Chapter Three Part 1: Her Hogwarts Year: 1994
A/N: Since summer just started, I'll probably have more time to write! Also if y'all are interested:
playlist/2HBjw5LgTdoBPRJf0gZNTW?si=cb6156a191b94f29
The playlist I have inspired for Rosie. It's usually what helps me get in the mood to write about her.
Day one of the Triwizard Tournament. Task number one. Rosie was all bundled up in her warm winter coat and water-proof mittens, her scarf wrapped around her neck. She was sitting in the stands with Daphne and Tiffany beside her. The first task was yet to begin.
"It's so goddamn cold out here," Daphne shivered.
"I told you so," Tiffany said, "It literally just snowed."
"I still can't get over the fact that they're using dragons," Rosie said, "Aren't they non-domesticated? At Gringotts? For security, you know?"
"How and why would you want to domesticate a dragon?" Daphne questioned.
"Dragons are domesticated all the time back at home," Johann interjected.
Rosie rolled her eyes. She didn't think that Johann would stick around for this long. Daphne had meant to set Rosie up with him, but Rosie was not interested in the least.
Tiffany, who had met the boy a couple of days prior insisted that he stay. She had developed a crush on him, which indefinitely sealed the deal regarding his inclusion in the group.
For the first time in forever, there were four champions chosen to compete thanks to Harry Potter. He never failed to make a complete shit show out of the entire year. Not only was he the first underage wizard to put his name in the cup, but he had the secret power to succeed at passing Dumbledore's age line. Some upperclassmen must have put his name there for him. Or at least that was the rumor that was circulating around school.
"Domesticating dragons are all-natural," Johann finished.
"Uh, not really," Rosie commented to which Johann ignored that.
Tiffany scooted closer towards Johann, "Johann, I would love to see the dragons from your country," Tiffany said. She was eating up his every word.
"As I said, perfectly natural," Johann repeated– as if he was trying to prove something. He switched his focus to Daphne, "And how about you, Miss Greengrass?"
"Me?" Daphne said, "Are you sure domesticating dragons even safe-"
"-Daphne doesn't care for such arbitrary details like that," Tiffany interrupted, "I for one have never seen a domesticated dragon myself."
Johann could not stop talking. It's not like Tiffany's encouragement was adding fuel to the fire. Daphne turned to Rosie, gagging, making her laugh.
Tiffany was in complete awe of the creature that was Johann. He was a mysterious foreigner, and that was enticing for her. Every word coming out of Johann's mouth was like angels singing at the top of the heavens. Tiffany was a romantic. She loved 'love'. She loved the idea of love. Fantasizing about love made her heart swoon. Tiffany garnered a crush on what seemed like bi-monthly. With Johann, she was falling in love twice as fast, and she had already gotten over her previous crush.
"Place your bets here! Place your bets here!" The Weasley twins shouted. Fred and George were each carrying a small trunk with a sling attached to them so that the trunk was opened in front of them like a hotdog bun. They were walking down each aisle of the wooden bleachers. They had pamphlets of each champion: Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, Cedric Diggory, and Harry Potter. All with coordinating colors to the respective champion.
The twins were bombarded with students eager to place a bet on which champion they thought would do the best. Every student was given an envelope. On the outside of the envelope, they wrote their name, age, and price of their bet. They would place the money inside, seal the envelope flap down and then throw it into the Weasley twin's open trunks.
The Slytherin students were placing their bets just as fast as the other Hogwarts houses. Despite the twins being Gryffindors, the enemy, the Slytherins always loved a good prank, and it's not as if the twin's targets were Slytherins all the time. Well– the Slytherins were the majority of the target, but every once in a while the prankee was a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor. It really didn't matter to the twins. Any student was fair game.
Draco placed his bet while puffing out his chest proudly showing off his 'Potter Sucks' badge. Something he had given dozens to the rest of the Slytherin fourth years. Draco personally gave Rosie a badge as well, and Rosie wore it… But she hid it under her coat.
"Would you like to place a bet, miss?" George spoke directly to Rosie. She could see that glint of mischief in his eye. A small grin stretched onto his face. While a whirlwind of students were placing their bets into George's trunk, he kept a steady level of contact with Rosie.
George leaned his head back against the brick wall in realization, "You're right. You're so right. This is way too fast."
George hid his face behind his hands, "Rosie…" He took a deep breath, "I am so sorry. I swear I'm not the type to kiss and tell."
"It's okay-," Rosie said, then she whispered, "-I think." She laid her hand on her heart. Pounding. She had almost kissed a boy– a first kiss at that.
"This is very far from 'okay'," George stood up from the bench. He had begun pacing back and forth. "Your brother– yes, I know exactly who he is– is going to kill me!"
"What does Cameron have to do with this?" Rosie answered.
"That bloody git hates the living hell out of me– fuck, I hate his guts too-"
"-Excuse me." Rosie crossed her arms.
"Bugger, sorry, but the fact that he's your brother makes this situation so much worse!"
"George, calm down!" Rosie pleaded, "We didn't do anything wrong." Rosie pulled on one of George's loose sleeves of his white uniform button-down.
George stopped pacing. He let Rosie hold onto him," M-Maybe, you're right. Maybe– Maybe we should just pretend none of this ever happened."
A soft 'oh' rolled off Rosie's tongue, "Are you sure?"
"I don't think anything good would come out of this," George said.
"Is that true?" Rosie said. Disappointment. She barely knew George, but she felt like she did. She did technically know about him based on the rumors about him and his troublemaking twin going around school. She– sort of knew him… Actually-she-didn't. She didn't know the first real thing about the true George Weasley, and it's not as if she could get a chance in the future to do so. So, there was only one choice Rosie could make.
She held a firm grip on George's sleeve, "You know what, you're right." Rosie nodded.
"R-Really?" George said. He looked surprised at Rosie's response.
"It's only proper," Rosie finished. She tried to Face George, eye to eye. She wanted to let him know she was serious. She licked her lips as she let go of George's sleeve.
"You're serious," George confirmed after promptly licking his lips too. "Alright… I–I guess I'll see you around the grounds every so often then."
George stuck out his hand for Rosie to shake. The ultimate sign that a girl just got friendzone–ed.
"And thank you for bringing my wand back," Rosie said, taking George's hand to shake it.
"It's no problem. Harry was asking around about it."
"Well, I'm glad it was you."
Rosie waved to George for the last time as she and George left, walking in opposite directions.
The moment Rosie knew she was alone, she screamed internally. She wanted to pull her hair out of her head. That was going to be the last time she had a real reason to talk to him. What's done was done. He delivered her wand, and she got it. Rosie no longer had an acceptable excuse to be seen around Hogwarts with a Gryffindor, a Weasley. And he was so cute too…
The way back to the common room felt like forever. Rosie was almost attempting to make her last moment with George last longer– unconsciously taking the biggest detour she could. She wandered until it was completely dark outside when she bumped into Professor McGonagall.
"Ms. Anh?" McGonagall said. "It's ten minutes to curfew. The Slytherin common room– I believe is in the other direction."
"Oh, sorry, professor," Rosie said, "I didn't know it was getting that late. I promise I was on my way back."
"You'd do well to head back to Slytherin house soon," McGonagall advised, "Otherwise, I'd suspect Filch would do no better than give you detention– cleaning the trophies," she hinted.
Rosie grimaced, "I'll head back straight away. Good night, professor."
"Good night, Ms. Anh."
Cameron was waiting for Rosie at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. The exact thing Rosie was dreading. Judging by Cameron's furrowed brow, and foot-tapping, this was not going to go well.
"Cameron, what are you doing here?" Rosie said.
Cameron's frown grew bigger, "There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere."
"Whatever for?" Rosie asked.
His eyes widened, "What do you mean 'Whatever for?' Could you cut it out with the nonsense? I saw what you did earlier!"
Rosie straightened her back, "That was none of your business."
"Yes, of course, it's my business. You dragged me into one of your little schemes. Merlin's beard for crying out loud!" Cameron's face was turning the slightest shade of red. "I can't believe you lied to Adrian, saying that I was looking for his help. The poor guy looked like a bumbling fool and then I see you running off into the sunset with a Gryffindor, a Weasley no less!"
"Why does that matter?" Rosie answered defiantly.
"Why does it matter?" Cameron mocked. "Rosie, you can't be that naive. They-Are-The-Enemy-"
"-Not entirely," Rosie cut him off.
Cameron's left eye twitched, "Honestly, those Gryffindors play just as dirty as us Slytherins."
"Everyone is competitive during quidditch," Rosie argued, which made Cameron scoff.
"You do not see them the way I do on and off of the quidditch pitch. Why do you think I broke that kid's nose last year? It's because a Gryffindor thought it would be funny to trip Adrian down a flight of stairs the day before our big game. Remember? He literally could not play quidditch for the rest of the season."
Rosie hated to admit that Cameron was right. That Gryffindor was pretty cruel. But just because he was a Gryffindor, did not mean all Gryffindors were like that… George wasn't like that. George was– George– He was sweet. Wait. Stop! Stop thinking about him-
-Cameron was right. That Gryffindor was pretty cruel. Adrian Pucey was in the Hospital Wing for a lengthy three months before he could even get back on his feet…
More like getting back on his crutches. After falling down a flight of stairs, he was out for the rest of the quidditch season. Cameron and Adrian talked about that all summer whenever they were on call, which was quite often. Cameron could not talk any quieter. Actually, Cameron and Adrian were sort of looking forward to dominating in quidditch this year, although, for obvious reasons, they couldn't do that this year either.
"I don't want to see you hanging out with that lot," Cameron was putting his foot down.
"What." Rosie said curtly.
"They're going to ruin you, and you're going to get hurt."
"You can't tell that things like that are going to happen, Cameron."
"I am warning you, Rosie. I don't want to see you around them."
"You cannot tell me what to do."
Rosie walked away from the conversation. She was going to do it regardless of what part of the argument she and her brother were at. Didn't make Cameron any less angry. He was calling after her. A measly attempt of calling after her. He didn't want to make a scene. It was etiquette. Rosie walked straight to the girls' dorm, knowing her brother wouldn't follow. He wouldn't dare. It was etiquette. And going into a girl's room without said girls not being appearance ready was in that list of etiquette. There were just a lot of rules when it came to high society
George kept a steady gaze on Rosie. He mouthed a small 'hi' to her with a tiny wave. His cheeks were so rosy in the cold, making the freckles speckled on his nose pop out more than usual. Rosie immediately looked away. Cameron was sitting in the row behind her.
That was when a blast explosion came from inside the tent where all the champions were getting ready. It was time for the First Task to start. And by then, George was gone. The first dragon was brought out, and it was time for the first champion to begin. The egg was so shiny golden and glittery. Even under the cloudy, gray skies of Britain, the egg glowed.
Out of all the champions, Viktor Krum certainly did the best. Cedric, not too bad. Fleur burned her skirt, and Harry– well, he was the chosen one. What more was there to explain? Harry controlled the crowd's energy so easily. He had them in the palm of his hand and was one heck of a hell-raiser.
During Harry's First Task, he completely gave everyone a heart attack. It went batshit crazy. He was hiding from the dragon when he had summoned his broom all the way from the school grounds. He was doing all these wild tricks when he flew in the direction of the school. The dragon had broken off of the chain that it was attached to, the whole school watched as Harry and the dragon were just two tiny dots in the distance. The dragon was constantly screaming until silence. When Harry came flying back to the stadium with that golden egg over his head, the school broke into a dramatic roar of cheers and screams. The Second Task was set to take place in February.
For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like around every corner of school, Rosie was bumping into George. It was totally unintentional. Rosie was not trying to run into him on purpose.
At breakfast, George would come into the Great Hall as Rosie was leaving. That happened almost every day. The hard part was not telling Daphne about any of this. Rosie was hoping she didn't have to face this problem ever again. It was too perfect for Rosie to predict. Daphne liked having her breakfast a precise hour before class. Rosie didn't want to eat breakfast alone, so she joined Daphne. She didn't know that whenever that hour was passed, George would be running late into the Great Hall to catch breakfast as class was to start.
Even on the weekends, Rosie would see George at Hogsmeade. What made matters worse was when Rosie was being rung up at the Zonko's cashier. George was at the register beside her. Rosie should have known that a prankster like George would enjoy a joke shop. Rosie couldn't help it when she went into the store for sugar quills almost every week. As studious as Rosie was, she wanted to cut some slack for herself in class from time to time.
George was the one who decided they forget about each other, so why under every circumstance was George making eye contact with her! They were supposed to be avoiding each other!
"Hey, Rosie. Tiffany and I are going to Hogsmeade with some Durmstrang boys. You coming?" Tiffany asked.
Tiffany was waiting for Daphne to get ready.
"No, I think I'm just going to stay here and study. Gotta practice my transfiguration spells," Rosie said.
"What? Again? You already skipped out on the last two weeks." Tiffany pouted.
"Yeah, you should go outside for a change," Daphne insisted. She was combing her hair back in front of the mirror.
"Oh, you know I like to stay inside. You guys go have fun." Rosie waved her hand, dismissing them.
"Okay, you get a pass for today, but next time you won't be so fortunate," Daphne said, picking up her bag, and slinging the strap around her shoulder.
"Time to go get some boys!" Tiffany said, letting the door close on her way out.
"Tiffany is totally going to get you to go next weekend," Daphne said, "And I know you hate staying inside, you liar," she finished before leaving.
Rosie really did hate the inside. She wasn't one for staying cooped up in her room all day. At least if she was going to study for hours, she might as well get a change of scenery. Even the library was better than studying in her room.
So Rosie decided that was exactly what she was going to do. She went to the library and brought her wand and transfiguration book. She had to study on how to turn a napkin into a canary, and based on her progress in class, she has not been able to successfully do so. McGonagall was expecting each student to demonstrate the spell correctly by the end of the week. Rosie was toast.
Rosie walked around the library, trying to find a quiet spot to keep away from the crowds. The school was going through a last stretch of testing before Winter break. The library was nice and cozy, so more than a handful of students were having their heads tucked away in their books, studying for their exams.
There were a few study groups, so it wasn't as if the building was completely silent. White noise of quiet chatter. The peachy hue of candle lamps glowing in the dark library. Scratching of inked quills on dry parchment. The soft patter of winter's rain on the library's floor-to-ceiling length windows. Rosie found a spot. She opened up her transfiguration book and brought out a stack of napkins. As if using another napkin would make a difference.
Rosie recited the spell from her textbook. She just couldn't enunciate the right vowels. The book broke it down rather easily. It's just that in the moment when she spoke the spell verbally, she got all tongue-tied.
Spell. Napkin. Spell. Napkin with feathers. Spell again. Napkin changes color to a canary. Every attempt was futile.
"Ugh," Rosie groaned. She let her head fall onto the desk with a thump.
"Having some trouble there?"
Bollocks. Merlin's beard… Rosie could not believe it. George was literally sitting at the table across from Rosie… She hardly noticed him. He was so unusually silent. He had his own couple of books spread out in front of him. He was writing down some notes onto some spare parchment.
At this point in time, Rosie knew that she couldn't avoid him. It was a cruel test of fate. The sad thing was that George looked genuinely concerned, which meant that Rosie must have really sucked at that spell.
"Is it that obvious?" Rosie said
"I mean, you're not totally off, you're wrist movement is a bit tight," George answered.
"How am I supposed to change that?"
"Um, let me just show you." George walked to Rosie's side of the table. "Watch and learn."
George whipped out his wand from his robe's spare pockets. He recited the spell. Rosie got that part right. Then he waved his wand in a circle-like motion, and the thing Rosie completely neglected was the little snap of the wrist at the end of the wand motion.
The napkin transformed into a petite, white canary. The tiny bird flapped its tiny, small wings and hovered above the table. When it stopped hovering, it hopped on Rosie's textbook.
"See, you're pronouncing the spell correctly. All is good and well with that part. I think the details of the wand motion might slip your mind."
"I see," Rosie said.
"Pretty authentic for just a napkin, isn't it?" George stroked the bird's mane of feathers.
"Mine is never close enough," Rosie groaned, "And McGonagall wants us to present the spell by the end of this week for exams. I'm totally not going to get a pass."
"Do you usually have trouble with Transfiguration?" George asked.
"Yes, and it's terrible," Rosie said.
"Why don't you get a tutor or something. I'm sure someone would be willing to help."
"That's the point. I can't get a tutor. No one in Slytherin house uses tutors, except if you were learning some random course Hogwarts doesn't teach."
"What about study groups?"
"Ugh, even less possible. It's just this stupid norm where Slytherins feel like you should be able to do well in school if you study by yourself. That's the only way you can call yourself a true A-plus student– if you can do everything by yourself."
"W-Well," George fidgeted, "If you need help, you can ask me?"
"But I thought you said–"
"-I know what I said before!" George raised his voice.
Several students aggressively shushed him, and George whispered a general apology.
"As I was saying-," George lowered his voice, "- I can help you one-on-one. No one needs to know because honestly, you really look like you're struggling unless you're not and I can go find another desk and this was some random passing interaction."
"I don't know," Rosie said.
"And just putting it out there, based on what I saw now, you sort of suck at Transfiguration." George admitted.
Rosie's mouth dropped, "I couldn't have been that bad. You said it yourself. My pronunciation was correct."
"Okay, if this was some one-time interaction, I was going to say that to be nice, but if I was going to be your tutor, it's better I was honest. Please-don't-be-offended." George put his hands up in a defensive manner.
"No, you're not being offensive, and why are you doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Putting your arms up like a shield all weirdly."
"I thought you were going to hit me."
"Why would I hit you?"
"You should see the look on your face. You seem more than a little upset."
"I've been attempting this spell for the past hour, of course, I'm going to seem more than a little upset."
Rosie caught a glimpse of herself in the window's reflection beside her. Purple eyebags, and bloodshot eyes. The only routine Rosie cared to do was brushing her teeth, washing her face, and tying her hair back. Rosie couldn't believe that George was still here. Then she realized, she really was torturing herself over this spell when she could simply ask for help. Sure, she wasn't used to doing that, but it was either asking for help or receiving a failing grade for her exams. Rosie preferred the first option.
"You know what. Sure, can you be my tutor, George?" Rosie asked.
"As long as nobody knows," George said.
"Deal."
Rosie and George set some ground rules. If they were going to go around, sneaking behind everyone's back, there might as well be several security measures to be absolutely sure that no one was going to find out.
Rule #1: Always meet up at an agreed designated time and place. (Does not include each other's house common rooms.)
Rule #2: Under any circumstances, whether in a study session or not, if people nearby are suspected to know who Rosie or George are, Rosie and George are to stop the study session and leave the premises.
Rule #3: Don't talk to each other outside of the study sessions…
Rosie and George shook hands on it. The rules were a verbal promise, in which they wouldn't be too hard to remember. It was just common sense. The bottom line was that Rosie and George would be avoiding a millennium of headaches if they kept this arrangement to themselves.
"I'll see you tomorrow, professor," Rosie said.
"Please don't call me that," George said. He was back in his seat across from Rosie.
"Yeah, yeah, hope I don't see you around," Rosie finished.
"Yikes, you could work on the wordplay," George cringed, "Now, hurry before someone sees us."
Tiffany was relaxing on Daphne's bed when Rosie got back her the room, "Hey, you're back! Finally! Now ask me how my day was."
"Okay, so how was your day at Hogsmeade?" Rosie asked.
"Oh, it was quite a wonder actually," Tiffany shared.
Absent-minded, Rosie put away her things in her trunk. She made sure to carefully tuck her Transfiguration book inside neatly as to keep the pages clean. She batted off crumbs off her bag.
"I think I'm in love!" Tiffany announced.
"You said that last month," Rosie reminded.
Tiffany looked offended, "Excuse me, this time it's different–"
"-you said that last month too. Who did you say your last crush was? That-uh-that Hufflepuff. What was his name? Something-Davis."
"So not even close. It was Ernie MacMillian– Ugh, he was such a hunk!"
"He helped pick up your books after you bumped into him on purpose, and he was already dating another Hufflepuff girl. Remember? Bones, Susan Bones."
"They were broken up!"
"They were on a break," Rosie clarified. She spelled the rest of the crumbs from her bag.
"It's destiny I tell you!" Tiffany sidetracked. "Johann and I are going to be for real. Luck is on my side and I can just feel it."
"Alright, just don't get too attached Tiff. You might be setting yourself up for disappointment."
"I can't wait for him to ask me out!" Tiffany was freaking out on Daphne's bed.
Rosie rolled her eyes.
"I really hope you don't mind me crushing over Johann when Daphne wanted to set you up with him."
"Go ahead, Tiff. He's all yours," Rosie said, which appeared to Tiffany as an open invitation to talk about Johann for three hours straight. Daphne came back from her shower. Tiffany continued. The girls missed dinner. Could chop like a knife. Rosie did not have the heart to shut Tiffany up. Sharp like a razor. Daphne had more than enough. Goes on for days. Daphne kicked Tiffany out of the dorm room before time was even close to curfew. Rosie didn't know there could be so many adjectives to describe how chiseled a boy's cheekbones were. Cheeks sharp like a knife. As sharp as a razor. Goes on for days.