November 1994

Father had asked us to meet him at the Hog's Head Inn, an establishment not known for cleanliness or friendly staff. He chose one of their especially dirty and moldy rooms, and even though the sunlight managed to come through the windows, it struggled to clear the dust particles floating in the air. The room felt eerie, like it was set up for a ghostly appearance.

I had no idea as to why my father would choose this place. It was practically a haven for dust and grime, so much so that the floor's surface was hardly distinguishable under all of the accumulated dirt. I thought maybe he made a mistake. A simple slip-up, maybe. When he'd Floo-in he would realize the silly error, and we would all have a good laugh about it.

Theodore and I were sitting in complete silence, we were seated on their probably most wobbly wooden chairs, circling around a rugged-looking table. On the table, which neither of us dared touch, were chipped teacups and a large, well-used kettle. The room was cold and musty and had a lingering smell of farm animals.

The beaten-up fireplace flickered with a sudden burst of flame, revealing our father as he emerged from it. He brushed off his coat, emitting a small cough while a trail of dust followed him.

"Well, well, I seem to have forgotten the extent of the dust here," he remarked, his tone of someone who was familiar with the place.

Both my brother and I leaped to our feet simultaneously, an accidental agreement to welcome our father. The glances we exchanged were completely void of any emotion and we continued ignoring one another. Father eased into the vacant chair, his eyes lighting up with a warm smile as he looked at us. His choice of this location suddenly made sense, a means to have a private conversation away from prying eyes. That realization only deepened my concern.

''Rosalie, my dear, why don't you tell me all about this Tournament? I want to hear your perspective,'' Father's face showed only curiosity, with no other feelings apparent. Was he just asking without any hidden meaning, did he really want to know?

''Oh Father, I don't know where to begin.'', I began, feeling both uncertainty and eagerness. ''I never thought I'd be selected, to be honest, I entered on a whim.''

''On a whim?'', he echoed, his hands busy pouring tea for each of us. ''I can't say I'm shocked. It doesn't require a mystical goblet to see your potential and talent, my dear daughter,'', he chuckled.

To say I was stunned would be an understatement. I took the teacup from his hand, pretending to be deeply interested in it in order to avoid making contact with either of them.

''And Theodore, has the school been treating you kindly?'', he asked, offering him a cup as well. ''Professor Snape informed me that you successfully brewed a Wit-Sharpening potion. Maybe next time you could share some of it with your old man,'', he chuckled softly to himself.

Theodore shifted uncomfortably in his seat before replying, ''Yes, Father. School's been fine. Potions have been... interesting.'' He took a sip of his tea, his gaze fixed on the cup rather than meeting our father's eyes.

''Did you hear that, Rosalie? Perhaps we have a future potioneer or healer in the family,'' Father pondered with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Theodore responded with a slight smile, while I arched an eyebrow in skepticism.

Father's words hung in the air for a moment.

''Rosalie, Theodore,'' his voice took on a somber tone. ''There's something I've come to learn in my age.'' he hesitated. ''In this world, you'll find that the only constant you can truly rely on is each other.''

I exchanged a glance with Theodore, we both looked uneasy at the turn of the conversation. Father's words held a certain weight, which remained unspoken.

''Your mother,'' he continued, a soft smile gracing his features. ''She would be immensely proud of the strong individuals you've become, of the bond you share.''

A quiet settled over us as we absorbed his words. The mention of our mother brought in a feeling of longing, a bittersweet ache.

''We do miss her,'' Theodore finally spoke.

He nodded, his gaze distant as he seemed lost in his own memories. ''As do I, my boy.''

''Father, is...'' I stopped for a moment, uncertain about my next words. ''Are you well?''

He didn't answer. With a lingering look at both of us, he rose from his seat. His expression held a mixture of emotions—affection, pride, and perhaps a hint of regret. He walked towards the fireplace, the dancing flames casting flickering shadows on the worn walls of the room.

''I must be on my way,'' he said, his voice now carrying a touch of formality. ''Rely on each other. That is a gift not everyone is fortunate enough to possess.''

''We'll do our best,'' I said quietly.

He took one last look at us, ''You two have always been the strength of our family,'' and with those words still hanging in the air, he disappeared into the emerald fire.

We stood in silence for Merlin knows how long. After I'd finally managed to gather myself enough, I took a step toward my brother.

''Theo, I—'' I began, my voice wavering slightly.

''Nothing's changed, Rosalie.''

His words hit me like a hammer, leaving me speechless for a moment. I watched as he turned away, his steps brisk as he swiftly left the room.

—

My furious scream likely echoed all the way from the inn's door to the castle. I stormed towards the gate, my anger fueling each step, while I tightly gripped onto my teacup, my knuckles almost matching its ivory hue, the chip on it cutting deep into my skin.

''Rose, what the—'', Graham was already running towards me, Amelia barely a step behind him.

I became aware of the small ceramic hurting in my clutched hand and chucked the teacup against the stone fence with all my might. It shattered into pieces with a loud crash, making it sound like my own anger breaking apart. The broken bits were scattered around, and I just stared at them.

I squatted down, my bloodied fingers touching the sharp edges. I pulled out my wand and whispered a spell. The broken teacup started to come back together, the cracks disappearing like they were never there, leaving a chip on its edge looking out of place. I stood up, holding the teacup that looked whole again, even though everything inside me felt like a mess. I gently put it down on the stone, and I couldn't stop the tears anymore. I knelt beside the fence, crying like my heart was as broken as the smashed teacup.

They slowly sat down next to me and Graham placed a gentle hand on my back. ''We're here.''

Amelia put an arm around me, ''It's okay, let it out.''

—

They somehow convinced me to go along with them to the Three Broomsticks, where Amelia's brother was waiting. As we strolled towards the inn, I found some relief in taking slow, deep breaths, as if trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me.

Theo and I never got into big fights. Honestly, even at that moment, our disagreement felt like it lacked a clear cause, our clash seemed more about both of us not wanting to admit that our standoff was pointless. I had been letting out my frustration by shouting mainly because I couldn't find the right words to say.

I lost in thought and it was as if the cold November air had crept its way into my neck, leaving a faint shiver. And then, out of nowhere, a realization hit me:

My scarf.

I had left it at the Inn during the drunken celebration of my birthday. After repeatedly ransacking our room, wrongly accusing Meredith of swiping it, and attempting to enlist all of Hogwarts' house elves in a search for a scarf marked with the initials MD, I had an epiphany: I had set it down on the bar.

With a newfound sense of purpose, I strode forward. It was just a scarf, an object that could have been easily replaced, as there was nothing unique about it – not the stitching, nor the green and silver stripes.

But it was Maggie's, a scarf I had borrowed and conveniently forgotten to give back. Draping it over my shoulders felt like keeping a small part of her final days at school close to me. In my somewhat irrational thinking, I believed that finding this scarf might magically prompt her to respond to the letters I had sent, letters that had gone unanswered ever since the unfortunate loss of the said accessory. It sounded silly, I knew, yet a part of me clung to this hope.

Entering the cozy interior of the Inn, a wave of warmth greeted us, wrapping around like a comforting embrace. The soft creak of the polished wooden floor echoed beneath our steps as we made our way toward a table where Felix Rosier was sitting. Catching sight of us approaching, his face lit up with enthusiasm, prompting him to rise from his seat.

''Melly-kins!'' Felix's cheerful voice rang out as he enveloped Amelia in a twirl. ''I've missed you, you little troll,'' he added with a grin, Graham and I snickered at the nickname — Amelia despised being called anything but proper name.

Felix's attention shifted to Graham and me, ''And look at you two! Graham, you must stop sneaking those growing potions. You're getting taller by the day,'' his eyes then turned to me. ''Ah, Rose, our champion! If Salazar himself could witness this, I dare say he'd be brought to tears.''

''So, just one of your classic Salazar wet dreams, isn't it Fi-fi?'', Amelia replied.

Despite being siblings, Amelia and Felix couldn't have been more different in their Hogwarts pursuits and interests. Felix Rosier, driven by an unwavering pride in Slytherin house and his role as a prefect, embodied the essence of a cunning and ambitious student. He thrived on upholding the house's legacy, fully embracing its values, and excelling academically, as he actively fostered unity among house members and sought to uphold its reputation.

Meanwhile, Amelia was all about the social scene at school. While Felix was busy flirting with the Slytherin colors, Amelia preferred guys and wasn't about to be stopped because of something as frivolous as house rivalry. House traditions? Intense competition and prestige? She preferred the good vibes.

I seized the opportunity for a quick escape, hoping to distract myself. ''If you'll excuse me for a moment, I just need to check on something. How about a round for everyone?'' I offered, already halfway on my way to the bar.

I approached Madam Rosmerta, a blend of desperation and hope in my eyes as I quickly spilled out my situation. She listened and with a sympathetic nod, promised to look into it, she then disappeared into the depths behind the bar.

Finally, Madam Rosmerta emerged, her hand extending towards me with an object that momentarily ignited a spark of optimism. As I took hold of it, reality settled in—the colors were blue and bronze, a reminder that nothing good came that easy.

''Sorry, dear,'' she offered a sympathetic pat on my shoulder before returning to her business.

In an effort to not look like a sour child, I forced down the sour taste of disappointment that had risen in my throat.

''Looking for this?'' A voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, accompanied by the sensation of a scarf being gently draped around my exposed neck. The touch was strangely familiar.

''Settle down, settle down,'' Felix's voice rang out, his attention directed at Graham., ''Oi, Weasley! Get over here and meet my sister.''

Weasley?! Surely not...

My head snapped around, my eyes widening in disbelief as if expecting my eyes to deceive me. But there he stood, my unlikely hero once again, the one who had wrapped the scarf around my neck with ease and familiarity – Charlie. A Weasley.

And there he was, managing to hold an impressive six pints all at once.

''Thanks.''

I must have looked like a grindylow out of the water. He was a Weasley, a family I was taught to distance myself from, a name that carried an air of notoriety in our household. And yet, it was his face that had become a lifeline for me, again.

We took our seats, my mind shifting from the initial shock to a strange sort of realization. Of course, life had to throw me another bludger.

Graham, always the sociable one when the company wasn't solely composed of girls for a change, broke the silence. ''Whoah, Felix. You didn't tell us you were friends with an actual legend.''

I shook my head, my thoughts still a bit hazy. ''What?''

''So you know how Krum is like a once-in-a-generation kind of player?'', Graham continued, ''Weasley here could've made him run for the spiky bushes. How do you not remember him? I made you both watch the games!''

''She was too busy fawning over Flint, I believe,'', Amelia added with a grin.

I felt a twinge of annoyance at the mention of Flint, but I decided to let it slide. After all, Amelia was just trying to lighten the mood, plus I was twelve at that time.

''What can I say, Graham? I like to have friends in high-up places,'', Felix replied wiggling his eyebrows.

''Come now, Felix, up till now you'd say I'm your coworker at best,'', Charlie said.

My irritation momentarily shifted as I processed Charlie's words. They were colleagues? My mind raced to connect the dots, trying to make sense of it. ''Coworker? You two work together?'''

''Well, not exactly, but we're in the same branch,'', Felix replied, his gaze locking onto mine as he winked, as if there was an unspoken message he wanted me to understand. Felix was a Dragonologist, and so was Charlie.

Oh no.

A wave of nausea swept over me. My heart raced, and my mind became a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.

No, no, no.

Without uttering a word, my movements driven purely by shock, I stood up abruptly from the table and made a beeline for the exit.

''Hey, Nott. I just wanna say that you didn't look constipated at all, and you're carrying the weight admirably.'', Katie Bell's voice chimed in, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She had just entered the inn and stood near the doorway.

''Piss off, Bell. You look like your parents are related by more than marriage.'' The words were out before I could think, on a better day I probably could've come back with something wittier.

I stumbled out of the inn, the fresh air hitting me like a shock to my system. My steps were unsteady as I made my way to a nearby bush, and the next thing I knew, I was retching.

So that's what rock bottom feels like.

As I tried to steady myself, I sat down as far from the bush as I could. Wiping my mouth, my wand found its way into my trembling hand. Fumbling slightly, I conjured a small stream of water.

A voice from behind caught me off guard. ''You know, I puked when I saw one for the first time.'' Charlie's calm tone cut through the chaos, and I turned to see him seating himself on the cold ground beside me. His expression held a mix of sympathy and understanding

''How the actual fuck am I supposed to fight a Dragon?'' I whispered the last word. ''And seriously, isn't this some kind of breach of the holy secrecy? Do you Gryffindors hold nothing sacred?''

''To keep anything quiet in that castle? By tomorrow, the whole school will probably know,'' he replied, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. ''Besides, I think it's impressive that you caught on. Your friends still seem blissfully unaware.''

He had a valid point. I had stumbled upon this revelation by pure luck.

''You don't have to fight it,'' he said, his tone surprisingly matter-of-fact, cutting through the panic that had settled in me.

I shot him a glare.

''Yes, you're right. I'll just have a little chat with the dragon, you know, ask it politely not to rip me into a pile of ribbons.''

His laughter was unexpected, and I found myself joining in despite the nerves that had been gnawing at me.

''I have a feeling you'll figure it out just fine,'' he said before continuing. ''Besides, we'll be there to see you through. I'll be there.''

Charlie's smile softened, and he reached out to gently touch my cheek, his fingers warm against my skin. I leaned into his touch.

''Do you usually go around comforting sad vulnerable girls, or am I supposed to feel special?''

As quickly as his hand had reached my cheek, he withdrew it, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.

''I'm sorry, I—'' Charlie began, his words slightly stumbling.

''Relax, Weasley. I was just trying to see if the reputation of Gryffindor charm held any water,'' I smirked.

A genuine laugh escaped him, ''I'll have you know, our charm is as legendary as our bravery.''

I gave him a mockingly impressed look. ''Ah, a Gryffindor's two most prized possessions – bravery and charm.''

Charlie smiled and rolled his eyes, regaining his composure. ''Well, you Slytherins do have your ways too. Cunning and ambition?''

I leaned back, feigning innocence. ''Oh, absolutely. But it's refreshing to see how the other half lives.''

We shared a comfortable moment of silence.

''Alright, Rose the Slytherin, I think we've had our fill of dragon talk for one day,'' Charlie remarked, pushing himself off the ground with a stretch. ''But if you ever find yourself in need of more dragon-related insights, you know where to find me.''

I grinned. "Dully noted. Expect some owl post soon."

"Looking forward to it."

I followed him back toward the Three Broomsticks.

—

On Sunday, I spent the entire day thinking about whether I should tell Potter about what I found out. On Monday I finally decided I had to. It wouldn't be right to let a kid walk into danger without at least a warning. So, during breakfast, I made up my mind. I finished eating quickly and left the Great Hall. I figured I'd find the fourth-year Gryffindor, probably on his way to class.

But tracking him wasn't easy. I tried to follow him after breakfast, but I lost him somewhere along the way. This continued throughout the day. I left my own classes quickly, hoping to catch him during his free periods. Graham somehow managed to get me the Gryffindors' schedule, which helped.

By the afternoon, I was getting desperate. I rushed out of the Alchemy classroom, leaving before the class was over. I turned a corner, thinking about my plan. I had to figure out how to catch Potter near the Divination classroom, which meant climbing three flights of stairs. I wanted to surprise him before he could escape again.

To my surprise, when I turned the corner, I practically collided with Potter.

''Potter.''

''Nott.''

We stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence.

''It's—,'' I began, but he interrupted.

''Dragons,'' he stated plainly.

''Yes. Dragons,'' I agreed.

We locked eyes again, neither of us saying anything for a while. Then, without any further words, we both turned away and went our separate ways.