A/N: Okay, this chapter was tons of fun to write, mostly because of her interrogation. I have big plans for this story! I enjoy writing drama, haha. Leave a review; tell me what you think! Criticism is always welcomed wholeheartedly. Thank you!

Chapter 16

The interrogation of Rosalie Flint, main witness

Auror Nehemiah Brocknard: Hello, Miss Flint. How are you doing this evening?

Rosalie Flint: Considering the circumstances, sir, not very well.

Brocknard: Indeed. I'd like to ask you a few questions.

Flint: Why? I've already told you guys everything I know.

Brocknard: Just standard procedure, ma'am.

Flint: Fine. Go ahead.

Brocknard: What were you doing before you discovered Lily Potter?

Flint: I was lost, somewhere in Knockturn Alley.

Brocknard: Why were you wandering around Knockturn Alley in the first place?

Flint: Uh... I wasn't shopping, if that's what you're wondering.

Brocknard: What were you doing?

Flint: I was actually, erm, hiding.

Brocknard: Hiding? From who?

Flint: My boyfriend.

Brocknard: I see. Who is your boyfriend?

Flint: He has nothing to do with this, sir.

Brocknard: Of course. How did you discover Lily Potter?

Flint: I heard her arguing with the offender.

Brocknard: What did you do when you heard her and the suspect talking?

Flint: They weren't talking sir, and he isn't just a suspect! He's guilty!

Brocknard: Answer the question, ma'am!

Flint: I ran towards them. It was obvious that he was planning to attack her.

Brocknard: And then what did you do?

Flint: I found them in a tight alley. He had cornered her and when I found them, he didn't notice me. He was using the Cruciatus Curse on her.

Brocknard: How did you react?

Flint: I used magic to tie him up and knock him out.

Brocknard: Is this the man you saw supposedly torturing Lily Potter?

Flint: I'm sure he was torturing her, sir. And you already have the man in custody! Why do you need me to identify him?

Brocknard: So this is the man?

Flint: Yes.

Brocknard: Do you know who he is?

Flint: No- wait. I think I've seen his face before.

Brocknard: Where?

Flint: On a wanted poster or in the Daily Prophet.

Brocknard: This is Antonin Dolohov, former Death Eater and one of the most-wanted criminals by the Ministry of Magic.

Flint: Yup. I recognize him now.

Brocknard: You seem very calm, knowing that you basically beat him in a duel. He did, after all, work for the Dark Lord.

Flint: Um, okay?

Brocknard: Did you converse with him at all?

Flint: I told him that torturing little girls wasn't approved by the Ministry. That's all.

Brocknard: What happened after you knocked him out?

Flint: I summoned the Ministry and took Lily Potter to St. Mungo's.

Brocknard: That's all that happened?

Flint: Yes.

Brocknard: Very well, Miss Flint. Your parents are waiting for you in the main lobby. You're free to go.

Flint: What are you going to do with Antonin Dolohov?

Brocknard: Why do you care?

Flint: Because, Nehemiah, I don't really fancy having ex-Death Eaters chasing after me or the Potters, especially if he's comfortable with using Unforgivables. You know what? It seems to me that you're trying to pinpoint this crime on me!

Brocknard: Miss Flint, you can go now.

"So, are you saying you agreed to testify against Dolohov? In court?" Father bellowed furiously.

"Of course I did!" I retorted. "He was using the Cruciatus Curse on Lily Potter, and he's a wanted criminal! He needs to be locked up in Azkaban!"

"You should've consulted with your mother and I first!" he yelled.

"You would've said no," I told him, crossing my arms uncomfortably.

He wiped his hand over his burning face, a scowl etched on his hard features. Mother stood next to him, face still and passive in a silent rage, her eyes watching me with animosity. Mariette was tucked away in the love seat, wrapped in a blanket and Marcus was trying to calm down Father, though his attempts were futile.

"Father-" Marcus started, eyes glancing at me.

"You should have let Antonin Dolohov finish her off," he said coldly.

"What?" I shouted. "Lily Potter did not deserve to die by his filthy hand! I would have never let that happened!"

"Do not talk back! Your foolish acts make this family a target!"

I said, "No; they make me a target! It's not like any of you care anyway!"

"The Potters are notorious blood traitors!" he continued loudly and irately. "You've tainted the family's name!"

"You're just afraid that you'll be ridiculed by your pathetic, pure-blooded maniac friends and are trying to save your sorry asses-"

His hand made a sharp and angry slap against my cheek, his dark eyes glaring at me. Instantly, my cheek began to burn and blood began to trickle from where his rings had collided into my flesh. I brouught my fingers to my face, frown growing deeper and a snarl escaping my lips.

"I'm leaving. I can't stand you dimwitted, insolent fools," I told them miserably. "I'm going to walk out that door and I'm not going to come back for a long time. I'm going to testify against Antonin Dolohov. And you are not going to stop me."

"If you walk out of that door, Rosalie, we will not allow you back in! We will disowned you!" Father barked as I faced the front door.

Clenching my fists, I said slowly, "See if I care."

In only a half an hour, I had packed up my Hogwarts trunk full of clothes, money, and other things and was stranded on the sidewalk, two miles away from my home. I pulled my coat closer to me as wet snow fell in big clumps from the dark, starless sky.

I had no where to go. I couldn't use magic outside of Hogwarts without getting expelled and that couldn't happen. I had no real friends to crash with, besides Blake, but he was in Canada, visiting some cousins for the hols.

Taking a seat on the chilly, cement curb, I folded my hands in the lap and stared at the snow. With no where to take refuge, I was left alone for the night.

Twenty minutes passed before any signs of life appeared.

Standing quickly when a large vehicle flared it's headlights, I backed onto the sidewalk, only to stumble when the huge purple bus came to a stop in front of me. A shaggy man wearing a blue uniform and a torn conductor's cap appeared, his eyes scanning a small sheet of paper.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, I will be your conductor for this evening," he droned, boredly looking up from the paper. "What's 'appened to your face?"

"What- oh, that," I muttered, reaching up and touching the swelling bruise and bloody cut. "Nothing."

"Well then, if it's nothing then come on! Get on the bus," he said, beckoning me to board to shady-looking bus. I had a feeling that somewhere along the ride, it was going to break down or we were going to crash from break failure.

"Okay, Stan," I grumbled. "Be a man and get my trunk. I'm tired." I stepped up and onto the bus, looking around at the seemingly unstable beds that held beat-up, elderly wizards with missing toes and teeth. A giant chandelier hung from the ceiling of the bus, trembling as the engine of the bus rumbled.

Stan Shunpike finally got my trunk onto the bus. He printed out a ticket for me, waving it expectantly. The bus roared and took off with a stomach-churning jolt. A severed head, hanging from the mirror, started talking nonsense and I took a seat on one of the beds, my cheek hot and my head hurting. I made sure to also pay Stan for my sudden trip to the Leaky Cauldron.

It wasn't the first time I had ridden the Knight Bus. Once, when I was 12, I got lost in a Muggle community with no way of getting home. The bus had come to pick me up and Lish the House-Elf had come and pick me up at the London pub. Father and Mother had been furious with me and Mariette never let me live it down.

The seriousness of the situation fell down on me like a stone boulder. If what Father said was true, I would be disowned certainly by tomorrow. Where would I go, then? I had my vault at Gringotts with my life's savings in it, that would surely hold me up for a while. But it didn't have a lot of money in it, like the family's vault did. Father was smart enough, though, to contact the Gringotts and forbid me from opening their vault. He he did truly disown me, I hoped they would at least have the courtesy to give me a small sum of money.

Was I really going to be disowned?

My heart was heavy as I reminded myself to breathe.

Disowned. Excommunicated. Banished from my own household.

Maybe this was what I needed. Maybe this was my chance at a fresh start, a new beginning, like James said.

I wasn't holding my breath.

It was nearly 10 o'clock at night when I arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, pub and inn. How may I help you?" squeaked the tiny lady from behind the counter. She was wearing a standard pin-stripped suit and her greasy hair was pulled into a tight bun. Her huge front teeth peeked out from in between her hairy lips.

"I'd like to book a room for the night-," I began, but I was interrupted by a certain Jemima Applebottom.

"Miss Rosalie, baby. What's you be doin' here this late?" she asked.

"Hey, Jemima. I'm just booking a room for the night," I answered sheepishly. The woman from behind the reception desk - her name tag read Hello, My Name Is Ferga Fungus - watched us converse with beady black eyes.

"Why?" she persisted.

I mumbled, looking down at my hands, "I just need a place to crash."

She bustled over to the desk, her graying hair tousled and falling loosely out of her ponytail from a hard day of work. "Hun, is somethin' wrong?"

I honestly wasn't in the mood to chat with her about my problems, so I waved it off. "No, no. I'm just renovating my room. I'm booking the room for me and my mother; she'll be here in an hour or so."

She looked at me warily. "Alright, Miss. But if you need to talk to me or come over to my flat, just give me a ring." She used her wand to sketch the number on to an old receipt.

"Thanks," I said.

Jemima nodded. "Alright, Ferga, I'm heading home for the weekend. Happy Christmas!"

"Right," the ugly lady drawled, then turned back to me. "So, about that room."

"Yeah, I need a room with one bed. That's all."

"You and your mother sleep in the same bed?" she quirked slowly.

"Just give me the damn keys, Ferga."

The next morning, I woke up in a strange bed. I wasn't in my bedroom, I was inside some dingy, moldy room with cold blankets and stained sheets. This wasn't my house.

And then I remembered the events of yesterday. My world came crashing down around me and my jaw went slack. My head started hurting from the impact of the memories and my lungs began to hurt from the forceful breaths I was taking.

Slipping out of the gray covers, I walked around the room, panicking.

"Oh, Merlin's fucking knickers! I'm going to be disowned!" I whispered to myself under my breath. My heart was beating fiercely. My eyes were clenched intensely. "Merry Christmas to me," I said sarcastically.

Two hours later, I found myself stumbling down Diagon Alley hopelessly, straying away from Gringotts glumly. Not only had my parents banned me from the family vault, but they hadn't been generous enough to add enough money to my account. The transaction had been issued, but not completed. I was abandoned with a small amount of money to live off of. Sixteen and already searching for a place to live.

Bloody fantastic.

Diagon Alley was mainly closed, since it was the afternoon of Christmas Eve. Some shops were still open in hopes of finding a few last minute shoppers, but the employees behind the counters looked utterly miserable, probably wishing they could be at home with their loved ones.

I returned to the Leaky Cauldron, carefully avoiding any human contact. I walked up the creaky stairs to my rented room, locking and bolting the door behind me.

A tapping on the window made me jump, but I threw it open carelessly and an owl flew in. The tawny bird perched itself on my bedpost, holding an elegant envelope with my name clearly scrawled on the front in gold ink. Inside was a green and red card with a handwritten message and a picture.

Dear Rosalie,

We wish you the happiest Christmas, and offer you a most sincere thank you for saving Lily and agreeing to testify against Dolohov in court. We are forever in your debt.

Truly, Harry, Ginny, James, Albus, and Lily

The picture slid into my hand and I stared at the colorful Potters, decked out in Santa hats and elf ears. They smiled at me as the hugged each other and waved at the camera joyfully.

I slumped against the wall, falling onto the ground with a thud. My trembling hand covered my mouth as I stared at the picture, a weird feeling erupting in the pit of my stomach. Nobody had ever sent me a personal Christmas card before. Each name was signed personally. James' signature was his usual, messy handwriting, Albus' a beautiful cursive, and Lily's with a heart over the 'I' instead of dot.

It took a while for me to realize I was crying. Why was I crying? Sobs racked my chest as I stared, confused, at the greeting card with teary hazel eyes.