She was not just destructive, but weird. Luann groaned, cladded in inappropriate wear for any school meeting. She covered herself in satin, and answered the wall phone, "Luann." Her tone was dry and to the point until the Principal was convinced her 10 year old daughter was burping up bubbles. "Bubbles?" she snorted. "Okay, and how do you think she's doing that? You know, I am getting sick of this! I'm a single mother here trying to make a living and you are calling me about some nonsense! She's a child, maybe she drank-you don't think she drank the bubbles…put her on the phone."

Rosalin sat on the other end of line, happy as a pig in shit. With each hiccup a bubble floated from her mouth and popped in the air. Her little behind started to hover over the chair. Principal O'Brien gasped, and changed his mind. "Luann, perhaps you should pick her up instead, she isn't feeling so well."

"Mom!" Luann could hear in the background, "I'm floating. Do you think I'll toot one out, too? Ricky Katz is going to be so jealous!"

This was one of many occurrences; bubbles, things exploding, windows disappearing, the car driving itself. Luann knew she was up to something just to get attention. That is what that child psychologist said and Luann blindly believed it. Especially since Luann hardly ever had eyes on her. Though, her Uncle Bobby was convinced she exploded the gas pump with her eyes from the convenience store. It fried his truck to its very bare minimums.

Luann walked so furiously, you could hear her heels from the hallway. She was ready to give Rosalin, her precious child, a talking to that'd send them bubbles right back up her little behind. But when she entered the office, she saw nothing, but a little girl smiling back up at her. She sighed, and grabbed the girl by her arm, without paying the receptionist any attention. Once out the door, Luanna sighed, "there was a boy who died from drinking them bubbles!"

Rosalin grinned, "but mama, I didn't drink any bubbles!"

Luann paused and looked at her little girl, pursing her lips, a hand on her hips and the other fiddling the doorknob to her convertible, "mmhm. Is that so? Get in the front, you're as big as a twelve year old, Rosalin." The truth was the backseat was filled with junk papers, clothes, and things Rosalin needn't to see as a little girl.

"But, Mama!" she whined, climbing in. Her feet hardly touched the ground. "You never believe me! I didn't drink the damn bubbles." She paused, rubbing her tummy and boom! A long line of pink, blue, green bubbles popped from her mouth.

Luann reached over and rolled down the window, "you got that lyin' from your dad, that's for sure."

After a long appointment at the local clinic, Luann was at a loss for words when the doctor told her it was physically impossible to burp up soap, no matter the amount of bubble solution the girl downed. She glared at her happy child who was double fisting lollipops. "But she was in the car!" The doctor gave her a long look, before sighing and shutting his file.

"Mrs. Delaney," he said, pulling up his stool, "last month you came in because you claimed she was bouncing up and down the driveway. Perhaps it is not your daughter who needs an eval, but you."

"Mama's not lying," Rosalin said, forcing out a burp, but nothing came out. Just noise! "Hm…mama! They stopped."

"They sure fuckin' did, didn't they," she sighed, puling the girl from the office, "let's get lunch."

The summer leading up to Rosalin's 11th birthday, these mysterious occurrences increased. Jax and Opie, who were approaching their midteens, nearly wet their pants when the knives from the holder floated. "Stop doing that," Opie hissed at Jax, thinking the shorter boy was fooling around.

Jax shook his head, "Dude, I'm not…it's you!" The larger knife pointed straight to his forehead and he screamed this blood curdling scream that came from the deep pit of his belly. "Mom!"

Rosalin giggled from the dining table, EasyMac falling off her lip. The two boys slowly turned to her. With glee, she said, "watch this!" The knives slowly disintegrated into a pile of hard candy on the floor.

It did not make things better. In fact, it scared the two fifteen year old boys more. They both screamed, throwing their weed in the trash, "bro, what the hell? I thought you said this shit was pure-"

"It comes from Bobby-"

"What the hell," Gemma groaned, coming out of her bedroom, narrowing her eyes. Rosalin shrugged, rushing to pick up the colorful candies on the ground before the boys did. Luann would freak if Rosalin was eating processed mac and cheese, nevermind the candy fest she'd have in bed later that night.

"It's mine," she said, "I made it!"

Gemma looked over at the little girl, "oh yeah, and how did you do that?"

"Look!" She tried to focus really hard on the silverware in the sink, but nothing happened. "It isn't working-"

"Rosalin," Gemma sighed, pulling the girl away from the sink, wiping her mouth off. "How old will you be in a week?"

Rosalin puffed out her chest, "I'll be 11, Aunty!"

Gemma nodded, "exactly. Next year, you will be going to the big kid school, right?"

"Mmhm," she said, "I'm almost a teenager. Soon I'll grow boobs, mom said-"

"That's lovely," Gemma interrupted, a bit disgusted at the notion, "but Rosalin, don't you think it is time to stop the little games and act like a big girl?"

Rosalin frowned, "but, Aunty, I'm not-"

"Stop," she said, raising her finger, "you need to stop." Gemma took the candy and pushed it into her son's chest. The boy was shivering with fear, "take this to your room, it smells like a skunk bar in here."

"But, mom, she isn't lying!" Jax said, "there was a knife and then poof, candy!"

Gemma shook her head, "if you want to mess around with adult things, perhaps you should be able to handle its effects." She motioned the burnt roach on the ground. "Pick it up, we don't live in a barn."

Jax and Opie hadn't wanted to be around the little girl anymore than they had to. They raced up the stairs, not sparing her any glances. Rosalin started to feel lonely as one by one, everyone started to reject her curiosities. Even her mother, the one person who ever chose her. Luann was getting impatient with the child psychologists and the doctors. All she had ever wanted was a little girl just like her. Okay, maybe not just like her, but a girl who liked getting her nails done and was sassy. No one was giving her answers until one day, there was a knock on the door, and stood behind it was a tall woman who wore round, thin glasses.

Rosalin opened the door, blinking, "mama says I shouldn't open the door for scary men-"

The older woman grinned, "well, good thing I am not a man, right?"

Rosalin thought for a moment, humming before shrugging, "I guess. Well, what do you want?"

Her long, dark green cloak magically slipped from her thin shoulders and hung on the coat rack that Luann typically used for junk. Underneath, she was clad in a velour dress decorated with jeweled buttons. Rosalin had never seen a woman with so much covered skin. "It's hot as balls outside-"

The woman interrupted, "we'll fix that-"

"What?"

"Your language," she said, pursing her lips, digging into her pocket and pulling out a letter. Rosalin noted fancy handwriting scribbled with her first name and an unfamiliar last name. She went to grab it, but the woman pulled away, "where is your guardian?"

Rosalin hummed, looking out the back. Her mom was sunbathing, practically baking her skin into leather. "She's on mommy time. That means we don't bother her."

"And how long does mommy time take?"

"Depends, sometimes hours!"

"And who watches you?"

"Mama says I'm a big girl now! I can microwave my own leftovers and wipe my own ass."

"Splendid," she sighed, pushing her way in and looked at herself in the mirror, making sure her hair was still perfectly neat in a tight bun. "Well, go on then, I need your mother."

Luann rushed in when Rosalin said there was a woman in the parlor and immediately asked what her business was. Otto had kept guns throughout the home, but for the life of her, Luann couldn't remember where! The older woman took a seat and pulled out a wooden stick. It was engraved with beautiful details. At the end of it came tea pots and little cups. Rosalin, who had been experiencing weird occurrences for years, was delighted. Luann, however, nearly passed out, holding onto the kitchen island.

"Mama, look!" Rosalin pointed, "cakes!" She went straight for the pastries while her mother went straight for the opened wine bottle. With a little powder and jam spotting around her cheeks, she said,"I turned kitchenware into sweets last week, but my aunty said I was going crazy."

"Did you?" the woman smiled, "what else have you done?" There was a long list, most normal and some concerning. Minerva introduced herself as Professor McGonagall before standing and walking over to Luann. "We should talk in private." Luann shakingly took the letter, her eyes skimming over it.

"I stopped the crack pipe years ago, lady-"

"Sure you have, come," she said, taking Luann into her gazebo outside. It smelled foul. Just like skunk! "Shh, shh," she eased. Luann was breathing at rapid rates. What cruel joke was this? She wished Otto had been there to settle this lady.

"What is this nonsense-"

"It's a school," Minerva eased gently, "for children like Rosalin."

Luann straightened, and looked over the letter once more, "and I'm supposed to let you just take her halfway around the world! How can I believe you? It is nonsense. This bullshit doesn't exist-"

"There is a school here," she agreed, "but Rosalin is on our registry-"

Luann raised her finger, "you think I am concerned about schools? I'm still processing the fact a stranger is claiming by daughter possesses some-"

"You did not legally adopt Rosalin," Minerva claimed, "and therefore, she is on our registry. Henceforth, she is enrolled and must attend. Quite honestly, you should consider yourself lucky that Rosalin's father and mother are deceased, and neither have appropriate family members to claim the little one. Or you'd have a much bigger issue than this on your hands, now…." Minerva, perhaps illegally, put a little charm on the woman so that she could process the information with more ease.

For witches and wizards to cross borders, special permission had to be granted. Rosalin was a special case, and the headmaster had to pull strings. Rosalin would have to travel through a portkey to New York City, where she would then take another portkey to London. As a muggle, Luann was not permitted without the company of another wizard. Luann felt deep in her stomach she wasn't buying any of this, but had little power to object. Rosalin, on the other hand, was just excited to ride a train!

~.~

Minerva traveled with the little girl to London before making a stop at Diagon alley. "Too bad Mama couldn't come," she noted. Minerva hummed and sighed, noting that once her mother could act rationally, she would be rewarded with her memories.

"Now, Rosalin," Minerva smiled, getting a real good look at the girl's face. She had her mum's smile, but her dad's eyes and hair. She was a Black, there was no question about it. "We will shop for your very own wand-"

"The stick!"

She sighed, "yes, the stick, as you say. But, here, we call it a wand."

Rosalin giggled, "mama has a wand, too, but she says I can't touch that-"

"Yes, okay, I'm sure that woman has many things you shouldn't touch," she agreed, "but please, we will get your wand and your books!"

"You said I can get a pet," the little girl noted, "when can I get that?"

"After you get your school supplies!"

Minerva never had to deal with such an energetic, bossy, stubborn, and annoying little girl. She looked like her father, but was definitely not Regulus. Perhaps a bit of her Uncle Sirius. Her mother and father on the other hand were quiet and obedient. Once the little girl got her wand, she started to wave it, "wah! Wah!" Minerva quickly grabbed it and held it.

"You mustn't do that! Keep it close and do not wave it like a buffoon!"

Rosalin got so many new things, the pile over took her and she wobbled down the alley. Minerva hadn't thought out what to do with the girl after. Going home would have been a hassle and revisiting that wretched woman who wore too much make up and smelled of cheap perfume did not sound appealing. In fact, Minerva thought it would be best to get her accompanied with children like her. Most importantly, into a safe environment. To a small Burrow in Devon they went. She'd be Gryffindor, for sure, Minerva thought.