A/N For the Quidditch League of Fanfiction Writing, my prompts are hiding a big secret, monster, winter and a funeral. Warnings misscarriage, depictions of death and descriptions of torture. Have fun.

I created a playlist for this so yea, here you go playlist/0MGvYYjqYLihUkMoYs61L5

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Case file #214

Name: Rose Granger

Birth date: 19th August, 2000, twenty-one at time of apprehension

Crimes: Fifteen counts of first degree murder; three counts of arson causing death; breach of the statue of secrecy; four counts of resisting arrest; two counts of unlawfully possesing unregistered wand(s); seven counts of unlawfully placing imperio on another wizard; three counts of cruciatus curse on muggles; and five more.

Sentence: Found guilty; sentenced to dementor's kiss on the eleventh of December, 2020

The snow fell heavily on the ground. Winter was upon them, in more ways than one. Harry Potter walked along the frozen pathway, his shoulders hunched over and hands in his pockets. His destination lay in front of him.

A building (that to the Muggles was abandoned and dangerous), but to wizardkind it was the new Azkaban. A prison, meant to hold only the most dangerous of wizard kind.

Harry checked in before heading straight for a room where he knew he would find her: a girl he once thought he knew. Could he really call her a girl after these past few years? After the death of those he loved? "A monster" was more fitting a name than "girl" for this thing.

She sat on her bed, either not noticing him or ignoring him. She calmly looked around the room with an air of boredom. She would have looked like every other girl her age, except for the straight jacket constraining her. She showed no signs of being a sadistic killer, and, he supposed, that was what made her so deadly. She looked up at the sound of the door and smiled. Her smile was bright but her eyes were empty.

"Uncle Harry, have a seat."

He cautiously made his way to the stool next to her bed. She perched her chin on her knees and stared at him. "I suppose you are here to inform me of my sentence?"

He nodded and she cocked her head. "Dementor's Kiss, I suppose. We were never going to succeed anyways." She mindlessly rubbed her tattoo on her shoulder, a simple bird. "How's Aunty Ginny doing?"

His head violently snapped to face her. She turned her oh so innocent honey-brown eyes to meet his and it was then he saw it: the depths of madness within her eyes. How twisted her soul was through them despite her angel face. Harry's fingers clenched into a fist and unclenched as he fought to not punch her in the face. He regained control over his voice before responding flatly. "You know how she is."

She smiled, eerily reminiscent of Luna. "Don't worry she died painlessly. For the most part anyway. She was mostly dead when I got to her."

He closed his eyes, willing himself not to see Ginny's broken body, splayed out on the shore of the Thames. His mind conjured up the image before he could protest.

Red hair, red blood, red skin. So much blood. Her red hair fanned out around her, giving her the appearance of sleep. Despite the illusion, the red slits covering her body didn't lie. She had no pulse, and neither did the little one inside of her. Harry cradled her body to his own.

"Ginny," he mumbled. Her face was covered in welts, brought about by a reverse stinging hex, and her ear was severed exactly like George's. He gently lay her on the river bank. "We need to find who did this."

They would pay.

Rose kept staring at him, to the point where it was getting unnerving. He swallowed. "Rose, why did you do it?" He didn't want to list the unmentionable things she had done. He didn't want to think too deeply about it, or at all.

She pursed her lips. "Do what?"

So it was going to be like this. She was going to act innocent. "Let me think, murder your parents. Kill my wife and unborn child. Crucio innocent strangers. Do you need me to go on?"

She drew her gaze away and didn't speak for a moment. Harry waited, his patience growing thin. "You do remember my younger brother Hugo, yes?"

Of course he did. Hugo had been a perfect child, a credit to his parents' name. She continued, still staring at the wall. "He was my first kill. He caught me practising a dark ritual in my room and threatened to tell Mama."

Harry shuddered. How did Rose still call Hermione Mama, despite the fact she had brutally murdered her? How dare she use the term of affection for one she clearly thought of as no more than dirt?

"I used that ritual against him. I pinned him to the wall and let the monster take control. It ripped him to shreds. Mama and Papa thought he had triggered a ward with his tinkering, and somehow caused it to backfire. I simply agreed through my tears."

Another wave of disgust swept through him. They had been fake tears. Those crocodile tears had made another appearance at Hugo's funeral. Harry could clearly remember the day of the funeral. It had been so cold; the winter of 2015 had just set in.

Hugo's coffin vanished into the ground, dirt covering the oak surface. A silent tear dripped down his face. His nephew was dead. Rose was standing near the gravesite, her eyes brimming with tears. Her mother ran over to comfort her as she sobbed into her arms. Harry closed his eyes wearily, hoping they could resolve this so he would have time to grieve.

Rose laughed at something he couldn't see, then she straightened up, a serious expression gracing her face. "If you want a short answer, I did all this because nothing has changed. Wizardkind are so fucked up, we're backwards and I just, I -"

Harry cut in. "That's exactly what your mother was trying to change."

She leant her head back against the wall, eyes closed, seeming as if she were carrying a weight on her shoulders. "She failed."

Her dead tone radiated through him. "But she wasn't your next victim, was she?" he asked quietly.

She sat back up, her eyes alight with mirth, eager to tell the tale of death."No. I killed Lorcan next."

Lorcan Scamander. His twin was incarcerated in the cell next to this one. "How did you manage to get Lysander to join you?"

Rose quirked her lips and leant in as if conspiring with him. "I promised him revenge. We would hunt them down and make them pay. I killed Lorcan the Muggle way, and then all I had to do was imprint my memory on some random Muggle and 'catch' them for him to destroy."

How had she grown so cold over these years? The little girl who'd sat on his lap begging for stories and tales had gone, had been swept away by the motion of time. She had been replaced by this young woman, a cold and brutal murderer.

Harry questioned her again. "How did you recruit the others? Scorpius? Roxanne? Domonique?"

Rose puffed air out of her mouth. "Scorpius was easy. I seduced him and twisted his insecurity into a nice little need to protect the one he cared about most, which just so happened to be me. With Dominique, I promised her a position higher than Victorie, a way for her to get out of her sister's shadow. She grabbed it with both hands, not even needing a prompt. Roxanne asked me to join for adventure's sake. She had no idea what she was in for, but when she panicked and tried to back out, I imperio'd her to stay put."

"Why did you kill Ron and Hermione?"

Rose was silent. "I don't really know," she said. "Perhaps because I was sick of living in their shadow? That's how I recruited Jamsey, you know? He hated being outshone by you in everything and that bitterness was perfect for me to mold into hatred. He nearly did kill you."

Harry ground his teeth. "I know."

Rose started to twitch. "Lily Luna got in the way though. I tried to recruit her but she was a daddy's girl, a perfect little missy. She kept piping on about how 'Daddy wouldn't like this' or 'Is this breaking the law?' until I used the acid curse on her stomach. Her pretty little screams still make me shiver with delight. Can she speak again or did her vocal chords take too much damage? I did wonder if Lysander managed to rip her vocal box out…"

Harry breathed through his nose. "How did you kill your mother?"

Her eyes practically lit up, swirling with laughter. "That was a good one but I don't think I'll tell you. What I will tell you is that I lied. Ginny did die in pain. I made sure she spent her last breaths unwillingly cursing you, an imperio controlling her pitifully weak mind. Even if she had lived, your spawn was lost twenty seconds into the first crucio, if even that."

He lunged at her, his hands around her neck, choking her. She gasped, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Harry was so focused on stamping the life out of her, he didn't notice the door crashing open until two aurors tackled him off of her. She fell, gasping to the floor, her neck already slightly discolored. She looked up at him. Her cackle filled the room.

"There's that anger, that bitterness. You aren't any better than I am, dear uncle."

He ordered the aurors to release him. They did so warily, still ready to restrain him if needed. He walked right up to her until they were nose to nose.

"I am nothing like you. You will regret the day you harmed my wife."

She tilted her head and pouted, looking a bit like Bellatrix Lestrange. "Will I?"

He didn't dignify her with a reply, instead leaving. Rose sat on the floor of the cell, her laughter echoing off of the stone, any semblance of normal gone.

Three days later

Rose stood there, Lysander, Scorpius, James and Roxanne surrounding her. Lysander and Scorpius were already soulless husks, but this didn't seem to faze Rose. She only stared down her nose at the Minister for Magic, Percy Weasley, who barely glanced in her direction.

The dementor came closer to her and she trembled a little, but otherwise held her head high. Harry watched as it grabbed her face and tore out her soul. She screamed silently, then dropped to the ground. He turned away as his own son's turn came.

Harry had never wanted his son to become a monster.

Cold winters, an undeserved mass funeral and acknowledging that he had played a part in raising a monster, those were secrets Harry would take to the grave. He had played this game far longer than Rose. If she was the monster, it was only because he had allowed her to become one. Harry refused to taint his legacy and the children were a small price to pay for world order.

It had to be this way.