Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. It is J.K. Rowling's (besides the original bits)
A/N: I think I'm gonna pair Rose with Draco Malfoy, but that might change.
Chapter 3
The next two days were spent sleeping, eating, and trying to convince Madam Pomfrey to let me out of the hospital wing. I didn't know if it was because the teachers were afraid that I was going to blab about my muggle-ness to someone or if it was because they were genuinely careful about my "injured state," but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me walk through those hospital wing doors. I was starting to go crazy, alone in the large marble room. I'd been wearing the same clothes for two days, and the skirt was wrinkly. My feet were starting to hurt from pacing the hospital wing floors in my heels, and my hair was a mess. I'd refused the offered shower as a sign of resistance, but I was close to asking for one because my tight bun could only hold grease out for so long.
I'd come to the conclusion that I might as well push aside ideas of this place not being real, because 1) in the case that I was wrong and it was real, I didn't want to make a fool of myself, and 2) who wouldn't want this to be real, besides being stuck in one room for days without much human interaction? (actually, besides that, the food was good and I was a fan of the book series).
Finally, on the evening of the second day of being in Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore walked into the hospital room. His hair flowed a little bit behind him, along with his purplish-blue robes. His blackened, dead hand contrasted with his pastel outfit.
I had been sitting on the bed when he arrived, and I quickly stood up. I wobbled a little bit in my shoes, then pretended I hadn't, smoothing my skirt.
Dumbledore regarded me with unsettlingly twinkling eyes, as if I hadn't fallen from a ceiling or been stuck in a castle wing for the past few days. Finally after a few seconds of me shifting uncomfortably, he said, "Ms. Evans, I am afraid to say that we will have to remove your memory of this place."
What. The. Hell.
"What?" I asked, outraged.
"It's Ministry law, and you are a muggle. Unfortunately, we cannot allow you to leave here with memories of magic. Now, it's your choice about what you would like to remember in place of the last few days, but you aren't allowed to remember this school," Dumbledore said. My mouth was hanging open a bit.
"But I don't remember the rest of my life," I protested. "If you take my memories away, I won't have any memories at all."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Evans. I'll give you a memory about being in an accident that caused amnesia, but I can't do much else." Dumbledore drew his wand from his sleeve. Wait. He was going to erase my memory right now? I thought I'd have a little while.
Dumbledore started to say "Obli—"
"No!" I exclaimed. I made a move as if to block the light with my hand. Suddenly, Dumbledore stopped talking and lowered his wand as a piercing sound rang through the hospital wing. I turned to find the windows shattered, glass shards making sharp, musical sounds as they crashed to the floor and hit the side of the castle on their way down to the ground outside. Dumbledore froze, staring at me. Had I done that?
"Hmmm," he said, regarding me with a somewhat calculating glint in his eyes. He looked at me over his half-moon glasses. If he could see without those, what was the point in wearing them, anyway? "As I thought," he said, "you're a witch." Wait, what?
"What do you mean I'm a witch?"
"I didn't do that, and I'm fairly sure that the glass did not shatter on its own. That leaves you, Miss Evans," he said. "It's really quite similar to how someone younger than eleven reacts," he continued. At my outraged look at the comparison, he added, "magically, of course. Your instincts caused your magic to… explode, in a way. Uncontrolled, of course, but definitely the magic of a witch."
"Huh," I said, not knowing what else to say. "Did you know this when you decided to obliviate me?"
Ol' Dumbledore had the decency to look a bit guilty. "Yes, I suspected." The skinny old twit.
"That's so not cool!" I spit out. "You were gonna actually erase my memory, if your little experiment didn't prove correct?" Albus Dumbledore just stood there, wand in hand, smirking an old man smirk. I groaned. He was annoying.
"I know you might be a little bit mad right now, Miss Evans, but I would like to suggest you attend our school here," Dumbledore said.
"And if I refuse?" I asked.
"Well, I will not, of course, keep you here against your will, but it seems a good solution. Do you have anywhere else to go?" He had a point of course, and it was irritating me.
"Would I be a first year here or something?" I asked. I didn't particularly want to be in classes with little eleven-year-olds when I was five years older than them.
"No, I do not think so. I think we could get you decently caught up with extra private classes," the headmaster said. "It would be difficult and it would take a lot of time investment on your part, but it is possible. As most things are, of course. You do not have to decide right now, but if you are interested in magic, it would be best to start as soon as possible."
"I'll do it," I said, surprisingly myself. I mean, I might be in a coma, somewhere in a hospital bed, but I might as well have a bit of fun while I was. And if I wasn't, and this was somehow real, then even better. Professor Dumbledore didn't look surprised. His facial expression barely changed, but the twinkle in his eyes grew.
"Well then, I'll show you to my office where you can be sorted," he said. He turned and started walking. I followed him, much to the protest of my aching feet.
As we walked out of the hospital wing doors, my breath was taken away by how real everything looked. The stone walls were rough and lit by sunlight coming from the large glass windows on the wall. The staircases were shifting ahead of us. The paintings on the walls were shifting and looking at me curiously. It was all so vivid, and in that moment I almost believed that I wasn't somewhere in a hospital bed, asleep.
I absorbed the different and new sights that I saw as we walked to the headmaster's office. A lot of the marble floor was clean, but occasionally I would see a chip that looked too smooth to be non-magical, or a bit where it had been stained purple or blue. The walls sometimes looked too glassy to be real, and sometimes looked like part of a museum exhibit about medieval architecture. None of the candles were lit, probably because the sun was out.
Finally, after a few minutes of huffing and puffing on my part, the professor of course being unaffected by the trip, we reached the large gargoyle statue. Its eyes followed me as we approached, causing shivers to run down my spine.
"Hello," Dumbledore greeted the statue jovially. When he said "gumdrops," the statue nodded its head and stepped aside to let us walk up the stairs to Professor Dumbledore's office. "Have you ever had gumdrops?" Dumbledore asked me. "They're quite good, you know."
"I don't recall," I said monotonously, and decided that I should probably start getting used to using that answer.
We reached his office door, and as we entered, I caught sight of Fawkes. The bird was small, so he must have just been reborn. Its big eyes, which happened to be looking at me, seemed too intelligent for such a young-looking bird. It was a little bit creepy.
"Take a seat," Dumbledore said, gesturing to a stool in the middle of his office, as if he had been expecting this outcome the entire time.
I slowly walked over to the stool, still soaking in the room. It was huge, with a red rug in the center, on top of which a large desk stood. A small cup of extravagant quills caught my attention, then the huge globe on the side of the room. As I sat down, crossing my legs, I caught a glimpse of the pensieve in the cabinet to my left. It was stone, and a glint of liquid shone before my view was obscured by a large, floppy hat that had most certainly seen better days. Its black fabric was peeling in a couple places, and on rips that apparently were not left to hang, there were black stitches. A mouth was dented into the hat, and two little indentations that I supposed were meant to be eyes. The tip of the hat twitched as Dumbledore brought it closer to my head. I winced to think of all the possible germs that could be inside of the hat.
"This hat will sort you into one of four houses, Miss Evans," Dumbledore said. "There is Gryffindor, for those who value bravery, Ravenclaw for those who value intelligence and knowledge, Hufflepuff, for those who value loyalty, and Slytherin, for those who value ambition and cunning." I knew this already, but I simply nodded as he placed the Sorting Hat on my head. I already knew which house I wanted to be in.
The moment the fabric touched my hair, I heard the hat's voice in my head.
Ah yes. A familiar face, or should I say head? If the hat was expecting me to laugh, it was sorely disappointed. A bit sassy, are we? Well, so was the one you share a soul with. Now, to sort you, it said.
I want to be in Slytherin, I thought as loudly as I could. I'd decided it before arriving in this castle. All of the online quizzes I'd taken had told me that was where I belonged, and I knew why. I was ambitious, cunning, and selfish. And I accepted and valued that about myself.
Well you certainly know what you want, the hat said, right before shouting "Gryffindor!"
What. The. Hell. I thought students were supposed to be able to pick my house! I'd clearly made my decision in my head, and the Sorting Hat had completely ignored it!
"Wait!" I said as Dumbledore pulled the hat off of my head. "That wasn't what I chose!"
"Well, Miss Evans, you clearly did something to suggest Gryffindor, because this hat hasn't been outright wrong for centuries," the headmaster said. He walked across the room to place the hat on a shelf as I sat there, my mouth hanging open. I definitely wasn't a brave person. Sure, sometimes I was daring, but that was usually for my own gain, not because I was looking out for others. "Now," Dumbledore continued matter-of-factly, "one of the Gryffindor prefects, Miss Granger, is here to show you to your room. I will contact you regarding your schedule and the extra lessons, but for now, please get some rest."
I wanted to scream that I'd gotten five days of rest, and that I didn't want to wait, but I stifled the urge, grinding my teeth. A knock at the door almost made me jump.
"Ah yes, that must be Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. The fact that he had already summoned her proved to me that he had known I would end up in Gryffindor. I sighed and would have stomped out of his office had it not been for my aching feet.
I opened the door and was met with the frizzy-haired girl I'd met in the hospital wing.
"Hello Rose," Hermione said. "Nice you see you again. I was told I'm to lead you to the Gryffindor dormitories?"
"Yeah," I muttered. "I guess so."
"Well, then, follow me," she said and began a steady stride down the stairs and out of Dumbledore's little section of the castle. For someone so short, she sure was quick. I had to hurry to catch up with her.
"Hold on," I said. I kneeled down to take my shoes off. I hadn't taken them off before because I wanted to spare Professor Dumbledore the sight of my somewhat gross feet. They had callouses and a few blisters on them from ballet. Tape was wrapped around my second toe. Hermione eyed my feet but didn't comment. When I finished, and held both shoes in my right hand, we continued on our way.
