During her first week, Rose had set up a simple motion-detecting ward configuration and carved it onto an edge of the trapdoor. It had never activated, meaning that either the Mirror of Erised was already in place, or Dumbledore had another way of accessing that last chamber. Personally, Rose suspected the latter. Though the trials were simple enough that a trio of first years had bypassed them, they still ate valuable time. Rose supposed that was what he'd been going for in her past life – maybe he'd planned on trapping Voldemort in that final chamber to get proof of his continued existence. With the lure of both prophecy child and Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts, it was an undeniably clever plan that she'd admire if it hadn't put hundreds of children in danger. And if the prophecy child hadn't been her brother.

The night after her last exam, she felt it activate. She sent a silencing charm at Susan's bed curtains in a well-practiced motion, put on her shoes and robes, and ran.

"I wondered whether I'd be seeing you here, Miss Potter," Quirrell said pleasantly. "Though I must confess I expected your brother."

Rose swallowed. This was quite possibly the stupidest thing she'd ever done. It was stupid and reckless, and Sirius was going to kill her if Harry didn't get there first but –

She had to know.

"No offense, Professor," Rose said, keeping her voice steady as her heart pumped adrenaline through her veins. Every instinct she had screamed at her to run; it took everything she had to refuse. "But I'm not really here for you."

At that, he turned. His eyes had gone cold. They glowed a familiar red and she felt a spike of horror rip through her. There was no face on the back of Quirrell's turban. She didn't know if there was a Quirrell at all. She stared at the patch of skin between his eyes.

"I'd appreciate if you would explain that, Miss Potter."

She straightened. What difference did it make? She was here, she was facing Voldemort. Albeit differently than she had last time, but she'd still seen her mother craft her protection. She put her faith in Lily Potter and soldiered on. "Harry tells me everything, you know. He told me his scar hurt during the Welcoming Feast and he felt something knocking against his shields. He thought it was Snape. I disagreed."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Snape is a Slytherin. He was so openly antagonistic to Harry that I couldn't believe he'd do a thing against him. Harry thought Snape had saved him because there were witnesses."

Terrifyingly, Quirrell – no, Voldemort – smiled. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering, P-Professor Quirrell?" His eyes sharpened. "Only you and Severus, it would seem. I must confess I'm rather surprised you weren't in Slytherin, Miss Potter. You seem far more Slytherin than Hufflepuff."

"The Hat would agree."

"And you don't?"

"No. Everyone trusts a Hufflepuff, Professor." Rose was horrified to find herself enjoying the conversation. This man had killed her parents. He'd killed dozens, hundreds, countless innocents. But he was clever and witty and was the consummate Slytherin.

(she had always liked Slytherins)

Voldemort laughed. "Are you here to stop me, Miss Potter? I find myself reluctant to kill you; you're unexpectedly amusing."

Rose licked her lips. "I actually wanted to ask you some questions."

His eyes gleamed and grew brighter. She could feel his magic now, seductive and familiar, heavy in the air, but this Voldemort was holding a civil conversation with her. Her Voldemort had screamed and snarled and taunted, but this one watched and waited and smiled. There were no monologues. She suspected that this Voldemort would not have given her back her wand in the graveyard. "Go on, then. Ask away."

(or perhaps not? Why was he reluctant to kill her? When had reluctance ever stopped him before?)

(how well did he know her? How much had he seen?)

"Why do you let your followers kill muggleborns?"

His smiled widened. She knew he'd noticed the way she'd phrased her question. "I suspect you know the answer to that already."

"Because you need power. In our world, most of that is held by purebloods. I don't think you believe in pureblood supremacy, but you let them think you did so you had their support."

"Very good, Miss Potter," Voldemort said, giving her a slow, sarcastic clap. "Yes, the killing of muggleborns was a necessary evil."

"'There is no good or evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it.'"

Voldemort laughed. "I see you've found my old articles.

"Yes, they were… interesting, to say the least. But there's still one thing I don't understand: What about my brother's fall? Was that you as well?"

Voldemort tilts his head, considering. "Why do you ask?" From him, they both knew it was practically a confession.

"I want to know why," Rose whispered. She met his eyes. "You saw him lead the ritual on Samhain. You know he might be swayed to your side."

"He's a threat," Voldemort said simply. "You understand, don't you? The best way to neutralize a threat is to kill it before it kills you."

My brother is not an it.

(Voldemort had forgotten that just because she belonged in Slytherin did not mean she didn't belong in Hufflepuff)

His eyes narrowed and she went cold. The thought had drifted through her mind but – how did he – ?

"Your shields are impressive for your age," he said. "But I've been a master of legilimency for longer than you've been alive." He brought his wand down in a sudden slash and Rose dropped into a crouch, but she was too slow and was bounded by his incarcerous anyways. With another flick of his wand, she was levitated upright until she stood in front of the mirror.

"Tell me, Potter," he snarled. "What do you see?"

Now he reminded her of the Voldemort she'd known. It was almost reassuring to see his face twisted in obvious anger and impatience. Had he been acting that whole time, then? Or was this the act?

Focus, she reprimanded herself. She stared into the Mirror of Erised, and saw herself. She looked older – in her thirties, maybe. Harry stood beside her, grinning, Sirius and Remus waving over her shoulder. Her parents were there too, and Hermione, Theodore, Susan, Padma, her friends getting along regardless of House or politics or blood status. The crowd behind them stretched onwards, and she spotted Parvati, Fay Dunbar, Mandy Brocklehurst – her yearmates.

Herself, older. Her family, alive and happy. Hogwarts, united and prejudice-free.

"I see… I see my family," she whispered. She was half-expecting to get the Stone, but no – she didn't want the Stone at all, did she? She knew that if she got it, she wouldn't be able to stop Voldemort from getting it. She twisted her wrist and breathed out a diffindo, cutting her bonds as she fell to the ground. The four feet between them made all the difference – he hadn't expected a firstie to have either the skill or power to break his bonds, the Severing Charm had only just been taught, after all, and the man had gotten complacent and underestimated her.

She sprang to her feet, ducked to the side, yelled a diffindo that he dodged easily but that was fine – she was small and fast and she zigzagged the short distance between them in a burst of speed and lunged, one hand grabbing his wrist to aim it away from her and the other grabbing his face. She'd wanted to block his vision so he couldn't aim at her without risking hitting himself but –

(he had made Harry bleed)

she felt something squishy at the tip of her fingers –

(the Hat would've never put me in a House I didn't belong. I might be more Slytherin, but I choose Hufflepuff)

and pushed.

(because that was what it comes down to: choice)

(what kind of person do I want to be?)

Voldemort screamed. He dropped his wand and tried to push her away, but she dug her fingers in deeper and latched onto the inside of his eye socket. She felt his bones scratch at her arms. She could feel his skin burn at her touch, blackening and cracking open to the flesh beneath. She revelled in his screams.

(he had made Harry bleed)

They burned. Her entire world was pain. She forgot why she was here, who she was fighting, who she was. All she knew was that she couldn't let go.

(she had a core of pure loyalty)

(in both her lives, that had never changed)

She woke up in the study at Potter Manor, Fleamont and Euphemia's empty portrait in front of her. She was sitting in one of the armchairs, a cup of tea steaming in front of her on the desk. Across, in a chair that had once been Fleamont's and then James', Death watched her with those unfathomable eyes.

"This isn't King's Cross," she said dumbly.

"No, it isn't," he agreed. "In your past life, that platform represented change. But you've led a different life here." He tilted his head at the tea. "Drink."

She sipped at it obediently. It was Remus' special blend.

"Am I dead?"

"Almost," Death said. His voice was toneless; he could've been discussing the weather. "But not quite."

Rose stared at her cup. "Oh. Why am I here, then?"

Death tilted his head. "I wanted to see you. Of all my Masters, you're by far the most interesting."

"There are others?"

"Of course. You know there are an infinite number of worlds. It follows that there are an infinite number of people with Peverell blood who have fulfilled the requirements."

"How – ?"

"Hush," Death said absently. He was still studying her over the tips of his fingers. "You know there are easier and less painful ways to die, don't you? If you had wanted to die, all you had to do was ask."

She bristled at the condescending note in his voice. "I'm not suicidal."

"No? Then why in the name of Morrigan would you seek out Voldemort for a conversation? Did you think he'd just let you skip on your merry way afterwards?"

"I had to know if he might be persuaded to spare Harry."

"Oh, you had to, did you?" Death snarled. He was gripping his armrests tightly. The shadows darkened and quivered. "You had to – "

She woke.

There was a glint of gold above her. It was the Snitch! Rose tried to lift her hand to catch it, but she blinked and –

Albus Dumbledore peered down at her. On her other side sat Harry, who looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Pro – "she coughed, her throat dry. Wordlessly, Harry handed over a glass of water and put a straw to her lips. She drank thirstily.

"Thanks, 'arry," she mumbled. Harry said nothing. His face was eerily blank. Worried, Rose gave his hand a hesitant squeeze. "'Re you alright?"

"No," Harry said, very quietly. "I'm not at all alright. I woke up screaming in the middle of the night, feeling like I was being burned alive, and was halfway to the third floor before I crashed into Professor Dumbledore. We went to the forbidden third floor corridor, where he pulled your body off of what appeared to once be our defence professor. I couldn't tell him a thing about anything – I didn't know why you were there or what you'd been trying to do. I'm supposed to be –"

Harry's face crumpled. "I'm supposed to be your brother. You're my twin, my best friend – I thought you were dead and I had no idea how or why – " his voice broke and he curled in on himself, shaking. Rose tried to pull herself up to hug him, but realized she was covered in bandages and could barely move. She and Dumbledore watched as Harry pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose, never letting go of her hand.

He stared at her with miserable green eyes. "Why were you even there in the first place? Were you going after – Dumbledore told me about the Philosopher's Stone - "

"Quirrell was after it," Rose said. "I didn't – I don't want eternal life -"

(Merlin, the irony)

"I don't want riches, not that we need it, you've seen how Sirius goes on – "

"Then why were you there?!" Harry cried. "Why did you try to stop him? Why not someone – anyone – else?"

I wanted to talk to Voldemort, she couldn't say. I wanted to ask him if he could spare you.

"I had to," she said weakly, knowing it wasn't good enough. Harry knew she was lying – she could see it in his eyes. He looked like she'd slapped him.

"That was a very brave thing you did, Miss Potter," Dumbledore said, speaking for the first time.

Rose met his eyes, thinking of nothing but the feel of Quirrell's skin crumbling beneath her fingers. "It was stupid. I thought – "

An idea occurred to her. A terrible, awful, wonderful idea. She'd had a plan for this, of course, but this was so much better -

"I knew he was after the Stone," she whispered, glancing away and staring at her hands. "But I wondered if – I go into the Forbidden Forest sometimes, to feed the Thestrals, and one time I overheard him and Snape talking – it sounded like Snape was threatening him. I started watching both of them after that, but then Snape saved Harry when he could've easily let him die – I saw him afterwards, he looked exhausted – so I figured he was probably fine. I – I went down the corridor the first week of school. I'd read a myth about Orpheus and how he'd gotten past the Cerberus in the underworld with music, so I sang a bit and it went straight to sleep. I'd gotten past the door with an alohamora and saw the trapdoor – I wasn't really interested in whatever it was guarding but figured it had to be important if there was a Cerberus guarding it. I added a ward to the trapdoor to let me know if anyone opened it – I figured I could run and tell a professor, since I'd been in the room for nearly twenty minutes and no one had come."

"But why didn't you?" Harry asked quietly.

She swallowed. "Because – because I remember the night our parents died," she whispered. "You know I'm sensitive to magic – one day I hung back after Defence to ask Quirrell and question and – " Rose swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut. "He felt like You-Know-Who," she whispered. She heard Harry gasp.

When she opened her eyes, Dumbledore looked grave. "As I suspected," he said. "Call him Voldemort, Miss Potter. Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself."

"But Voldemort isn't his given name," Rose argued. "You-Know-Who makes him sound like a storybook villain."

(and I once got us captured because I forgot about the Taboo)

"Fair enough, I suppose. To each their own," Dumbledore said, looking amused. "So, you confronted him?"

"I wanted to ask him why he killed our parents," Rose whispered. "I – he came for us that night." She looked at Harry. "Us, not our parents. Mum tried – she tried to shield us – he told her to step out of the way but she wouldn't – and I never told you because I knew you'd blame yourself but I wanted to know why – " her voice broke. "Why us? We're not – we're not prodigies or geniuses or – and we were one, I didn't understand why – "

"And so, you asked," Dumbledore finished quietly. Rose nodded. She was crying. "He didn't say," she whispered. She looked up at Dumbledore.

"Sir," she said. "Do you know – do you know why – "

"Why Voldemort tried to kill you?" Dumbledore said gently. "My dear, the truth is a terrible and powerful thing. I fear at the moment you are far too young – "

"She's too young for the truth, but she's not too young to die," Harry said angrily. He glared at Dumbledore. "Rose nearly died for the truth – don't you think she deserves something?"

Dumbledore looked very sad. "You are a child – both of you. It is a heavy burden to bear –"

"I'd rather bear a heavy burden than have my sister dead," Harry said.

The Headmaster looked pained. "I must – I'm so sorry, my dear boy, but I cannot."

"No," Harry said. "You could, but you won't."

"Professor," Rose said quietly. "What happened to the stone?"

"Destroyed," Dumbledore said. "Nicolas and Perenell have enough elixir to put their affairs in order and then, they will go on to the next great adventure."

When the Headmaster left, he turned back to her. Her brother pinned her in place with his gaze.

"You're going to tell me why you lied, later," he said. His tone brooked no discussion. Rose nodded.

Harry's lips thinned. He leaned forward and hugged her gently, not allowing any of his weight to fall. He buried his face in her hair for a moment, breathing deeply. When he pulled back, his eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

"No matter why you did it," he said. "Don't do anything like that again. Not without me." His eyes narrowed at her face – she didn't know what she looked like, but from Harry's expression he didn't like it.

"I'm not a child. I might not be as good at magic as you are, but I can help you plan, at least. I…" he faltered. "I know you have secrets. I'm not asking you to tell me everything, just… tell me enough to let me help you. If you say you can't tell me something, I'll respect that, I swear." Harry's eyes were earnest, pleading. She looked at them and saw the shadow of the past few days, where he'd stayed at her side. She felt the press of his fingers against her wrist, realizing with a start that he was feeling her pulse.

Rose had always been aware of her near-fanatical loyalty towards Harry, that voice inside her that whispered to her to protect him always, at any cost. He was hers, they had once been the same soul, and the remnants of that soul-deep connection lingered in the strength of their twin bond.

She'd never once considered that it might be reciprocated.

(stupid – just because he was a Gryffindor didn't mean he was a two-dimensional cutout of bravery and recklessness)

(she didn't have the monopoly on loyalty just because she was a Hufflepuff)

"I will," she said quietly.

Harry's fingers tightened around her own. She saw something in him settle, like an exhale after holding a breath for far too long.

"Good."

Rose was late to the end-of-year feast that night. She was hit, again, with a strong feeling of déjà vu. The Hall was full. An enormous green banner hung behind the High Table, the silver Slytherin serpent looking around. With a jolt, Rose realized she could hear very faint, oddly accented Parseltongue.

$Seven years in a row$, it hissed. $Salazar would be proud$

He really would, wouldn't he? Rose thought faintly. She ignored the hush that fell upon the students, sitting down between Susan and Hannah. The Hufflepuffs crowded around them, glaring at anyone who tried to stand up to get a look at her.

Rose thought about Slytherin. She thought about the way the other three houses looked at them in the hallways; how the way they grouped together had once been intimidating but now seemed defensive. There were bigots in that house, she knew, but the rest were just children. Children who'd been unfortunate enough to want to make something more of themselves, children like Tom Riddle who'd looked at themselves and thought I want to be more than this, children like Marcus Flint who'd played Quidditch the first time and thought this is what I want to do forever.

Even in her first life, Rose had nearly been a Slytherin. She'd grown up watching the people around her, picking her words carefully, a series of calculations running through her mind at all times. Was Uncle Vernon angry? How was he holding himself? Which words did he use, and which did he not use? She'd carefully manipulated herself to be in situations where Dudley couldn't attack her without looking bad – she'd looked at what other children had that got them the affection of adults and she'd practiced until she'd charmed the school librarian into letting her stay inside during recess – Dudley could get her before and after school, but during recess she was safe. Safety had been hiding in the quiet and shadows, waiting for the monsters to pass. Safety had been knowing when to strike and when to back down. Safety had been intertwined with cunning, and she'd developed the latter as she sought the former.

Then she'd learnt her parents' murderer had come from Slytherin. It was the very first thing she'd heard about the house, and when her first friend backed that up, she'd locked away Rose-of-the-Cupboard and become the Girl-Who-Lived. She'd bowed to the expectations of others, because she'd been alone so long that she clung to the first person who'd offered their hand.

("There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad, who wasn't in Slytherin," Hagrid had told her)

(Hagrid, who had taken her from the arms of Sirius Black)

(Hagrid, who had given her her first birthday gift, rescued her from the Dursleys, introduced her to her birthright)

("imagine if they put me in Slytherin," Ron had said disgustedly)

(Ron, who had left)

(Ron, who had come back)

She wondered how many other Slytherins were like her. She wondered how many would-be Slytherins had gone instead to Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor, children who'd been warned away from the house of snakes because they were evil.

(as if snakes attacked unprovoked)

She looked at Dumbledore as he recited the points tally. The last-minute points had seemed a great gift in her past life. It was only later that she'd recognized the manipulation for what it had been: a reward for recklessly putting herself and others in danger. A slap in the face to the Slytherins who'd worked against the mistrust to claw their way up the leaderboard. A cruel, cruel thing to do, to offer something and snatch it away at the last possible moment, especially to people who defined themselves by the strength of their want.

"… and in first place, Slytherin, with four hundred and seventy-two."

The Slytherins cheered. She saw Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. Once she had been sickened by it. Now she looked past Malfoy and saw Theodore cheering, Blaise laughing, and Daphne smiling.

(Theodore, who could see the Thestrals; Blaise, who joked and flirted but dreamed of histories untold and treasures unknown; Daphne, with a mask like ice but who loved with all the heat and passion of fiendfyre)

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events – "

"Congratulations, Slytherin!" Rose yelled, interrupting Dumbledore unapologetically. She wasn't going to let him take this from them – she couldn't. "You beat us this time, but Hufflepuff'll show you next year!"

There was a moment of brief, shocked, affronted silence before -

"You wish, Potter!" Blaise retorted. She felt a rush of gratitude for him – he could afford to be seen with her now; she was top of their year, well-connected, and took part in the Old Ways. She saw a flash of Derrick's grin from halfway down the table.

Rose stuck her tongue out at him. "You're just jealous I did better than you in History of Magic!"

"Ahem," Dumbledore said politely. He was still smiling but it looked a little strained. "Thank you, Miss Potter." Rose made a show of sitting down and smiling sheepishly.

"I suppose all that's left to say is… tuck in!"

The tables groaned with food. Rose was laughing deliriously. She ignored the snickers and looks sent her way and cheerfully helped herself to some roasted vegetables.

"You're so embarrassing sometimes, Rose," Justin sighed. Rose grinned at him.

"Thanks, Justin! You say the sweetest things."

"Weirdo," he said, but he was smiling.

Rose wanted to cheer. She wanted to jump on the table and dance. She settled for racing over to the Slytherin table as soon as she'd finished her food, hearing Susan's fond sigh as she left. She headed straight for the Slytherin table, ignoring the looks sent her way, and stopped behind Blaise.

He turned and smirked at her. "Come to grovel on bended knee, Potter?"

"As if you could be so lucky to have me on my knees," she scoffed. Several people choked, Rose smirked, and Blaise looked delighted. The smile he gave her was positively wicked.

"Why, that almost sounds like a challenge – "

"Don't even think about it, we're eleven. Now move over, I just finished that book you lent me and let me tell you – "

"You finally admit that the Giant War of 1382 had a direct hand in the dragon pox epidemic three years later?"

"Absolutely not, Zabini, don't give me that drivel, I'm here to prove you wrong. Look – "

"Merlin save me," Theodore sighed. "Daph, kill me now while there's still time."

Daphne sniffed imperiously. "Don't be silly, Theo, then who will put me out of my misery? Besides, you called me a silly blonde two weeks ago."

"- how on earth does muggle religion factor into this at all?!"

"The behavior changes, Zabini, do keep up –"

"Oh, wonderful Daphne, best of us all, we are unworthy to be in your presence, please forgive this lowly servant –"

Theodore squawked as Daphne smacked his shoulder. Rose and Blaise met each other's eyes and burst out laughing.