A/N: To the reviewer operating under the guise of "Guest" I propose an experiment for you to conduct: 1) Have your parents murdered when you are a year old. 2) Be raised in an environment of neglect and disdain. 3) Have 95% of all people that you know, and everyone that you don't turn on you and call you a lying piece of scum for an extended period of time on four separate occasions. 4) Witness someone being killed right before your eyes. 5) See the killer of you parents be reborn using your blood. 6) Be tortured both mentally and physically by the aforementioned killer on multiple occasions. 7) See the closest thing you have to a parent get killed in front of you. 8) See your mentor be killed by a man he insisted you trust. 9) Be told that you are the only one who can stop the killer of your parents, and yet have practically little-to-no knowledge on how you might possibly do so. 10) Be abandoned by the two people in your life whom you are closest to. 11) Witness from the killer's point of view the murders of your parents (repeat this viewing on countless occasions. 12) See many people you know, both friends and acquaintances, get slaughtered, all the while knowing that, had you had more information available to you, you could have prevented it. 13) Relive those deaths on multiple occasions. 14) Spend twenty years completely alone save for two shiny little trinkets that slowly corrupt you.

Once you have done all of the above, then you can decide whether or not the Harry in this story should be dismissed as an "Emo" as you have done.

Anyway, on with the story.

Darkened World

The Ministry

The atrium of the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain was bustling with activity. Wizards and witches marched to and fro, going about their daily ministerial business. Some of them carried clipboards to make themselves look important. Others carried rolls of parchment to make it seem like they had something important to do.

Due to this, the Ministry on the whole was the same as it had ever been: filled with people with illusions of perceived importance who really were anything but.

Once Voldemort had taken hold of it, Hogwarts had become the real stronghold. The castle, not the Ministry, was Voldemort's base of operations. The Ministry, however, still had its uses.

It was from this central point that the prisons were run, with all prisoner information being stored here. It was here that the "Goblin Hunters" were located; a team dedicated to wiping out all traces of Goblins in the country (they hadn't had a lot to do lately). The Ministry now also served as a bank, after the destruction of Gringotts. Information on every Death Eater and their families was kept here. And the Aurors were kept here, not that they deserved that title. They were just average wizards and witches who were not cut out to fight on the frontline of the war.

In short, it was where Voldemort kept all the purebloods that were of little or no use to his big plans of world domination.

It kept them occupied.

It kept them out of the way.

And it was into this hustle and bustle that Bellatrix Lestrange arrived with nearly twenty other Death Eaters and two prisoners, both of whom had brown cloth sacks over their heads, hiding their faces.

Bellatrix sauntered through the atrium ahead of the group, the crowd parting before her as she went. She knew that her two new captives really should be taken to Hogwarts, but she had caught Harry Potter and his mudblood-whore, and she could not resist the opportunity to lord it over the rest. Undesirable Number 1 and Undesirable Number 2, both known to be missing and presumed to be dead, who had kept themselves hidden from the Death Eaters for over twenty years, had been found and brought in by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange herself.

And why shouldn't she lord it over them? It had, after all, been the Ministry wizards that had allowed Potter and his whore to slip through their grasp twenty years ago.

She felt shivers of joy at the thought of how her Lord Voldemort, her love, would reward her for this.

She made her way over to the gigantic lump of black stone that was the "Magic is Might" statue that dominated the centre of the atrium. She stood before this, and the others lined up with her, facing the crowd, which stared back at them with rapt attention.

Bellatrix gave a nod to two of the other Death Eaters, and the sacks were pulled, none too gently, off of the heads of the two prisoners.

The crowd gasped.

"Twenty years ago" Bellatrix began in a loud voice that dripped with sadistic glee "You pathetic quill pushers allowed Undesirable Number 1, Harry Potter and his mudblood whore to escape your grasp. Today I, Bellatrix Lestrange, the greatest and most loyal supporter of our Dark Lord has succeeded in capturing them both."

She let out an insane laugh.

The crowd seemed to take this as their cue, for her laughter was soon drowned out in a cacophony of spiteful shouting and jeering insults that were directed that the two captives.

Rose felt a little frightened at the sea of hate filled faces before her, but one glance at Harry showed that he did not seem to be all that bothered by it. On the contrary, his expression was one of indifference and boredom. Remembering the stories her mother had told her of Harry, Rose realised that this really shouldn't be all that surprising; Harry was probably used to this sort of thing by now.

Bellatrix allowed the crowd five long and gruelling (from Rose's point of view) minutes to taunt and jeer before turning to her fellow Death Eaters and announcing "We must take them to the castle."

"You are aware, are you not, Bellatrix," said a tall, black-haired wizard with a beard and an overhanging forehead "that the Dark Lord in currently unavailable."

Bellatrix wheeled around to face him "What was that, Pius?"

"I said he's not available." replied the man, now identified as the puppet Minister for Magic Pius Thicknesse "He left for Germany this morning to personally aid in the frontline of defence against those marauding rebels who defy us."

To Rose, Bellatrix suddenly looked rather like a child, whose much-loved red balloon had just popped. It seemed apparent that she was not aware of this. Apparently there was trouble on the horizon in Bellatrix's paradise.

Obviously put out at this news, Bellatrix rounded on her fellow Death Eaters "You two," she snapped, jabbing her finger at the two Death Eaters holding Harry and Rose "Get them down to the holding cells. Potter never was too clever around Dementors. The rest of you with me."

She span on her heel and marched off, looking furious. The others followed her as Harry and Rose were shoved towards the golden lifts at the back of the atrium.

Rose shivered as the Dementor glided by the cell door once again. They really were horrible monsters.

Seemingly in defiance of all that she thought knew of him, as well as all that Bellatrix appeared to know of him, Harry gave no outward sign that he noticed the presence of the Dementor. Instead he was sitting in the opposite corner of the cell, clearly lost in thought.

Rose wondered what he could possibly be thinking about, other than what was surely going to be their demise.

The Dementor passed by the cell again, and Rose shivered once more. Merlin, what wouldn't she give for a blanket.

"Are your parents happy, Rose?"

Harry's question was so out of the blue that, for a fleeting moment, Rose felt like she had been hit over the head by a bludger. Why would he be thinking about her parents at a time like this?

She looked towards Harry, who was looking back at her, through eyes that were filled with a deep emotional anguish.

It took her a few moments, but finally Rose answered "No," she said with a shake of her head "No, they aren't."

"Why?" asked Harry.

Rose looked towards the door. They were being guarded only by a Dementor. No one else would hear.

She moved towards Harry and sat down beside him. She was silent for a few moments longer, before she began to talk.

"They haven't been together since I was ten. Mum was always plagued by guilt over their abandonment of you, and Ronald Weasley hated that. Mum's been getting treatment for a mild form of depression for as long as I can remember, and he disapproved. The wizarding world never delved into the realms of psychiatric treatments, and that meant that Mum has to resort to muggle methods. Ron's just as bad as most of the wizards in this building, at least as far as their opinions of muggles go. If it can't be done by magic, then it can't be done at all. He was always upsetting her, always picking fights. Can't have been nice for him, knowing that if she had the chance to choose again, she'd have picked you in a heartbeat."

"I notice that you never refer to him as "Dad."" observed Harry.

Rose's face darkened "That's because he's not. Any bloke can father a child, but it takes someone special to be a Dad, and he most certainly was not worthy of the title."

"What happened to them?"

Rose gave a shrug "He was violent and was drunk most of the time. He hit Mum frequently. One day Uncle George and Aunt Angelina walked in when it was happening, right in front of me. I've never seen either Fred or George get that angry before. Ron being his brother didn't stop George breaking Ron's jaw for him as Angelina got Mum and I out of the room. Grandma Molly hated it, but the rest of the family agreed that Ron's actions could not unpunished. He went to prison, and has been there ever since.

"No one says it, but we all think that that's what killed Grandma Molly. She was so full of grief for those final eight months of her life."

"And your Mum?"

"She's gotten better, especially now that he's not around. She still sees a therapist, but not as often as she used to. Despite her problems, she got a job, something he never let her have. She said she couldn't see a way to be useful to you, but she would do something helpful in the war. So she became a healer. Because of her metal state she's not allowed to be on the front line, providing immediate medical treatment to casualties, but she remains in Australia, helping with physiotherapy and rehabilitation, two concepts she introduced to the magical society."

Harry said nothing for a couple of minutes, and then he confessed "I never really believed that a romantic relationship between Hermione and Ron could possibly work out. That's why I was so shocked when she left that night."

"Mum finally figured that out four months after that night." replied Rose.

"So why did she stay with him?" he asked.

"A combination of fear of being alone, and… well, something else."

"What?"

"She… Mum was pregnant with me, okay? She got pregnant with me shortly after abandoning you. That's why she stuck with him. At least it was at first. Then it was mostly fear of what he would do if she did try to leave."

Rose felt tears stinging at her eyes. This was such a painful topic, and one that she did her best to avoid discussing with anyone. Ever.

And then something quite unexpected happened.

Harry lifted an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. Rose's breath hitched out of surprise, but she quickly got over that and leaned against Harry, resting her head on his shoulder.

It was surprisingly comforting.

It saddened Rose to think that, had her mother not taken leave of her senses on one cold, stormy night in early November, over twenty years ago, then Rose would have grown up knowing Harry as her Uncle. He would have probably her favourite Uncle as well.

'No, that's not right.' she told herself, mentally. Had her mother not taken leave of her senses, Rose would not have grown up calling Harry her Uncle. She'd have grown up calling him "Dad."

And right now, with this once simple offering of comfort that he was giving her in what might be their final hour, Rose couldn't help but think that Harry James Potter was one hundred times more deserving of the title of "Dad" than her father, Ronald Bilius Weasley had ever been.

She glanced towards Harry's face, and saw that his eyes were closed. For a moment she thought he was thinking, but then realised that he was asleep.

The Dementor seemed to have decided to leave them alone for a bit and, with the cell no longer quite as cold as it had been earlier, Rose felt her own eyes growing heavy as well.

The door to their prison cell unlocked with a loud metallic clunk and then it creaked open slowly. Harry and Rose both awoke and looked up to see the imposing figures of two large Death Eaters framed in the doorway.

"Time for you two to answer some questions." grunted the larger/rounder of the two. His voice was almost like that of a Troll.

Harry and Rose were pulled to their feet, their hands were bound tightly, and they were led away from their cell.

They were led up through the Ministry, and both of them noticed that there were still a lot of people going about their business (though mostly wandering aimlessly), so they could not have been asleep all that long (unless this was the next day of course, but both doubted it).

The golden lift came to a stop and the doors rattled open as a voice spoke "Level One: Minister of Magic and Support Staff."

Rose heard a low growling sound, and realised that it was coming from Harry. One look at him told her that he knew exactly who they were about to be questioned by.

The two Death Eaters paid Harry's audible displeasure no mind and marched their two prisoners out into the corridor.

The first passed a couple of doors that looked unimportant, and then one that had a shiny gold plaque that read;

Pius Thicknesse

Minister for Magic

They went straight by that door. That puzzled Rose; surely they were to be questioned by the puppet Minister.

They came to the next door. Its plaque read

Dolores Umbridge

Senior Undersecretary to the Minister

Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission.

That name rang a bell, but as they were marched towards that door, Rose could not place it. One thing was for sure, what with this being the Ministry; whoever was on the other side of that door would be no friend of theirs.

One of the Death Eaters pummelled his fit against the door in an unceremonious knock.

From within a high, simpering, girlish voice called out "Come in."

The Death Eater shoved the door open and Harry and Rose were shunted inside.

And suddenly Rose did not need to think on the identity of the owner of the name anymore. For the squat, toad-like woman who sat behind the desk with a black bow in her short hair and who was wearing far, far too much pink could have no other name than Dolores Umbridge.

That meant that the scowling, black robed man sitting in a chair next to the desk was most probably the Death Eater known as Yaxley.

With an expression that was somehow both simpering and maniacal at the same time, Dolores Umbridge spoke.

"Good afternoon, Mr Potter."

Her voice was so sickeningly sweet that Rose could almost feel the cavities opening up in her teeth.

She glanced towards Harry. A muscle in the side of his neck seemed to be spasming like mad.

But apart from that, he was maintaining a very unaffected persona, and he said nothing to acknowledge the toad-like monstrosity before them.

Rose had the sinking feeling that this meeting was going to end in bloodshed, and not everyone currently in this room was going to make it out alive.

With her knife and Harry's wand sitting in plain sight on Umbridge's desk, the odds of the survivors being either Harry or Rose did not look good.

A/N: From one mad bitch to another! Shorter chapter this time, but it gets the job done. In this chapter you got to see that the Ministry is still as unchanging as ever, but more importantly, this chapter was Rose's turn to do the talking, and now Harry and Rose are where they need to be for the story to continue.

Next chapter you'll get to see what this pair is really made of.