Harry was let out of the hospital wing just in time to go home for Yule. They were lucky that Hogwarts ended in time for them to celebrate Yule – it was on the 21st this year. They met Sirius with a tackle on the platform, apparating directly to the Manor.
Rose gasped at the sight. She'd never gotten used to the look of Potter Manor over Yule and hoped she never did. It looked incredible – its delicate, gliding stones sheltered with a blanket of snow, icicles gleaming in the sun. As they walked up to the front doors, an evergreen wreath hung from the door, a small bell at its center. It gave a soft, clear chime as they opened the door, the bells specially made to synergize with the energy of Yule and bring the area's magic into harmony. The witchlights illuminating the hallways had strings of ice and snowflakes hanging from them. In the corner of the living room, an enormous pine tree stood, fairies sitting and twittering upon its branches. At the top of the tree was another witchlight, this one charmed to look like the sun.
On the night of the 21st, they burned the Yule log at sunset. Andromeda, Ted Tonks, and Dora (who'd lost a bet with Rose when the latter was eight, and thereafter had allowed Rose to call her Dora) had flooed over. The Yule log was oak this year, for strength and wisdom. Last year, with Dora applying to the aurors, it had been pine for prosperity. They stood outside in the frigid winter air, a gentle falling of snow dusting their hair, making a circle around the Yule log. Sirius set it alight with a silent incendio, and together they prayed to the sunset as the Yule log burned.
"The longest night has come once more,
the sun is set, and darkness fallen.
The trees are bare, the earth asleep,
and the skies are cold and black.
Yet tonight we rejoice, in this longest night,
embracing the darkness that enfolds us.
We welcome the night and all that it holds,
as the light of the stars shines down."
Then, Rose as youngest, began the first line of the second prayer:
"I am grateful for that which I have."
Harry continued:
"I am not sorrowful for that which I do not."
Dora:
"I have more than others, less than some, but regardless,"
"I am blessed with what is mine," everyone finished. Dora laughed and turned her hair a blinding white. The fire of the log had flared when they'd begun to speak. Now, as their prayers ended and the sun descended beneath the horizon, the log had burnt down to a stump already. As it smoldered, Sirius carefully levitated it into a box for next Yule, where the last bit would be burned.
They went back to the manor, talking and laughing. There was also the issue of –
"What do you mean you haven't played any pranks?"
"I think Snape would have me in detention for the rest of my life if I did," Harry said idly.
"Not if you don't get caught," Sirius argued.
"He'd assume it was me anyway," Harry had sighed.
"No, he'd assume it was the Weasley twins," Rose corrected, grinning. "Harry's just lazy."
"Oi! I don't see you playing any pranks."
"Au contraire, I'm in the middle of the best one. I am, after all, a snake in badger's clothes."
That had gotten a round of laughs. Sirius had resumed hounding Harry on the subject of pranks until the elves brought in the feast, and then they all fell silent for a bit while they ate.
When she got back to school, she trained. She was devouring books on healing, rousing herself before dawn to run around the Quidditch pitch. She found that core of iron the Dursleys had forged and Voldemort refined and did not break. She started missing meals in the Great Hall, but that was fine – the kitchens were less than a minute away from her dorms, after all. She brewed Invigoration Draft for energy in the Room of Requirement and drank as often as she dared, toeing the line of addiction. She noticed the pallor of her skin and spent three hours forcing her magic to re-learn how to cast a glamour.
$You are suffering, Red One$, Macha had hissed.
$Harry was hurt$, she whispered. $He nearly died and all I could do was watch$
$So you kill yourself in his place?$
$I'm not dying$
$Your body is not dying but your soul is withering. He would not want this for you if he knew$
$Don't tell him$, Rose had ordered immediately. She felt the magic of the familiar bond tighten; Macha could not disobey a direct order.
(she hoped Macha would forgive her)
It didn't matter anyway. It took Harry a week to notice, and then another week to do more than hound her. He dragged her to the hospital wing and demanded Madam Pomphrey look at her.
(she had fooled everyone, even Sprout, but she'd never been able to fool Harry)
"Foolish girl," Madam Pomphrey had whispered. "How can you protect your brother when you can barely take care of yourself?"
Rose wondered if Madam Pomphrey had been a Slytherin. She'd homed in awfully quickly on the reason for her exhaustion, although maybe it had been obvious.
"I'm not ill," Rose said stubbornly. "I've been checking myself every day with an enuntio and I'm fine."
Madam Pomphrey's eyes narrowed. "You're learning healing?"
"I don't want to be helpless again," Rose said. "I'm not a fighter."
(she had been, once, but she'd seen too much blood spilled, seen too many of her friends die)
(she wasn't afraid to kill but knew that every life she took was someone's child, someone's friend. No one went through life untouched)
(she was tired)
"Which books have you been reading?"
Rose told her. Madam Pomphrey pursed her lips. "Adderworth's book isn't worth the parchment it's written on. Zheng's better. Wait a moment-" she hurried back to her office, ignoring Harry's question, and came back a moment later holding a book. Rose made to grab it, but Madam Pomphrey held it out of her reach.
"I have conditions, Miss Potter. You will see me every Friday after your last class. You will miss no more than two meals in the Great Hall each week, spend at least one hour a day relaxing, and if I tell you to rest, you will rest. Adhere to these conditions and not only will I recommend you books, I will consider further tuition."
It wasn't even a decision. Poppy Pomphrey was one of the most celebrated healers of the modern world.
"So mote," Rose said.
"So mote," Madam Pomphrey smiled. It was a predator's smile.
Sensing her vow, her magic thrummed.
"Finally going to show me where you've been hiding?" Harry teased. There was still a tension between them – Rose hoped that this would help lessen it. They were on the seventh floor, in front of the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls ballet.
She smiled and walked three times in front of the blank stretch of wall across the tapestry.
I need a place to practice dueling.
I need a place to practice dueling.
I need a place to practice dueling.
A door melted into existence. Rose took great joy in Harry's awed expression.
"Sirius and Remus never said anything about this!"
"That's because they didn't know," Rose said smugly. "I asked one of the house elves – they call it the Come and Go Room."
(it had taken her six tries to be able to open the door without being overwhelmed by the roar of fiendfyre, the memory of screams, the feeling of a broomstick gripped in her sweaty hands - )
(Crabbe had died here, she thought. Had died, will die, might die)
They stepped into the room. It was wide, with a tall ceiling, well-lit with witchlights floating above them. There were a series of mirrors floating around on the far end. Their size and speed were variable, as was their curvature. The goal was to aim for the mirrors, which would reflect your spell back at you. She wasn't sure how it worked – they seemed to get more difficult the more she improved.
Harry's mouth was hanging open. "This is incredible," he breathed.
"Isn't it? I've been practicing my dueling here."
"You better be showing me this to invite me to join."
"But of course, big brother! Come, let us duel!"
"… You're ridiculous, Rosie."
(she held back, but still wiped the floor with him)
(Harry had eyed her and said next time, don't go easy on me)
The look on Rose's face when she saw Filch scrubbing at the wall outside the library was nothing short of evil.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Filch," she said shyly, fiddling with the strap of her bag.
Filch looked up and glared at her. "Potter," he grunted.
"Sorry to bother you," she said, biting on the inside of her cheek. "But I was wondering if you got my present? And I wanted to ask what you celebrated over the holidays, since I wasn't sure."
His voice didn't soften but his eyes did. "I did. Yule."
Rose lit up and wasn't even faking it this time. "Oh, that's wonderful! I hope you enjoy it, Mr. Filch, and happy late Yule!"
He grunted but Rose beamed at him anyways as she practically skipped to the library. She hadn't thought to get Filch on her side in her past life. Silly of her – she knew how the downtrodden latched onto any bit of kindness, after all. She hoped he wouldn't find out about her arrangement with Peeves – perhaps she could play it off as the innocent little girl who'd been tricked by the mean old poltergeist, but it'd damage her in his eyes anyways and she wasn't willing to risk it. Just because she had a backup plan didn't mean she wanted to use it, after all.
She found Theodore and Greengrass at their usual table and slid in across from them, pulling out a roll of parchment for her History of Magic essay.
A shadow fell over her. Rose studiously ignored it, until a hand reached over her head and made to grab her essay. She twisted in her seat and scowled at Zabini. He ignored her, face twisting into a sneer.
"You can't possibly think that Alfred of Wessex's ascension to the throne contributed to the famine of 892."
Rose narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh? Whyever not? Have you looked at his tax policies?"
"Dragons burned down half the country, I really don't think tax policies – "
Across from them, Theodore and Greengrass were trying to hush them.
"Well the policies made things worse, didn't they – "
"If they did, the effect was so small as to be negligible – "
"And how did you figure that – "
"This is the last time I'm throwing you out before I get you all banned for good!" Madam Pince hissed, descending upon them like the dragon that'd once burnt half the country. Rose glared at Zabini, packing her things in a huff.
"Told you," Theodore muttered.
"Don't pout at me, Potter, I was kicked out too – "
"Only because you insisted on having an argument with me!"
"It takes two to argue."
They glared at each other for a moment before Rose started giggling. She sent Filch a "Goodbye Mr. Filch!" as they left.
"That's the most ridiculous way I've ever gotten myself kicked out before," she confessed.
Greengrass' eyebrows raised in interest. "Perfect Potter has gotten kicked out of the library before?"
Rose made a face. "Don't call me that, but yes, my friends and I trend towards gossip as inevitably as the universe trends towards chaos."
Zabini squinted. "Isn't that a muggle theory?"
"Well, seeing as I learned it at a muggle school, I'm not surprised. And how would you know about that anyway?"
"I read, Potter, not every Slytherin thinks muggles are beasts."
"I know," Rose said, biting her lip guiltily. "I didn't mean to imply – it came out wrong. Sorry," she added apologetically.
There was an awkward pause, before Zabini said, "Well, don't do it again."
"Yes, sir!" Rose said, giving him a salute. She liked Zabini – he was funny and arguing with him was some of the best fun she'd had all year. "Er – where are we going?"
"I wanted to ask you about Charms, Rose," Theodore said. "I've got a study space in the dungeons, if you want to join."
Greengrass and Zabini gave him wide eyed looks. Theodore rolled his eyes dismissively.
"Don't look at me like that, you know she's trustworthy."
Rose sent them a questioning glance as they headed towards the dungeons. Greengrass took it upon herself to explain.
"Every Slytherin is expected to find and personalize their own study space in the dungeons," she said primly. "It's a great honor to be shown another's space, and an even greater honor for non-Slytherins."
"It's really rare," Zabini emphasized. "Not even siblings always know the other's spaces."
"Oh," Rose said softly. "Thank you, Theodore. You won't regret this, I promise."
Theodore grinned. "You should know, though, that if you and Blaise get into another argument, I'm kicking both of you out for good."
"Absolutely no history discussions," Rose vowed. Zabini looked down his nose at her snobbily.
"It will be difficult to endure your ignorance, but if I must."
"Shut up, Zabini."
The path Theodore took twisted and wound its way through the dungeons. They passed the student potions labs, abandoned classrooms, something that looked suspiciously like cells, before finally –
"Here we are!" Theodore said with a sarcastic flourish. He pulled aside a tapestry of Wendelin the Weird and pushed on a brick behind it. The brick sank into the wall, and a whole section of it rippled and vanished, revealing a medium-sized alcove with a window, desk, and several chairs.
"How on earth did you find this place?" Rose said, eyebrows raised. She realized in retrospect that she probably could've found something like this for her friends, instead of going through Professor Sprout.
"My father told me," Theodore said shortly. There was an edge to his voice that told her to change the subject.
"It's interesting," she said. "Want to see if I can find you a sofa?"
Greengrass frowned. "We've looked through most of the abandoned classrooms. Any sofas that might've been there were either too old or already taken by the upper years."
"You sure about that?" she grinned. "Mimsy!"
At her name, the house elf appeared with a crack. "Miss Rosie is calling for Mimsy?"
"Yes," Rose smiled. "You see, my friends have got this alcove, but they couldn't find any sofas or cushions for it. I was wondering if you would be so kind as to – "
Mimsy beamed. "Absolutely, Miss Rosie!" She snapped her fingers and a plush green sofa and loveseat appeared, along with a low table.
"Thank you ever so much, Mimsy," Rose gushed. "How's Mittens?"
"Mittens is doing well, Miss Rosie!" Mimsey beamed. "She is catching many mouses again!"
"Brilliant," she grinned. "Well, I let you go back to your work now – "
The elf disappeared with another crack, leaving only the stunned faces of three Slytherins before her.
"… I thought the house elves didn't obey students," Theodore said at last, eyes wide.
"Mimsy's a friend," Rose grinned. "And friends help each other out."
"You're friends with a house elf?" Greengrass asked skeptically.
"Her cat had kittens and a friend and I took one in," she explained.
"Of course," Zabini said dryly. "A house elf friend. Why didn't we think of that?"
Rose pulled a face. "Don't get snappy with me just because you never thought of it."
"No arguments," Theodore said firmly. "Rose, thank you for the sofa, and send my compliments to… "
"Mimsy," she said helpfully.
"… Mimsy," he said. "Daphne, Blaise, stop interrogating her and enjoy it."
Rose giggled. Greengrass rolled her eyes.
"Yes, mum," Greengrass sighed.
"And," Theodore added, casting a stern look over them. "I think it's time you lot are on a first-name basis, don't you?"
"Yes, mum," Rose sighed in the exact same tone. She and Greengrass looked at each other and giggled.
"Hello, Daphne."
"Hello, Rose."
"Hello, Blaise" Blaise mimicked in a falsetto. "Ow!"
Daphne, tucking her wand away, sent Rose a smirk that she returned.
After that, Blaise and Daphne began openly greeting her in the corridors and before class, ignoring the looks they got from everyone else. Rose greeted them back four times as enthusiastically to compensate, often eliciting an eye-roll or two. This open association came in handy one day in late January, when she was heading towards the library for her study group.
"Furnunculus!"
A squeal – high-pitched, feminine, young. Rose was running before she knew what was happening.
Wait, a voice told her just before she rounded the corner. Wait and see what the situation is.
You can't afford to be reckless.
Fine, Rose thought. She peered around the corner and saw a first year Slytherin – Pansy Parkinson? – getting hexed by Cameron Ogden, a fifth-year Hufflepuff.
"Ogden," she called. "What's going on?"
Ogden turned, grinning. "Potter. Want to help me teach this snake a lesson?"
"A lesson in what?" she frowned in apparent confusion.
A flicker of incomprehension. Ogden frowned at her.
"Well, her father's a Death Eater," he said, as if speaking to a particularly stupid child.
"But – but Parkinson herself – she can't be that bad, surely? I – I'm friends with Blaise Zabini, and he's – well, if Blaise is alright, then I don't see why Parkinson - " she admitted shamefully, calling a flush to her face and biting her lip.
Ogden looked exasperated and a little uncomfortable. "Listen, Potter, you know she's probably been raised the same way – "
"She's in my year, though," Rose said. "I don't – she seems alright. It just… it feels wrong." She looked up at Ogden with big, imploring green eyes, and he crumbled.
"Ugh – alright – fine, Potter, you – " he sighed exasperatedly. "Just let me know if one of them annoys you, yeah?"
"I will," she said shyly. "Thanks, Ogden."
He shook his head and stowed his wand away, brushing her as he passed. She knew he thought she was a naïve little girl who'd one day come to her senses, but that was fine. She couldn't afford to make enemies right now – once she'd built up her reputation, she'd be able to take a more heavy-handed approach.
She dispelled the jinxes on Parkinson and held out a hand. The other girl glared at her.
"I don't need your pity, Potter," she spat, getting up herself.
Rose shrugged, dropping her naïve-little-girl mask, her perfect-Hufflepuff one sliding seamlessly in place. "Not pity, just a sense of fairness," she said, flashing a smile. "See you around, Parkinson."