As I sit at a small table in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron, I can't help but remember. The way Mother cackled whenever I screamed in agony... The way my stomach would feel like it was collapsing in on itself after days without food... The ache I still get as I wake up in the morning.
I know these things won't fade away. Not for a long time, at least. No, the memories will stay with me forever. But I'm safe now. Well, I hope I am at least. I must be.
I'm interrupted from my thoughts by the creak of the door opening. I turn, just as I do whenever it opens, hoping it's the Hagrid person I am supposed to stay with. When I finally understand what I'm seeing, the name is driven from my mind as my mouth drops open.
It is a huge man, and I don't mean huge as in just taller than average, I mean huge. He is more than twice the size of me, with a huge, tangled beard and beetle black eyes.
I sink down in my chair without realizing it.
"The usual, Hagrid?" the barkeeper asks, smiling at the common customer.
So this is Hagrid. Dumbledore wasn't lying when he said I wouldn't be able to miss him.
"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," Hagrid replies, clapping a large hand on the shoulders of the small boy next to him.
That's the first time I notice the boy. He has messy, jet black hair and eyes as green as my Mother's old jewels. I notice that he seems a little overwhelmed by everything that is going on and smile. I'm glad I'm not the only one.
"Good Lord," the bartender gasps, leaning over the bar to get a good look at the boy. "Is this - can this be -?" I tilt my head in confusion. Why did the entire pub go silent? "Bless my soul," he finally whispers, collecting himself. "Harry Potter... What an honor."
As the old man hurriedly emerges from behind the bar to shake Harry's hand, I freeze. No, this can't be Harry Potter. Not the Harry that Mother would constantly complain about for killing the Dark Lord. That's not possible.
Yet, it is.
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back," the bartender tells Harry, tears in his eyes.
I get up slowly and cautiously, but stay by my table. I won't go over to him and Hagrid until they are about to leave for Diagon Alley. If I go over before that... Well, I don't want people to stare at me like that, too.
I watch silently from the shadows as Harry is engulfed by the entire pub. I think I see him shaking hands with everyone, but I can't be sure. There are too many people around him.
A man in a large turban makes his way to Harry as I begin to step forward sluggishly, not wanting to be surrounded by so many people. I stand on the edge of the crowd, waiting. Then Hagrid spots me.
"Rosaline!" he exclaims, sounding overjoyed. "I was wonderin' where yeh were!"
I smile tentatively as the crowd parts before me, clearing a path to Harry and Hagrid. I hurry to the pair and Hagrid sends the crowd away, ready to leave.
I follow him out the door into a small courtyard with only a trash can and a few weeds in it. Looking around, I frown. This clearly isn't Diagon Alley.
"Harry, this is Rosaline," Hagrid introduced. We look at each other awkwardly.
"Hi," I say softly, looking out the ground, like I always do when I'm speaking.
"Hello," Harry says, louder than me. I peek up and see that he is looking at Hagrid with a clear question on his face. What is she doing here?
"Yer both gonna be firs' years when you go to Hogwarts," Hagrid explains. I smile at Harry shyly and he grins back, still seeming confused, but genuine. "You both need school supplies, so since I was already bringing yeh, Harry, Dumbledore told me to take Rosaline, too. That alright?"
"Yeah," Harry agrees. "Of course."
Hagrid beams.
"Wonderful," he says. "How's the Ministry treatin' yeh, Rose?"
"Fine," I reply, not even pausing at the new nickname. I have to admit, it's kind of nice. Mother would always call me by my full name. Rose is almost a… A new identity, in a way. "The food's good."
"Bah, that garbage?" Hagrid laughs. "Just wait 'til yeh get ter Hogwarts."
The Ministry food is garbage? Really? Well, it's not like I know much about food quality. I'm not surprised I was wrong. Of course, if the Ministry food seems so good to me, I wonder what the Hogwarts food tastes like.
"You know who Harry is, don't yeh?" Hagrid asks. I nod mutely and Hagrid smiles gently. He must know where I learned it. "Told yeh, didn't I, Harry? Told yeh you was famous."
Harry looks at me, turning bright red. I smile comfortingly, not really understanding what it's like to be famous, but trying to imagine.
"Three up... Two across..." Hagrid mutters in the meantime. "Right, stand back you two."
I don't understand, but I take a step backwards as Hagrid taps a brick three times with a pink umbrella. That's new to me.
Then, suddenly, the wall is moving, a hole growing in the middle. It stretches and stretches and just a moment later I'm looking at a large archway leading to a small cobblestone street that continually twists and turns until goes behind a tall building.
My mouth falls open on its own accord.
"Welcome," Hagrid says, "to Diagon Alley."
"Whoa..." I say in amazement as I step through the archway, the first one to do so. When I look back, the archway has shrunk back into a solid wall.
I start walking, forgetting to wait for Hagrid and Harry. There are so many shops filled with every magical item imaginable. I stop in front of a cauldron shop, staring at the displays in the window. As I look, I notice Harry and Hagrid walk up behind me. Hagrid says something about Harry and me needing cauldrons for school, but having to get our money first. To be honest, I'm not listening. I'm too busy soaking everything in.
We begin walking again, both me and Harry craning our necks to look at every little thing. I knew all of this existed in the first place, of course, but to actually see it... This is a miracle. There's just everything! Displays of books and brooms and potions... This has always been my life, but somehow, I feel as though I'm just beginning to experiencing it.
"Gringotts," Hagrid suddenly states.
I look straight in front of me to see an elaborate white building that easily dwarfs every other shop on the street. Standing next to its bronze doors, as if it is on guard duty, is a goblin, wearing a uniform of bright red and gold. I've never actually seen a real goblin before!
As we step through the huge marble doors, the goblin bows to me. To me, a girl who was her mother's slave just days ago. Now I'm being treated like royalty… At least by this one goblin.
The inside of Gringotts is somehow even more impressive than the outside. My eyes don't know what to focus on. Maybe the hundred goblins sitting behind the long counter, or the busy doors, or the precious gems... I finally stop trying to take in everything at once and follow Hagrid up to the counter.
"Morning," he says to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's and Ms. Rosaline..." He pauses for a moment and looks over at me, wondering what to say for my last name, but I shrug.
"Er… Laetus is the name I chose," I tell him quietly. I see Harry look at me strangely from the corner of my eye and blush. I feel the need to apologize to him for not being normal.
"Ms. Rosaline Laetus's vaults."
"You have their keys, sir?"
"Got 'em here somewhere," Hagrid says, emptying the pockets of his large coat onto the counter. The goblin gives him a disgusted look, but Hagrid doesn't see.
"Got 'em," Hagrid finally says, holding up two very small golden keys.
The goblin leans over the desk and peers at the keys.
"That seems to be in order."
"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid adds importantly, sticking out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."
The goblin reads the letter carefully for a few minutes, so Harry and I go back to staring around the giant hall.
"Have you ever seen something so..." I begin, struggling with finding the word. "So... Magnificent?"
"No, never," Harry agrees. "Did you know about all this before?"
I hesitate for a moment.
"Er... Yes and no," I admit.
"What does that mean?"
"It's a really long story. I've never seen any of this but I knew about most of it." Harry nods in understanding. "Is this new to you?"
"Yeah," he says. "I was raised by, er, Muggles."
"This must be really hard to understand," I say.
"It is."
"I can try to help you. I really don't know much, but I can try."
He smiles and I return the gesture.
"Thanks."
"It's no problem."
Did I just make a friend? I don't know, is that how you make friends? This is really confusing...
The goblin sends us down to all three vaults and Harry and I are both surprised and thrilled to find a small fortune in both our vaults, though mine was more. Mother must have been very rich before she got arrested. I wonder when her trial is.
The You-Know-What that Hagrid was sent to get turns out to be wrapped in a small, dirty package, so I am unable to see it. That's okay, though. I'm used to ignoring my curiosity.
Then Hagrid leaves Harry and me to go to Madam Malkin's shop alone to get our uniforms. Though nervous, we go in together. Madam Malkin is quite kind, however.
"Hogwarts, dears?" she asks. I nod and she smiles. "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."
We are lead to the back of the shop where another boy is already standing on a footstool, being attended to by one of Madam Malkin's assistants. He is pale with platinum hair and a scrunched up face.
The woman calls another assistant out, who places me on a stool next to Harry and slips a long black robe over my head. She then begins to pin it to the right length. She doesn't comment on how unhealthily skinny I am, thank goodness. I really don't feel like explaining.
"Hello," the platinum haired boy says. "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," Harry replies for both me and him. I just nod.
"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands," the boy says, sounding bored. His voice has a drawling feel to it. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."
I've decided. I don't like him.
"Have either of you got your own broom?" he asks.
"No," I say this time, instead of Harry, my voice small and quiet.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"No, not yet," I tell him. Of course I already know what Quidditch is. It's hard not to, even if I was secluded my entire childhood.
"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what Houses you two will be in yet?"
"Nobody is sorted until we get there," I point out. "How are we supposed to know?"
To be honest, I'm just trying to cover for Harry's lack of knowledge. He seems like the kind of person to get embarrassed if he doesn't know this. So I'll help him. I don't see why I shouldn't.
"Yeah, that's true," the boy agrees. "But I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
"No, I would stay," I disagree angrily. "I don't see why a House would affect me wanting to be at Hogwarts, but if it does for you, then fine."
"Whatever," the boy says dismissively. He looks out the window. "I say, look at that man!"
Hagrid stands there, grinning at Harry and me, and pointing at three large ice cream cones to show why he can't come in. Oh, he didn't have to do that!
"That's Hagrid," I let Harry answer. "He works at Hogwarts."
"Oh," the boy says, sounding amused. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant isn't he?"
I clench my teeth, getting annoyed at the boy.
"He's the gamekeeper."
"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."
"I think he's brilliant," Harry says, his voice chilling the conversation.
"Do you?" the boy asks, sneering. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," Harry answers shortly. I look at the ground sadly.
"Oh, sorry." He doesn't sound like it. "And yours?" the boy asks me.
"None of your business," I tell him, ice on my voice.
"Were they our kind?" the boy persists.
"Mine were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean," Harry replies.
"And I still think it's none of your business," I tell him again, glaring.
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?" the boy continues as if he didn't hear me. "They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families."
"I think you should keep your opinion to yourself," I say, annoyed.
"Sorry, did I hurt your feelings?" the boy asks mockingly.
"Oh, no, not mine," I reply in the same sort of voice. "But if you go on saying those things, I might have to hurt your face."
The boy stares at me mutely as I walk out of the room, finally allowed to leave. Harry follows close behind.
We are silent for a while, him not really understanding what happened, me understanding too much. Mother was big on blood purity before she was arrested, too, but I never understood it. A wizard's a wizard, a person's a person. We aren't different. If everyone could get that through their thick skulls, the world will be so much better. But no, they have to cling to their stupid old beliefs.
Harry finally asks Hagrid about everything he didn't understand about the conversation and it's quickly cleared up. We then get all the school materials we need. Now all Harry and I just have to buy are our wands.
We go to a small shop Hagrid calls Ollivander's. The inside has thousands of boxes for wands stacked up to the ceiling. I can almost feel the magic radiating through this shop.
"Good afternoon," a soft voice greets us suddenly. Harry and Hagrid both jump, but I stay firmly on the ground. I don't usually get startled.
Mr. Ollivander is a very old man with wide, pale eyes, seeming to glow in the dimness of the shop. After we say hello, he goes over to Harry and recites his parents' wands. Then he starts going off about the Dark Lord and his wand, making Harry very uncomfortable. Hagrid is the next target and listens to Ollivander talk about his old wand. Then I'm up.
"Ah, Rosaline," Ollivander says, walking over to me. I shift uncomfortably. "Yes, yes, I remember your mother's wand. Blackthorn wood, eleven inches exactly, I remember. Quite uncommon, actually. Well, let's get started."
He begins measuring me, and wanders away as the tape measure continues on its own. I daydream as he tells about the cores and the uniqueness of his wands, but perk up as he begins to give me wands to test.
"Here, try this one," he says. "Vine and unicorn hair. Eight inches. Swishy. Give it a wave."
I move the wand around, but not a second later, he plucks the wand out of my hand and gives me another.
"Ebony and phoenix feather. Ten inches. Supple."
Again, it's rejected. I go through about five more wands before Ollivander seems to come up with an idea.
"Wait just a moment," he says before disappearing into the back. He came back a moment later with a long box in his hand. "Yew and… And thestral hair, twelve and a half inches. Supple."
As soon as I grab the wand, I know it's the one. It seems to know it too, because silver sparks begin flying from the tip immediately when I touch it. Ollivander gasps as I stare, mesmerized by the beauty.
"Incredible," he whispers. "I wouldn't have expected..."
"Expected what?"
"I've had this wand for many years, Rosaline. It is, in fact, much older than you are. I've tried it on many witches and wizards, but it refused to respond to all of them. I'd given up hope on matching it with anyone, but now it has chosen you."
"Why do you think that is?"
"I cannot say for certain, but I suspect it has something to do with its core. See, I never use thestral hairs in my wands, except for the one you are holding right now. It never seems to react well to the wood it was matched with. But somehow it bonded with the yew tree this wand was formed from. I do not know how, nor why, but it did. It is a similar situation as to why it chose you. This wand saw something in you that wasn't in any of the other witches or wizards that I tried it with. So I think it will be a powerful wand in your hands, though I doubt it will perform any magic in anyone else's."
"…Wow."
Ollivander proceeds to set about finding Harry's wand, making a mess of his shop in the process, while I ponder what he said. Something special in me? Like what, childhood trauma? I don't understand. There's absolutely nothing special about me, on the inside at least. I barely even know what I'm like, so how could my wand? No, I'm chalking this up to a lucky coincidence. Something special… Sure.
Finally, Harry is chosen by a Holly and Phoenix feather wand. Ollivander claims that this is interesting, because the core came from the same bird as the Dark Lord's wand core. I don't see how this can be helpful or hurtful, but it's cool that it happened.
Then we go back to the Leaky Cauldron, not quite ready to leave, but knowing we have to.
"I have to go back to the Ministry in five minutes," I sigh, staring at a clock on the wall. "I'm gonna need to wait in the here for someone to take me back there."
"Oh, alright. It was nice meeting you," Harry tells me, smiling. I smile back and wave as he and Hagrid walk through the door. I really don't know how I'm going to last a month waiting for school.