Note: This manuscript was found on a shelf in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. It has been released to the wizarding world for both a source of entertainment and as a cautionary tale. The letter bellow was found tucked inside the first few pages.

Dear reader,

I (and a few others) have been asked by the current Headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall, to write down an account of our adventures in the year before Lord Voldermort was finally destroyed. In order to commemorate the tenth anniversary of this event, of course.

I was at first reluctent to do this, mainly because Professor McGonagall has given me a good number of detentions over the years, but also because I am not at all proud of what I became in that last year.

But today, after stepping into my tiny Auror office, and viewing the enormous pile of paperwork in my in-tray, I have decided that perhaps it is time to jot down my story. I'm sure my boss, , will not object. Indeed, he himself is holed up in his cubicle, writing his memoirs. I dare say that they shall sell many more copies than my humble narrative, but what can you do? Some people just have all the bloody luck in the world.

Oh dear, that pile of paperwork is looming most dreadfully. I reckon I'll start nine years before I'm supposed too, just to put of responsibility. Anyway, we'll start when I was eleven and Harry Potter was about nine.

Good luck,

Rosie Weasely (the first, of course)

Hogwarts. The name alone sent tingling shivers of excitement up and down my spine. Finally, a place where I would no longer be considered a freak. Ever since I had received my owl, telling me that I had been accepted into "Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", I had been a throbbing ball of nerves and anticipation. What will the school look like? Will the teachers be nice? What about the students?

"Rose!"

Tearing myself away from my own thoughts, I looked up into worried blue eyes of my aunt.

"Rose, have you been listening to a single word of what I've been saying?"

What do you think? The words trembled for a moment on the tip of my tongue, before natural survival instinct snatched them away. Now might not be the right time for being saucy.

"Yes, Aunt Ellie." I said, trying to look dutiful and innocent.

Acting had never been my specialty, and I could see myaunt's eyes narrow in suspicion.

The problem, I reflected, wasmy bloody stupid face. If I'd been born with round, rosy cheeks, large blue eyes, and pretty blond curls, it would've been a different matter. But Fate seemed to have had a nasty sense of humor where I was concerned, and had given me a sharp, thin face, slightly wavy and definitely messy black hair, eyebrows that seemed naturally inclined to scowl, and eyes that were dark and haughty. All in all, I looked about as innocent as a sheepish bull, standing in a wrecked china shop. Eleven years worth of trouble making and mischief didn't help to improve my case.

"Alright," said my aunt, showing unexpected cunning "What was the last thing that I told you?"

I opened my mouth and then paused. Lying was all very well, but as far as I could tell there was no way to either lie or squirm my way out this predicament. I opted for the truth.

"I haven't the foggiest idea. What was the last thing that you told me?"

Aunt Ellie sighed in exasperation, while behind her my two oldest cousins, named Susan and Ralph, snickered into their hands. I stuck out my tongue at them, purely in retaliation you understand. Unfortunately, my aunt saw me.

"Rose, don't be rude. Ralph! Susan! It's impolite to make fun of your cousin. Go help your father and Jenny get the trunks out of the car. No, not you, Rosie. I want to talk to you."

I stayed, watching my two cousins scamper off in the direction of our battered old car. I could just make out the figures of my Uncle John, and my second-youngest (and favorite) cousin, Jenny. Jenny, like Ralph and Susan, had inherited my aunt's fair looks.

Apparently my mother (Aunt Ellie's sister) had been fair of face, as well. I'd never known her, since she had died of depression, only a few months after bringing me into the world. Never knew my dad, either, whoever he was. The lousy git had run out on my mum, leaving her pregnant and alone in the world. That had brought on the depression, according to my uncle. My dad had as good as murdered her. One day I would find him, and pay him back for that.

But now my aunt was talking to me, and I had to listen, or else risk getting in trouble again.

"Rosie, love, we've been through this before, I know, but it's important that you remember. You're going to Hogwarts in a few hours, just like your mum, and you need to make a fresh start. No more Incidents," she said.

The Incidents. What could I say? They'd been happening almost all my life, ever since I had started school. The fist one had happened on my very first day of school, in fact. Standing there, outside King's Cross station, six years later, I couldn't even remember what I had done or said that had been wrong. The only thing I could remember before the Incident itself happened was the freckled face of the curly haired boy, looming above me.

Freak.

Baby.

And the worst insult. The one that none of my cousins ever dared mention, even when we were fighting. My shame at what I was and what I had been born to be. The B-word.

And then the anger, swelling up through me, clouding my mind with a thick red fog.

How dare he? How dare he? I can't control it; I can't keep it in...

The explosion. The screams. A teacher's face, pale against the sky. And every one staring at me. Something wet on my hands and on my face.

What have I done? What have I done? Oh God...

Even the memory of it threatened to swamp my mind. I forced myself to focus on the kind, warm face of my aunt. I wouldn't cry, not anymore. I tilted my chin up and tried to look proud and self-assured.

But Aunt Ellie had known me all my life and she could see through my act. She put a comforting arm around me.

"I know that you act like you don't care, Rosie," she said softly "But I know that it hurts you, deep inside. Doesn't it?"

I spun out of her embrace and crossed my arms defiantly, letting my stance serve as an answer to her question.

"It's not your fault, Rosie, darling. All those things that you've done, you did by accident."

Really? How do I really know for sure? I was angry. No, not just angry: I was bloody furious. I wanted them to suffer.

My aunt pulled out my official Hogwarts letter from her coat pocket. Tucked inside was a small note, written in an elegant script, on the same kind of yellowed parchment. She waved the letter under my nose.

"Professor Dumbledore understands," she told me "He can help you, Rosie."

I glared darkly at the note in her fist. School? Fine. Teachers? Fine. Magic? Brilliant. Another long string of psychiatry sessions? No. Tests and exercises? No. People telling me that it's all for "my own good"? NO!

"I don't need his help. I'm getting better at controlling it," I lied "It's loads easier now. No more Incidents, I promise. Honestly, Aunt Ellie."

Aunt Ellie looked uncertain for a moment, but my uncle and my cousins had successfully managed to pry my two trunks from the small luggage space left in our car, and were calling to us to hurry up. In Jenny's arms was the cage which held my barn owl, Merlin.

"It's almost twelve o'clock," yelled my Uncle John "The train will leave soon."

Aunt Ellie gave my arm a brief squeeze, before bustling off to deal with my youngest cousin, James, who had just woken up and burst into tears.

"You'll be fine, Rosie," she whispered to me.

I slouched after her, repeating the words over and over again, like a mantra.

I'll be fine.

It's much easier now.

I'll be fine.

I can control it.

But I knew, deep in my heart, that I was lying.