A/N: Figured I'd stick up some of the little plunnies that sprout in my mind. Most of them are HP related at least. This first one is kindasortavaguely HP/Doctor Who.

Warnings: Spoilers. . . femHarry Potter. . . . Not much else, really.

Rose Marian Potter – The Big Bad Wolf

Rose Marian Potter was often thought of as wrong by those around her, even the Wizards. It wasn't that she looked wrong, no. In fact, she looked quite normal, having slightly messy dark brown hair and vibrant green eyes, a soft button nose, and pouty lips.

No, something just told them she belonged somewhere Else. Nonetheless, she was a perfectly normal witch. . . if you discounted her surviving the Killing Curse, of course. She had a fiery, headstrong personality, charming when necessary, something that many said came from her dear mother. She was always on time and never got lost – provided that she had been somewhere before.

And Rose always persevered. No matter the challenges, the 'Gryffindor Golden Girl' always came out on top, seemingly unscathed in both mind and body. A possessed professor? Taken care of. A life-giving stone? Saved, to be destroyed. A basilisk and a memory in a book? Disposed of, though she wished she could have saved the poor snake. A falsely accused man and a hippogriff? Rescued and set free, with a bit of time to spare.

Truth be told, however. . . Rose felt like she had died already. The strangulation from Voldemort-Quirrel. The poison of the basilisk – no matter that the dear phoenix had cried for her. It hurt and pained her every night, every time she closed her eyes. It wasn't often, but when she should have died, she didn't; no, instead, it haunted her mind.

RMP – tBBB

Rose always did have a fondness for pretty things. As such, when Cedric Diggory had asked her to the Yule Ball in her fourth year, despite being a fellow champion, she had accepted. She danced, unconsciously longing for different music, different men, a different time, and a different place, all so very far away.

It was early 1995 when Bartemius Crouch Junior first saw the big Bad Wolf. The girl that he had been so eager to kill became something else, something that burned with an ancient and terrible power. The Death Eater shook in fear, wanting to run, to hide, to be forgiven.

This would be how it all ended, he was sure. This girl would scour all who oppose her from the face of the earth, no quarter given to those who had harmed her and hers. He didn't want to die. So, Barty Crouch got on his hands and knees and begged for his life. He did not want to Burn.

A small, faintly glowing hand folded around his forearm, over the Dark Mark. He screamed in an agony worse than one of the Dark Lord's torture curses. The filthy Mark was wiped off and replaced with a burn scar in the shape of a wolf's paw print.

"I am the big Bad Wolf," she said softly, but it still hurt his ears. "I set you free. Do not make me regret it, Barty. Now, run. Run, and never stop." Her voice was Forever, Eternal, Ancient.

Bartemius Crouch Junior turned tail and ran. Never once did he stop. He saw the world – he saw its beauty. To the Wizards, he was dead. The Bad Wolf swept over the Wizarding World and, just as he had predicted, burned the taint from it. The Dark Lord had unleashed a great and terrible and merciful force upon all of them. Crouch, however, took no part in the magical world ever again.

The Bad Wolf had spared him, after all.

A/N: There we are. A drabble. It'd be good to get all these silly drabble-like ideas out of my way.

If you've Followed me, Thanks! ;]

K9