AUGUST 3RD, 1993 – LONDON, ENGLAND - HAMPSTEAD GARDEN
Rose Potter stepped onto the front steps of her new home lifting her gaze to take in the massive, eighteenth-century mansion as the driver closed the car door behind her. MACUSA and the Ministry had definitely spared no expense accommodating their lifestyle. She chuckled silently at the realization that if her life hadn't drastically changed at such a young age her home would have been here but in a very different house with an equally different lifestyle.
"Come, amor," her adoptive mother, Isabella, called out to her making her way to the double-fronted entrance.
Rose smiled at the beautiful, dark-haired woman and followed her in, they crossed the foyer into a vast reception hall and stopped at the winding marble staircase to survey their new home. Despite its outer appearance, the manor's interior was furnished and decorated in a modern and elegant contemporary style. She placed a hand on the banister, admiring the expensive mahogany and gold.
The Vegas had good taste, expensive taste, it was what they were used to.
Her adoptive father's family was an old, Spanish wizarding family that settled and financially prospered in Mexico by magically helping secure and protect lands during the Spanish colonization. As there was an absence of magical folk during that time, the Vegas married other wizards and witches who had come to the New World as well as members of ancient and magical indigenous tribes.
The family settled in California when the Spanish took over the region and remained there operating a successful vineyard during its time as Mexican territory under the law of the Mexican Magical Congress.
When the No-Majes from the United States took over the region, the Vegas, along with the entire magical community of California, were welcomed by MACUSA and the American wizarding world. However, they were also given the option to rejoin the Mexican wizarding community in their new territory. Many left however, the Vegas were among those who stayed.
The family remained in California for generations thereafter producing notable wizards and witches such as her own father, Rodrigo Vega; her late grandfather, Headmaster Joaquin Vega in the fifties; and her great-great-aunt, Head Auror Elena Vega, who in 1910 died saving the entire San Diego wizarding community from an attack by an army of Scourers.
Sometime in the thirties, the Vegas sold the family vineyard although the wine, famously known for years as De Vega Rojo, retained the family name and image. To this present day, the Vegas owned large shares in the massively successful wine company and, now and then, one of them would publicly endorse the beverage.
Despite their deep wizarding history, her adoptive father was a Half-Blood at best but so were most American wizards and witches due to the lack of Pureblood families and traditions in America.
Her adoptive mother, Isabella Cristina Vega, formerly de la Corte, came from a politically powerful wizarding family from Cartagena, Colombia. Her family had also originated from Spain and through the same means of magically aiding its colonization had secured great wealth and lands that were passed down for generations. Like Rodrigo, Isabella's family also wedded other European wizards and had roots in the ancient, magical tribes.
After the country gained independence, the De La Corte family helped form the first Colombian wizarding government which to this day they were still a part of and held large influence. Isabella too was a Half-Blood at best.
When Rose was adopted, her new parents were living in Manhattan as Rodrigo was Head Auror at MACUSA's Magical Law Enforcement. It was a very respectable and high-paying job and very soon, he was promoted to Head Of the Magical Law Enforcement Office. Accompanying the new title, however, also meant accepting the political and social responsibilities and obligations. Having always been handsome, charming, and respected, the future ambassador and his family were quickly accepted into the exclusive circle of New York's magical elite.
They finally moved to Los Angeles when Rodrigo ran for the state's wizarding representative. Rose could still clearly recall the campaign, the press, and how often her father was gone. Of course, she could never forget the numerous charity balls and social functions she had been forced to attend.
Each and every time she had to try to ignore the never-ending, bombardment of thoughts that sounded off in her head. There was no ignoring it although she tried her best. Still, nothing could stop it, and it was absolute torture and headache-inducing in large social settings particularly when she was sucked into their memories.
Still, she endured it and avoided eye contact for the sake of her education and her father's career. She supposed it had been a fair trade-off for she had loathed living in Manhattan, the cacophony never ceased. Therefore the gated Malibu home had been a haven. She had fallen in love with the beaches and the weather. The mountains, and the sunny, clear skies but most of all the acres of surrounding land that provided her with blissful silence.
Of course, that too ended when Rodrigo was appointed ambassador.
Now she was back in England.
She should feel at home or, at least, experience some type of emotional attachment toward the country but Rose felt nothing.
When her father had received his new position they all knew they would move to Europe. Her parents had given her the choices to decide which country they would set up residence in and whether she would continue at Ilvermorny or attend one of the magical European schools. It hadn't been a difficult decision, Rose picked her home country and Hogwarts. However, after the excitement wore off, there was nothing left but a feeling of impending dread for the unknown. When the airplane had begun preparing to land at Heathrow Airport earlier that day, Rose had immediately looked out the window to catch her first glimpse of the city. She had thought she would feel some connection or at least remember something but there had been nothing. It was a foreign place.
"What do you think?" asked Isabella, bringing her back from her thoughts.
Rose looked up at the staircase, "It's...big."
"But it's not too...flashy, is it?" Isabella asked in a Colombian accent that remained strong even after more than a decade of living in the States. Not that it really mattered to Rose, she could always understand her mother mentally and verbally.
The girl shook her head, "Not at all," she assured her, hearing the older witch's fear of appearing ostentatious which she considered tacky and of poor taste.
"Oh, good!" Isabella said with clear relief. "I was afraid people would think we are too high-maintenance."
Rose held back laughter as her mother continued, "It has everything you can think of! A beautiful sitting room, a ballroom, and a kitchen. An indoor, self-cleaning pool charmed to always be perfectly warm and a full gym. There's also a wine cellar and library! The servants and staff have their own separate little house on the grounds. The back gardens were just newly landscaped to make more space for privacy, do you want to go see?"
If Rose hadn't been raised by the Vegas she could have been awestruck by all the luxurious amenities but this had been her life for the majority of her existence. If truth be told, she enjoyed it as much as her wealthy adoptive parents.
"Can I go check out my room first?" she asked, keen on seeing her own private dwellings.
"Of course, carino!" answered Isabella giving her daughter a swift peck on the forehead before walking ahead into the large hallway. Her heels clacked loud as each hit the shiny, marble floor but her thoughts were clear as day to the young Legilimens. Isabella remained apprehensive about the move more so for the effect she feared it would have on Rose. However, she was also excited to see her husband, having missed him tremendously since his earlier departure.
Once her mother's thoughts had faded, Rose made her way upstairs to the second floor where the bedrooms were located stopping briefly on the first floor to take a peek at the library. She was not disappointed in the least bit. It was massive, far larger, and richer than the one in her old home back in California. Already she couldn't wait to curl up next to the fireplace come Yuletide break with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate. From the looks of it, it appeared as though her reading options contained both magical and non-magical titles. Rose didn't mind, she enjoyed No-Maj books particularly fiction., In fact, she enjoyed many things that came from the No-Maj world much to her inner friend's disapproval. Television, music, technology, and fashion. Amusement parks, cars, ballpoint pens, and the quick convenience of a phone call. She supposed her education in No-Maj culture and history, as well as the unspoken desire to have some connection to her first mother, had set this small fondness in motion.
Despite her appreciation of No-Maj inventions, the magical world was where she belonged, where she was safe, where her family was; both of them. If she focused hard enough on the few memories of her first family, she could feel the deep love she had held for them especially her uncles.
Uncle Sirius' handsome face was the sharpest in her memory so unlike the gaunt and sunken face in the papers. Uncle Remus never visited during the entire year they went into hiding so she could only recall light brown hair and the warmth she had felt around him. Uncle Peter's image was also fuzzy, his visits were infrequent and at night while she slept or pretended to. Late one night she saw him leave the house from her bedroom window, he had opened the front gate and turned to look back when he saw her. He had given her a rather chilling smile and waved which she had not returned. There had been something off about him that night but that was all she could remember prior to that Halloween night. There was also a fleeting memory of a beautiful, blonde woman that was her Aunt Marlene.
These people had been her family and now they were all gone. All that left was Harry, her aunt, Petunia, who she had no memories of, and Uncle Sirius.
Rose tried not to think too much of her godfather. She had been so sure that he can come to rescue her that night yet the Ministry officials had repeatedly insisted that his intentions were to kidnap her. Their minds had immediately wandered into images of sick acts that older men could do to little girls. She refused to believe that Uncle Sirius would ever harm her in any way especially like that or that he had betrayed her parents.
But that was the truth, wasn't it?
Rose had her unvoiced doubts.
The memories were so vague but she could remember hearing and feeling the pain that had tortured him at the sight of her parent's bodies as well as the relief he felt when he had found her and Harry alive. It was hard to believe that it had been nothing more than a very good act for a child's sake.
No, the emotions had been raw and genuine.
He had blamed Uncle Peter, called him a traitor, and had burned with the desire to kill him. It had shaken her having never felt anything so intense and hateful in her short life much less coming from her funny and loving godfather.
And he did kill him, right? Wasn't that the ultimate proof of his betrayal?
It was all so confusing!
Being so little she had obeyed Uncle Sirius and stayed put where he had left her before confronting Uncle Peter. She hadn't seen what had happened between them, her godfather had blocked her other uncle from view but the shouting that came from Uncle Peter could not be blocked.
He verbally accused him of being the traitor and Uncle Sirius had destroyed him before the other wizard could get his wand out leaving nothing but body parts behind.
Although she had eventually accepted the story the Ministry told her, Rose remained doubtful of the events that night.
She was, after all, the only witness.
Countless times she tried to remember whether there had been any thoughts from either of them that might have hinted at their upcoming betrayal but there were none that she could bring forth. Uncle Sirius had suddenly stopped visiting and Uncle Peter only came by at night while she slept.
She wished she could remember more of her uncles' thoughts that night. Plenty of it had been forgotten, a result of the cranial injury she had sustained but there were bits she could recall if she strained her memory hard enough. The times she had been successful it was usually accompanied by the terror she had felt.
Nothing could ever make her forget how frightened she had been when the Hit Wizards tore her away from her godfather, ruthlessly wrestling her from his arms as she tried desperately to cling onto him.
She had seen him again at the secret trial in the dark, cold dungeons of the Ministry. They had kept her outside the courtroom until she was called in to testify. The silencing charm they had placed on the room had worked to avoid eavesdropping but it had not stopped their thoughts from entering her mind.
Rose had heard everything.
Uncle Sirius had tried defending himself, standing firm on his innocence but had no proof to refute the charges.
They then brought their evidence against him.
They revealed his role as their Secret-Keeper.
They brought evidence of his families' involvement with the Dark Lord and their Pureblood supremacy.
Then she had been brought in and placed before the Wizengamot.
She remembered the stern and forbidding people in plum-colored robes staring down at her. There had also been two Patronuses that had stood on either side of where the group sat and the one that had appeared by Rose's side; a large eagle.
However, the image that Rose could never forget was that of her godfather bound, bloodied, and broken. Nor could she ever forget the fear when she saw the two Dementors standing guard behind him.
She had given her testimony and they had immediately dismissed it. Her word was not reliable they had concluded.
Too young.
Too traumatized.
Too gullible.
Too vulnerable.
Too confused.
She had cried out to her godfather as the Ministry escort carried her out of the courtroom. When their eyes had met, just before the doors closed, he had communicated one last thought.
'Forgive me, Rosie! Be brave!'
Rose shook the memories away before closing the library door and continued her way upstairs. It gave her a headache whenever she tried to unearth more forgotten details.
Once on the second floor, Rose located her bedroom as the one furthest from the master bedroom at the far end of the hall. The room held a large bed with a translucent, white canopy and was furnished with plush, cream carpeting, and violet-colored walls with decorative white borders. Perched on a large, white vanity that had a matching cushioned stool and dresser, slept Theodora, Rose's burgundy owl.
Rose went over and gave the owl a soft stroke on her head waking her from the slumber. Her large yellow eyes stared at Rose clearly offended at being woken up but then hooted contently at the sight of her.
"It's good to see you too," Rose remarked affectionately, stroking the bird's head once more. Theodora closed her eyes, enjoying the familiar touch of her owner who she had not seen in days as Rose's father had sent for their belongings prior to their arrival. Having received her fill of affection, the owl once more tucked her head under her wing and returned to her slumber.
Rose turned to examine the rest of the bedroom taking note of the private bathroom and the large balcony window that overlooked the green, wet gardens and dense forest. A working desk stood next to the bed below a shelf where four framed photographs had been arranged. Above it hung all the covers she had been featured in this summer, expertly framed and aligned beside the other. It was her parents ' doing but Rose didn't care. It made them happy and they were extremely proud of her accomplishments.
She approached the desk and peered into the four photographs one at a time. In the middle stood the largest frame that held a photo of Rose with her adoptive parents on vacation in Cartagena last Yuletide season; a trip they traditionally took each year. At the right end of the shelf, there was a group photo of her with the Ilvermorny Dueling team, and on the left one featuring the members of the Potions Club. There were no sentiments behind either of the two, framing them had been her parent's idea, although her teammates had been the closest she had ever come to having friends at Ilvermorny.
Outside of these extracurriculars, Rose had always kept to herself and focused on her studies. She had tried to make friends at first, she had certainly been approached by many as the Potter's story was legendary and there had been more than enough boys that had taken an interest in her. However, they had all soon found that she wasn't what they had expected.
She was considered an oddity. The girl with the annoying magical ability who had witnessed her parent's murder. She was quiet, reserved, and guarded but was there any other way to be when everyone's thoughts were laid out for her to hear? There were no hiding secrets, true intentions, or embarrassing thoughts around her. That is what had really repelled her peers away and, as such, she was generally left alone.
Rose didn't mind because she was never truly alone.
The voice that had comforted her the night her parent's died had never left. It had stayed just as promised and for a short time, it even appeared before her in the form of a little boy who, despite the young age, spoke with confidence and authority as well as held unlimited knowledge. It had been years, however, since his last appearance yet he matured with her nonetheless. Rose could tell by the way the voice became deeper and deeper each passing year. It was strange to have a second person, much more a boy, living inside your mind but she had become accustomed to it long ago. While Rose did agree with the psychological fact that seeing apparitions and hearing voices no one else could hear was a cause for concern, she would rather hide it than return to the mind Healers. She had hated every second of it so she learned how to conceal the voice because he had kept true to his word.
Ever since that Halloween night, he had been carefully guiding her, providing answers and advice whenever needed even teaching her about her power and how to perform wandless magic. As a child it was simple things like levitating a rock, changing a garden rose from red to silver, or opening her windows without ever leaving her bed. As she got older she learned how to summon objects, light a fire, and about curses, jinxes, and as well as dueling techniques.
Broaden your stance, He would instruct. You must study your opponent first. Never throw the first curse and never take your eyes off them.
You're a natural, Rose! He would then praise her after their secret practices and the hard work had certainly paid off when she had made it on the school's dueling team.
Perhaps the most important lesson he had ever given her was on how to have some kind of control over her Legilimency. Granted, Rose was far away from ever enjoying the bliss of a silent mind but she at least knew how to tune out the endless mental chatter of those around her as well as zero in on specific minds without detection.
He couldn't be bad, she was a top student, exceeding in all subjects with an impeccable school record. Despite her social reservations, she spoke politely when necessary and behaved respectfully toward elders and authority figures.
Her public image was pristine just as a politician's daughter should be.
As the youngest Youth Dueling Championship finalist in years, she was considered a role model to little witches.
Her tragic back story brought forth tears and sympathy from audiences which made her success and accomplishments all the more inspiring.
While the two magical incidents the voice had created had been destructive Rose wouldn't have accomplished what she had without his guidance. It concealed nothing from her, never lied to her, helped her control her emotions, advised her, and always supported her ambitions without any judgment. Surely there was no harm if it did more good than it had ever done harm.
Besides, who could say if it was truly insanity and not a part of her own Legilimency that had activated and taken on a persona by some magical trigger that night. It could very well have been the head injury that animated her power.
Whatever it was, Rose had stopped trying to make sense of it long ago, there wasn't enough research on natural-born Legilimens to prove her theory nor dismiss it. Regardless she was content to have this guide as her friend as evident by her lack of real-life friendships that she had long given up on.
However, things needed to be different at Hogwarts, on that both were in agreement. This was her opportunity to start fresh and strong. Although she felt no emotional connection, Hogwarts was her home and she would not be outcasted in her own home, not this time.
For generations, every Potter had attended Hogwarts therefore it was her birthright. She did have worries, this was a British boarding school where blood status still mattered. Despite being a Half-Blood and English, Rose had long ago adjusted to the American and Latin American traditions of the Vegas and America's more democratic wizarding ways. Even her English accent had vanished long ago. She was an American witch now and she feared the difficulty of adjusting to this world. It had been so many years, what if she was looked down on for her Half-blood heritage? What if her power repelled her new peers? The O.W.L.'s were this year too and that alone was stressful enough.
There, of course, were other worries.
Uncle Sirius had broken out of Azkaban. Word had it that he was after Harry but would he come to find her too as he had promised?
Where was Uncle Remus? He hadn't been among the dead or missing recorded from the First War and Rose could faintly recall Uncle Sirius saying they would go find him on that night. If he was alive as Rose suspected, why hadn't he tried to find her or even bothered to write? Would she ever see him again? Surely he would have heard or read by now of her arrival.
Her biggest worry, however, was her brother, Harry.
What if they were too different to get along?
She looked over at the fourth and final photograph next to the one of the Vegas. It was smaller, old, and worn in comparison but held the most value. A small smile formed on her lips as she looked at the beautiful, redheaded young woman carrying a baby to her chest and at the handsome, dark-haired young man with glasses who balanced a smiling, little redheaded girl on his shoulders. It was the only photograph she had of her former life and it was given to her by the Ministry adoption agent during her transfer to the States. Very vaguely, she remembered snippets of the day the photo was taken. They had gone to Muggle London with Uncle Sirius and Aunt Marlene. She could hazily recall the cool weather that day and the sounds of wandering No-Maj tourists and children.
They're called Muggles here, corrected the voice in her mind in the refined British accent he had never lost.
'Right, Muggles.' She thought her own mental voice as American as her real one.
It was such a funny word but it was what she would have called them had she never left; had her parents never died.
The Vegas would always be her parents but there wasn't a day that went by where Rose didn't miss her birth parents. When she didn't think of how different life would have turned out had they lived.
She looked into their smiling faces unable to recall any details of them. All she had were fleeting glimpses of small moments together, she couldn't even recall what their voices had sounded like.
'They were so young. We looked so happy together.' She thought longingly.
In spite of her wealthy and loving upbringing with the Vegas, Rose couldn't help but feel angry at what she had been robbed of. They had all gone into hiding during the war only to be betrayed by their own friend. The price had been their lives and Rose had been condemned to witness their murders firsthand. After that fateful night, the Ministry had originally reached out to her next of kin, the Dursleys. They implored them to take her in as well since the Ministry did not want to take responsibility for an orphan who had a power they couldn't understand or control. However, Rose's remaining family turned her away stating they would only take Harry because they had no other choice leaving the Ministry no option but to place her for adoption.
None of this had been shared with Rose but with the aid of her power, nothing could be kept from her.
During the trials that followed the war and the adoption process, Rose had been kept in the Ministry inside a heavily spell-secured ward in order to testify at Uncle Sirius' secret trial. The Ministry was eager to move the adoption quickly and, immediately upon dismissing her testimony and sentencing Uncle Sirius to life in Azkaban, a suitable American family was selected. Before she knew it, she was sent away to America.
It had been twelve years.
Twelve fucking years!
But she was back now and she had many questions desperately needing answers.
There were so many worries, doubts, and even fears but with her growing power and the guidance in her head, Rose would find a way to succeed.
She was back where it had all started.
Rose was finally home.