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Chapter Text

             Under the willow tree

The sun was warm on the stone steps of Hogwarts Castle, and the group that tumbled out of the doors laughed like they didn't have a care in the world.

James Potter was leading the way, robes caught on the breeze behind him and hair as windswept as ever. Sirius Black strolled at his side, his tie half-untied and a charming sort of grin tugging at his mouth. Remus Lupin had a stack of books pressed to his chest and Peter Pettigrew trailed behind him, nearly tripping over a stair as he tried to catch up.

Just a step behind them all, as always, was Rose Potter.

"You lot walk like you're the centre of the world," she muttered, trying to fix the strap of her bag without dropping her quill tin.

"That's because we are," James said, glancing over his shoulder and tossing her a wink. "Now hurry up, Rosie, we're not waiting forever."

She made a face but sped up. Rose was fifteen, two years behind her brother, and thoroughly sick of being called Rosie, but she had long since learned there was no point arguing when James was in this mood.

Behind her, three more girls joined the group as they moved across the courtyard. Lily Evans caught up to Rose first, nudging her arm.

"You planning to hex him today?" Lily asked with a dry smile.

"Not yet," Rose replied. "But I'm keeping my wand ready."

Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene McKinnon followed just behind, hand-in-hand as usual. Marlene's wild curls bounced with each step, and Dorcas was smiling at something only the two of them had shared.

"You're both disgusting," Sirius called over his shoulder, not bothering to look.

"Jealous, Black?" Marlene shot back.

"No, I'm just saying, keep the snogging to a minimum while the rest of us are trying to digest," Sirius replied, loud enough for the first-years nearby to hear. They snorted.

"Ignore him," Remus murmured, bumping Sirius gently with his shoulder. "He says that to hide the fact that he blushes when people kiss in public."

"Do not," Sirius muttered, but he was already grinning.

They spilled out onto the grass, crossing the sun-drenched lawn toward the lake. The whomping willow rustled gently in the breeze, leaves shimmering green and gold in the late afternoon light. Underneath the wide oak tree just to its left, they settled like they had dozens of times before.

"Why does Slughorn keep trying to get me to join the Slug Club?" James groaned as he flopped onto the grass. "I told him I had Quidditch practice and he still gave me that look."

"Because you're a Potter," Lily said, primly sitting down beside Rose. "And you're good at things."

"I'm not joining a club that meets in a room that smells like old meat pies," James declared. "Besides, I have better things to do."

"Oh?" Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Like what? Secret rendezvous behind the Quidditch stands again?"

There was just enough of a pause that Remus glanced up.

James laughed too easily. "Don't be daft. I'm not you and Moony."

Remus shook his head and returned to his book, but not before shooting Sirius a look that said behave.

Rose had gone quiet. She stared at the lake, pretending not to notice the way Sirius's teasing had hit just a little too close to the truth. She did know where James had been going some nights. 

She had followed him once, curious and worried in equal measure. She had seen the way Regulus Black waited near the owlery, eyes sharp and quiet, and how James had smiled like someone he could finally be himself with.

She hadn't told anyone. Not even Sirius.

"Dorcas and I are heading into Hogsmeade," Marlene said, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers. "We've got an appointment at Madam Primpernelle's."

"To make yourselves even more revolting?" Sirius asked.

"Exactly," Dorcas said with a grin, standing and brushing grass off her skirt. "And you'll all just have to survive without us."

"Barely," James said dramatically.

Rose watched them go with a small smile. Dorcas bent to kiss Marlene on the cheek before they disappeared up the path toward the gates. She liked how easy it seemed for them. How natural.

Peter leaned back against the tree and sighed. "I don't know why anyone would want to go to Hogsmeade today. The weather's too nice to be inside."

"The weather's too nice to be in Potions, too, but that didn't stop Snape from nearly boiling my eyebrows off," James grumbled.

"That's because you called him a grease stain," Lily pointed out.

"It's not my fault he insists on skulking," James defended himself. "He actually hissed at me today. Like a cat."

"I think he likes you," Sirius offered with mock sincerity. "That's his way of flirting."

Rose snorted. "Must be why you used to throw dungbombs at his bed."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "I told you that in confidence."

Remus sighed again. "You're all awful."

Rose watched her brother laugh, watched how the others looked at him like the sun rose behind his back. It had always been this way. James leading, Sirius laughing, Remus grounding them all. Peter trailing behind but never quite out of place.

And she, Rose, was just glad to be here. To be near them. To watch it unfold like magic that wasn't in any textbook.

The sun was warm, and the wind was soft, and nothing bad had happened yet.

James was the first to break the lazy stillness.

"I'm bored."

Rose, who had been half-dozing with her chin on her knees, rolled her eyes. "You've been bored for six minutes."

"That's five minutes too long," Sirius agreed, sitting up and cracking his knuckles. "We need to do something productive."

"Your version of productive includes setting off three alarms in the kitchens last week," Lily said, flipping a page in her Charms book. She didn't even look up. "And nearly getting Rose detention, might I add."

Rose shrugged. "I didn't mind. I got free treacle tart out of it."

"See?" James said proudly. "Sibling loyalty."

"That's not what that means," Lily muttered.

James ignored her and turned to Sirius. "I've been thinking."

"Oh, brilliant," Remus muttered. "The last time you said that, we ended up accidentally dyeing Filch's cat violet."

Peter chuckled. "To be fair, it took three days for the color to wear off."

"This is more important," James said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "We need a better way to hex Snape."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Lily groaned, finally looking up. "He hasn't even looked at you this week."

"He stared at me in Potions like he was planning my murder," James argued. "And he switched my powdered hornroot with toast crumbs. My cauldron nearly exploded."

"You deserved it," Rose said lightly. "You called him a rat in front of Slughorn."

"I did not," James protested, then paused. "Okay, yes, I did, but only because he tried to jinx Marlene under the table."

"Marlene jinxed him first," Remus pointed out.

"Details," James said.

Sirius grinned. "So what are you thinking? A charm he can't trace back? Something subtle?"

"Something clever," James said, and turned to Rose. "You brought your brother's notebook, didn't you?"

"I'm not your spell mule," Rose said, but she reached into her bag and pulled out the worn leather journal anyway. James took it from her, flipping through the pages until he found a half-finished scribble titled Untraceable Redirect Hexes.

"Perfect," he said.

"Oh no," Lily said immediately. "Absolutely not."

"Oh yes," Sirius said at the same time.

Peter leaned over James' shoulder as he traced the notes with a finger. "Some of these are crossed out."

"They're incomplete," James said. "But that's the point. We finish them. Improve them. Field test."

"Where? Not here," Remus said, looking around. "We're too exposed."

James waved him off. "No one ever comes this far out unless they're hiding a hangover. We're fine."

"I'll cast perimeter wards," Sirius offered, already reaching for his wand.

"You're both impossible," Lily said, exasperated. "And if Slughorn finds out, I'm not saving your skins again."

"You say that like you won't be completely impressed when it works," James replied.

"I say that like I enjoy not being expelled," she shot back.

But she didn't leave.

Rose shifted to sit beside James, watching as he copied one of the scribbled ideas onto a clean bit of parchment. She'd seen him like this before -- focused, gleaming with possibility. He had a kind of magic about him even when he wasn't holding a wand.

Remus watched quietly, his thumb brushing over a scar on the side of his hand. He'd been tired lately, darker under the eyes, paler than usual. Rose had started to notice the way he checked the calendar, the way Lily passed him chocolate without asking.

The moon was nearly full. She could feel it. Something in the air was sharper than usual.

"Do you think it'll work?" Peter asked.

"Only one way to find out," Sirius said, flicking his wand at a dead leaf nearby. It hovered in the air, shimmered, then burst into smoke.

"Not like that," James said, snatching the parchment back. "You skipped the third flick."

"I did not."

"You did," Rose said, leaning over his arm. "Watch--like this."

She performed the movement with careful precision, and the same leaf began to tremble. For a moment, it seemed to crackle with light, then fizzled and fell limp.

James whistled. "Almost."

Rose grinned, pleased. "Give me another go."

"You're all ridiculous," Lily said, but her voice had softened. She was watching Remus now, concern hidden behind the tilt of her book.

Dorcas and Marlene were long gone, probably halfway through a butterbeer by now. The sun was lower in the sky, painting the lake in colors that shimmered like oil on water.

James stood, parchment in hand, and began reworking the spell again. "Alright. Watch carefully this time. If we can chain the hex to a reflection charm, we might be able to make it bounce back if he tries to trace it."

"Like magical ping-pong," Peter said.

"I don't think that's a real term," Remus muttered.

"It is now," Sirius replied.

Rose laughed. "We could call it the Snapeback Curse."

"I love it," James said immediately.

"No," Lily said.

"Yes," Sirius said.

The spell-casting began again, this time with more enthusiasm. Wands flicked. Leaves danced. One exploded unexpectedly, and Peter ducked behind the tree with a yelp. Laughter burst out around them.

Rose was leaning forward, excited, her wand gripped tight. She loved this. Not the spells, not even the idea of outsmarting Snape -- just the feeling of being here. Being one of them.

The laughter kept rolling for a while longer, the sound of it echoing off the lake like birdsong. The grass was scattered with fallen leaves and discarded parchment. James was standing now, wand in one hand and the other shoved into his pocket as he looked down at his latest scribble.

"So if I cast the reflection charm first, and then follow it with a deflection sigil-"

"You're skipping the stabiliser," Rose warned, peering at the page. "The angle's off. You'll rebound it into your own face."

James shrugged. "Only if I mess it up."

"Which you do," Lily said.

"Occasionally," Sirius added with a smirk.

"Not helpful," James muttered, and began drawing the new charm into the air anyway. Pale lines glowed like chalk above his head. "Okay, watch this."

He moved quickly, the wand motions clean, deliberate. The reflection charm shimmered to life in front of him, like a ripple in the air. Then came the sigil -- spun outward like a web, hovering, pulsing faintly.

"Careful," Remus said, frowning now. "You're layering too fast. Let it settle first."

James ignored him. "It's fine. I've got it."

He added another charm, a small detonation hex he'd used before, meant only to trigger when the spell touched a physical object. It crackled slightly at the edges. That was new.

Rose shifted closer. "That doesn't look right."

James opened his mouth to respond but Sirius had already jumped in beside him, wand raised. "Let me try something."

"Padfoot-" Remus started.

Sirius cast without waiting. A ripple of silver burst from his wand, some kind of shimmering curse Rose didn't recognise. It collided midair with James's layered spell and held for a moment, suspended like a bubble between them.

Then the magic pulsed.

Hard.

The bubble twisted sharply, light bending at a strange angle. A faint hum began to grow, vibrating through the air like the low note of an organ.

Lily stood abruptly. "Stop. That's not normal."

"It's not breaking," James said, narrowing his eyes.

"That's the problem," Rose whispered. Her voice was tight.

Peter backed up several steps. "Er... maybe stop now?"

Sirius raised his wand. "I can break it-"

"No!" Rose and Remus both said at once.

The spell shimmered again, brighter this time. Light cracked down its center like lightning across a stormcloud. The hum deepened into a sharp whine.

"Right," Remus said quickly. "I'm going to get McGonagall."

He turned and ran toward the castle, robes flying.

James took a step forward. "It's fine, I'll just counter it-"

But as he moved, the bubble of magic shivered violently, as if reacting to his presence. A small arc of light shot out like a whip, slicing the air in front of him.

"James!" Lily grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

He stumbled, startled. Rose darted forward without thinking, raising her wand.

"Finite!"

The light flickered but didn't stop. It pulsed again, then burst outward in a ring that knocked them all back a few steps.

A few students near the lake had turned to look. Some sixth-years were pointing now, and whispers carried over the water.

"What the hell is it?" someone called.

"I think they broke something," another voice said.

The spell formation at the center of the clearing was no longer a single bubble. It had begun to stretch -- thin lines of light pulling outward, warping the space around them like heat over stone.

Sirius looked alarmed now. "That's not ours anymore. I don't know what it's doing."

"It's absorbing magic," Rose said quietly. "It's feeding off itself."

"How?" Lily asked.

James shook his head, pale. "We didn't design it to do that."

"You shouldn't have designed it at all," Lily snapped.

The shimmering strands of light had begun to twist, spiraling into a single sharp point in the air. The whine was louder now, almost painful.

Students were gathering in clusters. Hushed voices. A few more professors had appeared on the steps, though still too far to see clearly. McGonagall, at the very least, was striding toward them with her wand drawn.

"It's not stopping," Rose said. "It's trying to... open something."

"No one cast a portal spell," Sirius said.

"It doesn't have to be a portal spell," Rose replied. "It's reacting to all the magic we've done today. It's picking up layers. Compounding them."

"You're saying we overloaded it?" Peter asked.

"I'm saying we're not in control anymore."

Then, as if to prove her right, something snapped. A soundless crack rippled through the air, and where there had once been sunlight and shivering charm light, there was now something else entirely.

A slit.

Thin and vertical, a black gash in the air itself. It didn't look like magic. It looked like torn fabric.

Everyone went still.

It didn't belong.

"Don't touch it," Lily breathed.

"I wasn't going to," Sirius said, but he had taken half a step closer.

Rose didn't even realise she was moving until she was in front of them. "James, stop."

"I'm not going in," James said, eyes wide. "I just want to see-"

"No." She reached out to grab his sleeve. "Just wait for-"

The wind that rushed from the crack wasn't natural. It wasn't air. It was something colder, emptier. A vacuum, maybe, or a pull from somewhere deeper than the sky.

Rose stumbled back a step.

James caught her elbow. "Are you okay?"

But she wasn't listening. She was staring at the tear in space, its edges curling like burned parchment, dark and silver and wrong.

It was growing.

Slow at first -- almost unnoticeable -- but widening all the same. Not by their doing, not by anyone's will. The magic had taken on a life of its own. The spiral was spinning now, curling in the center like a whirlpool, and it was pulling.

Rose felt her hair lift from her shoulders. Leaves and parchment began sliding across the grass toward the rip.

"Back up," Lily said sharply. "Everyone, move back!"

The crowd that had gathered now numbered dozens. Some stood frozen. Others were backing away quickly.

Sirius threw a protective arm in front of Remus, who had returned with Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. The professors halted mid-step, both reacting instantly.

Flitwick raised his wand and shouted, "Protego Maxima!"

A shimmering wall bloomed across the clearing, but it flickered immediately, strained at the center.

McGonagall's eyes locked on the tear. She didn't speak. Her face was whiter than paper.

James had stepped toward it again, drawn by curiosity or maybe guilt. He was only a few feet from the crack now.

Rose moved to grab his arm. "James, don't be an idiot!"

"I'm not going in," he said. "I just want to see if we can-"

She reached for him.

He moved to shrug her hand off.

It was one of those meaningless little gestures between siblings -- the kind that happens dozens of times in a day, without thought. Except this time, James's shoulder bumped her just as the tear gave another pulse outward.

The wind roared.

And the world tore.

One moment, Rose's hand was outstretched.

The next, she was screaming.

She was yanked forward with terrifying speed, feet dragging across the grass. James shouted, lunging for her, but the pull was too strong. Her fingers slipped through his.

She tumbled forward, directly into the lightless slit. The moment her body touched it, the air bent around her.

She didn't fall. She vanished.

Gone.

Like she had never been there.

The crack gave one final flicker.

And then it snapped shut.

The wind died.

The parchment stopped blowing.

The sunlight returned.

Silence.

James stood frozen, arm still outstretched, hand trembling.

"Rose?" he whispered, even though there was nothing in front of him.

The grass was empty.

Sirius's face had drained of all color.

Lily was covering her mouth with both hands.

Peter looked as if he might be sick. His face a sickly white colour.

McGonagall stepped forward, wand still drawn. She moved to the spot where Rose had disappeared and knelt, brushing her hand over the grass like she expected to find something left behind.

There was nothing.

No scorch marks. No shimmer. No trace.

"She's gone," Remus said quietly.

James turned on him, shaking his head. "No. No, she's not. She just -- she got pulled in. She must be on the other side. We can get her back."

"James-"

"She's not gone!"

"She's gone, James..."

Chapter Text

The hospital wing was too bright.

The early evening sun had dropped behind the mountains, but enchanted sconces flickered along the curved stone walls, casting long golden shadows across the beds. The light didn't feel warm, though. It felt sharp, like it was exposing everything they didn't want to see.

James sat on the edge of the third cot from the door, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, hands buried in his hair. His skin was streaked with dirt, his robes ripped at the shoulder, and there was dried blood on his right knuckle from where he'd slammed his fist against the tree trunk by the lake. He hadn't said a word since they brought him inside.

Sirius paced the length of the room like a storm trapped in a box. His hands were fisted, jaw clenched, hair wild. He hadn't stopped moving since they left the clearing. Every time someone opened their mouth to speak, he turned away like the sound hurt.

Lily sat on a stool beside James, her eyes red. She hadn't cried -- not properly -- but there were tear tracks down her face and a damp handkerchief twisted in her fingers. She kept glancing at him, like she wanted to say something, but didn't know where to start.

Remus leaned against the far wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest. There were half-healed bruises on his hands, probably from trying to push through the crowd. His expression was locked in a neutral mask, but his eyes kept drifting toward the doors like he still expected her to walk through them.

Peter sat near the end of the row, small and quiet, knees drawn to his chest. He was shaking.

McGonagall entered first, brisk and pale. Her lips were pressed in a thin, bloodless line, and her wand was still clutched in her right hand like she hadn't realized she was holding it. Dumbledore followed a moment later, slower, older somehow than he'd looked even that morning. His eyes moved across the group, pausing just slightly longer on James.

Silence settled like a snowfall.

"There's no trace," McGonagall said finally, her voice clipped but uneven. "No magical residue, no burned spellwork, no ward breakage. It's as though she-"

She stopped herself. Cleared her throat.

"As though it never happened," Dumbledore finished for her, voice quiet. He stepped further into the room. "But we all know it did."

"She's not dead," James said, lifting his head. His voice was hoarse.

Lily turned toward him sharply. "No one said she was."

"Everyone's thinking it," he snapped, suddenly too loud in the stillness. "Everyone keeps looking at me like I killed her."

"No one thinks that," Lily whispered.

James looked away.

Sirius stopped pacing. "What was that? That thing in the air. The crack--whatever it was."

"A spontaneous rift," Dumbledore said. "At least, that's my current hypothesis. Caused by a collision of magical forces not meant to intertwine. The nature of the spells you were experimenting with--layered, experimental, occasionally unstable--could have created a fold in magical space. An anomaly."

"An accident," Peter whispered.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "A terrible one."

Remus finally spoke. "So... she's not dead."

"I do not believe she is," Dumbledore said carefully. "The magic reacted to her, not against her. It was a pull, not an explosion. There was no scream, no disintegration, no residual damage. It behaved like a doorway, not a curse."

"Then we open it again," James said, standing abruptly. "We do it again, we find the same spells, we cast them the same way. If it was a doorway, then we go through it."

"It's not that simple," McGonagall said. "None of you even remember the exact sequence."

"We'll figure it out!"

Lily stood too, gently placing a hand on his arm. "James, you haven't slept. You haven't eaten."

He pulled away from her.

"I'm not stopping. Don't you get it? She's fourteen. She's probably terrified. She needs me."

"She trusted you," Sirius muttered, barely audible.

James turned to him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sirius shook his head, eyes burning. "She was trying to pull you back. If you hadn't gone so close-"

"If you hadn't-"

"Enough," McGonagall snapped, and even Sirius fell silent. "This isn't helping anyone."

James's chest was rising and falling too fast. "He's blaming me."

"No one is blaming anyone," Dumbledore said softly. "You are children. Children who created something no adult has ever seen before. Children who lost someone they love. That is more than enough grief for a single day."

No one responded.

McGonagall looked like she wanted to say something more, but didn't. Instead, she stepped back and said stiffly, "The headmaster and I will continue researching. We'll notify your families and take precautions with the others who were present. You're dismissed for the evening."

She left before anyone could answer.

Dumbledore stayed for a beat longer. He turned his gaze on James. "I will do everything in my power to bring her back. I give you my word."

James didn't move. Didn't blink.

Dumbledore nodded once, then turned and followed McGonagall out the door.

The moment it clicked shut behind him, the silence closed back in.

For a long time, no one said a word.

Then, from the cot, James whispered, "She always followed us. Even when we didn't want her to. Even when we told her not to."

"She wanted to be like you," Remus said softly. "You know that."

James nodded slowly.

Lily touched her fingers to her lips, then to the space beside James on the bed.

"She should be here."

Sirius sank down to the floor, back against the wall, and dropped his head into his hands.

"She was the youngest of us," Peter said, almost too quietly to hear.

And that was the truth that none of them could shake.

The youngest. The one they should've protected.

And now she was gone

______

The Astronomy Tower was quiet at this hour.

The stars were out, scattered like spilled salt across a velvet sky. Wind whispered through the open arches, tugging at James's robes and ruffling his hair. He sat on the cold stone floor, knees drawn to his chest, back pressed against the wall beneath a crumbling gargoyle. The bottle beside him was half-empty, filched from Slughorn's private stock weeks ago. He hadn't planned to drink it. But here he was.

The door creaked open behind him, but he didn't look up.

A soft voice broke the silence. "I thought I'd find you here."

James didn't answer.

Regulus stepped out from the stairwell, wrapped in a thick dark cloak, collar turned up against the cold. He didn't speak right away. Just walked to the edge of the tower and leaned over, glancing out across the black lake. The moon was almost full, casting silver light across the grounds.

"Six months," he said after a while. "Feels longer."

James turned his face away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I know."

There was a pause. Then soft footsteps as Regulus came closer, stopping just beside him.

"You didn't come to class today."

James gave a hollow laugh. "Brilliant observation."

Regulus crouched down beside him. "They're worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

James didn't respond.

A few seconds passed in silence.

"I dreamed about her again," he muttered.

Regulus blinked. "Rose?"

James nodded. "She was standing by the lake. She looked exactly the same. Fourteen. Hair full of leaves. She waved at me like I'd just left the common room. Like no time had passed."

Regulus looked away. "You miss her."

"She was my sister," James snapped, voice suddenly sharp. "Of course I miss her."

"I didn't mean—"

"She was annoying and loud and smarter than she let on. She always wanted to be involved. Wouldn't leave us alone. Always eavesdropping, always sneaking off after us." James's voice cracked. "I didn't even tell her to stay back that day. I just let her come."

"She would've come anyway," Regulus said gently.

James wiped his face roughly with the sleeve of his jumper. "You didn't know her like I did. She was—she never let things go. She was stubborn. She always believed we'd fix it. That we'd come through."

"She believed in you," Regulus said.

That was the breaking point.

James pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. "I keep going back to that moment. Every night. Her reaching for me. My shoulder knocking into her. If I hadn't moved. If I'd just stayed still."

Regulus shifted closer. "James."

"I let go of her."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I let go."

Regulus reached for him, carefully, like he wasn't sure if James would pull away. He rested a hand on James's shoulder, thumb brushing the edge of his collarbone.

"You're not the only one who lost someone."

James finally looked at him.

Regulus's eyes were dark and steady. "We all cared about her. She was brilliant and infuriating and brave. She would've hexed me for saying this, but I liked her. She had fire."

James gave a choked laugh.

Regulus's hand stayed where it was. "But she's gone, James. It's time to stop tearing yourself apart over it."

"No."

"She's not coming back."

"You don't know that."

"It's been six months."

"So?"

"You haven't slept properly since. You're failing your classes. You're pushing away your friends. You sit in here every night, looking at the sky like it's going to give her back to you."

"I'm not going to pretend like she never existed," James snapped.

"No one is asking you to. But you're chasing ghosts. She wouldn't want this. She wouldn't want you to rot while you wait."

James stood up suddenly, eyes blazing. "Don't you dare tell me what she'd want."

Regulus rose too, slower. "I'm trying to help you."

"You're trying to bury her."

"I'm trying to let her rest."

The words hit like a blow.

James stared at him, jaw clenched, chest heaving.

Regulus took a step closer. "Please. Just... stop chasing the crack. Stop looking through books that aren't helping. Stop blaming yourself. Come back to us."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

James's voice cracked wide open. "Because if I stop looking, it means she really is gone."

Silence fell.

Regulus's face softened. "She's already gone."

James stared at him for a long time. Then his face hardened. "You sound like your brother."

Regulus flinched.

James picked up the bottle and flung it off the tower without hesitation. It hit the stone below with a sharp shatter.

"I should've known better," James said, turning toward the stairs.

Regulus reached for him. "James, wait."

"Don't."

"Please."

But James was already walking. Each step was furious, sharp against the stone. He didn't look back. Didn't slow down. The door slammed behind him, the sound echoing long after he'd gone.

Regulus stood alone in the cold, hands trembling.

He didn't chase him.

_______

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft orange glow over the sitting room. Outside, the wind rattled the windows, carrying the rustle of autumn leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. But inside, it was peaceful.

James sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire, little Harry perched on his lap. The baby was giggling, a drool-slicked fist waving in the air as James wiggled a stuffed Puffskein above his head.

"Got you, didn't I?" James said, swooping the toy in for a tickle attack. Harry shrieked with delight and grabbed at it with both hands.

Lily leaned in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, watching them with a smile. Her hair was tied up loosely, and there was a smudge of flour on her cheek from the half-finished pumpkin cake in the kitchen.

"You're going to spoil him," she said gently.

"I plan on it," James replied, lifting Harry into the air like he was flying. "He deserves to be spoiled. He's the bravest little bloke I know."

Harry squealed and waved his arms.

James brought him back down and cuddled him close, resting his chin lightly on the boy's messy head of black hair.

"Do you know what, Harry?" he said quietly. "One day, when you're older, I'm going to tell you all about your Aunt Rose. She was... brilliant. She used to call me 'Toe-rag' before your mum ever did. And she could hex someone sideways before they even realized they'd been insulted."

Lily chuckled softly. "That she could."

James glanced up at her, eyes gleaming with memory. "She made us all look like fools at chess. She never did her Transfiguration homework on time, but she could charm her way out of it every single time. And she always smelled like ink and peppermint."

He looked back at Harry, his voice quieter now. "You would've loved her. She would've loved you. She was funny and clever and drove me mad. She was mine."

Harry made a small noise and rested his head against James's chest.

James swallowed.

"I know Dumbledore doesn't want me telling you about her. Says it'll only make things harder. Says it's better to move on. But you deserve to know, Harry. You deserve to know where you came from."

He held the baby tighter for a moment.

Lily stepped closer, crouching beside them and brushing a kiss onto Harry's head. "She would've spoiled him worse than you do," she said. "I think he would've brought out the softest side of her."

"I think she would've taught him his first swear word," James added, smiling faintly.

Lily snorted. "Definitely."

They sat there in a quiet hush, warmth radiating from the fire and the small body between them.

James leaned back a little, shifting Harry into the crook of his arm. "Maybe... maybe she's out there somewhere. Maybe some piece of her is still watching."

Lily didn't answer, but her hand found his, fingers curling tight.

James smiled again, a little sad this time, but mostly full of love. "Happy Halloween, kiddo," he whispered.

There was a knock at the door.

James blinked and turned toward it. "That must be Peter," he said. "I told him to come round for cake if he wanted."

Lily stood up slowly. "Or Sirius. He said he might visit."

James nodded. He shifted Harry gently onto the blanket on the floor and stood up, stretching once before heading for the door.

Behind him, his wand lay on the arm of the couch, half-hidden beneath a folded blanket.

The knock came again.

Soft. Patient.

Lily picked Harry up and walked toward the hall, humming under her breath.

James reached for the doorknob.

And everything changed.

_________________________________

Hogwarts 1995

The Friday afternoon sun cast golden streaks across the grass as students spilled out of the castle, their voices lifting in laughter and idle chatter. The air held a crispness that hinted at the coming chill of November, but for now it was warm enough to laze outside and forget about O.W.L.s, detentions, and everything else for a while.

Harry emerged from the castle, his bag slung over one shoulder and a scowl tugging at his mouth.

"Detention again?" Ron asked, catching up with him near the steps.

Harry nodded wordlessly.

"With her?"

"Of course with her," he muttered. "Made me write lines again. Same as always."

Hermione, waiting just beyond the courtyard, raised an eyebrow. "Is your hand alright?"

Harry flexed it a little, wincing. "It's fine."

Ron shot a dark glance back toward the castle. "She's mad, that one. Completely mental. I say next time we all march in together and-"

"Ron," Hermione warned, but her eyes had the same sharpness. She looked at Harry. "You shouldn't be alone with her anymore. She's doing things that aren't... normal. Not even for her."

Harry didn't reply. He glanced toward the lake. The grounds were filled with students now, sprawled on blankets or clustered in small groups. He jerked his chin toward the far side. "Let's go sit down."

They made their way across the lawn, passing a few familiar faces. Dean and Seamus were kicking a Quaffle around. Luna Lovegood was sitting on the ground in the middle of the path, collecting oddly shaped rocks.

They reached a wide patch of grass under a towering beech tree. Harry dropped his bag and slumped down, back against the trunk.

Ron flopped next to him, picking a twig off the ground and starting to snap it into pieces. "Think we'll hear anything from the Order soon?"

Hermione hesitated. "I doubt it. They've been very quiet lately. Too quiet, actually."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I have a feeling something's going to happen. Soon."

Before Hermione could respond, a sudden burst of movement caught their attention. A group of second years dashed past them toward the far end of the lawn, their faces alight with excitement.

"What now?" Ron asked, craning his neck.

Another student passed by, calling, "Come see what the twins did!"

The three of them exchanged a look.

"Let's go," Harry said, already standing.

They pushed through the gathering crowd, weaving between clusters of gawking students until they broke into the open ring. And there, floating just a few feet above the ground, was something... wrong.

A shimmering crack hovered in the air like a rip in cloth. Its edges flickered with silver and black, curling slightly as if burned. It gave off a low hum, steady and unnerving.

Fred and George stood beside it, unusually pale.

"What is it?" Ron asked, staring.

Fred glanced at them. "We... don't know."

"We were just testing something," George added. "Nothing even that wild. Just spell chaining. We've been working on a charm to bounce hexes between wands--"

"And then this thing just... opened," Fred finished.

Hermione stepped closer, eyes locked on the crack. "It's not just a tear. It's--Merlin, it's like a dimensional fold. There's no magical signature that could come from this world alone."

Harry wasn't sure what any of that meant, but he didn't like the way the hair on his arms had risen.

The tear pulsed again, just a flicker, but enough to send a breeze sweeping outward. Some parchment scraps and leaves on the ground shifted toward it.

"We need a teacher," Hermione said quickly.

"Already went for them," George said. "Dean saw it first and ran straight to McGonagall."

The crowd around them had swelled to at least fifty students. Whispers were growing louder. Some people had started backing away. Others stood completely still, mesmerised.

Then it pulsed again.

This time the wind surged, more forceful. Several students gasped as the grass itself seemed to bend toward the tear.

Harry took a step forward, instincts flaring. Something in his chest twisted. He didn't know why, but his scar was beginning to ache.

"There!" Hermione pointed. "McGonagall!"

The professors arrived in a wave of urgency. Flitwick, McGonagall, and Remus came first, followed quickly by Madam Pomfrey.

McGonagall took one look and pulled her wand. "Step back! All of you!"

Flitwick flicked his wrist, summoning a wide barrier between the students and the crack. It shimmered blue for a moment, before rippling as the crack pulsed once more.

Harry stared into it. The center was spinning now -- a spiral forming deep within, as though the magic were coiling on itself.

"What is it doing?" Ron asked.

"I think it's pulling something in," Hermione whispered.

"No," Harry said. "It's pushing something out."

There was a sound then -- a high, whining tone, like pressure building in the air. And then, all at once, it cracked open.

A figure shot out of it, tumbling with force. They hit the ground hard, a mess of tangled limbs and torn robes.

Gasps erupted.

Hermione surged forward, but stopped when Madam Pomfrey raised a hand.

The figure groaned. A girl. Her hair was dark and long, tangled with leaves. She pushed herself up slightly, blinking against the light.

Harry stepped forward, heart pounding.

Her eyes found his.

And for a moment, she looked utterly relieved.

"James?" she breathed.

And then she collapsed.

"Get her to the hospital wing immediately," Madam Pomfrey barked, already moving to lift her.

McGonagall stood frozen for a second longer, eyes locked on the girl's face. Then she turned to Flitwick. "Disperse the crowd. Now."

Harry didn't move. His heart was thudding wildly. That girl--whoever she was--had looked at him like he was someone else.

Like she knew him.

And yet he was certain...

He had never seen her before in his life

Chapter Text

The world came back slowly.

The ceiling was white and unfamiliar, blurred at the edges. There was a scent of antiseptic herbs and something faintly metallic. The sheets beneath her hands were stiff and tucked too tightly, the air cool against her skin.

Rose blinked up at the ceiling and frowned.

Her head ached. Her limbs felt heavy and wrong, like she had been asleep too long. She shifted slightly and a stab of pain ran down her back. She winced.

"Easy now," came a voice nearby.

Rose turned her head toward the sound. Madam Pomfrey stood at her bedside, a tray in hand, a faint sheen of concern on her usually composed face.

"Where-where am I?" Rose rasped, voice hoarse.

"You're in the hospital wing," Pomfrey said gently. She moved to adjust the blanket around Rose's shoulders. "You took a nasty fall."

Rose blinked. She looked around, taking in the white walls, the rows of beds, the drawn curtains. It looked the same. Everything looked the same.

"I-I was just at the lake," she said slowly. "James was there. Sirius, Remus, Peter, Lily. I was right next to James."

Pomfrey didn't respond right away. She busied herself with pouring a measure of potion into a glass and handing it to her.

Rose stared at it, then looked up at her again.

"Where is he?" she asked. "Where's James?"

Pomfrey hesitated. "You've had a bit of a shock. I need you to stay still and let your body recover. That fall-"

"Where is he?" Rose pushed herself up on her elbows, ignoring the flare of pain across her ribs. "He was right there. Just a moment ago. I saw him."

Pomfrey's eyes softened. She reached out a hand. "Please lie back, Rose."

Rose stared at her like she had grown a second head. "Why are you looking at me like that? I was with him! We were outside! He told me not to do the spell that way, and I-I don't know, I tried to fix it, and everything just went black. But he was right there!"

"You need to calm down," Pomfrey said firmly, though her voice was still low. "You've had a very serious magical accident. You've been unconscious for nearly a full day."

"A day?" Rose's voice cracked. "No. That's not- no. It wasn't a day, it was seconds. I saw him. He was looking right at me."

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing. Pomfrey stepped in quickly.

"I need to find him," Rose said. "Please, Madam Pomfrey. Please. He'll be worried. He always panics when I get hit too hard."

Pomfrey reached out to steady her. "Rose, listen to me. You are safe. You're being taken care of. But you need rest. You're disoriented."

"I'm not disoriented," Rose snapped. Her eyes were beginning to sting. "I was outside, at Hogwarts, with my brother. We were-what time is it? What day is it?"

"I think it's best if you wait to speak with someone more senior before we-"

"No!" Rose gripped the edge of the bed. "Why won't you tell me where he is? Why are you looking at me like I'm mad?"

There was a long silence.

The door to the hospital wing opened quietly. Rose's head snapped up as Professor McGonagall stepped inside, her robes neat and pressed, her face unreadable.

She paused just inside the door, observing Rose carefully. Pomfrey straightened.

"Minerva," she said quietly. "She's awake."

McGonagall nodded once and stepped closer. Her gaze moved over Rose, not unkindly, but with a caution Rose couldn't quite understand.

"Miss Potter," McGonagall said.

Rose blinked at her. "Professor."

"I am very glad to see you awake."

Rose clutched the blanket around her. "Maybe you can explain to me what's going on. Because Madam Pomfrey's acting like I'm cracked, and I just want to know where my brother is."

McGonagall did not answer at first. She took the seat Pomfrey had vacated and folded her hands in her lap.

"Let's begin with something simple," she said. "You mentioned a spell mishap. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I told you already," Rose said. "We were by the lake. James was showing off, and Padfoot tried to do this charm he read about that was meant to echo sound around someone's head. Something went wrong... Something appeared in the air, Moony ran for help, I was trying to pull my broker back. Then I was here."

McGonagall's expression remained carefully blank. "Who else was with you?"

"Lily and Peter," she said. "You know, the usual. We were going to go inside soon. It was almost curfew."

McGonagall nodded, as if ticking something off in her mind. "Can you tell me the date?"

Rose hesitated, frowning. "October thirtieth. Nineteen seventy-nine."

McGonagall didn't move.

"And the time?" she asked softly.

Rose glanced toward the window, trying to guess. "Late afternoon, probably. We were outside after class. Double potions, I think."

McGonagall's eyes dropped to her lap. She was quiet for a long moment.

Rose leaned forward. "What is going on? I feel like I'm in a bad dream."

McGonagall looked up again. "What is the last thing you remember before the light?"

"I told you," Rose said, a little sharply. "The spell. We were trying to stop James and Sirius from doing anything else but they, as usual, wouldn't listen. Then I tried to pull james back."

There was a subtle tension around McGonagall's eyes. She sat back slightly, as if reassessing.

"Rose," she said gently. "I need you to stay calm. You've experienced something very rare. And very serious."

Rose's jaw clenched. "You keep saying that. But no one is telling me anything. What happened to James? Where is he?"

"I can't answer that right now," McGonagall said.

"Why not?" Her voice rose in pitch. "Why are you all acting like you don't know who I am? Or where I've been? I'm telling you I was with him just a minute ago. What the hell happened while I was unconscious!"

"You need rest. This is a lot to process."

"Then help me process it!" she snapped. "I don't understand why everyone's acting like I'm not making sense. Just let me see him. Please."

McGonagall stood slowly. "I'm going to speak with the headmaster. He will decide what happens next."

Rose stood too, although she swayed slightly. "Then I'll talk to him myself."

"I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment."

"Why not?" she demanded. "He'll understand. He always listens to me."

McGonagall hesitated. Something passed behind her eyes -- a flicker of sadness? Regret?

"You must stay here," she said finally. "Madam Pomfrey will continue your care. I will return shortly."

"No," Rose said, her voice cracking. "Please. Don't leave. I need answers. Please."

McGonagall paused at the door.

"I know this is difficult," she said without turning. "But I promise you, we will explain everything. In time."

Then she left, the door shutting softly behind her.

Rose stood frozen in place, chest heaving, hands curled into fists.

Everything had felt so normal. She could still hear James laughing in her memory, could still feel the pull of magic between them. But no one was saying anything. No one would tell her what was going on.

And worst of all... something in Madam Pomfrey's face, and in the way McGonagall avoided her gaze, made her start to doubt everything.

She sank back onto the bed slowly, numb.

Outside, the wind howled through the cracks in the stone.

Minerva McGonagall stepped out of the hospital wing, the heavy door shutting quietly behind her. She stood in the corridor for a moment, her hands folded tightly in front of her, her expression unreadable.

The lamps lining the walls flickered gently, casting long shadows across the stone. It was late now, nearly midnight. Most of the students were asleep in their dormitories. The castle was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of movement from a wandering portrait or the soft creaks in the old stone.

She started walking, heels clicking softly on the floor, her pace even. But inside, her thoughts were anything but calm.

Rose Potter. Alive.

She had said it aloud twice already this evening and still barely believed it.

A girl who had vanished over fifteen years ago — in front of dozens of witnesses, no less. The Marauders had never been the same after that day. James had torn apart the library and nearly burned down the Charms corridor trying to find a way to reverse whatever had happened. Sirius had gone quiet, reckless. Remus had withdrawn. Peter — well, Peter had done whatever James told him to do, as always.

She remembered standing at the edge of that clearing, seeing only grass where Rose had once stood, listening to James scream her name into the empty air. Minerva had been the one to write to Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. She had been the one to tell them that their daughter was gone.

And now, the girl was back. Unaged. Confused. And asking for a brother who had been dead for over a decade.

She reached the stairs and descended carefully, holding the railing a little tighter than usual. She didn't know what they were supposed to do. The Order knew. She'd informed them as soon as Rose had been stabilized and her identity confirmed. Dumbledore had been silent on the other end of the Floo, staring into the fire for a long time before saying only, "Keep her safe. Say nothing until I return."

But keep her safe from what? From whom? The Ministry? The public? From the truth?

She shook her head sharply. It wasn't her place to decide. Not alone.

Minerva turned the corner toward her office when a voice rang out, sharp and smug in the stillness.

"Professor McGonagall."

She stopped, inwardly cursing her luck, and turned to see Dolores Umbridge approaching from the corridor on the left. The pink cardigan looked particularly garish against the dim candlelight.

"Yes, Professor Umbridge?" McGonagall said coolly.

"I was just on my way back from a surprise patrol. Imagine my curiosity when I passed the hospital wing and noticed the lights still on." Her smile was tight and artificial. "I thought perhaps I might inquire."

McGonagall kept her expression neutral. "Madam Pomfrey often works late when students are recovering from injury."

Umbridge's eyes gleamed. "Yes, well. There was some rather... vivid gossip among the portraits. Something about a girl being brought in last night, badly hurt. Some even claim she fell out of the sky."

McGonagall's voice was calm. "A magical accident. Highly unusual, but not unheard of. She's not a student here, simply someone who became caught in the wards during a, ah, surge."

Umbridge's smile faltered for half a second before snapping back into place. "I see. Still, I should be informed of such things as acting Headmistress."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed, just slightly. "Of course. I was going to send word once we had more information. Madam Pomfrey and I were focused on stabilizing the young woman."

"And who is she?" Umbridge asked, far too quickly. "Surely you've taken her name?"

"She was unconscious for most of the day. We've only just begun questioning. Now, if you'll excuse me."

She stepped past Umbridge without waiting for a reply, lips pressed tightly together. The lie was flimsy, and they both knew it, but Umbridge had nothing concrete. For now, that would have to do.

She was nearly to her office when more footsteps echoed down the corridor. She recognized the rhythm of them before she even turned.

"Professor McGonagall!"

She turned to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione jogging up behind her. Harry looked grim and determined. Ron was pale. Hermione's eyes were wide.

"What is going on?" Harry demanded. "Who was that girl? She's not a student here."

McGonagall straightened, folding her hands once more. "You three should be in your dormitories."

"She called me James," Harry said, voice tighter now. "She looked straight at me and called me James. What the hell is going on?"

Hermione stepped in quickly. "Please, Professor. She looked hurt. And Fred and George looked terrified."

McGonagall hesitated. She looked at Harry, really looked at him. Lily's eyes in James's face. She had no idea how she was supposed to explain this to him. Not yet. Not until they knew what had happened and what might happen next.

"I am going to speak to the Order of the Phoenix," she said at last. "That is where I am headed now. I have told them what I know. We will decide what to do next."

Harry frowned. "So she is one of you?"

"She is someone very important," McGonagall said carefully. "And someone who has been gone a long time."

"But why did she call me James?" he pressed.

She glanced away for a moment. "That is not something I can explain yet. I am asking you, all three of you, to trust me and not go looking into this on your own."

Ron looked uncertain. Hermione opened her mouth like she wanted to argue.

Harry looked furious. "She knew me. Or she thought she did. And you expect me not to ask questions?"

"I expect you to let me do my job," McGonagall said sharply. "Please. Give us time."

She reached her office door, placed a hand on the wood, and turned back to them one last time.

"I promise you, Mr. Potter. You will have answers. But not tonight."

With that, she stepped inside and shut the door gently behind her.

The click of the lock echoed in the corridor.

Harry stood frozen, staring at the door.

"She knows something," he muttered.

Hermione touched his arm. "Of course she does. But... maybe we should give her a day. Just one."

Ron didn't say anything. His face was pale, his jaw tight.

Harry clenched his fists. "Fine. One day."

Behind the door, McGonagall stood still for a long time before lighting the Floo.

The drawing room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was unusually full and unusually loud.

Chairs scraped, voices overlapped, and the fire flared angrily in the hearth as arguments broke out across the long, dusty table. Tonks sat near the window, fidgeting with her hair and glancing nervously between the shouting. Arthur Weasley had removed his glasses and was cleaning them for the third time, brow deeply furrowed. Molly hovered behind him, pale-faced, arms crossed in tight restraint. Snape leaned in the corner, arms folded and gaze fixed on nothing at all.

At the center of it all, Remus Lupin stood hunched over the table, looking both stunned and unsteady. Sirius paced behind him, his hands pulling repeatedly through his hair, eyes wide and wild in a way no one had seen in a long time.

"She's alive," Remus was saying, voice low but urgent. "Albus, she's alive. Are you really going to sit there and do nothing?"

"I have done nothing of the sort," Dumbledore said evenly, though his eyes were tight behind his glasses. "Until we understand what happened-"

"She's basically my sister," Sirius snapped. "James's sister. Our Rose. That's not something you debate in a committee meeting. That's something you act on."

"She might be dangerous," Snape muttered, not looking up.

Sirius whirled. "Say that again, I dare you."

Snape gave him a thin, sharp smile but said nothing else.

Before anyone could interject, green flames roared in the fireplace. McGonagall stepped out, brushing soot from her cloak. The moment she straightened, Remus and Sirius were on her, voices raised in a tangled, overlapping storm.

"Is she awake?"

"Can we see her?"

"Did she say anything-"

"Where is she now?"

McGonagall held up both hands. "Stop. Please. One at a time."

Sirius looked like he might shake her if she didn't speak fast enough. "Minerva. Please. Is she alright?"

McGonagall's expression softened just a fraction. "She woke up late this evening. Madam Pomfrey has been treating her and says she's physically stable. No visible injuries that suggest lasting harm. But she's confused."

"Confused how?" Remus asked, voice tight.

"She doesn't understand where she is. Or when she is. She kept asking for James. Demanding to know where he went. She insists they were just outside. That it was only a few spells gone wrong."

Sirius inhaled sharply and dropped into the nearest chair.

McGonagall continued, her voice low. "When I asked her what day she thought it was, she said it was spring. 1976. She believes she's fourteen."

A hush fell over the room.

"She hasn't aged a day," she added. "She looks exactly as she did the day she vanished."

Tonks whispered, "Merlin."

Arthur finally broke the silence. "How? How is that possible?"

"That's what we need to figure out," McGonagall said. "But we need to be extremely cautious."

"She's not a threat," Sirius said, voice raw. "She's Rose."

"We don't know what she's been through," McGonagall said gently. "Or what she may have been exposed to. She's frightened. She doesn't remember anything past that afternoon."

"She still thinks James is alive," Remus said, hollow.

McGonagall nodded. "And the others too, I think. She mentioned all of you."

Dumbledore folded his hands. "We must be very careful what we reveal to her. This kind of temporal dislocation is not just magical. It's traumatic. If we overwhelm her too quickly, she could panic. Or worse."

"She's already panicking," Sirius said. "What she needs is us."

"You can't see her yet," McGonagall said firmly. "Not until she's grounded. You'll only confuse her further. She asked to see Dumbledore. I told her he wasn't available. She didn't press, but I think she knows something isn't right."

"She'll figure it out eventually," Remus said quietly. "And when she does, it'll break her."

Molly, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "But what do we do with her, then? She's alive, yes, but what happens now? We can't exactly hand her over to the Ministry."

"No," Dumbledore said sharply. "We say nothing to the Ministry. Not yet."

"But they'll find out eventually," Arthur said. "If not from us, then from the students. Someone saw her."

"Only a few," McGonagall said. "Fred and George Weasley were there. Harry, Ron, and Hermione as well, though they don't know anything yet. They saw her fall through the tear, but they don't know who she is. Only that she called Harry 'James.'"

"Called him James," Sirius echoed, staring at the fire. "She thought he was James."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "That's likely how she'll see him for a while."

Remus was still staring at McGonagall. "You said she's alright. But... mentally?"

"She's frightened. She asked questions we couldn't answer. Got upset when I didn't tell her where James was. I believe she thinks this is some elaborate prank, or a mistake. She's starting to doubt herself."

"We can't leave her in the hospital wing forever," Tonks pointed out gently.

"No," Dumbledore agreed. "She can't stay at Hogwarts."

"Why not?" Sirius snapped.

"Because every Ministry liaison is crawling over the school. Dolores Umbridge is already sniffing around, demanding to know who Rose is and why she was admitted. We told her it was a magical accident, but she doesn't believe us. If she finds out the truth-"

"She'll drag Rose to the Department of Mysteries and let them rip her apart," Snape said, voice flat.

"Exactly," Dumbledore said. "Which is why I propose we move her here. As soon as she's stable."

Remus looked at Sirius, who gave a tight nod.

"We tell her the truth," Sirius said. "Slowly. But we do it here. Not there."

"What about Harry?" Arthur asked. "He's involved now, whether we want him to be or not."

Dumbledore looked tired. "We tell him only that she is someone important from the past. That's all, for now. The full truth can wait until she's ready."

"He deserves to know," Sirius said, voice shaking.

"And he will. When Rose is ready."

There was a long silence.

Then McGonagall said, "I'll speak with Poppy. If Rose is steady by morning, I'll bring her here myself."

"She'll want answers," Remus said. "And I don't know how we're supposed to give them to her."

Sirius leaned forward. "We start with this. We tell her... she came home."

Dumbledore gave a single, solemn nod.

"Yes," he said. "We start there."

Chapter Text

The sun poured pale gold through the tall windows of the hospital wing. Rose sat upright on the edge of the bed, arms locked around her knees, jaw tight. She had not slept, not really. Every time her eyes had closed, she had snapped awake again, convinced she heard James's voice outside, or Sirius laughing down the corridor.

But no one came.

Madam Pomfrey had fussed over her throughout the night, checking her temperature, her pulse, murmuring reassurances that meant nothing. Rose had asked where her brother was, where her friends had gone, and received only clipped words in return. "Rest, Miss Potter. You must rest."

Now it was morning, and Rose's patience was gone.

She slid off the mattress and reached for her shoes, ignoring the protest in her muscles. She didn't care if Pomfrey tried to stop her — she would find James herself if no one else would. He had been right there. She remembered his hand slipping through hers, his voice shouting her name. He wouldn't just leave her.

The door opened before she could tie her laces.

Professor McGonagall stepped inside. She looked more tired than Rose had ever seen her, her hair pinned back hastily, deep shadows beneath her eyes.

"Professor," Rose said sharply. "Where's James? I want to see him. I know he's here, I heard him. Why won't anyone tell me?"

McGonagall's expression flickered, but she schooled it quickly. "Come with me, Miss Potter."

Rose's stomach twisted. "So you do know something. You've been hiding him from me."

"I'll explain in due course," McGonagall said, her tone clipped but not unkind. "For now, please. Come."

Rose hesitated, glaring. But McGonagall rarely lied. If she said she would explain later, she probably meant it. With a huff, Rose followed.

They walked in silence down the corridors. Rose kept demanding answers — why everyone was acting so strangely, why people looked at her as if she were a ghost — but McGonagall refused to respond.

At last, they reached her office.

"Inside," McGonagall said.

Rose obeyed, confused, until McGonagall crossed to the fireplace and threw in a pinch of Floo powder. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

The flames whooshed green.

Rose stopped dead. "Why are we Flooing? Why not just fetch James? He should be right here!"

"Inside," McGonagall repeated. Her tone brooked no argument.

Rose's pulse thudded. She didn't like it. She didn't like any of this. But the fire roared, and with a sharp shove, McGonagall nudged her toward it.

Rose stumbled into the green blaze.

She spun out into a dark hallway that smelled faintly of dust and smoke. The walls were lined with crooked portraits, and the floorboards creaked under her shoes. It was gloomy, oppressive, and entirely unfamiliar.

And waiting there, standing straight-backed near the stairwell, was Albus Dumbledore.

Rose nearly cried in relief. "Professor! Finally. Thank Merlin. Something's wrong, no one will tell me anything, and James—"

"Rose," Dumbledore said gently. His voice was exactly as she remembered, warm and calm. "I know you are frightened. You have my word, you are safe here."

"Safe?" Rose scoffed. "Of course I'm safe, but where's my brother? Where's Sirius? You were supposed to be meeting with Slughorn yesterday, remember? And then the spells—"

Her words tumbled over each other. Dumbledore stepped forward and guided her toward a chair in the dim hall.

"You've been through a shock," he said softly. "Drink this."

He produced a small goblet. The liquid inside was pale and faintly sweet. Rose sniffed suspiciously.

"What is it?"

"Merely something to steady your nerves."

Her throat was dry, and she hadn't realized how much her hands shook until she tried to hold the cup steady. With a muttered thanks, she drank. The cool potion slid down her throat and left her body warm. Within seconds, the frantic edge of her panic dulled.

"Better?" Dumbledore asked.

Rose nodded reluctantly.

"Good. There are friends waiting to see you. People who care for you very much."

"James?"

His pause was too long.

"Not James. But people who love you still."

Rose's suspicion flared, but before she could protest, Dumbledore opened a door and gestured her inside.

The room beyond was smaller, lit by a single fire in the grate. Two figures stood waiting. At first, Rose blinked in confusion — then recognition hit like lightning.

Sirius Black.

Remus Lupin.

"Merlin, finally!" she exclaimed, breaking into a grin. "You're alright. I thought maybe you got stuck with Pomfrey after running for help. And—"

She stopped, her grin faltering.

Something was wrong.

Sirius and Remus were older. Much older. Their faces were lined, their eyes shadowed, their bodies taller and broader than the boys she had left under the beech tree.

Rose's breath caught. "What the hell happened to you two?"

Sirius flinched, but didn't speak.

Rose stepped forward, frowning. "No, don't tell me. Snape caught you, didn't he? He finally got clever, slipped you some curse. A bloody aging hex! I told you to be careful with him." She jabbed a finger at Sirius. "You're always reckless. And you—" She turned to Remus. "Why didn't you stop him?"

Neither smiled.

Her stomach dropped. "This... isn't a joke, is it?"

"Rose," Remus said quietly. "Please. Sit down."

Something in his voice — gentle, cautious, trembling — made her knees weak. She sat.

Sirius hovered, tense, his jaw tight. He looked like he wanted to reach for her, but couldn't.

Rose stared at them both, desperate. "Tell me what's going on. Where's James? Why are you—"

Dumbledore's voice interrupted from behind. "I will leave you together."

Rose twisted in her chair, alarm rising. "Don't you dare leave me! Not until someone explains what is happening!"

But he was already at the door. "You are safe, Rose. Listen to them."

The latch clicked.

Rose was alone with Sirius and Remus.

For a long moment, none of them spoke.

Then Sirius exhaled and sat opposite her. He leaned forward, eyes blazing and wet. "It's you. It's really you."

"Of course it's me," Rose snapped, though her voice shook. "Why wouldn't it be me?"

Remus's throat worked as if swallowing glass. "Because you've been gone, Rose. You've been gone for a very long time."

Meanwhile, outside the room, Dumbledore stepped back into the hall where the rest of the Order lingered.

Molly sat rigidly on the edge of a chair, hands twisted in her lap. Arthur stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder. Tonks and Kingsley leaned against the wall, quiet, watchful. Snape still occupied the far corner, unreadable.

"Well?" Molly asked, her voice taut. "How is she?"

Dumbledore smoothed his beard. "Confused. Very confused. But she is safe. The Calming Draught will give her the clarity she needs to listen."

"And does she know?" Arthur pressed. "That it's been years?"

"Not yet. Sirius and Remus are beginning the conversation."

Tonks shifted uneasily. "That's going to crush her."

"Yes," Dumbledore admitted softly. "But they deserve to speak with her first. They knew her best."

Snape's voice cut through the quiet. "And what happens when she refuses to believe them? Or worse, when she does believe them? She is a Potter. She will be reckless, impulsive, determined to throw herself into danger."

Molly rounded on him. "She's a girl who's been lost for years! Have some compassion, Severus."

"Compassion will not protect her from the Ministry," Snape said coldly. "Or from the Dark Lord, if word spreads."

Dumbledore raised a hand. "Enough. For now, we let her speak with her friends. We give her time to process what has happened. Then, and only then, do we decide how to proceed."

He looked back at the closed door, his blue eyes unusually heavy.

"Rose Potter has returned to us," he said quietly. "But what we do next may decide whether that is a blessing... or a curse."

Rose sat stiffly on the edge of the armchair, hands twisted together in her lap. Her pulse hammered in her ears. Sirius and Remus looked wrong, impossibly wrong, and it made her skin crawl.

"You're scaring me," she said finally, her voice trembling. "Just... tell me what's going on. Please."

Sirius ran a hand through his dark hair. It was longer, tangled, streaked faintly with gray. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. "I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning usually helps," Rose snapped, her nerves raw. "James was right there. You were right there. Then something went wrong, and now suddenly you look like you've aged twenty years. Tell me I'm dreaming. Tell me this is some twisted prank."

Remus's voice was gentle. "It isn't a prank, Rose."

"Then what?" she demanded.

Remus exchanged a look with Sirius. His face was scarred — old scars, deep ones that hadn't been there yesterday. Rose swallowed hard.

"Rose," Remus said carefully, "the day by the lake... the crack in the air... you didn't stumble, or faint. You vanished."

"I know I vanished," she said. "I was pulled in. But then I came right back. Hours later, maybe. I was in the hospital wing. You were supposed to come get me. James—"

Her voice broke. She pressed her hands against her eyes. "Where is James?"

Sirius made a sound like a choked laugh, except it wasn't laughter at all. It was pain.

"You've been gone for fifteen years," he said.

Rose's hands dropped. "What?"

"You didn't come back the same day. Not even the same year. You disappeared when we were sixteen. And you've only just returned."

Rose stared at him, waiting for the punchline. None came.

"That's—no. No, that's impossible." She stood sharply, shaking her head. "Fifteen years? You're insane. I saw you yesterday! You're trying to—this is some elaborate test, isn't it? Dumbledore put you up to it."

"Rose," Sirius said, his voice raw, "look at me. Do I look like I'm sixteen?"

She did. And once she looked properly, she couldn't stop. The lines carved into his face. The exhaustion in his eyes. The way he carried himself, heavier somehow.

Her breath hitched. "Someone cursed you."

"No," Remus said softly. "This is time."

"Shut up," she whispered.

"Rose—"

"Shut up!"

Her fists clenched at her sides. "You expect me to believe I've... what? Jumped forward through time? That I've been gone fifteen years? That's ridiculous."

Sirius swallowed. "I thought I'd never see you again. I thought you were dead."

The words hit her like a physical blow.

She backed away, shaking her head violently. "Don't. Don't say that."

"Rose," Remus said carefully, "we buried empty ground for you. James never forgave himself. We—none of us—" He faltered, his voice breaking.

Rose froze.

"James," she whispered. "Take me to him. Right now. If I've been gone that long, he'll be worried sick. He'll want to see me."

The silence that followed was unbearable.

"Take me to my brother!" she shouted.

Sirius's face crumpled.

"He's gone, Rose," he said, voice cracking. "James is dead."

The world tilted.

Her knees buckled, and she staggered backward, slamming into the wall. "No. No, you're lying."

"It's true," Remus said gently, though his own eyes glistened. "James and Lily. They were killed."

Her heart stopped.

"By who?" she whispered.

"Voldemort," Sirius spat, the name venom on his tongue.

Rose laughed, high and broken. "That's not funny. That's not funny!"

"It isn't a joke," Sirius said hoarsely. "I was there. I held Harry after it happened. Your nephew."

Rose blinked, uncomprehending. "My... what?"

"Harry," Remus said softly. "James's son. Yours too, in a way. He's at Hogwarts. He saw you yesterday."

Her head spun. She clutched at the wall for balance. "No. No. He—James and Lily weren't even together. This doesn't make sense."

"I wish it didn't," Sirius muttered.

Rose's hands flew to her temples. "Stop it. Stop saying these things. You're lying. James isn't—he can't be—"

Tears blurred her vision. She stumbled forward, grabbing Sirius's arm desperately. "Take me to him. Please. Please, Sirius, I need to see him. Tell me this isn't real."

Sirius's arms wrapped around her before she could collapse. He held her tightly against his chest. His body shook with silent sobs.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I'm so sorry, Rose."

Her tears broke loose then, hot and furious. She beat her fists against his chest. "No! I want him back! Bring him back!"

Sirius only held her tighter. His own tears dripped into her hair.

Remus hovered close, his expression carved in grief. At last, when Rose's cries turned into ragged gasps, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small vial.

"Rose," he murmured, crouching beside her where she clung to Sirius. "This will help you sleep. You need rest. Please."

She shook her head frantically. "No! I don't want to sleep, I want James!"

"I know," Remus whispered, his voice trembling. "I know you do. But you need to rest first. Let us take care of you."

Sirius shifted, rocking her slightly as though she were still the girl who trailed after them through Hogwarts. "It's alright, Rosie. We've got you. Just let Moony help, yeah?"

Her body quaked with sobs, but she nodded weakly.

Remus uncorked the vial and pressed it gently to her lips. She drank without tasting.

The potion worked quickly. Her limbs grew heavy, her tears slowing.

"I'll see him when I wake up," she mumbled against Sirius's chest. "He'll be there. He has to be."

Sirius's hand cupped the back of her head. His throat worked, but no words came.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Moments later, Rose slept, still curled in Sirius's arms, her cheeks wet with tears.

Sirius bent his head, pressing his lips to her hair. His own tears traced silently down his face.

Remus sat back heavily in his chair, covering his mouth with one hand. He closed his eyes, fighting for control, because if he broke now, there would be no one left to hold the pieces together.

The fire crackled softly. The only sound left was Rose's uneven breathing, fading into dreamless sleep.