Chapter 1: The Mysterious Visitor
It was starting to get dark out. Although the sinking sun had finally offered a break from the sweltering summer heat, most of the visitors to Central Park had gone home for the day. There were still a few people; some couples strolling along, some people out walking their dogs, a jogger or two, and a young girl sitting at the edge of the Bethesda Fountain. It would have been impossible not to notice her. Her long, auburn hair glowed like fire against the setting sun.
The girl was Rose Potter. Rose was far too young to be in Central Park alone this late, but it didn't matter, no one would be looking for her or notice. She had come here for a bit of peace. It was her eleventh birthday after all, didn't she deserve a bit of peace? Rose knew she would have to go back soon. Even if her foster family wouldn't be missing her that night, she was only placed with them for the next couple of days. They would notice eventually, and she had no desire to find out how they would react to her making them look bad with ACS.
She just wanted a few moments more. The house was crowded, she was sharing a room with four other kids. They had proven early on to be the kind of family who had locks on the cupboard and fridge doors to keep the foster kids out unless they asked permission to eat. Still, they had been far better than some other homes she had ended up in. Rose knew she had been lucky too, weirdly lucky. She would arrive in some foster homes where the other foster children warned her of abuse, but somehow, every time one of those parents tried to get near her, dumb luck seemed to prevent them. Once, the belt a foster father was going to use on her had started falling apart when he pulled it out. Rose supposed he must have used it too often. She shuddered to think about it. Once, a foster mother, jealous at all the comments Rose had gotten on her 'beautiful hair' when they had been at the store while her bio daughter was ignored, tried to shave Rose's head. The clippers had malfunctioned, started smoking the moment she turned them on, almost caught fire.
There had been countless near misses like this. Rose figured she must have a guardian angel somewhere looking after her. She looked up at the angel statue sitting on top of the fountain. The angel held a lily in her hand. Rose's mom's name had been Lily. In fact, that was about all she knew about her mom. It was why she liked the fountain so much. Rose liked to pretend it was her mom, looking after her. All Rose knew about her parents was that they had died. After they died, they had tried to place her with relatives, but that apparently hadn't worked out. She had been in foster care since she was two years old. Her case worker had once tried to find the relatives she had originally been placed with, but had no luck. According to him, it didn't even appear they were in the country anymore. They may have never lived here. How hated did a child have to be for someone to take them to a foreign country to abandon them?
She knew almost nothing about her past. When she had entered the system her parents' names had been given as Lily and James Potter. There was no record of any Lily or James Potter in New York or any other state. They were listed as deceased, no other information. Rose could only guess that they had died in an accident, and that she had been there, because Rose had a scar across her forehead. It was pale and looked like lightning striking. Rose often found herself running her fingers across it when she was stressed or thinking. Kids at school mocked her for it. There was a group of girls that liked to torment Rose who called her the disfigured orphan girl. "No wonder your family left you," they often taunted her. She tried not to let it get to her.
Rose stood with a sigh, smoothing her baggy shirt. Her clothes were always oversized and badly worn. She had to buy most of them from thrift stores, and she didn't exactly have the money to replace them as she grew. The last sliver of the sun was disappearing behind the trees. It was time to start heading home. She still needed to catch the bus, and she already knew she would regret waiting long enough that she would be walking alone past dark.
As Rose turned to leave though, she noticed she wasn't alone. Though the surrounding area of the park had cleared of its usual patrons, there was one oddly dressed older woman standing a few feet away, watching Rose. The woman was stern looking, hair pulled back in a tight bun and wearing glasses. She would have looked very much like the typical trope of a librarian if it weren't for her choice of clothing. She was wearing a long, emerald green cloak even in the summer heat.
"Rose Potter?" the woman asked.
Rose was startled. How did this weird woman know her? She looked around panicked. There was no one else here. She briefly wondered if she would be able to outrun the woman. After all, it had to be fairly hard to run in a cloak, and Rose had become fast from years of out running school bullies.
"Don't be scared. I know it's you. I can tell. You look just like your mother did at your age."
That got Rose. She stared at the woman, mouth agape.
"You- you knew my mother?"
"I did." The woman had an accent. British, Rose thought.
"How do you know my name? Who are you?" Rose stepped closer to the woman. Self-preservation gone and replaced with curiosity.
"My name is Minerva McGonagall. I'm a professor at a boarding school in the United Kingdom. Your mother attended."
"Why are you here?"
"I'm here because you've been accepted to the school. If you agree to attend, and I hope you will, you would start this September."
Rose looked at the woman suspiciously.
"I can't have been accepted. I haven't even applied, and I know I don't have the grades."
"Your name has been down since the day you were born, Rose."
"So, it's like a nepotism thing then? Well, it doesn't matter. I don't have any money. I doubt the state is willing to pay for me to attend boarding school in another country."
"You're parents have left you more than enough money to attend."
Rose laughed, unable to stop a hint of bitterness from cutting through.
"Now I know you're lying. My parents didn't leave me anything."
"Of course they did. Lily and James would not have left their daughter with nothing. When you were left with your family, there was a letter explaining it all. When you became old enough to attend, you would have been taken to your family bank vault. However, Professor Dumbledore did not count on the heartlessness of your aunt and uncle. They wanted nothing to do with our kind, your parents' kind, and tried to leave you somewhere so far away that you could never be traced back to them. It's taken us many years to find you, Rose."
"What do you mean, 'my parents' kind'?"
"You are a witch, Rose. Magical. Your parents were as well. The school I teach at, it is a school of magic."
"You are off your rocker, lady," Rose said, but she didn't turn to leave, or walk away. She felt drawn by what McGonagall was saying. This woman knew her parents. She wanted her to be telling the truth so she could ask more questions, ask what they were like. McGonagall appraised her for a moment in silence, and then took a step forward. Her foot, however, never hit the ground again. At least, not her human foot. Mid step, she shifted, shrunk, changed, until standing before Rose was a cat. It peered up at Rose with the same colored eyes as McGonagall. The markings around its eyes looked like McGonagall's glasses. Rose was speechless. Another moment later, and McGonagall the woman was standing before her again as though nothing had happened. Rose managed to regain her voice.
"I can't do that, though! I'm nothing special!"
"While animagi are rare in the wizarding world, I can assure you that if you chose to become one, with enough study and practice you could achieve it. You are quite special, Rose. I'm sure you've noticed odd things happening. Things you can't explain. Perhaps, you seem a little luckier than other kids in your situation?" McGonagall asked knowingly.
Rose stared at her. Was this woman saying that she had narrowly avoided some of the more harrowing abuses in her life because she was magical? It seemed absurd. She turned at looked back at the statue of the angel holding the lily. She had, after all, thought her mother had been looking out for her. If her mother had been magical too, passed it along to her, didn't that make it true?
"Say I accept? What happens?"
"You will accompany me back to London, where you will purchase your school supplies. Then, Dumbledore will find a place for you to stay until the school year begins. I admit, finding you was a rather sudden burst of luck on the part of MACUSA," she seemed to notice Rose's confusion, "that is, the Magical Congress of the United States. They are the governing body over wizards in this country. Seems one of them overheard your case worker mention your name, quite lucky. However, it did catch us rather unprepared. I'm afraid we will have to put you up at the Leaky Cauldron, an inn near where you buy school supplies, until a suitable home and host family can be located."
"I can't go to London. I don't have a passport."
"We won't be traveling the muggle way. You won't need one. Besides, it doesn't appear you were ever legally in this country."
"…so I'm really not American?"
"I should think not! And thank heavens too. Rowdy bunch of people they are."
Rose laughed.
"Are there lots of kids and exchange students placed with host families? You said it was a boarding school?"
"No. You are a bit of a special case," McGonagall hesitated for a moment. "Until you agree to attend, I can't tell you much for your safety. While your aunt and uncle left you here out of cruelty, they did leave you unintentionally safe. Once the wizarding world knows you are back, I'm afraid it wouldn't be very safe to have you return for summers in America in various foster homes. The host family would be for you to return to for summers until you were of age."
"…I can't come back here until I'm eighteen?"
"Wizards and witches come of age at seventeen, but yes."
"Would it be just one host family? What if they don't want me anymore?"
"Rose, the point of not placing you immediately is to make sure we find a home that will love and care for you as they do their own children. For your protection, and theirs, a spell will be placed over their house. You will be in one home with one family until your seventeenth birthday."
"Am I in danger? What happened to my parents?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you more unless you agree to attend."
Rose hesitated, looking around the very small piece she could currently see of her home city, though it had now grown quite dark. Trade in everything she knew, all the foster homes, the bullying, but also her home, for a chance at learning about her parents and magic?
"I'll attend. Of course I'll attend. When do I need to be ready to leave?"
"We will leave at once. MACUSA has agreed to let us use their floo network on this occasion. It is a bit of a walk. They are located in the Woolworth building."
Rose had no idea why the flu had anything to do with anything, but decided that was the last of her questions at the moment. McGonagall had started walking, and she hurried to keep up.
"Uh, Ms. McGonagall. I can't just leave. I have to tell my foster family, the Wyatt's, and my case worker. They will notice if I just don't come home. Eventually they would call the police. Plus, I need to get my things."
Rose didn't have many things. All her belongings could fit in a single, ratty backpack, but she was keen on holding onto the few she did have.
"Professor."
"What?"
"I am your teacher now. It's Professor McGonagall. I know American's don't take manners very seriously and I was a friend of your parents, but it is a matter of propriety."
"Uh- I'm sorry, Professor, but I-"
"As for the Wyatt's and your case worker, I have already spoken to them. I also already took the liberty of collecting your backpack. I believe one of your foster brother's had tried to take some things from it before I got there, but to my knowledge they have all been returned. It has been sent ahead to the Leaky Cauldron."
Rose was stunned. "How- how did you know I was going to say yes?"
Professor McGonagall gave her a rare smile. "You are your mother's daughter."
Rose wasn't sure what that meant but decided to drop it. They walked in silence for a while, then Rose asked, "So what's this school called anyway?"
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"Hog Warts? Can't say it sounds glamorous."
Professor McGonagall looked down at her over the edge of her glasses.
"Hogwarts is the finest school of magic in the world," she said, then muttered a bit under her breath, "though don't try bringing that up with the Americans."
"So there's a magical school in America too? Why wasn't I accepted into that one?"
"As I said, you are a special case. MACUSA certainly doesn't want to upset the Ministry, that's the Ministry of Magic in Britain, or Professor Dumbledore."
"Can you tell me why I'm in danger now? Does it have to do with my parents?"
Professor McGonagall sighed, as though she had hoped to avoid this question longer.
"Not all wizards are good, just as not all muggles, that's non magical folk, are good. There was a wizard a few years ago who was as bad as they come. You were just a baby, but your parents, they fought against him. He killed them for it. He killed many witches and wizards, as did his followers. They killed plenty of muggles too. Killing was a bit of a sport to them. No one could stop him. The night he went to kill your parents though, he tried to kill you too."
Rose's hand subconsciously jumped to her scar.
"Exactly. He couldn't do it. No one knows why. His curse rebounded off of you, leaving that scar, and destroyed him. His followers scattered. Some were thrown in prison. Others pretended they had been cursed, forced to obey him. Most people think he died. Professor Dumbledore, however, does not think so. Not enough human left in him to die. You became famous though. The Girl Who Lived. Everyone knows your name. Prepare yourself. When we arrive in London, you will get a fair bit more attention than you are used to. People have been wondering where you went for years."
"But if this wizard is gone, and his followers are locked up, how am I in danger?"
"There are always those who might want revenge for their master. I doubt you will encounter any harm in your lifetime, Rose, but it is better to be cautious. Professor Dumbledore believes so at least, and I have never known him to be wrong. We can't keep an eye on your safety in America if you return there every summer, bouncing from home to home."
"Who is Professor Dumbledore? You keep mentioning him."
"Professor Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts. He is also one of the greatest wizards of our generation. He is said to be the only one He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was scared of."
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"The dark wizard who killed your parents. Many are still frightened to say his name."
"If he's gone, why does it matter?"
"Fear is a funny thing, Rose."
"Will you tell me his name?"
"So long as you promise not to go repeating it. There is no need to cause undo panic, especially when we are relying upon the hospitality of MACUSA."
Rose nodded earnestly.
"He was called Voldemort."
They walked in silence for a few more moments.
"Can you tell me what sort of things we learn at Hogwarts?" Rose asked finally.
The rest of the walk was filled with explanations of classes that Rose never would have dreamed up while sitting in her muggle school. In total, the walk took almost two hours. Rose had been worried about the two of them walking at night like that, but strangely, no one even seemed to notice them. She thought that was odd as Professor McGonagall was certainly dressed strangely for the city (or anywhere as far as Rose knew), but people's eyes seemed to almost skip right over them. It was as though they saw the street on one side of Rose and Professor McGonagall and then their eyes slid right past to the other side, taking in nothing in between. She meant to question it, but was so caught up in the explanations every time of classes that would involve transforming items into other items, or learning to duel.
It had to be around eleven at night when the two arrived at the Woolsworth Building. Rose had never been here personally before, but she knew it on sight. Every New Yorker did. Professor McGonagall walked up to a door slightly to the left of the revolving entry doors.
"Well, come along," she said, ushering Rose through the door.
Rose wasn't sure what she was expecting when she walked through the door, but it certainly wasn't what she saw. The architecture inside was grand, and she was sure was not the same building the non-magical residents saw when they walked through the door. They had somehow stepped into an entirely separate, magical building. There was a large gold clock hanging from the ceiling that confirmed it was just after eleven, and two grand golden eagle statues flanking an archway at the top of a staircase. Despite the late hour, the place was bustling with people, they all wore long cloaks like McGonagall's except they seemed to have attempted to incorporate modern fashion trends into the cloaks. It was a strange dichotomy that had one young looking witch wearing a full denim robe.
A professional looking woman walked up to them. "Welcome back Minerva, and you must be Rose. We've heard a lot about you." She smiled down at Rose. Rose nodded. "I'm sure you're eager to be on your way, we just need to finish up some paperwork."
Professor McGonagall seemed annoyed, but agreed.
"Good," the woman said. "Just to make sure we have no trouble here on our end. Now, you took care of things with the No-Maj's, right?"
"I did. As far as any agency knows, a family member finally turned up to get her," McGonagall said.
"Sorry," Rose interrupted. "What's a No-Maj?"
"Someone with No Magic. Minerva here probably called them muggles."
"Right," Rose said, embarrassed by her lack of knowledge.
"Now, once we get the correct permits cleared, we will alter the memory of her case worker, and that should be everything," the woman said.
"Wait, you are going to alter his memory?! Why?" Rose asked, shocked.
"For his safety. Dear, You-Know-Who and his followers never came to America. The last thing we need is for them to come here and start attacking an innocent No-Maj to get information on you. This way, he never mentions you again, and there is no reason for MACUSA to get caught up in that nonsense. Now, if you will follow me, we have a fire set up to send you home."
She began walking up the staircase. Professor McGonagall and Rose followed her.
"Is- is she upset with me?" Rose asked Professor McGonagall under her breath.
"Not with you. MACUSA prided themselves on staying out of European conflicts back when You-Know-Who was in power. They prefer relative isolation and the illusion of safety it gives them over magical cooperation. They were only too happy to contact the Ministry when they heard you were here. They have maintained peace for years by simply ignoring the wars and suffering of others," Professor McGonagall whispered back, sure to speak quietly enough they weren't overheard.
"Right through here," the smiling American witch said, ushering them through a door into a small room. There wasn't much in the room except a small fireplace where there was a fire burning. Its flames were emerald green. "Everything has been arranged. It's been a pleasure, Minerva, Rose," the witch said, and then left the room, shutting the door behind her.
"I don't understand. Are we waiting here until morning?" Rose asked, looking around the small room. There was no furniture. She couldn't imagine attempting to spend the night there.
"Of course not," Professor McGonagall said. "They wouldn't allow us to stay any longer even if we were so inclined. The floo network is travel through fireplaces. You need special permission to travel country to country, which is why it needs to be done through MACUSA."
"I'm sorry, did you say through the fireplace?" Rose asked, eying the emerald flames suspiciously.
"Yes. Of course. It's quite safe. You simply need to step into the flames, and say "The Leaky Cauldron". You'll come out in the fireplace on the other end. Tom, he owns the place, is waiting on the other end. I'll follow shortly after. Make sure you speak clearly, mind, or there is no telling where you'll end up."
Any mode of travel that involved stepping into flames of any kind that had the potential to send you somewhere random sounded less than safe to Rose, but she figured she had come this far now. Plus, if Professor McGonagall was telling the truth, she wasn't sure the MACUSA witch would be very welcoming if Rose decided to turn back now. She nodded, and Professor McGonagall gestured her forward.
Rose stepped into the emerald flames. They didn't burn her, but the air was hot. It nearly burned her to breath. "The Leaky Cauldron," she managed to say with attempted confidence. It felt as though the ground was jerked out from underneath her. She felt as though she was twisting through space. She could see fireplaces rushing past her, moving too quickly for her to get a good look at. Rose felt as though she would be sick. Then, as suddenly as it had started, her feet hit solid ground once more. She was stumbling out of a fireplace in a small pub.
It was dingy looking, and Rose felt instantly as though it had seen better days. Although it had been night moments ago, the sun was rising outside the windows. Rose realized with a jolt she really was no longer in New York. Somehow, after seeing a woman transform into a cat, stepping into flames and traveling across an ocean in a matter of seconds really sealed the deal on the whole magic thing for her.
"Rose Potter?" a voice asked. Rose turned to look. It was an older, bald man.
"Yes," she said, a little nervously. "Are you Tom?"
He beamed, pleased that she knew who he was. "I am. Oh, Miss Potter. It really is an honor," he said, and shook her hand vigorously.
"Uh- thanks?" she said, more a question than anything, not used to eliciting this response from people.
"Oh please, sit down. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Butterbeer?"
"Relax, Tom," McGonagall's voice came from behind Rose. Rose turned to see her brushing soot off of her emerald robe. "She's had a long night and hasn't had time to adjust to the time change. Perhaps if you could just show her to her room?"
"Oh yes, of course," Tom said excitedly. "Right this way."
Rose and McGonagall followed Tom up a wooden staircase to a door with a brass number 11 on it. Rose smiled, eleven for her eleventh birthday. Though, she did realize that with the travel it was no longer her birthday. That was okay, it had certainly been one for the books. Tom unlocked the door and swung it open for her.
Rose faced room with a comfortable looking bed and a crackling fire. She realized this would be the first time in her life she had a room to herself. She took a step through the door. Her backpack was sitting on top of a polished oak wardrobe.
"If you need anything, Miss Potter, please let me know," Tom said, bowing on his way out.
Rose turned to face McGonagall.
"Er- Professor, I know you mentioned my parents left me some money, but I really don't think I can pay for this room."
McGonagall huffed. "Nonsense. Your stay is already taken care of. Food as well. Now get some sleep."
"After all this? I don't think I'm going to be doing any sleeping, Professor."
McGonagall looked at her appraisingly, before sighing.
"All right, I was going to take you to get your school supplies tomorrow after you had some time to rest, but if you would like to go now?"
"YES!" Rose said, then catching herself, "I mean, I would really like that if you have the time."
McGonagall suppressed a chuckle. "You really are your mother's daughter. Very well, follow me."
Rose followed McGonagall back down the staircase and out the back of the pub, into a small dingy courtyard. McGonagall walked up to a solid brick wall and pulled out what must be a wand from a pocket of her cloak and confidently tapped one of the bricks. Rose chuckled a little at the thought that somehow that wasn't the strangest thing she had seen in the last 24 hours.
The bricks in the wall began shifting, opening into a large archway that opened out onto a crowded cobbled street lined with shops. Compared to New York it looked like something out of the history books, but stranger. Most of the adults on the streets were wearing cloaks and robes and swirled as they walked. The children seemed to be wearing normal clothes, though some of them had very obviously never spent much time around muggles and hadn't managed to get the styles quite right. Rose realized her baggy thrift store clothes would fit right in on this street.
The shops were also all a little off. Rose couldn't see all of them from the archway, but there were cauldrons and brooms in the few she could see. Plus, a sign for a sale on beetle eyes.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley, Miss Potter," McGonagall said, stepping briskly onto the cobbled street.
Rose let out a low whistle, head turning as she tried to see everything at once. "We're not in Kansas anymore," she said softly.
"I thought the place you lived was called New York City? Was I mistaken? I can never keep track."
Rose laughed. "Nevermind. Where are we headed first? Beetle eye sale? Cauldrons? What all do I need for school anyway?"
"Nonsense, first we must go to your parents' bank vault, but that reminds me. I almost forgot your school list. It normally comes with your acceptance letter, but since you were a special case, I came to collect you in person." She pulled a folded up piece of parchment from her robes and handed it to Rose.
"A wand?!" Rose asked excitedly reading it. "I get a wand?"
"Well of course, how else would you learn spells?"
"I don't know, I thought maybe it was a little like learning to drive. You don't get your own car right up front. You start out with a learner's permit and a driving instructor."
"The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Potter. Another wizard's wand will never work as well for you. Every witch and wizard starting Hogwarts must have their own."
"What do you mean, 'the wand chooses the wizard'?"
"You'll find out soon enough. We're here."
They had reached the end of the street. In front of them stood a large, grand white marble building.
"Wow. What is this place?"
"Gringott's bank. Some say it is the safest place in the wizarding world. Complete nonsense of course. The safest place is wherever Professor Dumbledore is. Right now, that's Hogwarts."
"Minerva!" A gruff voice called, sounding out of breath. "Minerva! Been tryin' ter catch up with you since Flourish and Blotts."
Rose turned to see a huge, wild looking man running toward them. Her first instinct was to flinch backward a little, but all she saw in McGonagall's eyes was mild annoyance. The man was over twice as tall as Rose, much larger than an average man, and had a wild looking beard.
"And you mus' be Rose," the man said, beaming at Rose as he caught up with the two women. "I've been waiting years ter see you again."
"Er-nice to meet you?" she said, though it came out as more of a question.
"Oh, sorry. That's right. You wouldn't remember me. Name's Rubeus Hagrid. I was a friend o' yer parents."
"Hagrid, what are you doing here?" McGonagall asked.
"Dumbledore asked me ter pick something up from Gringott's for him," Hagrid said proudly.
"You can't mean-"
"The very same. Dumbledore trusts me. Great man he is."
McGonagall squinted at Hagrid a moment, appraisingly. Then, glanced down at Rose.
"Hagrid, why don't the three of us head down into the bank together? It will give you time to catch up with Rose here, and then I can help you take the package back to Hogwarts?"
"Now Minerva, Dumbledore sent me ter get it. I think I can manage just fine."
"I have no doubt, but you can't deny that it would certainly be safer to have a little magic to help the trip along?"
Hagrid shot a guilty glance down at a pink umbrella he was holding.
"Oh, I s'pose, but only ter get a chance ter talk to Rose here."
Rose wasn't sure what exactly had just happened, but she didn't exactly love the thought of being used as a bartering chip. She was nothing special after all. She wasn't used to people being eager to spend time with her. However, she trusted Professor McGonagall, so she said nothing, and the three of them turned to walk into the bank.
If the appearance of Hagrid, larger than normal men, had startled her outside, Rose was certainly unprepared for what she encountered as they walked through the doors. The inside was just as grand as the out, marble and elegance, but the bank was staffed with tiny… creatures was the only word Rose could come up with, for they certainly weren't human. They were human like, but had long fingers, ears, and noses. They peered up at the humans in the bank with leering smiles.
"Goblins," Hagrid whispered down to her. "Gringott's is a goblin bank. It's what makes it so safe."
"Oh sure, do we have to pass a Sphinx's riddle to get to the money as well?" Rose asked, sarcastically.
"I should bloody hope not. Sphinx's aren't anything ter mess with," he answered.
Rose made a mental note to not be sarcastic anymore. Too much of what had seemed fantasy was now reality. It wasn't playing well.
The three walked up to one of the goblins sitting at a counter.
"Yes?" The goblin asked, his voice gravely.
"We are here to access Miss Potter's family vault," Professor McGonagall said.
"Do you have the key?"
"Of course," she answered, pulling a small golden key from her pocket and handing it to Rose who took it with a slightly trembling hand. Rose realized as she held the key that it was the first thing in her life she had ever held of her parents'.
"We also need in vault 713. Official business from Dumbledore," Hagrid said, pulling out a letter and handing it to the goblin who read it over with skepticism.
"Very well, this all seems to be in order, follow me."
The three of them followed the goblin down a hallway and through a door. The surroundings were suddenly less grand. They seemed to be standing in a dingy underground tunnel now. In front of them was a small wooden cart on a track. Their goblin guide climbed in, and McGonagall and Hagrid followed. Rose gave the cart one last skeptical glance before following them in.
The moment she sat, the cart sped off. They flew down the tracks. They must have been descending deep into the London underground, guided by magic, because it was nearly pitch black. Every now and then a torch lit the tunnel and Rose tried to get a look around, but they were moving too quickly. After a few minutes, the cart came to a jolting stop. McGonagall climbed out and Rose followed.
"Are you coming Hagrid?" McGonagall asked.
"I think I'll sit this one out," Hagrid said, looking a little green.
Rose felt bad. She tried not to show how thrilling she had found it.
"Here we are. Vault 687, the Potter family vault," the goblin said, pointing to a door.
Rose pulled out her key and unlocked it, swinging open the door. She let out a small gasp. Inside the vault were small heaps of gold, silver, and copper coins covering the entire floor.
"As I said, Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall said softly from behind her, "your parents left you more than enough. Here," She handed Rose a small coin purse, "it's enchanted, bigger on the inside. This should be enough to last you a couple years at Hogwarts." She helped Rose put some handfuls of each types of coins in the bag.
"What are these? Are the gold ones like dollars or something? Or I guess… what? Pounds?" Rose asked as the two climbed back into the cart and it took off again, flying deeper underground.
The goblin with them snorted. "That's muggle money you're talking, this doesn't quite translate. Though, if you ever need we do conversions on the ground floor." While the cart twisted and gained speed, he explained how the coins worked to Rose.
"All righ', no more talking," Hagrid said with a groan after a moment. He looked even greener than before. Rose guessed this wasn't his favorite way of travel.
"Don't worry, we're there. Vault 713," the goblin said as the cart came to another stop. This vault seemed older than the last one, less impressive.
Hagrid and the goblin climbed out this time. Rose went to follow, but McGonagall caught her arm, pulling her back into the cart. Rose's curiosity spiked. She leaned over to watch. The goblin ran a finger down the fault door, and the whole door vanished, revealing a near empty vault. There was one small, grubby package inside, which Hagrid grabbed and stuffed inside his jacket. As they climbed back inside the cart, the vault door reappeared, and the cart started climbing up again.
"What's in the package?" Rose asked.
"Sorry Rose, official Hogwarts business. Can't say," Hagrid said, looking proud once again to have been chosen for the task.
Rose was still curious, but after a warning look from Professor McGonagall, quickly changed subjects.
"Professor Dumbledore must really trust you to have asked you to pick it up," she said with a smile. "Do you work at the school?"
Hagrid beamed at her.
"I do. Gamekeeper."
"Well then, I hope someday you'll have time for me to come visit and you can tell me about my parents?"
Hagrid's smile turned a little sad.
"O' course. Lily and James were some o' the best."
They had arrived back at the top of the track. They climb out and left the bank.
When they were out on the front steps again, McGonagall turned to Rose.
"Miss Potter, I know I said I would take you shopping today, but I really should accompany Hagrid back to Hogwarts. I can let Professor Dumbledore know you arrived safely while I am there as well. Will you be okay waiting until tomorrow? Tom will get you everything you need back at the Leaky Cauldron. You should rest anyway."
"Yeah, of course. I'll be fine" Rose said, though she was disappointed.
"One more thing," McGonagall said, pulling a small black box from her pocket. "This was your mother's. I know she would have wanted you to have it."
Rose accepted the small box, hands shaking. Her disappointment at not continuing her school shopping vanished. She was nearly completely unaware of their walk back to the Leaky Cauldron, or her goodbyes to Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. The box sat in the palm of her hand, feeling heavy with the sudden connection to her real life, her family, who she was. A day ago, Rose had known nothing about her family or where they had come from. She had never had anything from them. She had spent hours day dreaming about what they might have looked like, been like. And now? Here she was, about to attend the same school as them, a witch, holding a box that belonged to her mother.
Rose opened the box. Inside, on a small cushion, sat a necklace with a small golden lily charm. Rose smiled at it. The lily looked like the one the statue at the park held. Her mother watching over her still. She put the necklace on, and crawled into bed. Tomorrow, her new life would begin.