Rose had an odd relationship with attention. She didn't mind it – welcomed it, even – when she drew it purposefully (she'd never felt that powerful before, that night in the Slytherin common room, seeing every one of them still and silent and hanging on her every word). When she was caught off-guard, however, it was far more irritating.
She held back a grimace as she stepped into the sixth year Ancient Runes class. The only people she recognized was Percy Weasley (the lone Gryffindor) and Brianna Melton, who was a Hufflepuff Prefect. Melton was already sitting next to someone though, a boy with yellow lining his robes. They were the only Hufflepuffs – apart from them, there were three Ravenclaws and three Slytherins. It was the smallest class she'd ever seen, and she knew for a fact that there had only been one Runes NEWT class for decades – Professor Babbling required an "O" to continue, and even then it was one of the most difficult of the subjects offered at Hogwarts.
All of them were staring. Rose wanted to crawl under a desk. Stupid of her, to think that just because she'd spent a year being approachable and friendly that that would cancel out her, a second year, in a NEWT-level course.
"Hello, Miss Potter!" Professor Babbling said, looking up from her desk. She was a short, innocuous-looking woman, with straight brown hair cut in a bob and intelligent brown eyes. "Do sit down, won't you?"
The only available seat (unless she wanted to sit on her own) was beside a gentle-looking Slytherin boy. She slid in beside him, trying not to read too much into the gasps and wide-eyed looks she was getting – especially from Prefect Melton.
Slytherin prejudice exists, she reminded herself.
"Miss Potter," Professor Babbling said, gracing her with a small smile, "is something of a prodigy. She took her OWL over the summer, and I won't have any of you giving her a hard time, do I make myself clear?"
At the severe look she shot them, everyone nodded. Rose looked down, blushing furiously. She looked back up when Professor Babbling began her lecture, readying her quill.
"Over the past three years, you have learned the meanings and uses of Elder and Younger Futhark. You have gone from translating single runes, to pairs, to passages. You have demonstrated a firm understanding of how to use Elder and Younger Futhark to create the most basic of wards. Now, we will begin exploring international runic systems, comparing them to Futhark. You will be learning an additional five of the seven main runic languages, so you have been provided with academic-grade Memory Potions to help you memorize the different meanings. Next year, you will learn how to integrate these systems. Wards and enchantments anchored with integrated runes are considerably more powerful and longer lasting than those done with a single language. Any questions?"
A Ravenclaw raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Gallagher?"
"Why would combining languages strengthen the wards? Would the different rules not clash and weaken them instead?"
Professor Babbling smiled. "Two points to Ravenclaw for an insightful question. I'm afraid the answer isn't yet known – there's a great deal of empirical evidence that proves it, but the theory behind it is still being discussed. If you're interested, I can recommend a few issues of Runes Monthly with noteworthy hypotheses. Anyone else? Miss Garrison?"
The Slytherin girl straightened. "Professor, why didn't we receive Memory Potions when learning Elder and Younger Futhark?"
Professor Babbling frowned at the wave of snickers that passed through the room. "I get that question every year, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Memory Potions work best for languages when one has already learned a language the traditional way. Remember that it only boosts memory, not comprehension, so your brain operates better when similar pathways are already in place. Does that make sense?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Excellent. If that's all, let's begin:
"The Ancient Chinese equivalent of Futhark were mentioned briefly last year, but only used as a comparison. Today we will be learning the Chinese system in its own right."
It was fascinating. Professor Babbling was an excellent teacher, taking the time to point out references in their textbook, reiterating her points, and going at a steady enough pace that Rose's hand wasn't cramping nearly as badly as she'd expected it to by the end of the lesson. She jotted down the homework in her planner and tucked it back into her bag. Giving a shy, "See you next class," to her deskmate, she was waylaid by Prefect Melton almost immediately afterwards.
"Hello," she said curiously. Prefect Melton looked equal parts concerned and exasperated.
"Potter," she said, blue eyes deadly serious. "I know you're friendly with some Slytherins – hell, the whole school knows by now – but that's one Slytherin you ought to stay away from. That was Felix Rookwood, Augustus Rookwood's son." She pressed her lips together. "Ex-Unspeakable Augustus Rookwood."
They both knew she meant ex-Death Eater.
"That doesn't mean he's like his father," Rose said quietly. Theo isn't. Pansy… might not be.
"I've known him far longer than you have, Potter. He's dangerous."
"He won't do anything to me in class though," Rose pointed out. "It'd be far too obvious."
Melton sighed. "Fine, just – try not to antagonize him, alright? And stay away from him outside of class?"
Offended, Rose objected, "I've never antagonized anyone."
The boy next to Melton snorted. "Pull the other one, Potter."
Melton rolled her eyes. "Apologies, Potter. This idiot is Liam Willis."
"Well met, Willis," Rose said. Willis waved her off.
"No need for formality, Potter. We're not Slytherins." Rose wanted very badly to object to that blatant stereotyping ('well met' wasn't even that formal! She hadn't bowed or anything), but kept her mouth shut. This wasn't the time or place.
"I'll stay away from Rookwood outside class," Rose pretended to give in. She had no such intention of doing so – she wasn't going to form her opinion of him based on hearsay, no matter how well-meaning.
(he might stay away from you, though, her mind whispered. After your show last night)
Fuck. She really hadn't thought that one through, had she?
She found her three Slytherin friends at their usual table in the library, tucked away in a corner at the very back. They were sitting with Tracey Davis and Emma Vane, which Rose carefully did not look shocked at. She saw Pansy Parkinson lurking behind a bookshelf nearby and pretended not to notice. She also pretended not to notice the way Blaise and Daphne had gone still. Davis and Vane had looked petrified (hah) since she'd shown up.
(like prey, Rose's mind whispered)
"Could I have a word with you, Blaise? Daphne?"
"Of course," Blaise said, trying for a smile. He was still unnaturally stiff. Daphne said nothing at all; she simply stood and turned, looking at her with her chin raised in a gesture of defiance. It hurt, to see her friends looking at her like –
(like they were prey)
Rose shook off her thoughts. "Shall we go somewhere more private? It won't take long, I hope." She'd tried to make the words unthreatening, but her soft, pleasant tone seemed to unnerve them just by itself. The fear in her belly worsened – what if… what if they didn't forgive her? She was sure they'd expected her to rip Malfoy apart verbally, mock and insult him until he cried, maybe. Instead, she'd had her familiar drink his blood. From his left arm, too. Rose didn't think anyone missed the significance of that.
She led them into an abandoned classroom and set up a few privacy spells. She looked from Blaise's well-concealed nervousness to Daphne's stone face.
"I'm not going to be a Dark Lord," she said bluntly.
"Really?" Blaise blurted out.
"A Grey Lord, then?" Daphne asked calmly. There was a tremble in her index finger she couldn't quite hide. "We haven't had one of those in a while."
"What – no, why does everyone keep thinking –" she cut herself off, breathing deeply.
"I don't want to rule over anyone," Rose said emphatically. She stared at her friends, willing them to believe her. "I just want to protect my friends and family. For the record," she added. "I consider both of you my friends. I'd never hurt you on purpose."
"Spoken like a true Hufflepuff," Daphne murmured. Blaise gave the girl a panicked look.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck thiswasbad -
"I'm not lying or acting or trying to trick you," Rose said, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. "Please – you really are my friends – I love arguing over history with you, Blaise, and Daphne, I think you're one of the funniest people I've ever known – I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was a Parselmouth earlier but even Theo didn't know and – I'm sorry," she whispered miserably. "I didn't mean to scare you – please tell me I haven't messed everything up," Rose begged. She was almost crying now – she'd had no idea of the effect she would have, and what did that say about her that she knew her friends so poorly?
"Please," Rose repeated. "What do I have to do to make you believe me?"
Blaise shifted uncertainly. She saw cracks in Daphne's mask, and had to hold herself back from pushing. She'd said her piece – it was up to them, now.
"An oath," Daphne said quietly. "An oath on your magic."
Blaise gaped at his Housemate, turning his shocked gaze onto Rose when she pulled out her wand. An oath was a serious thing – breaking it would turn her into a squib and would take an enormous chunk of her core regardless. She'd be weakened for days. It was extremely rude of Daphne to even ask, an enormous faux-pas, but if it would let her keep her friends...
"I, Rose Lyra Potter, do swear – "
"Wait," Daphne said. "That's enough – I just wanted to see if you would."
Rose blinked at her. "Oh. Alright." She looked at the Slytherins cautiously. "Does this mean we're friends again?"
(she hated herself for the vulnerability she couldn't quite hide – Rose-of-the-Cupboard had never been fully locked away, it seemed)
Blaise softened. "We never stopped being your friends, Rose." He pulled her into an awkward hug, relaxing as Rose all but melted into it.
"We were just worried you preferred us as minions," Daphne said dryly. She made an affronted noise as Rose reached out and pulled her into the hug.
"Minions are boring," Rose mumbled. "Friends are much better."
"This is humiliating," came Daphne's muffled voice.
"It's alright, Daph," Blaise said cheerfully. "We're never speaking of this conversation again, after all."
Rose couldn't hold back a giggle. "I've missed you both," she whispered, voice thick with emotion.
"Dear Merlin," Daphne said, dripping disgust. "You really are a Hufflepuff. I hope it's not catching."
When they went back to the library, Theo took one look at them and said "Finally."
"Shut up, Theo," Rose said affably, sitting down and pulling out her Ancient Runes notes. She trawled the library for reference books, returning with a stack half her height and letting it drop onto the table with a loud thump, grinning at the irritated looks Theo and Daphne shot her.
("I'm not sure you understand how terrifying you can be," Theo had told her quietly. "That night… none of us had even considered that you'd be capable of that. If you fooled them that easily, they wondered what else you might've slipped past them."
"And you don't?"
"You said so yourself – we're friends. And if you proved anything that night, it was that you defended people you cared about.")
That night, Susan pulled her aside in their dorm room.
"Everything alright?" Rose asked, worried.
Susan bit her lip. "You know I'm not one to gossip, but… well. I thought you should know that Sally-Anne Perks, Leanne Frobisher, and Wayne Hopkins were talking about you earlier, about how occamies were always the familiars of Dark witches and such. I'm not sure if anyone else believed them, but…"
Rose sighed. "It's alright. I've known that not everyone would be alright with Macha," she said, smiling weakly. She couldn't quash that little pang of disappointment though – all three were part of her study group. She knew them, and they knew her. It was one thing to be wary of her when she'd been a Gryffindor and barely interacted with them like in her past life, but in this one… She'd logically known she couldn't expect everyone to be on her side, but being shown proof of it hit differently.
"Hannah, Justin, Ernie, and I shut them down," Susan told her firmly. There was a hint of worry in her eyes, making Rose wonder what her face looked like.
"Thanks," she said quietly, a little heartened. At least she had more defenders this time around and, with luck, there wouldn't be a situation where she was a suspected Heir of Slytherin.
"I'm sorry," Susan said softly, reaching out tentatively. Rose stepsided it and pulled the other girl into a hug.
"Sorry," she mumbled. "I knew this was coming – I'm not sure why – "
"You thought they were your friends," Susan said quietly. "Don't be ashamed of being upset."
Perks, Frobisher, and Hopkins were one thing – their avoidance was borne out of prejudice, declaring her Dark because of her familiar (and like there was something wrong with being Dark, but Rose wasn't there yet). Everyone else, she believed, avoided her out of a combination of fear and prejudice.
In an effort to drag her Housemates into accepting her familiar, Rose had taken to wearing Macha curled up on top of her head like a crown while she did her homework in the common room. She'd explained it as Macha having tired of her tank, which was true, but not the primary reason. As it was, Hufflepuffs who'd been friendly towards her last year were already giving her wary looks. Even Brianna Melton and Liam Willis were eyeing her with new caution, which hurt.
(but she'd chosen this, she reminded herself. She'd wanted to combat prejudice, to remake the world into one Harry – and she – deserved)
(if this was the price, she would pay it gladly)
Ernie, remembering his reaction to her after the Samhain ritual, and after seeing Susan make a point of cooing over Macha, stood staunchly by her. Hannah, after Rose let her feed Macha some ice mice, was delighted by their new study companion. The familiar bond allowed Rose and Macha to share emotions and understand each other, which was why she was allowed at all.
Rose, bent over an Astronomy worksheet, felt Macha slither her way down her head and curl up around her upper arm. She glanced down at the occamy, who flicked a tongue out in greeting.
"Hello," she told her fondly, brushing the tip of Macha's nose with the end of her quill. Across from her, she heard Hannah aww'h.
$Hello$ Macha replied impishly. She peered at Rose's worksheet with her sleek little head. Rose felt a pulse of curiosity from her.
"It's a review of the stuff we learned last year," she told the occamy, who looked for all the world like she was listening intently. "Mainly basic maths and trigonometry, but also a review of the phases of the moon and constellations."
Macha tilted her head in a very human expression of confusion. She heard Justin muffle a squeal of delight and smiled. Macha really was adorable.
"It's important to know for harvesting things like potions ingredients," Rose explained, trying not to smile. "Water-based magic is stronger on the full moon, and shrivelfigs ought to be picked at the new moon, because the gravity of the moon creates the tides. The power of the moon is weakest at midday on the new moon, which means that shrivelfigs picked at that time will be less reactive and prone to explosions."
Macha gave a little chirp and nudged Rose's cheek affectionately, before curling back up and tucking her head in her coils. Rose finally allowed herself to smile fondly at the occamy. Really, for all that she had a taste for human blood, Macha was unfairly cute.
"Is she very interested in Astronomy?" Diggory asked curiously. Rose looked up to find him leaning over her chair. She shifted aside a little.
"I think she just likes hearing me talk," she admitted bashfully.
Diggory grinned. "That's adorable."
"Isn't it?" Hannah sighed dreamily. "I wish I had an occamy."
Diggory mock-frowned at her. "Don't you have a kneazle familiar?"
Hannah blushed. "Yes, Mistletoe can't exactly hang around my shoulder like that – well, you know what I mean."
He grinned. Hannah ducked her head and turned pink. Ernie gave a very subtle scowl.
"I have a proposal to make," Rose began. Immediately, Theo snickered.
"Blaise is going to be disappointed."
"What does Zabini have to with this?" Harry asked curiously. Susan giggled.
"Shut up, Theo. I want to invite Blaise and Daphne to join us," Rose said.
"Now that she's reassured them she won't induct them into her evil army," Theo muttered. Rose threw a book at him, which he caught easily.
"What?" Hermione wanted to know.
Rose pressed her lips together and glared at Theo. "Ignore him, Hermione, Theo thinks he's funny. I've gotten closer to Blaise and Daphne since the incident with Malfoy – " not that any of them, save Harry and Theo, knew entirely what that was, only that she'd scared Malfoy a bit " – and I trust them. They're not blood purists."
"And they hate Malfoy," Theo added.
Everyone looked at Harry, the unofficial leader of the group. He sighed, looking tired and something else. "Don't make me regret this, Rosie."
She beamed at him.
(as it turned out, she did, but not in the way they'd expected)
"Forgive me for my bluntness, Miss Granger," Daphne said delicately. "But may I ask what products you use on your hair? I've noticed that it seems to bother you."
Hermione frowned, unsure whether to be offended or not.
"I mean no offense," Daphne reassured her. "I only want to help, I promise. My aunt has similar hair."
(and that was the beginning of the unholy, entirely unexpected friendship between Hermione and Daphne – between Hermione's brains and Daphne's political maneuvering, they brought down the wrath of the gods upon any student unfortunate enough to be seen attacking another)
(Hermione preferred obvious, showy retaliation – she'd cursed Amanda Ackerley to have the word 'bully' spelled out in bright, painful-looking pustules that Madam Pomphrey hadn't been able to heal. The spell only worsened, more and more pustules appearing, until Ackerley got the hint and stopped jinxing Slytherin first-years in the halls)
(Daphne favoured more subtle methods – Malcom Rosier hadn't dared look at either her nor Hermione after he'd called Penelope Clearwater a stupid mudblood)
(Rose still didn't know what they'd done)
(but there was a part of her that hummed with pleasure at seeing her own anti-bullying stance carried on by her friends)
On Saturday, Rose, Susan, Harry, and Anthony Goldstein accosted Professor Flitwick during his office hours and asked if he could supervise their study group. They intended to practice defence spells, after all, and Flitwick had been a duelling champion in his youth. Flitwick had agreed happily, telling them he'd ask the Headmaster to reopen one of the disused Defence classrooms.
(the wars with Grindelwald and Voldemort had killed many of all blood, and those who'd lived through that were reluctant to bring children into the midst of a war)
(the incoming first-year class was the smallest Hogwarts had seen in decades; even now the House tables looked sparse)
Rose happily handed off leadership of the group to Harry, Susan, and Anthony. Between them, Harry and Susan had a great number of resources they could draw upon, and Anthony was even more organized and on top of things than Hermione was.
Reincarnation or not, Rose had a number of schemes she was in the middle of, as well as more she'd yet to begin. Her spellwork might have been excellent, but theory and essays had always been Hermione's forte, and her homework still took an embarrassingly long time to complete. She had a NEWT next year – she didn't have the time or brainpower to spare for the group.
"Wait," Anthony blurted out. "Are you really taking sixth year Runes?"
"Oh," Rose said, ducking her head. "Yes, I am."
"She got an Outstanding on her OWL," Harry said proudly.
"Wow," Anthony said. "I mean, I heard rumors but… you know…"
"Primary sources are important," Rose grinned. "I understand."
Anthony grinned back. For the first time, Rose looked at him and didn't feel any guilt.