The next few days are extremely productive. Harry ends up on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team after the first flying lesson, an impossible feat for a first year. And it's not like he's one of the Chasers or Beaters, he's the Seeker. The only one in his position. It's crazy!

It's dinner, the night I'm supposed to testify, when he tells me and Ron about it.

"You're joking," Ron says in surprise while my mouth drops open. "Seeker? But first years never – you must be the youngest house player in about – "

" – A century," Harry finishes for him. "Wood told me."

"Harry that's one hell of an accomplishment!" I tell him.

"I start training next week," Harry tells us. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Then the Weasley twins come over to us to congratulate Harry on his addition to the team. Immediately after they leave, less welcome guests arrive. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" Malfoy asks.

It's a pretty long story, but Malfoy's convinced that Harry is getting expelled. He got on his broom during flying lessons when he wasn't supposed too, even though he was going after Malfoy, who stole Neville's remembrall. Long story short, Harry wasn't punished but given a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Because, yes, he's just that good.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," Harry tells him calmly.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," Malfoy protests. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact." Harry seems confused. "What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," Ron lies. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Wow, they're making a much bigger deal out of this than they should. It's not like any of them could actually hurt each other. Maybe set off a couple sparks if they're lucky, but they're all first years. None of us actually know anything yet.

"Crabbe," Malfoy decides after sizing him and Goyle up. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

With that he walks away, leaving the three of us alone. Ron quickly explains what a wizard's duel is to Harry, adding that a second is someone to take over if he dies. Reassuring, really.

"Are you gonna come to watch?" Ron asks me.

"Er, no," I admit, stirring my soup without looking at either him or Harry. "I have a meeting with Dumbledore tonight."

"Why?"

"It's a… It's a long story," I say, avoiding the question. I should really tell them at some point… But not yet. Maybe at the end of the year. It's quiet for a moment. Seeing Hermione entering the Great Hall, I get up. "I have to go, Hermione and I are working on Charms homework together."

I know Harry and Ron are looking at me in confusion, but I refuse to look at back. I get that they're curious, but I can't tell them. I'm sure that Ron, at least, knows what my mother has done. He might not want to talk to me if he finds out. No, I can't tell them. I won't.

/

Okay, keep calm. Just keep calm.

As I walk to McGonagall's office, I can feel my heart beating in my chest. It's so fast that it's all I can hear, louder than my footsteps and louder than my frantic breathing. I can't do this. I was doing so well, adjusting to Hogwarts. Now they want to tear all that apart?

I'm standing outside her office now, but I just can't force myself to go in. Funny, how I'm supposed to be in Gryffindor when I can't even confront my own past. Oh, screw it. Let's just get this over with.

Before I lose what little courage I just built up, I rush into McGonagall's office. There she is, sitting at her desk, writing something that I can't see. As soon as the door opens she looks up and a sympathetic smile comes across her face.

"Hello, Rose," she greets me, getting out of her chair and walking up to me. "Are you prepared to do this?" Taking a deep, shuddery breath, I nod. To be completely honest, I don't trust myself to speak at the moment. "Alright, follow me."

She leads me down the maze of corridors in the school, neither of us talking the entire way. We come to a stop at a rather nasty looking gargoyle and I peer around. There's nothing here. No door, no room, nothing. I look at McGonagall in confusion, but she doesn't say anything to clear up the matter.

"Professor Dumbledore wanted me to warn you that some of the questions you will be asked will bring up extremely painful memories," she tells me quietly, unable to look me in the eye. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I don't really have a choice," I say. To my surprise, my voice sounds pretty steady. Hopefully I can keep this up the entire time. Oh, who am I kidding, that's not gonna happen. The moment they say anything about Mother, I'm gonna curl up in a blubbering heap.

"No, I suppose not," she agrees. McGonagall looks at the stone gargoyle next to us, then slowly says, "Chocolate Frog."

To my great surprise, the gargoyle moves aside to reveal a circular staircase, revolving and moving upwards. I guess the entrance to the office will be at the top of the staircase when it stops.

"Good luck," McGonagall tells me, before I step onto the staircase.

I'll need it.

/

Dumbledore's office is a circular room with many assorted objects in it. If I wasn't so terrified, I guess I would appreciate them much more. As it is, they don't catch my attention at all. What does, however, is the old wizard standing in the corner, holding a quill and a long piece of parchment. He must be here to record everything for the Wizengamot. The only other person in the room that I don't recognize is a short man with a green bowler hat. And, of course, there's Dumbledore, standing solemnly with a vial of a colorless potion in his hand.

"This is the girl?" asks the man in the bowler hat. He looks at his notes. "Rosaline Cambione?"

"Rosaline Laetus, actually," Dumbledore corrects him calmly. "She no longer goes by her mother's surname."

"Ah, of course," the man agrees, though when Dumbledore turns away, back to me, I can see his baffled look.

"Well, come in, Miss Laetus. Have a seat." Dumbledore gestures to the lone chair in the middle of the room. I walk to it, feeling myself shaking as I do so. Oh, I must look like such an idiot. I sink into the chair, clasping my hands together, then look up nervously at the man with the parchment. "Don't mind him," Dumbledore tells me. "He is only here to keep a record of your testimony. He won't be saying anything." My gaze turns to the man in the bowler hat instead. "This is Cornelius Fudge, the Minister For Magic." I nod in greeting, then look back at Dumbledore.

"Are we… Are we starting with that?" I ask, pointing at the vial. "That's the truth potion, right?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replies. He gives me the potion and I quickly drink it without giving myself time to think. It's tasteless and cool, like water. Seems like it would be easy to slip into anyone's glass without them noticing. Good to know.

"Alright, let's get on with it, then," Cornelius Fudge tells Dumbledore impatiently. "I have a lot of work to do back at the Ministry. The quicker this is done, the better."

"You were the one that volunteered to come, Cornelius," Dumbledore points out.

"Yes, well…" Fudge turns slightly pink. "I wanted to see the girl for myself."

"My name is Rosaline Laetus, not 'the girl,'" I blurt out, unable to contain myself. I can't tell if it's the truth potion talking or just me getting frustrated. "And please don't talk about me as if I'm not here." Fudge turns to me, surprised, but Dumbledore just smiles.

"It seems that Miss Laetus made her point before I could," Dumbledore says, sounding pleased. "But you're right, we should start." He turns to me. "Are you ready?"

"No, but I doubt I ever will be," I say, my voice shaking slightly. "I just want to get this over with."

"Then let's begin." He clears his throat. "Miss Rosaline Laetus, you have been called before the court to testify against your mother, Cynthia Cambione. Are you prepared to answer any and all questions the Court has for you?"

"Yes."

So Dumbledore's leading the entire thing? I thought Fudge would and Dumbledore just came for moral support. I guess this is better than a stranger asking the questions. At least he'll know which questions are harder for me to answer.

"Let's start with the basics," Dumbledore suggests. "Your mother has been accused of being a Death Eater. Did you ever notice anything in her behavior to support this claim?"

"Yes, every day," I admit. "She would often talk about her support of Voldemort's beliefs." I see Fudge cringe when I say his name, but I really don't care. My god, it's just a name! "Mother would often complain about his fall and the Death Eaters that wormed their way out of punishment. When she became really angry about it," No, no, Rose, don't, "she would take it out on me until she calmed down."

Damn it. This potion does a good job, I'll give it that.

"In what ways would she take it out on you?"

Uh oh.

"Torture. She mainly…" I can feel the lump in my throat beginning to form. That's not a good sign. "She mainly used the Cruciatus Curse in those instances, but beat me every now and then, too. Occasionally she would… She would pull out a set of knives."

"If I can't take my anger out on them, you will have to do as a substitute."

"Mother-"

"Crucio!"

"How often would she do this?"

"Every day."

Dumbledore lifts his eyebrows, but says nothing in response.

"Do you remember any names of Death Eaters that escaped punishment?"

"Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair…"

"All of which have been cleared by the Ministry of Magic," Fudge interrupts. Dumbledore gives him a warning look and the man falls silent.

"Did she ever plan to go out and hunt them down?"

That's a strange question.

"She planned a lot, but I doubt that she would have ever actually done anything. Sometimes… Well, sometimes she would demonstrate what she wanted to do to them… On me."

"Did she ever try to kill you?"

"If I see you wasting time ever again, I will not hesitate to kill you, you poor excuse of a girl!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was useful," I admit. "If I wasn't so good at cleaning the house for her and catering to her every need, I don't doubt that she would have. She threatened to a few times, but it was just motivation to keep me working, I think."

"What chores did you do around the house?"

"Everything. I scrubbed the floors, did the laundry, cooked meals, washed the dishes, made the bed…"

Have to keep going. Have to make it spotless.

"What was a normal day like for you when you lived with your mother? I apologize in advance if I interrupt with other questions."

"Oh, er, okay," I say. A normal day wasn't all that bad. I can handle this. Or try to, anyway "I woke up at about four in the morning every day, I think. That was when the door to my room was unlocked, anyway."

"And your room was a small broom closet, correct?"

"Yes. There wasn't any room for a bed or any furniture at all, so I slept on the stone floor instead. There were no windows, either, so I couldn't tell time based on the sun or moon. I'm a light sleeper, though, so the click of the lock woke me up. As soon as my eyes were open, I would prepare the house for Mother. First I swept the floor, which took up the most time since the house was so large, then I started dusting. At eight I would begin making breakfast for her and set the dining room table. She would come down at nine to eat and as she did, I ate my breakfast in my broom closet."

"What would you eat?"

"Usually just small portions of burnt porridge and water. Sometimes it was only water. Every now and then she would allow me to eat the stale bread from weeks before as a special treat." Dumbledore looks horrified, but I'm not done yet. Not even close. "Breakfast was usually moldy, but you have to understand that, for me, I had no choice but to eat it if I wanted to survive."

"Did you ever steal food from your mother?"

I gasp in horror at even the suggestion.

"Rosaline! There's a biscuit missing from my breakfast. Did you take it?"

"N-no, Mother."

"I don't believe you."

"I swear I didn't! Mother I swear!"

"You know what this means…"

"MOTHER, PLEASE!"

"CRUCIO!"

"Never," I whisper, my voice growing higher from effort to keep from crying. "I tried a few times, but she always caught me. Her punishments… It was never worth it. She would put me under the Cruciatus Curse until... Until I begged her to stop." I bite my lip. That lump in my throat is growing larger and larger as we go on. "Then she'd… She'd lock me in the closet for five days. No food, barely any water… But I had to get back to work immediately after she let me out or she'd do it again. Once I came out so weak that I almost fainted into the fire."

"What… What did you do after that?" Dumbledore asks. He sounds revolted.

"I kept working." He seems surprised, so I continue. "I had to. If I didn't…"

I take a deep breath and stare up at the ceiling to try to calm myself down, but it doesn't work. It actually has the opposite effect, and a tear falls out of my eye and trails down my cheek. I brush it away with a sniff.

"And what would you do after breakfast?" Dumbledore asks.

"M-mother usually left for work a-and I went back to cleaning the house. B-but she was always watching, even when she was away. I-I don't think she could hear anything, but if I messed something up, she knew about it when she came back. I made her b-bed after she left. It had to be p-perfect. No wrinkles, no messy edges. She always came back for lunch so I had to prepare that, too. I was n-never allowed lunch, there was no t-time for a useless meal. There was always j-just so much work." By now, tears are free falling down my face. "Then she'd go back and I'd continue with my work around the house. I-I sewed a lot in the afternoon. I made all her clothes. She d-didn't have the patience to hire someone else. I was g-given old rags to sew together for m-myself. After sewing, I made dinner. Mother c-came home and ate while I cleaned up. When she was finished, she would… She would…"

"You didn't clean the floors completely. I found at least two spots you missed."

"But I scrubbed it twice to make sure!"

"Well, clearly you didn't do a good job either time!"

"She would what?" Dumbledore asks gently.

"She w-would punish m-me for whatever I did that day," I cry. "Even if I was p-perfect, she would find s-something to punish me for. Mistakes were… Mistakes w-were not tolerated. It wasn't q-quick and easy, either. She d-drew it out until…" A soft sob comes from my mouth. "Until she felt satisfied. U-until I was so bruised and b-bloody, I couldn't get up from the f-floor!"

I bury my face in my hands, more sobs wracking my body. Too much, this is all too much. I can't do this, I can't continue. It's like I'm back there in her clutches. It's like… It's like I'm living it all over again.

"My God," Fudge's stunned whisper comes from next to Dumbledore.

"Rose, do you need to stop and take a break?" Dumbledore asks quietly. I shake my head, no. I have to do this. I have to get it over with. "If you're sure…"

"When she w-was done, she would go up t-to bed," I continue shakily, my voice coming out in barely more than a whisper. "I w-would eat, rotten fruit and spoiled milk, then I'd c-clean the dishes and prepare everything for the morning. If I… If I had extra time I-I would clean myself up and make sure I was okay, b-but that almost never happened. I h-had to be back in the closet at one or it w-would lock me out and set off an alarm. I had to hurry t-to make sure I finished everything before I had t-to go to sleep. It usually worked, but sometimes it didn't…"

"Why aren't you in the closet?"

"I'm sorry, Mother, I was cleaning the dishes and -"

"Shut up! No excuses!"

"I g-got about three hours of sleep most nights," I continue. "Sometimes t-two. I had no other time to s-sleep, so…" I sniff and wipe away the tears drowning my cheeks, even though more just come and replace them. "So I did the b-best I c-could. I took what I g-got, nothing more, but n-nothing less, either. That's… That's just how I had t-to survive." I want to stop there, but something forces me to go on, reveal the one thing I wanted to keep hidden. "I… I d-did think of ending it all, q-quite often towards the end, but I n-never had the c-courage to. And I g-guess that's… I guess that's g-good, because… Well, I ended up h-here, didn't I?"

I try to smile, but end up breaking down instead, sobbing into my hands. It's the only noise in the room, actually. Neither Dumbledore nor Fudge have anything to say about my story. I wonder if they were prepared to hear it. Maybe they thought it would be less violent, less horrifying than it really was. Maybe it's just harder for them to hear it in detail than to be told a vague outline. Either way, the two are speechless.

"Rose…" Dumbledore begins quietly, so I'm only barely able to hear it over my crying. "Did you ever consider running away? Or alerting anyone to your… situation?"

I shake my head, lifting it up a few inches away from my hands.

"If I r-ran away, Mother would've c-caught me. She w-was always watching, I had n-no chance," I explain, my voice shaking so hard that even I can barely understand what I'm saying. "And I c-couldn't tell anyone because I d-didn't know anyone. Mother refused to t-tell me anything about l-life outside the house. We had n-no visitors. There was no w-way out, until she got c-caught."

"And you'd be glad if she went to prison forever?"

I nod, unable to say anything through my sobs.

"I c-can't live if I'm afraid of her m-my entire life," I finally manage to say. He nods sympathetically.

"How did you feel when you lived with your mother?"

"How d-did I feel?" I ask, shaking. He nods. "I… I felt… Well, how d-do you think I felt? Happy? Hopeful? I d-didn't even know what those words m-meant, until I was rescued. B-but in there… Fear. I was a-always afraid. I w-was afraid of Mother, of what s-she would do to me, of when she w-would kill me, b-because I was sure she would eventually. I wasn't b-brave. I didn't risk p-punishment often. I was too… I was t-too afraid." What else? "Other than s-scared, I felt… I felt… Hopeless. L-like there was no p-point in doing anything, except to g-get away from the p-pain. There w-was no chance of escape or rescue, so why was I even t-trying?" I swallow, finding it much harder to force words out of my mouth now. "Every other emotion f-faded over time. I was t-turning into an unfeeling shell of a p-person. If I didn't get out… Well, I d-don't think I would've lasted m-much longer."

As soon as I'm done speaking, I bury my face in my hands again, unable to face any of the three men in the room. I can't do this anymore, I can't. It's too hard, too personal now. It's just too much. They're going in too deep. I look up at Dumbledore pleadingly and I think he understands exactly how I feel.

"Thank you for testifying, Miss Laetus," Dumbledore says, turning to Fudge and the recorder. "That will be all."

I continue to sob, but a warm feeling of relief floods through me. It's over. I never have to do this again. I can just lock that part of my life away and pretend it never happened. I can forget all about it.

"Dumbledore, are you sure we should end now?" Fudge asks.

"Yes," he replies. "All your questions have been answered, as you will find in the transcript, even the ones that were not asked. And I don't think Miss Laetus can go on much longer. I trust the two of you can find your way out of the castle?" Fudge and the other man nod. "Then thank you both for agreeing to do this privately. Have a good night."

The two exit the room, Fudge looking back at me curiously one more time, then they're gone. It's over.

"Rose, are you alright?" Dumbledore asks gently, coming and sitting on a trunk beside me. I nod, but both of us know I'm lying. The truth potion must have worn off by now. "It's all over now. You're safe. Nothing can hurt you, not here." I look up at him, still crying.

"If Mother escapes…"

"She won't," Dumbledore reassures me. "Nobody has broken out of Azkaban before, and I doubt your mother will break that streak." I nod, biting the insides of my cheeks to stop the tears. "Do you need to go down to the Hospital Wing? Madam Pomfrey will be more than happy to let you stay there for a while."

"No, I'm… I'll be okay," I tell him. I peer up at the clock. 11:00 on the dot. "I should… I should probably go back to Gryffindor Tower and go to bed. It's past curfew."

"If you think you're ready." Dumbledore stands and so do I. "I am very sorry about what you had to go through. If there's anything I can do for you, just tell me."

"Thank you, Professor." I smile in gratitude. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

And I go back out the door of Dumbledore's office, down the spiral steps, and out, away from the gargoyle. I'm not actually going back to Gryffindor Tower yet. Some people are still up, I bet, and I don't want them to see me like this, red eyed and still crying. No, they'll ask too many questions and I'm not up to any more tonight. Instead I set out in a random direction, needing to do something to take my mind off Mother.

Mother. I can still picture her face perfectly. Blue eyes, blonde hair pulled back into an elegant bun… Gorgeous, but terrifying. And when she yelled, with so much fury on her voice, I just knew that I was about to be in more pain than I could even imagine. And the way she would watch as I did the easiest tasks, waiting for me to screw up, for an opportunity to torture me even more.

I don't realize I'm sobbing again until a particularly loud one breaks me out of my thoughts. I give up, I have to sit down. I can't just keep walking forever. I'll wait until I stop crying, then I'll clean myself up and go back to Gryffindor Tower. But by the looks of it, that's not happening anytime soon.

Damn it Rose, think of something happy. Puppies, kittens, anything! But every time I even start to picture something remotely joyful, Mother's face pops up again and turns whatever happiness I have back into fear. My sobbing just becomes more and more hysterical instead of less, but there's nothing I can do. I give up. I can't stop it, there's no way. It's too late to go back and pretend it never happened. So, what do I do now?

Before I can decide on any course of action, two hushed voices echo from around the corner, laughing quietly.

"I can't wait to see her face tomorrow morning. Oh, it's gonna be great!"

The Weasley twins. Of course they'd be out past curfew.

"Wait, George, let's just check the map first," the one that must be Fred whispers. "I really don't want to get caught by Filch again."

"Good idea." There's the sound of unfolding paper. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The pair are quiet for a few seconds, then –

"Wait a second, George, look."

Pause.

"What? Why is she - ?"

"Beats me."

What's going on? What are they even looking at? I guess I'll find out in a few seconds, seeing as their footsteps are starting up again and coming towards me. I try to wipe my tearstained cheeks clean, but it's a useless attempt. I'm still crying.

The twins round the corner and spot me immediately. I guess they can tell that I'm crying, too, because they come hurrying over, worried looks on their faces. That's a new look for them.

"Rose, what's wrong?" one asks. I shake my head and bury into my pulled up knees.

"Hey, come on, it's okay," the other tells me. "You're okay. What happened?"

"Don't wanna… talk about it," I explain between sobs.

"That's alright, you don't have to." One of them pats my shoulder comfortingly. I think it's Fred, but I'm really not sure. "It wasn't a fat-headed bully, was it? We can take them down, if you want. Who is it?"

I smile, the crying slowing down at last.

"No, it wasn't a bully or anything," I explain. "It's… It's hard to explain."

"Try us."

"I really don't think I'm ready to talk about it." The twins nod. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, we get it."

"Got a younger sister. She cries all the time."

"Why?" I ask, curiously.

"No idea."

I grin. Not only have the sobs disappeared entirely since the twins got here, but the tears have slowed immensely, too.

"Have you tried asking her?" I ask, teasingly.

"Have we, George?" Fred asks.

"Don't think so," George replies, pretending to think. "Then again, we never want to get too close. She's crazy."

"Fair point," Fred agrees. I nod in understanding. "Come on, let's get back to the Common Room." He looks at me as if waiting for my confirmation of the plan.

"Okay," I agree after a moment.

The three of us set off through the maze of corridors, joking about Hogwarts and literally anything that the twins can think of. They are really working hard to cheer me up, for some reason. I don't understand. They barely know me, why would they stop and help me when I was just crying a bit? Okay, I'll admit it was more than a bit, but still. I don't think the kindness of others will ever cease to amaze me.

As we walk, the twins show me a map of Hogwarts that doesn't just show the outline of the school, but the people inside it, too. Most of the little name labels were in their dormitories, probably sleeping, but Filch is still wandering about, and Dumbledore is pacing in his office. I guess I gave him a lot to think about. I gave myself a lot to think about, too.

Finally we're back at the Tower, and, after the Fat Lady asks where we've been, she lets us inside. The Common Room is completely empty. It's past midnight now, of course it is. Everyone with any common sense at all is asleep. Clearly, I am not one of them.

"You should go to bed," Fred advises. "A nice, long sleep should help you feel better."

"Thank you," I tell him and George. "Really, thanks so much for stopping and helping me out."

"Well, hey," George starts. "We owed you from detention."

"Guess we're even, then," I offer. Fred snorts in laughter.

"Not even close," he claims. "No, we owe you a lifetime of servitude. But this'll do for now, I guess."

I laugh, then look at the stairs to the dormitories. Suddenly, sleep is sounding very appealing.

"Alright then, goodnight," I tell them. "Time for some much needed sleep."

"Gotta agree with you there," George says with a yawn.

"Night, Rose," Fred says as I head up the stairs to my bed. "See you tomorrow."

I change into my pajamas in barely two seconds, then climb into bed, still not used to the softness of the mattress and blankets. It will become normal, though. This is my life now. Mother can't ruin it anymore. I refuse to let her.

Still, as I drift off to sleep, she's there. She may be in the back of my mind, not immediately noticeable, but she's still watching, waiting. Finding the perfect time to strike back.