Chapter I
For the last five years of living in a Hogwarts dormitory, everyone knew that only Rose Weasley found the idea of living with Leslie Yule as completely unbearable. Of course, among those that she'd ever complained to, James Potter was always the first to tell her the blunt truth of her exaggeration, rather than mechanically nodding and silently agreeing like everyone else. "I'm sure you're just being dramatic," he had muttered this Saturday morning in the Common Room, his wand hovering over an object she didn't even bother asking about. One of his latest bullshit pranks, she assumed. Unlike her grandmother, she knew there was always a point in which one should just give up trying to purify someone's personality quirks. Her father wasn't going to be any less prejudiced against aristocratic purebloods, just as her cousin wasn't going to be any less mischevious. Questioning his motives does become tiresome after a while. "You seriously are a dramatic person. Has anyone ever told you that?"
He held an object up to his eyes. If Rose wasn't mistaken, the tiny quart of Muggle blood running through her veins informed her that the object was a charmed, distorted image of a... paper airplane. She inhaled in a few atoms of oxygen before quickly closing her mouth again, as if changing her mind about speaking. James sensed this and grinned, the corners of his mouth perking obnoxiously upward. "That's right, little cousin," he finished, running off the topic of Leslie. "Don't even ask."
The slight morning flashback caused Rose to smile wryly, now that she sat at the foot of her dormitory bed a couple of hours later. Specks of rain were hitting the magnificent glass windows, and obscuring the view of the sweeping, green mountains. The pounding water proved to block out the sounds of Gryffindors conversing in voices off the top of their lungs, downstairs. Obviously, Quidditch practice was over. "Too lazy to do a silencing charm on the windows?" Leslie asked, sweeping into the room. "Here, I could do it for you. I have my wand right in my pocket." She paused to reach inside of her robes, pulling out a short, velvety, rose-colored excused of a wand. "I'm not exactly sure if I remember the silencing charm for windows, but I could try..."
"That won't be necessary," Rose cut across in haste. She folded her black rimmed, square glasses and stuffed them into the pocket of her robes. The bed made a slight squeak as she sat up from it and crossed over to the windows. "I actually like the sound of the rain against the windows. Less distracting than the noise downstairs." Rose pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders -- the rain was creating a slight chill. "Blocks out the nonstop chatter about the last Wonski Faint." She gestured toward the door, where the voices were growing louder. Leslie was smart enough to know by now that there was no replying to Rose's comments if you didn't agree with them, so she said nothing. She merely stood there, playing with a tendril of her artificially waved hair.
Silences, Rose hated them. "So... are you looking for something? I was just doing my Potions essay." Rose gestured at the books laying across her pillow. At this, Leslie began to look deeply uncomfortable.
"See, that's exactly it," she began to say, her pale cheeks turning a shade of magenta. "James wanted me to call you downstairs. There having a pre-Quidditch party, since the match was rescheduled for tomorrow, and everyone is -- er -- wondering where you were." She frowned, dropping her hands to both sides of her hips now. Rose heaved a sigh, as if sympathetic for the idiot who ever decided she would be convinced by Leslie. "He needs to talk to you about something, Rose. It's -- It's important, trust me."
"It can't be that important," Rose countered, returning to her bed, and picking up her quill. A sure gesture that she wasn't going to listen to her, obviously. "Or else he would come here. Don't you think? Leslie, I'm not stupid enough to not understand that he just used that as an excuse for me to come downstairs and join that ridiculous party. And then I'm going to be forced to drink a few butterbeers, and you know what butterbeer does to my stomach." Rose's nose scrunched. "I'm sensitive to alcohol."
"Butterbeer doesn't have any alcohol in it. Only house elves are affected by butter--"
"Oh, forget it!" Rose exclaimed finally, heat radiating from her ears. "You know what I mean. Tell him he could shove it, will you?"
"Fine, I will," Leslie replied, pursing her lips. "But he's not going to like it, you know." Abruptly, she turned to the noisy window. "I suddenly remembered how the Silencing Charm works, by the way. Silencio!" She whipped out her wand and directed a spell at the only peice of material stopping one from falling out of the castle. Then, she proceeded to stalk to the door, and subtly slam it behind her. Damn her, Rose thought, frustrated. The Common Room conversations were louder than ever, and Rose happened to leave her wand downstairs, near the fireplace.
After that, all attempts to form a coherent sentence on the yellowing peice of parchment proved fruitless. "The solution to a Sleep Deprivation Potion all began with..." Saying the sentence aloud didn't help as much as she thought it would. Instead, it made her feel even more mindless for not only forgetting the person who invented the Sleep Deprivation Potion (a lesson the fifth years had went over this recent Thursday and Friday), but for forgetting to check out the book she needed to figure out the answer. Of course, she couldn't risk walking downstairs to sneak off to the library: many would find her presence a perfect oppritunity to find yet another person to party with. And the truth of the matter was, there was no way Rose could continue with this essay until she figured out exactly who the man who created the Sleep Deprivation Potion was. All she needed was that name to trigger a string of information from her memory.
As much as she still hated to admit it, Leslie was smart. Doris, Hania, and Simon were not. Naturally, there was only one solution to this highly evaluated dilemma... and it wasn't as if she did something like this everyday... Taking one last look at the closed door of her dormitory, and grabbing her wand to immediately perform a simple charm to lock it, Rose tip-toed over to Leslie's bed and scanned through the stacks of books upon it. She grinned with satisfaction as she reached the book she was looking for: Potions for Year Five.
The index was the quickest way to find the answer. Her fingers flipped through the pages, and her eyes constantly flicked upward, as if paranoid that the word 'Alohomora!' was going to be shouted, and Leslie would walk in at any moment. She probably wouldn't mind as much as Rose personally imagined, but being found flipping through one's books required a great deal of explanation. Explaining herself was one of the first things on Rose's short list of things she was bad at. Going about in a sneaky way was much easier sometimes -- a characteristic that was shamefully Slytherin.
"Rose, I don't care what you say! You didn't show up for the last party either!" James Potter's voice boomed throughout her room, and his fists vibrated against the wooden molecules of her door. She jumped, alarmed, letting the book drop from her hands. Hopefully, he would assume that the book was only hers.
"What are you doing?" Rose demanded, backing away slowly from Leslie's bed. "You're not supposed to be up here! How on Earth did you get up the stairs? I think I'm going to have to address the Headmaster about this issu-"
"To hell with issues," James replied, before she could finish. "Don't be worried about that now! We're tired of you being holed up in your room! Even Hugo is here.. and if you don't come out of this room in ten seconds--"
"Oh, shut up, James," Rose replied, grinning despite herself. "You know you can't do anything. You might have been able to come up the stairs, but there's no way that you'll ever be able to actually come into the girls dormitory." She added a thought, as if uncertain with her last word. "Well, even if you did, I would have to report you, you know..."
"Nine..." He began to count.
"James, don't be ridiculous..."
"Eight..."
"James, you're annoying me, you know that? I need to put my things away."
"Seven..."
"Funny how you actually think I'm going to listen to you."
"Four..."
"What? You skipped two numbers!"
"Two..."
"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" Rose trudged toward the door, coming face to face with James Potter's hazel eyes and messy black hair that looked as if it hadn't been cut in about three years. She would have tried to muster a smile, but she was far too annoyed: he had won. Her brother Hugo was beside him, his dark brown hair and doe-like eyes watching her kindly. Rose wish that she could have reciprocated his lifted spirit. She sighed and followed behind James, who she hadn't noticed was already clad with what suspiciously looked to be a firewhiskey, and her brother, who was waving at a giggling fourth year girl. Rose's eyes flipped over the crowd for Simon's figure.. or maybe even Albus'.
"Hey, where are you going?" James furrowed his eyebrows exaggeratedly. It had just occured to Rose that perhaps her favorite cousin was... drunk. Even Fred standing next to her, who was only yet in his third year, voiced her initial thoughts aloud. "I definitely think he's drunk." Rose turned to him, nodding. Fred continued, a sparkle gracing a carbon copy of his father's blues. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be doing something about this, since you're a pre--"
"Trust me, I would." Rose's response was grim. "But that would ruin the party, wouldn't it? I'm not exactly in the mood to have the whole Gryffindor house hate me."
"Point taken," Fred replied, flipping a lock of red hair from his eyes. "Later, I think someone's expecting me." Fred gestured over toward a black girl waving over at him, her mesmerizingly green eyes seeming anxious. "She's just a friend," Fred added exasperatedly.
"Yeah, yeah..."
"Rose, I was trying to tell you something!" James slurred, pouting. He flung his arms around Leslie's shoulders. Leslie and Rose simultaneously widened their eyes, both for completely different reasons. Oh, I'm definitely going to have to have a talk about this one to him once he's sober, she thought, irritated.
"Why don't you tell her, Leslie?" He cleared his throat, and pulled Leslie closer. Leslie flushed slightly, her hair disheveled. It was obvious to any observer that she wished to be anywhere else but at this place, at this moment. "She probably likes you better than she likes me. Am I right, Rose...?" His smile was sloppy. Rose's ears went red, and she scowled, deciding to walk away from both Leslie and James.
"Today's not my day, James. I'm going to find Simon." As delightful as this idea sounded, it wasn't as easy. Every single student from every single year seemed to be present at the party, all drinking what was either butterbeer or firewhiskey in plastic red cups, and laughing with their personal circle of friends. A group began to form around Fred and the girl he had run off to converse with before, and people were clapping to some form of entertainment that Fred and the girl were providing. Desperate to escape the notice of James and Leslie, Rose managed to disappear into the ever forming semi-circle, standing next to beaming seventh year triplets.
"Fred, ol' boy, let me try next!" One of them pleaded, stepping up about three inches from the crowd, as to make himself known. "I want to see what my live daydream would look like too!"
Rose narrowed her eyes, taking a closer look at what everyone was getting so riled up about. "Live daydream...?" She murmured aloud, taking her glasses out from her pocket and placing them back onto her face. Now that the dream-like vision before her was clearer, she could see a clone of Fred Weasley skipping in place through a mult-colored field of grass alongside a unicorn, while the real Fred Weasley stood on the side lines, watching the highly amused crowd with a certain air of smugness.
"That's something I haven't seen in Uncle George's shop yet!" Rose informed in a matter-of-fact tone, raising her eyebrows. Admittingly, she was impressed. "Maybe your dad should know about this...!"
Fred's eyes met Rose's. He looked pleasantly surprised at her version of a compliment. As the daydream began to end, he tossed piece of a cotton candy-like substance at one of the triplets pleading for a turn before. Incredulously, the triplet devoured the sweeter version of the usual tablets that The Weasley Wizard Weezes usually used, and watched with astonishment as his subconscious dream come to life. "Wicked!" He yelled, to show his approval.
"Are all you Weasleys and Potters' geniuses?" A familiar voice began to complain behind her ear. "It's not fair. The lot of you are overshadowing us Gryffindors with hidden talent."
Rose whipped around.
"Oh Simon, thank goodness." Rose appeared truly relieved at such a warm and familiar sight. She hadn't been able to spot Simon throughout this whole Saturday anywhere -- though she probably should have guessed that Simon would be at Quidditch practice, considering she was one of the appointed Chasers on the team.
Rose made a face. "I suddenly just realized that you look positively disgusting." Simon curtseyed sarcastically in reply, and consciously smoothed down her brown, dirt encrusted locks with one hand. "Maybe you should go take a shower..."
"...And miss out on all the fun?" She theatrically dared her face to look horrified at the thought. "Showers take so very long for me. By the time I come back all, all sparkly and clean, the party will be over." She retrieved a butterbeer can from one of the near tables and snapped open the top. The oxygen being released from the can's interior filled up the temporary silence that Simon and Rose had created. While Rose was awkwardly quiet, searching her mind for something new to bring into conversation, Simon was thoughtful, as if trying to remember a piece of information she was trusted to tell Rose about.
"Oh, that's right!" Simon's exclamation was sudden.
Rose raised a brow inquisitively. "What?"
"The Headmaster wanted me to tell you something." Her response was simple. Frustrated, Rose used her hands to gesture that she wanted Simon to continue.
"Oh right! He wanted me to tell you that he wants you up and at his office about an hour before breakfast." She took a loud sip from her butterbeer, looking positively content. Rose, on the other hand, suddenly felt nauseous.
"Oh no!" Her cry reflected her newfound panic. "It's not even a school day tomorrow! Why would he want me to be up so early?" Simon knew the question was rhetoric, because Rose immediately proceeded to glance at her watch of moving planets afterward -- the same watch that her father once owned. "So early! Right now it's already thirty minutes after midnight!" She turned her gaze toward the girls dormitory stairs, as if planning to make a beeline for it.
"I have to go to bed, Simon," Rose said firmly. She wasn't going to be talked out of anything now. To stay up any later would mean that she would never wake up in the morning. "Good night."
"Yeah, good night." Rose noticed that Simon sounded a bit downcast, although she had a feeling that such was all probably an act to get Rose guilty enough to consider staying. "Agoodthingyou'releavingtoo."
"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that." Rose whirled around, slightly hurt. Did Simon say what I thought she said? she mused questioningly, hoping that her ears were playing tricks on her.
"I said that I hope you had a good night's sleep!" Simon laughed nervously. "What did you think I said?"
Rose shook her head, finally convinced that she was hearing things. "Nothing, nothing," Rose replied, taking off her glasses momentarily to rub her eyes. "Never mind, then." She placed her spectacles back onto the bridge of her nose, and smiled at Simon one last time.
Rose didn't notice the scowl gracing the features of Simon's face as she walked away, and she didn't notice that suddenly, James and Leslie were nowhere to be found.