She could feel her heart beating against her rib cage, the quick thuds drowning out the noise of the crowd. Her head began to swim, and she reminded herself to breathe to clear it again. Distantly, she recognised voices speaking reassurances; she nodded as if she was listening, but she was too focused on the ground below to hear, waiting...
Rose Potter had only got her brother back four years ago, after ten years apart, and since then trouble had chased after Harry as if it was determined to take him away from her again. He was too young, far too young, to be in this stupid tournament, and whose stupid idea was it anyway? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
It had been more than an hour now, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could last before passing out from the stress of waiting. And then, out of nowhere, there he was: a lanky teenager with a mop of dark, wild hair, much like her own. Relief flooded her, and without a second thought she flew down the steps, barging through the crowd until she stopped dead, registered the scene before her, and let out a harsh scream.
Cedric Diggory was the heartthrob of her year. Everyone knew he was going to change the world for the better, marry a breathtakingly beautiful witch and produce adorable, perfect children, and they would all love him and hate him for doing so. Except, he was dead. No matter how hard Harry clung on to his lifeless body, and no matter how desperately she wished otherwise, it was clear that nothing could be done.
She prised Harry's hands off the body, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. At first he struggled, and then he slumped against her as the fight went out of him. She might be three years older than her little brother, but somehow he wasn't so little anymore and she struggled to keep them both upright.
"It's alright, Miss Potter, I've got him... Come here, Potter, hospital wing..." Rose recognised the growl as Professor Moody, and allowed him to steer her brother in the direction of the castle. She blinked as she took in the scene, opening her ears for the first time: she could hear the screams and cries of fellow students; the barking orders of authorities; the heart wrenching wail of a childless father. The crowd had now descended the steps, and she felt herself being buffered from this way to that. Professor Dumbledore was searching the mass of people, a troubled frown on his face, and Rose forced her way through to him with a nagging feeling that something was very wrong.
"It's Moody, Professor! He said he was taking him to the hospital wing," she gasped, the panic that suddenly gripped her leaving her breathless. Professor Moody was the most renowned ex-auror, a saviour of the wizarding world, surely he could be trusted? But someone they knew was trying to kill Harry, and the look on her headmaster's face told her otherwise. She tried to follow Dumbledore as students jumped out of his path, sprinting across the grounds as she finally made it through, but he was nowhere to be seen. Figuring that Moody had said he was taking Harry to the hospital wing, Rose dashed up several staircases, only to find a bewildered Madame Pompfrey. She spun around, almost falling back down the staircases in a rush to get to Moody's office, her next destination, only to find Dumbledore with his wand pointed at some stranger's face, with Snape forcing a clear liquid down his throat. Rosalyn gaped, shook her head to will some sense into it, and then listened as all the disturbing truths of the last year came tumbling out.
...
"Rose..." the man croaked as she stepped into the headmaster's office, and she saw her own fears reflected in his eyes. After a 12 year stint in Azkaban, Sirius Black was a little worse for wear, but Rosalyn was eternally grateful that he had stepped up to the part of Parent in her little brother's life. It only took his concerned gaze to make her break into a thousand pieces, and she sank to her knees as they gave away, desperately willing the tears away. She felt his strong arms wrap around her, and somehow she broke further and began to sob uncontrollably. His arms tightened, as if he was the only thing preventing her from dissolving into a puddle of tears. She broke away, hating herself for crying and hating him for witnessing it. She strode over to the window and stared out at the lake with unseeing eyes while they waited for Dumbledore, shifting uncomfortably as she felt her brother's godfather continue to gaze at her, the expression reflected in the glass unfathomable.