Figlina Rosa Chronicles
Book 1: Figlina Rosa et Fons Juventatis
Chapter 1: Survivor
The inhabitants of Wisteria Walk, Little Whinging, Surrey were quite fond of gossiping. One might even be so bold as to declare it their favourite activity, before, even, watching TV or making sure their garden bested those of their neighbours. So, when that odd Mrs Figg had first appeared in their very normal street, these exemplary british citizens had naturally started talking and spreading rumours. Most of them, such as the one pretending that Mrs Figg was, in fact a previous Mister Figg or the one declaring that Mrs Figg was actually a special agent working for the USSR, were completely unfounded. However, there were quite a few uncommon facts about Mrs Figg that no one could deny and all agreed to say that she was, indeed, very strange.
Mrs Arabella Doreen Figg was a small woman with long grey hair in her late fifties, used to wearing a faded scottish dressing gown and fluffy pink and green slippers – even in the street - and, as far as anyone knew, was unemployed. Some pretended that she was a retired librarian, which would explain her solitary attitude, but no one had ever been able to prove it. She was either unmarried or a widow, because no one had ever seen a man with her and surely, a woman of her generation wouldn't have divorced, would she? No children had ever made an appearance on her porch and she had never received any visit. Her only company, as far as anyone could tell, was her cats.
And Dear Lord did she have cats! No one had ever been able to give the correct number, but there must have been at the very least fifteen of them. And the things bred! Mrs Figg had all sorts of cats, some were big and fat, others were small and thin, some had barely any hair on them and others had so much hair that one couldn't be too sure that one was indeed looking at a cat and not a fox or a rat or whatever else; some had many colors, others were all black or striped...as stated before, all sorts of cats, and Mrs Figg talked to them! She told them of her day and asked them questions. None of them had ever answered, of course, but Mysteria Walk's inhabitants did not want to point it out to their odd neighbour for fear of her reaction. Who knew, she could be revealed to possess violent tendencies.
No matter how many extravagant rumours had been produced about Mrs Figg, none ever came close to the truth. Indeed, the truth was so unreal that, no matter their inclination toward exaggerated, outlandish gossiping, no one among Mysteria Walk's respected dwellers would have been able to believe it. For Mrs Figg was more than just odd. She came from a completly different world, a hidden world, a world of magic. Yes, magic was real and Mrs Figg's parents had both been magic wielders. A witch and a wizard. But Mrs Figg had been born a squib, a non-magical child of two magic users. As such, Mrs Figg had been forced to live in the muggle – magicless - world from the time she had reached her majority. Mrs Figg had never quite been able to adapt to the lack of supernatural activities, which explained some of her oddities.
When Mrs Figg awoke on the All Saint's Day's morning that marked this story's beginning, the sky was full of big dark grey clouds that obstructed the already weak winter sunlight. She could not even begin to guess as she opened her shutters on this apparently perfectly normal november day that it was, in fact, anything but a normal day for the wizarding community.
Following her routine, she envelopped herself with her mother's old dressing gown, slipped on her warm and cozy slippers before undoing her rollers and brushing her hair. She then went down into the kitchen and fed her cats, not without petting each one of them extensively as they greeted her by rubbing themselves against her legs. Careful not step on anyone's tail or paw, Arabella then prepared her tea – with a drop of gin – and toasted a few slices of bread which she covered with a strange mixture of jam and honey. Taking her well deserved breakfast over to the table, she sat in a comfy chair and started to eat.
Suddenly, a sharp knock knock knock was heard against her living room's window. She put her half eaten toast down and went to investigate the noise, a few cats following after her. A brown owl was waiting for her, perched precariously on the windowsill. As though such an occurence was perfectly normal – and, knowing what we now know about Arabella Figg's background, it probably was normal to her – she all naturally opened the window and let the bird fly in. Seeing a paper roll attached to its leg, Arabella untied the thread, took the roll and gave a few strange silver coins to the animal which left after receiving the money.
Back to her breakfast and her comfy chair, Mrs Figg unrolled her package, revealing a strange newspaper with moving pictures. This was when Mrs Figg got her first clue that this day was going to be anything but normal. Indeed, upon viewing the paper's headline, Mrs Figg violently spat her gin spiked tea out, watering a few of her precious cats who were quite unhappy with her. Mrs Figg, however, did not notice her now wet cats ire. She was far too focused on what she was reading.
DARK PHARAO DEFEATED!
It is with the greatest happiness and honor that this reporter reports that the Egyptian Dark Lord who has been tyrranising wizarding Europe for the last decade and a half has finally been defeated.
As though such an event wasn't miraculous enough on its own, the process through which the Dark Pharao was vanquished is truly extraordinary!
It has been confirmed by both the great Albus Dumbledore, slayer of the Dark Lord Grindelwald and our very respected Minister of Magic Helena Bagnold that Lord Sesostris went to kill the Potter family, residing in Godric's Hollow, yesterday evening and never came back. It saddens this reporter to be the bearer of sad news on such a wonderful day, but unfortunately, he must announce that the Potter couple, James Charlus and Lily Daisy, did not survive this night.
Arabella gasped. She had known the Potters and had been particularly fond of Lily who was always such darling. Learning that she was gone... felt unreal, even more so than the rest of the article.
However, their little fifteen months old girl called Rosy – short for Rosemary – survived. In fact, she did more than just survive, as she is reportedly the one who vanquished the Dark Lord!
"From what we were able to discover, Lord Sesostris killed both James and Lily Potter before attempting to murder their daughter. In that, he failed. We don't know how or why, but when he cast the killing curse on little Rosy, the curse was reflected and struck Sesostris instead. The only damage sustained by Rosemary Potter is a lighting bolt shaped scar on her forhead." Minister Bagnold declared to the press this morning.
This reporter would like to encourage anyone reading this article to drink to this little girl's happiness and bless her name. To Rosy Potter!
As Mrs Figg tried to process the incredible information given by the paper by cleaning her dishes, a sudden Crack resounded behind her. Jumping in shock, a hand over her pounding heart, she turned and stared at the man who had just appeared out of thin air right in the middle of her kitchen.
It was a good thing that none of Mrs Figg's neighbours would ever have to see this individual because one of them would have most certainly called the proper authorities dealing with insane and potentially dangerous, characters.
The mysterious man was tall and thin and, judging from his waist length silver hair and beard, appeared to be very old. He had piercing blue eyes which sparkled behind crescent shaped glasses and his hooked nose looked like it had been broken at least twice. He wore a long midnight blue robe matched quite horribly to a bright orange cape brushing the floor and a pair of high heeled boots adorned with gleaming silver buckles. All in all, the wrinkled man looked like a loony.
Mrs Figg, however, did not seem to think him a crazy, dangerous character, as she relaxed immediatly after seeing who had just appeared in her home. She obviously knew him.
"Professor Dumbledore! What a surprise to see you here on such a day!" she exclaimed.
Albus Dumbledore, since it was him that had just appeared in Mrs Figg's kitchen, gave her a gentlemanly smile before speaking.
"- My dear Arabella, good morning to you. I assume you are aware, then, of what happened last night?
- I just received the Prophet. Tell me, Albus, is what it says true? Are the Potters...
- They are dead, yes, he answered sadly, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
- And what they say about Rosy... Is this true as well? It sounds so... unbelievable!
- Yes, Arabella, it is true as well. Little Rosy Potter did defeat Lord Sesostris", Dumbledore admitted gravely.
- It's true!" Mrs Figg exclaimed.
- After everything that man did!After all the people he killed...after all the wars... and he failed to kill a little girl! It's astounding...You-Know-Who is the only one who ever succeeding in stopping him...How was Rosy able to survive?!
- We can only guess, Dumbledore answered . We might never know.
- True, true, muttered Mrs Figg. But, Albus, why are you here? You must be very busy on such a day, after all. Why visit me? She asked, confused.
- Ah, but you see, my dear, I am here precisely because of what happened last night, Dumbledore declared, increasing Mrs Figg's confusion.
- What do I have to do with this?!
- Personnaly, nothing. However, you... Dumbledore hesitated, lost in thought. Tell me, what do you know of Lily's family? He finally asked, seemingly randomly.
- Oh, well, she told me a little. Both Lily's parents died in a train accident about a year ago and she had an older sister, but they were estranged. That's all I can think of.
- And that is enough. Lily did, indeed, have a sister, Petunia. And, you see, she is now Rosy's guardian.
- I still fail to see what this has to do with me, professor.
- Petunia Evans married Vernon Dursley three years ago, Arabella, and both of them moved to a nice litlle town called Little Whinging, in Surrey."
Mrs Figg's eyes grew wide as her confusion dissipated and a wave of sudden understanding flooded her. Little Rosy Potter, savior of the wizarding world, was going to live there, in her town, and she was the only inhabitant she knew of who had regular contacts with the magical world. Petunia Dursley most certainly stopped having anything to do with magic when she stopped talking to her sister and Albus would need to ensure the little girl's safety.
"You want me to keep an eye on her, don't you?" She asked Albus.
Dumbledore nodded.
" - Yes, and I want you to tell me if you notice anything abnormal about her. As no one has ever been known to survive the curse, we do not know if it will have long term consequences on her health. Please make sure she is well and safe, Arabella.
- Of course, Albus. It will be a pleasure. But where do the Dursleys live?
- Not too far, actually, Albus answered pleasantly. They live on Privet Drive, number four.
- Privet Drive? It's just two streets from here!
- Precisely. Quite a happy coincidence, wouldn't you say? Inquired Dumbledore with a small smile and a mischievous twinkle lighting his bright blue eyes. Well! I must be off, I do have quite a lot to do, today. Arabella, good day", he saluted before disappearing with a loud Crack.
Mind reeling, Mrs Figg mechanically went back to her dishes, not noticing the angry wet cat in her way before she stepped on its tail. What followed was a loud pained cry, followed by sharp claws meeting the flesh of Mrs Figg's bare calf and another, louder, pained cry, making the oblivious inhabitants of Wisteria Walk shake their heads at Crazy Figg's loonacy.
It had been nearly seven years since the Dursleys had found their niece on their doorstep and Little Whinging had not changed. It was still made up of the same residential districts and small supermarkets. Privet Drive's houses were identical to Wisteria Walk's and the only thing that allowed distinction between each house was the number plate on the door and the small gardens.
The same kind of people lived there. The close-minded, respectable, hard-working and absolutely normal kind. Little Whinging had never known criminality or accidents. It was, truth be said, a very peaceful and boring town. There had never been anything interesting to see. And yet...
And yet, Rosy Potter, the Rosy Potter, lived there, on the fourth, Privet Drive in Mr and Mrs Dursley's house. Not that anyone would have been able to tell by observing the inside of the house. As the sun rose higher on this particular morning, its rays lit the Dursleys rooms and their furniture, revealing an impressive amount of pictures of a fat and rather ugly little boy. Wether he was ensconced in his overbearing horse faced mother's arms – Mrs Dursley – or sat before a computer with his whale-like father beaming proudly standing beside him, the little boy – Dudley Dursley - was the only child present in the pictures. In fact, nothing, in any room, indicated that a little girl also lived there. However, even though she was still sleeping, Rosy Potter did live here.
" Up! Get up now girl!"
Rosy awoke to the shrill voice of her aunt coming through the door of her bedroom.
" Hurry and get up!" Petunia yelled once more, before going back to the kitchen, her footsteps echoing through the otherwise silent house.
Yawning, Rosy slowly sat up on her matress. Awkwardly, still half-asleep, she looked for her socks. She found one them under her pillow and the other at the foot of her bed. She put them on before taking off her uncle's old shirt which had now become her night gown. Reaching on the right side of her bed, she grabbed her T-shirt and jeans, and, after shaking them to make sure no spider was in them, she got dressed. Rosy was used to spiders. The cupboard under the stairs was full of them. And that was where she slept.
When she got to the kitchen, Rosy noticed that the table was buried under a mountain of gifts. Dudley's birthday! How could she have forgotten?! He'd been prancing around all week waiting for it!
" Finally! You're here! Go and cook the eggs and the bacon, girl. I've got enough to do on my own witout you being lazy!" Petunia snapped from her place next to the oven where a cake had just finished baking.
Not saying anything, Rosy complied. A few minutes later, Dudley entered the kitchen with his father. While Vernon sat himself on his chair, his son went straight to the gifts and started ripping their wrapping eagerly. Several new computer games were revealed and a set of tin soldier made Rosy drool with envy. She had never received any gift.
As Petunia put the burnt chocolate cake on the now gift-free table, the phone rang. Vernon got up – a feat worthy of admiration as he moved very rarely and only when he had to – and went to get it. He came back looking furious.
" - Bad news, Pet. Mrs Figg has a doctor appointment and cannot watch the girl.
- What?! Screamed Petunia, outraged.
- Why didn't she say anything sooner?
- According to her, she forgot.
- That crazy old goat! What are we going to do now?! Petunia yelled.
- We have no choice. We have to take her with us", said Vernon, upset.
Rosy froze. Take her with them? To the park?! For real? Wonder filled her heart and a burning hope made her breath hitch in her throat. She had never gotten to do anything close to fun with the Dursleys. Going to the parc – even if she didn't get to try any of the games – would still be much better than doing chores or stay with Crazy Figg where she would do nothing more than look at cat pictures. She shuddered. Definitely better, as long as Dudley forgot her.
When Dudley was bored, he used his cousin as his personal toy. Most of the time, Rosy, who was much thinner than him was also faster and succeded in escaping him, but when he caught her...it was hell! He pulled her hair, kicked her, pushed her down, kicked her some more, ripped her clothes... All of which made her achy – very achy – and dirty.
Dirty. Now that was a thing aunt Petunia hated. Anything dirty did not belong in her house, her niece included and her son excluded – as it was well-known that Dyddikins could not get dirty anyway.
There were a lot of things that Petunia hated. Dirt was just one of them. Beggars, loonys, abnormality - Rosy did not really know what the word meant, but it must be important because, according to her aunt, Rosy had a lot of abnormality – foreigners, adventurers, Mrs Kingchurch and her perfect flowers were others. And appart from being Mrs Kingchurch or her flowers, Rosy was all of the things that aunt Petunia did not like. That was why, according to her guardians, Rosy had to sleep in the cupboard. Because she was an unsavory individual – she did not know what that meant either.
Of course, living with the Dursleys wasn't all bad. Yes, she had chores to do and got beaten up by Dudley once in awhile, but none of the elder Dursleys ever hit her. Her punishments were just lack of food for a day at most and being stuck in the cupboard for just as long.
But when her chores were done and she wasn't being punished, Rosy was allowed to go to the library and borrow books. Rosy loved books. They were great! She could learn all sorts of things in them, like algebra – she loved maths – and history. But the best of the best were the novels! The ones with magic in them. Of course, she never took those back home, because magic was abnormal and her aunt would have cancelled her subscription to the library if she'd been caught reading such things. But still, the risk was worth it, in Rosy's opinion. Because magic was cool!
"Girl!" a yell pulled her out of her thoughts. Rosy looked up to uncle Vernon, who was standing next to the door. "Come on, we don't have all day!"
Rosy realised that she'd been daydreaming longer than she thought. The Dursleys were already in the car, and were waiting for her. Eyes widening at her inatention, she hurried and ran out the door before getting to the car. That was when she realised she would have to spend the entire ride sitting next to Dudley. Rosy bit back a discomfited moan and got in the car.
" ... Madmen! Motorcycles ought to be forbidden!" yelled Vernon, who was driving the car, when a rider passed them on the left side of the road and not on the right.
On this sunny June day, the motorway was crowded and Vernon was angry. More so than usual, at any rate. He'd started complaining the moment he'd left home, but things had only gotten worse when he'd seen how many people were on the road.
It was the first time Rosy had been on a motorway, and the M25, so close to London, was impressive. She had looked up a map in the library a few days before to see how the Dursleys would go to Chessington Parc of Adventure and had seen the name of the motorway there. She had not known back then that she would actually get to see it with her own eyes.
"Ouch!" She screamed painfully as Dudley kicked her hard in the knee.
Surprised, Vernon gave a sudden jerk on the wheel, sending the car on the right, just as a truck passed by. Terrified, Rosy's eyes widdened before she felt pain. She stopped breathing, her whole body being squeezed and she felt herself being ripped apart. Or so she thought. Because one moment she was in the car and the next, the horrible sensation had stoped, and she was on the grassy side of the road, not a scratch on her. And alone.
Looking straight ahead, a scream escaped her lips and tears pooled in her eyes. The Dursleys car was a mess. It had been completly crushed by the truck and broken glass layed on the pavement. But the worst was the blood. It was everywhere. On the road, on the car, inside of it and...
Rosy closed her eyes and turned away. She did not want to see it! She felt a burning sensation in her stomach and bent down before throwing up. Sobs started raking her body and, in shock, not understanding what had just happened – or maybe understanding it too well – she sat down and cried. Alone.
It was a week later, after being released from the hospital and after the official papers pertaining to her guardianship had been dealt with, that Rosy stood before her new "home", in Whitechapel, London."Lady Diana's Orphan Asylum" read the big red plate on the roof.
None of the Dursleys had survived the accident and Rosy's case had been dubed as miraculous. No one knew how she'd gotten out of car, not even Rosy herself. All she knew was that she had survived, once more. And that for the first time of her life, she truly felt like an orphan.
Author note: I would like to point out that english is not my birth language, and although I think that I speak it quite well, I would like to ask if you could point out anything that sound odd and tell me why. That way, I will be able to correct my mistakes. If you want to know where I'm from...check my profile... Because, to be honest, I told someone, once, where I was from in a review to correct a mistake said person made when writing in may birth language and he/she did not believe me... See if I help again... sigh
Otherwise, the name of the series "Fligina Rosa" is, as most of you will have guessed, latin. It means "Potter's Rose". I just wanted something more original than "Rose Potter and the blah blah blah..." Don't ask me why I chose latin, though... It just sounded cool, mysterious, magical... So, latin it is.
I also have a plot, a complex one based on a new background and a new dark lord. In most FemHarry/TMR pairings, Grindelwald is alive, but I think that this is too easy and takes some of the intrigue's interest away, because we already know a lot about Grindelwald. So here you go, meet your new Big Bad, the Dark Pharao Sesostris.
I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter and that you will, yes you guessed it, reviewwww.
Good day to all!
Cristalelle.