Rose opened her eyes blearily as the light filtered through the small window into her new room. Dust particles floated by, illuminated by the early morning sun. Stifling a small yawn, Rose tilted her head slightly, so that she could see out of the window to the secluded garden below. It took her a few moments to recognise it, unfamiliar as it was, but once she did, she smiled to herself. What a beautiful place it was.

Suddenly, breaking the silence of the scene, Rose heard some clanging coming from the room next door – Robin. What was he doing up, so early in the morning? Normally she couldn't get him to rise before ten. She should check on him.

A small tapping sound distracted her from her thoughts. She looked up to see an owl waiting outside the window, knocking on the glass with its beak, holding a copy of the Daily Prophet. Rose gently eased out of bed, covering her cotton nightgown with a warm, checked woollen robe. Next to her bed was a pair of toasty slippers that she also put on. With that done, she padded over to the window, putting her finger to her lips and silently shushing the owl, as though it would understand. It continued to tap, almost as if in defiance.

"Alright, alright," she murmured, opening the latch of the Tudor window. It opened outward, and the owl rustled indignantly as it repositioned itself. "Come in, come in, it's going to take me a while to find some change."

The owl, who clearly didn't appreciate the refreshing qualities of a crisp September morning in southern England, hopped inside, landing on Rose's mirror atop the dresser. She didn't seem to mind, as she hurried out into the landing and down the stairs to the coatrack, where she found some loose change in her pocket. As she returned to her room, she heard more thuds coming from Robin's room. What was he doing in there?

The owl's eyes lit up at the sight of the coins, and he held out his leg. Rose stowed the money into his little leather pouch. "There – happy?"

The owl clucked, and dropped her newspaper into her hand. Then, it flew away, back into the chilly autumn air. Rose closed the window behind it. She really needed her own owl, she thought lazily, as she opened the newspaper out to read the headlines. Very little had changed since she had left the country, she surmised quickly. The Ministry of Magic was still incompetent, only now it had Cornelius Fudge at the helm instead of Millicent Bagnold. Apparently he had made some guffaw at a recent meeting with the Gringotts Goblins and had caused some offence. That can't be good for the Galleon…

Another thump from Robin's room. That was it! She had to investigate. Setting the newspaper down on the dresser, she wandered over to her son's door. Then, knocking lightly, she said, "What on Earth are you doing in there?"

There was a small silence, and then, "…Nothing."

"May I come in?"

"I suppose," he said, after some hesitation. She did so, and was shocked to see that instead of unpacking his suitcase neatly into the wardrobe, Robin had instead strewn all his clothes across the room, with no apparent method to his madness. Robin himself was stood on the bed, in only his shirt and underpants. "I can explain."

"You'd better."

"I can't find my jeans."

Rose rolled her eyes. "They're in the wash – you got mud all over them playing quidditch with Fred and Ginny yesterday, remember?"

He smacked his palm into his forehead. "Of course. Ugh, I was going to wear those today…"

"It's okay, I'm sure you'll survive," Rose said dryly as she picked up a discarded pair of clean socks near the door and began balling them up to be put away. "Why didn't you ask me?"

Robin shrugged. "I didn't think you'd be up."

"Why are you up?"

"I dunno – just couldn't get back to sleep." He looked distracted as he took the newly balled socks from his mother and put them into one of his dresser draws. Rose couldn't help but smile at him.

"Well, I would guess that's because you're too excited."

He grinned. "Maybe."

She grinned too as she ruffled her hair. "Well, put on a different pair of trousers and clean this mess up, and then we can have breakfast, meet your aunt and uncle at the Burrow, and get to Diagon Alley nice and early. Sound good?"

Robin nodded, and then began frantically collecting his clothes from the floor. Rose decided to let him get on with it, and went to get dressed herself.

By the time she made it down to the kitchen, it was eight o'clock, and Robin had not yet finished tidying. Rubbing her eyes, which were still adjusting to being open, she set about making herself a cup of mint tea. Her dark black robes were thick, which she was thankful for, as she had only just lit the fire, and the air in the cottage was brisk. She blew into her hands to warm them up a tad as she waited for the kettle to boil, but was interrupted quite suddenly by a familiar voice.

"Rose! Over here!"

She jumped at the sound, but quickly realised who it was. "Molly, don't scare me like that!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but I didn't have time to drop by. I just wanted to let you know we're going to be late."

"Oh? What happened?"

Molly's disembodied head in the fireplace shot her a look that quite plainly said she wished that Rose hadn't asked. "Fred and George happened, that's what. They threw a quaffle inside the house, and knocked over the Floo powder. The whole room looks like a gnome sneezed on it."

Rose sniggered at the image as she poured out her cup of tea. "Oh dear."

"Quite. I'm making them clean it up by hand in punishment, but of course, that's going to take a while, so you might want to go without us…"

"That's alright," Rose said blithely as she fetched some eggs from the fridge. "You take your time. Perhaps Robin and I could meet you for lunch in Diagon Alley instead?"

Molly looked relieved. "Thank you, Rose. See you around one?"

"Sounds like a grand plan."

Her sister's head disappeared. Rose let out a huge sigh of relief. She would never have said so to Molly, but Rose had been dreading shopping for school supplies with them. Rose was not well-off per se, but she was decidedly comfortable, and with Robin's inheritance added into the mix, they were not exactly short of funds. The Weasleys, on the other hand, were running off fumes. Molly and Arthur would never say, but she knew that they found it mildly humiliating, and would not except any help from Rose, which only made her feel worse.

She settled into scrambling some eggs in butter, and heard at last the sound of her son descending the stairs. He was in a thick green jumper and corduroy trousers, a look that suited him.

"Ah, there you are! Could you put some toast on, please…?"

Robin dutifully headed over to the bread bin. "What happened to breakfast at the Burrow?"

"Your aunt and uncle had to cancel – we'll be having lunch with them instead. Have you got your letter ready?"

He reached into his pocket and produced an envelope of thick parchment, waving it around. "Yep! Ready when you are."

"Alrighty – we'll just eat this lot, and then we'll be off."

She was true to her word. No more than fifteen minutes later, they were bundling themselves into the fireplace, its flames now green as they licked around Robin and then Rose. Rose hated the Floo network – she was prone to motion sickness at the best of times – and was thankful when she spilled out onto the carpet of the back room at the Leaky Cauldron.

Old Tom the barkeep was passing through to refill the kegs, and spied them dusting themselves off.

"My goodness! Is that Rosaline Prewett?"

Rose, who was unused to hearing her full name, and who desperately hated attention, winced. "Morning, Tom."

He rushed over to her, beaming from ear to ear. "I haven't seen you in years! Is this…?"

"Robin, say hello to Tom."

"Hullo." Robin sent the old barkeep a timid smile, put off slightly by his grizzled appearance. Tom looked back equally warily, in the way most people did when they recognised Robin. Rose felt her temper flare up, and it took her a great deal of tact not to snap.

"Hello, young man." He tore his eyes away from her son long enough to flash her a more genuine smile. "Not one, but two old faces back on the scene I see!"

Rose blinked in confusion. "Oh really? Who's the other?"

But Tom simply tapped the side of his nose with his finger. "You'd best hurry and get to the bar to find out!"

He carried on his merry way. Rose frowned. "Well, we're going that way anyway I suppose…"

She shuffled Robin forwards, and the passed through the door into the bar itself – but there was no-one there that Rose recognised. Robin glanced up at her questioningly, but she simply shrugged.

"He's probably just losing his marbles…"

The two of them hurried into the back-alley, both of them eager to start the real activities of the day. Rose retrieved her wand from her purse.

"Now, if I remember rightly, it should be three up… two across…," Rose muttered, ignoring the way that Robin was shifting his weight from foot to foot in impatience. "Right, stand back my sweet…"

She tapped the wall three times with the point of her wand. Almost instantaneously, the bricks began to melt and fold away into the rest of the wall, revealing a large archway big enough for them both easily to pass through. Rose grinned as she turned to see the Robin, his mouth open slightly in shock.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley."

The archway disappeared behind them as they stepped onto the cobbled street. To Rose, the shops dotted around them were painfully familiar, but to Robin they were new and – judging by his expression – fascinating.

"What – where – how?" he managed eventually, as they began slowly to walk past the numerous little shops peaking out from old, beamed facades.

"Gringotts first."

"Gringotts?"

"A bank – look, just up ahead."

The snow-white building was indeed approaching them, and Robin was suitably impressed by how imposing it seemed. They entered the bank, only Robin looking around with surprise at the goblins as they flitted to and fro, carrying armfuls of jewels and heavy gold coins. Rose immediately approached the front desk, a forced smile plastered on her face. Though she'd never let Robin know, she found the goblins rather unnerving.

"Good morning," she said brightly to a free teller. "We've come to take some money out of the – uh – Black family vault."

She whispered the last part, and Robin frowned, straining his ears, though he couldn't hear. The goblin raised an eyebrow.

"You have the key, madam?"

"I have my wand, which is registered identification – is that sufficient?" The goblin nodded. "Excellent."

Rose handed over her wand to the goblin for inspection. The goblin retrieved a small silver key from a drawer and handed it to Rose along with her wand.

"There's your key, madam. We've been saving it for you since your husband's… departure."

Rose's eye twitched slightly and she swiftly pocketed it. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I've been otherwise engaged. Now it's school time, however, it seems right to dip into the, uh… family funds."

The goblin raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Very well. I will have someone take you down to the vaults. Bogrod!"

Robin wrinkled his nose at the sight of Bogrod, but quickly stopped after a swift kick to the shin from his mother. They followed the goblin on towards a door at the back of the hall. He led them through the door into the dark cave-like tunnels where the vaults were hidden. Robin hungrily took it all in as the three of them piled into a small cart. Even before the cart had begun hurtling down the dark tracks, Rose felt queasy – her knuckles were white as she grasped one hand onto the side of the cart and the other tightly on her son's arm.

"What's down there?" he yelled over the sound of the wheels screeching as he peered over the edge. He seemed to be treating it as some great roller coaster. Rose groaned and pulled him back.

"Nothing good!"

The cart pulled up at last and they clambered out, Rose looking distinctly worse for wear. Bogrod led them over to the Black vault, unlocking it swiftly and unleashing a small puff of green smoke. Robin looked quizzically at his mother.

"Protection charms," Rose whispered in response.

The Black family vault was just like any other vault in the bank, except a lot more imposing. Still, the door did not open with the key alone, and for a moment, Rose wondered if something had gone wrong. Bogrod turned to her.

"Password?"

For a split second, Rose wasn't sure if she could remember. After all, this was Walburga's vault – she and Sirius had originally had their own. Only after Walburga's death had the vault fallen to the next living male heir, which so happened to be Robin. She would have to make an educated guess.

With a deep breath, Rose walked up to the door and whispered "toujours pur" into the keyhole. She heard the familiar clicks of a door unlocking, and a small vault was unveiled, much to her relief. She couldn't tell how much money there was exactly, but there was certainly plenty, much more than in Sirius'. Robin stared around in awe as Rose confidently collected some money, clearly experienced in how much school supplies cost. Robin would probably have stayed for a little longer to stare at his family fortune had Rose not threatened to lock him in if he didn't get a move on.

"How come you never told me we had all that?" hissed Robin as Bogrod shut up the vault. "I could buy ten Nimbus 2000s with that!"

"Asked and answered," his mother responded dryly, pushing him forward after the goblin in the small of his back.

Rose did not like Diagon Alley particularly. It wasn't that the street, the most magical street in all of England, wasn't absolutely mystifying – it was, decidedly so. It just so happened that Rose had never been particularly in awe of it. Her first visit had been coloured by her brother's being in trouble for accidentally knocking over a jar of beetle eyes in the Apothecary. On her visit on the fourth year, she had wound up in Knockturn Alley by accident, and gotten into an altercation with a mean old wizard that her father almost hadn't turned up in time to save her from. And then, in her sixth year, her best friend had broken her heart at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Florean, feeling sorry for her, had given her an extra bowl of ice cream on the house, and her friends – especially James and Sirius – had called the ex-best friend all manner of bad names, insisting she could do much better, but nothing had helped. It wasn't so much the incident as it was the consequential embarrassment. She hadn't been back since, even after she and the friend had made up.

And yet, here she was, back for another year at Hogwarts, Robin by her side instead of the Marauders, and feeling incredibly ill from the cart ride.

"Right," she managed say, hoping her voice masked her queasiness. "What's next on the list?"

"I'm not sure, but should we start there?" said Robin, pointing Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions which was just a little way down the street.

"Good idea – listen, why don't you pop in there – I'm going to have a quick cup of coffee in the Leaky Cauldron."

Rose knew she should accompany him, but there was a strange churning sensation in her stomach distracting her. Perhaps a quick pick-me-up wouldn't be such a bad thing? She could certainly use a break from all the memories that were being dredged up from the back of her mind where she repressed them.

Robin rolled his eyes. "Fine. Can I please have my money then?"

"I think you mean my money, but yes. You can have exactly the right money for your robes," Rose replied sternly, handing over a few galleons. "And you promise you'll stay in the shop until I come and collect you?"

"Yeeeeessss…"

Rose smiled briefly before stopping as she supressed a rather large burp. "Excellent. Well, see you in a bit."

Rose wasn't sure what she was expecting to find when returned to Madam Malkin's fifteen minutes later, but two boys sitting on the doorstep, one of them her son sporting a bloodied nose, was not it.

"What on earth?" she cried, barely registering the other boy and running to her son. "What happened to you nose? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," muttered Robin, squirming beneath her vice grip on his shoulders. "Honestly, it's nothing."

"Nothing? You're bleeding!"

"You should see the other guy," said the boy next to him. Rose turned quickly to look at him and he immediately looked apologetic, though she did not notice. Her heart had stopped the moment she had laid eyes on him, and it took all of her energy not to faint. She was looking straight into the face of James.

Only it wasn't James – it couldn't be. And those eyes, they were all wrong. They weren't James' eyes at all: they were Lily's. It had to be – it could only be –

"Harry?"

The boy blinked in shock. "Um – yes – how did you…?"

Rose neglected to answer. She simply stared at the boy, muttering surely not under her breath. Robin eyed her warily.

"Uh, mum?"

She started, and gratefully shifted her gaze back to her son. "What? Sorry, the other guy? Were you in a fight?"

"Not much of a fight," said Robin, with a faint hint of pride that was painfully similar to his father. "He only got in one punch – just happened to have good aim. I definitely won."

"Won?" Rose whacked him on the shoulder, and he flinched, rubbing his arm sulkily.

"What was that for?"

"What do you think that was for? I can't believe you! I left you for a half hour and you're picking fights! What on earth possessed you?"

Robin crossed his arms in defiance. "You should have heard him, mum! He was saying all sorts of things about muggleborns… really nasty stuff!"

"Still," said Rose with as much authority as he could muster. She was still very shaken by the presence of Harry, and was deliberately refusing to look in his direction. "You shouldn't be fighting before you even get to school – or at school, for that matter…"

Rose was torn. She could tell by the righteous indignation in his eyes that Robin genuinely thought he was doing the right thing, and she was intensely reminded of a redheaded school friend of hers. He was generally such a gentle boy, he would only have done something like this under great duress. However, she still knew that it was not behaviour to be encouraged.

"It really wasn't his fault," said Harry quietly, making her look up. Rose regarded his bright green eyes for a few moments before concluding that he was sincere. She sighed.

"No more fighting, do you understand?"

For a second she thought Robin might argue, but then he relented and nodded.

"Good. That goes for you too, Harry."

Harry, who still had no idea who this strange woman was, or how she knew his name, nodded solemnly.

"Quite right. Now, let's fix your nose…" She reached into her pocket and produced her wand, pointing it square in Robin's face. "Episkey."

Robin let out a small cry as his nose snapped back into place.

"Scourgify."

The blood disappeared from his face. He breathed heavily for a few seconds before he looked up to something just behind his mother's left ear and screamed. "Argh!"

"Well now, that's not a nice way to greet someone, is it?"

It was a gruff voice, but friendly, and Rose recognised it immediately. "Hagrid?"

She spun around and came face to face with the giant, who beamed when he saw her. He looked the same as he always had: warm, inviting, and a little bit wild. "I don' believe it! Is that little Rosie Prewett?"

Rose turned quite pink at the use of her old nickname. Behind her, Robin let out a half snigger, half whimper, not quite having recovered from the sight of the Hogwarts gamekeeper. It was faintly amusing given the fact that Robin was quite used to giants, having spent his childhood around Madame Maxine. Something about Hagrid's mane of hair must have thrown him off.

Rose allowed Hagrid to envelop her in a huge hug, only slightly less crushing than Molly's. "Look at yeh, jus' like the day yeh left ter France!"

Knowing that she had acquired quite a few new wrinkles since then, Rose frowned into the giant's shoulder, but managed to squeak out, "You're looking well too, Hagrid!"

But Hagrid's attention had shifted as he dropped Rose to the ground. "And you!" he said happily to Robin, whose eyes widened. "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby, and look at you now! Yeh look jus' like yer –"

He stopped himself.

"Jus' like yer mum!"

There was an awkward silence. It was Harry who saw fit to break it with a pivotal question.

"Hagrid… who are these people?"

"Ah, sorry – Harry, this here is Madame Prewett, the new school nurse at Hogwarts, and her son."

Rose smiled at him as kindly as she could muster, but he did not smile back. He was watching her with slight suspicion, which she supposed was understandable.

"And… and how did you know my name."

"I keep tellin' yeh, Harry," said Hagrid loudly, coming to Rose's defence, "everyone in the wizarding world does! In't that right, Madame Prewett?"

"Yes, of course… I recognised you by your scar."

Harry didn't seem particularly convinced, but what was he going to say? Instead he just kept staring at Rose, with those eyes that bore straight into her soul.

"You saw Harry?" Arthur said in a low voice, eyes wide with interest as he leaned closer. It was an unnecessary caution; an argument had broken out that was so vicious between Percy and the twins at the other end of the table that no one could hear Rose and her brother-in-law.

Still, Rose glanced quickly at Molly to make sure she was distracted dealing with her sons before carrying on. "Yes. I let Robin buy his robes on his own while I recovered from the Gringotts cart ride, and when I came back, there they were together, broken noses and all… It was just like looking at James and…"

She trailed off, unable to say Sirius' name out loud. Arthur shook his head sadly.

"I completely forgot that he would be starting at Hogwarts this year."

"I hadn't," said Rose, her voice tense, "but I also hadn't expected to have to see him. I'm worried I unnerved him – I must have seemed quite strange."

"I'm sure he didn't notice," Arthur assured her, his voice soothing. "He'll have been introduced to plenty of people today, and every single one of them will have been overwhelmed meeting the famous Harry Potter."

Rose nodded absent-mindedly, but Arthur could tell that she didn't believe him. He sighed, staring into the bottom of his teacup.

"Does he seem well?" he said finally, looking up at last.

"A little timid, perhaps, but well enough…" She paused for a second, not sure whether to say anything more. Eventually, she found she could no longer contain herself. "He looks just like James – but with Lily's eyes."

Arthur smiled, not without pity. "We have to focus on the good things, Rose, when the bad things can't be changed. The fact that Harry is simply alive right now is in itself a small miracle. And you still have your own son, don't forget that. Lily and James would want you to make sure you cherish these moments with him."

A small moment of silence. In unison, Rose and her brother-in-law turned towards the havoc at the other end of the table, which was dying down slowly. Whatever the issue had been, Molly had dealt with it, and by the look she was shooting her husband, she would have appreciated a little help. In a few seconds, attention would be focused back on Rose, and their talk would be over. Arthur quickly turned back to his sister-in-law, but when he spoke it was hesitant.

"Rose… do you think it might be an idea to let him know…"

Arthur didn't specify who he meant, but Rose knew instantly. She blushed scarlet.

"Why should I? He's never made any attempt to ask about Harry, or Robin and I."

Arthur frowned. "He thinks he's doing what's best for you –"

"Well, he's wrong," Rose snapped. "And that's all I have to say about it."

Arthur seemed as though he wanted to argue the point more, but Molly had returned, and the moment was lost.

As soon as Rose had one foot in the door of Ollivander's, she felt uneasy. She hated this shop – Ollivander made her feel distinctly on edge – but she forced a bright smile as she gently pushed Robin forward into the room.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Robin jumped. His mother jumped too, though managed to keep her composure. Ollivander had arrived, overlooking them all with his eerie pale eyes.

Robin tilted his head with a jolt, his usual nonchalance lost in his unease. "Hullo."

"Ah," said Ollivander. "An unexpected visitor! I thought your family had relocated to France?"

"Plans changed," said Rose firmly, a protective arm circling around her son's shoulders. His usual independence had evaporated in the odd circumstances, and he shuffled back further into his mother's embrace.

Ollivander smiled. "Rosaline Prewett! How nice to see you again… Pine, fourteen and a half inches, supple, wasn't it?"

"You have quite the memory, sir," said Rose wryly.

"Though I suppose you don't use it often, eh?" he said curiously. She supposed she was a special case, but still, the way he was looking at her made her distinctly uncomfortable.

"More than I used to."

He watched her thoughtfully for a few moments before turning back to her son. "Well, now – Mr Prewett, let's start shall we? Let me see." Mr Ollivander pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

Robin waved with his right arm.

"Hold it out. That's it." Mr Ollivander measured Robin from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head. As he measured he said, "I remember your father too, Mr Prewett."

Robin's eyes widened in muffled glee – Rose's heart jumped to her throat. "Really?"

"Oh yes. I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Prewett. Ash, fourteen and a quarter inches, reasonably supple. Now, back to your wand. Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Prewett. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, phoenixes or dragons are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand. That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr Prewett. I think I've got a good grasp on you, because your parents are such dominant personalities, but I want to make sure…"

He put two long, thin boxes on the counter. "Two wands; I'm certain that one of them is for you. Try this one first: ash, unicorn hair core, thirteen inches, reasonably supple."

Robin picked it up gingerly, but immediately dropped it with a hissing noise. "It burned!"

"Clearly not," mused Ollivander, boxing the dropped wand away. "Try the other one. Exactly the same, but this time in beechwood."

With increased caution, Robin picked up the other wand. He smiled slowly, and although Rose couldn't see anything, she knew that her son would choose this one.

"Try moving it," said Ollivander. Robin moved the wand to the side, and small gold sparkles followed the tip. "Perfect. That will be seven Galleons."

Rose counted out seven gold coins as Ollivander went about wrapping. Robin seemed reluctant to see his wand packed away, but the joy was still evident on his face.

Rose sighed as she stretched out in her armchair, a frown etched onto her face. The fire was crackling merrily in the grate, but it did nothing to improve her mood. The day had been a bag of mixed emotions, that much was for certain. From meeting Harry, to buying wands, to that damned Gringotts cart, she had barely had a moments peace. But still, there was one moment in particular that weighing on her mind, and prevented her from following Robin up to bed.

Ever since her conversation with Arthur that afternoon, she had been unable to get a certain someone out of her head, no matter how many cups of tea she downed. Even switching to a small dash of firewhisky had not helped.

Rose ground her teeth as she stood up suddenly, and began to pace the length of her living room. What right was it of his to know how Harry was? He didn't deserve a letter, not after what he had said. She would never forgive him, never.

It was ten years ago now… Perhaps he regrets it?

If he did regret it, then why had he not said so? Why had he not written?

He did write! You threw his letter in the fire.

And quite right! Too little too late – he should be ashamed.

And so should you. He wasn't the only one to say deplorable things that night.

Rose knew the little voice inside her head was right, although she was loathed to admit it. For a moment she considered it, her hand resting on the writing desk next to the window. One small letter was all it would take to re-establish communication between the two of them…

She stowed her hand back in her pocket. Not tonight. With a flick of her wand, the fire was extinguished. It had been a long day, and what she needed now was a good night's rest.