July 23rd, 1991.
The music stopped, jarring her out of her focus. Rose looked to the back of the studio, where the instructor was clapping her hands. She sighed, knowing what was coming. Missus Cawthorne was looking at her.
Here it comes, of course she wouldn't let the last class be an easy one.
"Stop! Stop, everyone. Once again, miss Potter. From the beginning."
She could hear the other girls mumbling amongst themselves, some giggling, no doubt thinking that she had messed up a step.
She knew she hadn't.
Missus Cawthorne didn't care.
Rose Potter wasn't really fond of ballet class.
It wasn't the dancing she disliked. If anything, she enjoyed that part.
It was hard at the beginning, she ended every class exhausted, out of breath, her legs shaking and feet hurting. She had even passed out a few times. Aunt Petunia hadn't cared, she wanted Rose to excel at this, and forced her to come back.
Now, after a year and a half of practice, she has gotten used to it. The dancing became her favourite part of the day, instead of something she dreaded. She even did it in the privacy of her room, her body moving, following the rhythm of music only she could hear.
The slow, steady movements that made her feel like she was swimming. Relaxing, calming her thoughts and letting her forget about the bad things in her life.
The pirouettes and jumps that made her blood flow and rush, her muscles stretch and burn, that brought excitement to her dull day. She could never keep a smile out of her face after finishing the allegro practice.
No, the problem was not the dancing.
It was the instructor.
The instructor, Missus Cawthorne, was harsh, strict and Rose knew that she had something against her.
The stick-thin, white-haired woman certainly demanded a lot from the other girls but from Rose, she demanded perfection.
During warm up, she singled her out every time Rose made the smallest mistake.
Sure, if another girl did something wrong the missus would correct her with cutting remarks, but she always made an example out of Rose.
It was worse during the actual routines, she would call out Rose's every misstep, every wrong placement of feet, and every imperfect posture. She felt like no matter how much effort she put, how many hours she spent practising every single position she was taught, Missus Cawthorne always found her wanting.
And the other girls loved it. Why wouldn't they? Every second the missus was spending berating Rose, was a second she was not using to embarrass them in front of the others.
Rose guessed that it was because Missus Cawthorne knew Aunt Petunia from their book club. She can only wonder what things her aunt had told the older woman.
Whatever the reason, every other class, the missus stopped the whole group and made her do the routine on her own in front of the other girls.
The first few times her face had burned with humiliation, her body had been jittery with nerves and it had made everything worse. She had always ended up making even more mistakes, and the missus kept berating her, uncaring of the laughter from the other girls.
Now, she kept her face as blank as possible, only the slightest of pink dusting her cheeks belating her embarrassment. Now, her movements were sure, not a sign of the nervousness she felt present on her.
"Yes, Missus Cawthorne."
Rose took a step out of the group of other girls, keeping her eyes on the mirror in front of her. She looked at her reflection's windswept black hair, her messy locks held back by a hairnet and met the grass green of her eyes.
Unnatural, she had heard someone call them once, no one's eyes are that shade of green. Since then she always had them hidden behind a pair of glasses she had found in the back of a drawer at home.
I wish I could wear them during class… I don't need them, but I still feel naked without my glasses.
She dismissed her thoughts and focused back on the class.
She moved her body back to the first position, legs straight, her feet making a straight line, heels almost touching, and her arms to the side of her body, rounded and held low in front of the body, with the fingertips lightly touching.
Rose breathed deeply, the voices of her classmates disappearing, like the girls had faded from the world. There was only her, and her reflection in an empty studio.
"Begin." A clap, coming far away from the abyss outside her little world.
The music started.
Rose went through the five basic positions, her body so used to the movements that it was like it moved on its own.
Then she started with small pirouettes, following the routine her instructor had given them, then the complexity increased and she started to add little jumps, her body bouncing in short bursts, springing from one foot to the other.
The music guided Rose's movements, the tempo increasing alongside her heartbeat, the rush of excitement filling her limbs.
This is freedom. The complexity of her movements increased, following the crescendo of the melody, her body almost gliding through the studio. Missus Cawthorne might be the worst, but this feeling is what makes it worth it.
From outside her focus, she could hear Missus Cawthorne bark out instructions, changing the routine on the go. Some part of her knew that the movements were not something her class had practised on a routine, but the woman didn't seem to care.
Rose's body followed the missus' voice.
It was exhilarating, Rose relished in the challenge and her blood sang in tandem with the melody.
The song was about to finish and Rose heard the final instruction.
A move she hadn't done before, but one that the instructor had shown and explained.
Her left leg extended, going almost horizontal to the ground and her arms open, like she was a bird taking flight.
Rose wished she could fly. Fly away from Little Whinging, away from Aunt Petunia and Missus Cawthorne and their demands.
The music finally came to a stop, and the world rushed back to her.
Her breathing was hard, her chest heaving with exertion, and she could feel sweat pouring down her body.
Rose went back to the first position, and with a little curtsy, she bowed to an invisible audience.
The other girls were silent, their expressions pinched with frustration. She even saw some of the older girls glaring at her. Rose was sure they expected her to mess up and were mad at her because she didn't. She ignored them and focused her attention on Missus Cawthorne, who was looking at her with a neutral expression.
"Acceptable. Your basics are finally on point, but your allegro could use a lot more polishing. There were moments in which you weren't keeping up with the music. Every instant you lose in between positions affects how in sync you are with the melody. Remember that, miss Potter. Other than that, keep working on your stamina. It's unacceptable for you to be so out of breath after such a short routine."
Rose just nodded, focusing on getting her breath under control.
If it were her from a year before she would have been frustrated that her best performance hadn't received even a word of praise from her instructor, but she had gotten used to the words of Missus Cawthorne. She knew that the less the woman complained, the better she had done. And her words just now were nothing compared to the long diatribes the woman had launched into the first few times Rose had danced.
If anything this was like receiving a standing ovation. She thought, pressing her lips together to keep a grin from appearing on her face.
"Gather around ladies. This has been the last class before the summer break. Make sure to keep yourselves limber and to follow the exercise routine I have given each of you. We will not meet again until September the 3rd. If you slack off during this month, I will know."
Rose wondered if it had been actually necessary for the woman to look directly at her when she said that. She knew that Aunt Petunia wouldn't let her skip her training. How else would her aunt brag about her to her friends? If she wasn't going to be the best ballerina in the studio, then why else did her aunt take her in after her parents died in the car accident?
Aunt Petunia's words, not hers.
The missus gave some more instructions and led the class for cool-down stretches. Then, after a curtsy and a 'Thank you for the lesson, Missus Cawthorne' the class was dismissed and they all headed to the changing room.
Rose tried to ignore the way everyone… well, ignored her. It wasn't anything new, and whatever aching the loneliness gave her had already faded.
She didn't blame the girls, either. The first time Rose had tried befriending one of them she told Aunt Petunia, only to be told off loudly in front of everyone because she shouldn't waste time making friends when she was already so busy with practice and chores. The worst part was that Aunt Petunia had also screamed at the girl she befriended, and told her to stay away from Rose.
No one ever talked to her afterwards. And every new girl was warned about her before they even tried to approach her.
Now, while she could hear everyone making plans to meet during the break and have fun, Rose had to keep herself from bitterly thinking that the only thing she had to look forward to was doing chores under the summer sun of august.
Better hurry, can't have Aunt Petunia waiting for long. If she gets angry, she might not let me rest today, and I am knackered.
She removed her leotard and tights, trying not to cringe when she had to almost peel the sweat soaked clothes from her body and entered the shower cubicle.
Rose sighed in relief when the hot water hit her aching muscles. She closed her eyes and pressed her head to the wall of the shower.
I don't ever want to leave…I'm melting…
She used whatever willpower she had left to keep herself from turning into goo and washed herself as much as she could with her aching arms protesting every movement.
A few minutes later -too short minutes- she covered herself in a towel, left the shower room, doing her best to not look at the other girls going and coming from the showers, and went to her cubby.
After she dried herself and put on her clothes she stood in front of the mirror of the changing room.
Her black hair hung to her middle black, and she knew she had until it dried completely before it became as unmanageable as ever. She brushed it for a while, trying to straighten the curls she had gotten from keeping it in a bun during practice, and then tied it in a simple ponytail, making sure her forehead - and the scar on it- was covered by her bangs.
Don't have time for anything else more than a pony. Was the excuse she gave herself, but she knew that she didn't really know how to do any nice hairdos like the ones the girls around her had. Aunt Petunia had only taught her how to do a bun because she didn't want to do it every time before practice.
Rose looked at her reflection again, ignoring the creases her light blue sundress had, and smiled. It was only a few days until her eleventh birthday and the Dursleys always made sure to not give her any chores that day.
Aunt Petunia had even given her a piece of treacle tart last year, ignoring for the first time the diet she made Rose follow.
Maybe she will do it again this year.
She couldn't wait.
July 24th 1991
A harsh knock on the door of her room woke her up.
"Girl, get up! Don't think that because you are on break, you will get out of your turn cooking breakfast!" Aunt Petunia shrieked from the door, her voice obliterating any chance the black haired mess on the little bed had for falling asleep again.
Rose grumbled under her breath, hair standing up in every direction.
Aunt Petunia had been lenient yesterday and let her rest her aching body, but she was not getting away from chores today, it seemed.
She shuffled her way to the bathroom, picking up her glasses from the nightstand on the way and putting them on.
Rose looked at her reflection and, while she knew a losing battle when she saw one, she picked up a brush from the sink and tried to tame the mess that was her hair.
A couple of minutes later, her hair a little more presentable, her face washed and her teeth brushed, she went down the stairs and to the kitchen of her home.
"Are you really still in your nightgown? Do you think you will laze around the whole summer?"
Rose kept her grimace out of her face, she had hoped Aunt Petunia wouldn't mention it. She called it a nightgown, but really, it was an old dress that was a little too ratty to use outside. It was light and breezy and perfect for a hot day like today.
"Sorry, Aunt Petunia, I didn't want to be late for cooking breakfast." She lied, not wanting to go back up and change. She was comfy.
"... As long as my Dudley has his breakfast in time, do whatever you want girl. But you'll be working with me in the garden later, so you better change after breakfast."
Rose nodded, and approached the stove. Looking at the ingredients Aunt Petunia had prepared, she gathered that she had to make a full breakfast today.
Rose turned on the stove, ignoring the way her aunt was hovering over by the door, and started to cook the way she was taught.
Does she still think I'm going to burn down the house? After a year of cooking? She thought, almost rolling her eyes.
She put some slices of bacon and mushrooms on the oiled pan, letting them brown for a bit, and then cracked some eggs and fried them with the oil and bacon grease. Meanwhile she warmed in a pot the beans Aunt Petunia had already taken out of the can, and grilled some slices of tomato. Finally she toasted the slices of bread and slathered them with butter and jam.
It took a while to get the plates for the three Dursleys. Luckily Uncle Vernon always woke up before Dudley, so she could finish making his portion first before starting on her cousin's. Aunt Petunia meanwhile took the plates she was done with to the table.
When she finally got to her portion, she grilled some tomato slices, sprinkled them with salt and pepper, and toasted two slices of bread. She completed her breakfast with a fried egg.
She wasn't dancing today in the studio, so she didn't need a big breakfast. Aunt Petunia always managed her portions on those days, but she always kept an eye on what Rose ate when it was her turn to cook and would punish her if she ate a lot when she wasn't supposed to.
I won't have you turning into a little pig, like the Robinson's girl, her aunt had told her. Rose had often wondered if one of their neighbours warned their children about turning into Dudley if they ate too much.
Rose gathered her plate and cutlery and approached the table. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were eating already, and Dudley was nowhere to be seen.
"Is Dudley still in bed, Pet? I wanted to bring him to the office today. Get him to know the boys and the job. Might be good for his future to get an early start in the business." Uncle Vernon asked in between bites, his moustache dirty with egg yolk.
"Oh, let him sleep, Vernon. You can always take him another day, he must be tired from his last day of school. My poor boy, his teacher made him stay after class because he was playing with little Piers during class." Aunt Petunia simpered, and Rose knew that 'playing' meant being a prat to everyone else around him, but her aunt didn't see it that way.
Rose didn't say anything though, her aunt had always told her that good girls weren't heard, and talking while they were eating was a sure way to anger her. Talking bad about Dudley was a surer one.
It wasn't much later when the stomping began and Dudley Dursley rushed- more like waddled, she thought inwardly- into the room.
"MUM! I told you to call me early today! Piers is going to show me the snake he got for his birthday!"
Rose rolled her eyes, Dudley and Piers had gone on a zoo trip on Dudley's birthday last month and then spent the whole week talking about the snakes they saw. Luckily Rose had practice that day and did not go with them.
Dudley had spent the next month turning everyone bonkers screaming how much he wanted a pet snake, only for his friend to get one before him. He had been insufferable when he found out.
"Oh, Duddy, it's still before nine. You have the whole summer to see Piers and his… pet." Petunia shuddered, her face turning almost green. "Now, come, have some breakfast. Your cousin cooked your favourite."
"Ugh, Rose cooked again? I don't want her freak fingers all over my food!"
Don't know why he complains, he always eats whatever I cook without complaint. It's just whenever he's told that I cooked that he whines.
"How would my freakishness get onto the food, anyways? It's not like I cook with my hands, I use a spatula." She muttered under her breath.
"Dudley! Don't say that word in this house! There are no freaks here! Now, eat the food or you will not see your friend until school starts again! You too, girl! Don't talk back!" Vernon's face had turned a violent puce colour, like it always did whenever something angered him, and Dudley knew when to cut his losses so he sat down mulishly to eat.
Rose just shrugged, not wanting to get him angrier, she knew that whatever she said now would be 'talking back' according to Vernon.
Dudley glanced at her and Rose maturely stuck her tongue out at him. Dudley turned red in anger and stuck out his tongue too.
"Are you finished, girl?" Rose snapped back at her uncle's voice. He was looking at her with an eyebrow raised and Rose grimaced, embarrassed that her uncle had caught their exchange. She finished her last bite of toast, trying to act like nothing happened and nodded. "If you are, go pick up the mail. I'm expecting a letter."
"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Rose wiped her mouth with a napkin and started to pick up her plate, only for her aunt to take it from her hands.
"Leave it, I will do the dishes. Do what your uncle said and then change your clothes. We have a lot to do today." The woman sniffed, and then left for the kitchen.
Rose blinked a little and then shrugged. It's not like she liked doing the dishes.
She went to the front door and there on the doormat were a couple of letters. A postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge who was on vacation, a brown envelope that looked like a bill and … a letter for Rose? She blinked. There, clearly written in a nice cursive on a thick yellowish parchment-paper envelope was her name.
Ms. R. Potter.
The Smallest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey.
She stalled in front of the door, her mind trying to come up with ideas on who could send her a letter. Her only family was the Dursleys, she didn't have any friends, and whatever the school would need to tell her, would tell Aunt Petunia first, not send her a letter. Maybe it's about ballet class?
Rose Potter picked up the letter and inspected it closely. There was no sender and no stamp on the envelope, she turned it around and there, on the front of it sealing the letter closed, was a wax seal. A coat of arms with an eagle, a lion, a snake and a badger surrounding a large letter H.
"Hurry up, girl! I don't have the whole morning, unlike you!" Uncle Vernon's voice brought her out of her reverie. She dithered in the entrance of her home. If she showed them her letter, Rose was sure they would take it from her. But where could she put it?
Blast this dress that has no pockets!
"Girl!"
"Coming, Uncle Vernon!" She shoved the letter into the collar of her dress, having no other choice. Luckily the fabric of the bodice was quite snug on her, so it didn't look like it was going to fall down the skirt.
She picked the other items and went back to her uncle. With her mind on the letter written for her, she gave the two others to Vernon.
"Finally! Did you get lost on the way?" Her uncle mocked, but then turned his attention from her, focusing on what he received. Rose sighed in relief and rushed upstairs "Girl, don't run inside the house!"
A rushed "Sorry Uncle, need to change!" was all Vernon got in reply.
Rose's heart was hammering inside her chest. For some reason she knew, with a certainty she had never felt about anything else before, that this letter was important. That she must read it.
Entering her room and closing the door behind her, she took the letter from inside her dress with shaking fingers.
She read the green ink on the envelope again, and sure enough, it hadn't changed. Ms. R. Potter.
She turned it around and, although she didn't want to damage it because it looked so nice, she cracked the wax seal to open the letter.
Inside there were two parchment pages filled with the flowy cursive words written in the same emerald green ink.
Rose's breath shuddered and her eyes opened wide behind her glasses.
Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?
When Rose left her room half an hour later,after reading both pages from beginning to end three times -and having changed into some old jean overalls and a ratty t-shirt- she was a girl on a mission.
She should have dismissed the words she had read as hogwash, fabrications, and utter lies.
But she didn't.
Because Rose knew she wasn't normal. Things happened around her, strange things. There was a reason Dudley called her a freak. And Rose didn't disagree with him.
Once, one of her teachers wouldn't believe her when Rose told him she hadn't cheated on a test, and was berating her in front of the class. She remembered being so angry, feeling frustrated tears falling from her eyes. And suddenly his hair turned blue. Aunt Petunia had been so angry at her-even though it couldn't have been Rose the one responsible- that she had her grounded for the whole weekend, not allowed out of her room, unless it was for eating or bathroom trips.
One time Dudley had put gum on her hair and Aunt Petunia had to cut it really short to get all the gunk from it. That time Rose herself hadn't want to come out of her room, feeling so ugly with her scar out in the open and her hair as short as a boy's, but the next day, when Petunia forced her to go to school, her hair was as long as it was before she had it cut. She was locked into her room again that weekend.
Another time, Dudley and his other friends were chasing her in the schoolyard, trying to grab her and force her to eat some bugs, when suddenly, without explanation, she found herself on the roof of the school building. It had turned into a big issue and the firefighters had to come rescue her. She had even seen some TV cameras in the school grounds. And guess what? She was grounded again, even though it was all Dudley's fault.
Weird that I couldn't find anyone talking about what happened on the telly that week.
And just like that, a lot more weird stuff happened whenever she got angry or sad. It only stopped happening by the time she joined ballet class, so she had put it out of her mind.
But maybe there was an explanation about what was wrong with her? The letter spoke about Spells, Potions, Magic.
Aunt Petunia must know something. She had always blamed her, even though there had been no reason to believe it was her fault.
So Rose went out to the garden where her aunt was crouching down, already pruning some rose bushes.
Uncle Vernon was gone already, it seemed, and must have taken Dudley to Piers' house. It was only her and her aunt in the house.
Aunt Petunia looked at her, eyes full of disapproval.
"You are late. I expected you to be here after breakfast. What on earth took you so long?" Her aunt motioned her to get closer, and with a grunt of exertion she stood.
Rose didn't say anything, she just took the shears that her aunt offered and crouched in the same spot.
She felt jittery, she knew her aunt would get angry if she told her about what the letter said, but Rose wanted to know. She could feel her aunt looking at her suspiciously, like she knew she had done something wrong.
They spent the next few minutes in tense silence, Rose only following her aunt's instructions. Petunia wanted the garden to look perfect, so she had to follow what she said to a letter.
Her hands betrayed her, however. The shaking got so bad that she pricked her index finger with a thorn.
Rose hissed and brought the hand to her chest.
"Idiot girl, give it here." Her aunt grabbed her hand with a huff and inspected it. "It's just a spot, don't be a baby." She took a handkerchief from her pocket and covered the finger that was dripping a little blood. "...So? What is it? What have you done this time?" Aunt Petunia asked after a few moments, still holding her hand.
Rose stilled, looking at her aunt in surprise.
"I'm not a fool, girl, it's obvious you have something in your mind. You aren't clumsy enough to hurt yourself like this. So, out with it. What is it?"
"I received a letter today." She could feel her aunt get still, blood rushing out of her face, leaving her pale as a ghost. Rose grimaced when the grip holding her hand got tighter all of a sudden. "From Hogwarts."
"No." Aunt Petunia whispered, her voice weaker than she had ever heard it. "Not you. Not that place. You will not." Her words came rushing out of her mouth, getting louder each time. She looked afraid.
"You know about it." She didn't ask. By her reaction it was obvious. "About the school. About Magic." She could not help the reverence she put in the word, it was magic.
"Don't say that WORD!" She screamed, looking around her in panic. Then she added in a harsh whisper. "Don't, not in public. They could be listening. Come, we'll talk inside." The hand gripping her started to pull, and Rose could only follow her aunt.
"They? Who are they? The letter said something like Order of Merlin or International confederation of Wizards. Do you mean them?"
"I told you to shut up! If they find out you talked about them in public, they'll come and make you forget, don't mention them!" Her aunt hissed, her pull getting stronger.
Soon enough, she had brought Rose to the dining room and, after closing every window and curtain, Aunt Petunia kneeled in front of her and grabbed her shoulders, her bony fingers gripping her tight, like the claws of a bird.
"Where is that letter? We'll burn it, we will not have that… that freakishness in this house." Rose squirmed in her grip, and Aunt Petunia realised and relaxed her hands, "I already lost your mother to them. Not you. You are mine. I took you in."
"My mother? Wasn't she a bum who died in a car crash?" Rose asked, anger started to burn in her heart. Was her mother like her, and had her aunt hidden it? "Did she go to Hogwarts? Was she Magical too?"
"Don't, Don't ask anything! My parents might have been idiots who would send their child to a crazy place like that, but not me. I will not let you go to learn about that unnatural world!"
Rose was unnerved, her aunt had never acted like this. She looked terrified.
"...but what if I want to?" she asked, voice as firm as she could make it. Her aunt stopped her rant and looked at her, surprise written on her face. "What if I want to learn about it? The world my mum lived in? I deserve to know." Aunt Petunia looked scared, scared for her, but she wanted -needed- to know more about her mum. About Magic. "You can't stop me from being what I am. I have to know."
Rose met her eyes, green facing blue ,trying to convey her seriousness. She never talked back to her aunt, but for this… she wouldn't give in.
Aunt Petunia looked at her, trying to find the words. To deny her? To allow her? Rose didn't know.
"...You'll have to say goodbye to everything you know. There's no coming back if you join them, they won't let you. You'll be just a witch. No more school, no more ballet." Rose froze, she loved ballet. "Lily was my sister and after getting that letter, I hardly spoke to her. Summer holidays and letters are all I got from her. She left us. And then died. Killed by one of their kind. Her and her husband."
Mum and dad were killed? Who… Who could have done it? Tears sprang from her eyes. Rose didn't understand, she had lived her whole life knowing her parents were gone, but now? Knowing that someone had taken them from her, had killed them? It hurt.
Even so… Even if it was dangerous, she felt that it was worth it.
The only thing that almost held her back was the ballet but in the end, even if it meant giving up her dancing, Rose wanted to be connected to her family more than she liked ballet.
"Even so, I want to know." Rose declared, and her aunt closed her eyes and sighed. "Please, please Aunt Petunia."
"...All right. Don't come back to me when you regret it." Her voice was cold but her eyes looked glassy, like she was holding back tears. "I don't know much about the school, only what Lily told your grandparents. Someone will have to come to explain things." Petunia's face was bitter, like the words she'd just said tasted like dung.
But she stood and a few moments later she was sitting next to Rose, a pen in her hand and a sheet of paper in front of them.
And so, Rose Potter and Petunia Dursley wrote the acceptance letter to Hogwarts, asking for a guide to accompany Rose to do the school shopping. And then waited. Later that day, an owl arrived from the window and Rose looked mystified as her aunt tied the letter to its claw.
Author's notes:
Hey there! Thank you so much for reading until here! It's my first time posting a story, so I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any questions, any critiques or whatever, feel free to review.
I had this swimming around my mind for a while and tried to make it as different as I could to the original story without going too AU.
As the story advances it will stray more and more from canon, but I wanted the first few chapters grounded on familiar territory so you don't have to think about it too much. Every different plot point from the original story that is important to the story, you will learn with Rose.
Again, thanks for reading, hope you have a nice day!
(Edited a missing sentence, nothing too important)