Blood Magic was a powerful but tricky thing. Its illegality was predominately due to the fact that it required a sacrifice of some kind, namely blood, which is transmuted into raw magic power. Generally, then, the more blood used, the more powerful the magic. Naturally, this can be extrapolated to fuel very powerful magicks at the ultimate cost of human life and was thusly outlawed. However, somewhat paradoxically, the more complex a ritual, or spell, the less useful Blood Magic becomes. This was because blood, by its very nature as the essence of life, is somewhat sentient. Of course, that is not to say it has intelligence or personality. It merely sets out to do whatever had been tasked with. Unlike other magicks, however, which have specific sets of rules it must follow, else the magic will fail, Blood Magic has no such restrictions. It simply works, often using methods that are not always known to the caster and, as such, sometimes unpredictable. Failure is only achieved when whatever task assigned cannot be accomplished with the amount of blood sacrificed, and so it follows that the more complex the task, the more complex the solution, and therefore the more power, and blood, needed. This makes Blood Magic more useful for some situations than others. Killing someone, for example, is easy. There are many ways to accomplish this, often incredibly quickly and simply, making blood magic especially popular among Dark Witches and Wizards looking to engage in violence.
However, this is in stark contrast to something as nebulous a goal as, say, protection. Protection from what? Spells? Dark spells or just spells meant to harm, Dark or Light? What if a spell is not traditionally used to harm but could be used as such? Should the protection merely protect, or should it also retaliate? What if the oncoming spell was accidental, should it still retaliate? What about physical protection? Weapons are easy enough to ward off, but what about less apparent methods, like poison? What about things that technically cause pain, but aren't actually harmful? Should a friendly punch on the shoulder be warded off? Should tripping be prevented? What about emotional protection? How could any one spell or ritual possibly protect someone from every possible harm that could conceivably befall them?
All this and more had to be considered when using Blood Magic for such purposes, making the magic costs alone for even a basic ward nigh impossible, much less an all-encompassing one.
And yet, Albus Dumbledore thought to himself in amazement as he looked down at the infant girl in his arms. Lily Potter managed it anyway. He did not know how. He had lived for a great many years, far longer than most, and was well-versed in many fields of magic, including Blood Magic. Despite this, he could not even fathom how Lily Potter, as talented a witch she was, had managed to create the Blood Ward he detected surrounding the child. At most he guessed that her own death had been used as a catalyst to snap the ward into place, but such a sacrifice, as noble as it was, would not nearly be enough to fuel such a powerful ward, not even if she had somehow used James' death as well. And a powerful ward it was, for it seemed to protect the girl from most harm, both magical and physical, not that he tested it extensively.
Still, he was worried. Such a ward couldn't possibly last long, and despite what the newspapers were claiming, he was certain Voldemort was still out there, and that he would be back. Not to mention all the Death Eaters still running loose. The poor girl would need its protection in the coming years, and without it, she would be vulnerable. After many hours of deliberating the problem, however, he had come up with a solution. While he did not know the exact inner workings of the Blood Ward, he was certain he could add in a slight modification which could be used to recharge it. The ward was based in Lily's blood and created through her love of the girl, so he would place her with Lily's sister and extend the Ward to cover their household. Then, with a few tweaks here and there, as long as the young girl resided in the house, the familial love of her blood relatives could be used to restore the ward to full power. It was not a perfect solution, but he was quite proud of it if he was honest with himself.
With a plan firmly in mind, he set the girl, Rose, he reminded himself, gently down in the baby basket next to him before raising his wand and getting to work.
Dumbledore's reasoning was fundamentally flawed from the onset. Firstly, and most importantly, there was no love in the Dursley family. Lily did not love her sister, and Petunia did not love Lily. Neither would she love Rose, nor Rose, her. Second, the Blood Ward was never meant to protect anyone but Rose. Extending it over the Dursley household would not only lessen its ability to adequately protect Rose, but it would also force it to protect those in the household apart from her. This was unacceptable to it and fought viciously against Dumbledore's modifications, but he was powerful, the Elder Wand he wielded even more so, and it was already low on power from reflecting the Killing Curse just a day earlier. It withstood his charms for as long as it could but ultimately fell to his machinations.
He also failed to grasp the true extent of the genius that went into making the ward. The Blood Ward already had a method to sustain itself, though he may have realized this had he spent more time studying it. This method was simply to pull from Rose's magic, as well as the surrounding ambient magic if there was any. This was a slow process, (though not as slow as the method Dumbledore imposed would have been, had it worked at all. Creating magic from as nebulous a concept as love was possible, but not very efficient.) and also decelerated Rose's own magical recovery while it was charging, less so if she was in a magically dense atmosphere, but this was a negligible downside given the benefits. This process, fortunately, was the only reason the Ward managed to keep itself from collapsing mere days after its corruption.
Even after Dumbledore imposed his modifications, the Ward continued fighting to return to its original state but never made any progress. It was a continuous cycle of attempts to pull itself away from the house to return solely to Rose followed by periods of rest to recover its charge, but Dumbledore's magic held it firmly in place no matter how many attempts it made to break free. Perhaps given enough time, it could have worn away Dumbledore's meddling and returned to its natural state, but it had only barely begun that long journey when the abuse started.
Her desperate cries for attention were at first ignored, then punished. The amount of food given to her shrunk as time went on until only scraps were thrown her way. Asking questions and talking back (or even speaking in general) was discouraged, then disallowed altogether. Chores were given as she grew older, from cleaning the house to scrubbing the bathrooms, weeding the gardens, and, when she was tall enough to reach the stove (provided she was given a stool), cooking for the family. The punishments themselves for shortcomings in any of these tasks, from missing a weed or two, forgetting to dust the counters, or even burning herself on the stove, also grew disproportionately. First, an angry lecture to furious shouting, then a light smack on the head to hard slaps across the cheek. When they tired of her completely, she was shoved into a small cupboard and forgotten about, leading to days spent in the dark, alone and starving.
Blood could not feel. It had no emotion and could do naught but what it had been assigned to it, but Lily was a powerful, unusual witch, whose love for her daughter knew no bounds. Her Blood reflected this, and so it raged on, seething at the treatment of its charge, forced to protect her abusers, unable to fulfill its only purpose. Its efforts at stripping away Dumbledore's charms redoubled, draining Rose's magic further, ironically improving her situation, as her fear-induced magic outburst decreased, and so did her punishments. But Rose was young and had hardly any magic to pull from, nor was there any ambient magic in Privet Drive to draw from either. It could not muster the force to even scratch Dumbledore's modifications. Without another source of magic to draw from, it could do nothing.
And eventually, it found one.
Rose had been excited for school when she learned of its existence, all too eager to get away from the house she lived in for any amount of time, however, it soon proved to be little more than another opportunity for punishment. She could not do too well, or too badly: one made her cousin look bad, the other, her family as a whole, and both were punished. She could not participate too eagerly, for she was called a nuisance to the class by Dudley, regardless of whether the teachers agreed, and was punished. Neither could she be too quiet, or it would draw said teachers' concern, and bring unwanted questions to her Aunt and Uncle, prompting even harsher punishment.
Recess was little more than a time to run from Dudley and his crew. They caught her oft as not and spent the time shoving her to the ground, hitting and kicking her, out of view of any teachers. There was a small bit of mercy here, as the Blood Ward could not protect her from Dudley, but it could protect her from his friends. It did so subtly, letting the blows connect, but causing minimum damage, so as not to draw attention to any unnaturalness that could be cause for punishment from her Aunt and Uncle. Of course, little Rose did not notice this through her pain and fear.
It was during the fourth day in a row of a particularly brutal beating during this time that a discovery was made. The Blood Ward was always low on charge due to its efforts to reverse Dumbledore's meddling as well as a shortage of magic to draw from; however, this was not a particular hindrance as it could not do anything to protect Rose from her primary source of harm anyway. Dudley's friends' tiny fists were usually negligible, but it was rare that Rose was unable to evade them for the duration of recess for multiple days in a row. The second day had just been unlucky, but a harsh kick to the leg by Dudley had made escaping the next day nearly impossible, and the boys' excitement at their good luck had made them even crueler in their assault, even more so the next day.
The Ward was running on fumes. It had already taken the majority of Rose's diminishing magic reserves, and while depleting its charge entirely would not destroy the Ward, it would no longer be able to draw upon any magic to recharge itself even if there was a source of it, and would require an outside force to jumpstart it. The only one around who could do so was little Rose, who knew nothing of it. It was not precisely aware of what exactly would happen, only that letting itself deplete would be catastrophic. Just as it was about to cease protecting Rose to conserve power (something it hated with every modicum of feeling it was capable of) it noticed something. A parasite hitched to Rose's magic, so small it would have never been noticed had both the Ward and Rose not been low on magic. The Blood did not know, was not capable of knowing what it was, or what it did. Only that it was made of magic.
It immediately attacked with every intention of consuming this parasite's magic, not knowing if it even could, but trying anyway. Instantly, it felt resistance. Whatever this parasite was, if fought back ferociously, any attempts to steal its magic were deflected and retaliated. The Ward severely underestimated the parasite and its attack was quickly switched to defense, and rapidly depleted what little charge it had left. The parasite then tried to do exactly what the Ward had done, and consume it.
That proved to be a mistake, as what followed was not a battle of magic, but a battle of will. For the parasite was none other than a Horcrux, a fragment of the soul of Tom Riddle. A man who spent decades using Dark spells and rituals to warp and twist himself beyond imaginations, and yet a man who, at his core, remained nothing more than a boy motivated by an abstract fear of death.
Against nothing less than the pure, unbridled determination to protect a mother's little girl.
The battle was reversed once again as the Blood tore into the soul of Tom Riddle, tearing down everything that made him who he was until there was nothing left but a blank piece of soul, unable to resist as the Blood inserted itself into the soul in order to make use of the valuable magic.
And then the Blood became more than just blood, and the soul was remade, creating something new entirely, with a singular purpose.
Rose.
As for little Rose, she had no idea of any of what was going on inside her. All she knew was that, as she was cowering on the ground while Dudley and his gang taunted and kicked, her head suddenly erupted in unimaginable pain, worse than when Dudley kicked her in the chest, worse than when Aunt Petunia hit her in the head with a frying pan, worse than when Uncle Vernon shoved her into a glass cabinet, cutting her up all over. She let out an ear-piercing scream so suddenly that the boys surrounding her all froze in surprise, and were all disturbed when the lightning bolt-shaped scar on her forehead suddenly split itself open, blood spilling profusely onto her face.
They quickly wizened up, though, and bolted in several directions, not wanting to be caught when a teacher inevitably came to check what was going on, as happened moments later when a young teacher rounded the corner. She gasped in horror and rushed to Rose, who was thrashing on the ground, screaming as if hell had risen and tried to calm her down so she could get her to the nurse's office, but Rose couldn't hear her over the pain in her head or even notice she'd arrived. The teacher was about to give up and go fetch some help when she abruptly stopped screaming, just before her head fell back and she lost consciousness.
Now that she was no longer thrashing, the teacher was able to get her to the nurse's office, where they contacted her guardians while the nurse examined her. Petunia was furious that the Freak had made such a scene, and had only barely managed to fast-talk the school officials out of calling an ambulance by placating them with assurances that she would take the Girl to the hospital herself. She was hard-pressed to keep her face in a worried frown rather than an angry scowl, especially when she saw the Girl covered in her own blood and packed her into the back seat, not bothering to put a seatbelt over her. She drove straight home and carried the Girl inside as quickly as she could, wary of any neighbor who might see. She immediately tossed her unconscious body into the cupboard before going to call Vernon at his work. He was going to be livid.
"Wake up, Rose."
She stirred slightly, groaning when her head pounded painfully. It felt like Uncle Vernon hit her over the head with a baseball bat. She kept her eyes screwed shut and pulled her pillow (a ragged old thing, filled with holes and no pillowcase,) over her head as she tried to go back to sleep.
A small giggle. "None of that, now. Your stomach's empty. You need to eat."
As if to prove a point, Rose's stomach growled ferociously at that moment, prompting her to remove her head from the pillow and lift herself up into a sitting position. She let out a long yawn, rubbing her eyes. She didn't bother opening them at first (it was pointless, her cupboard was filled with nothing but darkness,) but when she reached for the door to push it open, they shot open in surprise when she found it firmly shut. She stared at nothing for a moment, then pushed again only to achieve the same result. It wasn't that it was locked that surprised her, no, that was very much the norm, but rather that it was still locked when she was asked to do something. The Dursleys could be pretty unreasonable, but even they couldn't expect her to do anything from inside her cupboard. Then she frowned, running over the task she'd been given in her mind again, (she was so used to just doing whatever was asked of her, she hardly ever thought about what she was doing,) and realized that it didn't sound much like anything the Dursleys would ask of her at all.
"Of course not," she heard, the tone rather offended. "I'm nothing like them."
Rose blinked in surprise. She looked around, but there was nothing to see. She had no idea where the voice was coming from.
"You wouldn't find me even if you could see."
Rose hesitated, then cautiously asked quietly, "Where are you, then?"
"In your head," the voice answered. "Where else would I be?"
Rose had heard that hearing voices in her head was a sign of insanity, and briefly wondered if that meant that she was crazy before deciding that it didn't matter. She was about to ask something else when her stomach rumbled again, accompanied by the familiar ache of hunger.
"You really do need to eat. Get up and get some food, alright?" the voice suggested kindly.
"But the door's locked," Rose replied, her voice still quiet so she didn't disturb the Durselys. "Besides, I'm not allowed to eat what I'm not given."
A sudden, red-hot flash of anger surged through her, which was very odd since she wasn't at all angry. But quick as it came, it was gone, leaving a puzzled Rose.
"I don't care about their insufferable rules," the voice snarled, startling Rose, but before it could frighten her it continued in a much kinder tone. "Just open the door, alright? I'll make sure you're safe. I promise."
A strange feeling filled Rose. She wasn't quite sure what it was. No one ever promised her… well, anything. (She didn't count Uncle Vernon's promises of 'a beating of a lifetime.' He promised that quite often, and they couldn't all be the beating of a lifetime.) It made her feel… Strange. But still…
"How?" Rose asked. "It's locked."
"Magic," the voice answered simply.
Rose flinched violently, a feeling she knew quite well replacing anything previous. Her head whipped around to stare at where she knew the door was as if she expected it to open any second with Uncle Vernon on the other side.
"We're not allowed to use that word," she whispered anxiously to the voice.
Some kind of… warmth seemed to seep into her, batting away the fear inside of her, slowly forcing it to subside.
"It's alright," the voice said gently. "He can't hear me. No one can. Only you."
Whatever was happening worked, and Rose gradually began to calm. It didn't help the confusion, though, because the Dursleys made it clear that there was no such thing as magic.
"And why would you trust them about anything?" the voice asked, and Rose had to admit it had a point. The Dursleys lied about all sorts of things, and to all kinds of people, not just her. "No, magic is quite real." The voice continued. "You have it. You can use it to unlock the door."
"But how?" Rose asked. "I don't know how to use…" she glanced anxiously back toward the door, then lowered her voice even further. "...magic."
"Just try," the voice answered unhelpfully. "Focus on the door, and how you want it to be unlocked."
Rose frowned but did as it asked. After a moment or two of concentrating the voice said, "Now try opening it."
Her frown deepened because it didn't seem much like magic if you could just think about stuff and it would happen, then she paused and realized that sounded a whole lot like magic. Regardless, when she moved to open it, the cupboard door stayed firmly shut.
"See?" Rose said with a strange mix of smug disappointment.
"Don't give up just yet, sweetheart. This time try to-"
Only Rose wasn't listening because her mind came to a grinding halt as soon as she heard the word 'sweetheart.'
"Rose?"
No one had ever called her sweetheart before. That was one of those pet names parents use on their children. Like how Aunt Petunia called Dudley pumpkin or snookums, though she usually just stuck with Dudders. The only name she ever got was freak.
"Oh, Rose."
The word ran through her head again and again, that strange feeling from before returning with a vengeance. She desperately wanted to hear it again, but she didn't dare ask-
"Sweetheart."
Rose jolted, her eyes widening.
"Sweetheart, sweetie, darling, love, baby. You're all these things and more to me, and from now on you'll hear them so often you'll be sick of them."
Rose's heart was beating fast and tears were filling up her eyes for reasons she didn't quite understand and she furiously wiped at her eyes in an attempt to make them stop.
"It's okay," the voice said gently. "It's okay to cry."
Rose shook her head, sniffling uncontrollably. "M'not allowed to cry."
Another flash of anger shot through her, but she barely noticed through her own turbulent emotions.
"You are," the voice insisted. "Their rules don't mean anything. It's night. They're sleeping. They won't hear. And if they do? I'll protect you."
Rose sniffed. "You promise?"
"With all my heart."
With that Rose couldn't hold back her tears any longer and they poured onto her cheeks. Still conscious of the sound, she fell back onto her dirty pillow and sobbed quietly into it to muffle herself. She still didn't know why she was crying, she almost thought she felt happy, but you weren't supposed to cry when you were happy.
"Not always, my love," the voice told her, and Rose's stomach lurched at the endearment in a way that was both terribly uncomfortable and entirely pleasant. "Emotions are strange, complicated things, and can make you do things that don't always make sense."
Rose found herself agreeing wholeheartedly as she cried harder into the pillow, feeling happier than she could ever remember.
Later, she wasn't sure how long, her tears finally started to subside and she sat back up, hiccuping slightly.
"Are you ready to try again, lovely?"
Her heart clenched painfully and tears almost threatened to fall again, but she managed to control herself and nodded her head. "Mm-hm."
"Alright, then. This time imagine the lock. In as much detail as possible. How it looks, feels, even how it would taste."
Rose scrunched her nose, wondering why on earth she needed to know that.
"Like I said, as much detail as possible. In fact, try to smell it as well, the metal and the rust, and the sound it makes when you lock and unlock it."
Rose did so, still confused but willing to try. She closed her eyes and held the image of the lock in her mind, pretending to touch it, fiddling with it, listening to the sounds it would make, even giving it a good lick or two.
"Now go through the process of unlocking it, slowly, with every single detail in your mind."
Rose obliged, taking hold of the little knob in her fingers, feeling the cold metal on her skin, flipping it up with a small clink, and pulling it out of the lock position, the rust making it unnecessarily difficult.
"Now open the door."
She thought of putting her hand on the door, feeling the painted wood under her palm, and pushed, rust on the hinges once again causing problems as it squeaked open.
"Well, I meant for real, but that works just as well."
Huh? Rose thought, opening her eyes. Her mouth fell open as she saw moonlight pouring into her cupboard. "It worked," she whispered, more to herself than anyone.
"I told you."
A grin found its way onto her face. Any lingering feeling of distress quickly evaporated to be replaced by excitement. Magic! She had magic!
Another growl from her stomach reminded her of why she had opened the door in the first place, so she slowly crawled out into the hallway, listening carefully for any sign that the Dursleys knew she was out of her cupboard. Hearing none, she pulled herself fully out and started tip-toeing her way to the kitchen.
"Don't tip-toe. It's not any quieter and it decreases your balance. You might fall. Just move slowly and you'll be fine."
Rose's cheeks coloured and she fell back onto her heels. It didn't take long to reach the kitchen, but when she did, she stood uneasily, looking between the fridge and the pantry.
"What should I get?" she asked as quietly as she could.
"Whatever you want. Also, try to speak to me just by thinking whatever it is you want to say. I am in your head, after all."
Rose's face scrunched up in concentration for a moment. "Like this?" she thought, feeling somewhat foolish.
"Yes, like that."
"Oh, okay," Rose said, er, thought, in relief, her attention returning to the problem at hand. "But what if they notice I've taken something?"
"I doubt it. Your whale of a cousin eats enough for a small village, anything missing could easily be blamed on him. It doesn't matter either way, though. They can't do anything to you anymore. I won't let them."
Despite the assurances, Rose still felt uneasy. "But how can you stop them?" She couldn't help but ask. "You're just a voice."
Something that felt an awful lot like amusement flitted through her, entirely at odds with her nervousness. "Magic, of course."
Rose blinked in surprise at the blunt answer. She hadn't really considered that the voice could also do magic.
"I can't actually do much aside from protecting you from direct harm. But that's more than enough to deal with those brutes. Aside from that, I can only help you do magic of your own. It'll take a while before you can use it without my help, and even longer before it'll come as naturally as breathing, but we'll get you there."
Excitement filled Rose at the prospect of using as much magic as she wanted, and she wondered just what sorts of things she could do with it.
"Anything you can imagine," the voice answered her musings. "But for now, food."
Rose opened up the fridge and stared inside, mouth watering at all the food just waiting to be eaten. She stood there for several moments, biting her lip in indecision, but, wary of taking too long, she made up her mind and decided not to be too greedy just in case, taking only several slices of ham and some cheese, along with a handful of strawberries. It was more than she usually got in a day. She quietly closed the fridge door and was about to rush back to her cupboard when the voice stopped her.
"Get some bread too. Grains are important."
Rose didn't see what made grains so special but more food sounded good to her, so she went over to the breadbox to pull out a couple of slices of bread. She put the meat and cheese in between the bread to make herself a rather dry sandwich, but Rose just smiled happily at her creation and made her way back to her cupboard. The voice made a disgusted sound as she sat back down on the ratty sheets that made up her bed and carefully closed the door behind her, leaving it open just enough to let enough light in to see.
"What?" Rose asked the voice.
"The cupboard," the voice growled in reply.
Rose frowned, a little insulted. "What's wrong with my cupboard?" Sure, it was pretty small, and there were no lights, and there were more than a few spiders crawling around, but it was still hers. It was the only place she was ever truly away from the Durselys, ironically, since nothing she did in here could really ever have any cause for punishment. As long as she stayed quiet, that is. But that wasn't hard to do.
"That," the voice responded angrily, but Rose could somehow tell it wasn't directed at her, so she didn't get scared. "Everything you thought of just now is what's wrong with it. It shouldn't be your cupboard, it shouldn't be anyone's cupboard. Those godforsaken Dursleys have two whole spare rooms that they could give you and yet they shove you in this rank place. No wonder your eyesight's so bad given how much time you've spent in here." The voice paused its rant as it let out a sigh. "Well, we'll deal with that soon enough. Just eat for now."
Rose happily obliged, biting into her sandwich with fervor. A question popped into her head midway through chewing her first bite, and she made to swallow before asking to be polite before remembering that the action was entirely unnecessary when the voice answered it before she could put it into exact words.
"Yes, Rose, your eyesight is bad. Atrocious, actually. Trust me, it's not normal for the world to turn into nothing more than a vague assortment of arbitrary colours from more than a foot away."
"Really?" Rose asked curiously, taking another bite of her sandwich.
"Yes, love. Really."
Rose's cheeks flushed, her heart skipping, still unused to any endearments. She tried to distract from her embarrassment by biting into a strawberry. Its juices poured over her tongue making her taste buds dance in excitement, and she accidentally let out a small moan.
A bubble of amusement and… something else Rose didn't recognize burst up from what was previously indignant rage. "Oh, Rose. You are so adorable," the voice said, successfully foiling any attempt to rid herself of her embarrassment. "Do you like strawberries?" it asked.
"I love them!" Rose declared. "These ones are even better than the old, mushy ones I usually get too!"
A flicker of rage passed through her, but it was quickly drowned out by all the other strange things Rose was feeling.
"What about you?" Rose asked, genuinely curious.
"Hmm?" the voice replied, sounding somewhat confused. "What about me?"
"Do you like strawberries?" Rose clarified.
"Oh." Something like surprise passed through her. "I'm not sure. I can taste how you taste them, but I don't know if that's the same as liking them personally."
Rose frowned, not quite understanding. "Well, what do you like?"
There was a moment of silence that Rose took to mean that the voice was trying to decide on her favorite food, but when it finally spoke, all it said was, "I don't know."
"You don't?" Rose asked, baffled. "Why not? Don't you eat?"
"How would I?" the voice asked, somewhat rhetorically. "I'm just a voice in your head, after all."
Rose thought hard about that for a long moment. "Magic?" she suggested.
Laughter filled her head. It startled Rose, but it sounded so cheerful that it soon had her grinning shyly while she nibbled on her food as a warm feeling spread throughout her body.
"Oh, my precious Rose. While I don't doubt that it could, I have no idea how magic could help in this particular case."
"Oh," Rose muttered, somewhat disappointed. "Well, what about before you were in my head?"
"Before?" the voice asked, definitely sounding surprised, as well as confused.
"Yeah," said Rose. "Did you have your own body? Or were you in someone else's?"
Several long moments passed without an answer. Rose patiently munched her food while she waited, but when she started on her last strawberry and there was still no answer, she began to worry. Just when she started panicking that the voice was gone entirely it spoke up, sending a wave of relief washing over her.
"I think…" it started, hesitantly. "That I've always been here. Since you were born, or at least not long after."
Rose frowned skeptically. She was about to voice her doubts when the voice spoke up again.
"I know, I know, why am I just now talking with you? I think I couldn't. Before today, I mean. Same for why I didn't protect you from the Durselys, I think something was preventing me. Or… someone?" There was a frustrated sigh. "I don't know. It's like waking up from a long dream, you're so sure you remember it, but the moment you try to recall any details it escapes you."
Rose nodded in understanding. She had several dreams, or maybe just the one, over and over, that she could never remember other than that she had them. Just the smallest details, like a flying motorcycle, or a flash of green light.
The voice continued. "And I think something changed, while you were asleep, but for the life of me, I can't remember what."
There was a pensive pause that had Rose wishing she knew what to say to help, but she didn't so she just finished off the last of her stolen food and shut the door to her cupboard fully. She settled back into her not-quite-a-bed and soon realized that despite just waking up, she was very tired. All the crying and excitement had worn her out, and now that her tummy didn't ache quite as much, she found sleep creeping up on her.
"Yes, get some rest, Rose. In the morning, we'll get you out of this cupboard and teach those filthy… well, don't worry about that for now. Just sleep, precious."
Rose yawned. "You'll still be there when I wake up?" she asked tentatively.
"Then and always."
"Mmm," Rose mumbled happily as the haze of sleep settled over her mind. "G'night, Mummy."
That feeling came again, that strange, fluttering feeling that had her toes curling and warmth spreading throughout her body, and Rose finally fell asleep with a happy grin on her face for the first time in her life.
"Good night, my little Black Rose."
A loud, sharp rapping on the cupboard door startled her awake. The cupboard door ripped open and Uncle Vernon's lumbering form appeared on the other end. "Get up!" he bellowed, and when Rose flinched away into the corner he reached in and grabbed her roughly by the arm and yanked her out. Oddly, it didn't hurt, but that didn't stop the terror that ran down her spine.
"Mummy?" She cried desperately in her mind, hoping against all hope that last night wasn't a dream.
"I'm here, my love," came the reassuring voice, prompting a veritable tidal wave of relief to wash over Rose.
"You're damn lucky I'm running late, or you'd be wishing you were in the hospital after that stunt you pulled yesterday," Uncle Vernon shouted at her, putting his fat finger in her face.
Rose had no idea what he was talking about, but she kept her head down and stared at the floor, not saying anything.
"Make no mistake, you will be punished for that but it will have to wait until I get back from work," he finished. "Now go and fix breakfast. I'm going to wake Dudley, I want it done by the time I get back."
Rose nodded numbly and took half a step toward the kitchen door when Mummy's voice rang out.
"Don't."
Rose froze. "What?" she asked, terrified.
"Don't do it," Mummy repeated. "You're not their slave anymore. They can't force you to do anything now that I'm here."
"But- But," Rose sputtered in her mind, unable to properly convey just how bad an idea that was.
"Well?" Uncle Vernon thundered. "Get to it!"
"It's okay," Mummy repeated. "I'll protect you."
Rose took a deep, deep breath, and swallowed hard.
"No," she barely whispered, that syllable alone quivering in her fear.
Uncle Vernon's face contorted into a look of bewildered shock like he couldn't understand what he just heard, before quickly morphing into pure anger. "What did you say?
Rose trembled and took another deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. It didn't work. "I-I-I said, 'no,'" she managed to stutter out, a bit louder than last time. She felt a sort of warmth rising within her, the same warmth she felt the night before that fought against her overwhelming fear, and did the same now. Emboldened, she added, "I don't want to."
If possible, Uncle Vernon's rage seemed to double. His face turned an ugly shade of purple and his hands began to shake. "You... you…!" He couldn't seem to find the words to express his anger and soon gave up entirely in favour of a more physical response. His hand came rushing up to meet her head and Rose flinched away but she was too slow to shield herself.
Then, mere inches from her face, his hand crashed against something that wasn't there before. A thin, blood-red sheet had materialized in front of Rose. It was curved slightly, like part of a dome, and appeared very rigid despite its thinness given that Uncle Vernon's hand had bounced off without it flexing in the slightest. It dissolved into nothing moments afterward, leaving Rose staring at the space it left in wide-eyed shock.
Uncle Vernon was apoplectic. "You…! What freak thing did you just do!?" He didn't seem interested in an answer, however, for his hand came for her again, this time aiming to grab her around the throat, only the moment he touched her skin he pulled back with a cry of pain.
Rose jumped away from him in fright, reaching up to caress her neck in fear and confusion. Uncle Vernon was cradling his hand and Rose saw what appeared to be a blistering burn mark where he had touched her.
Rose stared, heart thumping in her chest.
"Now do you believe me?" Mummy's voice came again. "I told you I won't let anything hurt you. Anything."
Her breath was short, gasping like she couldn't get enough air and there was a painful, squeezing sensation in her chest. It wasn't like she didn't believe Mummy when she said she would protect her, but it was one thing to hear it, and another thing entirely to experience it.
"He can't hurt me?" Rose whispered in her head.
"Never again. No one can."
Her breath became shallower still, the pain in her chest escalating, her heart beating harder and harder until something snapped and all the pain her so-called family had caused her, all the terror and unfairness inflicted upon her came bearing down to the forefront of her mind and without even thinking about what she was doing she reached out with both her hands and pushed.
Vernon went flying backward by an unseen force. He crashed hard into the kitchen door, bursting it apart and splintering wood everywhere. He flew further still into the wall on the other end with a painful-sounding thud. An ear-splitting shriek pierced the air and Rose stepped over the rubble of wood into the kitchen and saw Petunia looking at Vernon and screaming her head off. She saw Rose enter and grabbed a nearby knife and raised it threateningly, her face contorting into an ugly mix of rage and fear.
"You!" she shrieked in a way that made Rose's ears hurt. "You abominable freak! What did you do to my-"
"Shut up!" Rose screamed.
Petunia's mouth clamped shut and she took an unintentional step backward.
Rose glared heatedly at her, hatred colouring her face. "I…" she began, struggling to get her words out over her tumultuous emotions. "Am not... a freak!"
"No, my darling girl," Mummy whispered in agreement, simultaneously calming her down and stoking her already terminal anger. "You are the most beautiful thing to walk this earth and deserve so much more than these people."
Rose nodded along absently to Mummy's wonderful words and turned her head when she heard heavy thumping coming up behind her. She saw Dudley in his pajamas running frantically up to them shouting, "Mummy, mummy! It's an earthquake!" and Rose couldn't help but sneer derisively at his stupidity. With a sharp wave of her hand, Dudley careened sideways into the wall. He shouted in pain, and then in fright when he started rising up and hovering halfway to the ceiling.
"Behind you," Mummy warned.
Rose looked and saw Petunia speeding toward her, knife in hand, with a look of scared determination on her face. Rose scowled and reached out with her hand and the knife suddenly wrenched itself from her grasp. Several more from the knife block pulled themselves free and they all started flying sharp end first straight for Dudley. Petunia screamed, but the knives didn't hit him, instead, they pierced through the edges of his pajamas and sunk deep into the wall behind him so that he stayed up on the wall even when Rose let go of him. She wasn't careful not to hurt him though, and many of the knives cut into his skin and he started sobbing in pain, blood visibly seeping through his nightclothes.
Mummy chuckled coldly as Petunia cried out for her son. "Funny," she told Rose, "how much love she has to give, yet denies any of it to you."
Rose shivered in unmitigated anger. "You always…" she began furiously, forcing Petunia to halt her panicked cries. "always, do everything you can to make my life hell!" she shouted. The room shook. The lights flickered, silverware rattled, and several paintings flew off the wall, clattering onto the ground. Rose heaved a heavy breath in a vain attempt to calm herself. "I always did what you asked of me! I did all of your stupid chores, I followed all of your unfair rules, but no matter what I do you treat me like… like I'm… a freak!"
Petunia foolishly spoke up. "You arrogant little shit! We took you in, gave you clothes, fed and sheltered you! You've been nothing but a burden on us ever since you were dropped on our doorstep! You should be grateful we didn't leave you there to freeze to death!"
"Grateful!?" Rose shrieked. The cabinet doors blew open and the dishes inside shot out of their housing and shattered against the walls and floor. The faucet ripped itself from the kitchen sink and jets of water burst forth unfettered. "I'm not stupid! No one else at school has to live in cupboards so small they can't even stretch their legs! No one else is so thin their bones poke out of their skin and wears clothing three sizes too big for them, or uses them to hide the bruises they got from breaking made-up rules! You want me to be grateful!? I HATE YOU!"
The windows shattered and the lights popped, scattering glass across the kitchen. Petunia screamed in fright and attempted to cover her face as shards of glass flew past her and cut into her skin. Rose breathed heavily for several long moments trying to catch her breath. She felt like she had spent the afternoon running from Dudley's gang. She had more to say and was about to delve into another rant when the blood-red sheet that protected her from Vernon before suddenly reappeared in the corner of her vision. Her head jerked just in time to see Vernon swinging a metal bat with all his might toward her head, only for it to bounce straight off the protective sheet with a clang. He looked shocked the blow didn't connect.
Rose snarled at him. She thrust her hand forward and Vernon flew backward at a startling speed. He slammed into the wall with a groan, but Rose wasn't done yet. She flicked her wrist and the belt keeping Vernon's pants on his massive form unraveled itself. She twirled her wrist and the belt slithered up and around his torso until it reached his neck where Rose pulled her arm back and clenched her fist. The belt tightened and Vernon began to choke. Rose thought it was only fair. He had tried to do the same to her just moments earlier.
She was watching him gleefully, enjoying the way his face turned purple, steadfastly ignoring Petunia's pleas, when Mummy's voice rang out.
"I wouldn't kill him, little one."
"Why not!?" Rose snapped. Petunia looked at her, scared and confused, but Rose didn't notice. "I hate him."
"I know you do, lovely. So do I. But I think it would be for the best."
"Why shouldn't I?" Rose demanded. "Give me one good reason!"
"Money," Mummy said simply. "He is the only one with any income. If he's gone, you'll be taken into foster care. I doubt Petunia will be stable enough to work after this."
"So what?" Rose said, even as Vernon's face turned from purple to blue. "Anywhere is better than here!"
"That's not true, little doveling. Things could be much worse. And I'm not saying I can't or won't protect you even then, but sometimes it's better to stay with what's familiar. Besides, with a little… training, I'm sure living here could even become pleasant."
Rose was silent. Her fist unconsciously clenched tighter and the belt dug further into Vernon's neck. His face turned white.
"If you really want to, love, I won't stop you."
In the end, somehow, that's what convinced her to let him go. She supposed it was just further proof that Mummy wanted the best for her. Either way, she finally released her fist with a long sigh. The belt unraveled and fell to the floor, followed shortly by an unconscious Vernon. Petunia rushed over to him and frantically tried to wake him up. Rose sagged, her breath heavy. All her energy seemed to have faded.
"You've used up a lot of magic," Mummy told her. "That'll always wear you out."
"Used up?" Rose asked worriedly.
"It'll come back," Mummy reassured. "You just need some time to recover. You're very young, you don't have much in the way of reserves. It'll help if you eat something."
Right on cue Rose's stomach growled irritably. She looked around the mess that was previously their kitchen and gave a small sigh. "I don't really feel like making anything."
A trickle of amusement passed through her. "Oh Rose, didn't I just say all the Durselys' need is a little bit of training? What better time to start than now?"
Rose blinked in surprise, looking over at Petunia, still vainly attempting to wake Vernon. Making them do chores for her sounded like wonderful retribution, so she took one final deep breath and stated firmly, "I'm hungry. Make me something."
Petunia whirled her head around to stare at her incredulously with wide, fearful eyes, and Rose glanced meaningfully at Dudley, still strung up at the wall. She hesitated just long enough for Rose to lift her arm up threateningly (though she was unsure of what she would do) and then let out a choked sob, getting up and moving toward the stove. The pans were sturdy enough to survive Rose's outburst, and after focusing hard on some of the ceramic shards lining the floor, she managed to mold one of the plates back into existence. Petunia flinched when it lifted itself onto the top of one of the counters to await its order, and it made Rose smile.
Rose went and sat down at the dining table. She stared at Petunia for a while as she stirred the eggs with tears streaming down her face, but quickly grew bored of that and focused her attention inward to Mummy.
"What do I do now?" She asked. She didn't know what to do if she wasn't going to follow the Dursleys rules anymore.
"Whatever you want, precious," Mummy replied, which was nice to hear but wasn't really helpful. Luckily, she continued. "Specifically though, you should tell them that you'll be moving out of the cupboard."
Rose smiled at the thought of sleeping in an actual bed. She always thought they looked very soft.
"After that, there's not really anything to do. Petunia and Dudley will have learned their lesson by now, Vernon might need to be knocked down another peg or two, but he'll be easy enough to manage. I'd recommend giving your schoolwork another go. They wouldn't dare try to punish you whatever your grades now, and Dudley's little friends will be paltry to deal with."
Rose grew excited at the thought of returning to school. She really did enjoy learning about plants and animals, the sky and the earth, history, and even numbers those first few weeks when she had really given it her all. Before the Dursleys quashed any reason to do so.
Petunia approached, a plate of breakfast held shakily in her hands. She set it down in front of Rose and quickly retreated.
Rose gave her a vindictive smile. "I want the master bedroom," she told Mummy.
Mummy laughed. "Yes, that's a good idea. Tell them to get rid of all their belongings and you can-" she stopped suddenly as if a thought had just occurred to her. "Actually… it might be better to take the guest room for now. At least until you get them to get you a new bed."
Rose paused with a fork halfway to her mouth, blinking in confusion. "Why?"
"Uh," Mummy said, sounding uncomfortable for some reason. "Well, I don't think you want theirs. What if they sleep naked?
Rose dropped her fork and her face scrunched, thoroughly revolted. "Ewww."
"Yes, exactly. Not to mention what else they might- I mean… yeah. You don't want that bed."
Rose nodded in vigorous agreement, picking her utensil back up. The dish Petunia made was very simple, just eggs and a piece of toast, but it was more than Rose had ever seen and one time and she happily dug in. She saw Petunia fidgeting as she ate, looking very much like she wanted to say something, but didn't dare to actually say it.
"She probably wants you to free Dudley."
Rose glanced at him, still sobbing quietly to himself up on the wall. "Should I?"
"Hmm…" Mummy hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose so. She did give you your food, after all."
Rose turned to stare at Petunia for several seconds, watched as her fidgeting devolved into nervous trembles. There was a sudden clattering and a thump, and Petunia flinched violently but when she turned to see what the noise was, she gasped and ran over to Dudley.
Rose ignored her afterward, content to focus on her food. In fact, she was feeling very content overall. It was very strange.
"You'll get used to your new life," Mummy told her. "You can only go up from here."
Rose was very much looking forward to it.