Rose had risen particularly early on the morning of the third of January. She spent the hour before the rest of the house arose to repack her trunk with the clothing she only wore when she was hanging out with the muggles in London. Her 'new' garb included tights in various colours, some exceedingly short skirts, waistcoats, swing dresses and corsets. She also packed her favourits DMs and sling back high heels. She almost forgot her makeup bag, but remembered when she spotted her bag of various piercings in the wardrobe. She was ready to show the school the real her, but was cautious about overly worrying her mother - so she had decided she would take everything with her and pick a random day during the term when she felt like a change. She smirked to herself as she thought of the shock instore for Hogwarts.
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After giving her mother the perfunctory kiss on the cheek outside the station she practically ran to the platform. She stopped briefly before the entrance, then sauntered over and leant against the post. She slid through quickly and easily, and made her way to the shinig engine. Ever since the first train journey, Rose liked to sit up by the driver. Archie didn't mind, he liked the company. Rose thought he was probably glad to encounter someone with whom he could share either intelligent conversation or silence, rather than just pestering him about how far it was until they reached Hogwarts. In her third year she had got sick of the interruptions and made a sign for the door of his cabin that showed how long the rest of the journey would last and changed the closer to Hogwarts they got. Archie had been very impressed with her spell work and, while bored between term times, had discussed it with Filch.
Filch was another one of Rose's aquaintances, one of the few she would acknowledge knew something about her. Aberforth Filch was the son of Argus and Irma (nee Pince) Filch, so had grown up knowing three things Rose thought were vital to decency, understanding the rules, caring about books and having an intuition as to when you could break the rules (and get away with it).
Hogwarts had been both a pleasant and yet socially invasive place to grow up, especially when you were the son of the two most hated members of staff, and took over the library after finishing seventh year early. However, those who knew him realised that there were benefits to having such a position, and he had no qualms about taking advantage of them. When he had found a third year Rose inside the teacher's section of the library (none of the students knew about the teacher's library, it was a closely guarded secret that Abe hadn't learnt until the beginning of his seventh year) he didn't drag her off to Headmistress Sprout, give her detention or even remove points. He sat down next to her and began discussing the elemets of alchemic arithmacy and the work of the late Nicholas Flamel that was the subject of the particular book she had been reading. They had quickly learnt the value of each other's aquiantance (dare they call it -friendship-?).
She gave a dutiful wave at the amassed clan that had arrived at Kings Cross Station for their bi-annual 'oh-look-it's-a-train-remember-when-we-were-on-that-train-have-fun-on-the-train-darlings-don't-get-into-trouble-oh-we-can't-really-talk-but-who-cares-see-you-in-a-year' meeting. Weaving her way steadily through the crowds, she slipped onto the train and navigated the almost empty carriages until she reached the front. "Hello again Archie," she murmured as she sank into a chair in the empty (as always) teacher accomodation.
She was shaken from her thought induced stupor at the distinct sound of someone collapsing against the door of the cabin. She propelled onto her feet to go and check which student had become the victim of a start-of-term amateur duel. What she wasn't expecting to happen as she ripped the door open was one shaking, obviously feverish and grey skinned Scorpius Malfoy to roll onto her feet. "What on earth did you do?" She screamed at sixth year Slytherin, Ali King, who stood frozen in panic. Slightly more worried, Rose pushed away the notions of what she would later have to do and examined the now almost convulsing boy at her feet. She noted his symptoms in her ever eager brain along with the steel grey of his twitching eyes and silky smoothness of his hair as it brushed his damp forehead.
"What are his symptoms?" she asked. Impatiently. "Well," the annoying female dithered and Rose wondered whether it was because of cold, stupidity, or nervousness due to her own presence. Most probably, King was intimidated - Rose had a reputation for being a loner. She sat alone, worked alone, ate alone - she did not require unnecessary company. Rose thought this was a pretty rudimentary idea - but occasionally some people refused her requests to leave her alone. So naturally, she hexed them well into the next month. Obviously, some people (ok, the majority of wizarding society) learnt that the only time sweet Rose Weasley became slightly sour was when people ignored her (often repeated) requests for their absence in her prescence.
The girl took a deep breath and started to babble. "He said he had a headache earlier, on the platform, and was feeling queasy about an hour ago. About ten minutes ago he complained that our talking was hurting his head. Obviously we quieted down, but then Petunia tried to climb on top of him," she paused and grimaced, "and he shoved her cheating ass onto the floor. He stood up to leave the apartment and swayed, which got us worried, then followed through the door after Petunia flounced out. I was worried he was ill, so I followed him down the corridor, to be safe you know?" she seemed to look for comfirmation so Rose nodded her head absently.
"He was just half-way down the train when he stumbled and walked into a wall. I ran up to him and had to convince him to come down here to see if any of the staff could help him. He refused to go see a seventh year, even Amun Zabini, so I thought I'd drag him here to see if a member of staff would help. By the time we were nearly here he was shivering like crazy, burning up, retching in the back of his throat and I was completely supporting his weight. I set him down for a second when he promised me he could support himself while I opened the first door. Then he stumbled through and collapsed on your door."
She looked at Rose as she knelt next to Malfoy, doing basic examinations. "Well?" her voice rose several unnecessary octaves, "Aren't you going to get a teacher?" Rose looked up, thoroughly irritated. "I assure you, I am a more than adequate healer." The girl looked about to protest when Malfoy started coughing. Springing into action, Rose cast several diagnostic charms, then breathed before reciting a spell she had learnt over the holidays. The spell cooled the patient down, while targetting any foreign antibodies and heating them up until they died.
Malfoy promptly sat up and vomited over his friend's shoes. "Sorry about that," Rose wasn't quite sure why she was apologising for Malfoy's inability to direct his vomit elsewhere, "Malfoy, come on. Oh, and stay conscious if you can." His friend was stood in shock, staring at her feet. "Merlin! Get a grip! Evanesco. Now, Malfoy – when we get to school a suggest you skip the feast," no, she didn't (just) say that to put off the kiss "and head straight to Madame Clearwater in the hospital wing. You're recovering from a quite nasty curse which set your magic out of wack. It can be fatal, but I've cast a stasis spell on the infected tissues, so you'll be fine. You're lucky - it can lead to difficulties with spell casting if left untreated any longer, death after an extended period. For some reason, though, the counter charm is illegal for a unofficially trained healer – so though I could treat you, doing so would cause me unnecessary hassle."
Malfoy looked dazed as Rose lifted him into a sitting position against the wall. She looked to his friend. What was her name again? Oh yeah, "Now Ali, I'm thinking you might want to take him to Zabini or Leveque. There's nothing much they can do, but this would be better if done officially. Just tell them to tell Madame Clearwater that the 'liberam praetorium magi' counter curse will be satisfactory." She sensed Malfoy shift.
"You said I'd been hexed?" Rose nodded.
"Yes, the 'infelix magicae' curse. About three days before the end of last term I think. It was either Peter Finnegan-Thomas, seventh year Ravenclaw, or Mary-Lynnette Patil-Perks, first year Hufflepuff. Probably not the Ravenclaw, a) he wants to be taken on as an apprentice for charms and b) he'd realise hexing a Malfoy wasn't the smartest idea." She waited for her deductions to register.
"Wait, you think a first year Hufflepuff almost killed me?"
"Yes they're suprisingly vindictive when you threaten or insult them. I believe, it was actually her older brother you insulted." Malfoy looked at her confused. "Two years ago? No? you should keep track of the people who might have a grudge against you. You humiliated him in front of pretty much the whole school." Still he looked as if he had no idea what she was talking about. "You beat the best seventh year duellist into the dust in a tournemont. And said, and I quote, "It wasn't that hard". Oh come on, doesn't this ring any bells?" Malfoy still looked non-plussed. "you disarmed him and in the process flung him across the great hall."
His eyes lit in rememberance. "Ohhh, I remember that! That was why she tried to kill me?"
"No. I don't think she knew it would kill you. She must have only known it would affect your magic, though I would wonder where she learnt that spell, if I didn't know about the Patil-Perks extensive library. Now, go away." And with that, she turned to the driver and began discussing the impact of the introduction muggle technology to the six Goblin Wars between 1839 and 1912.
Though she could tell Malfoy was affronted by her blunt dismissal, he hid it well as is friend supported him on their way back down the train towards the prefect compartment. She looked at Archie and sighed.
