Spring, 1994.
"You do realize that if anyone catches wind of this, we'll be suspended?" Rose whispered urgently, her eyes wide with apprehension.
The five Slytherin students were sneaking through the dimly lit first-floor corridor. They moved in a tight formation, their breaths shallow and quick, each flicker of the torch flames and shadow on the stone walls made their hearts race.
Graham led the way, his eyes scanning every corner. "Stay close and keep quiet," he murmured, his voice steady but low.
They froze at the sound of a small noise ahead of them. Hearts pounding, they exchanged horrified looks until a toad appeared, hopping nonchalantly past them.
"Bloody hell," Adrian Pucey muttered, moving to stand next to Graham, his voice barely audible. "I thought that was it."
Graham motioned to the girls behind them to keep moving like a medieval military leader orchestrating a stealthy siege. "Quickly, our lad Gregory's just a corner away."
Their lad Gregory was, in reality, the statue of Gregory the Smarmy. It offered a not-so-permitted passage to Hogsmeade for students brave—or foolish—enough to use it. As the statue came into view, they quickened their pace, a sense of urgency driving them forward.
"Go, go, go!" Graham signaled, urging everyone to get to the enormous statue depicting a large man behind a cauldron.
Pucey moved the hidden latch, revealing the narrow passage behind the statue. Rose and Amelia were the first to slip inside, their breaths quick and nervous. Pucey motioned for Graham and Maggie to follow him, but just as he put one foot into the dark tunnel, voices echoed down the corridor behind them.
Unfortunately, Maggie's first instinct was to close the latch, trapping Graham behind the statue. She clutched the collar of his robes so tightly that he let out a choking sound before she released him. They squeezed together in the small space separating the rear of the statue from the wall, praying they wouldn't be discovered. The footsteps grew louder, echoing through the corridor. Maggie put a finger to her lips, her face inches from Graham's. His cheeks flushed in the dim light.
As the voices became clearer, they realized one of them belonged to Snape. Both Slytherins grew pale.
"Minerva, I've known him since we were boys," Snape said, his voice a mix of frustration and urgency.
At the mention of Professor McGonagall's name, Graham and Maggie exchanged wide-eyed looks, coming to terms with the possibility that these could be their last moments at Hogwarts.
"And I've known both of you just as well," McGonagall replied sternly. "I don't believe Mr. Lupin has a single bad bone in his body."
"You're forgetting his nature," Snape said smugly.
"And you're blinded by it," she whispered back angrily as they approached the statue. The Slytherins behind it held their breaths. "What happened when you were students—"
"We cannot trust him! Not with Black—" Snape argued quietly.
"I'd say everyone is worthy of a second chance," McGonagall said, her tone softening slightly. "Wouldn't you agree, Severus?"
The professors resumed their walk in silence, the sound of their footsteps fading into the distance. Graham and Maggie remained pressed together in the small space behind the statue, their breaths shallow and rapid. Graham could feel the warmth of Maggie's breath on his face, her proximity making his heart pound even harder. Desperate to break the tension, he leaned in slightly, his lips curling into a mischievous smile.
"So, should we kiss now or—" he began, his voice barely above a whisper.
Maggie's eyes widened before she smacked his face away from hers. "Ow! Joking! Joking!" Graham exclaimed, rubbing his cheek.
With shaky hands, Maggie pulled the latch down, and they quietly stepped into the tunnel.
The three Slytherins inside immediately surrounded them. "What happened?!" Pucey demanded, his voice a harsh whisper.
Graham and Maggie exchanged glances before Maggie spoke up. "Snape... and McGonagall... gone."
Amelia's shocked gasp was muffled by Pucey's hand over her mouth.
"They were talking about Lupin. Snape isn't very fond of him," Graham continued, his voice low and urgent.
"Oh, but Lupin is so handsome!" Rose chirped, earning incredulous looks from her friends. "What? He's only like thirty."
"Darling," Maggie said, tapping her on the shoulder, "let's not repeat this to anyone, ever."
Graham's lips curved into a menacing smile. "Oh, do you find Snape fit too? You know, they were schoolmates."
The other four groaned in unison, visibly repulsed by the thought.
"I think I feel sick," Amelia said shakily.
"Come now, you wimps," Pucey said, stepping forward and dragging Graham to the front of the line. "Let's get those drinks and get back to the party. The honor of Slytherin house is on the line here."
They moved cautiously through the narrow, damp tunnel. The walls were rough-hewn stone, and the air was musty and cold. Rose's fingers brushed against the damp walls, and she shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her. The flickering light from Graham's wand cast eerie shadows, making the tunnel seem even more claustrophobic.
"Why does it always have to be the creepy tunnels?" Amelia muttered, her voice echoing slightly.
"Would you prefer the Forbidden Forest?" Pucey shot back.
"Point taken," she replied, rolling her eyes.
After what felt like an eternity, they reached a wooden trapdoor. Pucey pushed it open cautiously, peering out into the night. "Clear," he whispered, climbing out. One by one, they emerged into the cold night air.
Rose took a deep breath, the crisp air a welcome change from the damp tunnel. "We made it," she said, her voice filled with relief.
"Let's not celebrate just yet," Graham said, glancing around. "We still have to get back."
"And get the drinks," Maggie said firmly, leading the way towards the Hog's Head Inn.
Spring, 1995.
By the end of April, Rose's mood had undergone a complete transformation. Where once there had been anger, now there was only determination. She chose, as one does in moments of emotional turmoil, to suppress any negative feelings and channel all her energy into her schoolwork and preparations for the Third Task. She welcomed every opportunity to bury the unnerving feeling in her gut under layers of potions, magical theory, and relentless practice.
Theo had tried to apologize to her after returning from the break, explaining that the spells their father had assigned him to learn were the reason he had been disappearing during the first term. His countless apologies were met with an unconvincing smile as Rose quickly waved it all off and pretended everything was well—better than well, in fact. She knew her brother meant well, but she couldn't let herself be distracted by anything that didn't include a new spell or notes from Professor Binns' class.
After classes ended for the day, Professor Snape permitted Rose to use an empty dungeon classroom to continue practicing. The ordinary classroom, with its cold stone walls and flickering torchlights, became her new sanctuary. It was there that she could push herself to the limits with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
As she dueled with Graham and Bole, her anger came out. Spells flew from her wand with such force that Graham often had to remind her to stay in control. Despite the boys' protests, she refused to ease up, driven by a need to be perfect, which led to many bruises for all parties involved.
One May afternoon, Katie joined them in the dungeon. Rose was struggling with her shield charms, and Katie watched for a while before stepping in to offer advice.
"That's rubbish. You need to clear your mind. Imagine a protective barrier all around you, something impenetrable," Katie suggested, her voice lacking the usual sarcasm and sting. "Stop trying to prepare your next spell, just concentrate on the one you're casting."
Rose nodded, and although she wasn't thrilled, she appreciated the help. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to center herself. When she cast the spell again, there was a noticeable improvement.
"Better," Katie said with a smile. "I reckon you just need to keep practicing."
Afterwards, as Rose and Graham walked to the common room together, Graham was practically beaming. "I'm so glad you two are getting along," he said, unable to hide his happiness.
"Oh, you've got it bad, Graham," Rose rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "And slow your Hippogriffs, we're not mates or anything."
"Still," Graham insisted, "you're something."
Rose sighed, but she couldn't deny that she was happy to see Graham so light on his feet. His happiness was infectious. "Fine, I'll admit it. It's nice having her around. I don't have to pretend to listen to you when you talk about Quidditch," she added with a teasing smile.
Graham replied with a wide grin. "Finally."
The last week of May, Professor Snape called Rose to his office for a word. While she thought it would be another lecture, it turned out to be the complete opposite. Snape rarely complimented students, but Rose proved to be the exception once more. Her grades had significantly improved, and he concluded his short sentiments with a rare nod of approval.
Snape also informed Rose that she needed to go down to the Quidditch pitch that night at nine in the evening, along with the other Triwizard champions. The Third Task was in precisely one month, and they would be getting their promised briefing. As Rose walked up from the Slytherin common room, she noticed Potter crossing the entrance hall.
"Potter!" The boy didn't look too thrilled but still slowed down and let Rose catch up with him.
"What do you think it's going to be?" she asked Harry, breaking the uncomfortable silence as they walked together down the stone steps and out into the chilly night. "Fleur keeps going on about underground tunnels."
"I wouldn't mind that," replied Harry courtly. They walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stands, turned through a gap, and walked out onto the field.
"I'm not that good with the game, but I'm certain it shouldn't look like this, right?" Rose said, confusion written all over her face.
The Quidditch field was no longer a smooth and flat lawn but looked as though somebody had been building long, grassy walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.
"They're hedges!" Harry yelled, crouching to look at the nearest one.
"Over here!" called a voice, too cheery for Rose's tastes.
Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur. Rose and Harry made their way toward them, clumsily climbing over the hedges.
"Well, what do you think?" asked Bagman happily as Rose and Harry climbed over the last hedge. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid will have them twenty feet high. Don't worry, Harry," he added, grinning, spotting the less-than-happy expression on Harry's face, "you'll have your field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"
No one spoke for a moment, Rose and Fleur exchanging unsatisfied glances.
"Maze," said Krum.
"Exactly!" yelled Bagman. "A maze. The third task's really quite straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."
"We simply 'ave to get through the maze?" asked Fleur.
"There will be obstacles, of course," said Bagman happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Hagrid is kindly providing a number of creatures... then there will be spells that must be broken... all that fun stuff. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." Bagman grinned at Rose and Potter. "Then Mr. Krum will enter... followed by Miss Delacour. Should be fun, eh?"
Rose, knowing all too well about the creatures lurking around the school and not so rarely inside it, thought it was unlikely to be very fun for the ones who had to go inside the maze. However, all champions nodded politely despite having probably very similar feelings on the subject.
"Very well... if there are no questions, let's go back up to the castle, shall we?" Bagman hurled himself at Potter's side as they began to walk their way out of the greenery.
The next morning, the whole castle was abuzz with the news of Mr. Crouch attacking Viktor Krum. While Rose never really paid much attention to Mr. Crouch, she did remember her father's countless comments on the man's dedication to his career.
"Maybe he was pissed," Graham shrugged as they sat on one of the plush couches in the common room. "You know, the job's stressful and he turns to the bottle?"
"Crouch doesn't seem the type." Rose furrowed her brows in thought. "Maybe he was cursed?"
"Cursed?" Graham stilled for a moment, and the chocolate frog he was tightly gripping seized its moment for an easy escape. Graham lunged after it but hit his shin against the small table in front of the couch. "Stupid frog, come back here!" he gave up not a moment later. "Why would anyone curse Crouch?"
"That's the million Galleon question," Rose said thoughtfully.
She watched as Amelia made her way to the dorms with Natalie. They hadn't spoken much aside from small courtesies, but they also weren't at each other's throats anymore, which was an improvement. Natalie had been especially quiet in the weeks leading up to the Third Task, so much so that it was a bit suspicious.
Students paid little mind to the past gossip. Some Slytherin girls even asked Rose if she would introduce them to Tremlett if the chance presented itself. As the end of the summer term approached, students became more and more supportive of all the champions, excitedly awaiting the last installment of the tournament.
Despite her exemption from exams, Rose's dedication to her studies remained steady. She spent long hours in the library, her nose buried in books on advanced charms and defensive spells. The scent of aged parchment and ink became a regular backdrop to her days. Each page turned was another brick in the wall she was slowly building around herself, a fortress to keep the world at bay.
Her nightmares slowly began to fade. they became fleeting like wisps of smoke from a burnt out candle. Yet, in the quiet moments between study sessions and practice duels, Rose couldn't shake the feeling that this calm was merely the eye of the storm.
As she packed up her books one evening, ready to head back to the common room, Rose caught a glimpse of herself in the polished surface of a nearby suit of armor. The reflection showed a girl who had grown in ways she hadn't anticipated. Her eyes, once bright with mischief, now held a depth of uncertainty.
Taking a deep breath, Rose squared her shoulders and headed towards the dungeons. She had chosen this path, with all its trials and uncertainties, and even if did lead her into the wrong direction, at least she chose it herself.
The night before the third task, Rose "borrowed" Pucey's pipe and made her way up to the Astronomy Tower after hours. The cool night air greeted her as she settled against the stone, taking a drag from the pipe and exhaling slowly. The smoke curled up into the star-studded sky, and she let her mind wander to an alternate reality where she hadn't entered the Triwizard Tournament.
She probably would have had a normal sixth year, cheering on Warrington or another champion from a different house. She imagined herself laughing in the stands, her voice hoarse from shouting encouragement. Maybe she would have been kinder to Theo, and they wouldn't have spent the majority of fall and winter in a bitter feud. Perhaps even Amelia wouldn't have felt so left out, and they would still be friends. They would be lying in their beds about now, unable to sleep because of the excitement of tomorrow, but not the kind of excitement she felt now. Instead, they would be gossiping about the champions, not worrying about surviving the task.
There would be no terrible articles painting her in a negative light, no constant pressure to prove herself. She and her friends would have had more time for late-night excursions out of the castle, sneaking into the kitchens for a midnight snack or exploring hidden rooms. If she hadn't spent her Easter break investigating her father, maybe she could have visited Charlie. All those possibilities, if only she had not put her name into that stupid Goblet.
A sound behind her interrupted her thoughts, causing her to cough up smoke. She turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing there, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.
"Good evening, Miss Nott," Dumbledore greeted in his usual manner.
"Honestly, Professor, I can't even make up an excuse," she admitted with a sheepish grin.
Dumbledore waved away her concern with a dismissive gesture. "Nerves are expected tonight."
"Quite right," Rose replied, her brow furrowing.
They stood together in silence, gazing up at the night sky. Dumbledore seemed to inspect something on his robes before breaking the quiet once again. "If I may ask, do you still feel, how did you put it, lost, Miss Nott?"
"I probably shouldn't say," she shrugged, her worries evident in her stance, "but more than ever, Professor."
Dumbledore looked up, his half-moon spectacles catching the moonlight and adding to his enigmatic aura. "Ah, to be young and lost in one's own ambitions."
"I'm more afraid of losing myself in someone else's," Rose admitted candidly.
"Then, to put it simply, don't," Dumbledore replied.
"But what if I choose wrong?"
"Only those who've never doubted themselves have truly no remorse," Dumbledore pondered. "Tell me, Miss Nott, have you been keeping up with your practice?"
"Surely my friends haven't reported too many bruises," she quipped, a wry smile playing on her lips.
The professor chuckled softly, a sound that mirrored the wisdom in his gaze. "Very well. I trust you're ready for tomorrow's challenge?"
"I aim to come out on top, sir," she assured him.
"Good... good," Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "And what about the more advanced spells, like the one you used against the dragon?"
Rose froze briefly, almost letting Pucey's pipe slip from the Astronomy Tower. She quickly steadied it with a swift motion of her wand.
"Professor Moody mentioned your talent for non-verbal casting," Dumbledore continued, his gaze drifting into contemplation. "I suggest you continue to refine that skill. Trust your instincts, Miss Nott."
Before she could respond, Dumbledore offered a slight, mysterious smile, bid her a quiet goodnight, and left her standing alone.
Rose was baffled once again by the conversation but didn't pretend not to understand. Out of all the spectators, it was only natural for Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of their time, to notice something suspicious about the freezing spell. Maybe it was too flashy, or a regular spell definitely wouldn't have stopped the dragon's flames that way. She should have just cast Auguamenti and let the dragon keepers do their jobs, but she wasn't thinking.
Rose raised her wand up in the air, both her hands up, but nothing happened. She still couldn't control it. And what she couldn't control was best left alone. S
She took another drag from the pipe, the embers glowing brightly in the darkness. The night was still, and the stars seemed to shine a little brighter, as if offering her silent encouragement. As she stood there, she thought about what Dumbledore had said. Follow your instincts. It was simple advice, yet rather useful. With a deep breath, Rose extinguished the pipe and tucked it away.
The morning of the Third Task, Rose felt an empty pit deep in her gut. The Great Hall was at its noisiest, even more chaotic than before the most uncertain of Quidditch matches. Students buzzed with excitement, blissfully unaware of the impending dangers of the maze they'd be watching that evening. Or not watching, Rose thought to herself a little meanly, wishing she could share their oblivious joy.
As she joined Graham, Pucey, and Theo at the Slytherin table, she noticed Pucey and Theo sitting far too close for her liking. With the determination of an older sister, she wedged herself between them. Both boys shot her irritated glances, which they quickly masked in front of Graham.
The owl post arrived, and her family owl, uncharacteristically landed in front of her, gently dropping a letter. She welcomed the distraction, scratching the bird's head. Heron, however, chose another victim for the morning and decided to stomp over Graham's plate and steal his breakfast, eliciting a grunt from Graham.
Rose clutched the letter tightly, her excitement visible as she read the front of it. But then, her face fell. It wasn't from Charlie, but from her father instead. With a scowl, she opened it.
Good luck.
You couldn't make your old man more proud than he already is.
She glanced at the parchment once more, a tightening sensation in her chest, before tearing it into small pieces and throwing them into the unlit fireplace.
Returning to the table, she noticed laughter and giggles all around. "What's this all about?" she asked, squeezing herself back between Pucey and Theo. When Theo didn't lift his eyes from the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, she continued. "Please don't tell me it's more rubbish about me."
Pucey replied, squeezing his eyes and leaning over Rose to read Theo's paper. "This one's about Potter, that git."
Rose snatched the paper and read the headline: "Harry Potter: Disturbed and Dangerous."
"That poor boy, he can't seem to catch a break," Rose said thoughtfully. They looked at her as if she had grown a second head. "Don't look at me like that! This," she pointed to the paper in front of her that claimed Potter, of all people, might be aligned with the Dark Arts, "is atrocious, classless, and degrading. Oh, when I see Malfoy—"
Before they could respond, Snape approached, causing all of them to flinch. "Miss Nott, I believe your friends might want to start heading to their exams," he said strictly. "If Mr. Montague and Mr. Pucey don't plan to fail yet another NEWT class."
The boys practically bolted from their seats. "Yes, sir," they chorused.
Theo remained seated, unfazed by the professor's presence. Snape turned his gaze to him. "Mr. Nott, you have a few minutes before your History of Magic exam. You should take your sister and head to the chamber off the Hall for family visitations."
With that, Snape swept away like a bat. The siblings exchanged worried looks, both well aware that Rose was in no mood to face their father.
Rose shrugged and rolled her eyes, getting up from the table. "Let's get it over with."
As they made their way to the chamber, Rose noticed Harry Potter standing alone by the Gryffindor table, looking particularly sullen. She wondered if he was afraid, perhaps his muggle family read the Wizarding papers and would have a right fit in the chamber? But, after what they've probably been put through as family this whole year, Rose couldn't blame them. She waved Theo off and approached Harry, linking her arm with his.
"Come on, you're a brave Gryffindor, you should be dragging me, the cowardly Slytherin."
She was most proud of herself. For the first time since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, Potter smiled at her. As they entered the chamber, Rose saw Fleur chatting excitedly in French with her little sister, and Krum speaking in hushed Bulgarian with his parents. Harry was called over by a loud-voiced woman, and Rose let him go, her mind elsewhere.
Her eyes scanned the room for Theo. When she found him, her jaw dropped. She expected their father, ready to pretend everything was fine. She prepared herself to chat and smile politely as if she didn't want to deck him in the face. Instead, she was face to face with the last person she imagined would be standing there.
Aunt Marion.
"Rose!" called a familiar voice from the opposite direction. Before she turned around, she saw Theo standing next to Aunt Marion with his arms crossed, giving her the most smug grin of all time.