Author's Note: It may be for the best if you viewed this entry not so much as the First Chapter, but as a Prologue. Now, obviously, Mrs. Rowling didn't utilize Prologues in her series, but, thematically, this piece is best read under pretense of a Prologue.

Chapter 1

McKinsey's Rose

"Roman, dear, it's wonderful to see you."

The woman opened her arms, and Roman entered them, embracing her like a nephew might embrace a beloved aunt.

"You too, Professor Ennis."

They exchanged pleasantries, and the woman led Roman to sit in an ornate wicker chair in the garden while she hurried off to prepare tea.

Roman ran a hand through his feathery blonde hair, and sighed. So much had been done that day, yet there was so much left to do. And this would undoubtedly be a tiring portion of his work– he knew that already.

The young man liked Professor Ennis a good deal. She was by far his favorite professor in his school days, despite her being head of Ravenclaw (Roman was a proud Hufflepuff). She was Professor of Muggle Studies, and she was one of the most intelligent women Roman had ever had the pleasure to speak with; one of the prettiest, too. He respected her.

He feared that would make his work even more difficult.

Ennis arrived shortly, placing a tray of tea and lemon bars before Roman on a table that matched the chair he sat in. She took a seat across from him and passed him a teacup. Roman was amused to find that she remembered him well enough to assume he'd take his tea free of addition.

"Professor, you didn't even offer me any sugar."

She smiled, "I know you, and your taste in tea, better than that, Mr. McKinsey."

"Earl Grey, too. You must remember me well."

"Well of course, dear. You're unique. It's not often a student poses me a thought provoking question, and it's hard to forget those countless hours spent in my office being bombarded with your latest discoveries. I appreciated it. You were refreshing."

Roman chuckled. "Refreshing! I like that."

The woman poured her own cup of tea, mixed in a splash of cream, and took a cautious sip. "Well, Roman, how are things? I hope you've been applying that mind of yours to something more than Quidditch."

"Oh yes ma'am. I have several projects in the works. One of which I came here to discuss, actually."

"Oh? Interesting. Anything in the way of actual employment? You'd be a shoe-in for the Institute of Muggle Studies."

Roman tried to stifle a flinch as she said this, and hoped it wasn't noticed. "Well, I'm not so sure about that, Professor. But yes, I've actually been working with the Daily Prophet. I write an anonymous advice column."

"Roman McKinsey, a journalist? My! Not the first thing I would've pictured you doing, for sure. I suppose I imagined something more– you know–"

"Well paying?"

Ennis laughed a tiny, pretty laugh. "Yes, I suppose that is what I imagined. Well let's hear about this project of yours."

"Wonderful. Would mind too terribly, professor, if we walked and talked?" Roman looked about the garden, "This landscape is just lovely."

Professor Ennis assured him that she wouldn't mind at all, and so they began to walk.

"My current project," Roman began, "is an extension of many of my ideas regarding Wizarding archaeology. Do you recall any of those, by chance, Professor?"

"Oh yes," she said, "how could I forget? I've picked up many of those paths of study myself, since you left. Your essays on the New Testament alone were– well, just wonderful."

"Thank you. Interesting you mention that, Professor. That is some of what I came here to discuss with you."

By this time, they had arrived at a rose bush. It was obviously magically amplified; it was impossibly large, gave off on unbelievably pleasant scent, and it's petals ranged in color from white to black.

Roman stopped here, and gazed into a lovely bright purple rose that caught his eye. "Professor," he said, "suppose we– you and I, I mean; witches and wizards– suppose we are the true Mankind?"

Ennis considered this with a slight look of confusion. "Well, Roman. That's… that's an odd thing to say."

"How so?"

"Well," Ennis began. She looked about, and struggled to find an answer. "It's just not a well supported idea, Roman. And it reeks of Riddleism."

Roman chuckled a bit, almost inaudibly. "I do so hate that term. But really, Professor– why not? We are the most well endowed, compared to our Muggle counterparts, yes?"

"Yes, Roman, but–"

"And are you a Christian woman, Professor?"

Ennis stopped mid-sentence, and her mouth hung open. It was obvious she found his current line of questioning strange. "I don't see what that has to do with it, Roman."

"Are you though?"

"Well yes. Yes, you must've known that, dear."

"Well tell me, Professor," Roman said. He reached out and grabbed his purple rose by the stem. There were no thorns. "Why would our God create a race with our natural gift, if he did not mean them to be unique?"

"Well Roman we are unique. You said it yourself– wizardry is the uniqueness, in and of itself! We are still human beings, Roman, just as the Muggles are."

"I don't think so."

Professor Ennis stared at him, wide-eyed. Roman didn't look back. His gaze was fixed on the impossibly beautiful rose. "What? Excuse me, but– what the hell do you mean you don't think so?"

"Just what I said."

Ennis was speechless. For a short while, she said nothing. And then, "Roman, I think these are– dangerous ideas you're throwing about. Just think–"

Roman laughed, in earnest. A deep, audible laugh. "Yes, you're right about that, Professor. They are dangerous. This Ministry is infested with thieves and traitors. I could very well be silenced for what I am becoming."

"What you're becoming? And what the bloody hell do you mean thieves? What exactly do they steal?"

"Our God given gift."

With a deft movement of his right hand, Roman plucked the purple rose, and inserted the stem into a buttonhole of his jacket. Ennis was, evidently, in shock. She still said nothing.

"I rather like this rose. I do. I hope you don't mind if I take it. You see, ma'am, I envy people like you, who are content with empty beauties like this. To grow, prune, and, make perfect something like this… it's a beautiful thing. I'm not content with it. I never have been."

"Roman," the Professor said. She grabbed his right hand in both of hers. "We need to discuss this. You're acting strange. Something's changed, dear, and that frightens me."

Roman tried to snatch his hand back as delicately as possible. "Professor, I've not changed, I promise you. I've only come closer and closer to the truth. I've not changed though.

"I've always envied your kind, those who could enjoy things because they're enjoyable. Guys who were content to spend their days snogging on the lakefront, or glorifying themselves on the Quidditch pitch. That's what I wanted to be. I tried all of that. I tried most everything, Professor. I was never happy. And it's because, all that time, I was being called to something greater."

Roman McKinsey closed his eyes, and raised his head to the sky. He sighed. "I came here to let you repent, Professor. To repent while you can."

"Roman, I think it's best you leave–"

Sweat was beading on Roman's forehead in the August sun. "Mrs. Ennis, my colleagues and I have thus far today visited twenty-two other reputable witches and wizards. Only three of them repented. We killed the nineteen that didn't."

The sureness, the serenity, with which Roman said this threw Ennis off for a moment. The words at first didn't register. "You've what?"

"Mrs. Ennis," Roman said, "This day will, henceforth, be known as the First Purge. I'll ask you now. The final hour is here. Do you repent?"

Roman lowered his head, and locked eyes with Professor Ennis, his intense brown irises meeting her lovely green. Roman had long since noticed the fashionable, dainty looking wand holster she kept tied around her calf. An auburn lock of hair fell in her face as she reached for it.

Her hand had not long reached the hilt of her wand before Roman's had fallen from his coat sleeve to hand, and was waved in a calculated slashing motion. He uttered the word "Sectumsempra".

The woman collapsed. Blood spread out quickly and soaked the front of her dress. Her face was soon rendered unrecognizable in the red ooze.

Roman took a deep breath, and, wand still in hand, bowed his head. He said a prayer.

He lifted up his head, and tears were running down both sides of his face. "May our Father in Heaven forgive you for this, Professor."