March, 1995.
Rose woke up to dimmed light filtering through the thick emerald drapes of the dormitory. She stretched, sleepily taking in the sight of the empty room before her. Natalie, Amelia, and Meredith had all already left, leaving only signs of their presence in the form of lingering perfumes and Natalie's messy unmade bed. Maggie's old bed, untouched and cold, stood as a reminder of her absence. Rose's heart still ached and she missed her terribly, more than she could put into letters that Maggie would still leave without replies.
Surprisingly, it turned out that Maggie had always been the glue that held their group together. not Rose. When they were younger, it was Maggie and Amelia who would get into petty fights, with Rose playing the peacemaker. Both had fiery tempers and would clash stubbornly, but it was always Maggie who would be the first to extend an olive branch. Rose remembered the countless nights they had spent in the dormitory, whispering secrets and giggling under the covers long after lights out. They felt like a lifetime ago.
Natalie, on the other hand, had her own friends. A gang of nasty girls who were known for their sharp tongues and cruel jokes. Rose had never felt like she fit in with them. Natalie had always seemed more at home in their world of whispered insults and backhanded compliments. Rose now wondered if Amelia had ever truly considered her a friend, or if she had just been a companion for her until it wasn't convenient anymore.
Meredith was different. She was quiet and kept to herself, preferring the company of Abby Doyle, a pretty Ravenclaw girl. Meredith and Abby had a bond that seemed unbreakable despite the distance between their houses. Her friendship with Abby meant that she was often gone, away from Natalie's snickering and fake pleasantries.
Rose groaned and swung her legs over the side of the bed, the cold stone floor sending a shiver up her spine. She reached for clothes, grabbing a soft cream jumper and black pants. As she pulled them on, she thought back to the beginning of the school year. The memory of the Slytherins all bundled up in one carriage, laughing as the rain poured down on them. It brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. They had been so close then, so united.
Amelia and Pucey were no longer speaking with her, and Graham now hid in various corners of the castle, likely with Katie. Rose felt happy for him, but still as though she was left all alone, floating in an empty space. The corridors of the castle, once so welcoming, now just seemed cold.
Rose stood up, trying to shake the melancholy that had taken over her. She tied her hair back in a simple half-up style and took one last look at Maggie's empty bed, putting on her scarf and cloak before heading downstairs. The common room was empty enough that the fires soft crackling echoed off the walls. She made her way through the dimly lit dungeons, the sound of her footsteps mixed with droplets of water. As she walked upstairs, her mind wandered back to happier times.
She remembered the sunny afternoons spent by the Black Lake, where they would sit in a circle on the grass, talking about everything and nothing. Maggie would bring her notebook, filling page after page with Quidditch strategies and charts, while Graham silently watched and absorbed everything she would mumble. Amelia would practice hexes on unsuspecting insects, her laughter ringing out as they scurried away, while Rose read her favourite book at the time as if she didn't already know it by heart. In those days she felt invincible, like nothing could ever come between them.
Suddenly, petty arguments had turned into serious disagreements. Rose thought about the first major fight between Amelia and Maggie. It had started over something trivial – a borrowed dress robe that Maggie had forgotten to return. Words had been exchanged, harsh and unforgiving, and Rose had found herself caught in the middle, trying to make peace between them. The fight had blown quickly, but even then the cracks had begun to spread.
Natalie's influence had also played a role in Amelia and Maggie drifting apart. Her gang of cruel girls had a way of sensing discord, of turning friends against each other. Rose had seen it happen time and time again. Natalie thrived on drama, on the power she thought she held over others. As much as she had always tried to stay out of it, she never forgot how Natalie talked about Maggie's accidents, as if her friend deserved it for the years of putting Natalie down. And then there was Meredith, kind and thoughtful, but distant.
Rose entered the Great Hall, the noise and bustle of students washing over her. She scanned the room for her brother, but he was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes then landed on the Ravenclaw table where Fleur was sitting, engaged in a lively conversation with a swarm of girls around her. Fleur's presence was a like a beacon of light in the gloom. She hesitated for a moment, then straightened her shoulders and walked over to them.
"Fleur," she said gently, not wanting to interrupt them. Fleur swiftly looked up, her face breaking into a wide smile.
"Rose! Good morning. 'ow are you?"
"I'm okay. I was wondering if you were going to Hogsmeade today," Rose asked, her voice betraying a hint of shyness.
Fleur's eyes sparkled with excitement. "They 'ave to study, but I would love to!" She gestured to an empty space next to one of the Beauxbatons girl, "Sit, please. Eat with us."
Rose nodded, feeling a small surge of newfound energy. She took a seat across from Fleur and exchanged pleasantries with the other girls. As she sat there, watching Fleur chat animatedly with the table, Rose felt a flicker of hope.
Rose picked at her breakfast, her thoughts drifting back to her first year at school. She had been so nervous, stepping onto the platform at King's Cross Station, her heart pounding with excitement and fear. She had met Graham on that very first train ride, their laughter filling the carriage as they bonded over shared dreams. After growing up as a somewhat lonely child, she had finally made her first friend outside of her family's bounds.
Rose glanced at Fleur, who was finishing her breakfast with a delicate grace. The French girl had always been kind to her, ever since they had first met. She was different than Krum – more genuine, more open.
"Ready?" Fleur's voice broke her thoughts, and Rose looked up to see her standing with her thin coat draped over her arm.
"Oui," she replied with a smile. They made their way out of the Great Hall, the chatter of the students fading behind them as they stepped into the crisp morning air.
As they walked towards the gates, Rose felt a sense of lightness she hadn't experienced in months. They spoke in French, and as Rose stumbled over some of the more complicated sentences, Fleur completely ignored that and chatted away animatedly about a new song she heard, her enthusiasm contagious.
"Do you... miss home?" Rose asked as they strolled through the grounds, the path to Hogsmeade stretching out before them.
"A lot," Fleur admitted. "But I like it here too. It's different, but in a good way. And I've made some interesting friends, like you."
Rose smiled, her heart warming at Fleur's words. "You know, my mother was from Provence."
"Well that explains it." Fleur's eyes softened. "How old were you?"
"Around eight." Rose felt a sense of hope bloom inside her. Her past might be filled with bittersweet memories, but the present held the promise of a chance to create a future worth looking forward to.
As the two girls made their way towards the village, Fleur changed the topic.
"I still can't believe how weak I looked," she said with a noticeable of frustration in her voice. "I trained so hard, but when I saw those creatures, I just... I couldn't think."
Rose nodded. "It could've happened to anyone. Besides, the professors would never have let anything bad happen to Gabrielle."
Fleur sighed, her expression softening slightly. "I wish I knew that then, but it felt so real. I felt like I let her get hurt, even though I know it was just part of the task."
"You didn't fail her," Rose squeezed Fleur's shoulder. "You showed how much you care about her. That's more important than winning a task."
Fleur gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you, Rose. I needed to hear that. But still, I solemnly vow I will redeem myself in the third task," Fleur smirked. "I will show you what I am truly capable of."
Rose laughed, feeling a spark of excitement. "Well, just remember, we're still competing. I can't promise I won't try my best to beat you."
"Never!" Fleur joined in the laughter, her eyes sparkling with determination. "May the best witch win."
The conversation shifted to lighter topics as they continued their walk. The village of Hogsmeade came into view, the streets bustling with students and townsfolk. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air.
As they approached the Three Broomsticks, Fleur turned to Rose. "You know, I read that article about you. Rubbish! That woman will say anything to sell a story."
Rose felt a tinge of annoyance at the mention of the article. "I know, it's ridiculous. Graham and I have always been just friends. It's all twisted."
Fleur rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. "Don't pay them any attention. Besides, the press has always been more interested in scandal than truth."
They entered the Three Broomsticks, the lively atmosphere immediately washing over them as they grabbed two butterbeers and mingled past the crowd in hopes of finding an empty table.
"Here," Rose said as they approached a small table in the back of the pub.
Fleur's excitement about trying Butterbeer was contagious. "I've heard so much about this. I'm fascinated to finally try it."
Rose smiled. "It's sweet and warm, perfect for a day like this."
Fleur took a cautious sip, her eyes widening in delight. "Oh it's awful and amazing at the same time! How can that be?"
"Best to not even think about it." Rose grinned. "Is there a drink you miss from home?"
Fleur's eyes sparkled with memories "Yes, we have one made with elderflower. It's very refreshing. Sometimes, we spike it with wine, which is a little trick we use to get booze into the school."
Rose laughed, imagining the elegant Fleur and her classmates sneaking wine into their drinks. "Ha! You know, my aunt teaches Charms at Beauxbatons."
"No!" Fleur's eyes widened in surprise. "Madame Duval is your aunt? She is... well, she is quite interesting."
Rose chuckled. "Aunt Marion is a mean old hag."
Fleur laughed along with her. "She is very demanding, but she knows her subject, though her classes are not for the faint-hearted."
Fleur described Beauxbatons with a fondness that painted a vivid picture in Rose's mind – the beautiful gardens, the elegant dining hall, and the stunning view of the Pyrenees in the spring. It was clear that Fleur loved her school deeply.
"I would love to see it someday," Rose said. "It sounds just... enchanting."
Fleur smiled warmly. "You must visit. It's even more beautiful in person. And maybe one day, I can show you around."
The girls made that into a toast and finished their Butterbeers. As they stepped out of the pub with a new adventure in mind, they were greeted by the unpleasant sight of Rita Skeeter, her quill levitating, poised and ready.
"Miss Nott! A moment, if you please," Rita called out, her lizard-like eyes gleaming with the promise of gossip.
Rose felt a surge of anger. "I have nothing to say to you. Come near me again and I'll see that you are arrested."
Fleur, catching Rose's mood, glared at Rita and shouted a string of obscenities in French. Although she probably didn't understand a single word, Rita's eyes widened in shock, and she took a step back, her quill still hovering in the air.
"Let's go," Rose said, grabbing Fleur's arm and pulling her towards Gladrags Wizardwear.
Sunday arrived with a quiet stillness that seemed to blanket the castle. Rose found herself in the library, surrounded by towering shelves of books and the gentle rustle of parchment. The quiet offered her a reprieve from the tumultuous thoughts that had been swirling in her mind all weekend. She was intent on finding more information about the Knights of Walpurgis.
She scoured the shelves of the forbidden section, pulling out books on European folklore and some questionable magical practices, but her efforts seemed to be in vain. The closest she came was finding references to Walpurgis Night, an old pagan festival celebrating the arrival of spring, but nothing about any knights. Frustration began to settle in as time ticked by.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the library, Rose had just about had it with the disappointment. She gathered her books, including European Folk History, and made her way to the exit. Just as she was about to leave, she nearly collided with Professor Moody.
"Watch where you're going, lass," Moody's gruff voice greeted her as his magical eye whirred in its socket, fixing on her with an unsettling gaze.
"I-I'm sorry, Professor," Rose stammered, dropping her book in her haste.
Moody's expression changed as he bent down to pick up the book. "Ah, European Folk History. Fascinating stuff, isn't it?" He handed the book back to her and scrutinized her with his normal eye. "You've done well in the tasks so far. Keep it up."
"Thank you, Professor," Rose replied, feeling a strange prickling sensation under the scrutiny of his magical eye. "I was just, um, researching Walpurgis Night."
Idiot! Shut up!
Moody raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued. "Walpurgis Night, eh? Superstitious Muggle nonsense for the most part. A lot of fuss about witches and bonfires."
Rose forced a smile, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yes, I suppose so. Just curious, really."
Moody nodded, though he seemed to see right though her. "Curiosity's a good trait for a witch, dangerous too. But remember, there's always a bit of truth in old legends." He gave her another analyzing look. "Speaking of which, while your non-verbal spellcasting is impressive, you still need more practice. There'll be tests coming up."
"I understand, Professor. Thank you," Rose said, though she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling.
"Good. Stay sharp, Miss Nott." With that, Moody turned and walked away, his limping steps echoing through the silent library.
Rose watched him go in silence. She couldn't quite place why Moody's presence unsettled her so much, perhaps because the ex-auror killed more dark wizards than she could even name, but Rose was still resolved to keep her guard up around him.
The Slytherin common room was bustling with activity when Rose entered. She spotted Natalie and Amelia sitting on a couch, their heads bent close together as they whispered and giggled. Amelia's laughter died down as she noticed Rose approaching.
"Can we talk?" Rose asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
Amelia rolled her eyes but got up from the couch. "If you insist."
They made their way to their dorm, the tension between them thick in the air. Once inside, Rose closed the door behind them and turned to face Amelia.
"I wanted to talk about our fight," Rose began, trying to keep her voice calm. "I don't understand how things could have changed so much between us in an instant."
Amelia crossed her arms, her expression blank. "You want to talk about the fight? There's nothing to talk about, Rose. What, not too busy training with Graham and going on your little fun outings now, are you?"
Rose felt a pang of guilt. "We didn't mean to exclude you, Amelia. You just—"
Amelia's eyes narrowed. "It's not just about excluding me, Rose. There's another article coming out about you. Did you know that?"
Rose blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean? Another article?"
"Yes, another one," Amelia said, her voice dripping with pride. "You're always in the spotlight, always the perfect little Miss Nott."
"I don't believe this," Rose said, feeling defensive. "You've always fought against Natalie. Why are you acting like her now?"
Amelia's expression hardened. "Maybe I've realised that people change, Rose. Maybe I've found that I need to look out for myself first."
Rose took a step closer, trying to bridge the gap between them. "Amelia, I'm really sorry."
Amelia's eyes flashed with anger as she took a step back. "You think that half-arsed apology can fix things? You know nothing, Rose. You never saw me as a real friend. I was just someone you knew would agree with you all the time."
"Because we used to agree on things," Rose protested. "We've respected each other's opinions and..."
Amelia scoffed. "Then why are you taking classes from a murderer?"
Rose felt a chill run down her spine. "What?"
Amelia's voice rose in frustration. "How do you think it feels for me to hear you talk about Moody's classes? Do you even know he killed my uncle?"
Rose was stunned into silence. "I... I didn't know that."
"Of course, you didn't," Amelia spat. "You're too wrapped up in your own world."
"Amelia, I'm so sorry. I had no idea," Rose said, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Don't pity me," Amelia snapped. "At least Evan took a chunk of Moody's nose with him."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Amelia's words choking Rose. She could see the pain and bitterness in her friend's eyes, and it broke her.
"I never meant to hurt you," Rose said softly.
Amelia's expression softened for a moment, but then she steeled herself. "We can be friends again, Rose. But only if you pick a side."
Rose frowned, confused. "Pick a side?"
"We're not all playing for the same team," Amelia said, her voice firm. "You can't have it both ways, and you'll have to choose sooner or later."
Rose felt a sense of despair wash over her. "Amelia, I don't understand! Why now all of the sudden?"
Amelia's eyes were cold. "Because the world is changing." She smirked cruelly. "Does it make you afraid? That you might finally have to earn your place in society?"
With that, Amelia turned and left the room, leaving Rose standing there, tears streaming down her face.
Rose was still shaken by the latest conversation with Amelia as she trudged through the dimly lit hallways. She needed a place to think, somewhere she could gather herself without interruptions.
Finally, after wandering for what felt like forever, she found herself standing in front of an abandoned classroom on the seventh floor. She pushed the creaky door open, the sound echoing in the empty corridor, and stepped inside. The room was shrouded in shadows, with the only light coming from the moon filtering through the grime-covered windows. Dust motes danced in the air, and the scent of old parchment and forgotten ink filled her nostrils.
Rose walked over to the window and sat down on the wide sill, her back against the cold stone wall. She pulled her bag onto her lap and began to unload its contents: books on European folklore, ancient magical practices, and historical symbols. She placed the book Charlie had given her, Relics of Eastern Europe, on top of the pile.
For hours, she combed through the dense texts, her eyes scanning each page for any mention of the snake knot symbol. Her fingers traced the intricate illustrations of ancient graves and monuments, her mind racing to make connections. The dim light made it hard to read, but as she persevered, driven by a desperate need for answers, she felt as if the room became more lit up.
As time passed, her frustration grew. Every lead seemed to end in a dead-end, each reference to the knot was vague and incomplete. She felt like she was chasing shadows, her efforts yielding little more than fragments of a larger puzzle she couldn't quite piece together.
Then, just as she was about to give up, she stumbled upon a detailed drawing of an ancient grave adorned with a symbol strikingly similar to the one she had seen. Her heart leaped with excitement as she read the caption: Burial practices in Pannonia.
"Pannonia…" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the silent room. The name sparked a faint recognition. It was a region that had once existed, near the rivers Tisza and Sava. But that was almost all she could recall.
Determined to find out more, Rose tried to remember whatever she knew about the region, hoping it would provide her with a new piece of the puzzle. She knew that it was part of what used to be Yugoslavia, a country torn in an ongoing brutal war. The realiastion dampened her excitement. Even if she found something significant, how could she possibly explore it further?
As she stared at the illustration of the burial symbol, doubt began to creep in. Had she really seen that symbol at Cornwall Manor? The memory was hazy, combined with remnants of the nightmare that still plagued her. She obviously knew there was a fireplace in her father's study, and above it hung a painting. Could something be hidden behind it?
The more she thought about it, the more she realised that she had been approaching the problem from the wrong angle. She knew the knot was Celtic, so instead of searching for the exact symbol, she should start at the beginning.
In that moment, Rose made a decision. She would have to convince Theo that they should go to Cornwall for Easter break, a long past-due family holiday since they had missed Christmas.
It was high time she explored the source of it all – their home.