UNCERTAINTY
When Rose was four, she hated the thought of being wrong.
Two months after her fourth birthday, Hermione –who'd always believed in the power of a good, solid, Muggle primary education- pulled a pretty white dress over Rose's head, strapped her into a comfy pair of sandals and took her to the local grammar school for her first grade entrance test. Rose had slept for eight hours the night before, eaten a good breakfast, and absolutely hadn't been pressured about anything (Hermione had read a lot of parenting manuals, and followed them all to the letter). On the day, Rose was calm, happy, and ready.
So when Hermione took her hand at the reception, and smiled reassuringly at her and told her that yes, it would be okay if she made mistakes- there would always be a next time, Rose just smiled back up at her and said: 'Mommy, I won't need a next time, because I won't make any mistakes this time,'
Hermione smoothed a red curl back from Rose's face, and looked fondly into her big blue eyes- Ron's eyes. Of course you won't, she thought.
What she said was: 'Even so, I don't want you to worry about anything. Just write what you know, Rosie,'
Hermione's never been able to disregard knowledge that came out of a book, and those parenting guides had been very firm about some things.
'I shan't worry, Mommy,' Rose said, because it was true, and because she was sure that was the right answer.
She wasn't worried, either, because even when she was four Rose never wanted to be wrong so she tried her best to always be right. And Rose's best had always, always been the best, so no; she wasn't worried about making mistakes.
But when she sat in that bright, airy room, with sunlight spilling into every corner and a plump, happy looking woman strolling past her at intervals, she was worried. She looked down at the paper in front of her, full of big black numbers and complicated, curling letters - and she knew all the answers, oh yes.
But Rose never wanted to be wrong, and something was different about these questions and it bothered her. She knew all the answers, but- but she wasn't sure they weren't wrong. So she waited until the plump, happy looking woman passed by her again, and when she did, Rose pulled at the corner of her paisley dress until she stopped and looked down at her, smiling kindly.
'Yes, dear?' she asked.
'Please ma'am, would you tell me if my answers are right? I have to know,' Rose asked politely, just like her mother had taught her.
A barely conscious hint of command laced her tone, and a wholly unconscious thrum of magic edged her words.
The plump, happy looking woman's expression went dazed, just for minute, before the kindly smile slipped onto her face again. Rose didn't notice.
'Of course I'll check them, dear,' she said obligingly.
Five minutes later Rose surveyed her paper with satisfaction. She hadn't made a single mistake. Better than that; the strange, unpleasantly twisty feeling that had taken over the pit of her stomach when she was uncertain about her answers had disappeared.
When Rose was four, she thought she hated being wrong. When she was four years and two months old, she realized what she really hated was being uncertain.
The next year- on her fifth birthday, her parents got her exactly what she'd asked for. Hermione watched with pleasure as her little girl buried her nose in the Children's Encyclopedia, all pale freckled skin and cloudy red hair behind new leather. She smiled slightly, and with no small amount of pride- Rose's blue eyes were squinted in ferocious concentration, and she'd already gotten through over a hundred pages.
Yes, thought Rose as she turned the hundred and thirteenth page. Not being sure was much worse than not being right.
A/N: I promise there's a point to this little slice of pre- school life. Chapter two up soon!