When Rose walked into Gilderoy Lockhart's Defence classroom, she couldn't stop herself from letting out a faint whimper.

"What are the odds that the Headmaster would let me skip Defence classes and self-study instead?"

Susan had given her a pitying look. "Rose, the Headmaster hired Lockhart. Self-studying's probably a good idea though," she'd sighed, eyeing the many Lockharts winking and grinning at them with undisguised disgust. Apparently, Amelia Bones had been so appalled with the DADA course books that she'd set several on fire and had to buy new ones. Susan's copy of Travelling with Trolls was still a bit singed around the edges.

"Are you going to self-study?" Justin asked curiously as they settled in the back, as far away as possible. "It's a brilliant idea – we could have a study group."

Rose stared at Justin. She hadn't even thought about starting the DA early. Merlin, she was an idiot sometimes.

"Justin, you're a genius!" Susan beamed.

"Excellent idea, old man," Ernie agreed. He leaned over to whisper to Michael Corner. Rose saw the message pass like a wave through the students – even if a number of love-struck boys and girls looked affronted at the idea that they would need anything more than Lockhart. She figured many would change their minds in a few weeks.

"We can talk to Professor Flitwick," Terry Boot said. "He'll know a place, surely."

"Maybe during his Saturday office hours?" Anthony Goldstein suggested. Rose fixed his image in her mind – young, innocent, and alive. This Anthony wasn't screaming, didn't have smoke pouring from his eyes and mouth as he burned from the inside out.

(stop, Rose told herself firmly. No details. This Anthony is alive and that's the only difference you should pay attention to)

Lockhart entered the classroom with a flourish of turquoise robes. He cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Hannah Abbot's copy of Year with a Yeti, and held it up to show his portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing to it and winking. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Forces Defence League, and five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award – but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

No, Rose thought furiously. You didn't get rid of her at all, you memory-stealing thief.

Lockhart handed out his quiz. Rose, behind a barrier of Lockhart's books she'd constructed specifically for this purpose, whispered a geminio and tucked the duplicated copy into her bag. She waited, nearly buzzing with anticipation, for Lockhart to release the pixies.

When Rose had first learned of Macha's predilection for the creatures, her mind had immediately jumped to Lockhart's very memorable first class. The memories were blurry, but the emotionally charged memories tended to linger as the rest faded, and the pandemonium that class had erupted into was very memorable.

Lockhart whipped off the fabric over the cage. "Yes," he cried. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

On her wrist, Macha wriggled. Rose sent a short burst of calm towards her. Wait.

"Let's see what you make of them!" Lockhart said. He opened the cage.

It was as she'd remembered – the pixies shot in every direction, breaking ink bottles, shredding books, upending waste baskets. As she, Susan, Justin, and Ernie huddled under their desks, Rose turned to them.

"Sorry about this!" she called and pulled back her sleeve. Their eyes widened as Macha was revealed.

"Please eat them," Rose begged her familiar. Macha, hissing out a happy $finally! Come here, my tasties!$ uncurled herself and flew into the air.

"She loves Cornish Pixies," Rose grinned apologetically. "And I doubt Lockhart's going to do anything about them." His wand, after all, had already been snatched from him. Her friends, even Ernie, who'd eyed Macha with wariness and horror, grinned back. They all appreciated a saviour.

And, Rose thought admiringly, Macha was every inch the saviour. Her deep blue scales shimmered and caught the light, the occamy herself a blur as she snatched pixie after pixie with unearthly grace. She twisted and dove and flew like she'd been born to it (and she had). Soon, the pixies had managed to smash a window and escape. Macha made to follow them, but Rose tugged on the familiar bond and the occamy returned.

"Sorry," Rose said apologetically. "But you're still not allowed outside on your own, you know." She looked up to meet the eyes of the shocked, grinning, and (in Lockhart's case) terrified class. The man himself was hiding behind his desk, only a shred of turquoise underneath giving him away. He'd poked his head out when the pixies had escaped and was now looking at the occamy around her wrist with wide, horrified eyes.

Everyone else had been invited to her and Harry's birthday – they'd known about Macha beforehand. For Lockhart, however… For Lockhart, it looked as though an XXXX creature had manifested in its classroom and obeyed the orders of a little girl. Occamy familiars – magical creature familiars – were nearly unheard of. Even Fawkes wasn't Dumbledore's familiar, only his friend.

"My familiar," Rose said calmly, meeting Lockhart's eyes as she ran a finger down Macha's back. "She loves Cornish Pixies, you see, and was upset at my distress." She smiled a little wider at Lockhart, letting something cold creep into her eyes.

"Sorry about the pixies."

Before Lockhart could reply, the bell rang. Rose stood, turned on her heel and left, her classmates trailing behind her.

"That was brilliant," Justin burst out. "Did you see the look on his face when he saw Macha?"

Sue Li giggled. "Macha was brilliant," she corrected.

"Do you carry her around with you everywhere?" Oliver Rivers asked. He looked a little concerned.

"Only the first few days at Hogwarts," Rose said, not even lying. "It's difficult for her to adjust to the change in ambient magic here. It helps if she's close."

"Is she alright?" Lisa Turpin asked worriedly. Rose smiled back reassuringly.

"Yes, I think she's very pleased. Cornish Pixies really are her favorite food." Macha arched her back and stretched a little, preening.

Rose pretended not to notice as her peers slowly drew back in wariness. Roger Malone had gone white as a sheet when Macha had first appeared and was as far away from her as he could manage. Sally-Anne Perks hadn't spoken to her since her birthday, giving only a strained smile when Rose had tried to greet her. There seemed to be an invisible bubble around her that only Susan breached. She'd gotten too used to being well-liked – this subtle exclusion hurt more than it should've, even though she'd purposefully brought it on. Sirius had told her, grimacing, that a number of parents had written to complain about Rose being allowed an occamy familiar. There was a pang in her heart when Leanne Frobisher refused to meet her eyes.

She saw Padma Patil trying to catch her eye and fell back surreptitiously. The group continued without her, chatting as they headed to the Great Hall for dinner. Rose was pleased that even the love-struck students were able to admit Lockhart's uselessness – they excused it as him having a bad day, but all of them were at least not overly upset by Macha's intervention.

"Where did you find her?" Padma Patil asked hesitantly. They weren't that close, for all she'd been at Harry and Rose's birthday party.

"She was a gift," Rose said, smiling. "My grandfather's portrait said that the Potters have a sanctuary for them back in India – Chandramani's Sanctuary, or something?"

"Oh, yes," Patil said, eyes rapidly clearing. "That makes sense – I didn't know Chandramani was a Potter?"

"She was a Parselmouth too," Rose said impulsively. "Which was why she stopped the harvesting."

"Really?" Patil breathed. "I had no idea – I think I have a great-uncle who's a Parselmouth, but – that makes sense."

"Yeah," Rose agreed. She could tell Padma wanted to ask her if she was a Parselmouth or not but held herself back. Rose wouldn't have answered anyway – she wanted Hogwarts to get used to Macha first. Occamies weren't inherently dark, just snake-like and dangerous. Parseltongue, on the other hand, was a trait explicitly associated with Slytherin and Voldemort. They were two very different animals, but Padma's reaction was encouraging. She'd known, intellectually, that there were other Parselmouths, but to hear of one so close to home (metaphorically, of course) was jarring.

"The prejudice against Parselmouths is silly," Padma said decisively as they neared the Great Hall. "In my opinion, anyway," she added, giving Rose a meaningful glance. Rose smiled back.

"I agree."

During dinner, Rose waved Harry over. She caught the eyes of the people lingering behind him – Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan – and grinned encouragingly. Soon most of the second year Gryffindors were sitting at the Hufflepuff table with their yearmates, being treated to a dramatic retelling of their Defence class. Justin's pantomiming of Lockhart's face when he saw Macha caught the attention of Terry Boot over at the Ravenclaw table and they were pulled in as well. When Rose saw Blaise enter the Hall, she waved him over, looking apologetically at Daphne and Theo. Blaise was Neutral (unlike Theo) and friendly (unlike Daphne) and she needed to move carefully. He got a lot of side-eyes at first, but he was funny and witty and Rose made a point of welcoming him.

She still felt awful at the deliberate exclusion, though, but was hesitant to invite any other Slytherins over. Rose glanced at Harry, who cut off his conversation with Stephen Cornfoot and looked back.

"You want to go over there?" He asked knowingly.

"Macha will protect me," Rose grinned. "And the Slytherins aren't all bad – they don't like Lockhart either, do they?"

Blaise grinned and shook his head emphatically. "Absolutely not," he confirmed. "We've got a betting pool on how long it'll be until Dumbledore starts getting complaints."

Anthony Goldstein grinned reluctantly. "Ravenclaw has something similar. He's so obviously a fraud it's almost painful."

"Excellent," Rose grinned. "Shall we, then?"

She stood and turned to Blaise, holding out her hand.

"Certainly," Blaise grinned. They made their way over to the Slytherin table. Rose had made her disregard for House divisions very obvious, but she'd still never dared to sit with the Slytherins. But now, with Blaise at her side, an occamy around her wrist, and allies looking over, she felt that old recklessness of hers rear its head.

"Hello, all," Blaise greeted, sitting down next to Daphne.

"Hello," Rose echoed, sliding in next to him. Beside her, Millicent Bulstrode made a point of moving away.

"I come bearing a warning," she declared dramatically, tossing her hair. "On the morrow, beware the man with the golden hair."

"That's not cryptic at all," Blaise said, rolling his eyes.

Rose grinned back. "You're Slytherins – you ought to be clever enough to work it out on your own."

She saw a ripple of raised eyebrows and looks at her compliment – a little condescending, but Slytherins appreciated this sort of thing. Rose tried very hard to prevent her grin from turning malicious and reached across Blaise to pluck a strawberry from a bowl of them on the table. As she did, her sleeve fell back and revealed Macha in a flash of brilliantly blue scales.

Theo's eyes lit up at the sight, even as everyone else flinched back.

"Did Lockhart release Cornish pixies?" He blurted out.

Rose stared. "How in the name of Circe did you figure that out?"

Theo grinned. She saw the discomfort in his eyes and felt a rush of affection – he didn't want to do this, but he was going to anyway because he wanted to be her friend in the open. She hadn't missed the hurt in his and Daphne's eyes when she'd warned them away earlier.

"You said her favorite food was Cornish pixies, you just came back from Defence which we have tomorrow morning, and you've got a wing in your hair."

"I do?" Rose squealed in disgust. She patted her head frantically and plucked it out. It was silvery and translucent, crinkling in her hand.

Gross. She flicked it onto the floor behind her and vanished it with a quick evanesco. It was an OWL-level spell, and she hid a grin when she heard someone choke and break into coughing fits.

Rose turned back in her seat and gave Blaise a betrayed look. "Was that there the entire time?"

He smirked back. "Your brother wanted to see how long it would take you to figure it out."

"That arse. And no one else told me on the way here?!"

"You've got an occamy on your wrist, Rose," Daphne interjected. No one missed her use of Rose's first name. "Even pretty girls are scary with a quadruple-X creature as a familiar."

"Aww, Daphne, you think I'm pretty?" Rose cooed, batting her eyelashes.

"Not nearly as pretty as you think Lord Zabini is," Daphne smirked back.

Rose rolled her eyes. "No one's as pretty as Lord Zabini."

She yelped as Blaise flicked her nose.

"If you absolutely must moon over my mother, at least do it when I can't hear you."

"What are you doing here?!" Malfoy, unable to take it any longer, burst out. Rose, trying not to look too gleeful, gave him a disdainful look.

"Eating, Malfoy," she said, holding up her strawberry. "It's dinnertime." She took a great deal of pleasure in his sputter.

"You – you know that's not what I meant!"

"Did I?" Rose said airily. "You must think very highly of me, Malfoy, I'm flattered. Unfortunately, I'm just a silly Hufflepuff, so I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific." She gave him a sharp, daring grin, dropping her twelve-year-old-girl mask and pulling on one Andromeda had taught her, snobbish and condescending. She saw nearby upper-years take note of the switch and held back a smirk.

He gaped at her for a moment before pulling himself together.

"What are you doing here," he stressed. "At the Slytherin table?"

"It's not against the rules," Rose said mildly, finishing off her strawberry. She ran a finger down Macha's head, causing the occamy to stretch out in pleasure. "Do you take issue with my presence, Malfoy, or are you just afraid of my familiar?"

"… You're a half-blood," he said weakly. She felt a bit sorry for him, but he was still a spoiled, bigoted prat, so she ignored it.

"Insulting my blood status? How disappointing, I would've thought that after two months you'd have come up with something more interesting."

"I'm surprised you're not in Gryffindor with your idiot brother, Potter, it's very brave of you to flaunt your familiar in front of the professors. Are you so arrogant that you think you won't be punished for smuggling an occamy into the school?"

(he'd resumed taunting her a month after the remembrall incident and she, too wary of actually doing anything to him, had allowed it)

(it had been a mistake – here he was now, insulting her brother, knowing – believing – that she would do nothing, because she hadn't done anything before)

Rose, for her part, simply stared at Malfoy. She needed to nudge Blaise's foot with her own under the table – Slytherins needed to stand united against the other Houses, and the boy was as reckless as a Gryffindor sometimes. He was protected by virtue of his status and personality, but she didn't want to test how far that extended – Malfoy's name carried a far heavier weight than his, after all. It had been different at Blaise's birthday over the summer – here they were in front of the entirety of the House, within earshot of the Ravenclaw table, had their yearmates peeking over at them from Hufflepuff. Rose needed to prove she could hold her own against Malfoy. She needed to be respected by the Slytherins in her own right, not by extension because of her friends.

(she'd let this go on for far too long)

"I'm not sure whether to be impressed that you think I, a twelve year old girl, am capable of smuggling a dangerous creature into Hogwarts, or disappointed that you also believe that, after that, I would be so idiotic as to literally wave it around under Dumbledore's too-long nose."

(she needed to act)

To rub salt in the wound, she turned very obviously to the High Table and gave a little wave at Dumbledore, trying not to jostle Macha on her wrist too much. He'd understand the power play, she was sure, and still wanted her on his good side, so she was almost certain he'd respond positively.

(but what to do?)

She was right. After a beat, Dumbledore, eyes twinkling, waved back. She was positive he knew what she was doing and thought it funny, which – well. She'd think on the implications of that later.

(prank? Curse? Obscure spell?)

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, face flushed in both embarrassment and anger at how she'd shot him down. "You don't belong here, Potter, you with your filthy mudblood of a mother – "

Mudblood.

Mudblood.

(filthy mudblood, he'd called her mother, as if she wasn't more powerful and brilliant than he could ever hope to be)

Mudblood.

The word echoed in her mind. She was upset from Sally-Anne and Wayne's rejection, from her classmates' fear, exhausted from the thousand and one schemes she was running, she'd been in such a good mood and –

Malfoy had ruined it with a word. That word. He'd used that word and he'd used it to insult her mother. She hated that word, she hated that word, she hated -

"You're going to regret saying that, Malfoy," Rose said calmly. Her friends had gone very still – she'd never told them her thoughts about that word, but she knew they could see the anger in every line of her body. Rose wanted him to suffer – she wanted to make him scream – he had insulted her mother, her mother, who had given her life to protect her and come up with a way to counter the Killing Curse – but she was in the Great Hall. She needed her revenge to be private – more private than this, at least.

(that word, that word, the root of all her - )

(she would make him hurt)

Rose stood. "I'll see you after dinner, Malfoy," she said, and left. She heard him scoff behind her and nearly trembled with rage. How dare he, he thought furiously, how dare –

(daddy and I would die for you, darlings, her mother had whispered. We would gladly give up our lives, our futures, for yours)

In insulting her, Malfoy had spit on her sacrifice, laughed at everything she'd accomplished –

(Rose watched as her mother – her ruthless, brilliant, muggleborn mother – covered their nursery in runes and sigils. She held bonfires in the center of the room, burning sage and mugwort and mint, casting the blood of herself and James into the fire until it sparked, blazing a blinding white for three days and three nights. She chanted, in Latin and Gaelic and Celtic, until the air was heavy and thrumming with her magic and she collapsed, spent)

Malfoy had called her filthy, had all but called her stupid and worthless and Lily Potter was better than he could ever dream of being, how dare he –

And to use that word -

(she would see him bleed)

She gave Harry a strained smile and waved him over. She had a plan, but she needed -

(mudblood, Hermione's arm read, blood still beading over the fresh blood)

He seemed to have gotten the gist – she saw him get up and follow her out of the hall.

(I don't need help from filthy little mudbloods like her)

"Malfoy did something," she said, after throwing up simple privacy wards. "I need to borrow the cloak."

Harry studied her. "Be careful," he said.

"I will," she replied.

(she hated that word)

Rose was cold with rage. Harry had inherited Lily's fiery, crackling temper, but James had gotten cold and cruel when he was angry. He'd humiliated Severus Snape in front of dozens of people, he'd put students in the hospital wing and never gotten caught, he'd ruined reputations and made people cry. He'd been a vicious, vicious bully, and she'd inherited his streak of cold ruthlessness and propensity for violence just as surely as she'd inherited Lily's pragmatism and disregard for laws in the defence of those she held dear.

When her parents had gotten word that Marlene McKinnon and her family had been killed, James had trembled with anger. They'd been friends since childhood; he saw Marlene as a sister. He'd come staggering back hours later, robes tattered and singed with spellfire, dripping blood on the white marble floors of Potter Manor. When Lily had made to look over him, he'd given her a vicious grin. "None of it's mine," he'd said. Lily had smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"I hope you made them pay."

"Oh, I did."

That night, when Malfoy got up and left the Great Hall, Rose followed him. She could tell from his carelessness that he wasn't really afraid of her – for all she'd been raised by a Black, she was still a twelve-year-old girl and a Hufflepuff besides. She had no way of getting at him in the Slytherin common room, so Malfoy surrounded himself with friends and allies and walked with confidence.

(she was really, really looking forward to this)

(good thing she'd had so much practice sneaking into the Slytherin dorms in her eighth year; she hoped her Daphne would be proud)

She'd borrowed the Invisibility Cloak from Harry and ducked into an alcove to put it on. She trailed him through the dungeons until they reached the Slytherin common room.

Rose stood to the side, waiting. She saw her friends pass, having followed Malfoy once he'd left. She hadn't seen Flint or Derrick in the Great Hall and hoped they had waited in the common room, but honestly, it didn't much matter. They'd hear about this either way – she'd make sure of it.

She didn't hear the password, but she didn't need it. She tucked the cloak away in her bag once the corridor was clear.

$Open$, she hissed. The wall slid open.

She stood on the threshold, eyes fixed on Malfoy. He'd just sat down, surrounded by his little cronies. Disgust curled her stomach. How dare he sit there, without a care in the world? How dare he dismiss her as a threat?

Theodore, Blaise, and Daphne were at a table in the corner. She ignored them. Tonight, she only had eyes for Malfoy.

"Good evening, Malfoy," Rose said pleasantly. She stepped into the common room, wall sliding closed behind her.

Most Slytherins were at dinner. The few that were present fell silent. Rose felt a rush of pleasure when she noticed Flint, Derrick, and most of the Slytherin Quidditch team. The ones she'd spoken to last year, the ones she'd shown her edges to, looked interested. They wanted to see what she could do.

Good. She wanted to show them.

$Bind him$, she hissed. Several people screamed. She saw her friends openly gape at her in shock. A sixth year fell out of their chair. $Let no one leave. Let no one enter$

Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson scrambled away from Malfoy as he cried out, the snakes decorating the common room coming alive. They wrapped around his wrists and legs, holding him in place. She hadn't needed to specify a name – the Parselmagic of the common room read her intentions, clear as crystal. Slytherins moved away from her as she approached, leaning back, looking down, too afraid to meet her eyes. The sight sent a thrill up her spine and she reveled in it.

$Guard me$, she ordered. The carpet shivered, flexing around her feet. An enormous serpent that'd once been painted on the chandelier fell to the floor and curled in a wide circle around her, hissing. It was more for effect than anything else, what with the stench of fear upon the air.

She sat down primly on the coffee table in front of Malfoy. They were nearly at eye level.

"I told you I'd see you after dinner," she said pleasantly. "Did you doubt me? After calling my mother a filthy mudblood?" she asked, voice ending in a snarl.

Malfoy said nothing. He was grey with fear and trembling. He flinched when she spoke.

"Well?" She demanded, voice hardening. "Did you? Tell the truth." She flared her magic, a trick she'd learned over the summer. It rippled outwards from her in a wave of pressure. Malfoy's head dipped automatically in submission and her very skin thrummed with satisfaction.

"Yes," he whispered. The room was so silent it carried.

"That was very foolish of you, Malfoy." she crooned. "You understand that now, don't you?" With a flick of her wrist her wand shot from her holster into her hand. She twirled it around her fingers. Macha unwound herself and curled around her shoulders, wings flared.

$May I eat him for you, Red One?$

$Not yet, darling$, Rose murmured. $I want to make him bleed first$

Malfoy nodded, shaking. His eyes flicked from her face to her wand to Macha and back again. Poor baby doesn't know where to look, she thought gleefully.

She smelled the stench of urine – he'd pissed himself.

Her smiled sharpened. "Use your words, Draco."

"I understand," he said. "I won't doubt you again." There was a barely noticeable quiver in his voice. She hoped the room heard it.

"Good." She said. Rose leaned forwards and pulled up the sleeve of his left arm. The room, if possible, tensed even more.

"I want you to remember this, Draco," she said. Her voice carried. "The next time you even think about insulting my friends and family, remember this. Remember how helpless you felt, watching me and knowing there was absolutely nothing," she snarled, "you could do to stop me."

$Diffindo$, she hissed. Spells cast in Parseltongue gave their caster more control and more power in exchange for a large chunk of magic. Rose didn't care. She held up her wand for a moment, so everyone could see the red light she was holding at the tip. She lowered it and slowly drew her wand down the length of Malfoy's forearm, opening up a gash. Malfoy started to sob, gasping in great, heaving breaths. Blood, thick and red as her mother's hair (her filthy mudblood hair), welled up and spilled over, staining his robes. She murmured a spell to slow its passage – she didn't want him to bleed out.

(when Madam Pomphrey had given her the book Rose had found the spell in, the mediwitch had had no idea of how Rose would use it)

(the entrails-expelling curse had once been used by farmers, after all)

$Is this for me, Red One?$ Macha asked.

Rose smiled slowly and relished Malfoy's obvious fear (this boy had called her mother a filthy mudblood). $Yes, sweetheart. Did I not offer you the blood of my enemies?$

Macha gave a wordless hiss of pleasure and slithered down Rose's arm. She heard people whimper at the sight of the little occamy delightedly drinking Malfoy's blood. Macha nudged the exposed flesh a little in her eagerness and Malfoy stifled a scream. Her previously blue scales were now painted red.

(occamies weren't known to enjoy human blood, but this was a creature selected by Death)

(everyone heard Macha's delighted little chirps)

"Remember how it felt to have your blood run down your arm and your own piss soaking your trousers," she whispered, giving him a vicious smile. "Remember that your dormitory is covered in snakes, and they answer to me."

Macha withdrew, leaving smears of blood in her wake. She hissed an $episkey$ and watched as the gash closed. One $scourgify$ later (and she hoped everyone had noticed her usage of upper-year spells) and all that remained of her visit was the stench of blood and urine in the air.

She pulled Malfoy's sleeve back down and patted it, relishing in his flinch. It was spotless.

$Release him$, she hissed. There were no screams, but she saw several flinches in her peripheral vision. Malfoy's hands shook when the snakes retreated back into the upholstery and stilled. He didn't dare look at her.

"I won't be so gentle next time," she said quietly.

She stood up and glanced around the room. Only Theo met her eyes. Her heart gave a little pang at the sight of Blaise and Daphne, who'd both gone very pale.

"That goes for all of you," she said. She pitched her voice low, so it carried. She'd learned it from Snape. "Leave my friends and family alone. Don't curse them. Don't insult them. My familiar doesn't have many chances to drink human blood, though she's told me she quite likes it." Rose gave a sharp, cruel smile.

I dare you, her eyes whispered. I dare you to test me again.

Flint was brave enough to meet her eyes. He looked shaken, face white, but when he spoke his voice was steady and hard. "Message received, Potter. Your friends and family won't be touched, not by us."

"Good. Let the others know, won't you?

"I will."

"And," she added, "since there's no evidence that anybody got hurt, I don't feel any need to tell the professors about this little disagreement, do you?"

"No, Potter."

"Excellent," Rose beamed, switching back into her cheerful-Hufflepuff mask. The sudden switch was disorienting; she practically heard people flinch. "I'll see you later, everyone!" She paused and giggled. "Or not, if you're good." Her smile turned teasing. She paused just before the door and tilted her head. "Oh, I almost forgot – "

$Let them leave and enter as they please$

"Wouldn't want you all to be trapped in here, would I? I can't imagine a more terrible death," Rose said, sighing theatrically. "Goodbye, now." She waggled her fingers.

She felt the change as the magic of the Slytherin common room obeyed. It caressed her in farewell. She stepped out, still smiling, ignoring the Slytherins waiting outside. Rose swept past before they could question her.

She'd told Harry about it over their mirrors last night. She had expected disapproval or disappointment, and Harry had shocked her with his vicious grin. He'd laughed when she told him what she wanted to do tomorrow morning.

(serves him right, he'd said. Calling mum a filthy mudblood in front of you. Idiot)

Rose couldn't help but smile as she and Susan walked into the Great Hall for breakfast. She lit up further upon seeing Theo, Blaise, and Daphne already there. The two Hufflepuffs made a beeline for them and sat down.

The only looks they got were from the other three Houses – she'd terrified Slytherin well and good last night. Even now they eyed her with poorly-concealed fear – well, poorly concealed by their standards, at least. Rose didn't think any of the other Houses or professors, save Snape, would notice. They seemed much more put-together than last night, though that might've been because of the current presence of witnesses.

"Morning, friends!" Rose chirped. Theo passed her a bowl of strawberries and she beamed at him in thanks. He hadn't known about her Parseltongue before, but she'd explicitly named him a friend at Blaise's birthday party, and the quick smile she'd given him in the Slytherin common room last night had washed away any doubt that might've been present.

Despite her very best attempts to draw them out of their shells, Blaise and Daphne's smiles never quite reached their eyes. Fear curled in her stomach – she would need to talk to them later, she knew. The only person who'd ever seen her sadistic side was…

Well, it was Voldemort.

(and wasn't that an odd thought?)

(she felt something squishy beneath her fingers and pushed,but beneath the horror and disgust and determination there was satisfaction)

"Good morning," Harry grinned, sliding in on her other side. Neville and Hermione followed suite, both looking nervous.

"Mind if I borrow Macha for first period?" Harry asked casually. "In case Lockhart's still got some pixies, you know."

Rose grinned at him. "Of course." She passed her familiar to him and she could practically see the cogs in the Slytherin's heads turning – Parseltongue was inherited, after all.

Malfoy, sitting a way down the table, went grey and looked resolutely at his toast. For once, he wasn't sitting with Parkinson – the girl was sitting instead with Emma Vane and Tracey Davis.

… Emma Vane, muggleborn, and Tracey Davis, half-blood. If she'd been a cat, her ears would've perked up. Now that was interesting. She'd need to keep an eye on Parkinson.

She needed to hurry off to class before she saw Flint or Derrick. Rose made a mental note to talk to them later – if Blaise and Daphne, whom she considered friends, were uneasy around her, she didn't want to think about how Flint and Derrick had reacted. They'd seen it firsthand, after all. Had she gone too far?

No, Rose reassured herself. I needed them to respect me.

You could've done that with a duel. Any respect they have for you is born out of fear, and fear fades. Fear fades, injuries heal - it's humiliation that lasts.

… oh. She hadn't even thought about that.

What does it say about you, that your first instinct is violence?

What does it say about you, that you enjoyed it?

Next time, she told herself. Next time, she would start with a duel. She wouldn't let herself get carried away again. She thought she'd been so clever, using the cloak and sealing the common room, when all along it'd been the same reckless temper that'd led her to crucio a Death Eater in front of Professor McGonagall.

She'd do better next time, she promised herself. She'd destroy Malfoy in a duel, show off her magical prowess, insult him and humiliate him and make him pay -

(in a way that didn't remind her of Voldemort)

Rose remembered the heady rush of power she'd felt and shivered.

(she and Harry had been blood-adopted by Sirius. They had thought themselves free of the Black Madness)

(were they wrong? Or had all that just been… her?)