-skinned boy had been sitting in one of the chairs set up near the corner of the room, reading a book. Adrian had been swift about sitting across from him, not waiting for an invitation of any kind, while Graham surreptitiously waved his wand, shielding their conversation from any prying ears.

Adrian drummed his fingers on the small end table between the two chairs, his eyes finding a small snack engraved into the lip of the tabletop. He had a faint wonder if it was his mind playing tricks on him when he thought he saw the thing move ever-so-slightly but pushed the thought aside.

“What do you think of the current hierarchy standings, Zabini?” Adrian asked darkly, dragging his gaze to the boy across from him, scanning his impassive expression.

Zabini lifted a brow. “I’m not one to be too associated with the hierarchy in general,” he offered in a low voice. “You’d know that being the head and all.”

Adrian felt a smirk tug at his mouth at the way Zabini had said the last part. That at least confirmed to him and Graham that the boy knew Adrian wasn’t running things. “What is your opinion on our current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?” He asked instead of replying to the boy’s statement.

There was a scoff. “I think that woman is clearly a Ministry official with no actual abilities in teaching.”

Now Adrian did smirk, and he knew without looking that Graham was doing the same. “Can you keep a secret?” Adrian asked smoothly, leaning forward.

That had been that with Zabini, the boy straight-forward and always pleased to be in on a secret.

He had been given the same welcoming Adrian and Graham had; that is, wary looks and side eyes here and there, but other than that everyone kept their traps shut.

They approached Greengrass next, relying on the girl's desire to excel in all her subjects and, by connection, her hatred for Umbridge’s inept way of teaching. She had been all for studying with the rest of them— learning from the Potter twins, not because of their so-called fame but rather their impressive reputation following each of their hectic school years.

She seemed to be accepted more easily than the boys, in some ways at least. Greengrass wasn’t exactly a slouch in terms of looks, far from it actually, so the boys in the self-named studying group had looked pleased to have her around. However, some of the girls looked jealous of Greengrass, not a lot, mind you, just the more superficial of the bunch.

An unexpected bonus was that in addition to Daphne Greengrass, they also brought in Astoria Greengrass, Greengrass’s younger sister.

They had been wary of the idea at first, what with the girl being betrothed to Malfoy, but it appeared the young girl had no sense of loyalty to the Malfoy heir yet; only having a small handful of interactions with him that were no doubt supervised by both kids’ parents.

The Greengrass sisters seemed to fit in seamlessly, the younger one sticking near her sister most of the time. Their first meeting had been the one just before Halloween and they’ve made a point to make each one since then.

The last— and biggest gamble— of their choices was Theodore Nott. Or Theo as he was heard to be preferred to be called.

Adrian and Graham had made a point to tread carefully when meeting with the boy, talking to Marcus first to get any kind of information on Nott and how he was raised. His grandfather’s views continued to remain the same, while loyal to the Dark Lord’s previous causes he wasn’t involved in the ranks— hadn't been since the Dark Lord’s clear descent into madness.

Nott seemed to follow his grandfather’s lead, not surprising considering he was raised by the man alone for almost his entire life. As such, Adrian and Graham made the choice not to bring up the Dark Lord in any way, shape, or form, not even alluding to him.

The subject was broached as simply a means of learning information that they were not learning under Umbridge’s teachings. They stressed the importance of secrecy as no doubt the woman would lose it if she found out they were learning spells behind her back. The reserved fifth-year did join in the end, carefully wording his answer and making no promises to stick around or show up to every meeting. He was obviously met with a lot more suspicion considering his father was a proven and still clearly loyal follower of the Dark Lord, but Rose’s brother had been quick to shut down any complaints.

It wasn’t until the first meeting in the beginning of December that nearly everyone had been relaxed and eager to be at their study session. Word had travelled fast about Umbridge’s sacking and when Dumbledore announced it over dinner everyone had been quick to cheer, the Slytherins having far more grace and dignity than the other houses.

A temporary professor had been put in place and he was about as average as they came. He let them actually use wands though, so everyone had been thrilled to have him.

A few days after Umbridge had been gone the school found out why exactly. The headline of the Daily Prophet had been one to see, proclaiming that the Ministry assigned Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had been using a Blood Quill on two students as punishment.

It didn’t take anyone long to piece together that those two students had been Rose and Harry, and there were a good number of those in their club that had expressed their concern, asking if they wanted to take a break from their meetings.

Others asked if they would still have meetings now that Umbridge was gone.

Most had been eager to keep up their lessons, some because there was just starting to be talk about tackling the Patronus Charm soon and they wanted to find out their own. Harry had given his agreement to keeping up the meetings but had gone to Professor McGonagall and told her straight out about it.

The woman had given him a firm look that had Harry wanting to fidget but he strongly resisted, before she gave him a soft smile as she expressed her admiration at both his and his sister’s efforts in helping their classmates. She also gave them both fifty points each and assured them that their club need not be so secretive now and that it was more than okay for them to continue meeting up.

Word quickly spread after that, others wanting to join but Harry and the others maintaining that if they let everyone in things would get far too hectic. Perhaps they would add more on a later date but for this year, they’d stick to the original group.

Perhaps next year a more official club, one led by an actual competent professor, could be created and everyone who wanted to join could.

All in all, as December quickly rolled in everyone had been in pretty high spirits. Soon the holidays were approaching, and Harry and Rose were both eager to go home— something neither of them thought they’d ever say. Hermione had plans to stay at Hogwarts over the break, determinedly saying that she was too busy to leave as her hats were quickly running out and she would need the entirety of her winter break to make more, while Ron planned to go home, mostly so he wouldn’t be forced to help Hermione on her crusade.

There was a point when Rose quietly asked Harry if he planned on informing Hermione that Dobby was the only one in possession of all her hats— to which Harry shook his head with wide eyes.

Malfoy was as irksome as ever, now throwing insults at Harry for going crying to his godfather over a little detention. Hardly a good insult as A; a Blood Quill was an old torture device, so it was hardly a ‘little’ detention, and B; Malfoy had been known to go crying to his father over far less serious stuff.

Mrs. Weasley had sent an invite via Ron to spend the holidays with the Weasleys— in true Ron fashion the invite had been forgotten about until just before their break was set to happen— and while normally Harry and Rose would’ve jumped at the chance, this year they gently declined the offer but made sure their gratefulness was known.

Hopefully Mrs. Weasley took the decline as well as Ron had.

While Rose knew Mrs. Weasley no doubt would like them to be around over the holidays— had always sent gifts and never said a word as her sons chose to stay behind with the twins during the winter breaks before; a small, far more cynical, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if it was Dumbledore subtly urging the invite this year.

Another bit of bright news alongside Umbridge’s firing, both Harry and the Weasley twins had been reinstated on the Gryffindor Quidditch team; Angelina had looked near tears at the news, the girl most definitely not looking forward to replacing three of her players on such short notice.

The last meeting, two days before their break, was one for reviewing spells, Harry not keen on starting up a new spell if they were going to be leaving for two weeks. There were some complaints— read: Zacharias Smith— and some sarcastic comments in, reply— read: Fred— but all in all it was a great last meeting.

Harry had finally cleared the air with Cho as well. The girl’s interest in Harry finally having her make some form of move only to be awkwardly declined by Harry. She wasn’t terribly broken up about as Harry had made sure to explain that it had nothing to do with her but rather, after what happened with Cedric, he thought neither of them were at all in a place to start some kind of relationship.

He got a chaste kiss in the end, both of them in a slightly better place after their talk and Harry feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Ron had been far more enthusiastic about the kiss than Harry had, much to Rose’s amusement.

Of course, it was not long after this, that very night actually, where things took a sour turn. The fifth-year Gryffindor boys had been abruptly awoken in the middle of the night by a rather harried looking Professor McGonagall. She quickly ushered both Harry and Ron, though her hand remained firmly on the latter's arm, out of the room and down to the common room where Ginny was waiting alongside Fred and George, and Hermione, all four looking worried. The sight of his three siblings brought together like this had Ron paling, his freckles stark on his face.

“What’s going on? What happened?”

Professor McGonagall didn’t answer Ron’s question, shaking her head silently, her lips pressed tightly together, before waving them onward. The group quickly strode down the halls and were surprised when they turned a corner and saw someone standing there waiting.

“Ro’?”

“Miss Potter, what are you doing out here?” Professor McGonagall said, more in surprise than actual reprimand.

Rose just lifted an item in her hand and Harry instantly recognized the mirror. “Sirius called you?” He got a solemn nod and that had the rest of the kids sharpening their gaze on her. “You know what’s going on, don’t you?”

Professor McGonagall cut off any chance for questioning before any of the Weasleys could even open their mouths. “Dumbledore will explain,” she said in a tight voice, gesturing for Rose to join them.

“What did she say to you?” Ron asked his sister in a whisper.

Ginny shook her head. “Nothing, she told me to run and get Fred and George before she woke up Hermione and went to get the two of you.” Ginny had ran; already coming back downstairs with her brothers as Professor McGonagall was going up.

In a few more turns, and a sharp, “Shoo!” to Mrs. Norris, they reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

“Fizzing Whizbee,” Professor McGonagall said.

The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continuously upward like a spiral escalator. The group stepped onto the moving stairs; the wall closed behind them with a thud, and they were moving upward in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin.

Though it was now well past midnight, there were voices coming from inside the room, a positive babble of them. It sounded as though Dumbledore was entertaining at least a dozen people.

Professor McGonagall rapped three times with the griffin knocker, and the voices ceased abruptly as though someone had switched them all off. The door opened of its own accord and Professor McGonagall led them all inside.

The room was strangely alit considering it was the middle of the night; the strange silver instruments standing on tables were silent and still rather than whirring and emitting puffs of smoke as they usually did. The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snoozing in their frames. Behind the door, a magnificent red-and-gold bird the size of a swan dozed on its perch with its head under its wing.

“Good, good, you’ve brought them all,” Dumbledore said at the sight of them, his hands clasped together from where he stood near the fireplace. He was wearing a magnificently embroidered purple-and-gold dressing gown over a snowy-white nightshirt, but seemed wide awake, his penetrating light-blue eyes fixed intently upon Professor McGonagall before moving to the wide-eyed children.

“Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix,” Dumbledore told the Weasley children quietly. “He has been taken to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to the Burrow where Sirius will be waiting for you, your mother is already at St. Mungo’s.”

“How’re we going?” Fred asked, looking shaken. “Floo powder?”

“No,” Dumbledore said, “I'd rather not risk you travelling via Floo Powder in this state.”  He scanned their pale faces for a brief moment then gestured to a simple, black kettle. “You shall take a Portkey.”

“Now, come here, then,” Dumbledore said. “I trust you have all used a Portkey before?” He got simultaneous nods at the question.

Dumbledore eyed them all, their group now in a circle around him, or around the kettle, before he glanced at the twins. “Have there been any happenings with your scars this evening?” He asked them, his gaze piercing.

Harry frowned while Rose just stared blankly at Dumbledore’s crooked nose. “No, sir, there hasn’t,” Harry told him silently, somewhat reluctant to talk given Sirius’s instructions this past summer. He faintly realized that they had already broken them considering they came here without waiting for their godfather. Although, Sirius knew they were here since he called Rose and it was Professor McGonagall that asked for them, not Dumbledore.

“Are you sure?”

Harry resisted the urge to scowl. His best friend's dad was currently injured, likely very seriously considering they were fleeing in the middle of the night, and Dumbledore seemed more concerned with questioning his and Rose’s scars. “I’m sure,” he said firmly.

Dumbledore only paused for a second, then looked back around at the others. “Alright. On the count of three then,” he said, and they each reached out to touch some part of the kettle. “One... two...” His eyes shifted to Harry and Rose, seemingly unsure which of them to focus on. “... three”

There was a powerful jerk behind their navels and the ground vanished from beneath their feet, hands all glued to the kettle. They banged into one another as they all sped forward in a swirl of colours and a rush of wind the kettle pulling them onward and then—

Their feet hit the ground, knees buckling and toes stinging, and distantly the sound of the kettle hitting the ground could be heard.

Harry pushed himself to his feet, feeling and hand on his arm helping him up, and looked around quickly. They were back in the Weasley family home, though it was much dimmer than it normally was, only a few torches lit here and there. Sirius was looking over them all, dressed in expensive looking robes and a worried expression on his face. 

Letting go of Harry, he reached out to help Ginny up while Rose gave Hermione a hand; Fred, George and Ron already having pushed themselves up. “You alright?” He asked quietly, looking them over with a careful eye.

“What’s going on?” Fred asked instead.

Sirius swallowed and gestured over to the table; the chairs all pushed in neatly. “Have a seat,” he told them, lifting a hand when George opened his mouth in a clear refusal. “Your father is alive as far as we know, but I’ll explain the rest once you’re sitting down.”

Mouths snapping shut, the group all reluctantly sat down, Sirius remaining standing until they were all seated after which he took the chair at the end of the table. “Your mother had gotten up about fifteen minutes ago for a drink of water. On her way to the kitchen, she noticed your father’s hand had moved from ‘work’ to ‘mortal peril’.”

They all froze at this news, Ginny reaching out to grab Hermione’s hand tightly, her face pale as she waited for Sirius to continue.

“Molly Floo called Dumbledore instantly and he sent back-up to the last place your father was known to be,” Sirius went on, his face solemn in a way it almost never was. “When they arrived, they found your father on the ground, from the looks of it he had been attacked by Voldemort’s snake, Nagini. As it’s well known, the snake has a highly poisonous venom and he had to be rushed to St. Mungo’s. Dumbledore sent Fawkes with a letter to me, telling me to come here and wait for you while your mother went directly to St. Mungo’s”

“We’ve got to go to St. Mungo’s,” Ginny said urgently, looking around at her brothers, all of whom were still in their pajamas. “We have clothes upstairs, we can go and—”

Sirius cut her off. “Hang on, you can’t go tearing off to St. Mungo’s.”

“’Course we can go to St. Mungo’s if we want,” Fred said sharply, pushing up from the table in a stand, George instantly doing the same. “He’s our dad!”

“I was sent here to keep an eye on you until your mother came back—”

“This is our dad dying we’re talking about!” George shouted.

Sirius stood slowly, hands resting on the tabletop as he kept his voice forcibly calm. “What happened to you father involved the Order—”

“We don’t care about the dumb Order!” Fred shouted.

Sirius shook his head. “Your father does,” he said point blank. “Your father was doing work for the Order; he was found in an area he had no business being in. His job is already on the line without you all rushing in there and saying the wrong things in your panic.”

None of the Weasleys looked at all happy about this while Hermione looked hesitant and Harry and Rose both just nodded trustingly at Sirius’s words. The man had an understanding expression on his face, but he remained unrelenting on his stance.

Sirius sat back down, silently urging the twins to do so as well with a look. Neither of them moved for a few long moments, staring at Sirius with angry expressions, then Ginny grabbed George’s hand, shooting him a look that was both soft and sad. With heavy sighs, Fred and George took a seat, George squeezing his sister's hand while Fred clenched his jaw.

“From what I’ve heard, you two boys have been all about trying to be members of the Order.” Sirius said quietly, his voice not accusing or condemning in any way. “It’s time you understand what that means, it’s time you understand that if you sign up, this is a situation you might wind up in again.”

Fred scoffed. “You’re not even in the Order.”

Sirius just smiled half-heartedly. “It’s situations like this that kept me from signing up again. I was tired of being put in positions where if I did anything I could be making things even worse because of all the secrets involved with life in the Order.”

Having their hands tied because they learnt information via the Order and had no other way of explaining how they knew. Forced to stand aside and wait for news with certain people because if people found out you were concerned, they’d ask how you knew one another. The Order was living a life of secrets, pretending not to know certain people while acting like you didn’t know other bits of information.

“The Order, by definition of Ministry Law, is considered a terrorist group. If it is discovered, then any and all members would be arrested and charged, just like the Death Eaters.”

Ginny frowned. “The Order is the good guys though,” she said quietly.

“That doesn’t matter in the eyes of the law,” Sirius told her. “The Order is a group taking matters into their own hands and ignoring any laws while doing so. People cannot just do that.” He drummed his fingers on the table, glancing across at their faces, all eyes watching him. “The Order has the right intentions, and the Ministry can be corrupt, but we can’t just do what we want when we want it, that’s how chaos starts. There needs to be structure and order for a community of people to function.”

Rose, for one, was glad Sirius was saying all of this. The Weasleys and Hermione seemed to have such an idealized outlook on the Order, seeing it the same way they saw the Defence Association; without setbacks or flaws.

Maybe it was because they never truly felt the effects of war; at least not in the direct sense. Their uncles were the closest they lost and they had been young when that happened, it mostly would’ve affected the two eldest one of whom was not involving himself in the war at all.

And Hermione, being a Muggleborn, had never even known of the war until she arrived in the magical world and looked it up.

Harry and Rose understood things a lot better. They lost any hope of a decent childhood and formed a way of thinking that led to them putting each other before anything else; including the rest of the world. Rose didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to risk losing her brother and Harry didn’t want to lose Rose, didn’t want to leave his sister alone after years of promising they’d always have each other.

The Weasley children and Hermione were largely untouched by war. Had gone on living in fantasy tales told about the twins’ lives and until recently had lived a fairly unconcerned life. Sure, they didn’t have a lot of money and things got a bit tight at times, but they consistently had each other.

Now, between one day and the next, they found themselves in a situation where they thought they might lose their father and their hands were tied for a largely stupid reason. Their father was injured on duty for the Order and the adults didn’t want to risk taking them to see him because they didn’t trust them not to mention the Order in their panic.

“I’ll make you some tea,” Sirius said at last, slowly standing when the silence dragged on. “I don’t know when or how your mother will deliver any news but we might as well have a drink while we wait.”

Fred and George glared mulishly as Sirius waltzed into the kitchen while Rose glanced over at the fireplace, wondering why Sirius trusted they wouldn’t use the Floo once he left. She got her answer when she couldn’t spot the familiar Weasley family Floo Pot.

Mind you, the twins could just Apparate out, had loads of practice at it over the summer. That is if they’ve ever seen St. Mungo’s; they would need to have in order to Apparate there.

“What did Sirius say when he called you?”

Rose glanced over at her brother, his question drawing mildly curious looks from the others as well. “He told me Ron’s dad was hurt, that Professor McGonagall was going to fetch you all and to make my way towards Dumbledore’s office.”

Harry nodded. He figured Sirius would have been brief and hurried when he told Rose, no doubt not wanting her to be stuck at Hogwarts by herself with the rest of them gone.

That started what was easily one of the longest nights of their lives. Sirius brought out the tea, placing cups in front of them and the sugar and milk in the middle of the table. At one point he suggested sitting in the living room, at least the seats were more comfortable, but all the Weasley children remained stubbornly at the kitchen table.

Fred fell into a doze, his head sagging sideways onto his chair. Ginny was curled up on her chair, leaning against George with her eyes wide open. It was hard to say whether Ron was awake or not, his head in his hands.

It wasn’t until ten past five in the morning that something happened. The flames in the fireplace suddenly spurred to life, turning a bright green that had everyone sitting up, and Mrs. Weasley stepped on through. She was extremely pale but when they all looked up at her, Fred and Ron half-rising from their chairs, she gave them a wan smile.

“He’s going to be alright,” she said, her voice weak with tiredness. “He’s sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill’s sitting with him now, he’s going to take the morning off work.”

Fred fell back in his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny wasted no time in getting up, rushing swiftly over to their mother, and hugging her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and drained the rest of his long since cold tea.

“How ‘bout some breakfast!” Sirius said loudly, a grin on his face. “Molly, you ought to be hungry, all of you must be, I’ll make us some bacon and eggs— and toast—” He was already moving towards the kitchen and Harry and Rose were quick to go and help, Hermione following along while Mrs. Weasley comforted her children.

It didn’t take them long to make the meal, George ushering his mother to sit down when she tried to help with the cooking. Soon the table was filled with plates of bacon and sausages, a bowl filled with scrambled eggs, a tall stack of toast and all the extras they would need to go with the meal.

“Thank you for staying with the kids, Sirius,” Molly said at one point, shooting the man a tired but grateful look.

Sirius waved the thanks off. “It’s really not a problem, Molly. This is not even half of what you’ve done for Harry and Rosie, so—” He gave an easy shrug, winking at the twins in question.

“Is everything going to be okay with Dad’s job?” Ginny asked quietly.

Molly nodded. “Yes, Dumbledore’s been able to think up a good cover story for your father being where he was, I can’t imagine the trouble he would have been in otherwise, just look at poor Sturgis...”

“Sturgis?” Ron repeated, the name sounding familiar.

“He was found in the same area,” Sirius answered Ron, leaning back in seat, his arm resting on the back of Harry’s chair. “He was sentenced to Azkaban for it.”

“Azkaban? Just for being in an area of the Ministry?” George said incredulously. “Where was he?”

“That’s not important—” Molly cut in sternly. “All that matters is your father is going to be okay, he’ll be at St. Mungo’s for the next little while... but hopefully he should be back good to go by Christmas...”

“When can we see him?”

“I think we should all get some rest first, once we’re done eating, we’ll wake up later and have some lunch before heading to St. Mungo’s, alright?” Molly said more than asked, shooting her kids a look.

Sirius clapped his hands together. “I agree,” he said looking around at their mostly empty plates. “You guys head on upstairs and get some sleep, me, Harry, and Rosie can make use of your couches.”

Molly instantly looked troubled. “Oh, dear, we don’t even have the beds they normally used set up and Ginny’s room only has the one extra bed,” she fretted.

“Don’t worry about it, Molly. I’m no slouch with transfiguration, I’ll make us some beds and Hermione can use the spare upstairs, you just rest for a while.” Sirius stood up, giving the Weasley children a meaningful look that had them all standing as well, Ginny grabbing hold of her mom's arm to gently lead her upstairs.

Harry and Rose started to gather the plates, emptying the small bits of food in the trash before depositing them in the sink. Hermione looked for a second like she was going to come help but when Ron stayed rooted in his seat, she reached out to urge him to move, quietly steering him up the stairs, glancing back and sharing a faint nod with Harry and Rose.

“Hope you don’t mind me passing on a bed for you two,” Sirius said with a grin from his spot at the end of their little assembly line. Harry was washing, Rose was drying, and Sirius was putting things away.

Harry snorted.  “Don’t worry, we’ve slept in worse places.”

That had Sirius scrunching his nose, but he didn’t let himself dwell on that, understanding that it was normal for Harry to joke about their past at this age, he himself did it a lot as a teenager too. “Your trunks should be delivered by morning,” he told them as he put the last of the dishes away, crossing to the table to put the jam and such away. “After we go with the Weasleys to St. Mungo’s, I’m thinking we’ll go back home.”

“Do you think they’ll be okay with us gone?” Harry asked worriedly.

Sirius smiled as he put the last of their utensils away and moved to the living room, the twins following close behind. “Bill should be here tomorrow, and he’ll look after his mother and siblings. Besides, I think seeing their father should have the kids feeling more at ease.”

“What about Hermione?”

“I imagine she’ll stay here,” Sirius shrugged. “Her trunk will be brought here and it seems she has a bed already.”

The way Sirius was speaking was very casual as he worked on transfiguring the Weasley family couches into beds but Rose wasn’t entirely sure she believed he was as relaxed as he appeared. As she sat on what would be her bed, toeing off her shoes absently, she reached out to poke his back making him turn from finishing the last bed; Harry’s bed.

Sirius turned around and Rose lifted a brow, an obvious question on her face that made Sirius sigh and sit on his own bed, watching idly as Harry hopped on his bed as well.

“What happened to Arthur...” he started slowly, clasping his hands together. “It was an Order incident, which means other members will be coming along and getting involved soon. There’s a good chance they’ll be in and out the Burrow throughout the holidays and... honestly, I don’t want either of you anywhere near that.”

That was fine with Rose. While she did want to show her support to the Weasley family she didn’t want to be brought back into Dumbledore’s circle of influence because of this.

“I know Mad-eye and Dore are supposed to be coming in the morning, they’ll join us on the trip to St. Mungo’s.” Sirius told them both, his hand running along the edge of his bed. “When the Weasleys come back here we’ll take the Floo to Grimmauld Place, I’ll make sure Kreacher comes to get both of your trunks before we get back home.”

Harry nodded silently. He understood Sirius’ worries, as much as he didn’t want to think about it, Dumbledore did seem overly interested in him and Rose— or, at the very least, their scars— even though they had really nothing to do with what happened to Mr. Weasley. Harry wasn’t sure what Dumbledore was waiting for, what he was looking for, all he knew was that he and Rose? They didn’t have it.

“Enough talk for tonight,” Sirius said suddenly, making both twins jump, much to his amusement. “Let’s get a couple hours of sleep while we can.”

Neither twin made a sound of protest, both of them getting under the covers and curling up on their beds. They both watched with heavy eyes as Sirius lifted his wand and put out each of the torches until the soft glow of the rising morning sun was the only light they had. They shut their eyes, listening to faint sounds around them; the ticking of a clock, the soft blow of the wind outside. It didn’t take long for sleep to find them, their minds tired from the hectic night and ready for a bit of a rest.

Chapter Text

The next day— or, later on that day, just after lunch, their group made their way to St. Mungo’s together. Sirius had been right of Moody and Tonks joining them on their trip, the latter of whom was as paranoid as ever.

Not that anyone could blame him considering the events of last year.

St. Mungo’s was not an unfamiliar sight to Harry and Rose, the both of them being brought here last year by Sirius, but the area they found themselves in that day was. They were on the first floor which was designated for those with bite injuries, among others.

Mr. Weasley looked very well all things considered. When they first arrived, Tonks had suggested that it ought to be just the family first and Moody was quick to give his approval, setting up post at the door in wait. Mrs. Weasley had insisted that the twins and Sirius joined, grateful for their help during this time.

The ward Mr. Weasley was in had been small and rather dingy and apparently one of his roommates had been bitten by a werewolf. He had been happy to see them all, speaking as brightly as he always did much to the relief of everyone. The Weasley children had each been eager to give their father a hug, the tension they had been carrying since last night finally leaving their shoulders.

It had been an interesting visit. Fred and George had questioned about what happened, whether the attack would be in the Prophet, where their father had been when it happened. Normally the twins would sound a lot more eager than they had, especially considering they knew it was Order business, but their hearts clearly weren’t in it as much as they once would have been.

Rose couldn’t help but wonder if Sirius’ words had gotten to them.

The twin’s clearly thought this was about ‘the weapon’. Ron had excitedly told Harry and Rose about the so-called weapon when they finally reunited at school and had some time alone. He, the twins, and Ginny had been theorizing nonstop about it since one of the Order members let slip that they were guarding something the Dark Lord needed.

Obviously the first thing on their minds was that he needed a weapon.

While the Weasley twins had discussed this so-called weapon with enthusiasm before, and they still did for the most part, now there was a lingering sound of hesitance in their voice, especially now that their father had been injured guarding it.

It goes to say that neither Harry nor Rose mentioned that Sirius had taken them to see the weapon— which was in fact not a weapon but simply a prophecy. Harry had feelings of guilt listening to the Weasleys rambling theories about the weapon while he sat around listening, all the while knowing the truth. He’d tell Ron and Hermione eventually, but considering he had no intentions of fighting in this war, he was worried they’d be disappointed or even angry at him when they knew what the Prophecy said.

The kids had been sent into the hall after one question too many, Mrs. Weasley saying that Moody and Tonks wanted to talk to Mr. Weasley, the former asking Sirius to stick behind as the kids were ushered into the hall.

Once the adults were in the room, they shut the door behind them which had Fred raising a brow, a look of stubbornness coming across his face. “Fine,” he said coolly. “Don’t tell us anything.”

George easily dug into his pockets pulling out a fleshy coloured object. “Shall we?”

“You read my mind,” Fred said, grinning. “Let’s see if St. Mungo’s puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?”

The two disentangled a series of strings, separating now five ‘Extendable Ears’, as the twin’s called them, and handing them out to the others. Harry hesitated to grab the one held out to him, watching as Ginny and Hermione shared one, Fred, George, and Ron each holding their own.

“Go on, Harry, take it! You and Rosie should get a listen too, seemed like Dumbledore thought this involved the two of you too...” Fred pointed out.

Rose was the one to grab the ear, lifting the string end up near her ear with a raised brow at Harry. Sure, she didn’t want to be involved, but that didn’t mean she was going to miss an opportunity to eavesdrop on this self-named Order.

“Okay, go!” Fred whispered.

The flesh-colored strings wriggled like long skinny worms, then snaked under the door. For a few seconds Harry could hear nothing, then he heard Tonks whispering as clearly as though she were standing right beside him.

“...they searched the whole area, but they couldn’t find the snake anywhere, it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur... But You-Know-Who can’t have expected a snake to get in, can he?”

“I reckon he sent it as a lookout,” Moody growled, “’cause he’s not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he’s trying to get a clearer picture of what he’s facing and if Arthur hadn’t been there the beast would’ve had much more time to look around. Did those kids of yours hear anything?”

The question must’ve been directed at Sirius, as he was the one who answered. “No. They didn’t.”

“Dumbledore seemed worried that they’d have a dream about it, or something,” Mrs. Weasley said fretfully.

“Harry and Rosie haven’t had dreams about Voldemort since the beginning of the summer.”

“That you know of,” Moody grumbled.

“They’d tell me,” Sirius said surely. “The lot of you just want them to, so you can prove something.”

“Or maybe you’re just in denial about what needs to be done,” Moody countered back resolutely. “You know they’ll be involved in this eventually.”

There was a scoff heard. “No, it’s Dumbledore who wants them involved. Let’s be real here, he hasn’t even told any of you about it, has he? Yet here you are, so sure Harry and Rosie need to be involved and Dumbledore himself isn’t even offering any explanations.”

“Dumbledore has seemed worried lately,” Tonks offered hesitantly. “He seems to think something’s gonna happen with the twins—”

“There isn’t.” Sirius snapped. “Harry and Rosie aren’t getting involved. This is exactly why I’m taking them home today; you think I don’t know you’re all watching them for any signs of... anything!”

“Sirius—” Tonks got cut off before she could attempt to calm the man.

“No,” Sirius said sharply, then let out a heavy breath. The anger was gone from his voice leaving only a faintly weary sound when he spoke again. “Arthur, I’m glad to see you’re okay, but I hope you and Molly don’t mind if I take the twin’s home now. I have stuff I wanted to do with them during their break.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Weasley said softly. “This will be your first holiday with them in so long, you should go enjoy it. Make sure to come by for dinner soon, maybe when Arthur’s out.”

“Of course,” Sirius said in turn.

Fred wacked George’s arm at this. “Quick! Stash them!”

The group of kids scrambled to hand their ears to the twins while simultaneously backing away from the door, quick to sit, and stand, on the opposite end of the hall and try to look casual. They didn’t fully succeed as Fred leaned awkwardly on one arm against the wall, George had his hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to make it look like a pose rather than him hiding anything. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny did a somewhat better job than the twins, all sitting against the wall though their heads were each turned in different directions.

That was the sight that met Sirius when he stepped into the hall, as well as the fondly judgemental look of Rose as she stared at the entirely unsubtle group of Gryffindors.

He wisely decided not to comment. “You two ready to go?” Sirius asked Harry and Rose.

Rose nodded while Harry pushed himself to a stand, dusting off any lingering dust as he glanced at his friends, both of whom he could tell were beyond curious about what they overheard. He wasn’t sure what to tell them, wasn’t sure when he and Rose would bring up the Prophecy. It wasn’t something they had discussed with one another yet, more of an unspoken agreement not to bring it up hanging in the air around them.

“We’ll see you guys soon, hopefully,” Harry said to them.

“We’ll come over for dinner once your dad is set free,” Sirius said with an easy grin, getting smiles in response from the kids. He lifted an arm gesturing with his hands for the twins to join him, and easily swung an arm over each of their shoulders when they did.

“First things first,” Sirius said as they moved down the hall, a smile still on his face, “we’re going to put up some decorations! I waited for you two to get back to start.”

Yule— or Christmas, depending on your preference— with Sirius was an absolute dream. True to their godfather’s word, Kreacher had gone to gather Harry and Rose’s things from the Burrow and had made sure to have a rabbit ready in the backyard for Jörmy once Rose got home to let him out.

The first two days the twins decorated their home with Sirius while Kreacher baked a few Yule treats, the smell of them wafting up the stairs. Harry was glad when the elf would bring them small trays with a few of the treats whenever one was finished.

They hung up mistletoes and holly, and put up pillars of candles in an assortment of colours; red, green, gold, white and silver. Rose insisted upon putting together a Yule log, one for the informal parlour and another for their living room upstairs. They put a tree in the living room as well, Harry and Rose making popcorn garland together, carefully adding them to the string before wrapping it around the tree.

Sirius had gone to their family vaults and took out some old Potter decorations that their father had apparently packed away each year, not having yet taken them out the year they passed. Among them were two decorative bulbs, one in red and the other green, with tiny handprints. On the red one there was an obviously hand-printed-with-care, ‘Harry’s first Yule’, while Rose’s, the green one, had ‘Rose’s first Yule’.

The chosen colour scheme of them had Rose smiling, looking up at Sirius questioningly from her spot next to Harry on the floor in front of the couch, the box open between them.

Sirius had just shrugged with a grin. “Don’t ask me, Lily picked out the colours, she was very sure that they’d suit you, and Jamie seemed to agree.”

Harry laughed at that, continuing to dig through the box of items, and pulled out a Santa hat with antlers attached to it and lifted it up to perch it on his head. Sirius chuckled at the sight.

“Moony got him that one,” Sirius told them, straightening it on Harry’s head. “He found it in a Muggle shop and thought it’d be hilarious.”

In an obviously wintery frame, which likely explained why it was packed with the Yule stuff, was a picture of their parents, both wearing Santa hats, with the twins on their laps. It was hard to tell who was who out of the twins, but if they went by the bulbs made for them, then the baby in their father’s lap, dressed in a green jumpsuit, was Rose while their mother was holding Harry, wearing a red matching jumpsuit. There was a decorative tree in the background and, from what they could see in frame, the rest of the house was also decorated.

It was a typical magical picture, staying still for the first few seconds before they began to move, Harry and Rose’s chubby baby hands waving about while their parents silently laughed, both of them leaning down simultaneously to press what was clearly a noisy kiss to the baby in their laps’ cheek. They looked happy. They looked like any other family out there, happily posing for a holiday picture together, their parents seeming so young and carefree.

“Lily was going to have that picture be a tradition,” Sirius said quietly, sitting down behind them to look at the picture over their shoulders. “She said, ‘every year, same spot, same decorations; then we can put them all together and watch them grow right before our eyes.’”

It struck Rose as a bit ironic that, since their parents took pictures of them, those were the last photos taken of them until their second year when the overly eager Colin Creevy decided to take pictures of them.

Merlin knew that the Dursley’s would choke and die before they took, let alone hung up, a picture of either Harry or Rose.

Despite the somber air that filled the room after finding the picture, the rest of the evening was upbeat, Sirius taking the opportunity to play some Muggle Christmas songs which echoed throughout the house.

The day after decorating was designated for relaxing. The three of them lounged about, either reading books and magazines, napping or anything else that didn’t involve too much effort.

Rose made up for this rather unproductive— but very nice and relaxing— day the next morning. She grabbed both Sirius and Harry and dragged them down into the kitchen. While Kreacher had made a series of more finicky treats that were tricky to get right, Rose had kept a list of more simple ones for the three of them to bake together.

Which is what they did for the entire day, their meals consisting of simple sandwiches and tastes of their baked goods in between. They made an assortment of cookies and dainties, as well as bread, the normal kind and the banana kind. Harry had made a fruit cake while Rose made a tray of brownies, Sirius hovering over them both waiting to help in some way.

By the end of the day, they had far more treats than they really needed, but Rose had looked pleased at the sight so neither Sirius nor Harry complained. Their next step, apparently, was to put a few of each treat on decorative trays, so they all looked appealing. She told Sirius that she wanted to give a tray to the Weasleys, or perhaps two considering the size of the family, as well as one to Remus.

Said man had stopped by for a visit the following day and thanked them gratefully for the tray and promised to deliver the Weasleys theirs, as well as the presents Harry, Rose and Sirius got for the family.

They spent the rest of the days doing a variety of activities together. One day they built Gingerbread houses— or Gingerbread villages to be more accurate, Harry and Rose getting in a competition to see who could build the best one. Another day Rose had them go outside, where the snow had been cleared from the ground revealing the dirt underneath and perform a series of rituals intended for Yule time. That same day Sirius had taken some older wards that were weak and mostly unworking and added a few new ones. One evening Sirius had put together a bonfire just like he had in the summer and the three of them sat around it wrapped in blankets and talked about their goals for the upcoming year.

By the morning of Yule, they were all practically floating with the happy feeling that seemed to fill their home. Harry and Rose had Kreacher bring their mattresses down to the living room the night before and had dragged their blankets and pillows down as well. They camped out in front of the fireplace, which had a fire Kreacher kept going through the night, and they awoke with their creatively decorated tree in sight.

Underneath the tree were an assortment of presents. Poor Remus, as the only one who knew where they were living, had been assigned the task of delivering presents intended for the house’s three occupants. He had brought over presents from the Weasleys, as well as Hermione, Hagrid, Tonks and Dobby; also among the list of gifts were ones from Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks for Sirius. The few that somewhat amused Harry were the ones from Rose’s Slytherin friends, Marcus, Adrian, and Graham— Remus had been the one to bring them and he wondered if the boys mailed them to him or just tracked him down somewhere.

“Good morning, my darlings!”

Both twins glanced at the door as Sirius waltzed in, a grin on his face and a Santa hat on his head.

“Good morning,” Harry mumbled around a yawn, pushing himself out of the mass of blankets surrounding him. He was glad when he still felt nice and warm even after leaving the warmth of the blankets, it was a bit colder than he had been, but the room was pretty toasty with the fire going on all night.

Rose pushed herself to a sitting position, not getting off the bed but crossing her legs underneath the blankets, her ankles now tucked under the opposite knees. She watched quietly as Harry sorted the gifts, one pile for him, one for Rose, one for him and Rose and the last for Sirius.

“I talked to Molly last night, she thinks Arthur should be home in two days' time, so she invited us to go eat,” Sirius told them, plopping onto the couch closest to Harry.

Harry glanced up at him. “So, Mr. Weasley is alone at St. Mungo’s?” He asked in a worried tone, making Rose and Sirius smile.

“No,” Sirius said consolingly. “Molly said they were having a Christmas lunch and then they were all going to see him.”

Oh, well that was good.

They busied themselves with opening presents after that, Harry dutifully handing Rose and Sirius theirs and then waiting patiently for Rose to finish opening hers so they could open their joint gifts together. Rose had nodded for him to start but he stubbornly waited until she could do it too.

After they were done, Harry crawled back onto the bed, squashing his face against his pillow and shutting his eyes once more. They didn’t have the cleanup they normally would as Kreacher gathered any discarded wrapping paper as soon as they took it off their gifts.

“Can I go see Marcus that day?”

Sirius glanced at Rose in surprise, not because she spoke but because of her question. “Instead of the Weasleys?” He asked incredulously.

Rose huffed and shook her head. “No, I mean, after we’re done eating and visiting for a bit, can I meet Marcus? Just for an hour or so then come back to the Weasleys?”

Sirius frowned in thought. While he did want to say yes, he knew Rose didn’t get to see the boy who was clearly one of her best friends that often due to him having long since graduated, he was also wary of having Rose out of his sight. He looked down to where Rose was still sitting on the bed, staring up at him with wide green eyes, and pulled a face of great reluctance. “I don’t know, Rosie...”

“Please,” Rose said, well aware that Harry had opened his eyes again and was watching her carefully. “You can even make me a timed Portkey that’ll bring me back in an hour if that makes you feel better...”

She got a smile at that, Sirius openly amused at her attempts at persuasion. The idea did make him feel better, the thought that no matter where she went or if she wound up getting in trouble that she’d be pulled back to him in an hour. Plus, she’d have Flint, Sirius knew enough by now to know the boy would protect Rose with his life if he had to.

“Alright,” he said slowly, Rose grinning brightly instantly. “But! I’m doing the Portkey thing, one hour and I’ll be assigning a key word to so if anything goes wrong you just say the word.” He opened and shut his hand consideringly before adding, “I’m going to make it a bracelet or something— just so it can’t be dropped or lost.”

Rose nodded agreeably, her grin now a pleased smirk while Harry huffed, shutting his eyes again with a smile.

Harry was nearly bouncing in front of the fireplace, feet raising up to near the tips of his toes, back to his heels and up again, over and over. He and Rose were waiting for Sirius in the main parlour, ready to Floo over the Burrow for their early supper with Weasleys. It was closer to a lunch really but somewhat too far into the day to accurately use the term lunch. The sun was still high in the sky and wouldn’t be setting for a couple more hours.

He was glad they were eating a bit early though, as it gave him more time to hang out with his friends and talk about whatever they liked.

“Ready to go?”

The twins shot Sirius identical looks that had him laughing as he walked into the room, stowing away his pocket watch. Their godfather was quick to grab a careless handful of Floo Powder and shot them a grin as he tossed it in, calling a firm, “the Burrow!” as he did so.

As the flames erupted in a now familiar green, Rose stepped forward, seamlessly moving into the flames and out of sight. Harry pulled a face before doing the same, his movements far more awkward and hesitant as he was spun around in a sea of colours until he was spat out, narrowly avoiding crashing onto his knees as a hand reached out with ease to halt his descent.

“Harry! Ro’!”

The twins stepped forward to give room for Sirius to come through and were instantly tackled by a mess of hair, two arms wrapping around each of their necks as they were pulled into hugs. You’d think Hermione’s enthusiasm wouldn’t be quite so fierce considering they saw each not too long ago; then again this was the first Christmas the twins spent without the girl since their second year.

They heard the sound of Sirius coming through, the rush of the flames calming down to their regular intensity. Glancing around the Weasley family home, once Hermione released them, the twins could see it in all its decorated glory for the first time. It was very similar to the ones at Grimmauld Place, though with far more homemade decorations that were clearly made by the Weasley children over the years.

Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen while Mr. Weasley was sitting on a comfortable looking chair in the living room just to the left of the fireplace.

“Harry! Rose!” Mrs. Weasley greeted happily, putting down the bowl and spoon in her grasp and wiping her hands quickly on the front of her frilly apron. “I’m so glad to see you two!” She said earnestly as she pulled them both into a warm hug. She reached for Sirius next, looping an arm around the man who easily did the same. “I’m glad you were able to make it,” she said as she pressed a quick kiss to Sirius’s cheek.

Sirius grinned. “We wouldn’t miss your cooking for the world, Molly. Isn't that right?” He said with a wink towards the twins. Mrs. Weasley laughed at that, patting Sirius’s cheek before she bustled back into the kitchen with a call for them to make themselves at home.

Sirius crossed into the living room. “How you feeling, Arthur?” He asked as he sat on the couch next to the pajama clad man.

Mr. Weasley gave Sirius a proud smile. “Much better! Much!” He glanced over his shoulder at the twins and said, “and Harry and Rose, thank you for the gift! It was absolutely wonderful!” 

Harry grinned while Rose lifted an awkward thumbs up. The twin’s had gotten Mr. Weasley a box of Muggle tools and wires, knowing full well that the man would appreciate that more than anything else they could get them.

“How was your Christmas?” Ron asked, drawing the twin’s attention back to him. He was dressed in a Weasley family sweater, and his expression was a happy one, looking calm and at ease.

“It was great,” Harry said enthusiastically. “We did so much on the break so far— fun stuff though.”

Ginny was sitting on the stairs that led up the rooms, grinning at the twins when they spotted her. She also had the family sweater on, though her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows.

Hermione gestured in the girl's direction. “Do you want to see what we got for Christmas?” She asked easily enough, getting a nod of agreement from the twins. As the group climbed the stairs, Ginny just ahead of them, Mrs. Weasley called out behind them.

“Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes!”

“Okay!” Ron shouted back, silently ushering Harry to hurry up.

When they got up to Ron’s room Fred and George were quick to slip inside too, grinning at the twins in greeting and tipping imaginary hats to them.

“How was your holiday?” Harry asked as he plopped down on Ron’s bed, looking around at the Chudley Cannons décor that he’s seen so many times before.

Ron shrugged. “Pretty good all around, ‘bout the same as ever.” He sat down next to Harry, pushing himself back so he could lean his back against the wall behind him, one foot coming up to rest on the bed. “Mum cried a bit on Christmas day.”

Rose frowned, shooting him a look, though it was Fred who answered.

“Percy sent back his Christmas jumper,” he told the twins heavily.

“Without a note,” George added. “Hasn’t even asked how Dad is or visited him or anything...”

Harry scowled at this news. His father was seriously injured and he couldn’t put aside their argument for a few minutes in order to go see him? While Harry always knew Percy was obsessed with making a name for himself, he never imagined he’d all but swear off his own family to help him get there. Fudge brought the Weasley into his feud with Dumbledore, clearly hoping to get some kind of information, and Percy was too blind to see it.

“We tried to comfort her,” Fred said, leaning back on the small dresser in Ron’s room, crossing his arms. “Told her Percy’s nothing more than a humongous pile of rat droppings—”

“Didn’t work,” George sighed, looking down at a Chocolate Frog he was trying to open. He glanced up when he heard a huff and caught Rose’s ‘oh really?’ expression just in time, grinning at her in response. “So Lupin took over. Better to let him cheer her up than us I suppose.”

“Lupin was here?” Harry repeated. Sirius had invited the man to their house that day but he had been unable to make it.

Fred nodded. “Order business we assume,” he said.

“Which reminds us,” Ron said, sitting up straighter, looking at Harry and Rose. “Why is Dumbledore so sure somethings going on with you? Is there?”

Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George all looked at the twins when Ron asked these questions, clearly all wondering the same thing since the day they listened in on the conversation at St. Mungo’s.

Harry shrugged either way. “I don’t know why he thinks somethings going on...” he told them slowly, frowning in thought. “Maybe ‘cause we kept dreaming about him in fourth year and since he’s gotten stronger Dumbledore thinks the dreams will too.” He looked around him with an unsure expression; this had been the only conclusion he had been able to come up with when puzzling over Dumbledore’s confusing behaviour as of late.

“They haven’t been stronger?” Hermione asked quietly.

Harry shook his head. “At first we’d get a lot of headaches and that but... I mean, that was only the beginning of the summer, none of it has really bothered us since then though.”

Ron nodded slowly, he already knew Harry and Rose hadn’t been plagued by any pain in their scars since the summer, his conversation with his friend earlier this year ringing in his ears. He just thought, with Dumbledore questioning the twins before they left Hogwarts with that Portkey and now Tonks and Moody seeming to imply Dumbledore thought something was going on...

He was relieved, mind you. He hated seeing his friends in pain and the state Harry was in when he came back from the third task had yet to fully leave Ron’s nightmares, so he was glad they seemed to find something that helped them cope.

Ron was well aware that they were keeping something from him, though he wouldn’t push the subject. The twins had both been uncommonly open about things since Sirius came along, perhaps even a bit before that, but it wasn’t hard for him to see that there was something on their minds. It weighed on Harry more heavily, though he couldn’t say for sure if that was more for keeping a secret than the actual secret itself.

He’d wait for them to bring it up, Ron knew they eventually would, and he and Hermione would help them in any way they could when they did, just like always.

“Time to eat!”

The kids all looked up at the sound of Mrs. Weasley’s call and Fred, George and Ron wasting no time in leaving the room, hurrying down the stairs. Hermione rolled her eyes towards a grinning Ginny and the two girls, plus Harry and Rose, followed them down.

The meal was, like all meals prepared by Mrs. Weasley, absolutely delicious. With a wide variety of choices each looking as good as the last, and a magically extended table to fit them all, everyone sat down and immediately got their plates ready.

It was just Sirius, Harry, Rose, and the Weasley family, barring Percy, obviously, and Charlie, who was in Romania where he was working on a dragon reserve. The conversation flowed easily, everyone telling stories and making jokes. Dinner was made even more amusing when Sirius, in the middle of telling a story about he and his friends in school, mentioned their nicknames for one another back then.

Fred and George’s jaws dropped as their eyes went wide before they swung their heads to shoot Harry and Rose's twin betrayed expressions, the sight making the two laugh.

Thankfully this had happened just as they were finishing supper, so they didn’t have to listen to the Weasley twins’ spiel of Sirius’ brilliance. The man in question looking more amused than smug at their enthusiasm, readily answering any questions the twins had.

He had been in the middle of explaining, in depth, one of the pranks they played once when Rose interrupted, the girl ignoring the somewhat indignant looks she got from the Weasley twins. She tapped at her wrist when Sirius looked up at her and he swiftly pulled out his pocket watch.

“Oh,” he said in surprise. “I didn’t even realise the time. Excuse me, boys, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He made that last promise after they shot him a wounded look, looking ready to protest his leaving.

Sirius led Rose outside, rummaging in his pockets as they went through the front door and onto the yard. He was going to Side-along Apparate Rose to the spot just outside their house and the Flint boy would meet them there.

“Ready?” He asked her, holding out his arm with a smile that he hoped didn’t look as worried as it felt. Rose nodded easily enough, grabbing hold of him and the two disappeared from the Weasley family yard.

They popped back into view in a small square of grass in between numerous houses. Both of them could see the familiar sight of their home in between houses eleven and thirteen, but the person waiting for them could not.

Marcus had a very patient expression on his face, how long he had been waiting they couldn’t say for sure, but he gave Rose a smile in greeting before nodding to Sirius. “Lord Black,” he said promptly.

Sirius smiled, mildly amused at the boy’s formality. “Heir Flint,” he replied, though he had a lot less weight and sounded far more friendly. Reaching into his pocket Sirius pulled out the bracelet, turned Portkey, that he had gotten ready for Rose and silently prompted for her to lift her wrist, which she did so dutifully.

Clasping the silver chain closed, Sirius murmured. “Remember the activation word?” Rose nodded once and Sirius let out a breath. “Okay. One hour, remember,” he said sternly, getting an amused smile. He glanced over at Marcus and narrowed his eyes at the boy.

Sirius wasn’t exactly sure what Rose’s relationship with the boy was. While he knew she was asexual that didn’t mean she was against being in any kind of romantic relationship. He also knew that Slytherin’s politics were very extensive, and Marcus was Rose’s second in command, so to speak— or at least he had been when he was in school. Sirius didn’t think him graduating would really change this though.

Regardless, Sirius did trust the boy marginally. Knew enough about him and, through the brief conversations he’s had with him since officially entering Harry and Rose’s lives, knew that Marcus would defend Rose to the best of his abilities and obviously respected her greatly.

“I want her brought back to me exactly as she’s leaving, understand?”

It was the serious nod that he got in reply that had Sirius feeling a bit less anxious. He watched as Rose moved over to Marcus, reaching out to squeeze his hand before she left his side in farewell, and grabbed onto his arm. The two wasted no time in disappearing from sight, Sirius reaching into his robes to pull out his pocket watch, checking the exact time before he forced himself to head back to the Burrow.

For the second time in just a few minutes Rose endured the uncomfortable feeling of Side-along Apparation, heavily resisting the urge to rub at her ears as they arrived at their location.

They were standing at the end of a lane that was bordered on the left by wild, low-growing brambles, on the right by a high, neatly manicured hedge. Marcus led Rose forward with an absent hand gesture, his eyes nervously glancing around them.

They turned right, into a wide driveway that led off the lane. The high yew hedge curved into them, running off into the distance beyond the pair of imposing wrought-iron gates barring their way.

“You sure about this?” Marcus asked quietly, his voice low. He spared a glance at Rose before shaking his head. “You are— I know.” He let out a sigh, fighting the urge to wipe his palms on his robes.

There was a rustle somewhere to their right and Marcus aimed his wand in the direction, but the source of the noise proved to be nothing more than a pure-white peacock, strutting majestically along the top of the hedge.

Rose smiled lightly, lifting a brow at the older boy who let out a huff. “I forgot about Malfoy’s obsession with peacocks.”

A handsome manor house grew out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive, lights glinting in the diamond paned downstairs windows. Somewhere in the dark garden beyond the hedge a fountain was playing. Gravel crackled beneath their feet as they approached the front door. They didn’t have the opportunity to knock or alert those inside of their arrival— didn’t need to really, as the door swung open and a slightly pale Lucius Malfoy opened the door, his shoulders back and his chin high.

“Heir Flint, heir Potter,” he greeted neutrally.

“Lord Malfoy,” Marcus replied quietly. The man stepped back, opening his door and gesturing for them to enter.  

The hallway was large, dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor. The eyes of the pale-faced portraits on the wall narrowed at the sight of the two new arrivals. Malfoy was a few steps ahead of them, silently telling them to follow as the door shut behind them on their own. He made it halfway across the hall before he turned to look at the two of them, a nervous twitch in his eye that he wasn’t able to fully hide.

“Miss Potter, you may continue on,” he told her, gesturing toward a heavy wooden door with a gleaming bronze handle. “Mr. Flint will wait here with me until you are finished.”

Marcus glanced at Rose, his empty hands clenching into fists at his sides, and he gave Malfoy a nod of acquiesce. Rose, in contrast to Marcus, looked mostly at ease, giving an easy nod and stepping forward without hesitation. The two watched her carefully, the faces in the portraits hanging on the walls around them doing the same, and she grasped the handle, pulling it open swiftly.

She entered what must’ve been a drawing room—she was certain there was more than just this one— there was a couch and a settee in front of a striking marble fireplace surmounted by a gilded mirror. Directly in front of her, further into the room, was a desk with two chairs in front of it. The rest of the room was lit with an orange hue from the flames flickering in the fireplace, shadows dancing across the available surfaces.

Sitting behind the desk, in a tall-backed chair, was the Dark Lord, only half his face illuminated by the flames. He looked just as Harry had described; hairless, snakelike, with slits for nostrils and gleaming red eyes whose pupils were vertical. He was so pale that he seemed to emit a pearly glow.

Rose was certain that he was only in Malfoy Manor in order to meet with her; she highly doubted he’d invite her into his home. The state of Lucius Malfoy only cemented this assumption, the man hadn’t looked quite as peaky as he did now when she was him at school, no doubt his tension had risen with the Dark Lord's presence in his home, around his family.

She absently wondered if Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were even home right now or if the man sent his wife and son out for a few hours.

“Rose Potter,” came a serpentine hiss.

Rose had stopped about halfway into the room, the fireplace now directly to her right, and waited for the man to say anything else; she wasn’t here to antagonize him after all. A hand stretched outward, long pale fingers splayed open in a gesture towards one of the seats in front of the desk. She didn’t hesitate to act, moving forward to take a seat, leaning back comfortably as the man watched her with careful eyes.

A slight hiss had Rose glancing to her right and she spied the slithering form of the Dark Lord’s snake— Nagini, she believed its name was— the very same one that attacked Mr. Weasley.

“I’ll admit,” the Dark Lord spoke slowly. “I was surprised when Lucius first brought me your letter.”

She lifted a brow in response. Rose put a lot of thought into that first letter, worded it carefully enough not to sound like she was trying to pull something, but still strong enough that he’d hear her out without dismissing it entirely. She had asked for a meeting, one over the winter break, and said that if he agreed to sign the short but detailed contract she attached to her letter as well as a reply with a time and place.

The contract essentially said that when they met, he couldn’t attempt to kill, hurt, or trap her in any way, shape, or form; nor anyone else she may bring with her during their meeting.

His reply had been sent back through Marcus, Lucius Malfoy delivering it to her friend directly and Marcus wrote to her retelling exactly what was said.

Which brought her here, sitting in front of the same man who killed her parents, who tried to kill her and her brother. That wasn’t why she wanted to meet though, she had no delusions of revenge or justice— no . She wanted one thing and one thing only, to be kept out of this war along with a few select people.

The Dark Lord watched her carefully, his hands resting on the arms of his chair as he cocked his head to the side. “From what little I’ve heard; you aren’t one for speaking with anyone.”

Rose smiled faintly. “I do when it’s called for.”

“And this meeting is called for?”

She pursed her lips, nodding once.

“Who knows you’re here?” He asked in a cold voice. “Dumbledore? Is this his attempt at keeping peace ?” He spat the last word as if it were dirty, his hands clenching against his chair.

“The only person who knows I’m here is the one I brought with me; not even my brother knows.”

“Why are you here then?”

Rose clenched her jaw, sitting forward. “I have no desire to be involved in this war; nor do I intend to let my brother be involved either. The only problem is Dumbledore is all but determined to have us fight and considering your past and present predilections, I don’t see you leaving us alone anytime soon either. However, of my choices, you are the more reasonable of the two sides of this war.”

She saw his eyes narrow, now sitting forward in his seat as well. “I’m the more reasonable one,” he repeated darkly.

“A man who is certain he is in the right can hardly be swayed from his views; especially one who’s as revered as Dumbledore,” Rose replied. “His so-called ‘greater good’ takes precedence; just look at me and my brother.”

“And what makes me so different?” He asked, amusement now curling in his voice. There was movement on the back of his chair and Rose could see his snake coiling around the edge of it, slowly climbing to the top, tongue flicking out every so often.

“Our second year, me and my brother came across a rather curious item; an old diary.”

The air seemed to still at her words and she could see his spine stiffen as his eyes narrowed. “You and your brother destroyed my diary.” He spat, his voice reaching a hissing sound once again in his anger.

She lifted a brow. “Harry thinks so, as does Dumbledore, but the thing we destroyed was a copy; I still have the actual one. Seemed like a waste to let something so clearly valuable go to ruin.”

The Dark Lords wand was on her in an instance, the paleness of it matching that of his hand. His aim was steady, even with his obvious fury.

“You will return it to me now.”

Rose smiled, well at least he was listening more seriously now. “On a few conditions first, of course.”

For a second, she thought he’d stand, or even cast a spell. “What is stopping me from torturing you until you give it to me?” He asked coldly.

“Well, for one, the contract you signed. It does have some rather dire side effects.” She gave an offhanded shrug, looking very unconcerned at his threat. “For another, I wouldn’t give it up and if anything were to happen to me, I instructed my family elf to take the diary— as well as a rather lovely golden locket I found— straight to Dumbledore.”

He stilled at the mention of the locket, though his wand remained aimed in her direction. “Your family elf.”

Rose nodded. “Kreacher,” she helpfully supplied. “The Black family elf.”

The Dark Lord’s fingers clenched around his wand when she said this, and she was certain he now fully believed her, had maybe been hoping she was bluffing but the mention of another Horcrux, one he likely never told another soul about, was all the more damning.

She could practically see him weighing his options; giving in, or fighting in some way. The fighting wouldn’t work; Rose made sure the contract was ironclad and she knew he knew that. It’s just that he wasn’t one for giving in either, but what choice did he have.

“What exactly do you want here?”

“It’s simple,” Rose told him. “You and all of your followers—marked and unmarked— leave me and my brother be. As well as… forty people of our choosing.”

He finally lowered his wand, keeping it in hand but leaning forward against the desk. “You expect me and my followers to do nothing as you run around halting our plans?”

Rose shook her head. “I expect you to keep us out of it. We won’t get in your way; you don’t involve us in anything.”

The silence that followed was only broken by the crackling of the fire and the nearly silent slithering of Nagini, who slowly moved off the back of the chair, making its way around the room. The Dark Lord sat back in his chair once more, tapping his fingers against his chair.

“I will allow you three people and the agreed upon armistice means me and my followers will not launch any form of attack on any party while you and your chosen ones are not to interfere with my plans at all.”

Rose clenched her jaw. “Thirty people, and we will not purposely interfere or involve ourselves in the war and you and your followers cannot antagonize or unwillingly mark any of them.”

“Five people,” he countered firmly.

“Twenty-five.”

“Ten.”

“Twenty.”

“Thirteen.”

“Fifteen.”

He narrowed his eyes and Rose met his stare evenly, her gaze trailing across his serpentine face carefully.

“Fifteen,” he agreed evenly.

“Not including me or my brother,” she added at once, getting a head tilt in response.

“If any of your chosen people make a stand against me then the deal is off for them, whomever they may be, and I will be free to act as I see fit,” he told her quietly. “That means if any remain in the Order for another… month after our agreement is officially complete, they are no longer a part of our… ceasefire.”

Rose swallowed, nodding slowly. It was something on her mind, she figured he’d have a personal vendetta against those in the Order, the ones directly following Dumbledore. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to convince them to leave— or not join to begin with— but she’d try. If it didn’t work… Well, whatever happened next would be on them. It would be off her and her brother’s shoulders; they tried.

He eyed her with a considering look, the gleam of madness still lingering in his expression though it seemed to be tempered briefly by whatever it was he was thinking on.

“You do realize that Dumbledore is relying on your brother and you to defeat me. That by creating this armistice, you will be essentially damning the magical community to my wrath.” He spoke evenly, watching her avidly as he waited for her response.

Rose lifted her chin. “My brother and I have a mere four and half years of magical training, if Britain, or whomever it is you wish to defeat, can’t handle themselves without us, then perhaps they’ve earned the right to be overthrown.”

The Dark Lord smiled. “Not what I expected from Dumbledore’s Prophesied saviours.”

She resisted the urge to scoff at the thought of being Dumbledore’s anything. “There’s one more condition.”

He lifted his non-existent brows in question, seemingly pleased with the way this conversation was going, his wand now tucked away and his hands moving to rest under his chin.

“I know what they are— the diary and the locket—” she said firstly, getting no response to that. “My condition for returning them, alongside the… truce and my list of people, is that you have to… reabsorb the diary.” His eyes narrowed and she went on before he could offer any protest or refusal. “You will still have the locket, as well as the others I’m sure you made,” she reminded him firmly.

“Why get me to reabsorb any at all?” He asked lowly, a dark curiosity in his voice.

Rose’s brow furrowed for a second. “I wish to test a theory,” she said at last. “The diary was the first you made, therefore the biggest piece. From what I’ve heard; your previous ideals, the ones you had in your youth, were… reasonable, understandable, but they started losing their validity as time went on.”

He smiled coldly. “You think this will save me?” He asked in a mocking tone.

Rose resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “No,” she replied. “I simply wish to see if it will return any form of cognitive thinking within you.”

His face shifted into a glare in an instance, hands dropping as the familiar look of hatred splashed across his face in an instance, and it made Rose want to smile in amusement.

“If I refuse?”

“Then the deals off,” Rose said resolutely.

He didn’t look amused now, his expression tight as he stared at her, no doubt trying to weigh her resolve in this. He studied her face for a long time, not saying a word while Rose did the same. “So, I lose one of my anchors to my immorality,” he said at last, his words carefully void of any infliction. “That hardly seems like a fair trade.”

She lifted a brow. “I’m certain you have a fair share of them already; seven, I’d imagine, it being the most powerfully magical number.”

“I never did finish my goal,” he countered swiftly. “I only succeeded in creating six, this agreement will leave me with only five— hardly an appealing deal.”

Rose pursed her lips, quickly weighing the pros and cons of what she had most recently realized and whether to even bring it to the table. “With the reabsorption of the diary you will be left with seven pieces,” she told him quietly.

The Dark Lord’s eyes narrowed. “I may have been left a vaporing mist for nearly a decade, but I do know how many soul pieces I created,” he retorted darkly.

“You created two by mistake,” she said carefully.

“There is no mistake with this kind of magic.”

Rose shrugged offhandedly, as if this was old and boring news. “Your soul was already fractured beyond that of a normal one, obviously whatever happened that Hallows Eve night splintered it further.”

He glared at her in question, obviously not pleased with being in the dark of what Rose was saying. “What?” he finally asked in a hiss.

“You created two more,” Rose said surely. “I hadn’t known at first, but after looking into it further, I realised— My brother and I having dreams of what you were doing, our ability to speak Parseltongue, Dumbledore’s vague wording of you unwittingly transferring powers to us...”

She didn’t have to wait long for him to piece together what she was saying, his eyes darting down to her scar at once. Rose wasn’t surprised, nor did she show any reaction, when the Dark Lord lifted his wand swiftly, shooting a spell at her throat. It didn’t feel like much of anything, perhaps a strange humming along her skin, but she noticed straight away when a red, string-like, piece of magic began coiling towards the Dark Lord’s wand.

He lowered his wand slowly, the magic dissipating at once, and he stared at her in silence. “Dumbledore knows this,” he assumed slowly.

“He strongly suspects,” Rose said quietly. “Though I imagine he’s either hoping he’s wrong or is going to try and prove it any day now. Ever since your return and what happened with Mr. Weasley, he seemed certain that something would be happening with our scars.”

“But nothing has.”

Rose shook her head. “My brother and I began practicing Occlumency over the summer.” Not that Harry knew what that was. She knew her brother well enough to know that the fancy sounding name would have him second guessing himself, so she told him they would meditate; all the same in the end.

This information was one that weighed heavily on her since she pieced it together, she hadn’t even told Harry yet. Wasn’t sure how to. It was an ace up the sleeve though, where the Dark Lord was concerned; she was relying on him being reluctant to destroy one of his own Horcruxes— or two of them.

She was also relying on his refusal of letting anyone else harm them in any way either.

The Dark Lord, from what she’s learned, was dismissive and frivolous of all things, including his own followers. The only thing he seemed to hold in high regard was himself, and his snake— which, if Dumbledore’s questions were to go by, was likely another Horcrux. The pieces that she and Harry held in their scar were hopefully their shield, the thing that would keep the Dark Lord determined to not have them involved in the war. Why would he want pieces of his soul running around with people trying to kill them?

“I will agree to all of our terms,” the Dark Lord said at last. “I just want one more piece of information from you.”

Rose narrowed her eyes now. “What is it you want?”

“Are you aware of why I went after you and your brother that night?” He asked slowly, his face not relenting its heavy stare.

Ah, Rose thought. So that’s what he wanted.

“I’m aware.”

He tilted his head back, his fingers tapping softly against his chair as the madness began to ease from his expression in face of his desire for an answer. “Have you heard it?”

Rose waited a beat. “I have.”

“I want to know it,” he said instantly, his fingers twitching with his long-awaited desire to know within reach.

With a slow nod, Rose quietly relayed the Prophecy. "The ones with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the ones with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...."

Despite the fact that the man had wanted to know the full contents of this prophecy for around fifteen years, he didn’t look too enthused. His face was neutral as he gazed off to the side and Rose could almost see him considering each and every word said. After a while he nodded faintly, before looking back to her.

“Am I to assume you’ll want a detailed contract for us to sign before you hand over the diary?”

Rose nodded. “I’ll make one and send it over through a friend and depending on any alterations needing to be made, once it’s complete I’ll add the list of my chosen people, you’ll sign it and I’ll send you the diary.”

“And the locket?”

She tilted her head in concession. “I’ll send it as well.”

The Dark Lord smirked, a pleased expression now on his face. He looked as though he had already won the war that had yet to truly even start. When he leaned back in his chair, Rose’s eyes flickered over to the clock on the wall, its ticking obviously silenced in some way as it made no sound; her hour was almost up.

“We are in agreement then?” Rose clarified. She got a slow nod in response and without waiting for any more words, she stood, eyeing him for a moment, then turning to leave.

“Do you truly not feel any guilt for what may come?” The Dark Lord’s voice called after her. “You and your brother are the apparent bringers of peace for the majority of Britain, does it not weigh on your soul that you will not fight to help them again.”

Rose had paused when he spoke up, her eyes still trained on the door as she thought his words over. When she spoke, it was with a carefully measured voice, with an answer she had thought over numerous times since re-entering the magical world. “The magical community rejoiced in the peace my parents’ death brought them, telling their safe and coddled children stories of me and my brother while we lived a life where we had to fight for the basics every day. They didn’t care to assure our safety and happiness; why should I care about theirs?”

She never received a reply, though she did feel his dark stare burning into her back when she continued for the door. She meant what she said. Rose had a first-hand look at the lives the magical world had lived when their parents died, how they made it seem like it was done for them. It took her a long time to come to the conclusion that her father and mother didn’t die to restore peace, they died so her and her brother could live a longer life.

It was this very thought that kept guilt from stirring, that lifted any weight of responsibility for what may come off of her shoulders.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

Rose glanced over at Marcus as the two of them made their way back down the Malfoy family driveway. The boy was practically thrumming with nervous energy, scanning around them periodically as they made their exit. When she had left the room she met the Dark Lord in and returned to the still waiting forms of Marcus and Lucius Malfoy, the two had expressions that told her they were thinking they may not see her again.

The fact that Marcus was thinking that and still insisted on coming with her had Rose smiling as her eyes flickered to a nearby peacock on a winding stone path. 

“You know, I really do appreciate you,” Rose said suddenly, her eyes still lingering across the wide expanse of clean, shining snow, the setting sun making it glitter brightly here and there. She was never one for overly emotional talks, or talking in general, but after today she felt the need to let Marcus know. They both seamlessly slid into the friendship they had now, even though it started off rather bumpy and continued on with Rose only mildly tolerating the boy. “Thank you, for your help today.”

Marcus was already staring at her when she turned to look up at him, a soft expression on his usually brooding face.

“I’m always happy to help you,” he said honestly as the two looked back ahead as one, Marcus absently reaching into his robes and pulling out a pocket watch. “But for now, let’s get you back, your Portkey is going to go off any second and I don’t want to deal with a pissed off Lord.” 

Rose laughed. She imagined Sirius would hardly be pissed off— worried and scared more likely. Still, she reached out to grab Marcus’s arm as soon as they reached the same area they landed in almost an hour prior. With one last glance at the large hedges that hid Malfoy Manor from view, Rose and Marcus disappeared with a loud crack that went unheard in their absence.

Harry was currently outside with all four of the youngest Weasley children and Hermione, his cheeks were a rosy red and he had a bright grin on his face. He was in the middle of building a snow fort with Ron and Hermione, the twins doing the same with Ginny a few meters away. Every once in a while, his eyes would flicker over to the Apparation point Sirius had disappeared from just a few moments ago, waiting for his sister to return.

He had been surprised, and mildly suspicious, when Rose asked to go meet with Marcus while they came to see the Weasleys. Harry knew Rose and Marcus maintained a very close friendship even with their lack of in-person interactions, both content with the letters they wrote for the most part. Adding in the fact that Rose just saw him in October and that she never felt the need to go out of her way to visit him before; it left Harry wondering what it was his sister really had planned.

His curiosity was bubbling beneath his skin, and while he knew she likely wouldn’t explain things here, Harry had faith that she’d explain things when they got back home, and she had everything all figured out.

Rose never liked coming to him with a half-completed plan, always needing at least a semi-concrete one in place.

Sirius had kept his pocket watch in hand for the last near-hour, even while answering the Weasley twins’ exuberant questions of his past pranks. Harry understood his worry, though he himself didn’t feel it quite as strongly, comforted by the fact that Rose had a Portkey on her if worse came to worse.

Not that he thought it would.

Still, despite this, Harry was mildly relieved to see Sirius head off to retrieve his sister. 

“Where did Ro’ go?”

Harry turned to Hermione when she spoke, the girl frowning in the same direction Harry was looking, Ron glancing over curiously at her question.

“She went to go see Marcus,” Harry told them as he patted down some snow onto their admittedly lopsided fort. Hermione’s side was dipping drastically on Harry’s left while Ron’s was about twice the height of hers on his right.

“What for?”

Harry shrugged at the girl. “Just wanted to see him,” he said in reply. “It’s not like they really get to see much of each other since he graduated.”

Hermione nodded in understanding to that, letting the topic drop as she turned back to her side of their slouching fort. She didn’t seem particularly worried about it, though she did half-heartedly pile more snow on top of it.

“Harry, dear,” Mrs. Weasley’s voice suddenly called and the three turned to see her standing in the doorway, an apron still wrapped around her, a drying towel in hand. “Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape would like a word.” Though she said this in the same kind voice she almost always spoke in, there was a tenseness in her eyes that Harry couldn’t help but notice, as though she was reluctant to actually call him in.

Ron and Hermione turned to Harry at once while Harry frowned, his eyes darting to the spot Sirius had yet to return to. 

“You haven’t done anything, have you?”

“No!” Harry said indignantly, absently hoping this had to do with his Potion’s mark rather than anything else. He slowly pushed himself to a stand, his mind whirring as he tried to think of what to do. Harry didn’t feel like he could outright refuse to see them but at the same time he knew Sirius wouldn’t want him alone with Dumbledore, especially considering recent events.

He just couldn’t figure out why Snape would be here too.

Harry saw Ron move to stand nearby the Apparation point and instantly knew his friend was planning to tell Sirius about this the second he showed up. He felt a surge of gratefulness rush through him at the small act and it was this , as well as the comforting pat Mrs. Weasley gave to his back as he walked back into the Burrow, that had his shoulders releasing some of the tension in them.

Mr. Weasley was back on the chair he was in when they first arrived, though he appeared to be asleep, his head resting back, and his eyes shut. Harry glanced over at Mrs. Weasley as she headed back into the kitchen, the woman wiping at the already clean counter.

Standing in front of the Weasley fireplace was Dumbledore and Snape, both looking the same as ever. Dumbledore was wearing brightly coloured robes, these ones Christmas themed, with dancing holly across its surface. Snape was dressed in his same black robes, his sour face framed by curtains of greasy black hair. Harry had seen surprisingly little of the former this year; not that he saw him frequently any other year, but considering what happened last year, his reaction to it, and Sirius’s warning last summer, Harry had expected the man to try and see him and Rose more.

“Sit down, Potter.”

Snape spoke in his usual cold way, Dumbledore standing idly beside him staring at nothing in particular around the room. Harry resisted the urge to question what they wanted, faintly wondering why he should even listen; it’s not like they were in school.

“What’s going on here?”

Glancing behind him, Harry was relieved to see Sirius standing in the doorway, Rose at his side while Ron peaked in behind them. The latter of which was quick to duck out of sight when he saw Snape shoot a glare in his direction. Sirius stormed forward, a dark expression on his face, and pulled Harry gently, but quickly, behind him, staring at the two men who had him called in. Harry scanned his sister for any sort of injury or sense of negative feelings, but she shot him a small smile, then grabbed his hand and lifted a brow in question.

Harry could only offer a shrug in response; he had no idea what was going on.

“I am here on Dumbledore’s orders,” Snape said waspishly, an ugly expression on his face at the sight of Sirius. 

Their godfather didn’t spare the man a glance as he glared at Dumbledore. “I couldn’t give a rat's ass if you were here on the Queen's orders; what the hell do you think you’re doing trying to talk to my kid without me here?”

Harry resisted the urge to smile at Sirius’ casual reference to him as his kid, smothering the desire by squeezing Rose’s hand. 

Snape’s lip curled. “It is the headmaster's wish that both twins’ study Occlumency this term.” He said slowly, a sneer on his face while his words were spoken like he was having teeth pulled.

“Study what?” Harry said blankly, looking to Rose for answers.

“Occlumency, Potter. The magical defence of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one.”

Mind— what? Protecting their minds? Is that what Rose had them do this summ—

“That is not happening,” Sirius said coldly, still waiting for Dumbledore to look their way, determined as the man seemed to not to do that. It was only at Sirius’s refusal that he finally glanced in their direction, his expression worried but firm.

“Sirius, we must take action to protect both Harry and Rose,” Dumbledore said quietly.

Sirius scoffed. “Protection from what? Your imaginary problem?”

“The Dark Lord is beyond skilled at Legilimency,” Snape spat out. “These two couldn’t hope to protect their minds as they are now.”

Harry leaned closer to Rose and whispered. “What’s Legilimency?” She reached out and tapped his forehead, wiggling her fingers faintly. “… Mind reading.” Harry said slowly, a look of disbelief on his face; you’d think someone would’ve mentioned mind reading before now.

“Whether Voldemort is skilled at it or not does not matter,” Sirius retorted sharply in turn. “Harry and Rosie aren’t getting anywhere near him, nor are you—” he finally looked at Snape, shooting the man a fierce glare "—getting anywhere near their minds!”

“Sirius—” Dumbledore cut in before Snape could snap anything in return. 

Sirius shook his head. “No. What did I tell you this summer, Albus? The twins are not getting involved in this war and you are not to get involved in their lives. I mean it. If I get one word that he had his greasy fingers anywhere near their minds— and they’ll know— I will press charges. I will make sure that he gets the Azkaban sentence he should’ve gotten at the end of the First War!”

The sound of something breaking followed Sirius' grand declaration, but none of the three adults looked to see what it was. Harry and Rose did though, both glancing over at where Mrs. Weasley was waving her wand, the remnants of a broken mug being slowly pieced back together.

“How exactly are you going to ensure that, Black?” Snape spat out, his wand clenched in his hand while Sirius looked between him and Dumbledore.

Sirius laughed harshly. “Don’t be asinine,” he said condescendingly, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard. “Legilimency is an illegal act of magic and for a staff member to use it on his students—” He gave a mocking scoff. “Not even Dumbledore’s reputation would excuse that— least of all for one with a past like yours.”

Snape lifted his wand in an instant, aiming it directly at Sirius while Rose squeezed Harry’s hand to keep him from moving between them. 

“Severus.” 

The man didn’t move for a few moments, keeping his aim on Sirius though the man in question didn’t even reach for his own, clearly unconcerned with Snape’s silent threat. In a clear dismissal, Sirius looked back to Dumbledore while Snape clenched his stained fingertips on his wand before stiffly lowering it, his dark gaze not leaving Sirius’s face.

Dumbledore stared at Sirius; his expression impassive as he tried to weigh how serious the man was about this. “Sirius—”

Sirius lifted a hand with another shake of his head. “I mean it, Albus. Amelia told me she is available should anything come up and considering how some of the past staff members treated the twins, I’m sure she would not be too bothered to investigate this; should it progress.”

No one said anything after Sirius spoke, those who thought Sirius would roll over to this slowly grasping that he would not comply. Mrs. Weasley silently moved across to the living room, sliding around the edge of the area they were standing in as she crossed to her husband, idly checking him over. Harry and Rose didn’t offer a word, trusting Sirius to put this matter to rest just like he had with so many other issues Dumbledore, and others, tried to involve them in. Rose’s gaze absently flickered toward the window, and she felt her lips twitch as she noticed a small, almost unnoticeable, trio of ears along the sill.

At least they wouldn’t have to repeat this conversation to the others now.

“I am worried about the twins’ scars, how they will be affected once the Dark Lord grows stronger.” Dumbledore quietly informed their godfather; his hands clasped in front of him. “Occlumency is free for people to practice, the Ministry has made no laws against it. All I am suggesting is having Harry and Rose taught the skill.”

Sirius didn’t say anything, already feeling exhausted with having to deal with Dumbledore's insistent persistence on the subject. He didn’t want Snape near the twins’ minds, bottom line. He didn’t fully believe the man just changed sides, couldn’t after the way he let his relationship with Lily implode and the way he’d treat every other Muggleborn when they were in school. 

Lily had spent countless nights talking to him about how she tried to change Snape’s ways, how she tried to get him on a different path than the one she knew he was on. It was one of the few things the two shared that they didn’t involve James in; Lily talking about Snape while Sirius would talk about his brother.

He could imagine Dumbledore suggesting someone else, finding another person he trusted that Sirius would be okay with. It still made him wary though, even if it was someone else. He didn’t trust Dumbledore’s intentions, couldn’t believe this was simply about protecting Harry and Rose’s minds.

A hand tugging the back of his right sleeve broke Sirius out of his pensive thoughts, and he glanced back at Rose. Leaning down only slightly, he knew she must’ve had something to tell him, he listened as she whispered in his ear.

“Harry and I already know Occlumency,” she said to his surprise. “I found a book on it in the library at the beginning of summer and we taught ourselves. Our scars had been hurting before we learnt it but they don’t anymore.”

Sirius stared at Rose when she finished speaking, feeling a mixture of shock and fondness at her words. Of course she would find a way to protect her and Harry and knowing the two, they would have a decent if not great control over the ability. He glanced over at Harry who smiled encouragingly, and Sirius grinned at the two of them.

He turned back around to where Dumbledore and Snape were watching them avidly, the latter of which had a sneer still plastered on his face. Clasping his hands together firmly, Sirius gave a shrug. “Well, problem solved gentlemen,” he told them with barely disguised glee. “Harry and Rosie have already studied Occlumency and have a strong control over it.” 

They never said the last bit but Sirius knew Rose would make sure they would.

Dumbledore frowned. “Perhaps Severus can ensure—”

“You said you wanted them to at least learn it,” Sirius retorted, his amusement draining at Dumbledore’s insistence on Snape looking into the twins’ minds. “They’ve learnt it; end of discussion. You shouldn’t need your little lapdog to go tearing through their minds to feel okay with it— honestly, it doesn't matter if you are okay with it or not.”

Sirius didn’t spare Snape a glance as the man redoubled his glare— seemingly trying to kill him with just a stare— and looked over at Mrs. Weasley with a rather done expression but forced a smile that felt a lot more like a grimace onto his face. 

“Molly, thank you for dinner, it was delicious, but I think it’s time for the three of us to head home.”

Mrs. Weasley glanced between Sirius and Dumbledore even as she gave him a soft nod. “Of course,” she said quietly. “Thank you for coming. Harry, Rose, it was good to see you, dears.”

Harry and Rose both shot the woman a smile, while Sirius ushered them towards the door, clearly content to ignore Dumbledore and Snape all together. While they arrived at the Burrow through the Floo, it was obvious that they would leave via Apparition. 

A smart move considering the two men would likely listen for the location of their home. 

As the three of them exited the Burrow, Sirius releasing a heavy sigh as they did so, Harry and Rose both glanced over at where the others were still standing by their self-made forts; the twins stuffing their listening devices back into their pockets while Ron, Hermione and Ginny watched them go with concerned expressions. Harry offered them a reassuring smile, he understood that what they likely overheard had sounded worrying, but he was confident that it would be fine. After all, the thing Dumbledore was worrying about was their scars, and thanks to Rose, they no longer had any issues with them.

Either way, both Harry and Rose grabbed hold of their godfather when prompted and spared one last glance at the Burrow before they disappeared from sight with a loud crack.

Upon returning back home the three occupants had been pretty worn out from the day's events— each for entirely different reasons. So, Sirius told the twins he was going to turn in, running a hand softly over their heads as he said goodnight.

Harry and Rose had been quick to fall asleep, both silently agreeing to discuss everything that happened that day tomorrow when they felt more rested. Which brought them to where they were now.

“You blackmailed Voldemort?”

Rose made a face. “Not necessarily blackmailed, I used some information I managed to obtain in order to secure a spot out of this war for us, as well as fifteen other people.”

The two were sitting in Rose’s room, cross-legged on the bed facing each other. Off to the side Jörmy was coiled up on his heated pillow on the floor and the rest of Rose’s room was neat and tidy; a far cry from Harry’s, which had random items from his school trunk lying about.

“Which fifteen people?” Harry asked slowly.

“That’s up for us to decide,” Rose told him. She lifted a hand and silently summoned some parchment, a quill, and an inkpot. Laying it out smoothly between them, Rose swiftly dipped the quill into the ink and at the top of the page wrote; Sirius Black.

Harry nodded slowly, watching as Rose continued to add names. Hermione Granger. Ron Weasley. Marcus Flint. Adrian Pucey. Graham Montague.

“They’re why you added that he couldn’t give the Mark to anyone unwillingly, right?” 

Rose’s eyes flickered up to her brother as she finished off writing Graham’s name down. She gave a silent nod; there was a point in time where she couldn’t have cared less if the boys joined the Dark Lord, willingly or not, but at the end of last year they made the risky decision to stand by her, even knowing who had returned. She would do what she could to repay that loyalty without forcing their hand in a certain direction; she stipulated that the Dark Lord couldn’t mark anyone unwillingly. If any of them wanted to join the Death Eater ranks Rose wouldn’t stand in their way, but she wanted to ensure that it was their choice.

“Add all the Weasleys,” Harry said after a moment.

Rose wrote down each of the Weasley family member names without hesitation, starting with the twins, then Ginny, their three oldest brothers and their parents. She stared down at the list with Harry, only one spot left empty. She paused for a beat, then wrote down a name she knew Sirius would want written down.

Remus Lupin.

Glancing up at Harry, she saw her brother give an approving nod as he reached over to take the list from her, rereading it even though he just watched her write it all. 

“So, they’re all safe? No one will hurt them?”

Rose frowned briefly. “They’re safe as long as they take no action in the upcoming war, if any of them do anything that could be seen as an act against the Dark Lord, he is within his rights to strike back.” Her eyes flickered down to the paper and back to her brother’s face. “Being a member of the Order of the Phoenix would constitute as an act against the Dark Lord.”

Harry’s face quickly mirrored his sisters. The Weasleys were all in the Order, or— well, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were, so was Bill. Fred and George have also been avid about joining, hardly being able to wait until they graduated.

Running his thumb along the list of names, Harry thought about the other ones as well. He knew Rose’s Slytherin friends would be okay, were already prepared to back his sister no matter what, and while he wanted to be sure their Gryffindor friends would do the same, already knew they have stood by them though so much, Harry wasn’t sure that their loyalty would extend to standing back in this war.

Maybe Ron and Ginny would— if they knew it would mean their entire family would be safe, but Hermione... Hermione had more causes than most kids their age, was always quick to point out any injustice and would speak up for what was ‘right and just’ whenever needed.

“How’re you gonna tell them?” Harry asked slowly, knowing there was no way his sister would just offer up this information freely without any security measures intact.

“I’m going to draw up a contract,” Rose told him evenly. “Somewhat like the one I will create with the Dark Lord and the one Hermione created for the D.A. It will stipulate that they cannot talk, hint, or alert anyone who hasn’t signed the contract about what I tell them.” She gently took the list out of Harry’s hands, rolling it up absentmindedly as she went over her plans. “It will obviously be more in depth, ironclad, I can’t exactly have Dumbledore knowing about it.”

Harry’s face twisted at the thought, if Dumbledore found out he’d... Well, Harry didn’t know what he’d do, but he wouldn’t be happy.

“When you gonna tell Sirius? When do you have to tell everyone?”

Rose shrugged. “I’m not too worried about Sirius, he made his views on the war very clear so far,” she told him, getting a quiet hum in return. “I think I’m going to try to extend this deal until our sixteenth birthday, I’ll have my part figured out by then and he follows through with his part soon after. Obviously, I can’t talk to everyone on the list while I’m at school, so I’ll need time.”

She was cautiously hopeful that the Dark Lord would have a sort of temporary hiatus against those he would see on her list, and she’d have time to make sure everyone understood their requirements for the deal. By the day of their sixteenth birthday Rose would have to make sure none of them were Order members or fighting against the Dark Lord, if they were then they’d be free game if need be.

There was a distant part of her that worried about giving him her list; she’d essentially be giving him a list of the people most important to her— but she tried not to dwell on this too much.

Harry suddenly looked up from his contemplative gaze at Rose’s comforter. “How you gonna keep in contact with him for all this?”

“Marcus,” Rose told him. “Well— Lucius Malfoy will deliver letters to Marcus, and he’ll deliver them to me.” 

Harry thought that seemed a bit complicated, but considering how... sensitive this all was, it was probably for the best. 

“Who you gonna tell first— after Sirius?”

Rose hummed in thought. “I think Lupin, I’m hoping Sirius will be present for that one as I don’t exactly know him too well.” Harry nodded silently, that made sense, Sirius and Remus were best friends after all. “I’ll get Adrian and Graham to sign it when I get back to school, more for the sake of having a signed agreement from everyone than anything else, Marcus can sign it whenever I see him in person next. As for the rest— I think I’ll talk to Fred and George first.”

Harry frowned. “Why them?”

“Considering recent events,” Rose said slowly, glancing over at the door to her room as she thought back to the twins' reactions since Mr. Weasley was hurt. “I think they would be the most open to hearing this. The twins, first and foremost, simply want to make people laugh.”

That was true, Harry thought. Even their plans for after they graduated were to open a joke shop, they spent every spare second they had creating items for it too.

“You gonna try tell Remus before we go back?”

Rose nodded once, pursing her lips as she began to think things over. 

The beginning of January had rolled in far quicker than expected and Harry and Rose were gone back to Hogwarts in no time at all. The house was a lot quieter without them, though Sirius expected as much, but it wasn’t too lonely. 

Remus had been coming by more often, the man carrying a rather conflicted expression with him every time he arrived. Sirius didn’t exactly blame him, not this time at least, as Rose’s conversation with him just a day before she headed back to school was still lingering on his mind.

Sirius had been shocked but thrilled when Rose told him what she had managed to secure them; a bit furious too as he realised where she went with Marcus the day they went to the Weasleys. Still, she pulled it off, she got Voldemort— a crazed, murderous, irrational Dark Lord— to agree to leave them be, so long as they left him be. 

He wasn’t entirely sure, but Sirius often wondered if his time in Azkaban was responsible for his general lack of caring for the magical world this time around or if it was being left to hang that did it. He didn’t let the thoughts weigh too heavily on him though, as far as he was concerned, he gave enough to these people and got nothing but over a decade of his life stolen from him in return.

Harry and Rose. They were what was important.

Remus wasn’t like him though; he was always a more morally driven person. Plus, he was almost obsessively loyal to Dumbledore, largely due to his gratefulness for the man allowing him to attend Hogwarts as a teenager. The only issue; Remus wanted to cling to the memory of what once was and was often weighed down by his lingering guilt for not visiting or believing in Sirius’s innocence. 

He never said as much but Sirius was practically a pro at reading Remus, even when he offered no words. 

Sirius was relieved when he agreed to stand down, his signature already dried next to Sirius’s on the contract, and was glad that his friend, the last of his forged family from his teen years, would be safe. He held back from asking when Remus would leave the Order, he knew the man was trying to come up with something to tell Dumbledore and would need to prepare counters for any arguments or guilt trips Dumbledore would no doubt try to pull. He had enough on his mind without Sirius hovering around him.

He had till Harry and Rose turned sixteen though, hopefully, and that was surely enough time.

That was something to think more about later on though. 

Now Sirius had just Apparated on the outskirts of the Malfoy property with a tray of baked goods in hand and an odd feeling in the back of his mind. There was a long period of time where this would be the last place you’d see him at but Sirius thought a lot had changed. The day after Yule, Sirius had sent Narcissa a thank-you card for the gift she sent, and the woman had been quick to send an open invitation to visit Malfoy Manor when the holidays were over. 

By the time he reached the staircase that ascended to the front door, Narcissa was already waiting for him, a pleased smile on her face and her dark robes in pristine condition.  

Sirius never did get along with a lot of his family, didn’t agree with the vast majority of their views entirely, but that didn’t mean he hated them all. Narcissa and Andy were both people he enjoyed spending time with when he was young; despite the two girls being older than him, four and five years older respectively, they were always good conversationalists. 

He knew Narcissa loved her older sisters dearly, and he knew she had been heartbroken when Andy was disowned, and no doubt still missed Bella immensely despite the terrible things the woman had done.

She was a family woman at heart, always had been, loving fiercely in a way most assumed a Slytherin never would. Sirius was aware that Narcissa’s marriage to Lucius Malfoy had not been one arranged— well it was, by their grandfather, but Narcissa had already been deeply in love with Malfoy and he with her by the time it was made official by the family Lords.

Sirius’ mother and Narcissa’s father were by far some of the worst of the bunch. The latter determined to marry all his daughters off to important families regardless of what they wanted while the former convinced her grandfather to marry her off to Sirius' father; her own cousin, not caring what the man himself thought on the matter.

That wasn’t to say there weren’t some terrible ones mixed in with the lot, because there were, it was just that those two were more than willing to screw over their own blood in order to get what they wanted, whereas the rest simply held a heavy distaste, and at times an outright hatred, for people other than themselves— Muggles and Muggleborns most of all.

Bella was just as bad as the two mind you, her opinions on Muggleborns and Halfbloods matching the rest of the family, but she still maintained loyalty to the family name, holding it in high esteem even after she was married and became a Lestrange. She was powerful too, skilled with magic in a way that was beyond impressive and was one of the most cunning people Sirius had met.

That was in their youth though. It was no secret that the Black Madness had hit Bella hard, turned her into a warped version of herself that lost any rational reasoning and dulled her keen mind into nothing but a constant ‘attack first’ thought process– one that Azkaban has no doubt fueled over the years. Sirius often wondered if it was a blessing or a curse that it happened, had been sure that if their family curse hadn’t taken over her mind then Bella would have been an even deadlier threat in the First War— Merlin knew she was already ruthless without a sense of forethought, if she had maintained her cunning and sly ways then she would have been someone no one would see coming. Someone no one could stop.

She wasn’t the Dark Lord’s favourite for nothing.

When they were kids Andy and Narcissa had been able to keep her reigned in for the most part, the three sisters as close as could be. Bella used to have her moments where she’d drift, where she seemed almost childlike and innocent if you didn’t know her well enough to know that a danger was bubbling underneath the surface. It was sporadic, but as they grew older, she began to linger in those moments more and more until eventually it was flipped; she’d have her normal moments here and there but otherwise would remain in her madness.

Cygnus hadn’t cared enough to really help her, and there was help available, things the Black family had learnt to do when one of their own began to slip into the curse. But the man didn’t care about doing any of it, he saw what Bella was like in those moments, fierce and powerful, and wanted to encourage it regardless of what it did to her mind.

“Sirius,” Narcissa greeted warmly, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek and inviting him in. 

Sirius smiled. “It’s great to see you, Cissa,” he said honestly. He lifted the tray in his hands a bit and said, “I brought you some baked goods. Be careful with this one cake, it's got some alcohol in it.”

She reached out to gracefully take the tray from him, smiling as she eyed the various baked goods arranged precisely on the blue, snowflake covered tray. “You’ve been partaking in Yule traditions,” she commented as she observed the holly attached to the colourful string tied to the top of the tray’s clear lid. 

He shrugged. “Rosie’s a bit obsessed with celebrating all the traditions,” he offered, following Narcissa’s silent prompt to move further into the manor. Sirius eyed the portraits that watched on with careful eyes, some flickering to his hand where his Lordship ring sat. “We did absolutely everything involved with Yule, from decorating the tree, to the Yule Log and a bonfire.”

Narcissa led him into what Sirius vaguely remembered to be the informal parlour, the room done up with pale blue tones with dark grey accents. She placed the tray down on the oval coffee table in the middle of the seating area before gesturing for him to take a seat, following suit once Sirius did so. The action had Sirius wanting to smile, Narcissa was always one for properness when it came to meeting with people, genuinely seemed to enjoy doing it.

“She’s already given me instructions on what to do with the house for Imbolc,” Sirius added as he swiftly reached over to pour himself a cup of tea. “And I have no doubt she’ll have plans for Ostara when she and Harry come home for the spring break.” 

Narcissa smiled softly at that. “She sounds just as headstrong as her mother was.”

Sirius snorted. “Oh, she definitely is. Merlin, there are times when she scolds me for something and I swear it’s Lily staring me down.”

“How is living with the twins?”

“Good— great,” Sirius said straight away, a grin on his face as he glanced up at her. “Right from the moment they arrived at the start of summer it felt like a dream. I was a bit nervous at the beginning, especially after how they grew up with their relatives…”

Narcissa made a face at the mention of Harry and Rose’s relatives. To say a lot of people were upset with what happened to the twins would be an understatement, but Narcissa felt a strong bout of anger and hatred at those Muggles. 

She had always wanted a big family, wanted to give Draco siblings like she had growing up, but her and Lucius had struggled to have him. The entire pregnancy had been worrisome, Lucius going as far as to charm an old bell so that she would be able to call him anytime of the day. Actually giving birth had been hard on her, with the St. Mungo’s staff having to work especially hard just to keep her alive. It was with a heavy heart that the two made the decision to not try again, which was largely why they spoiled Draco as much as they did. He was their little miracle.

So the fact that these Muggles had been blessed with two magical children and instead abused them for their entire childhood was… There were no words.

“As long as you show them love and kindness, I’m sure they will be the happiest children around,” she said firmly, her eyes warm and honest.

Sirius smiled, nodding in agreement. His goal since getting the twins was to make sure that they were not only safe— which most people did try to do when it came to the twins— but happy too. So long had their safety been prioritized over their happiness, more and more people were content to let them suffer as long as it meant they were out of danger. 

He wasn’t willing to do that. Sirius knew personally that that was no way to live.

“Did you bake a lot?” 

Sirius laughed, shaken out of his dreary thoughts at once. “Yeah, we did. Kreacher made some but Harry and Rosie are no slouches when it comes to cooking and Harry was determined to try as many things as he could.” He reached over to lift the lid of the tray with one hand, snagging one of the brownies they had made together. “We made another tray for the Weasleys— well two, considering the size of the family— another for Remus, and I dropped one off to Andy before I came here.”

“Oh, I do miss Andromeda,” Narcissa sighed softly, her brows pulling together. “I’ve wanted to reach out so many times but… considering how things played out when our parents were alive… I’m not sure she would want to see me.”

Sirius made a quiet noise of understanding. There were times when he felt the same way about his brother, back when he was still alive, and Sirius was still a fresh runaway. His last day at Grimmauld Place with his parents was an explosive one, largely due to his mother’s temper. She was ready to force him to get the Dark Mark and Sirius knew running was his only escape, then and there. Needless to say, that there had been no time for goodbyes, no time to even grab his clothes, and Sirius hadn’t seen or talked to his brother again. 

They saw each other at school, but Sirius had been certain that Regulus would feel the same as their parents, that he’d resent Sirius for leaving and wouldn’t want to talk to him. So, he never approached his brother and after he graduated his chances of just happening to run into him had gone down to zero.

Narcissa tactfully changes the subject, well able to sense that both their moods would decline if they thought further on this. “How have the renovations been? Are they finished?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said at once, grabbing hold of the new topic with vigor. “I had it all finished before Harry and Rosie finished their fourth year; except for the attic, I didn’t bother with it.” He lifted one shoulder up as he drained the last of his tea from his cup. “I like how it all turned out, it hardly feels like the place I grew up in, which I’m happy about.”

“I’m glad,” Narcissa offered honestly. “I know how unhappy you were there in your youth; I’d hate to think you forced yourself into a house you didn’t feel at home in just to keep the children safe.”

With a fond smile Sirius assured her. “I rarely think of it as the same place, Kreacher is really the only reminder and even his presence is very different, Merlin knows the annoying bugger worships Rosie.”

“He was the same way with Regulus, no?”

Sirius hummed, tapping his fingers against the side of his cup. “Yeah, Reggie loved that elf too.”

“Is it hard being reminded of them?” Narcissa asked cautiously, a genuine concerned expression on her face. “I imagine living with James and Lily’s kids would bring a lot of memories.”

“No,” Sirius said hesitantly, a frown pulling at his mouth. “Harry and Rosie are largely their own people, and while they do remind me of them often, it’s more in a happy sense. Like Jamie and Lily are living on in some way.”

“That’s a lovely way to look at it.”

Harry remined Sirius of James, no doubt about it. Sirius saw so much of James in him, from being obsessed with flying, the Gryffindor tendencies and his looks as well. Sure, there were differences but every now and then Sirius would be struck with so much likeness between the two that it would take his breath away. 

As much as both twins reminded him of Lily at times, he never fully saw her in them like he did James. Perhaps because he hadn’t known her as long, hadn’t been as close as he had with James. Not to say they weren’t close, the woman was the sister he never had, but James knew so much more, knew things about Sirius’s past and his hopes for the future and Sirius knew just as much about James.

Rose— 

First and foremost, Rose made Sirius think of his brother. It almost stunned him at times how much she reminded him of Regulus. From her Sorting into Slytherin, her close bond with Kreacher, her obsession with writing pages after pages of information.

Regulus had been the same way, studying book after book in the family library. When they were kids, he’d tell Sirius all about what he learnt, a habit that continued right up until Sirius left for Hogwarts when he was eleven. He used to say that the pursuit of knowledge was one that would never leave him empty handed, there was always something for him to learn.

When he was feeling particularly nostalgic and sad, Sirius thought that the twins were like ghosts of the two people he loved and failed, come back to haunt him. Living proof that he could have done more to help them; to save them.

He didn’t let himself linger on these thoughts too long; knew from his time in Azkaban that feeding into them would only make things worse. 

“Sirius?”

Sirius was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Narcissa’s voice, glancing up to see her eyeing him with a faintly concerned expression. He grinned lightly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, mind saying that again?”

“I was just asking if you’d like more tea,” Narcissa told him softly, gesturing to his empty cup with an open hand. 

Before answering, Sirius dug out his watch, taking a quick glance at it and pulling a face when he saw how much time had passed. “Sorry, Cissa,” he said. “I have a meeting with some people about the family estate.” He placed the cup down and shot her a warm smile, beyond glad that he decided to come today. “Thank you for the tea, and the invite, it was long overdue.”

Narcissa laughed lightly and stood, motioning towards the doorway for Sirius to head over to first. “I agree, let’s not wait another decade to meet again, yes?”

He barked out a laugh at her uncharacteristic teasing as he stepped back into the main entrance way, feeling the lingering stares of the portraits around him. When he reached the door, he turned to pull her into a quick hug, muttering. “I promise to come again soon.”

Chapter Text

Being back at Hogwarts these days often left Harry and Rose with mixed feelings. 

They were always glad to be back at the place that they first considered home, their offered escape from the Dursleys, but now there was a tinge of reluctance that accompanied their return. They missed Sirius greatly while they were gone, missed Grimmauld Place and Kreacher, and for the first time in their lives they understood the feeling that the vast majority of students would have when coming to Hogwarts. No longer eager for summer to end or spending all their breaks at Hogwarts.

Harry was quick to get back into the swing of things when it came to the D.A. meetings, already going over their plans to teach the Patronus Charm with his sister and Hermione. 

Rose had her mind on other things, most importantly informing certain people of her deal with the Dark Lord.

Upon returning to Hogwarts Rose had been quick to meet up with Adrian and Graham both, unsurprisingly met with no fuss over signing the contract as both boys scrawled their names neatly beneath Sirius and Lupin’s before she explained what she had done over the break.

Both boys were just as shocked as Marcus had been that she pulled off her deal; neither of them knew what Rose’s initial letter to the Dark Lord contained and she hadn’t explained what she had planned to anyone beyond Marcus. 

They were impressed to say the least.

While Rose was confident in her ability to make an airtight contract, she still had both boys read it over carefully to make sure there were no loopholes available, should anyone go looking.

The contract was simple. Upon signing it, the signer agrees to not speak about anything, verbal or through any other means, that was spoken within the next hour after signing to anyone other than Rose, her brother, or anyone else that had signed the contract. If they even thought about doing so, they would begin to feel a tingle across their bodies and if they actually tried to speak about anything said their magic would halt the words and they would find themselves unable to speak or breathe. This magic would immediately stop as soon as the signer gave up on trying to tell anyone not on the list about what was spoken about.

Harry thought it was a bit much, but when Rose pointed out how disastrous it would be if anyone found out about their deal, he didn’t offer any other protests. 

Not that he was protesting all that much to begin with, simply pointing out the ruthlessness of the contract in general.

The Dark Lord had agreed to the temporary hiatus in attacks against anyone until their deal was sealed and finished, an easier thing to do as he no longer desired what lay within the Department of Mysteries, instead focusing his plans on freeing his most loyal from Azkaban.

He did make it explicitly clear that he was free to act as he pleased the day after the twins’ sixteenth birthday and if anyone on the list were in fact a part of Dumbledore’s little Order then he’d deal with them how he saw fit.

Rose would send her list of people to leave-be— the exact same list she and Harry wrote out the day she told him about the deal— to the Dark Lord soon, regardless of whether they agreed to the terms of the deal or not. She didn’t see her adding anyone else to the list as those were the only people she really had any care for— or at least enough care to offer protection over.

Along with the list she’d send the diary and locket, the former of which the Dark Lord would reabsorb on Ostara, the twenty-first of March, and their agreement would be somewhat finalized. He would officially no longer be Harry and Rose’s problem.

None of this would happen for another month though, when the next Hogsmeade trip would happen.

As of now they were only approaching the middle of January and Rose was getting prepared to talk to Fred and George. She was standing outside the Quidditch pitch, wrapped up in her Slytherin scarf with some wool mittens— a gift from Mrs. Weasley— on her hands. Harry was going to tell the twins that she wanted to speak with them and as Rose watched the Gryffindor Quidditch team tiredly shuffle out of the changing room after their admittedly long practice, she offered a wave as each one greeted her.

She rather liked the team as they always remained civil with her. There were quite a few Gryffindors who were a bit wary of her, but Harry’s team members always remained polite and happy when they interacted with her, never put off by her lack of responses when they spoke with her.

Rose interacted with them an unusual amount considering she didn’t like Quidditch, mainly because nine times out of ten she’d show up to Harry’s practices to watch and all of them would stop by where she’d sit and strike up the occasional conversation with her. That was until Wood— and now Angelina— would yell at them to get back to work.

It always amused her to see their intensity in the game, it was rather admirable.

She stood straighter when Harry and Ron came out, both looking just as exhausted as the others. Ron didn’t look too surprised to see her, he was very aware that Rose would come here often, but he was surprised at what Harry said next.

“They’re waiting for you,” Harry told his sister, jerking his thumb back towards the changing rooms.

Ron frowned. “You’re here for Fred and George? Why?”

Rose just shot the boy a smile, sliding past the two as she made her way to where they came from. One upside of being known as ‘silent’ was that it wasn’t seen as all that rude when she left people without an answer. 

She knew Harry would offer an excuse for her, likely something about potions or charms, as that was a great interest she shared with the Weasley twins.

It was rather late in the evening, supper long since over and curfew now approaching, so Rose knew they wouldn’t be interrupted. She wrinkled her nose when she entered and the faint smell hit her, though she was aware it was not nearly as bad as it could’ve been as the Hogwarts Elves kept this place clean.

Once the room was completely empty no doubt they’d be in here cleaning it and leaving the room freshly smelling once again.

The changing room had rows and rows of tall doorless compartments with two smaller spaces, one at the top and one at the bottom. Inside the middle near the top shelf were three hooks, one on each wall of the compartment, for students to hang their coats and clothing. The top shelf was for, she assumed, hats, scarves or mitts and the bottom shelf for boots or shoes.

The compartments were back-to-back in rows with room for two benches in between each one. This is where Fred and George were seated, changed back into their regular outfits, watching her scan the room with matching curiously amused expressions, each with their own bench.

She understood their curiosity, it wasn’t often that she specifically sought them out. More often than not they happened to run into one another and on the even rarer occasion they’d find her for some reason— usually seeking a second opinion regarding some spell work or potion work surrounding one of their inventions.

“What can we help you with, Rosie?”

Rose smiled when they spoke as one, grins on their faces. She wondered if it was amusing as it seemed to be to do that. Maybe in another life she and Harry would have been like this, a life where she wasn’t so reserved to speak.

Without offering a response Rose reached into her robes, pulling out the contract that was rolled up into a scroll. Moving forward with ease, she took a seat just out of reach on the same bench as Fred, diagonal from George, both of whom waited patiently for her to proceed. She handed the scroll to Fred, and he exchanged a look with his brother as he unrolled it, holding it up so they both could read it.

“A secrecy contract?” Fred said after a few moments, his eyes not leaving the page as he read the parameters of the contract. “A pretty airtight one at that.”

“What are you up to, Rosie?” George asked curiously. 

It was a fair question. While Rose was a Slytherin and far greyer with her magic than most would realise— not that either twin cared— she had never been one for secrecy contracts. This was the girl who was willing to expose the way her relatives treated her and Harry in the most famous newspaper in magical Britain. 

When it came to information, Rose was either upfront about it or never spoke a word on the subject— no in-between. 

The girl smiled faintly as they both glanced up at her after thoroughly reading the contract; twice . 

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies, right?”

They got the unspoken message; she wouldn’t explain anything until they signed.

Fred and George exchange a glance, already aware of what they were going to do but simply looking to one another out of habit. They trusted Rose— and Harry as well, obviously— the younger twins had been a welcome addition to the Weasley family, and they always made things interesting. It was the two of them who helped make Fred and George’s lifelong dream that much more obtainable, and both always made sure to address them by the right name.

An impressive feat as there were times when their own siblings and parents got confused.

Don’t ask them how they knew Rose knew who was who, it was always just a general feeling when she was speaking— or simply listening— to them. She always had the air of someone who knew who she was conversing with and Fred and George were always one for trusting their guts.

Maybe it was a twin thing. Perhaps the Patil twins would manage it as well…

Nah, probably not— likely just a Harry and Rose thing.

Without another would, Fred held out a hand in silent request and laid out the contract on the bench between him and Rose. He felt more than saw Rose place a quill, ink already gleaming on the end, into his waiting palm. In the nearly empty space below the tiny but legible writing, Fred scrawled his name to the right of Remus Lupin’s— his curiosity grew at seeing the man's name scrawled on this contract as well. Handing both quill and contract over to George, Fred glanced up at a serious looking Rose as his brother scrawled his name below Fred’s, right next to Graham Montague’s.

They weren’t surprised by the names on the thing so far, though the fact that she had Sirius sign it was— interesting. It told them that whatever she was up to was beyond important, knowing Harry and Rose, more than likely it would be life changing. Pucey and Montague weren’t a shocker to see on the thing, they knew the two were as close with Rose as she’d let them be.

They were surprised at the lack of Ron and Hermione’s names on it though, Fred and George both shooting each other a look of acknowledgement regarding it.

“They’re not guarding a weapon.”

The twins looked up as one when Rose spoke, confusion painted across their faces for a brief moment.

“The Order,” Rose clarified as she began to roll the scroll back up with careful fingers. “The thing they’re guarding in the Ministry is not a weapon; at least, not one that could be of any physical use.”

That was not what either twin expected. Upon first realising that Rose wanted them to sign a secrecy contract their minds instantly began stirring up a great number of ideas as to what it would be about and while the weapon did cross their minds, it never occurred to them that she would be telling them there wasn’t any.

“What is it then?” George asked slowly.

“In the Ministry of Magic there is an area called the Department of Mysteries,” Rose told them calmly, her eyes scanning their expressions intently. “One of the Departments is called the Hall of Prophecies.”

“In early 1980 there was a prophecy spoken. It foretold the birth of more than one child at the end of July having the powers to defeat the Dark Lord. It said that the Dark Lord would mark them as his equals and that either must die at the hand of the other.”

The twins stared at Rose in silent disbelief and— for what Rose was just now realising was only the second time they’ve done so since meeting them— they glanced down at the mark on her neck. It didn’t take a genius to put together who the Prophecy was about and the twins were far quicker than most gave them credit for.

“The Prophecy was partially overheard by one of the Dark Lord’s followers,” Rose went on, not deterred by their silence. “But what was heard was enough for the Dark Lord and he acted. Given how that turned out for him, Dumbledore shrewdly deducted that he’d want to hear the entirety of the Prophecy before acting again and as such, began to place guards around the Hall of Prophecies.”

The trio lapsed into silence; Rose patiently waiting for the twins to get their thoughts in order while the twins scrambled to do just that.

“Dumbledore fully believes in the Prophecy.”

Fred’s question was more of a statement than anything else. He already knew the answer; it answered a few questions that he and George had since their impromptu early winter break. 

Dumbledore’s continuous questioning of Harry and Rose; the Order members questioning Sirius about whether the twins had any dreams about what happened to their dads; Dumbledore showing up with Snape to try and get the sour man to teach the twins Occlumency.

He had to believe in it, and that meant the Order did as well— it’s what their dad was willing to die to protect. Clearly thinking along the same lines as him, George voiced what would’ve been George’s next question.

“Do our parents know it?”

Rose shook her head. She hadn’t known before talking with Lupin if the Order was aware of the Prophecy’s contents, but the man had helpfully informed her that Dumbledore never told anyone but her parents.

“They know there is a prophecy regarding my brother and I and the Dark Lord,” she relayed quietly. “But none of the Order were told the exact wording nor even a vague summary like I’ve given you.”

It was a somewhat chilling thought to think their father almost died to protect something even he didn’t know the details about. Fred and George were also confused as to why they were even bothering guarding it in the first place. From the sounds of it there wasn’t any particular valuable information in the prophecy— at least no ancient magical answer that would guarantee anyone a win. 

Sure it made sense that You-Know-Who would seek it out, never having heard it all and not knowing what was said, but Dumbledore knew. Dumbledore knew it didn’t have any use beyond apparently naming Harry and Rose the Dark Lord killers.

Perhaps to keep You-Know-Who focused on it rather than any other more dangerous plans.

“I’m not fighting in this war,” Rose said solemnly, bringing their attention back to her at once. “Nor am I letting my brother do so either, regardless of what Dumbledore believes.”

The twins eyed Rose with uncharacteristically serious expressions. Her statement wasn’t exactly surprising to them; it didn’t take a genius to see that Rose held no care for the drama and battles around her, far more concerned with studying magic in any way she could.

They could understand it to a degree. The twins themselves couldn’t imagine growing up to work at the Ministry dealing with politics and family lords when they could be creating all sorts of items with the magic they’ve learnt. 

Potions and charms compared to sparring and fighting; it was a no brainer really.

Harry, they could see fighting though, the boy already doing so frequently enough. But they knew why he wouldn’t join the war; if they could unwrap why Rose didn’t want to be involved then Harry— her twin and the person who knew her best— most assuredly would too. Add into the fact that Rose didn’t want to risk Harry getting injured or killed, it made sense that he’d follow his sister’s lead in stepping back.

No way either Fred or George would allow the other to fight alone or stand aside alone. They were twins after all, together since birth, they stuck by each other's sides no matter what.

So they understood Harry and Rose’s chosen position in this war, there was just one thing—

“Dumbledore fully believes in the Prophecy.” Fred said once again.

Rose nodded silently.

“He’s expecting you and Harry to do You-Know-Who in,” George said flat out. “That’s his plan for winning.”

Again Rose nodded.

If Dumbledore’s plan was for Harry and Rose to kill the You-Know-Who and Harry and Rose’s plan was to not fight at all…

Life changing.

“Y’know we fully support what you and Harry choose to do, Rosie,” George said slowly, glancing at his brother who firmly nodded in agreement. “But You-Know-Who has already tried to kill you both more than once.”

“I doubt he’s going to just let you step down, especially if he believes in this prophecy as much as Dumbledore.” Fred finished, both of them staring Rose down with furrowed brows.

Rose pursed her lips with a nod, her fingers running along the scroll in her hands absently. “I’ve taken care of that, which is why I wanted to speak with you to begin with.”

What— 

“You mean everything you’ve said till now wasn’t why you had us sign the contract?” The two asked as one, sitting up straighter in their seats and their brows shooting upward. 

“No,” Rose confirmed. She held little regard to the Prophecy or its supposed meaning so, honestly, she wouldn’t particularly care about who knew its contents; it wouldn’t change her standing. Mind you, nothing would now.

“In our dealing with the Dark Lord in the past, I managed to secure some information about him that I was certain would be of high value to him.” Rose said slowly, trying to word things as carefully as she could. “As it turned out, I was right and over the winter break I used this information to gain an agreement from the Dark Lord to leave me and my brother be; so long as we do the same with him.”

Fred and George had mixed expressions on their faces, disbelief the most clear, and they shared a slow look before turning back to Rose. 

“You blackmailed You-Know-Who?”

Rose offered a small shrug at Fred’s question. “You can blackmail anyone with the right information.”

George shook his head. “So, You-Know-Who agreed to stop trying to kill you and Harry and the two of you agreed not to get involved in the war?” He reaffirmed, waiting for her nod of confirmation before he asked. “What does this have to do with the contract?”

“Did you just want to let us know?” Fred added on hesitantly, unsure of where Rose was going with all this. While what she managed was unbelievable, neither twin could see why she felt the need to tell them, other than the courtesy of being friends since the twins reentered the magical world.

“A part of my agreement– a written contract– with the Dark Lord was that he would leave me and my brother alone, along with fifteen people of our choosing.” Rose told them outright, choosing not to beat around the bush any longer. “I’ve already informed five of said people before this; Marcus has yet to sign but he also knows.”

Five people.

As one, the twins glanced down to the rolled up contract still held in Rose’s hand. There were four names already signed in the small open space at the bottom of the contract before they signed, Flint’s signature would be five. Seven with their own now.

“We’re two of your fifteen people,” George realised at once.

Rose smiled softly as she nodded. “Your entire family is on the list,” she told them quietly. “Percy included, despite his strained relationship with you at the moment.”

Their entire family, plus the five who have already signed/knew made fourteen, it didn’t take much thinking to understand that the last one would be Hermione; no doubt about it. 

“What does this mean?” Fred asked her.

Rose tilted her head. “It means that the Dark Lord, as well as all those who follow him— marked or unmarked— are forbidden to attack you or your family in any way, shape, or form. Forbidden to attack anyone on the list.” 

When their brows lifted in shock, Rose sat forward, needing to be clear and concise about what she said next. “This agreement is in full effect so long as those on our list do not do anything that constitutes as an act against the Dark Lord. They must stay out of the war entirely and if one of them goes against this then the Dark Lord is free to act as he sees fit.” Rose warned them both evenly. “Being a member of the Order of the Phoenix would constitute as an act against him.”

Their parents were in the Order. Bill was too. 

Fred and George weren’t sure what to say. They knew the immensity of what Rose had done for them, she essentially gave their family a guaranteed survival in the war everyone knew was coming. They’d never have to repeat what happened to their father— or, Merlin forbid, what happened to their uncles. 

Both twins knew how much their mother worried about what was coming. How she tried her best to make sure none of the kids got involved in the Order as though to shield them from the war for as long as she still could. 

They also knew that regardless of what they decided, Harry and Rose weren’t fighting. The two people who Dumbledore was relying on the most weren’t getting involved; something they’d bet all their recently acquired money on Dumbledore not being aware of yet.

“If we still get involved,” George murmured, “and something happens; you and Harry won’t be helping.”

It was another question that was more of a statement, but Rose still answered.

“No. We won’t.”

George glanced at his brother, who met his stare head on. They knew what they wanted to do, this was their ticket to spend the rest of their lives doing what they always dreamed of, their guarantee that they’d never have to worry about losing one another. 

Except—

It wasn’t just about them. They didn’t know what their family would do, and they couldn’t leave them to defend themselves. Neither twin would forgive themselves if something happened to their parents or siblings while they stood aside doing nothing.

“You don’t have to decide anything now,” Rose said reassuringly, easily reading the indecision on their faces. “You have until mine and Harry’s sixteenth birthday before this takes effect; until then the Dark Lord has agreed to a temporary hiatus on any violent attacks.” She resisted the urge to try and comfort the two the way she would Harry whenever her brother was stressed and tightened her hands around the contract. “I’ll obviously need to speak to the rest of your family first, and when I have I’ll let you know and you will all be free to discuss this with one another.”

That eased the tension that had been steadily rising in their shoulders. They forgot the contract had said they could talk about this to anyone who signed and Rose planned to tell the whole family. 

“Alright,” they said as one, nodding more to themselves than Rose. 

Rose stood up from the bench, straightening out her robes as she let out a sigh. Another one down, still more to go.

The twins watched her in silence as she tucked the contract into her pocket and tactfully made to leave; well able to understand that they’d want to discuss this alone. When she was near the door Fred spoke up.

“Regardless of what our family decides to do,” he called out, making Rose turn, one of her hands resting on the doorframe as she looked back at them.

“Thank you, for doing this, for trying to keep us safe,” George finished, trying to convey the earnesty in their words as much as possible. 

They were grateful, beyond even. Rose didn’t have to include them in her deal, doing so no doubt making her next few months a lot more complicated considering their family was known for being firmly on Dumbledore's side and their parents and Bill already members of the Order.

Rose grinned at the two, not an expression anyone saw from her that often. “Of course. The Weasleys will always be a favourite of ours,” she said on behalf of her and Harry, pushing the door open and calling over her shoulder as she went. “It helps that they have the second best set of twins around in their family too.”

“First!” Fred and George countered at once.

Their only response was the sound of Rose’s ringing laughter and the changing room door swinging shut with a quiet thunk.

The days quickly began to blur into one another and soon enough January had flown by and they were quickly approaching the middle of february. The weather was slowly but surely starting to warm up and their D.A. meetings were meeting semi-frequently; the Quidditch captains had started picking up more practices in light of the warmer weather but they managed to find time for everyone to attend.

Rose was surprised that the Slytherin recruits had stuck with their ‘club’ as long as they had. She half suspected that they’d drop it once Umbridge had been replaced by a more competent professor but perhaps the more advanced topics they were tackling made them reluctant to leave.

She thought Nott would have called it quits by now but the boy simply kept to himself when he could and when a partner was needed for any lessons Adrian or Graham would take turns pairing up with him.

Zabini and the Greengrass sisters kept to themselves for the most part, only offering the occasional comment here and there, but the rest of the houses had warmed up to the Slytherins’ presence; some a lot slower than others.

The Patronus Charm lessons were going about as well as they’d expected. It being an advanced spell that most adults couldn’t manage didn’t give them high hopes but the group was eager to try. They made sure to focus on the charm every other lesson, doing more achievable spells in between so that the others wouldn’t get discouraged.

They were doing great, to be fair, a few of them managing a silvery mist after a couple of weeks which was impressive.

Fred and George continued on with their days as they had before Rose talked to them, only the occasional glance they’d shoot Rose here and there— no doubt wondering if she told anyone else yet— gave away their otherwise lack of concern. She hadn’t yet. Rose was unsure how to broach the subject, or who to even talk to next. Harry wasn’t much help on the topic, her brother always prone to overthinking and having a surprisingly pessimistic view when he thought too much on things. 

Rose planned to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley last and she needed to wait till she wasn’t stuck at Hogwarts before she could speak with the three eldest Weasley children. That left Ron and Hermione as the only available options to speak to— which Rose was reluctant to do, as much as she wouldn’t admit it to Harry or herself.

She could talk to Ginny, she suddenly realized.

“Did Professor Snape or Dumbledore try to talk to you about the Occlumency thing again?”

Rose glanced over at Hermione from across the library table and found the girl staring at Harry; Ron looking up from his partially completed homework at the question.

Harry shook his head with a frown. “No, why would they?”

Hermione pursed her lips, fiddling with a quill in her hand. “It just seemed somewhat important considering they showed up at Ron’s over the holidays. Plus Dumbledore seemed especially worried that something would happen with your scars.”

Rose’s expression matched Harrys as her brows furrowed. She was a bit annoyed that Dumbledore had Hermione worrying about them considering there wasn’t anything happening to begin with.

“They already know Occlumency and their scars don’t bother them,” Ron pointed out easily enough, erasing something he just finished writing on his assignment. Hermione didn’t seem that reassured by this opinion but seemed unsure as how to push the topic.

“... I just thought they’d try again now that we’re back in school.”

“He can’t,” Harry told her quietly, well able to read the conflict on Hermione’s face. He sat back in his seat, not too bothered with the homework in front of him which wasn’t due for another week, as he gave his friend his full attention. “If he tries to meet with us in any other capacity than a headmaster-student meeting, Sirius said he’d press charges.”

“What?” Ron gaped incredulously, half looking like he wanted to laugh at this news.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked scandalised. “Why would he do that?”

Harry shared a glance with Rose, the latter of which raised her brows at him silently. As one they turned back to Hermione and Harry said, “because Sirius doesn’t want Dumbledore interfering with our lives anymore than he already has.”

Thank Merlin for that, Rose thought. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if Sirius had wound up being a Dumbledore-worshipping kind of person. It was the only benefit that came out of Sirius being left out to dry when everything hit the fan. It left him a lot more skeptical about people's intentions.

“But he’s trying to help,” Hermione said quietly.

Ron snorted. “Maybe, but that help involves Snape looking into Harry and Ro’s minds,” he pointed out wryly. “How we s’pose to know he doesn’t just wanna learn their secrets?”

Hermione glared at Ron, dropping her quill with a huff. “How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough.”

“He used to be a Death Eater,” Ron said stubbornly, never one to back down on this topic even in the face of Hermione’s anger. “And we’ve never seen proof that he really swapped sides.”

“Dumbledore trusts him,” Hermione repeated. “And if we can’t trust Dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.”

This was one of the main reasons Rose was reluctant to bring things up to these two; or, more accurately, Hermione. 

It always annoyed Rose how much Hermione blindly trusted Dumbledore’s opinion on things and it forever left her wary to share secrets with the girl. Mind you a big part of that wariness definitely stemmed back to their third year when Hermione went behind Harry’s back to tell McGonagall about the broom. 

It was somewhat understandable considering the circumstances, but still.

After that incident Rose could never shake the feeling that if Hermione had— what she thought was— the justifiable right, she would tell Rose’s secrets to Dumbledore or any other adult. Considering some of the topics Rose has delved into since entering the magical world, she wouldn’t be surprised if Hermione learnt about it and convinced herself that she’d be doing Rose some kind of favour by telling on her.

Saving her from the lure of Dark Magic no doubt.

Hermione depended on the authority of the adults around her, especially those with prestigious reputations, and considering Dumbledore’s, it was no surprise she considered his word the holy grail. She was somewhat hesitant last year, after the Imperius lessons with the fake-Moody, but it seemed that hesitance was long gone now that the Dark Lord was officially back.

Rose was glad that the three Gryffindors next class was due to start soon and the topic was dropped but it wouldn’t be for much longer. She’d have to talk to them eventually and while Rose seriously contemplated talking to Ron alone first, she knew it wouldn’t be right to tell one of them before the other. 

As it were, the final nudge she needed would be given three days before the February Hogsmeade trip. 

Rose always went to breakfast earlier than most, more to skip the crowds and avoid interacting with any of her housemates than anything else. This meant that by the time she was leaving, Harry and the others would just be coming in or would have just started eating. She usually spared her brother a smile, getting a sunny grin in return, and she’d head to the library to work on something before classes started.

That morning didn’t turn out that way. When Rose shot her brother their customary good morning look, Hermione hurriedly waved her over with a wide-eyed expression.

Rose frowned slightly, but moved towards them instantly, eyeing the newspaper in Hermione’s hand as she stepped up behind Harry. Her gaze flickered over to Ron who was seated on Hermione's left before turning back to Hermione as she slapped the paper down on the table between them, smoothing it out in a rushed manner.

On the front page were ten black-and-white photographs that filled the entire page, nine showing wizards’ faces and the tenth, a witch’s. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.

Antonin Dolohov, read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering up at them all, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett. 

Bellatrix Lestrange, was directly beneath the image of a woman with dark and wild hair, her eyes heavily lidded and an arrogant smile playing around her mouth, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

There were plenty of others, but most didn’t hold Rose’s attention for long, her eyes finding the dark and bold headline instead, which Hermione unnecessarily pointed out.

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN MINISTRY FEARS PETTIGREW IS “RALLYING POINT” FOR OLD DEATH EATERS

“Pettigrew?” Harry read loudly. “Not—”

Rose swiftly poked his back to silence him before he could say what she knew he was going to. Leaning forward, she began to read the accompanying article below the mugshots, scanning it at a rapid pace.

“Fudge is blaming Pettigrew for this,” Ron muttered around a mouthful of bacon.

“What other options does he have?” Hermione said bitterly. “He can hardly say, ‘Sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort’— stop whimpering, Ron— ‘and now Voldemort’s worst supporters have broken out too.’ I mean, he’s spent a good six months telling everyone Dumbledore’s a liar, hasn’t he?”

She made a good point. Rose was sure Fudge would stubbornly cling to his narrative until he had no other choice and he’d likely find himself without a job not long after the fact.

That is if the Dark Lord showed his face anytime soon.

Not a lot of people seemed as worked up about this as Hermione, though most, more than likely, didn’t subscribe to the Daily Prophet. Hermione also found an article about a man they had seen at St. Mungo’s when visiting Mr. Weasley. Apparently he was killed by some Devil’s Snare which Hermione was certain was a clever murder though she was unclear as to why.

After all that rather awful news, Hermione pulled the newspaper back to herself and closed it, glaring at the faces on the front page, then leapt to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked, Rose and Harry wondering the same thing.

“I need to write a letter,” Hermione said, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. “I have to talk to someone else too… I don’t know if it will be much help… but it’s worth trying…”

“I hate it when she does that,” Ron grumbled as he and Harry stood, while Rose glanced at the time, the trio making their way out of the Great Hall a lot slower than Hermione had. “Would it kill her to tell us what she’s up to for once? It’d take her about ten more seconds.”

The day of the Hogsmeade trip, the fourteenth of February, Hermione received a letter from an unfamiliar brown bird during breakfast. It didn’t seem to be good news as she let out an aggravated sigh after ripping open the envelope.

“Listen, Harry,” Hermione said, looking up at him, her face still screwed up in frustration. “This is very important… Can you and Ro’ meet me in the Three Broomsticks Inn around midday?”

Harry eyed her with a concerned feeling. “Is everything okay?” he asked, sharing a look with Ron.

“Yes,” Hermione said impatiently. “But I need to discuss something with you both.”

Honestly, it was sheer luck Harry was even getting to go to Hogsmeade this trip. Angelina was still as determined as ever to be as Quidditch obsessed as Oliver was and had planned to have them all stay behind to run some drills. Luckily she was convinced by the twins, Lee, Alicia, and Katie that a trip to the nearby town was much needed, especially after all the work they put forth in both quidditch and the D.A.

“I can meet you,” Harry told her. “But I think Marcus is coming to meet Ro’ this trip.”

While Hermione pursed her lips in thought, Ron glanced over at Harry. “Like for a date?”

Harry shot him a look. “Why would it be a date?”

“It’s Valentine's Day.”

“That doesn't mean anything,” Harry rebutted with an eyeroll. “Our trip just happens to be on Valentine's Day. If it was any other day he’d likely still meet her.”

Ron let the topic go with an unconcerned shrug, looking over at Hermione who was now glancing across the Great Hall to look for Rose. “I think she’s gone already,” Ron helpully told her.

His information didn’t seem much appreciated as Hermione gave a huff and looked back at Harry. “Can you find her and get her to come with you to the Three Broomsticks Inn? It’s really important.”

Seeing the harried expression on Hermione's face Harry assured her that he would, wondering what could have the girl in such a fuss. Any number of things, really.

“You really think any of the people on this list, besides the obvious, would want to talk with me?”

Rose shrugged at Marcus' question, taking the contract back as soon as he finished signing his name below Adrian’s. While it was unlikely, she still wanted the option open in case someone wished to do so. Marcus wouldn’t need any secrecy contracts for anything that Rose wouldn’t have already told him. He knew about the deal, and she would’ve divulged the contents of the Prophecy without him signing as well, but those who signed wouldn’t be able to discuss it with him unless his signature was alongside theirs.

“Have you talked to your friends yet?” Marcus asked, leaning back against the tree behind him.

The two were currently standing near the Shrieking Shack which, due to the recent escape of ten dangerous Death Eaters, was all but abandoned. Needless to say a lot of people were on edge, sticking close to the shops and walking in groups of at least three people.

Rose knew there was no chance they’d show up here; ten years in Azkaban wouldn’t exactly have them ready for chaos in just the few days they’ve been out. Even if the Dark Lord allowed it. 

Still, it benefited Rose that people were being overly cautious, it meant she could meet with Marcus without having to worry about the crowds of people. The Three Broomsticks Inn was beyond packed as they went by and Rose hadn’t the patience to wait for a table, instead leading Marcus to where they stood now.

She glanced up at Marcus as she rolled up the contract, shaking her head in reply to his question as she stuffed it away.

“Why not?” he asked smoothly, his eyes flickering around them before returning to her at once. 

Rose pulled a face, and waved a hand in the air absently. 

“You’re worried about what they’ll think,” Marcus summarised easily enough. “Both of them or just the one?”

That had Rose rolling her eyes. Marcus knew her far better than most, having long since gotten the knack of reading her actions. He without a doubt knew who she was most worried about telling, so Rose didn’t bother replying to his question.

Marcus grinned at her refusal to answer, pleased as ever when he figured out what she was thinking. “It shouldn’t be too bad,” he said reassuringly, the faint echo of smugness lingering in his voice. “I mean, this is a free safety card; they ought to be grateful. Especially the Muggleborn.”

Rose grimaced. She knew Hermione wouldn’t see it that way; Ron might, especially when he heard it all, but Merlin knew Hermione was stubborn about her point of views.

Changing the subject, Rose lifted a brow in question at Marcus. 

Pushing himself off the tree, Marcus pulled out a thick scroll out of his robes, handing it over to Rose and waited as she swiftly pulled it open. It was something she looked at multiple times over the last few weeks, though it had been edited numerous times as it was sent back and forth between her and the Dark Lord.

The final deal was as they discussed for the most part; they’d leave each other be, their fifteen people that were off limits, the Dark Lord would keep his followers from doing anything to them with the exception of those who actively fought against him, the Dark Lord was forbidden from marking anyone on the list unwillingly. Added on were some protections for the twins and their people, should it be needed; and not just from the Dark Lord’s followers. 

Dumbledore— while Rose didn’t want to believe he’d actively try to harm them— still believed the twins’ to be Horcruxes and that meant if he was going to get rid of Voldemort that meant he’d have to include them too. So Rose wanted the extra security and it wasn’t like the Dark Lord could disagree considering it was his soul. 

The fact that the other fifteen people would be protected to, should they agree, was a bonus Rose managed to tag on. Who knows what might happen.

The deal was already bearing the Dark Lord’s signature on the bottom and a blank space to the right where Rose would sign hers. She reached out to grab the quill that Marcus already had waiting in the air and slowly signed her name. As the somewhat familiar rush that accompanied signing a contract swam through her she felt a faint sense of relief that she managed to have this contract business done without Harry needing to sign anything. Though she was certain nothing dire would come from signing if they were screwed over in some way she’d rather it be her alone than the both of them.

Handing the contract back to Marcus, Rose pulled the bag that had been resting unassumingly on her shoulder off and opened it. She spared a faint sense of amusement at the packaging of the container inside and looked up at Marcus.

The older boy laughed outright as Rose pulled out a heart shaped red box, topped with a pink bow tied around it. Inside was a far more secure and obscure box that held both the diary and locket, but neither wanted to risk someone being suspicious of what Marcus was carrying, given the contents. 

And it was Valentine's Day; for all that people would be able to tell, Marcus could just be delivering a thoughtful gift to a special someone.

“Ro’!” 

The two turned their heads at the sound of Rose’s name, neither surprised by who was approaching them. As Harry climbed the small slope that led to them, Marcus tucked the box under his arm, ready to leave now that he had what he needed.

Harry’s eyes darted to the box under Marcus’s arms and lifted a brow at his sister, getting a slight head shake in return. When she shot him a questioning look Harry said, “Hermione wanted us to meet her at the Three Broomsticks Inn, said it was important. Ron said she has a table in there already.”

Rose’s brows furrowed, already thinking back to recent news and what it might have to do with Hermione’s insistence on meeting with them. 

Marcus tactfully took his leave there. “I’ll talk to you soon,” he said to Rose, getting an absent nod in reply. “Nice to see you, Potter.”

Harry shot the boy an awkward smile. “You too.”

With a loud crack Marcus disappeared and Harry quickly snagged Rose’s hand, tugging her away from the Shrieking Shack impatiently. The two winded through the numerous groups still roaming the streets, hand in hand, heading straight for the Three Broomsticks Inn. 

It was just as crowded as it had been earlier, though the line of people waiting to get a table had shortened drastically. Harry quickly spotted Ron’s hand waving through the air from a table tucked in the back corner, partially obscured by a large plant. 

Thankfully there were enough people in the Inn that Harry and Rose could slip past everyone without any stares. Mind you these were all third-years and up and they were all used to having them around. More often than not it was only the early years who would gawk at them.

Ron and Hermione weren’t the only two sitting at the table when Harry and Rose finally reached them. Surprisingly, Luna was seated on Hermione’s left, a glass of gillyweed in front of her which she was stirring with a cocktail onion on a stick. The girl's wide eyes were staring around at nothing in particular and she didn’t take notice of either twin as they sat down at the table.

“We got you guys some butterbeers,” Ron said happily, pushing two drinks in front of his friends. Harry grinned as he quickly picked his mug up to take a long sip while Rose shot Ron a grateful smile and just pulled the drink closer to herself.

“What was so important?” Harry asked after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glanced over at Luna curiously, then to his sister who was eyeing the girl as well, before turning his gaze to Hermione.

Hermione sat up straighter at Harry’s question, clearly gearing herself up for whatever she had to say. “I’m still certain Rita Skeeter is an illegal Animagus,” she said first off, not batting an eye as Rose surreptitiously waved her wand to shield their conversation from any prying ears. “I had hoped that just the threat of possibly knowing, especially since I’m fairly certain I know exactly what her form is, would be enough to secure a meeting but she refused.”

Harry frowned; he was confused as to why Hermione would want to even meet with Skeeter, considering the woman was one of her least favourite people. Ron voiced his question before Harry could though.

“Why do you even want to meet her?”

“The Daily Prophet is only posting whatever garbage Fudge allows them to,” Hermione said promptly. “That’s also why Luna’s here,” she gestured at the girl who finally turned her stare to them, “her father isn’t under Ministry control.”

“My daddy thinks it’s an awful paper,” Luna said, sucking on her cocktail onion, as she looked between Harry and Rose. “He publishes important stories that he thinks the public needs to know. He doesn’t care about making money.”

All of this only seemed to confuse Harry and Ron more, but Rose was quickly putting together where Hermione was going with this and she felt a great sense of unease crawl through her. 

“What is this about?” Harry finally asked outright, having had enough of vague half comments that Hermione more than likely expected them to already have an answer to.

“This is about getting the truth out there, Harry.” Hermione said grandly. “We need to make an article about it all. We’ll have to find another reporter but we can make do, and Luna’s father will post it in the Quibbler.”

“You want me to do an interview about the third task,” Harry finally realised, his question more of a cautious statement as he glanced at Rose who was watching Hermione with a blank expression.

“Yes, I do,” Hermione said. “The true story. All the facts. Exactly as you report them. You can write out all the details, and the names of the undiscovered Death Eaters you saw there, you’ll say what Voldemort looks like now— oh, get a grip on yourself,” she added impatiently as Ron spilled a bit of his drink at the sound of the Dark Lord’s name.

“Hermione, I can’t do that—” Harry started to protest.

“I know Sirius said not to get involved,” Hermione interrupted, sitting forward with an impassioned expression. “But adults not wanting us involved has never stopped us before! We have to—”

“Hermione!” 

Harry was glad that Rose thought to put up some kind of security measure around them as he most assuredly would have drawn more than a few looks after that. Ron and Hermione both jumped at his raised voice, both looking at him with wide eyes. Taking a deep breath, Harry forced himself to speak slow and evenly, making sure to keep eye contact with Hermione. “It’s not about Sirius not wanting us to be involved; it’s about us not wanting to be involved.”

Silence rang out after Harry’s proclamation and Rose grabbed his hand under the table, squeezing it once in silent support. 

“I think it’s time I go,” Luna said suddenly, not sounding at all affected by the conversation. “The Wrackspurts are getting to be awfully terrible in here,” she added absently, looking up at the air around them. Rose resisted the urge to smile at the girl’s observation, instead watching silently as Luna stood, not waiting for a reply from any of them as she drifted away into the crowds.

“Maybe we should discuss this somewhere—” Ron started slowly, only to be cut off by Hermione.

“Harry, we need to do this. It’s the right thing to do, the truth needs to be out there!”

She had a familiar stubborn look on her face, the same one she wore when she campaigned for house-elf rights, the same one she wore when she defended Crookshanks’ continuous attempts on Scabbers life. The sight of it had Harry wanting to sigh, unsure how to make Hermione let this go. He didn’t need to think about it too much as Rose sat forward, reaching into her bag and pulling out something Harry had only seen twice before. Unrolling it, Rose laid out the contract and summound a quill seemingly from nowhere, holding it out to Ron and Hermione.

“What’s this?” Hermione asked, wind taken out of her sails abruptly as she leaned forward to read the contract. “A secrecy contract,” she answered herself at once.

“A secrecy contract?” Ron uttered in confusion.

Rose just nodded while Harry helpfully supplied. “It just means whatever we say in the next hour can’t be repeated to, or seen in your mind by, anyone other than those who sign the contract.”

While Hermione continued reading the fine print, Ron sat forward with a shrug, taking the quill from Rose as he glanced at the names already signed on the bottom. He trusted Harry and Rose, and neither felt the need for secrecy contracts when sharing information before, so if they felt they had to now it was clearly important. 

Ron was almost certain this had to do with whatever Harry and Rose were holding back from telling them since school started and he was more than ready to be done with secrets.

“Fred and George?” He couldn’t help but voice his surprise, glancing up at the two and catching Rose’s easy nod just in time. With a mental shrug this time, Ron scribbled his name next to Fred’s before pushing the quill into Hermione empty hand.

Hermione didn’t sign right away. “Why do you need this?” She asked, the air-tightness of the contract having her taken aback. She looked up at the twins and took in the grimace on Harry’s face and the unrelenting expression on Rose’s. Hermione glanced over at Ron who lifted his brows in a silent urge to hurry up and sign. 

With a huff Hermione carefully wrote her name beside George’s, just under Ron’s own name, and Rose took the contract back. 

She shot her brother a pointed look as she waited for the ink to dry and Harry widened his eyes at her in protest. Rose huffed and jerked her head towards their friends and he groaned under his breath, his eyes darting over to where Ron and Hermione were waiting with expectant expressions.

Harry heaved a big sigh, his hand absently reaching up to push through his hair and then flattening his bangs back over his forehead. Hermione opened her mouth to say something but was nudged by Ron who shot her a look that pointedly said, ‘just wait’.

“We’re not getting involved in the war,” Harry said in one breath. Rose glanced at him and Harry could practically hear her voice in his head saying, ‘yeah, you’ve said that already’. Shaking his head, Harry ignored her for the time being and looked between his friends.

“It’s no secret that Dumbledore expects me and Ro’ to be involved in the war,” Harry said slowly, starting off with what Ron and Hermione already knew. “We’ve never really known why beyond us surviving Voldemort’s attack as babies, but it always seemed like more than that. Over the summer Sirius took us to the Ministry, to a department that is guarded and supposedly top secret.”

“The one Dad was guarding when he was attacked?” Ron questioned, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “You see, the thing the Order is guarding isn’t a weapon… it’s a prophecy.”

Hermione frowned. “A prophecy?”

She sounded a bit incredulous, which was expected. Hermione didn’t exactly make her distaste for all things Divination a secret and Rose spared a thought to how much weight she’d put into the thing. Normally she’d say the girl would scoff at it, just as she had the one Treweleny made about Pettigrew, but Dumbledore believed in this one which, if past events were to tell, would mean Hermione would put a lot more weight on the subject.

Harry glanced around at the Inn, hardly believing they were having this conversation here of all places. “Yeah,” he said again as he looked back to them, scanning their expressions carefully. “It was made not long before we were born and it’s why Voldemort attacked our family to begin with.”

“Why’s he still tryna get it if he knows it?” Ron asked with a frown.

“Cause he only heard part of it,” Harry told him. “And considering what happened… he probably wants to make sure he has all the information before doing anything else.”

Once bitten, twice shy, after all.

“So, Dumbledore believes it’s true?” Hermione clarified slowly. “He believes in the Prophecy and that’s why he’s having the Order guard it?”

Harry and Rose both silently nodded in reply.

“What’s it say?”

Harry glanced at Ron and sighed. “It said that two kids would be born at the end of July with the power to defeat the Dark Lord and that he’d mark them as his equals– that was the part he heard back when we were babies. The part he didn’t hear said that they’d have some power the Dark Lord didn’t know and either they’d kill him or he’d kill them; no other way.”

Ron and Hermione stared at them both with wide eyes. Sure they knew the twins were constantly mixed up with Voldemort, the man going out of his way to target them time and time again, but they didn’t expect anything like this . It answered a lot of questions but it scared them too, scared them to think that if Voldemort heard the full prophecy he’d no doubt double his efforts in trying to kill the twins.

“So, either you kill him or he doesn’t die…” Ron said slowly.

Harry frowned and said, “that’s what Dumbledore believes, but that doesn’t mean it's true.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“Well, Sirius said prophecies are self-fulfilling, they only have truth if people believe they do.” Harry told her, not wanting them to get the idea that it had to be them.

“But he marked you both,” Hermione pointed out. “It’s clearly already true, if at least partially.”

Harry’s brows pulled together, and he tried to make a retort to that but couldn’t think of one, at least none that would convince Hermione who already seemed to be hoping on board with the whole prophecy business.

Rose sat forward suddenly. “Regardless of what this prophecy says, my brother and I are not getting involved in this war. If Dumbledore's plans rely solely on us then the magical world is in for a lot of trouble.” She spoke firmly, leaving no room for any doubt as to their stand in this war.

“You’re not going to help fight?” 

Rose’s eyes flickered to Hermione. “No, we’re not.”

Ron didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t surprised, he had long since known that Rose wasn’t one for fighting; the only times she did were when Harry dragged her along and she’d go to make sure he made it out alive. He would support the twins’ decision, as much as part of him wanted to protest the idea, but he couldn’t help but poke holes in their plan, his chess playing mind already thinking ahead three steps.

“Just cause you choose not to fight, doesn’t mean it will turn out that way,” Ron cautiously pointed out. “I get why you’d choose it, I support it even, but You-Know-Who has been after you since you were babies, why would he leave you alone now? You’re already at risk, same with those closest to you.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “Yeah, we’re aware, that’s where this contract comes in.”

Their friends both frowned and Harry waited for Rose to explain, this was more her part in things than his. 

“In second year,” Rose started off quietly. “I realised quickly that the diary was important, that it had be something of high value to the Dark Lord. Since then I had come across another object very similar to the diary and used both to secure a meeting with the Dark Lord.”

“A meeting?”

“Wait— the diary was destroyed.”

Ron and Hermione both spoke at the same time and Rose didn’t let it deter her explanation. “The diary wasn’t destroyed, it was contained, cut off from any outside factors it could affect.” Rose told them evenly. “I used it and the other object to get the Dark Lord to agree to leave me and Harry, as well as fifteen people of our choosing, alone in the upcoming war.”

“You— what?”

Ron appeared to be speaking on behalf of him and Hermione both as the two all but gaped at the twins. Harry couldn’t resist the urge to glance around anxiously, still worried that they were having this conversation so publically.

Rose didn’t spare a glance at the crowds surrounding them. “The agreement was that as long as we, and the people we chose, stayed out of the Dark Lord’s way and didn’t do anything that could be seen as an act against him, then he’d leave us be.”

“We have to fight him,” Hermione said suddenly. “What he’s done— what he’s planning to do— we have to stop him!”

“Our list of people are chosen already,” Rose said, not responding to Hermione's protest. “The two of you are obviously on it and as long as you follow the agreement then the Dark Lord and everyone who follows him— marked and unmarked— will leave you alone.”

Ron opened and shut his mouth repeatedly. “Wh–Who else is on your list?” He sputtered.

Rose made a vague gesture at the table as she said, “everyone who signed the contract is on the list, plus the rest of your siblings and your parents.”

“My whole family?” Ron asked faintly.

“Yeah,” Harry chimed in. “We included Percy; we know things are a bit tense with him but he’s still a Weasley.”

Ron glanced at the table top at thought of the two names he noticed first on the contract. “Fred and George already agreed?”

Rose shook her head. “The signing of the contract is just so people won't speak about this, it’s not an agreement to stand aside. I believe they’re both waiting for the rest of your family to sign so they can discuss it with you all.”

“Waiting?”

“The contract stipulates that you can only discuss what we’ve talked about with those who have signed. You can talk about it with the twins now but you’ll be unable to discuss it with the rest of your family until they sign. I promised Fred and George that I’d let them know when I’ve informed you all.”

Ron felt as though he’d been hit with a stunner directly on his chest. He obviously didn’t want to fight in a war— who would pick it if they really had a choice?— but he’d been ready to. He’d been all prepared to join the Order at seventeen alongside the twins, his parents, and Bill, and fight to protect his family. They were targets, that was no doubt. Not only were they close with Harry and Rose, but they were a prominent Light family that was publically loyal to Dumbledore. Ron had been aware since first year that they would all be at risk, that they’d all have to fight if they wanted to keep living.

Only that wasn’t true now. Now Rose was sitting here telling him that she managed to get an agreement from the You-Know-Who to leave his entire family alone. His family was safe.

“You said they couldn’t do anything that could be seen as an act against Voldemort,” Hermione cut it in suddenly. “What exactly does that mean?”

Rose glanced away from Ron to look over at her. “It means not going out of your way to interfere or stop any moves he makes.” She looked back to Ron and said gently. “Being a member of the Order of the Phoenix is an act against him.”

“What happens then?” Ron asked urgently. “What if they do that?”

“Then the Dark Lord would be free to act as he sees fit,” Rose said slowly, scanning Ron’s urgent expression. “Keep in mind, given my location restraints that keep me from informing certain people on our list, this won’t take effect until after our sixteenth birthday,” Rose promised him, reaching out to grab his hand on the table, squeezing it firmly. “For now he has made the agreement to hold back on any attacks.”

Ron let out a sigh of relief, clutching Rose’s hand in return. 

Hermione looked between the two, her expression tight and conflicted. “So, we’re just supposed to do nothing?” She asked quietly.

Rose stared at her and sat back, releasing Ron’s hand with one final squeeze. “No. If you choose to fight you are more than welcome to. It’s just neither Harry nor I will help you if things get ugly.”

Ron and Hermione watched the twins with a mixture of expressions. Scanning their faces to try and get a read of how serious they were about this— they were very serious. Neither was sure what to say now; Harry and Rose laid out exactly what they planned to do and it was left entirely up to them to decide what to do next. Either way, Harry and Rose’s plans weren’t changing.

“We have till your sixteenth birthday,” Hermione repeated tightly.

Rose nodded silently. 

“Okay then.”

Chapter Text

The Dark Lord Voldemort’s plans had taken a dramatic turn as of late. To say he had been surprised— and furious— and suspicious— to hear from Rose Potter would be a vast understatement. 

The evening Lucius returned from delivering a message to Severus, pale and frightful as he approached his Lord, with the news that he was asked to deliver a letter to him from Rose Potter was one he thought of often. Any information he received about the twin brats that continuously got in his way were more often than not from Lucius and Severus.

Spoilt. Entitled. Arrogant. Mediocre.

Countless and countless of comments, some delivered as information, others tossed out casually when relaying something else entirely.

Harder to remember were the thoughts Barty offered him during the duration of last year.

Talented. Gifted. Surprise.

His plans before receiving the letter had been straightforward. Get either of the Potter twins to the Ministry so they could retrieve the Prophecy from the shelves and his followers would deliver it to him. Alongside this plan was his one to release his most loyal followers from behind the walls of Azkaban, a reward for their dedication to him.

The first set of plans were now no longer needed. As Lucius surreptitiously delivered letters back and forth with Potter— contracts of security amongst them, clever— a meeting was put in place. 

Not one he expected but one that pleased him greatly.

Dumbledore’s two saviours had no interest in fighting his fight for him, going to great lengths to ensure that they would not have to, in fact. When he first realised this he wanted to cackle, a delirious sort of glee thrumming through his blood with every pounding heartbeat. 

Fool. Fool. Fool.

Rose Potter was one he did not have much information on, other than the obvious; that being her refusal to speak to much of anyone. His information on either of them was limited at best, as he could barely summon the patience to read or find anything about them without his anger and desire for revenge surging with the instinct to dispose of the brats once and for all.

Infuriating. Maddening.

He heavily debated not bothering with the contracts, thought of stalling the girl past the hour and killing her then and there. Then finding her brother and torturing him until he spilled the secrets of where his Horcruxes were hidden.

Except— they were his Horcruxes as well. Hidden deep in their scars were tiny slivers of his soul.

There would have been a point in time where it unnerved him that he hadn’t registered this, that his soul had been split once again without him even realising. Not now though. Now his thoughts were so focused ahead that he couldn’t bother to spare a thought to his consequences. 

Kill them. Rule them.

Despite his scattered thoughts for the past many decades— especially the last one, losing his body had taken its toll— he was still far more intelligent than most. He diligently worked on the contract that would be the signed agreement from the Potter twins to stay out of his way and after that Dumbledore would be his only obstacle.

His other Horcruxes were surely safe. It had been only due to the idiocy of Lucius and the cowardly actions of Black that they discovered the ones they had. His others would be safe, no one would find them, no one was as intelligent, nor as clever, as him to work it out.

Smarter. Greater.

His most loyal were recuperating in the desolate husk that once was Riddle Manor. He was tempted to start plans straight away but when the contract— the contract— had been delivered to him by Lucius, he realised he needed to prepare.

Absorb the diary, that was the agreement.

Stupid. Waste.

He did not know what Rose Potter hoped to come of this— he did know, her disrespectful words still ringing in his mind— but he’d play her game for now. It hardly changed anything for him, he’d still have the seven pieces he desired.

He was prepared now, all the items laid out in front of him as he stood in a ritual room he designed in the basement of Riddle Manor. The floor was almost entirely made of old and worn cobblestone except for the centre of the room where the stones had been hastily removed to reveal the dirt that lay beneath. The shelves that were fixated on the walls were dark, dirty and dusty, with cobwebs clinging to the jars and books that sat upon them. A small, fragile-looking table was off to the side with numerous items upon it and there were random bits of paper on the floor that he cared very little for removing. His part of their agreement was ready to be fulfilled as Ostara was upon them and magic thrummed through the air around him.

This is where his victory truly started. This is where his new world began and Dumbledore’s ended; oblivious as the old man was. 

Weak. Pathetic.

Most thought regret was what was needed to reverse a Horcrux, a foolishly Light way of thinking. There were other ways, one to be precise, that required the Darkest of magic; what else could undo that which was said to be irrevocable. It was painful, beyond excruciating, but victories were never without some sacrifice.

His movements were careful, precise, as he waved his wand around with one hand and the other, his right hand, summoned one of the items placed before him, he let out a steady stream of words too low for anyone to hear even if they were standing right next to him.

No one was nearby, this wing of the manor closed off to everyone except Nagini, who lay faithfully near the only entrance and ready to attack should anyone dare step foot in his corridors. 

His eyes were trained on the diary, lying at the centre of the carefully carved out array of runes in the dirt. He stepped along the edge of them, his bare feet remaining on the cold stone flooring, placing items down here and there, still keeping up his spellwork. 

The diary flipped open, the pages rapidly turning until they reached the centre of the book and it flattened out. With a deep pulling sensation, the Dark Lord was brought to his knees, never stopping his words or lowering his wand, and he watched as a black ichorous substance began bubbling out of the pages. It slowly morphed together, rising up in spasmodic movements before forming the shape of a hand slightly smaller than his own.

It was working.

Pushing his magic forward and slashing his wand downwards, he watched as the hand jerked and shot upward, a long arm extending outwards before bending to press against the book's edge, using it to thrust itself upward.

With a harsh exhale, he finished off the verbal portion of the ritual, focusing his attention entirely on the magic, watching with a fierce expression as the substance continued to bubble, and a headlike shape emerged, its features obscure in the mass of its form. Another arm quickly followed, the slope of shoulders more distinct, and the other arm reached outward, palm facing up and its hand opened beseechingly. 

He felt his magic swell beneath his skin and a glow emitted around him as a high pitched sound rang in his ears alongside the rattling of the items on the shelves. With one last elaborate movement of his wand arm, he stretched out his free hand, fingers nearing the dark figure’s. The glow expanded until he could no longer see anything around him and he felt his fingertips brush against anothers.

Then there was a scream; a blood-curdling scream.

From the diary.

From him.

Then.

Nothing.

The first thing he became aware of was a sense of… control and then; the thrum of power in his veins.

Opening his eyes, Tom was met with the unremarkable view of the ceiling in his basement. His eyes lazily drifted across its surface, spotting a few dark spots and cracks here and there as he gathered his thoughts. He let his head drop to his left to where his arm was outstretched, hand laying palm up on the exposed earth in the floor, and without much effort his fingers twitched and a ball of illuminating-blue flames ignited above his hand. 

He let out a laugh of disbelief as he watched the flames dance around, licking at the air eagerly, before he dosed it with another twitch of his fingers.

Tom was filled with a sudden sense of realisation. He had been blind and deluded in his search for immortality, hadn’t realised just what he was giving up along the way. He always had a great control over his magic, far beyond anyone else, and still did to an extent, the entirety of Britain didn’t fear him for nothing after all, but as the years went on his control had wavered. Things that were once as simple as a twitch of the fingers now required a fierce feeling of rage to fuel it. 

And Tom– hadn’t even noticed it. 

His first Horcrux took more than he thought it did, more than he thought it would, and because of that he couldn’t make the connections as he continued to make more. His appearance warped, not because of the Dark Magic he wielded, but because of the pieces of his soul that he sealed away. His fits of rage grew and grew, his sense of forethought and reason wavered.

He could feel the magic in his veins, steadily prowling beneath the surface waiting for his beck and call. The control he had on it wasn’t something he felt since his Hogwarts days, the assuredness in its ability to react.

With a heaving breath, Tom pushed himself upward into a seated position, glancing around at the chaotic remains of his ritual. Items were strewn about and the runes now long gone, only a black scorch mark remaining in some of the places they once were. He barely took notice of any of this though.

Instead his mind was quickly running through his memories, seeing each one in a new light and questions forming. He had been lost in power, missing pieces that he should have connected, throwing away information carelessly, so sure no one would ever work it all out.

Foolish. Regulus Black was just glaring proof of his impetuous actions. That a boy no older than eighteen had managed to not only discover he had Horcruxes but was able to steal one from where it had been hidden and safeguarded. 

Tom needed to gather the others. They weren’t safe away from him, they weren’t safe squirreled away in the spots they were. Dumbledore— loathed as he was to admit it— knew him fairly well, if he knew of the diary then he would quickly put together that he would have made more and would search them out. For so long his mind had been in a fog, one that only his rage and arrogance could rise out of, and he’d made mistakes. He made moves that he never imagined he would make before, borderline Gryffindorish moves. No subtly, no cunning, just a faint sense of planning and then forcefulness.

Tom raised himself to a stand as he gazed vacantly ahead of himself. There were things he needed done, plans that now needed changing, information that needed to be gathered. He stepped towards the doorway, ignoring the crunching sound of something beneath his still bare feet, and glanced absently about the room, his gaze freezing on a now broken mirror that hung precariously on the wall. 

He instantly recognized the face in front of him, despite not seeing it in decades. It was splintered with the cracks in the mirror and slightly older– perhaps mid-to-late thirties– but he’d know it anywhere. His eyes were still red, deep like the colour of blood, but his hair was back, a shade darker than in his youth, bordering on black now, and his human-like features were returned to him. 

Running a hand across his jaw, Tom grinned, putting his pearly white teeth on full display, his expression more intimidating than anything. He hadn’t expected this but welcomed the change. His eyes darted around the room and with a faint flick of his wrist, it quickly righted itself, things that were broken repairing with ease. 

With a last glance at the now straight and pristine mirror, Tom turned to leave the room, still sorting through memories but with one immediate goal in mind.

Tom’s heart pounded with an almost intoxicating sense of power as he stared out at the mass of robed forms, all of whom wore masks that obscured their identities from one another. Each one was bowed on one knee in front of the platform he was standing upon, with only a single throne behind him, as he stood near its edge. None dared to look at him directly, some out of fear, some out of respect, as he silently took them in.

Not that they’d see much of anything if they had. Tom was draped in the same dark and heavy robes he typically wore for the last countless decades. The hood was up and it had numerous spells upon it that kept his face from view, leaving behind only a dark, unnerving, empty space. His feet were bare but the stone dais, as well as the marble floor of the rest of the room, were charmed to remain a comfortable warmth.

The room they were in was one of the few that he had redone inside Riddle Manor, Lucius hiring an inconspicuous team to do so after having them sign contracts that most Pureblood families gave their contractors. 

He had had no plans to do any other rooms, caring very little for surroundings when it came to his need for revenge and power. The only reason the meeting room was done was because he had felt the need to put up a show of mightiness and a dark decrepit meeting room did not do that. 

Only his most loyal would see the rest of the manor, his inner circle and a few sparse others that he knew feared him far too greatly to ever turn on him, and he was certain that they both respected and feared him enough not to let their surroundings affect their opinion of him. The same couldn’t be said for the greater masses, a great deal of which were power hungry snakes just waiting to strike, useless as such an action would be.

Now though, Tom was already making plans in the back of his mind to redo every room in the manor as well as double the wards surrounding what would now be his homebase. True he cared very little for the filthy Muggle blood given to him by his father, but a place as auspicious as the one the Riddles had wasn't found just anywhere. The town it was in was also small and all its residents steered clear of the assumed haunted manor that lay atop the hill at the edge of town.

That could wait for now though, he thought to himself, his gaze trailing across the waiting forms, a smirk pulling on his face at their subservience. They had been subsumed in nothing but silence after arriving nearly ten minutes ago and no one moved a single muscle. 

For so long the enjoyment of this had been lost to him, barely taking a moment to revel in the power these people gave to him. They knew their place in their world, directly beneath his feet, and they all clamoured and clawed their way to this position. Tom wanted to drink the feeling in, and he did so with little care for the no doubt increasingly uncomfortable position they were all in. Admittedly, the fact that they were uncomfortable only increased his bliss.

Still, he’d have plenty of more time to enjoy this feeling.

“My loyal followers,” Tom hissed out with a contemptuous voice, practically tasting the tension the rose in the air at the sound of his voice. This was the first full meeting he called and while news quickly spread through his followers, as well as the Azkaban breakout no doubt confirming his return to them, he hadn’t felt the need to gather them all together like this. The night at the graveyard he called those available from his inner circle to him and decided he was going to wait until he freed the rest before gathering his entire following. He used a few of them sparingly when needed, but none of them had suited his plans as of yet.

Now, he needed to make things clear, he needed to establish the new rules and show them that he was truly back, more powerful than ever before.

“Have you missed me?” He asked in a mocking tone, his gaze trailing across the dark room. The dark marble floor in front of him was completely open, barring the kneeling group currently on it, and along the walls were wide, intricate pillars that towered up to the high-ceiling. They, along with the walls and ceiling, were black as well, the only light offered in the room were the torches that hung on the walls with glowing green flames flickering and sending shadows dancing around them all.

It was a deliciously ominous design.

“As I’m sure you have all heard by now, just last June I made my triumphant return.” Tom waved a hand blithely to the side as though he had no care in the world, though no one could witness the action. “In a graveyard, not far from here, in fact. Using the very blood that once foiled me,” he gave a sharp laugh that had more than a few shoulders tensing. 

“And yet,” he went on, “I find myself displeased. The years I’ve been gone, it seems it was forgotten how far my reach goes. Did you think I would not learn what you have been doing whilst I struggled? Did you think I would not find out how you all abandoned me the first chance you were offered it?”

A few of the figures were shaking in fear— in shame— though none dared to look up. Tom let his eyes trail to the very front of the crowd, and his gaze lingered on a few of them. 

“Except—” he countered himself softly. “For the very few. Those who would rather be locked away in Azkaban than deny their loyalty to me.” He smirked. “They will be rewarded, of course, Lord Voldemort always rewards those who are loyal.”

He was being honest. Tom wouldn’t forget those of his followers who let themselves be locked away rather than offer some flippant excuse in order to keep their freedom. The ones who still spoke of him proudly rather than hide behind a facade of derision or indifference whenever his name– or his monikers of You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named— was mentioned.

“Plans are being made,” Tom went on, glancing across the room, absently taking in the carefully crafted base of the marble columns in the room. “This is our beginning. We may have lost a few years but have no doubt, we will prevail, that I am more certain of than ever before.” He turned his attention back to his followers, moving until he stood at the centre in front of them all. 

“There are rules that will be followed.” Tom said in a cold voice, making sure his power was as palpable as the gravity in his voice was. He knew they could feel it, the strength of it coiling out in waves in the air around them, their heads bowing lower in submission. “First; the Potter twins are mine and mine alone to deal with, if any one of you so much as aims your wand in their direction I will ensure you regret every continued breath you take. Understood?”

There was a rush of murmurs after his question, more than a few nodding rapidly as well, obviously desperate to show they understood this rule.

“This also goes for those closest to them. If anyone is going to take something from those two, it will be me who does so, and if any of you build enough arrogance to even try to do so, it will be the last thing you ever do.” A faint noise rose up from the left side of the crowd and Tom’s head instantly turned to it, eyes narrowed. His expression relaxed into a smirk as he recognized Nagini’s familiar form slowly weaving between his followers. Tom let a slight hiss enter his voice as he said. “I will make sure to find every last person or thing that ever meant anything to you and I will destroy each one of them.” 

Nagini paid no mind to her master's followers as she made her way to the front of the room, Tom watching on with a careful eye. As she slid past them she’d let out the occasional hiss that would have those nearest to her tensing. 

“Rise,” Tom said at once, watching as they hurried to obey, some shakily rising while others did so with ease and grace. Soon they all stood in front him, their faces identical with their masks on, and they waited with baited breath for him to speak. 

“Another rule,” Tom hissed suddenly, his fingers twitching at his side causing some to flinch. “You make no moves unless I order them. If I hear of any raids, any kills, any spread of information that I did not authorize, I will tear your minds apart until you are nothing but a desolate husk.” He surveyed them all with a dark expression that went unseen. “Understood?”

Again another hurried murmur went around the room. 

Nagini had finally reached him, bypassing his figure in order to coil herself around his throne, more than likely preparing to climb its back in order to perch herself somewhere she could watch them all.

“Those who are not a member of my inner circle are dismissed.” Tom finally called after a long moment of silence. 

Everyone who wasn’t near the front swiftly turned to leave, well aware what would happen if they took too long to go. As the last of them dwindled out the door to head to the assigned Apparation point, and the door swung shut behind them, Tom looked to his most loyal. 

“Remove your masks.”

Bella, of course, was the first to do so, tearing it from her face to stare up at him with an enraptured expression. The others weren’t far behind her; Rodolphus and Rabastan on either side of Bella, Lucius just to their right. Obviously Crabbe and Goyle were next to him, never far from the Malfoy Lord just as their heirs did the same to Lucius’ son. Dolohov, Travers, Macnair and Avery stood together, had always made a point to as the four had been schoolmates together and joined him at the same time. Yaxley was on the other side of Rabastan, with Nott and Rookwood next to him. 

The last of them was one who Tom went through a lot of work to keep alive, or, as much as he had been able to at the time. His loyal Barty stood at the edge of the group, nearly bouncing on his toes as he waited for further instructions. 

Tom hadn’t intended for Harry Potter to survive but he had intended to send another lower Death Eater to bring Rose Potter to him. That obviously did not happen in the chaos that was his rebirth, but when he had received word that Barty’s true identity had been discovered, he had his Death Eater instead, replace his most loyal helper with a random Muggle he’d found and given Polyjuice to. It had been a short term solution at first, Tom already coming up with plans as to what to do next, but then the Minister— the utter fool that he was— had insisted that the Muggle be Kissed. Fearing for his safety he claimed.

His later plans hadn’t been needed after that and Barty’s double had been disposed of.

Tom would have been very displeased if he hadn’t managed to get Barty out of that situation. Or— until a few days ago, he would have felt mostly inconvenienced at losing someone with Barty’s skillset, but now, with his mind clearer than it had been in so long, he was certain he would have been very displeased.