AN: Sorry for the somewhat late update, right now, I'm under a time crunch from real-life duties, sooo... Besides, this chapter was larger than I was expecting.
Alright, a few things before I kick this off.
Voldemort is much more powerful and cunning here, so you won't get three first years solving anything. Besides, Dumbledore is good as well, so he doesn't announce the third floor as forbidden, and he doesn't keep the Philosopher's Stone either. But having said that, Voldemort is much more skilled here, so he doesn't realise that he is possessing Quirrel, either.
Now, having said that, and now that I'm writing it myself, it's like, JK Rowling intentionally makes this stuff so that the HP books seem like it was made for kids. I don't honestly see why it is so famous, or perhaps I do... it's because HP leaves so much to be desired, so many opportunities for change that it becomes the ideal for fanfiction, a mixture of a good idea and bad writing.
Now, I'm not badmouthing JK Rowling, well, yes, I am, but I cannot do so in good conscience.
Anyway, where was I? Right.
But it won't be the first year without the Philosopher's Stone, you say. Alright, read on.
Time: Rose's First Year, Violet's Fourth
The first sign of trouble came on a pleasant morning in mid-September, with Albus Dumbledore rushing out of the Great Hall in the middle of breakfast after receiving a mysterious letter.
That had been three days ago.
And now, all the students of Hogwarts were called to the Great Hall in the middle of classes, for a special class, to be held by the Headmaster himself.
Rose had watched the Headmaster stumble into the Great Hall that morning after two days of complete absence and no news, his feet carrying his body with great difficulty to his chair, as if all of his years had finally caught up with him. Dumbledore had never looked so old, nor so tired, as when he finally returned to Hogwarts. She could almost see his legs tremble under the meagre weight of his thin body, as he stood up to announce the extra class.
And why was he so... shaken?
The answer to that particular question came a few minutes later, in the form of the daily owls carrying the newspapers in the middle of breakfast, to shock not only the population of Hogwarts, but of the entire magical world, borne by the front page of every major and minor newspaper all over the world, all carrying the same, identical headline in their respective tongues-
'Famous Flamel couple missing- the Stalker strikes again?!'
Making Rose's heart tremble in fear as she remembered her face to face encounter with the enigmatic serial killer that avoided capture like nobody's business. People didn't even know his identity, nor how he managed to sneak around without being caught, or how he actually hunted, despite all the innumerable murders he had committed, the enormous bounty on his head, and the continent-wide manhunt to take down the Stalker. It was as if everything was no more than a game to him, sneaking wherever he wanted with little regard for those hunting him every waking moment.
But back to the present problem.
The Flamels were world-renowned, having lived for over six centuries thanks to the powers of the almost mythical Philosopher's Stone, that the alchemical couple had succeeded in creating. Despite their overwhelming fame, they preferred to remain at the edges of human society, out of the public eye and mind, shunning human interaction and merely content to live with each other, thus making them prime targets for the Stalker's hunting methods.
Nobody had suspected that the magical couple who had become a staple for magicals all over the world for centuries would suddenly... not be there, sending another shockwave running through the magical populace. Reminding them that the Stalker was omnipresent, that nobody remained out of his reach, as if the death of Gellert Grindelwald had not already cemented that sentiment in the trembling hearts of the Wizarding World. It was just that... the Flamels were ancient, and they had taught Albus Dumbledore... for the Stalker to attack such a powerful couple alone, and come out not only unscathed, but victorious, was nigh unprecedented.
Whispers and rumours of his strength were already taking root in the notorious Hogwarts rumour mill, some even claiming that he was going to be the next Dark Lord. Although said people had the intelligence to hide their identities, seeing as the Stalker did not have a reputation for being merciful.
Was he after the Philosopher's Stone?
Nobody knew, much less the Girl Who Lived.
The last time the Flamels had taken an apprentice was Dumbledore himself, and as far as anyone knew, he was the only apprentice they had ever taken, only adding to the image of their magical prowess. The only student they had ever taken became the greatest wizard of the present age.
And now, they were no longer there. Stolen away by a serial killer that had flirted shamelessly with Rose not so long ago.
And she was ashamed to say, that despite the cold shower given by the Daily Prophet, the Stalker's handsome, dark looks had haunted her dreams for a long time, making her wake up sweaty every other night.
For all the wrong reasons. Not out of fear, but attraction.
No, Rose was still in denial that she had a crippling crush on a serial killer that had no qualms about killing hundreds of innocents.
She remembered the looks exchanged between the tightly knit group of friends upon reading the Daily Prophet that morning. The dark, pale looks shared between Violet, Lyra, Daphne, Astoria and herself.
Funnily enough, even the bitchy Celeste Malfoy, cold and sweaty, had sidled up to Daphne nervously, mirroring their own reactions at reading about the Stalker.
But she guessed, they all shared the same fascination for the Stalker, an effect of some magic he had cast on them or his natural charisma, they had no idea. It was the sort of morbid fascination humans had with death, fluttering to the dreamlike state every time they went off to sleep, and waking up craving it all the more. Death, that was all around them, that they studied and tried to understand, like a lover whose touch they feared.
And the Stalker was, for all intents and purposes, death given physical form, his dark, alluring looks and charming smile drawing the girls like moths to a flame. A sordid fascination, mesmerizing like the spread hood of a cobra or the distinct rattling of a rattlesnake, that captured, no, demanded, their attention, till they could not breathe properly lest their hearts should burst. Till they wanted him to gaze longingly at them again, for whatever reason, to feel his power washing over them, for some reason not malevolent but protective, possessive like they were but a toy to him. For his own amusement.
Rose wondered if the unexplainable obsession she, and if her guess was any good, the others as well, felt, was the beginning of the unfaltering loyalty of the Inner Circle of a future Dark Lord.
Tracey, Susan and the three Gryffindor chasers had looked back and forth at their mysterious reactions, and strange behaviour, the sudden changes plaguing their close friends after the summer break. Was it the fear of the Stalker being around? Yes, they had to admit the idea was indeed terrifying that he was on the same land as them, and knew their location very well, but it did not explain this irrational paranoia, as if he was following them, as if they did everything looking over their shoulder for his approval.
Something was obviously being hidden here, making the five look annoyed at being left out of the loop, even more so at the realisation that Celeste Malfoy of all people knew something they didn't. That their sworn bully was so shaken that she no longer tried to make herself visible and prominent, merely content with letting her incompetent little brother take her place as she tried to keep the spotlight off of herself. Was it something the Malfoys had preplanned for the comfort of their heir, or was the same thing plaguing the Girl Who Lived and her close friends also affecting the Malfoy daughter?
Well, if anything, the only thing anybody regretted about Celeste's sudden change of behaviour was that the terrifying, sinister and scheming Malfoy daughter was replaced by her incompetent brother and his two brainless goons, who always relied on his father's political and financial clout and Snape's reluctant protection to assert dominance, with no backbone, nor anything to boast of his own.
When asked about the sudden changes by an irate Tracey, Daphne had only managed to reply in a weak voice, "Trust me, you do not want to know."
Hearing the shaken, trembling voice of the normally stoic, emotionless Greengrass Heiress must have been enough to dissuade them from broaching the topic ever again.
"Hey, Rose, you good?" The Girl Who Lived's closest friend, well, at least of her own age, shook her out of her thoughts, making her jerk and stifle a gasp as she stared beside her, at the inquisitive looks the other girl sent her way, panting slightly at the fright she was given.
"Oh, ye-yeah. Just thinking." Rose smiled weakly at Astoria, adjusting her glasses nervously, watching as her friend's lips turned downwards in a frown.
"Yeah. We have all been thinking about the same thing since morning. I know." She grumbled, before turning to glare mutely at the table, making her giggle at her antics.
Rose sighed at her friend, involuntarily leaning closer to her, searching for her warmth and comfort, their hips touching as she smoothed her own Ravenclaw robes, running her fingers along the soft blue fabric without paying it much attention, lost in thought as her eyes wandered across the Great Hall, seeking out her elder sister, where she was sitting at the Gryffindor table with her three friends, all gorgeous, all clad in the red and gold robes of the House of Lions.
They were laughing at something Percy Weasley had said or done, making Rose crack a grin of her own as she imagined the humiliation the stuck up Weasley was dished out, torn between feeling sorry for him and gleeful at his treatment. Percy wasn't that bad, it was just that he had a foot lodged deep inside his ass, so deep, in fact, that Gred and Forge (as they had insisted she call them) joked that they could sometimes see the sole of his shoe whenever he spoke.
Ignoring whatever the prefect had done, she stared hard at her sister, too shy to call for her attention or make any gesture in the loud, crowded hall bustling with chatter and filled to the brim with rowdy wizards and witches, mentally willing her sister to look at her.
Astoria joined her in her endeavour, shaking with quiet laughter as she stared hard at the eldest Potter daughter, imitating whatever Rose was trying to do and making the Girl who Lived blush shyly and adjust her glasses in embarrassment.
Finally catching her eye, Violet gave Rose a little nod of comfort, smiling shakily at her as she discerned the meaning behind her gaze, shooting a small smile towards Astoria, too, while she was at it. She would have to have the same intelligence as the younger Malfoy's two goons not to understand what was going through their heads, for it was the same thing that had been racing through her own psyche since the morning, faster than the Hogwarts express.
Lily watched the little exchange between her two daughters with keen emerald eyes from the Professors' table, feeling a hurtful twinge in her heart at their callous disregard for their mother's presence in the Great Hall. She knew what they were thinking about, and couldn't help but feel slightly hurt at not being turned to for comfort, though she guessed, it was something the closely-knit group of friends wanted to keep to themselves, and she respected that. Didn't mean it hurt any less, though.
After the Stalker debacle at one of the numerous summer parties they had been forced to attend, they had opened up about their encounter with the serial killer in the dark of night, locked in the spacious Potter living room. After that, for more safety when they were not at Hogwarts, Sirius, Remus and Lyra had moved into three of the several empty bedrooms lying around unused in the extravagant Potter manor.
Lily laughed quietly to herself as she remembered the relieved sigh Sirius breathed at finally escaping Twelve Grimmauld Place. The rest of the summer did not see a dull moment. Despite the threat looming over them, the two families, which were functionally one, had a lot of fun, with even Dumbledore pitching in sometimes.
Now, to look after Lyra, Rose and Violet better, Dumbledore had invited Lily to take over the vacant seat of the Muggle Studies Professor, also so that she wouldn't feel so lonely stuck spell crafting and potion making at the completely empty mansion after the three men went out to do whatever it was they did.
James, Remus and Sirius lived together at Potter manor over the year as a result, three Marauders given free rein to have prank wars and destroy the manor as long as Lily found it just as she had left at the end of the school year.
Her eyes gleamed with maternal love as she looked over proudly at her two, no, three, daughters, sitting at three different tables in the Great Hall. Nobody could take them away from her, not after she had had to deal with losing her Harry as well.
She wondered what her Harry was doing. He was probably in the Muggle world, attending high school.
At that moment, a dashing figure with an eyepatch over his right eye, clad in all black, sneezed hard, not too far from Lily.
"Oh my, let me get you all dried up." Madam Rosmerta fussed over the dark, mysterious stranger whose smile could make her feel like a weak-kneed schoolgirl. The nameless stranger was looking down at his drenched outfit, then back at his half-empty mug of firewhiskey with half-lidded eyes, before he took out a little blue plastic inhaler from somewhere, and took a puff.
The little Muggle device or the health problems he was suffering from, were promptly ignored by the blonde witch, who was more busy ogling the well-defined muscles visible through the drenched black shirt he was wearing.
Ignoring the undeniable fact that she was a witch, or that she was at least twenty years older than him, the hot barmaid of The Three Broomsticks disappeared behind the back door, allegedly in search of a cloth to clean him up with, but not before giving him a seductive wiggle of her hips.
Smirking as he looked around at the deserted bar, the figure followed her.
Back at the Ravenclaw table, the Girl Who Lived could hear Tracey's boisterous laughter from behind her at the Slytherin table, making her smile slightly as she glanced over her shoulder. The boisterous Slytherin was wiping tears from her eyes as Daphne tried to conceal the smile threatening to break out on her lips, while Lyra smiled lazily, the three sixteen-year-olds looking quite out of place at the stoic Slytherin table. Over at the Hufflepuff table, Susan giggled quietly at their antics, whispering quietly to her Hufflepuff friends.
Rose felt a smile tug at her lips. Despite everything, despite the danger of a serial killer looming over their heads, right then, life was good.
She glanced towards Astoria, who was staring back at her, smiling lazily as she rested her cheek on her arm, staring up at her from the table, her blue eyes shining.
Rose smiled back at her, admiring how the Ravenclaw robes hugged the younger Greengrass daughter, trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy that tugged at her heart.
"What do you think the Headmaster will be teaching us today?" Astoria asked, breaking the comfortable silence as she closed her eyes, trying to go off to sleep with her head resting in her arms on the table, despite the noise of innumerable chattering students around her.
"Well, I have no idea... but taking into consideration the recent attack on the Flamels, it might be something related to self-defence or how to avoid the Stalker." She glanced towards the doors of the Great Hall, anticipating the arrival of the Headmaster and the lesson he was going to impart. Her heart beat quicker at the thought of learning something more about the Stalker, or even about magic in general, her typical Ravenclaw curiosity shining through, clearly visible in her gleaming emerald eyes.
Deciding to do something productive while she waited for Albus Dumbledore, Rose brought her schoolbag to her lap, adjusting her cute round glasses as she took out her Transfigurations book to go through the lesson McGonagall would be covering today, just to be prepared. It was best not to waste any time to get better, after all, the world around them was a darker place.
Beside her, Astoria scoffed good-naturedly as she looked at her bookworm of a friend, before turning her head away to doze, trying to get comfortable in her arms on the table as Rose's quiet voice muttering to herself about transfigurations served as a perfect lullaby to coax her off to dreamland.
"Astoria, wake up!" She was shaken awake impatiently by her friend after what seemed like a few seconds, making her grumble as she blinked her bleary eyes to get rid of the sleepiness, before jerking upright abruptly.
"Ouch, damn woman! I'm awake, I'm awake, geez." She winced, rubbing her arm as she tried to glare at Rose.
The Girl Who Lived only smiled innocently at her, shrugging as she slipped her wand back into her holster, as if she hadn't just shot her with a stinging hex.
Grumbling beneath her breath, Astoria looked back towards the Head Table, where all the Professors were also sitting. Dumbledore stood in front of the table, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared hard at the floor, lost in thought. His long white beard and hair contrasted against the black robes he wore in mourning of his late mentors.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, glancing upwards, and all the chatter in the hall died away.
"As I'm sure all of us know," he began, his voice heavy and grave with none of the usual mirth nor softness, "England has just become a darker country. Caught in the claws of a criminal, who is as fearless as he is skilled and strong. And now, two of the greatest witches and wizards to ever grace history, have fallen prey to him."
As he continued his speech, everyone listened with rapt attention, their gazes locked onto the elderly Headmaster, their minds latched onto every word. Absolute silence reigned over the Great Hall for probably the first time in decades, and Rose's heart beat faster with every word.
Despite everything, she could see that Dumbledore was being cautious, if not outright afraid of the Stalker. Exercising all the little superstitions employed while talking about him. How he avoided speaking the Stalker's name, or outright insulting him.
The fiery speech ended a few minutes later, with the old Headmaster going off into a coughing fit, his age finally catching up with him. Several students looked on in shock, apparently, their image of Dumbledore as the infallible, unfaltering omnipotent wizard being shattered callously as his age slapped them across the faces.
Turning to the table, he grabbed a goblet of water, downing it in one gulp before turning back to face the Hogwarts population, as if nothing was wrong.
"We have lots of things to discuss, but that can come later. Let's start off with something lighthearted to get in the mood before we go on to deeper topics, alright?" He smiled at them, the usual twinkle in his blue eyes back, and almost like a curse had been lifted from the Great Hall, light flooded in, chasing away the darkness, metaphorically of course. The mood lifted immediately, making most of the students breathe a sigh of relief as they were released from the oppressive, grave atmosphere of death, terror and despair, almost like a weight was taken off their bodies.
"In their will, the Flamels left me everything as the person closest to them. And among everything, I found, of course, this." There was a single, unified gasp from all the people gathered there, both students and teachers, as Dumbledore retrieved something from his pocket, holding it aloft in the light.
"It's the bloody Philosopher's Stone!" Fred and George shouted together, their faces betraying the excitement everyone felt as they jumped onto their seats to get a better look at the stone. "Bloody awesome, mate!"
Several students followed their example, standing on their seats and some even on the table, to get a better look at the fabled Stone. Dumbledore rotated it in his hand, making it catch all the light in different angles and reflect all shades of white, amber, scarlet, crimson and red like a kaleidoscope.
More gasps rang out in the Great Hall at the beauty of the Philosopher's Stone, at all the bright shades of light dancing on the walls and on the floor, on the students' clothes and on their tables.
"Mr. and Mr. Weasley, as much as I appreciate you downplaying my great age to consider me your mate, I'm going to have to ask you to sit back down. I'll go over to everybody and allow you to hold the Stone individually." Dumbledore smiled at them, his face painted golden by the light from the Stone.
Cheers, whistles and wild whooping broke out from the student population, making Dumbledore laugh gaily, as if all his worries were washed away by the merriment of his students.
Several Professors involuntarily leaned closer to the Headmaster, unable to contain their own childlike wonder. Some like Flitwick, McGonagall and Babbling were intrigued by the Stone's wondrous properties, while others like Sinistra, Vector and Lily were openly gawking at the magical artefact. Quirrel joined them in their gawking after a brief moment of several emotions fleeting across his face, while Severus Snape was probably the only person, in the history of magic, to not show any visible reaction at first seeing the Philosopher's Stone.
Dumbledore only laughed at their reactions.
The afternoon was one of the happiest in Hogwarts, as the students learned about the various properties of the Philosopher's Stone, how it turned things into gold and how it produced the mysterious Elixir of Life and what it did. The happiness was only interrupted by a thirty-minute lecture on the Stalker and how best to avoid getting his attention, though the depression quickly fled their systems as Dumbledore gave the rest of the day free.
And, unknown to anybody, that evening, Dumbledore was in his office, sighing wistfully as he looked at the destroyed remains of his mentor's greatest work, before turning to his wand, still smoking from the powerful spell.
"Both of you are more trouble than you are worth, you know?" He spoke, feeling the Elder wand thrum in his hands. "Yes, unfortunately, you bear a curse that prevents me from ever getting rid of you without death, now is there?"
He sighed again, tossing the cursed wand away before turning to pet Fawkes. Remind him again why he had even got caught up in this mess in the first place?
Hmm, he stroked Fawkes's beautiful scarlet plumage, lost in thought.
"Tell me, old friend. How would you like a new sweater? I've heard Muggles sell them custom made, it would look cute on you."
The phoenix squawked in indignation.
The next fucked up day was a month later, on the gloomy last day of October.
Halloween. Like duh.
First Rose loses her brother, gets almost killed, and becomes famous overnight for something no one knows. And now, she would die. Halloween was really a fucked up day.
Rose regretted ever ditching the Hogwarts feast, making a mental note to never forego the Hogwarts feast ever again, or anger whatever gods ruled over the student populace and had divined these rules, that is, if she even survived today's ordeal.
At least, that was what was racing through her head a thousand miles a minute, making her knees knock together, and making her feel thankful for her empty bladder. Don't judge her, she was a Ravenclaw, not a brave, borderline suicidal Gryffindor like her sister to rush into a fight with a troll with the most basic knowledge about magic.
No, that just didn't do. The troll wasn't an XXXX beast for nothing. Even fully trained, skilled wizards had trouble managing even a single one, she could safely abandon all hope of getting through this with first-year spells and a few upper-year spells.
Her throat dried as she stared at the lumbering figure staring down at her dumbly, with little recognition beyond the animalistic instinct shining beneath dumb, rheumy yellowish eyes, that looked jaundice stricken.
Grey skin glistened in the light that illuminated the first-floor girls' toilet, slimy and as disgusting as the rest of the creature. Crooked, yellow teeth felt like a worse version of Marcus Flint's obnoxious grin, sticking out at all angles, worn and scarred through years of rending raw flesh from the bones of its prey.
Its tummy resembled a typical pot belly that she so often saw in the elderly politicians who attended the balls she was forced to attend as well, just instead of the saggy fat, it was almost perfectly spherical, a combination of overwhelming fat and muscle that threatened to crush her entire body to fine paste through the virtue of its weight alone, but no less disgusting.
Its little bald head was almost comically undersized for its bulky, looming body, that cast an equally massive shadow across the floor, its neck almost invisible and rippling under layers of fat and muscle, making it look like an even gross version of the younger Malfoy's two equally dumb goons.
Well, now there was a surprise. Rose had never thought that anything could be grosser than Crabbe and Goyle, though there were several other people in the running for third place.
It only made her long all the more for the Stalker's smooth, charming dark looks that could seduce any girl with a little smile and a glance, made her feel weak kneed... like most of the other girls her age. Ugh.
Shit! Concentrate!
Rose was brought back to reality as the troll raised its arm, as thick as a tree trunk, to scratch its head dumbly for a moment. Its club, almost as large as Hagrid's torso, looked wicked, with twigs and stuff sticking out, guaranteed to give the mother of all paper cuts. Probably enough to cleave her body in half.
She examined the troll, looking for any weak points she could exploit. She could not power through this like a Gryffindor, no, she had to think like a Ravenclaw-Slytherin... Slytherclaw?
Ugh, it was not the time for this.
The only thing the troll wore was a loincloth made of bark, which probably had been taken from an entire tree, making Rose feel thankful for whichever genius had come up with the idea of making loincloths for trolls and using permanent sticking charms.
If it hadn't been for that, she would probably have to wave a reluctant goodbye to her sleep, forever. Unless she got obliviated, of course.
She didn't even want to go anywhere near it, let alone fight it. No, that was a suicide wish, and her stomach was feeling queasy enough as it is. She had already had a round of dry heaving and retching, she did not want another one.
A weak groan sounded from behind her, making the Girl Who Lived turn around just in time to see Astoria faint in Susan's arms, all the colours of their hair and clothes mixing together in a mass of gold, blue, scarlet and black, till only Susan's hair stood out, like the colour of blood. Like the colour of the Stalker's right eye.
Whether Astoria had fainted from the fear of the mindless beast or the stench, like a public toilet that had not been cleaned for months, that the troll gave off, she had no idea.
Remind her again why they had insisted on coming with her to the bathroom? Was this some kind of girl thing she was too boyish to understand?
And before that, why was there even a troll loose in Hogwarts in the first place?
Rose struggled to get her wand out, holding it aloft, pointed straight towards the troll, a curse ready on her lips.
'Do not do a Quirrel, do not do a Quirrel, do not do a Quirrel', she chanted mentally, willing herself not to stutter on the spell and end up with a few limbs missing.
The troll seemed to register the sight of the wand, roaring angrily. Well, fuck her sideways.
It raised its club, smashing the ceiling to bits, and seemingly unfazed at the casual display of strength, or the debris raining down on its head, big chunks of stone and dust and other shit.
Rose suddenly felt lightheaded, watching the casual display of raw strength the troll showed, smashing the magic reinforced walls of Hogwarts with a simple swing of its club. No, she had no chance of survival.
"Stupefy." She didn't know what a single stunning charm could do. That, too, a stunning charm as weak as hers. She wished her sister was here to see her fight. She would have been proud.
The red light hit the troll, fizzing off into its grey skin without any visible effect, making her smile weakly in self-depreciation. She could register Susan's hysterical screaming behind her, through the ringing of her ears.
Was this what death felt like?
She stared up at the troll, ignoring the dust and debris that showered down around her, standing protectively before her two friends.
Was this how her two older siblings had felt, trying to protect her from Voldemort?
Was this... how Harry had felt?
Suffocating, like she could not breathe. There was a great burden on her chest, hampering her ability to draw breath, to execute one of the vital processes of life ingrained in every infant's mind since a few seconds after birth. Her ears rang, her vision tunnelling until she could not see anything save the twisted, gnarled club, the same shade as the oak tree beside the Great Lake. She smiled, remembering all the happy times she had spent there with the others.
Her holly and phoenix feather wand extended straight forward, ready to meet death facefirst, to go down wand in hand, fighting in the face of defeat. (Lol, I just took that from Coat of Arms by Sabaton, which is blasting in my ears right now.)
She wished that Harry was here.
And the club raced towards her.
After that, for a moment, everything was chaos.
All that Rose remembered was a familiar rustling of clothes and a black blur, like a thousand ravens descended from the heavens to feast on the remains of a bloody battlefield.
The strong wind on her face and messy hair, as if she was flying again, untouchable, in the comforting freedom of the open, azure sky floating lazily along with Violet and her Gryffindor friends, while Daphne and Astoria lounged in the stands, and Susan and Tracey were giggling about something.
The next thing that hit her was the comfort. She felt strong arms clutching her tightly to a well-toned, lean and warm body that made her tingle in strange ways, that made her heart beat faster and blood creep up her neck.
Safety. Like she was a little Ravenclaw chick on her first flight, while Daddy eagle stood guard, ready to swoop in if anything went awry. Like she was a lion cub playing with a little rabbit her Daddy had brought home alive so that she would learn to hunt, while the powerful, majestic lion stood guard over his precious.
But no, that signified that there was a parental protection. No, it was anything but, something she did not have any words for, something which she could barely begin to describe. All-consuming emotion, like she was the only thing in the world. Protection and love tinged with desire and lust, which made it all the more intoxicating and addictive.
And then, reality rushed to her, like how the sea floods around a sinking ship.
The stone corridors of Hogwarts. A blur of mysterious black and a blur of troll grey. A sweet, addictive scent mixed with the disgusting stench of the troll.
Rose realised where she was. In someone's arms.
She writhed around to look at her saviour. Had he moved so fast, or was it just that she had zoned out?
No, he had moved that fast. She could see the troll still hunkered over the club, puzzled to not see the red splat it expected.
Rose's heart raced as her saviour did not even indicate any discomfort at her wriggling around in his arms. And she was not the only one he was carrying, either.
For, in his other arm, he carried Susan and Astoria, the blonde Ravenclaw still out of it, while the loyal Hufflepuff refused to relent on her bone-crushing grip on the former, no pun intended.
A brief moment of confusion muddled her mind as Rose caught Susan's pale, terrified face, as if she had seen the devil himself. Her pupils dilated until her grey irises were almost invisible, her normally rosy skin pale as paper, glistening with slight beads of sweat.
Ah, that's why.
The confusion cleared as Rose's admittedly good mind caught up with the rapid pace of events, making her have a similar reaction as the Bones heiress.
Sheer terror flooded her systems, something which she had only felt once before, now, twice. And both times, it was caused by the same person.
Rose couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Her chest felt like it was getting crushed.
Black trenchcoat that reached till his knees. A simple black mask with only one eyehole, white fangs and stripes like a tiger. A single eye, with black sclera and a gleaming red iris, the same shade as the Cruciatus curse.
His lips were parted, sweet-smelling smoke curling up from his lips like a fiery demon, a missile ready to go off.
The Stalker was here, and he had protected the three first years from the troll.
A moment later, she was jerked out of her thoughts as a crash reached her, the toilet floor giving way under the blow of the troll's club, before crashing to the floor beneath.
Despite her own situation, Rose found herself hoping that nobody had been caught in the collapse.
The troll roared in anger, the sound enough to make a weak house shake as if caught in an earthquake, whirling around towards them as it caught their scent, dragging its club along, smashing stalls and walls as it approached them without a second thought, its gait slow and lumbering.
Her heart beat quicker in response, her eyes locked onto the approaching form of the troll.
She struggled harder in the Stalker's arms, but he did not budge an inch.
"What are you doing?! Are you going to kill all of u-"
Rose takes her previous statement back. She was indeed Gryffindor suicidal. Fuck, she had just shouted at the Stalker, probably some sort of new record.
Her mouth snapped shut in mortification, wishing she could dig herself a hole and die as the Stalker's head lolled in the lazy way he had, so that he could fix his eye on her, the red and black swimming with amusement and unidentifiable emotion.
No words were spoken. If he had, then Rose would have had a heart attack then and there.
The cold wind prickled her sweaty skin. The smell of the troll waged war on her senses, her vision getting blurry as she faintly recognised tears making their way down her cheeks, messing up her spectacles.
And suddenly, he dropped the three of them to the floor unceremoniously, making them stifle yelps as they crashed to the cold stone floor.
"Wh-wh-" The impact seemed to shake Astoria out of her sweet, blissful unconsciousness, a moment of disorientation as she tried to judge where she was, before immediately her ability of speech fled her being as her blue eyes locked onto the Stalker's black-clad form.
The serial killer, for his part, ignored the three thirteen-year-olds, his gaze locked onto the approaching form of the troll.
"Third... floor..." He managed to wheeze out without looking at them, his voice as gravelly and exhausted as the younger Greengrass daughter remembered, the few words still as hard fought for. His breaths still clearly audible, hinting at some sort of lung disease that plagued his body.
Immediately the three of them scrambled up, Susan seemingly shaken out of her stupor at the movement of her two friends, before they scrambled backwards, trying to get on their feet and to the third floor as he had ordered. Their bodies moved on autopilot, their minds too overloaded at the sense of danger, their feet moving by themselves as their eyes locked on to the form of the Stalker, who intently watched their departure with a single keen eye, ignorant of the troll approaching him at a leisurely pace.
"Rose-" The Hogwarts Muggle Studies Professor's frantic voice was cut off as the three friends crashed into her, making Lily stumble backwards and almost fall had she not been caught by Susan.
She smiled, relieved at finding the three safe and sound, though it quickly turned to a frown at the looks on their faces.
"Where were yo-" Her voice immediately trailed off, making her want to mentally kick herself at her lack of awareness, as she pushed herself in front of the three first years in a protective stance, her wand immediately sliding to her hand as she raised it shakily at the black figure.
"Stalker." She greeted coldly, trying to keep the shaking of her hand to a minimum as the ferocious Lily Potter who had fought at the front lines against Voldemort surfaced again, as she stared down at the surprisingly young-looking serial killer who had threatened all three of their daughters.
Her wand glowed maliciously.
The Stalker just stared at her quietly in response, not feeling like wasting his words on her, ignoring the fact that the corridor brimming with tense silence, ready to be broken at a moment's notice with the curse that was on the tip of Lily's tongue.
He cocked his head to the side in a gesture much familiar to Rose and Astoria, a gesture which had plagued their dreams for several months now, his raven hair shadowing his face slightly. His single eye wandered over Lily's delectable body, making her stomach twist in an unfamiliar reaction, his gaze similar to the wandering eyes of the hormonal schoolboys she had to teach, yet different. Full of promise that made her heart stumble over its beats, making her feel like she was a schoolgirl again.
Lily was used to people staring at her. Both because of her status as the mother of the Girl Who Lived, and because of her curvy, gifted body which she kept well in shape. However, her heart was already given to a person and she intended on staying loyal, unwavering in the sea of lust that plagued her right now, making her feel hot and bothered at the alluring, dark gaze of the Stalker. No, that was mental. She had stayed loyal for so long, she could not be possibly feeling anything else at the lazy gaze of a serial killer who looked at her like she was nothing more than a fun toy.
Her wand wavered, the glowing tip flickering slightly.
Trying to suppress the strange, unwelcome reaction her body was having to his piercing, predatory gaze, she glared at him hatefully, her emerald eyes shining with maternal protectiveness that triumphed over everything else as her full, ruby lips curled into a snarl, her fiery red hair imposing, like a fiery demon locked in a staring contest with another equally terrifying demon.
No matter the fact that it felt like an angry chihuahua taking on a big bad wolf who could not be bothered to deem her as worthy of getting his attention. Lily had a lot of fight in her.
The staring contest was broken by the Stalker, not due to a lack of ability as much as a lack of interest, as he turned back to face the approaching troll quietly.
The troll raised its club, roaring in anger as it prepared to turn the Stalker into a bloody paste with a single blow, towering above the serial killer lazing about as if nothing was wrong, his hands in his pockets.
Lily raised her wand, as well, ready to curse the Stalker in his back, her emotions and reasons haywire thanks to the strange reaction her subconscious had to his gaze.
"Mom, what are you doing?!" Rose hissed, gripping Lily's wand and trying to tug her away from the Stalker. "Do you have a death wish or something?"
There was another loud crash, making the four of them turn towards where the troll and the Stalker were locked in combat.
Their throats ran dry as their eyes managed to comprehend what they were seeing.
The Stalker was holding the troll's club with his bare hand, using only his right arm to block the overwhelming blow which would have crushed boulders, displaying inhuman, monstrous strength that was hidden in his lithe, toned body.
It served as a harsh reminder of the sheer power gap between herself and the serial killer, like an awakening slap across her face, making her realise that even though his back was turned, she could not ever hope to try and curse him and come out of it alive. Her teeth gritted, she sheathed her wand back, suddenly conscious of the two other first-years staring at her wide-eyed.
"I'm sorry. Let's go to the Great Hall, the teachers are there looking after the students- where are you going?!" It was her turn to hiss angrily as she was tugged away from the first-floor girl's bathroom where the troll and the serial killer engaged in combat, Rose tugging her along urgently by the hand as she followed Susan and Astoria as the three seemed to head to a particular destination not known by Lily.
"The third floor," Astoria replied for the benefit of the bewildered Muggle Studies Professor and mother of her best friend, only puzzling her further.
"Why? There is another troll loose in the dungeons, the Headmaster has gone to head it off. I didn't know that there was another troll, so I came to get you. But now, we have no idea how many trolls there might be loose in the castle, so it's in your best interests to head to the Great Hall and stay under the protection of the other Professors. There is no need-"
"Will you shut up for a moment?!" Rose hissed venomously at her, leaving her hand. "If you want to go to the Great Hall, then free feel to do so. I'm, no, we are going to the third floor."
"May I at least know why?" Lily questioned, trying to hide the hurt she was feeling. It was not the time for emotions.
It was time for action, and she kept pace with the three first years sprinting up the staircase, bounding up two, three stairs at a time, all headed for the third floor. What was so special about it?
"Umm... No-nothing. Just come silently, or go away." Rose snapped back after a moment of hesitation, which did not go unnoticed by her mother.
The distant sound of a crash reverberating through the deserted castle only made the four of them quicken their pace, racing towards the mystery that awaited them in the third-floor corridor.
"Wooh! This is the most fun I've had in a while!" Violet laughed, ducking beneath another blow from the troll she and her three Gryffindor friends were pitted up against, utterly carefree as if the blow hadn't been aimed to take her head, and half of her body along with it, off.
What was a troll even doing here, she had no idea, nor did she care. The only thought running through her mind was survival, which had quickly been replaced by mirth as she saw how easily she and her friends could dance around it, and lead it around like a blind donkey with a carrot. The only thing that might have even slightly dissuaded them from hanging around for too long with the troll was taken care of easily by the scented handkerchiefs they had conjured, firmly tied around their noses to block the horrendous stench of troll.
"I'd rather play Quidditch than face off against a deadly troll." Angelina retorted sarcastically, "As if Quidditch didn't have enough danger of us getting turned into paste. Nooo, I'm sure that a fifty-foot fall would be Tuesday for us."
"Oh, shut up, Johnson." Her teammate, Alicia, snapped towards her as she sprinted behind the troll, trying to distract it as she raised her wand. "Reducto."
The spell crashed into the troll, making it stumble briefly before it turned towards her, roaring in anger.
Alicia skipped away, dancing out of the beast's reach, thanking Wood, the tyrannical Quidditch junkie, mentally for training her relentlessly. She could barely feel the exertion, despite the cool beads of sweat making her dark skin glisten.
"Yeah, this is a like a giant, dangerous game of tag," Katie responded with her own laugh, ignoring the danger she was in as the troll was distracted by another Reducto curse crashing into its back, courtesy of Angelina, giving her enough time to sprint away from the corner she had been backed into without any ounce of fear.
"Fuck yeah, let's go, Chasers!" Violet cheered as if she was in an intense game of Quidditch against Slytherin, sending an exploding curse towards the troll, attracting its attention as she danced away. The troll had barely taken a few steps towards her when it was distracted by another spell crashing into its back.
"Yeah, alright, fine, it's kinda fun." Angelina conceded slightly reluctantly, sighing as she shook her head fondly at her typical Gryffindor friends.
"Bombardo Maxima." She whispered, making the troll roar angrily in pain as the spell collided with its back, the dangerous exploding curse only discolouring its disgusting, slimy grey, magic resistant skin briefly. The troll roared again, before it again turned towards her, confused and unaware of what was going on and how the four fourth-year girls were leading it around by the nose, like the dumb animal it was.
"Alright, let's switch it up a little bit." Alicia, ever the most energetic out of all of them, proposed, smiling giddily before she raised her wand.
"Aguamenti." Correctly guessing what she was thinking, as if the four had some telepathic mental connection forged through years of training and playing Quidditch together, the other three followed suit with their own spells, flooding the corridor with water.
"Glacius Maxima." Violet finished for her friend, all four friends standing still for a moment, before casting friction charms on their own shoes so that they wouldn't slip on the ice.
Gleeful, slightly sadistic laughter rang out from the four Gryffindors as the floor immediately froze over, making the troll stumble before it crashed to the floor, a sickening crunch echoing through the corridor as it broke some bone under its own colossal weight. The ice crunched as well, cracking under the impact, cracked webs spreading throughout the glassy surface.
"Accio club." Alicia intoned, summoning the club towards her.
"Wingardium Leviosa." Katie finished for her, levitating the club out of the troll's reach, before tossing it away with a little casual flick of her wand.
"Alright, as much fun as this is, we should probably finish this right now. No use stretching it on any longer." Angelina started, before trailing off, "I still don't understand what the troll is even doing here. Didn't Quirrel say that it was in the dungeons? For that matter, what are we even doing here?"
"..." There was a brief moment of tense silence as the three looked towards Violet, whose face had darkened for a brief moment as she remembered all about the loss her family had endured on this fateful day, something which severely turned her off ever celebrating Halloween.
"Oh... sorry."
Before any words could be shared between them, another new voice cut in.
"Violet!" Both Lily and Rose shouted in worry as they sprinted towards her, looking warily at the troll trying, but failing to get back on its feet, constantly crashing to the icy floor.
"Are you alright? What happened?" The Lady Potter fussed over her eldest daughter, looking over for any injuries as she ignored the others standing there awkwardly.
"Rose. What are you doing here?" Violet asked her sister, callously ignoring her mother fussing over her as she narrowed her eyes in suspicion towards Rose, watching her shift nervously under her gaze.
"Umm... can we talk about this later? There is a troll we need to attend to first. After that, I'm sure we can make time for a nice long chat around the fire, if we make it to the Gryffindor common room." Angelina interrupted, making Violet look up from berating her sister, but not after she sent her a look that warned that she was not off the hook yet.
"Alright." She looked towards Lily reluctantly, finally forced to acknowledge her, similar emerald eyes clashing. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
She smiled at Lily, though it did not quite reach her eyes.
Lily noticed this, making her lips curl downwards in a slight frown. Both Violet and Rose had been like this ever since the news of Harry being missing came in, all the way back in Violet and Lyra's first year. Even Lyra, who was normally very warm and familial with her, had distanced herself. The three girls almost seemed like they were isolating themselves from the elders.
"You're right. Come on, everybody. On the count of three, fire your strongest spell towards the troll." Lily instructed, taking command as she stood tall and proud like the warrior she was, raising her wand towards the struggling beast, preparing to knock it out.
"Ready? Three, two, one, Bombardo Maxima." Similar shouts rang out in the corridor, even the three first years joining in with their strongest offensive spell, wands glowing and spells flying all towards the mindless beast struggling to get on its feet, ignorant of the danger it was in or the ice shards embedded in its body, or the blood and mucus running down its flattened face.
What happened next, would prevent Rose from ever popping grapes again at the breakfast table.
Yeah, the troll's little grape-like head, popped. Literally.
It just popped. Spraying blood, mucus, brain and grey skin everywhere, gore that looked like a goth's wet dream.
Blood and mucus splattered the walls, some even covering the scarlet robes of Angelina and Alicia, who were standing closest to the troll, painting the entire corridor in a disgusting shade of crimson and making the ice beneath their feet look like rubies.
Wands slipped from shaking hands, the students too shocked to do anything. They clattered to the icy floor, and save for that little sound, silence reigned in the corridor. Had they underestimated their own power or overestimated the troll's protection?
Knees trembled, shaking and weak in fear.
Lily's lips trembled.
Rose and Astoria sank to the floor on their knees, Susan following suit a few moments later, as she doubled over, emptying her stomach.
Nobody paid her any attention.
Alicia leaned on Angelina, suddenly all fun in fighting the troll fleeing like a spell being lifted as darkness flooded the third-floor corridor.
Did... did the Stalker know that this would happen if they came here? Is that why he sent them here, to make them commit murder? Or had he known that the Gryffindors had been in danger, is that why he sent them here, seeing Lily?
But no... he had told them to go to the third floor before he saw Lily. He wanted them to kill the troll.
No, how could he have known what the outcome would be?
What could he get out of tainting them with murder? What could he possibly be playing at? Why did he even protect them in the first place?
No. Why was he even here in Hogwarts?
Was it even considered murder even if it was killing a dumb beast like a troll? Wouldn't it be the same as killing an annoying insect?
No.
That was something someone like the Stalker would think. Every murder, every life snubbed, like a worthless insect, a broken toy, prey needed for survival.
Rose slumped forward, holding her head in her hands.
No.
Her body wracked with sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her glasses slid off her nose, shattering as they hit the floor. Her vision turned hazy, both from the tears and the lack of spectacles, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
What had she done?
Could this have been solved without resorting to lethal means?
She was jerked out of her morbid thoughts by her elder sister.
"Well, fuck me sideways."
AN: ...9K instead of the predicted 6K. The last bit was a bit rushed, but I don't have any idea how to improve upon it, hmm...
Why did Quirrel release trolls throughout the castle? Is it because he didn't know that the Stone was already destroyed but thought that it might be hidden somewhere? Was it a distraction?
Comment your thoughts.
Alright, let's see. This was gonna be my last chapter before I returned to Dealing with Drama again, but now that I've entered the first year, I can't leave without seeing it through.
So, you have me till chapter 15.
Keep calm and headbang!