Hello, my fellow Potterheads! How are you? Good? Bad? I hope that you're all doing well.
As many of you are aware, I have taken down my original draft of The Rose Potter Saga. Reason: It wasn't the best that it could have been. My facts were incorrect, the grammar was horrible, and I'd rather not talk about the spelling. I can honestly say that I did not put enough effort into the story.
When I re-read this story, I felt disappointed with myself. So, what did I decide to do? Simple: Re-write it, do more research, and hire a beta.
Now, without further ado, I give you the new and improved Rose Potter Saga.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. J.K. Rowling does.
Beta reader: HarryGinnyRonHermione. Thank you so much for helping me with Rose's story! You did such an amazing job :)
The first of November was a cool night. However, the chilly air didn't prevent a certain someone from treading down an empty road known as Privet Drive. Walking down this strip of pavement was an odd-looking elderly man. He wore what looked like long, purple robes and high-heeled, buckled boots. This made him stick out like a sore thumb. (A perfectly normal neighborhood and a . . . not so normal man do not mix well.)
As this peculiar person made his way down the road - as if it were an everyday activity for him - he searched his cloak for something. Eventually, he found it. He took the object - which looked like a silver cigarette lighter - out, flicked it open, held it high up in the air, and clicked it. Suddenly, the nearest street lamp went out, making a tiny pop sound as it dimmed. At this, the blue-eyed man gave a light chuckle. He repeated this until every single light was out - excluding the moon, stars, and two distant pinpricks that looked like baby fireflies. Satisfied, the stranger put the lighter back into the pocket it came from and continued his late night stroll.
To the right of him, he heard a soft mew. Looking down, he saw the source of the sound: A tabby cat. "Good evening, Minerva," he greeted the animal.
At this, the feline transformed into a woman who wore clothing similar to the man's. "Albus," she said in response. "Is this such a good idea? People are beginning to talk. They're calling her the Girl Who Lived. What if she's found? I don't want to even think about what You-Know-Who would do if he were to find her," Minerva expressed her worries as the two continued on, emerald cloak brushing the ground behind her.
"Minerva. You mustn't worry. I'm sure that living with her Muggle family will be the last thing to cross Voldemort's" - Minerva gave a slight flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord's name - "or anyone else's minds. And you do not need to fear his true name, my dear. It will make you as stiff as a tabby."
Minerva fixed her glare on the bearded, silver-haired man.
Smiling, Albus held out a small tin that looked bizarre to his companion. "Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"A what?"
"It's a Muggle candy. It's not as good as a sherbert lemon drop, but it still fascinates me, none-the-less."
"No, thank you," she said stiffly, as if he had offered her some form of poison.
Albus shrugged his shoulders, as if saying 'Suit yourself' before placing a yellow sweet into his mouth.
Minerva remained silent until they came across a rather ordinary-looking home. For the following few minutes, Minerva complained how it seemed everyone was acting "completely idiotic." ("Flocks of owls . . . shooting stars . . . . You'd think they'd be a bit more careful.") Once she was done, the venting woman became silent, afraid to ask the one question she wanted to know the official answer to. "Tell me, Professor Dumbledore. Is it true? The rumors about Lily and James?"
"I'm afraid that they are."
Minerva felt a pain begin to overtake her heart, like a Dementor had decided to make a permanent residence in the beating organ. James, a mischievous, wild-haired boy, whom excelled in the subject, Transfiguration, she taught and yet always seemed to find a way to annoy her whenever he was around his troublesome group of mates. And sweet, beautiful Lily. A young girl so full of life and fire that it was impossible for her former professor to comprehend that she was gone.
"I didn't want to believe it. So, it's true, then? They are dead? Killed by You-Know . . . Voldemort?" she corrected herself.
"Yes, it is."
After another moment of silence, Minerva changed the conversation in an attempt to forget the awful news. "Where is Hagrid? He should be here by now."
"Now, now. You mustn't worry. She is in good hands with Hagrid. They'll be here soon enough."
Just then, as if on cue, a flying motorcycle with a giant man on it came out of the sky and landed on the street.
"Oh, Hagrid . . . . Is the child safe?" asked Minerva, concerned, as Hagrid got off the enchanted vehicle.
"Yep. She's all righ'. Have 'er all bundled up nice an' tigh'." Hagrid took a basket off of the flying machine. Inside was a female infant wrapped in a knitted, powder pink blanket.
"No problems, I hope, Hagrid?" asked Professor Dumbledore.
The beast of a man shook his head. "No, sir," Hagrid said, as if proud with himself. "House was almos' destroyed, but I got 'er out right before the Muggles came. She fell asleep as soon as we took off."
The funny-looking trio looked down at the sleeping baby, whom was oblivious to what had just happened, before turning and walking up to her destination's doorstep.
Minerva fought the urge to take the innocent and run away with her. She was not very keen on giving the infant to this horrid family of hers whom she'd spent the whole day watching. And to make matters worse, Professor Dumbledore planed on leaving only a letter to explain what had happened in the recent days!
Once they stood in front of the door, Minerva said, "Alright, Hagrid. Put her down."
"Aw, but she's ter cute ter pass up so easily. Are yeh sure we can' keep 'er?" he asked while cooing at the baby.
"As much fun that would be," said Professor Dumbledore, "it would only put her in even more danger."
Realizing that the old man was right, Hagrid reluctantly put the child down. Once she was situated, Hagrid sniffed, Minerva gave a wistful sigh, and Professor Dumbledore moved the little girl's bangs away from her small forehead, revealing a tiny lightning bolt scar. "Good luck, Rose Potter," he whispered in a soft tone of voice.
After placing a note beside Rose, the friends shared a quick look.
Once he returned the light he'd trapped inside of the object that resembled a silver cigarette lighter, Professor Dumbledore nodded his head and swished his clock, disappearing like mist on a summer's day. Hagrid snifed, once again, as he got back onto his motorcycle and flew off into the ink-black sky.
Minerva watched the huge man ride away until he became nothing more than another glimmering star. All the while, the stern-looking woman thought of the tiny girl who slept in her temporary bed, unaware of how famous she would one day become. Unaware of how amazing her mother and father were, sacrificing themselves so she could live a life of her own. Unaware that one day she would save the world that she belonged in, as well as the world she would grow up in. Unaware that she had survived a curse that should have killed her, that the wizard who had cast it was the most evil warlock to ever walk the face of the Earth, that she'd accidentally defeated him.
It's funny, thought Minerva, how peaceful she is. One day she'll be a legend. I wouldn't be surprised if they make a Rose Potter Day in the future. Books will even be written about her. Every child in our world will know her name! And these foolish Muggles will never truly know how special she is.
Sighing, Professor Minerva McGonagal turned back into a cat and trotted off into the night.
As daylight slowly approached, Rose Potter slept on, unaware of the adventures - and destiny - that awaited her.
Thanks for reading! Now, off to my TV. The Oscars are on, and I must watch :)
