A/N
Hello my dear readers,
I am finally back with a new chapter. And some changes:
I) I kicked the terms "witch" and "wizard" (because they always annoyed me) and use "mage" instead.
II) Thannor is no longer a "Lord", because it didn't really fit into the context of Sylvan Academy
III) Voldemort's lieutenants are now called "knights" now. Because. Reasons.
IV) I had planned to introduce my pantheon of deities in the coming chapters, but decided they might as well play a role from the start. More details on them will be in the next chapter.
That's about it.
Time for the next step in James' journey.
Things are getting darker, the warnings are there for a reason.
o ~ Warnings at the end of the chapter ~ o
The great hall of Hogwarts was illuminated by the flames of thousand floating candles. The students talked lowly among themselves. Even the teachers waited for the sorting with tangible excitement. It was, after all, a special year.
Silence fell when the giant doors opened and Minerva McGonagall lead the first years in. In the mist of children, Headmaster Dumbledore looked for a certain girl.
There she was. It was hard to miss the black-haired, green-eyed Roslyn Potter. She looked around with undisguised awe and curiosity, taking the hall and the magic in.
During the sorting, she stayed with the friend she had made during the ride at the Hogwarts express. Ronald Weasley would be a wonderful friend indeed.
"Potter, Roslyn," Professor McGonagall called and all attention in the hall turned to her.
The girl went up the steps, shy at being put in the spotlight so abruptly, but steady. Minerva smiled ever so slightly, before Rose sat down and the hat covered her eyes.
It took less than a minute for the Sorting Hat to proclaim, "GRYFFINDOR!"
On the far left, the table in red and gold erupted with jubilation, and she sat down happily, being welcomed enthusiastically by the lions around her.
Her gaze went to the teachers table and as she looked at the headmaster. He raised his goblet at her with pride in his gentle eyes.
He had set Roslyn Potter on her destined path, for the greater good of the world.
o ~ O ~ o
Early Evening
7th May 1988
Hogwarts carriage No. 3, on the way to a location disguised by magic
Great Britain
Albus Dumbledore smiled to himself as he imagined this future. His charge slept on the seat across from him, safe and sound. And his spell ensured she would keep sleeping until morning.
His plan had unfolded beautifully, as his plan tended to.
A mild Confundus-charm on a business-letter to Lady Narcissa to ensure they would choose the Ministry instead of Gringotts. His old friend Elphias deserved credit for that part. Placing himself and Minerva just so they would choose the very first elevator, to keep Rose away from him. But of course, Severus needed to have the last word and instead of going with them, he had searched the confrontation. The boy had never learnt to pick his battles wisely.
Alice Longbottom had waited in the elevator, hidden under the cloak of invisibility.
His lips curled a little, remembering the one hitch in his plan. Alice had been hasty, despite his orders to wait until they were out Severus' sight.
It was indiscriminating, to be so close when Rose was taken, but he would have to do with it. After all, while Fawkes take him to his childhood home, Minerva had stayed to smooth over the worst waves. Nothing to worry about.
Still, obviating Alice was for the better, especially since she had been under the impression, he would let her care of Rose. Sadly, that was not possible or even desirable for the girl. No, he had long ago figured out the best option for her.
The carriage ride was a little bumpier than he would have liked, but it gave him the time for the last of his preparations.
Albus could not take the signet ring from Roslyn, as much as he wanted to spare her the responsibilities that came with it. But now, at least, Narcissa Malfoy couldn't lead the Potters' estate further away from the light.
Her new home was already prepared with secure wards, Rose would be safe there. Save from Tom's followers just as much as all unfavourable influences. Severus would be distraught for a while. But maybe he would agree to teach at Hogwarts again, so he could see her when she started her schooling… Yes, that might be an idea. None of the Professors for Potions had been quite as good as him.
But now he had work to do, Roslyn's memories would need modifying. Dumbledore had planned to erase all traces of her childhood thus far and therefore giving her a fresh start. He was aghast upon discovering mental barriers. Teaching such a young child Occlumency was irresponsible to the highest degree! It also prevented him from making her mind a clean slate…
Instead, he casted a seal on her memory, after enough time those old ones would be overpowered by new memories and experiences. Nothing too complicated. And he intended those memories to be the right ones.
The crafting of memories was a foreign art, a branch of mind magic seldom used. The crucial point was to implement a structure for the memory and allowing the mind itself to fill in the blanks. Too much details and it would be rejected as false.
'Truly a marvel, the human brain', Dumbledore thought as he began.
"Your parents were killed and you are living with us now," said a non-descriptive figure as Rose arrived at her new home. "You can't remember because of the shock."
"Let's play together," her cousin said, "I like having you live with us!"
"Very good, dear," Petunia praised, "You are doing well."
"Your parents loved you."
"You are special."
"There was no one else to take you."
Albus breathed deeply as he was done, the spells having taken a toll on him. But it would be well worth it.
At least he sealed Roslyn's magic, so no accidental magic would occur before she came to Hogwarts. The ministry sticking their noses into this matter would do no good. Now her core could rest from the strain the early training had put on her. It had the additional effect to make her invisible to magical creatures, such as that little house-elf of hers.
Yes, he had thought of everything.
Blissfully ignorant, he didn't search her pockets. Albus didn't find her beloved pocket-watch. Or the pocket-knife fastened to the inside her left boot.
The carriage came to a slow stop, the enchantments on it making sure muggle neighbour would not take notice of it. Or the old man in a robe carrying a small child towards the door of 4 Privet Drive.
He left ten minutes later, leaving two equally confused and furious people behind.
o ~ O ~ o
Early Evening
7 May 1988
Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic
London, England
"I AM FINE! GO LOOK FOR JAMES!"
"I'll make a risky guess and say we found Narcissa."
And other time, Charlotte might have reprimanded her brother for such a comment, but his attempt at humour didn't fool either her or Thannor. His pale face was lined with worry and he had a death-grip on his staff.
"GO AND FIND HER!"
"He is trying to help you, Narcissa," Charlotte stopped the other mage from verbally flaying the Auror trying to keep her in a seat.
"You are here!"
Lady Malfoy looked a lot worse for wear, lose strands out of her bun hanging around her face and it seemed like breathing pained her.
Charlotte took her arm, "Let me take a look at you?"
Narcissa shook her head, but didn't move otherwise, "Severus is with the Aurors, in Crouch's office. - I need to… I need to…"
"Thannor and Jurriaan will go to him," with a nod she let them know she would take care of Narcissa and they could cover other fronts.
"Is there a free room? Where we may talk undisturbed?" she asked the Auror, who still looked wearily at Narcissa, as if she might start screeching at him any given second.
"… Yes, there is a first aid room down the corridor, ma'am - I can show you?"
"Please do. Thank you very much."
With a closed door between them and the world, Narcissa seemed to crumple. She gracelessly fell onto the closest chair, drawing a breath that sounded more like a sob.
"Easy!" Charlotte knelt in front of her, casting a quick diagnostic charm. Narcissa was in a state of shock, as much was expected, but her chest was bruised, badly enough to turn her breathing painful and shallow. That kind of injury was typical for an overpowered stunner from little distance. The fact had not sunken in yet, but Narcissa could've very well died from the spell, it was liable to cause cardiac arrest.
A cold shiver ran down Charlotte's spine. However, had taken Jim had been willing to kill.
"It is my fault…"
The whisper pulled her from her darkening thoughts. Narcissa was crying.
Not polite, small droplets, but choking, gut wrenching tears that left eyes red for hours, "It is my fault!"
"No! How can you think that? You -"
"I wanted to go to the ministry!" Narcissa was almost screaming again, but with pain, "And… And I…I LET HER GO!"
Charlotte held her, as Narcissa raged and wailed, "I let her go!"
o ~ O ~ o
Early Evening
7th May 1988
Home of the Dursley family
Location indiscernible, presumably somewhere in Great Britain
Vernon and Petunia Dursleys stared at the child laying out cold on their settee.
One of them was in their home, when they had sworn, it would never come to it. Petunia was biting her nails, watching the eight-year-old as if she was a venomous viper.
She looks like her no-good father, she noted, shivering. She remembered the last time she had seen him and Lily, during their engagement party. It had ended with a terrible fight between some mages and she and Vernon had to flee the place to not get injured in the crossfire. She had never answered another letter from Lily since. She had not been to her wedding. She had never met her daughter until now. She had not been to the funeral of her little sister…
"What are we going to do with her?" Vernon was still furious about being ordered around in his own home by a freak in a magenta dress.
With her godfathers dead, I need you to raise her.
They could not send her away now, could they?
"She sadly lost her memories. I trust, you'll give her a good home. You are the only family she has left."
No memory of exceptional Lily. No memory of her worthless father. No memory of creepy, dangerous Snape-boy.
She can be ours. She could be mine!
This thought made her tremble. Petunia had always wanted a daughter… And the longer she looked at her, the more she seemed to be just a child. The features were alien, of course, aside from the eyes. She reminded Petunia of her own father, when he used to fall asleep in his armchair after a long day. And Lily, sleeping at her desk while reading in her books…
Lily. Who had also seemed like just a little girl… Perfect Lily who got to have a daughter and then got herself killed.
"We just put her into the guest-room, Vernon."
"But where should Magda stay when she visits?!"
She didn't reply with what she wanted to say, that the farther is horrible sister stayed away, the better.
"We are tiered and the girl is asleep, dear. Tomorrow we can sort this mess."
Vernon's face was still red, but he calmed a bit at his wife's reasoning. Nodding resolutely, as if it had been his idea in the first place, he heaved himself up, "Alright. Alright, Tuny."
o ~ O ~ o
"JAMES, let me out!"
Had Tom been a being with a body, his voice would've been hoarse already.
"I am sorry! Whatever I did, I am sorry! Please let me out! PLEASE!"
He slumped against the metaphysical door, too exhausted to hold the tears back, "Please… don't leave me…"
Memories from his time in the orphanage threatened to drown him, old fear and desolation mixing with his current terror and confusion.
Tom wrapped his arms around himself, trying in fain to keep himself together, trying to reason with himself.
Part of him knew, James would never imprison him like this, that she lacked the cruelty to do it. But that lead only to his initial conclusion: Something was wrong! James was probably in danger and there was nothing he could do.
He silently cried, as much for himself as for his only friend.
o ~ O ~ o
Early Evening
7th May 1988
Interrogation room B, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic
London, England
"Where is James?" Moody was all but growling.
"I cannot believe you are acting like this!" McGonagall was outraged, trying to sit prim and proper with her hands in cuffs and a horde of Aurors glaring daggers at her. "How dare you accusing me, Alastor! You have known me for -"
"Exactly," his bright blue eye was intently focused on her, "I know you. And I know Albus. He cooked some plan up to get a hold of James. And you played along, because you truly believe that he is always right."
She pressed her lips into a thin line, but didn't reply.
"You kidnapped an eight-year-old girl!" That came from Benji Fenwick, who had always had a soft spot for James.
"I did no such thing," McGonagall replied coldly, not looking at her former student.
"The longer you stay silent, the worst it gets, Minerva," Moody was angry himself, but knew showing that would not get the point across. "And we are not talking about you losing your job here. This will get you time in Azkaban."
He lent forward, into her personal place, "If James gets hurt, I will personally assure that every guard on that forsaken island will know, what you did."
o ~ O ~ o
Early Evening
7th May 1988
Office Head of Department, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic
London, England
Severus sat with the head of department of magical law enforcement, Bartemius Crouch, and his second, Amelia Bones. Both were not the biggest fans of the Potions master, or that he didn't spend a day in prison for his crimes as a Death Eater. They were willing to set that aside for the situation at hand. A child had been kidnapped, in the Ministry of Magic no less.
"We didn't get a hold of Dumbledore yet," Amelia announced with a grim face, "Permission to go to Hogwarts?"
"Granted," Crouch replied and sent her away with a nod before shifting his focus back to Severus.
"Lord Prince, we need to follow every lead in this - Albeit I agree, Mr Dumbledore acted suspiciously, we know where to find him. Did you receive threats or strange mail?"
"Heaps of it," Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, "Lady Malfoy has every… unpleasant letter ever addressed to James."
"Lady Potter didn't read them?"
He shook his head, "Either Narcissa or myself read them beforehand, if there were not from her friends or family."
"That was a good call," Crouch said unexpectedly, "She was raised protected as far as I can tell."
'Not protected enough,' Severus thought bitterly.
"Someone took advantage of a rare chance today." Crouch concluded when it became apparent Severus would remain silent. "Lady Potter was outside of Sylvan Academy, somewhere public." He took his pipe out of his mouth and watched the smoke a moment. Before he could make his point, there was a knock at the door and it was opened before Crouch could say something.
Severus was beyond grateful to not only see Thannor, but also Jurriaan.
The principal immediately monopolised the head of department, "Sir Crouch, I presume - I heard a lot of good things about you."
Jurriaan was at Severus' side before he could fully stand up, "Mon beau."
He didn't say anything more, he had no words, nothing but empty reassurances that refused to come forth. Instead, he moved to embrace him, but stopped half-way, unsure if the gesture was welcome at the moment. He didn't need worried as his boyfriend met him halfway, almost falling against him.
"I am here," he murmured, not complaining about Severus' almost painful hold of him. He didn't cry or curse as Narcissa did in another room, but there was an almost violent tremble taking hold of his tall form.
Jurriaan hold him, as if to try and keep him together as he threatened to break, "I am here," he repeated.
"We will find her, Severus," he promised and he meant it. There was no way, he would lose the two of them.
o ~ O ~ o
Tom had stopped crying, but the tears were still wet on his cheeks. He had no idea how much time had passed, with him curled up and in front of a door that might as well have been ten inches of magical enforced concrete.
But he felt calmer, the panic had subsided - at least for the time being - and he could think again.
James had not looked him up, that he accepted as a given. On the other hand, it was her realm…
They had been on the way for the adoption-ceremony, he had left her on her own for that. When he had tried to leave his room again, likely hours later, it had been sealed. Maybe someone had used the opportunity that James had left the safety of Sylvan Academy?
Death Eaters could be ruled out, as James had once so poetically put it, they would kill her and be done with it, not crucify her at Diagon Alley.
Kendrick Potter? Would've killed her as well, there was no advantage for him in keeping her alive.
Dumbledore… Dumbledore didn't want her with Severus or at Sylvan! Had he done something to James, to ensure her compliance? Mother Magic knew she would throw her magic around without a lick of restrain otherwise.
Muttering every swear word he had learnt from James, he pulled himself up and did what he should have done from the start instead of throwing a tantrum like a muggle child. Using his magic to examine the door.
Long strands of thick, ugly… orange went criss-cross over the wood, a kind of magic he didn't recognise. Something messing with James' mind.
He wanted to scream. Someone had dared to put a spell on her, the one person in the world he had. The one person who loved him!
Gritting his teeth, he reached out with his own magic, hellbent on breaking that spell. As strong as his intent was, doing magic was hard for him. It felt like trying to saw through an iron-chain with a kitchen-knife. The strand of magic frayed, like a twisted robe slowly being sliced. Tom barely managed a dent when he needed to stop, feeling out of breath. He waited - expected the damage to heal as he watched. But the lose strands kept floating aimlessly in mid-air.
He allowed himself a smile. Tom had his work cut out for him, but it was doable. That was all he needed.
o ~ O ~ o
2.27 a.m.
8th May 1988
Home of the Dursley family
Location indiscernible, presumably somewhere in Great Britain
She was shaken awake, not realising the screaming she heard came from her own throat.
"Enough now!" The woman stopped shaking her when she fell silent. The girl stared at the unfamiliar face, long and sharp edged, with ash-blond hair and lips pressed together in disapproval.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
Did she? She couldn't remember the dream. She couldn't remember…
She scooted away from the stranger, until her back was pressed against the headboard of the bed.
"What's the girl doing, Petunia?"
She looked at man who had asked. He stood in the doorway, build like a boulder and puffing like a steam engine. There was also a boy standing behind him, who looked as confused as she felt.
The woman called Petunia, looked a little irritated at her, "Speak up. Did you have a nightmare?"
She tried to answer, if only to ask where she was and who there were.
Who am I?
She felt sick to her stomach, realising she didn't remember her own name. She wanted to scream the questions, but not a word came from her mouth.
Hopeless tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head, trying to make herself understood.
"Gods gracious, do you think she is wrong in the head, Tuny? - Answer your aunt, girl!"
She flinched, scared by his towering appearance and harsh voice.
"She lost her voice from all the shrieking," the woman replied, looking at her as if she were a particular kind of animal.
"Don't do that again, girl! You scared our Dudley!"
"I am not scared," the boy next to the man mumbled.
"Everyone back to bed!" The woman stood and made shewing motions towards her family. She looked down at the girl, shaking her head, "We'll talk tomorrow. Get some sleep. Rose."
She closed the door behind her and left the girl - Rose, as she presumed her name was - alone in the darkness.
Rose felt feverish and weak, as if she had been sick for some time. She stood, taking care to be quiet as she clumsily made her way to the door and switched the lights back on.
The room was small and smelled weird. Everything from the floral design of the eiderdown cover to the strangely impersonal fittings was alien to her.
'This is not my room.'
Her next question was if she even had a room. And if that was so, why was she here?
As Dumbledore had planned, these questions prompted the magic he worked on her mind to activate. Not the way he had intended, though. Among his many fallacies, the deep-rooted believe that family loved each other , had caused harm before and now did so again. James' first interaction with the family Dumbledore had intended for her, had been scary and distant.
The spell did what it had been weaved to do. Filling the blanks in the false memories, using the impressions gathered by the girl who thought of herself as 'Rose'.
"Where are my parents?"
"They got themselves killed," Aunt Petunia had answered without looking at her, busy with something else.
"Why can't I remember them?"
"Because of the shock - Now stop asking questions!"
"Are you bothering your aunt, girl?" Uncle Vernon thundered from the other room.
"… No, Uncle Vernon," she had answered dejectedly.
Rose could not remember them, but the pain was sharp enough to draw tears.
'My parents are dead. Mom and Dad are gone…'
'That's why,' she thought, 'I live with my aunt and uncle now. No one else wants me.'
She felt utterly abandoned.
o ~ O ~ o
Morning
8th May 1988
Home of the Dursley family
Location indiscernible, presumably somewhere in Great Britain
For the third time this morning Petunia Dursley approached the door to the guest-bedroom. Without any real intentions to open it, despite her best efforts to convince herself otherwise. But she didn't want to miss the service just because this… child was in her home. And they could not just leave her alone - god knew what might happened until they were back - or if there would be a house to come back to.
"Don't be silly, Petunia," she muttered, "Dumbledore told you she can't use it until she is at that damn school!"
Before her burst of bravery could subside, she threw the door open.
The bed was empty.
She wondered if yesterday had just been some kind of fever-dream. Maybe the guest-bedroom was as empty as it was supposed to be until Magda and her horrible dog came to haunt them?
No, of course not. The bed was in disarray, the cushion and duvet were missing. Annoyed at the disorder, Petunia looked for the girl.
She was curled up in a tide ball in the furthest corner of the room, almost hidden from view aside from the shock of black hair.
Lily used to sleep like that at that age, when a thunderstorm had spooked her…
"Rose, wake up," and before she could stop herself, Petunia added, "You can stop hiding from the world now."
How many times had she coaxed out her little sister out of that ball of anxiety with those words?
This ball, unlike Lily, moved immediately. And with the face visible, Petunia was confronted with a face that would never fit into her family. Dark skin, unsettling eyes, and that horrid scar. This child would never pass as normal.
And still, she was not speaking. Rose did try, then an annoyed face and then gave Petunia a little wave as a good morning.
Petunia smiled, or at least tried to. She mentioned the girl - your niece, she reminded herself, she is your niece! - to get up.
Rose did and just now Petunia realised she still wore the same robes as yesterday. More strangeness.
"You need to sleep in the bed, Rose. Now come, with me, you need to clean up!"
Petunia's lips thinned, Vernon had not even removed the child's boots yesterday! The carpet would need a thorough cleaning.
Already planning a big clean-out, she herded Rose absentmindedly into the bathroom, "Do you know how the shower works?"
Rose nodded. Those poison-green eyes unnerved Petunia, just as the muteness. Or that she had yet to see a smile from her.
She ignored the fact that Rose had nothing to smile about.
"Good! Get into the shower - I'll search for some clothes for you," she said and fled the room.
Rose was eager to familiarise herself with her new environment, but her aunt didn't strike her as the patient type. She should probably get into the shower first…
"Is the girl up, Tuny?"
Rose flinched. Vernon's voice seemed to rang through the whole house. She couldn't make out Petunia's answer, but Vernon's default volume seemed to be 'screaming', "We need to get rid of her freakish stuff! Best we burn it!"
He laughed as if he had made a joke.
"Best we burn it"!?
All colour drained from Rose' face. What she had on her body was all she had in the world. The only thing from parents she couldn't remember!
What can you do about it? Rose didn't recognise the ruff inner voice that prompted this question, but somehow knew it was important to know the answer. What could she do?
Do I have something small I can hide? Rose searched frantically in her pockets. The hodgepodge of little stones, bits of dried plants and colourful shells was pretty but not what she had hoped for. Also, why was there enough sand to build a small castle -
The pocket watch lay smooth and heavy in her hand and she somehow knew it was made of gold.
Steps approached the door and Rose hid her find withing the creases of her robe.
"Stop dilly-dallying!" Petunia placed a small pile of clothes on the edge of the sink, "We don't have all day!"
'I need a place to hide this!'
Or did she…
Her aunt had brought her some underwear, a pair of well-worn jeans and a shirt big enough to be a short dress for her. If she filled her pockets, none would be the wiser.
Rose started to undressed, only to find a knife of all things strapped to the inside of her boot!
'First: How cool is that? Second: Why do I have a knife in my shoe?!'
And she wore a necklace, a signet ring on a silver chain. At least this on was easy to hide.
"Are you finally in the shower?"
Instead of an answer, she shoved her watch and knife under the pile of fresh towels and almost jumped into the shower, starting the water.
It took less than a minute, then someone - supposedly Petunia - came in, followed by the rustling of fine cloth. She had really gone and taken what was hers without asking or even telling her!
'Maybe she wants to wash them…?'
Rose doubted that.
She didn't stay long under the water, just enough to get clean, not wanting to risk that her little stash was discovered. Also, every product on the shelfs smelled strange.
'Doesn't anything in this house smell right?'
When she towelled her hair, it turned from messy to worse, she almost wanted to laugh.
Watching herself in the mirror, she wondered who that girl was that looked back at her. How she got that gnarly scar covering almost half her face for example…
The trousers fit her well enough, to safely store her belongings and under the big shirt, none would be the wiser.
'What now?'
She couldn't stay in the bathroom all day, that much was clear. Also, she was hungry.
Rose went downstairs, trying to take all the details in at once. She looked closely at the pictures hanging at the stairwell wall. Her aunt and uncle on their wedding day. Lots of pictures of her cousin Dudley. Some of an unpleasant looking woman that might have been Vernon's twin.
What was not there was even more interesting: No pictures of Rose' parents or her.
'No one else wanted me. They didn't want me either…'
"Hello."
Rose looked at the boy at the foot of the stairs. In the light of day, Dudley looked a lot like his mother. Same blue eyes, blond hair, and fair skin. None would think him and Rose cousins.
She raised her hand, giving him a little wave.
Dudley looked puzzled, "Can you not talk?"
Rose shook her head, then made an exaggerate shrug.
"… And you don't know why?"
She nodded.
"Huh… Want breakfast?"
This time, the nod was much more enthusiastically.
She followed Dudley into the open kitchen. Vernon and Petunia already sat at the dining table, drinking tea and Vernon read some kind of newspaper.
"Mom, do we have Cheerios?"
"Of course, darling. I brought some yesterday."
Rose watched him ran to the pantry, ignoring his mother's nagging, and grabbed some boxes of cereal.
"Do you want boring or Apple cinnamon?"
She really wanted to know what 'boring' tasted like, but she mentioned to the other box. Her stomach demanded food, not experiments.
"Good choice!"
Dudley grabbed bowls and spoons for them, "You get the milk!"
Rose looked around, unsure where to find anything in the unfamiliar space.
"In the fridge," he added as if it was obvious.
She tilted her head.
'What is a fridge?'
Her cousin looked at her as if she was slow, crazy or both, "You know what a fridge is? Right?"
"Don't bother," Petunia went to the fridge and took the milk to the table, "She… is probably still confused."
"Wrong in the head, that one," Vernon muttered while Rose was fascinated with the light and coldness inside the cupboard.
"Rose, sit down!"
She did, reluctantly, but was soon wolfing down cereal next to Dudley.
What are you going to do with her? Petunia wondered. Dudley seemed curious about her more than anything else, her little angel.
But she was so obviously different. She would never fit in. Not with normal people.
She was eight, three more years until she was old enough for the school. Was is it even worth it to try to make her a part of the family?
When looking at her husband, and the way he glared at Rose, the answer was no. Vernon would tolerate her presence, out of duress, but nothing more.
But the question remained the same: What to do with the girl?
o ~ O ~ o
A few hours later, Rose was left to her own devices. The Dursleys had left to go to church a few minutes ago. Dudley was pretty unhappy that Rose was sparred the hour of boredom. She had received strict instructions for her to stay inside, not break anything and be as inconspicuous as possible.
What did they expect her to do? Burn the house down? Judging by the way Vernon looked at her, not an unreasonable guess.
'More questions…'
Like what she was supposed to do now.
First order of things: Find a hiding spot for her belongings. She could explore the house at the same time.
One the ground floor was the small hallway with a cupboard under the stairs and a little bathroom, the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room. Nothing caught her attention, but… it was odd. So much white and no decorations. The rooms seemed empty to her.
The upper floor wasn't much better. The room she had woken up in, a small workroom or office, and the bedrooms of her aunt and uncle and Dudley. Her cousin's room was the shiny exemption, lots of toys and a mild chaos that seemed more real than anything else in this house. She didn't want to snoop, so she closed the door again.
Roslyn went back to 'her room', not knowing what else to call it.
Aside from the bed, bedside table and build-in cupboards, there wasn't anything there, furniture-wise. The floor was carpeted, so no hunting for lose floorboards either…
"Maybe under there," she murmured and got on her knees to look under the bed.
Some storage boxes with whatever, but it was not too packed. She could easily slip her stuff between the slatted frame and the mattress. There wouldn't even be an indent visible.
"That's one problem solved."
Rose looked at the pocket knife, strangely reluctant to hide it away. The wood of the handle was smooth, the weight felt good in her hand. Without an idea where or how she got it, she knew it mattered to her.
o ~ O ~ o
Tom continued to unravel the magical seal, despite the pain in his hands. The skin was angry red, the tips began to scald.
It had started hours ago, no doubt some failsafe against tempering. But it didn't matter. Every moment he was in here, James was alone!
And he feared once he stopped, he couldn't bring himself to start again.
Another moment stretched into hours, another thin strand giving.
o ~ O ~ o
Flipped open, the blade looked wickedly sharp.
"What did I use you for?" Rose murmured out load.
On the other side was a name etched into the metal, 'Cursebreaker'.
"Now that sounds…" she fell silent, searching for the word.
'Cool, beautiful, amazing, yes, but… Not mystic but close… Why am I thinking of Gandalf now of all times?'
Behind her eye, the sharp pain of onsetting headache flared up.
o ~ O ~ o
The seal pulsed. Before Tom could step back, it's magic lashed out.
He landed on the floor in a crumbled heap, trying in vain to keep a whimper in.
"James…"
She is fighting it too. She might not even know it, but she is fighting it.
Exhaustion took hold and slowly the pain from his hands seeped into his conciseness.
Slowly he got up, propping himself up with the elbows instead of hands.
o ~ O ~ o
Rose rubbed over her eyes, not knowing that they had turned a cloudy grey.
"What's wrong with me?" she murmured, while colour slowly returned to her irises.
She stashed knife and watch into the hiding place, reasonably certain the Dursley's would not find them. After all, why would someone lift up a mattress?
Still feeling dizzy she got herself something to drink in the kitchen. And to inspect the fridge-thing - that thing still confused her. After all, why was it the only cold cupboard in the kitchen? And how did the light inside it work?
Maybe Petunia would answer her when she came back from…
"Since when can I talk again?" she glared at the curious metal box on the counter as if it knew the answer.
At least her chances to getting some answers were exponentially higher. Now that she could actually ask questions.
Only thing left to do was killing time.
Rose ended up in the living-room again and with nothing else to do, she looked through the small bookshelf. 'Murder at the Vicarage' caught her eye. She pulled the paperback out, without knowing why.
"You are too young for that one, Corbillat" the man said. He was every tall, but there was nothing intimidating about him.
"But Daaad," she whined, holding the book close like a treasure.
The man with black hair and black eyes smiled at her. She loved seeing him smile.
Rose blinked rapidly, trying to hold on to the memory. But the details slipped away like water through spread fingers. What remained was the feeling she had lost something important yet again.
Tears streamed over her face and she did not bother to stop them. There was, after all, nobody that cared either way.
o ~ O ~ o
The Dursleys came back later than usual from the Sunday-service, both adults hoping against all hope that the house-guest might have disappeared into thin air.
Vernon steamrolled through the hallway and Petunia flinched at the tone of voice he used with Rose seconds later.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, GIRL?!"
She did not run after him, certainly not. Maybe she walked a little bit faster than usual, but that was unrelated.
Her niece sat on the carpet, her back against the sofa and a book in her lap. And with a terrified look on her face.
Everything was undisturbed, as if Rose had not touched anything else the whole time they were gone.
"Vernon, please stop screaming! What did she do?"
"She took one of our books!" Thankfully he spoke at an almost normal volume now. Still, those were her books, if anyone's.
"And read it. While she sat here and behaved, dear. I don't see a problem."
His face grew redder, but knew she was right, even if he would never say it out load.
"Don't damage that, girl!" he grunted at Rose, without even really looking at her.
"That's rich, coming from someone putting dog-ears on every second page of his books," Petunia thought. Instead of saying that, she only signed.
"Do you want me help make some lunch?"
Rose nodded, immediately standing up and putting the book back to its place. Petunia knew this arrangement would not work for long, but there was a very small voice inside her head, questioning if it was Rose, who was the problem.
"Er… I can speak again." said a hauntingly familiar voice.
Petunia stared at her niece. She sounded like Lily.
"That's… that's nice," she managed.
The child looked her with those eerily eyes and seemed to know she had caught her on the wrong foot. "How can I help you?"
"How about you… cut the tomatoes and some salad? Do you like sandwiches?"
"Yes, I do."
Petunia was still shaken but went to toast bread for sandwiches and took ham, cheese, and mayo from the fridge.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Please. Don't ask about your mom", Petunia begged silently. She might start crying if she had to talk about Lily now.
"How is there light in the fridge?"
"…Pardon?"
"How is there light in the fridge? There is no candle."
"I…" Petunia shook her head. How could a child know so little of the world?
"Electricity make the light bulb… well light up."
Rose stopped washing vegetables and looked at her as if she were insane, "Electricity. Like in lightning?"
"How do you thing the lamps work?" her aunt asked, mentioning towards the ceiling.
"With a candle - like normal lamps? - Why do you have tame lighting in there?!"
Petunia let out a startled laugh, "Tame lightning. She is precious!"
Unworldly and strange. But precious. Just a child.
"Your uncle might have a book on basic electrical engineering somewhere," she said, still chuckling, "We can ask him during lunch."
Said child teared the salad leaves, "Does he hate me? Vernon, I mean."
"… Just keep your head down, for now, Rose," Petunia said instead of an answer, "Until he… we are all used to the new situation."
"Mom, I am hungry!" Dudley came running into the kitchen, out of his Sunday best and happy for it.
"Yes, in a moment, Dudders. And no running in the house."
Now it was Rose' turn to snort.
Dudley looked at her, grinning but trying to sound offended, "What?"
"Sorry, but… Dudders?"
"She called me worse -" "Dudley!" "You found your voice! Cool!"
He all but beamed at her, "Do you wanna play? We could -"
"Lunch first," Petunia interrupted him, "Set the table, Ickle Dudleykins."
"Mom!"
"TUNY! THE GIRL IS GONE!"
All of them flinched, startled by the sudden shift in the mood.
"She is here, Vernon. She is helping with lunch!"
Load grunting and even loader steps were heard as the massive man approached the kitchen. His gaze immediately fixed on Rose, "At least she makes herself useful."
"She can talk again, Dad!" Dudley proclaimed, because his cousin's eyes were firmly on the counter between her and Vernon.
Vernon sneered at the news, "You better know when to keep her mouth should, girl."
He didn't wait for a reply, muttering something about wanting to eat.
Rose felt sick and she didn't even know why. At lunch she barely managed to eat, her whole throat felt constricted with anxiety.
Petunia made an effort to ask her husband about the book, like she had told her niece she would, but Vernon had shut that down. "Give her something about sewing or something. Girls don't get engineering anyway."
No objections were made, but Petunia's lips seemed even thinner than before.
Dudley wanted to take his cousin to play with his friends, but Petunia said she needed to rest. And Rose was glad to hide away in her room with a book.
In time, maybe things would be better, she told herself. Maybe…
That night, when the others slept and she felt save, she took the pocket watch from its hiding space.
The coat of arms on the watch cover was the same as on the ring around her neck. Had she - had her family a coat of arms? She had not seen anything like it in the Dursley's house, so… her paternal family.
There was an engraving on the inside, barely readable, but she didn't dare to switch on the bigger light at the ceiling. That whole electricity-in-the-walls-thing still freaked her out, but Petunia had forbidden her to light a candle in her room.
The ancient and most noble house of Potter
Lady Henrietta Minette Potter
Lord Hardwin Charlus Potter II.
Lord Fleamont Henry Potter
Lord James Fleamont Potter
Lady Roslyn James Acacia Potter
~ Aut inveniam viam aut faciam ~
"My family," she whispered breathlessly. She had a life - a family before she woke up in this strange house!
It wasn't enough to drive away her fears, or the loneliness. But it was so much more than nothing.
"Aut inveniam viam aut faciam" she read and to her surprise, she knew what the Latin said, "I shall either find a way or make one".
She yawned, tiered out from the day, even though too many of her questions were left unanswered. But tomorrow was Monday, with any luck Vernon would be at work and Dudley at school. Maybe then she could question Petunia…
Rose hid her watch and then crawled back under the covers. She fell asleep as her head hid the pillow.
o ~ O ~ o
2.13 a.m.
9th May 1988
Home of the Dursley family
Location indiscernible, presumably somewhere in Great Britain
It was the sharp pain that woke her, not the screams.
Disoriented she tried to hide under the covers, but a hand brutally grabbed her upper arm, pulling her upwards.
"Wake us another time and I will give you a reason to cry - DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
Rose nodded, barely knowing what Vernon screamed in her face. Little stars danced in her vision.
"Good," he let go off her and went for the door without giving her another look.
"Vernon, what happened?!"
"Don't worry, Tuny. I took care of it." He slammed the door shut and Rose was left in darkness.
Her face was wet from tears and her left cheek had turned numb. Vernon had slapped her so hard she tasted blood.
The nightmare slipped through her fingers like the night before, but the tears still flowed. In one hand she held her ring, wishing someone would embrace her as she lay all alone in the darkness.
o ~ O ~ o
Afternoon
9th May 1988
White Willow Shopping Mall
Little Whinging, Surrey, England
"These jeans are very popular with the children right now and you can pair it with almost everything! Especially bold colours or patterns like this one. If I may -"
Rose mentally turned off the chatter of the overexcited saleswoman.
Petunia had taken her to the mall, stating she could not run around in 'old boy-clothes'. After the night she had, Rose didn't have any energy left to protest even if she had wanted to.
If Petunia wanted to burn a fortune for hideous clothing that was her decision. Rose was more interested in the question why she felt as if she had never worn jeans before?
And that 'her aunt' didn't want to answer any of her questions.
The only new information Rose had was that her mother's name was Lily - and that she and Petunia had not talked for almost ten years. Which explained a lot and nothing.
She hoped Petunia would be more in a sharing mood after she had let her play dress-up with her.
And it felt like hours, but at last, her aunt was happy with her choices for Rose.
"Now she can dress properly," she said happily.
"Thank you, Petunia. - I really liked what you picked." She didn't feel bad about the lie. Some not quite-there voice inside her, told her lies had their justifiability. Like getting on the good side of people you depended on but couldn't trust.
"You will look so nice! I am sure you will soon find friends. Mrs. Willow in no. 16 has a girl your age, I am sure you will get along."
"That… sounds great!" Rose was sure she would more likely be bullied for looking like a clown. Then again, everyone in the mall dressed ridiculously. She just couldn't remember what 'usual' was supposed to look like.
The smallish mall was a twenty-minutes' walk from the Dursley's house, but Petunia ordered a taxi for both ways, not wanting anyone see Rose in Dudley's old clothes.
At home, she removed all the labels and put a wash on.
"Petunia?"
"Yes?"
Her aunt was already flicking through her newest tabloid, she really looked forward to the 'Gone with the wind' sequel.
"When did my parents die?"
"Two years -" Petunia snapped her mouth shut, but it was too late.
"What?" Rose starred at her, "Two years? - But I thought I lost my memory because of some kind of shock after their death?"
Her aunt didn't answer, just stared down at the magazine page.
"Where was I these past years when no one else supposedly wanted me? And why can't I remember any of it?"
"I don't know," Petunia got up to make tea.
"What are you not telling me?"
"Stop asking questions!" she hissed at the girl. Rose flinched back, expecting a strike.
She was scared, yes, but Petunia also saw defiance in her creepy eyes.
"Go to your room until dinner," she told her sternly, "I want you to think about your attitude."
Rose obeyed without a word.
At dinner, Vernon loudly disapproved of Petunia spending money - his hard-earned money! - on some random orphan. As if Rose didn't sit with them at the table.
In the end he was swayed by his wife's arguments, mainly "What would the neighbours think?".
"You better be grateful for all the things your aunt does for you, girl!"
"Yes." she replied without looking up.
That night, she didn't want to fall asleep. She was scared of another nightmare - and even more of Vernon's reaction.
So, she sat, her back against the headboard and read. Another crime novel.
But just when the body of Louise Leidner's body was discovered, Rose' hand sank to the side and she fell in a troubled slumber.
o ~ O ~ o
1.07 a.m.
10th May 1988
Home of the Dursley family
Location indiscernible, presumably somewhere in Great Britain
Rose shifted in her sleep, first signs of distress showing on her face.
"James?" her mom asked and that made her look up.
Her dad smiled at them. "I love you, Lily Potter, and you, my little princess."
"I love you, da -"
A strong wave of magic rolled over their home.
"Take Rose and run!" James had his wand ready and sprinted towards the entrance hall.
That's quite enough.
"I love you, dad!"
He picked her up, holding her close. She was safe and happy.
Just for now, little mage. Until you are yourself again.
Don't get used to it.
Rose relaxed. She turned in the bed and signed lowly, a smile on her face.
o ~ O ~ o
Afternoon
13th May 1988
Home of the Dursley family
Location indiscernible, presumably somewhere in Great Britain
Petunia was hesitant to let anyone do anything in her garden, but somehow her niece had quite the knack for working with plants. The flowers were throwing out blossoms as if they were going out of fashion. And Rose seemed the most content outside…
"Rose!"
The girl looked up at her immediately, nodding to show that she listened.
"… Don't stay out too long. I don't want you to get sick!"
"Yes, Petunia."
The child withdrew more with each day and Petunia knew it was her and Vernon's fault. She tried telling herself that the girl had to adjust to them, not the other way around, but…
'No,' she thought, 'This whole mess is not my fault! Rose needs to get used to her new life.'
Meanwhile Rose was clipping flowers, it was strange, how she just knew a lot of things...
The garden was the only place she felt remotely comfortable. The plants didn't scream at her. Or ignored her questions.
"Rose, I am going to the shop," Petunia was already in her coat, telling her was apparently an afterthought, "Do you need anything?"
"Strawberries would be nice."
"Alright. - Be careful with the secateurs!"
Rose didn't reply, she knew it was not expected, even before the patio door slammed shut.
"Whatever," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. Was there another headache coming?
"James…"
Rose spun around - the sudden address had startled her. Someone stood a few feet from her, a boy with dark hair and tiered, brown eyes.
"Finally made it," the boy murmured, swaying on his feet.
She knew that face like the back of her hand, "Tom?"
He grinned, as if he was about to burst with happiness and relive, "Hello, dearest."
Then his legs gave out.
"TOM!"
A/N
Warnings:
Child abuse
Kidnapping
Manipulation
Violence