Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters or settings in it, no matter how much I wish I did. You have J. K. Rowling to thank for that literary masterpiece. However, I do own this plot.
Summary: Rose Weasley is heartbroken after a tragedy in her family, and cant help but blame herself. In a depressed state, she goes out into a dangerous lightning storm and is struck by an unusual lightning bolt. When she wakes up she isn't where she had been, and has found herself in the past. Can she find a way to get home? And how will her presence in the past and the influence she has on people change the future?
Prologue
I grinned as I spoke on the phone, twirling the wire around my finger. I spoke for a little longer before hanging up. Skipping down the stairs I entered the kitchen, where my mother and father were talking, Mum, cooking some chicken and Dad leaning against the counter discussing something with her. When he saw me bouncing into the kitchen he smiled slightly.
"What are you so excited about?" he questioned.
"I just got a date." I practically sang. Mum sent me a smile, but Dad's face turned stormy.
"With who?" his voice was hard.
"Scorpius." I replied, pulling the fridge open and grabbing a soda.
"Scorpius? As in Scorpius Malfoy?" I sent him a look before popping the top. My silence was answer enough. "No. No. I absolutely forbid it." The once carefree air suddenly turned dangerous.
I put the can down, my face turning hard as well, "Why not?"
"Why not?! Because he's a Malfoy! They're no good, Rosie, and I'm not going to let you get hurt."
"I'm not going to get hurt! It's a date Dad, not a bloody engagement!"
"Watch your tongue young lady."
"This is so unfair! You can't choose who I do and don't date!" I argued, feeling challenged; my pride hurt.
"As long as you live under this roof you will obey my rules!"
"I'll obey your stupid rules, but those rules don't include who I can and can't hang out with! Mum, you can't seriously let him control my life like this, can you?" I turned to look at my mother, wanting to have someone on my side, supporting me.
She looked up from the chicken, and then went back to working with the meat, thinking everything through, like always. "You're right, Rose, it is unfair for us to control you in that way. However, we have never met this boy, and I think until we have gotten at least a small grasp on what his nature is it would be best for you not to date him just yet."
I looked between the two, anger bubbling up inside me, "You've got to be kidding me!"
"Just for the time being." Mum emphasized, and that may have calmed me down enough to be reasonable, if Dad hadn't interjected.
"Not for the ruddy time being! My daughter will never, ever date a Malfoy. End of story."
That really tipped me off, "I hate you!" I yelled, turning and running to my room. I was surprised with even myself, having not planned to say that. If I had been at a level head I never would have dreamed it, because it wasn't true. But now that it had been said I wasn't about to back down—not in my current state.
I reached my room and slammed the door hard behind me, locking it and throwing myself onto my bed, screaming into the pillow. The image of my father's shocked face kept running through my head, but still my body was filled with boiling rage. How dare they control my life like that? I was practically an adult. I'd be of age by February, less than six months away. Yet they were acting like I was a child.
An hour later there was a knock on the door, saying dinner was ready. I didn't respond, or even move from my place on the bed. They left me there, not bothering me again for the rest of the night. By the morning my anger had yet to subside, though I felt guilty for my words. I didn't hate my father, quite the opposite. I loved him with all my heart. He was one of my best friends, even if he was somewhat annoying and childish at times. Still, he was my father, and had been faithful and loving throughout my entire life. I'd been out of line, though I still wasn't willing to admit it to his face.
It was at noon that my father paid a visit, saying he was going to drive down to the ice cream parlor—our favorite spot. He was inviting me along, but I refused to respond still. I heard him sigh on the other side of the door, and then the sound of his retreating steps. I stayed in my room for a few more hours, reading some books for the coming school year, before I finally gave in to the guilt. I couldn't stand putting my father through pain.
I left my bedroom and descended the stairs and into the hallway, the front door straight ahead, with an archway on either side of me, the one on the left leading to a sitting room, the one on the right to a large dining room. There was another arch in the dining room that connected to the kitchen, and a hallway between the stairs and the wall. If you went down the hallways it connected to the kitchen and the sitting room, and in there you found a bathroom. Under the stairs was the laundry room.
Now I followed the hall, peaking into the dining room as I passed it. I got to the kitchen and saw Mum on the phone, her back to me. She was quiet, her body stock still as she listened. I sound her gasp in a breath, a hand moving up to her mouth as she mutely nodded to whatever she was hearing. She didn't know I was there. I heard the sound of her snuffling a sob, and I watched and listened as she spoke on the phone, her words not making sense. What was going on?
Finally, she hung up the phone and turned, noticing me for the first time. Her eyes were red and tears were streaming down her face.
"Mum? What's wrong?"
She took a large gulp of air, struggling to get the words out. I'd never seen her so upset.
"It's your father."
0o0o0o0
I stood there, dressed in all black as the preacher spoke over the coffin. My mother was to my left, and to her left was my brother Hugo. Tears streamed down his and her faces, but mine was stone still, dry but for the rain that hit it, the umbrella over me doing nothing to keep me dry. My dress stuck to my form, and I was surrounded by family and friends, all crying over my father. My father, the war hero. The guy who battled from his first year at Hogwarts, first helping Uncle Harry and then becoming an auror, tracking down Death Eaters. After all of that without ever dying and he went out because of something as simple as a car crash. You'd think it would be simple enough to fix him up. But no, by the time anyone came to even get him to a hospital he was already gone. He hadn't stood a chance.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…" the old, aged man was saying. I only caught snippets of his words, too wrapped up in my grief to pay attention. I wouldn't let myself cry. I didn't deserve that relief. I was the worst daughter in existence. It seemed only fair for me to suffer.
The rain had come unexpectedly for the end of august, the storm raging relentlessly. I wanted to scream along with the thunder that rumbled in the distance. Everyone left after the ceremony. All but me. The house was only a mile or so away—I told Mum I could walk. I would never, ever go into a muggle car again. They were unsafe. I had a better chance walking, and I wanted to be alone at the moment anyways. I needed the solitude, and I didn't want to go back to my room. It held too many memories of the day a few weeks before. I wanted to never go back to that place again. It wasn't the same now—it was empty. It sounded too silent with the sudden absence of happiness. Every jacket I found that was his, hung around the house from his laziness to put it away was just another reminder that he wasn't coming back. All the home video's he obsessed over told that he would never add another to the collection. Every scratch on the antic table by the front door screamed that his keys wouldn't be thrown there carelessly to scratch the old wood and glass ever again. Everything taunted me, nagging at my memories. I couldn't stand it.
However, I had to go home, no matter how much I hated it. I sat in front of the grave for a good hour however, sitting on top of the fresh dirt, rubbing patterns into it and smoothing it out, trying to make it perfect. It had begun to turn into a churning mud, soaking me with the grime, but I didn't care. I read his tombstone to myself over and over, memorizing every crook and cranny, every crack and inscription and design. I had it imprinted into my brain, just like the look of pain on my father's face when I told him I hated him. And my mother after she hung up the phone and faced me, tears streaming down her face. And Hugo when he found out, and how his strong, smiley face turned to one of horror, shock, and immense sadness and pain. All these images were tattooed to my brain, to stay with me forever. I hated myself.
0o0o0o0
I looked out the window of the train quietly, seeing everyone with their parents, happy and laughing. I saw Mum and Hugo still out there, talking with all our family. I'd taken off the moment we got here, wanting to be alone. I'd grown distant from everyone after that night. I knew they were all worried. Hugo was still depressed, but at least he was able to smile now and then. He was already in the healing process. I wasn't even close to getting that far.
The door to my compartment slid open and I didn't bother looking up to see who it was. The door then slid shut and someone sat beside me, their arm sliding around my waist, pulling me to them. I looked up finally to see Scorpius there, his face full of sympathy. Pity even. I shrugged him away.
"Leave me alone, Scor." I said softly, looking away from him again.
"Rose, I'm really sorry about what happened." He said, moving away and giving me my space, like the gentleman that he was.
"Yeah, me too." I said softly, making no move to look at him again. Instead I just pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.
"If you need to talk…"
"I don't. I just want to be by myself." I answered curtly, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence.
I was sure he was nodding, probably with a somewhat hurt expression on his face, "Sure, Rosie. I'll talk to you later."
Rosie. Nobody had called me 'Rosie' since before the funeral. Nobody but my dad.
"Scorpius?"
There was quiet, and I knew he had paused to listen.
"Don't call me 'Rosie' anymore."
Silence answered me, and then the door slid open and then closed. Then, I was finally alone. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I blinked them back, hard. I wasn't going to let myself cry. I didn't deserve the relief that would come with it.
The train pulled out of the station and I was left in the compartment by myself. Even first years avoided me. They'd read what happened in the Prophet. They'd seen a picture of us, mourning my father. They knew I wouldn't welcome them, and all they'd get would be an awkward silence for the entire trip. So for the whole ride I sat in the same spot, unmoved, still hugging my legs and staring out the window unseeing, my eyes glazed as my mind raced over memories of how things used to be.