October air swooped through the windows and doors, filling the castle with a bitter cold only the hearty fire in the common room could remedy. Gryffindors piled themselves onto the squashy armchairs and grand sofas to exchange shocking rumors and rare chocolate frog cards. The first Quidditch match of the season was upon them, so naturally, animosity between the lions and their badger competitors peaked.

It became practice for most students to wear sweaters and scarves to breakfast. No student could walk through the corridors without the sound of teeth chattering wherever one went. In fact, the only people of Hogwarts who didn't seem to mind the cold were students of Slytherin House, as Rose Weasley kindly pointed out one afternoon to her cousin and his best mate.

"How do you stand it, walking around like it summertime beneath your robes?"

"You're exaggerating a bit, Rose, I'm only wearing short sleeves," explained Albus at lunch over a turkey sandwich.

"Besides ginger, if you think this is cold then you wouldn't last two minutes in our common room," Scorpius said, "Under the lake, you see."

"No sunlight in the snake hole," said his best mate, grinning.

"Then I'm glad I don't sleep in the snake hole," Rose sneered, eyeing her cousin, "sounds like not a very pleasant place."

Scorpius answered next. "It's a very pleasant place, Weasley, you can't insult anywhere you've never been to."

"Well maybe I don't want to go there!"

"Good, no one wants you there anyways!" retorted the Malfoy.

"Hey guys, break it up," said Albus, not content seeing two of his favorite people bickering.

"Sorry," they each whispered to Al, but not to each other.

That night, seeking solitude, Rose retreated to the library. She took her inconvenient route all the way through the Grand Staircase to the second floor. On arrival, she noticed there were less prefects monitoring the floor than usual. The reason for this became clear when she saw the shortcut from the second floor to the sixth was no longer blocked. Presumably, staff must have repaired the wall and set up stronger defenses for the ancient tunnel Rose herself had ventured in. Upon completing her work, she turned left out of the library, taking her old shortcut to the common room and became altogether surprised to find company half way up the flight in the form of a painted man hung upon the wall.

"Hello miss!" called the portrait, instantly frightening Rose who presumed she was alone.

"Uhm, hi," she answered, pausing to look at the portrait where a gaping hole once was. The painted man appeared haughty and fierce; his bright eyes contrasted the dark backdrop.

"Good evening, I am Lord Ritter, once the noble advisor to my kingdom, and now a strong guardian of treasure troves. But worry not, kind lady, for none can hope to pass without a word of entry!"

"And I suppose you don't just hand out words of entry to just anyone, do you?" she laughed, finding his arrogance somewhat humorous.

"Aye, no, only Madame McGonagall and her commands know the word, and perhaps any cunning genius to answer my riddles!"

"Any cunning genius?" she asked skeptically, thinking of her manipulative cousin, James.

"Any cunning genius wise enough to answer many successive riddles, yes. But away with you, young girl, for I do not appreciate your obvious skepticism. You shall never gain entry!"

Bemused, yet amused, Rose tucked her books to her chest and head off to bed, thinking Lord Ritter was off his rocker. She had no desire to ever get caught in that tunnel nor to explore it a second time.

The next morning, Rose was awoken by Emilia Bradley, screaming in her sleep that she'd forgotten the Fat Lady's password but she needed to get inside for her next lesson's textbook. It might have been funny if it weren't daybreak. Unable to turn back over to fall asleep, she slipped into her robes, yawning, and tiptoed downstairs to the common room. Rose realized after settling onto the largest sofa that she wasn't the only one of her dorm mates unable to get back to bed - Kayleigh had joined her.

"Hello, Rose," she said quietly, and Rose greeted her in return, "Did you finish your Potions essay?"

"No, did you?"

"Hardly, I don't even know what a boomslang is, how am I supposed to know what it's skin does when 'brewed delicately'?"

Rose laughed. "I think it's used a lot in transfiguring potions," she said slowly, "like the Polyjuice. I mean I don't think it has healing properties or anything like that."

"Thank you, maybe I'll have something to go off of now."

"Yeah, don't mention it," she paused, "So has your mom written any?"

Kayleigh frowned. "Well, no. But I wasn't expecting her to."

"I'm sorry," she answered quickly, guilty for bringing it up at all.

"You act like it's a big deal," whispered Kayleigh, "But it doesn't even upset me anymore, I'm so used to being ignored, you see. If anything, I'm angry that she doesn't care."

"Care about what?"

"Just me. I'm sure if I were hurt or dying or something drastic she would care, yes. But other than that, anything having to do with me it seems she'd be better without. My school, my friends, the things I like to do... they don't really mean anything to her."

"Maybe you should write to her," Rose suggested.

"No, there's no reason for me to make effort if she won't. I'm happier here, away from her. I'll probably stay at Hogwarts for Christmas."

"You could come to my house," she said without thinking, and watched as her friend's eyes lit up.

"You think so?"

"Well, I'd have to ask my parents, but it'd probably be okay." But Christmas was months away, Halloween hadn't even come yet. Changing the subject before making anything absolute, Rose asked, "Are you sure your mum isn't just busy with something, and that's why she won't write? Perhaps there's something else going on at home," but she immediately regretted this, as her friend's smile faded again and Kayleigh turned her head as if embarrassed, unable to look Rose in the eye.

"Well, my dad's sick," she said in a small voice, "They don't know if he'll make it."

"W-what?" she stuttered, horrified, "Can't the Healers do anything about it?"

"He's a Muggle, so doctors treat him, not Healers," Kayleigh corrected, still whispering, "And no. They say he has a chance, but... not a good one. Sometimes Death wins."

And Rose spent the rest of the week trying to put herself in Kayleigh's shoes, trying to imagine how she must feel, but it was impossible. The last tragedy known to the Weasley family was the death of Rose's uncle, Fred - and that was about eight years before Rose's birth. She was always loved by Ron and Hermione, surrounded by fun cousins, playing with Hugo as a younger child, and Rose has never felt loneliness... abandonment, neglect, or fear for a loved one's life. Death was something that happened in the dark days of Lord Voldemort, when there was war in the past, but not today... not the future. But no, Death still plagues many innocent lives without the help of murderers. He is a selfish being who steals people that don't deserve death. Hardly anyone deserves it, and until now Rose never really understood that one did not have to be an adult to experience death - that not everybody's parents die peacefully of old age... that sometimes, life (and Death) isn't fair.

Hi again, I'm sorry if that chapter seemed a bit short, but I've already started Chapter Eight, so it shouldn't take long for an update! More of the New Marauders in the next chapter :D Anyways, please review and let me know what you think so far for sure. I definitely have strong feelings about the words in the last paragraph. Innocence will certainly be a theme of the story for many more of Rose's years to come. Thank you so much for reading, all of you!