December 28th, 1991
One of Rose's favourite activities during her time in Hogwarts has been exploring the sprawling halls of the castle.
She had always been a curious girl by nature, and when faced with an entire castle full of mysteries and magic, well, there was nothing she could do to resist the temptation to explore it all.
That Hannah shared that same curiosity and love for adventure only made it more difficult to ignore said temptation.
Almost every weekend after finishing homework Hannah and her -and Susan when they could convince her to come with them- would spend a couple hours of their day just walking around trying to find new and interesting rooms and ways to traverse the castle faster.
Exploring the castle during the break was entirely different.
Rose was the first to admit that she more often than not let her curiosity get the better of her. An interesting painting, a mysterious hallway, an armor out of place. In Hogwarts every little thing could contain a secret.
Once, she had even checked a broom cupboard that she had seen two older students get out of, all to pursue her quest to uncover the mysteries of the castle.
The entrance to a secret passage, no doubt.
…It had to be one, right? Why else would you enter a cramped broom cupboard with someone else if it wasn't because it led somewhere else?
Although she couldn't for the life of her find the secret passage in it before Hannah decided to drag her out, her face beet red.
She probably had been a little cranky because it was time for dinner.
Her friends usually did that. Keep her in check, not letting her lose too much time in fruitless searches or… losing her way back, lost in her curiosity.
Another thing that was different was that she had time to lose now. She could wake up early, have breakfast and then pretty much explore the whole day, stopping only for lunch and dinner.
Truth was that, with most of her friends gone, there weren't many things she could do with her free time after finishing her break assignments.
If she could, most of her time would be spent on dancing, or rather dueling, practice. Unfortunately, excess of physical activity could be detrimental to bettering oneself, or so her ballet instructor, Missus Cawthorne, used to say.
Break days were important, and doing too much at once meant that you wouldn't recover by the next practice.
So practicing 24/7 wasn't possible and, while she enjoyed reading every now and then, her mind could only take so many words before it also needed a break.
Thus, exploring.
She genuinely tried to not explore every nook and cranny, evere new little room and unfamiliar painting or every broom cupboard, because, as Hannah had said when she left, this was something she did with her friends.
But places she had already visited with her friends earlier in the year? There, she did not hold back.
As far as she was concerned, the hallways near the barrels that hid the Hufflepuff Common Room were fair play, and that included this particular moving painting she knew had a secret room behind it.
How did she know? Because, besides the fact that it was the only thing of note in this hallway with an inconspicuous absence of doors, the knight wouldn't shut up about the honour of being entrusted with keeping the room safe.
The Proud Knight wasn't known as such for being subtle.
Examining the silver frame, her fingers ghosting over the shiny surface, Rose tried her hardest not to fume. No hidden door knobs, or switches. No words hidden on the frame. Was it a password after all?
Shucks.
"Please, my fair maiden. Such a look on your face is unbecoming of a proper young lady." The deep voice of the old knight on the frame made her glance at him, meeting his mirthful eyes with her own.
"I wouldn't be making that face if you told me how to enter the hidden room behind your frame, you know?" Rose replied sourly.
"What kind of knight would I be if I let anyone enter the room that was entrusted to me to protect?" He asked with an amused smile, making Rose's cheeks puff up in a pout.
"The good kind?" She tried, and huffed when the knight didn't succumb to her pouting. "Ugh, okay, I get it, but can you give me any hint? Anything at all? Please, Sir?"
"A hint." He tried the word, and seemed to ruminate for a second, so still that he seemed like a normal painting. "A hint would be acceptable. Let's see if your mind is as prevalent as your sense of adventure, my fair maiden."
Rose almost rolled her eyes at the title the knight had given her, but held back and nodded with a grin.
"Look at me properly and ponder upon what I hold closest to my heart. That, my lady, is the key to the secret you seek."
Rose tilted her head, her mind working furiously to connect the dots.
She examined the painting once more. An knight, looking to be in his fifties- though, considering wizards and witches aged much more slowly than Muggles, it could easily be more-, standing on a grassy field, his long silver hair tied in a low ponytail, and his perfectly trimmed beard only marred by a small scar on his chin.
His iron armor seemed scratched and old, but otherwise well-maintained, like its age was proof of its quality. Over the armor he was wearing a black tabard with dark yellow accents, and on his chest stood proudly a coat of arms of the same colours.
Rose froze for a second, focusing on the last detail.
She had found the painting so close to her Common Room that she hadn't considered it weird that he was wearing her House's colours, but maybe…
"You're a Hufflepuff." She said, quite sure of it.
"Indeed." The knight declared. "By word of the Hat, I spent my youth in this castle as a member of the house of Hufflepuff, and then my later years as a teacher and the Head of House."
Oh, she thought, he's like Mrs Sprout. I wonder what he taught… Defense? Combat? She wondered how different things were in Hogwarts hundreds of years ago. Probably a lot, if an actual knight of all people was teaching here.
Rose shook her head, dismissing those thoughts before they distracted her from the matter at hand. She'd had time later to satisfy her curiosity.
Because she had her answer.
"The thing you hold closest to your heart… Is it loyalty?"
As soon as she said that, a smile overtook her face as she heard a soft- and satisfying- click coming from the frame. Like it had been just oiled, the painting-turned-door opened inwards with almost no sound… other than the pleased laugh of the knight.
"Haha! Indeed! Of course a member of my house would know the answer. Loyalty to our family, to our allies, to a cause. That will open many doors, young lady." He said proudly. "Enter, proud badger, but take care not to touch the blades. They are as sharp as the day they were forged, and I don't want to have to call a teacher to sew you back up."
Blades? She entered the fairly big room with careful steps before the sconces inside of it lit with a whoosh of fire.
Rose's eyes widened behind her glasses as she beheld an armory filled with weapons and a lot of suits of armor.
Racks containing swords, spears, maces, daggers, shields, their shiny metallic surfaces and silvery, wicked sharp edges glinting as they reflected the orange light of the lit torches.
Against the four walls there were several suits of armor standing shoulder to shoulder, each holding a kite shield with the crest of Hufflepuff in their arms. Rose sucked in a breath at the sight of the imposing dark steel they were made of. These were not decorations, like the ones that stood in the hallways. Some part of her knew that these armors were dangerous.
And, in the back of the room, the same battered armor with the black and yellow tabard from the painting stood proudly, seemingly guarding another door on the other side.
The clinking of metal made her jump and look to the side, where one of the empty suits of armor took a step forward and approached her.
"And of course, if you decide to not heed my warning, one of these fellows will promptly lead you back to the closest teacher." The old knight said, stern. "I let you in, but the equipment in this room could be dangerous if not taken seriously."
I guess he really was a teacher, huh.
"Then why is it still here?" To be completely honest, it was tempting to reach and grab one. Even now, Rose had to hold back a small part of herself that desired to take one of the beautiful blades on the nearest rack and swing it around like she was King Arthur himself.
"A last resort." He replied. "In case of an invading army, someone in a position of authority can summon the automata waiting here- and in other similar rooms- to raise in defense of the students."
An… invading army? She had lived in this castle for months, but this was probably the first time that it really sank in that Hogwarts was an ancient fortress that probably had seen war before… and that it was prepared to see it again.
"And the door behind your armor?"
"Oh? You noticed, of course, my pride and joy. My enchanted armor." He bragged and Rose took advantage of the fact that her back was turned to him to roll her eyes. "There are stairs behind that door that lead to the… fourth floor, I believe. It was originally built for students of Hufflepuff, a way to quickly and safely reach the safest place in the castle, their Common Room. Now it lays forgotten by most… but ready to be used if you wish." He remarked, the last part said almost conspiratorially.
Rose froze for a second… and then an almost predatory smile grew on her face.
Well, isn't that interesting?
Rose moved the heavy cloth with a small grunt and stepped out of the open hole on the wall, finally out of the narrow spiral staircase. She looked around, trying to place the hallway she was in, before smiling in satisfaction.
Rose had probably found her favourite secret passage in the whole school.
"It's really close to the History of Magic classroom." Rose whispered to herself, the smile still on her face. "This'll save us so much time."
And more important, of course, it was really close to the stairs to the Fifth Floor where her abandoned classroom was.
She didn't practice every day, of course, but having to rush to the fifth floor, then back down to freshen herself and eat breakfast, and then rush back up for her classes was one of the most annoying parts of her days.
Now that she had a more direct way here, her mornings would be much less rushed.
Hannah and Susan were going to love it.
She turned around, saw that the entrance to the spiral staircase was barely hidden behind a Hufflepuff banner, and- "Loyalty." -grinned when the wall closed, leaving only the banner as proof of the passage's existence.
"Brilliant." She loved magic so much.
Letting out a sigh of contentment, Rose started walking in the direction of the Grand Staircase. It should still be around five or six in the afternoon, but with the discovery that she had just made she felt she could probably head back to her room satisfied.
Instead of taking the secret passage back down, Rose decided to take the long way back. Maybe she could see something interesting on the way.
…She willfully ignored the part of her that remarked that this was why she needed to be kept in check by her friends. That part was boring, anyways.
It was when Rose was finally reaching the stairs, close to the tempting door that led to the Restricted Section of the library, when she caught sight of a classroom door left ajar.
Is someone else around here? She looked around, curious, but the hallways were deserted.
Curious. The door had no sign on it, so it wasn't a classroom that was used. Those usually had the name of the class on them. With a shrug, she let her curiosity once again get the best of her. She approached the door and… just peeked inside.
It was open, anyways, so that shouldn't be a problem.
The waning light of the sun, almost orange at this point, illuminated the almost empty room. There were some old desks and chairs piled against the walls to the left and right, and bookshelves with no books in them filled the wall behind the teacher's podium.
The interesting part was, however, the ornate gold framed mirror, almost as tall as the ceiling of the room, standing squarely in the middle of the classroom on two clawed feet. An inscription was engraved around the top, almost illegible from the door.
Approaching with hesitant steps, Rose focused on the words that seemed to be written in a foreign language. It seemed gibberish, to be honest.
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
She spent a moment or two uselessly trying to parse the meaning of it before her eyes wandered down.
There were people in the room with her.
She jumped and turned around in shock, letting out a squeak of fright. She had not heard anyone enter after her so how in the name of Mer- There was no one there.
Placing a hand against her chest, trying to control her hammering heart, Rose beheld the empty room in disbelief and then turned once more to the mirror, only to freeze.
That was not her in her reflection.
The girl looked like Rose. The same black hair, the same intense green eyes, the same height, and build, and face. But that was not her.
The Girl in the Mirror stood taller.
Not physically, no. There was a lack of… something on her shoulders, a weight that Rose didn't know was weighing her down, that let her stand straighter. Prouder.
Her hair was beautifully- lovingly, a part of her supplied- styled in a complex braid that crowned the side of her head and went down her back neatly. Not a strand was out of place.
She had no glasses on, the green eyes shining proudly with nothing to hide them. They shined so bright, they were so full of life and pride and love that Rose's seemed dull in comparison.
Dark.
And she had no scar, no lighting bolt on her brow.
She didn't know how much time she spent inspecting her, from her smile, to her beautiful white sundress that fit her perfectly -that was gifted to her, she somehow knew-, but eventually she shifted her focus to the other people reflected.
Aunt Petunia was there, shockingly.
Her aunt was smiling too, looking at The Girl in the Mirror with warm, loving eyes, eyes that she had never directed to Rose. Her aunt looked happy as she locked arms with another woman who, in turn, had the other arm wrapped around The Girl's shoulders.
Mum's beautiful, Rose dimly noted.
She was older than the last picture Rose had of her on her album, closer to Aunt Petunia's age, but she instantly recognized Mum's deep red hair and her green eyes. She was wearing a dress similar to The Girl's, almost like they had gotten them together to wear in pairs.
A soft smile graced Mum's lips every time she so much as glanced at The Girl in the Mirror, everytime she gently squeezed her shoulder.
Her eyes warmed up the same way Aunt Petunia's did.
Motherly, she realized. That was the look both were giving The Girl.
No wonder she didn't recognize it.
On the other side of The Girl was someone Rose didn't recognize. An indistinct shadow in the shape of a man, shifting every few seconds. Sometimes he was a short, stout man, looking strikingly similar to a Muggle teacher Rose once had, then he was tall and muscular -like Superman, a part of her mind supplied-, then, for a moment, he was Uncle Vernon.
Finally the shape settled.
The first thing she saw was the warm hazel eyes behind round-rimmed glasses, and she felt a whisper of familiarity hit her.
Where have I seen those eyes? She wondered as her eyes analyzed every part of the man's appearance.
He was tall, much taller than her, and taller than mum. He was also slim, but had strong arms and broad shoulders -arms that would be able to lift her easily and shoulders that she could ride comfortably, no matter how old she was-. Hair, black and messy like hers, crowned his head, windswept like he had just come home from work riding a broom at full speed -he wanted to see her, so he rushed back-.
A proud, almost cocky, grin dominated his face. Because of The Girl, Rose guessed. Like everything The Girl did was a source of pride to him, like there was nothing she could do to disappoint him.
It didn't matter that she wasn't in the same House he had been, or that she wasn't as talented in Transfiguration as he was, he still was proud.
He was her Dad, so of course he was.
Rose stared blankly at the impossible sight in front of her, her mind filled with so many thoughts that it might as well be white noise. And it was impossible. Magic was wondrous and almost limitless in what it could do, but it cannot return the dead back to life.
She had checked.
Rose's eyes narrowed behind her glasses.
So if it could not possibly be real, then that makes what I'm seeing a lie…
And with that thought in her mind, the smile on the face of The Girl in the Mirror seemed… mocking.
Look at you, she seemed to say, frumpy, lonely, unloved, wilting Rose. Everything you ever wanted is here, but it's mine and there's nothing you can do about it.
The wonderful sight turned sour, the smiles on Mum and Dad and Aunt Petunia's faces now cut like the swords she had seen just a few minutes ago.
Because it wasn't real.
They would never look at her that way. Mum and Dad were dead and buried and Aunt Petunia would never love her like that, no matter how much she desired it.
This sight…It was…It was sickening.
Rose didn't like this mirror. This mockery.
She wanted it gone.
Anger. Rage, red hot and burning, surged from her stomach, to her chest and traveled down her arm. The arm she had unconsciously already raised, her wand aloft in her hand.
And then, suddenly another hand, one old and wrinkly, but unyielding as steel, wrapped around her wrist, and twisted her arm until she was pointing to the right and up. A bright red light left her wand, taking her anger with it and leaving her empty.
The moment just before her spell hit the wall, she saw from the corner of her eye how one of the desks nearby shifted, extended and turned into a metal wall that moved in between her and the results of her magic.
Rose jumped when the wall her spell hit exploded, sending plumes of dust and debris flying everywhere. The multiple clangs of the rocks hitting the metal wall made her suck in a breath, her mind supplying her the image of what would have happened to her if the protection wasn't there.
"My, what a wonderful demonstration of an intent-based spell." Albus Dumbledore jovially said, letting go of her wrist. "No incantation, no wand motions, only emotion. Impressive for someone your age. So impressive I would have given you a point if said spell wasn't used to destroy school property." His words were light but there was a sternness in his eyes that made her cringe and curl into herself.
"Sir! I- That wasn't-" That wasn't her intention? The thought alone brought her shame. It had been her intention to destroy the mirror. She wouldn't lie, not to the headmaster. "I'm sorry. I just… couldn't watch that fake thing anymore…"
Rose glanced at the mirror and just as fast looked away as she met her mocking eyes.
The headmaster looked at her for a moment and then sighed. "It's… understandable, Miss Potter. Many a wizard more aged and experienced than you lost themselves to the Mirror of Erised." He shook his head ruefully. "It's my fault for leaving this artifact alone in an unlocked room, even if for a moment."
"The Mirror of Erised? Is that what it's called?" She glanced at the inscription on top and saw the word written on there. Rose hesitated for a second. "Why did it show me that stuff?"
Dumbledore followed her eyes and then chuckled. "I can't even remember how many nights I spent pouring into ancient tomes of bygone cultures and languages, trying to decipher those words." He said, lost in memories. "Only to learn that, sometimes, the answer is in front of our eyes." And then he gestured to the mirror itself. "I show you not your face, but your heart's desire. The words were just mirrored."
In spite of the situation, of how her heart felt like it had been just mauled, Rose couldn't stop the giggle at the defeated tone of the headmaster.
"So it shows us what we want?" she asked after a moment, smothering her smile.
"Not just what we want, but what we truly desire." He corrected her. "For example one might think a person who has not eaten in days might want food, and thus be shown that, but in reality what they truly desire might be different. Riches, so he won't go hungry anymore, family or maybe friends, so he could resort to them in his time of need, or maybe they desire stability. A job, an opportunity to change their life by their own hands."
"Even if it cannot be true?" The headmaster nodded. So all she had seen had been a reflection of a fantasy her heart had created. "So, what it showed me, it wasn't real at all?" Something in her broke a little at the words, at the admission. How… cruel.
"It's as real as our dreams and fantasies are." He answered with a soft, understanding smile, before turning serious. "And as such, it might be tempting to just lose yourself to what it shows… but it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Grand sorcerers have withered away in front of the mirror, the dreams it showed them much more desirable than the reality they lived in." He warned her and Rose felt a shiver go down her spine.
She could see it. If she was less knowledgeable, more gullible, she might have been tempted to just gaze at the mirror for hours on end, so wonderful was the dream it showed.
Rose nodded, understanding.
"Alas, my warning might be moot, of course, as you might have realized that on your own. Your rather, ah, explosive reaction might indicate," with a negligent wave of his wand, the steel wall returned to being a desk, and Rose could see the gouge the size of her head she had left on the wall. She cringed. "that you don't enjoy the deceitful, if wonderful, sight the Mirror of Erised offers."
"I'm truly sorry! I didn't even know I could do that!" She looked at the destroyed wall. "I can fix that… Probably." She amended. "There's a spell to repair stuff, right? If I could rush back to my room, or- or the library, I- I can try to fix it."
"Oh? I might be tempted to let you work through it… It might be good practice." Dumbledore said with a curious glint in his eyes, and Rose was seriously about to rush back to her room to check her books when he raised a hand, shaking his head. "No, it's fine. This has been partly my fault as well. Next time I'll remember to lock the door." He sighed and pulled his wand out of his sleeve.
"Reparo." He intoned clearly and Rose focused her attention on the wand motions, trying to commit the slow but sure movements to mind as the rocks and dust raised in the air.
Part of her noted how the headmaster was probably doing it that way to teach her. He had shown her how he could cast magic without most of the steps.
Like time had been reversed, the wall filled up with all the debris, and soon enough there was no proof of her… unintentional vandalism.
Rose sighed in relief.
"Ah, that look brings me back to my own youth. I was fortunate enough to not blow up a wall in front of my headmaster, but many curtains and tapestries suffered under my reckless conduct." He said with amusement, lost in his memories… and Rose had to wonder if being magical makes everyone go a little barmy, or if it was just the headmaster.
His expression, though, brought a question to her mind. She hesitated for a moment, before deciding to just go with her curiosity.
The worst he could say is no.
"Sir? Can I ask you a question?"
"You already have. But you may, of course, ask another. I might even answer." he replied mirthfully and Rose rolled her eyes.
Such a teacher reply.
"What do you see when you see the mirror?" It was probably deeply personal… but Rose was curious if he felt anything like she felt.
The headmaster took a moment to answer.
He turned to the Mirror of Erised, and an expression filled with so much emotion that Rose couldn't fully parse appeared on his face for a blink of an eye.
Was it anger? Sorrow? Fondness? Nostalgia? Everything at once? Or something else entirely?
She didn't know, but she felt her chest constrict in guilt. I shouldn't have asked.
Then he smiled placidly. "I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks. It gets terribly cold in this castle sometimes, and one can never have enough pairs of good socks." Rose stared, understanding the non-answer for what it was. Of course he wouldn't answer sincerely.
Or maybe Dumbledore was a little touched in the head and he truly wanted socks.
Maybe both.
Then Dumbledore turned to her. "And you, my dear?"
Rose sucked in a breath, and risked one last look.
She paused and tilted her head.
"I see... myself, wearing a dress someone gifted to me, but this one is new, pretty and white." She then smiled, trying to imitate the smile Dumbledore had worn when he gave his answer. "And it fits me perfectly."
December 29th, 1991
Rose snorted into her hand, forgetting everything about propriety as she bursted into giggles
The two teachers sitting with her at a table in Mrs McGonagall's office reacted quite differently to her laugh.
Professor Flitwick chuckled, amused alongside her, but Mrs McGonagall had a severe expression on her face… though Rose liked to think that it was tinged with fondness.
"Do you find the story of your father turning my hair into a lion's mane in front of the whole school amusing, Miss Potter? Or you, Flitwick?" she asked, and this time Rose didn't imagine the small twitch of the teacher's lips as she kept her expression schooled, like she was holding back a smile.
"I'm sorry!" Rose managed to let out between chuckles, trying to force down her embarrassed blush. "I can't help imagining it!"
The other teacher just smiled. "Just getting lost in my memories, Minerva. You have to admit that you looked quite magnificent that evening." Professor Flitwick added, a bark of laughter escaping him when his fellow teacher scowled at him, and Rose's giggles renewed.
She could hardly help it.
McGonagall let out a huff, probably regretting telling her that story at all, before returning to her tea, lifting the cup with easy grace.
Rose took a second to control herself, trying to clear her mind of the image of the aloof and stern Minerva McGonagall, her black and green witch's hat placed neatly as always over a proud mane of golden brown hair… which was a little hard, but after taking a deep breath her giggles petered out, leaving only a grin on her face.
Like she said, she could hardly help it. She was happy.
She loved these meetings. After talking with Dumbledore, and after that mirror, Rose decided to ask Professor Flitwick and Mrs. McGonagall, the two teachers closest to her parents, about them and their time in Hogwarts and they were more than glad to satisfy her curiosity.
From Mum's tenure as a prefect, and later Head Girl, her fiery attitude when dealing with bullies and troublemakers, her prodigious talent in charms and, to Rose's shock and slight dismay, potions, to Dad's growth from a mischievous child to a talented yet troublemaking teenager, and then eventually becoming a respectable young adult.
They had even shown her pictures! Some of her dad wearing his Quidditch uniform, or her mum in prefect duties.
There was even one of them together as Head Boy and Girl!
McGonagall even promised to ask around and gather more pictures for her, like the ones of their wedding day.
Although Rose knew that most of them would be in her house, frozen in time alongside every other belonging of theirs, she would take anything she could get.
For now, though, her head and heart was filled with stories and anecdotes of the lives of James Potter and Lily Evans.
And this afternoon was all about her dad and his friends' mischief all around Hogwarts. Staying out after curfew, sneaking into Hogsmeade, the village near Hogwarts, playing pranks and tricks against other students. Some to teachers.
At first, she was quite surprised that Mum really disliked Dad when they were her age, but the shock faded once she realized how much of a hellion James Potter had been.
Being completely honest, the image she had of her dad being some kind of Prince Charming had been mostly eroded away the more she heard about him… but she preferred it that way.
Now he felt more real. He wasn't a shapeless shadow shown in a mirror.
He was more human… if more flawed.
It had been kind of a disappointment to learn that Dad had been a bit of a bully, at least until he grew up and matured.
Both Flitwick and McGonagall said that the pranks had been mostly harmless… but that was probably in an effort to not ruin her image of her dad, because Rose realized that mostly harmless meant that there were some that were harmful.
Having been the victim of her cousin's incredibly hilarious pranks, she knew that what some might consider funny, to the victim could be cruel, and she was a little sad that her Dad had been the kind of person who could be cruel to others.
Fortunately, it seemed that he eventually grew out of that phase… but she really didn't like her image of Dad's child self to be similar to Dudley, of all people.
Ew.
Still, Rose didn't like disliking her dad, so for now she just… let it go and accepted it as it was. Dad had been a little mean as a Hogwarts student but grew up to be a good man. Mum grew to love him, even though she knew first hand of his antics, so both things can be true at the same time.
Was it too forgiving? Rose didn't know, but she wanted to be selfish and continue to admire James Potter.
"Sorry." She said again, this time more sincerely. "That was rude of me, Mrs McGonagall."
The teacher let out another huff and shook her head. "It's fine Miss Potter, I can't hardly blame you for just laughing." Then, a smile appeared fleetingly on her face. "Besides, I have already punished a Potter for that transgression. James got quite familiar with the bathrooms of Gryffindor Tower once I found out it had been him."
"One of the few times you did manage to catch him, if my memory isn't beginning to fail me." Professor Flitwick added mirthfully.
Mrs McGonagall tutted. "That boy had an uncanny ability to escape the consequences of his actions. Him and his friends. I still wonder how they did it."
The invisibility cloak probably helped. She gathered that her dad made plenty of use of the Potter heirloom to escape punishment for his pranks.
It had been almost creepy, seeing no reflection in the mirror of her room when she tried her dad's cloak. Even when she knew where she was, it was like there was no one in the room at all.
Mrs McGonagall turned to her. "I'm glad beyond measure that you did not inherit his penchant for mischief."
Rose decided to keep mum about her fondness for teasing her friends or the fact that she had already destroyed a part of the school by accident… just in case.
Still, there was something she did want to talk about.
"Excuse, Mrs McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, could I ask about Dad's friends? About who they were, what they were like." Mrs McGonagall had mentioned them a few times, a band of miscreants her father was part of -leader of?- during his years in Hogwarts.
"Ah, yes, of course. Your father liked to spend his time getting up to up good with three of his friends." Mrs McGonagall explained with a put upon tone. "Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew…" then she hesitated, the words seemingly getting stuck in her mouth.
"And Sirius Black." Rose finished for her, getting surprised looks in response. Flitwick recovered faster.
"Ah, you heard about him?" He asked, his squeaky voice serious, before his expression cleared in realization. "Right, Albus did say you went to London with Miss Tonks. You met with Andromeda."
Rose nodded. "Mrs Andi apologized for the actions of her family. Told me enough about why he was in Azkaban." Rose replied, her tone hard. "I'm more interested in the other two… Remus and Peter, you said? What happened to them?" She asked, 'Why are they not in my life?' she meant.
"Both were Gryffindors in the same year as your parents, and they were both great wizards and even greater people." Minerva McGonagall said, proud. "Peter… Small and kind Peter. He was lost to us at the end of the war. He was the one that tried to stop Sirius Black from getting away with his betrayal… One of his last victims. But that is not a discussion to have over tea. Or at all."
Rose nodded, though she could feel her throat tighten a little. Again, Sirius Black, taking everything and everyone from me.
The more Rose heard about him, the more she hated him.
"Remus… Remus was a stellar student, in spite of the company he liked to keep." Mrs McGonagall added the last part with a slight shake of head, her eyes lost in the past. "One of my prefects since fifth year, alongside Lily, and would have been the Head Boy in his seventh year if not for his refusal of the position." Her tone was… fond. Remus Lupin had been probably one of her favourite students. "He's… in good health, working in the Muggle world last time I heard of him."
"Is he in the United Kingdom? Do you think I could meet him?" She asked, her tone eager. It was hard not to be, considering this meant she could hear about Dad's time in Hogwarts from one of his friends.
Mrs McGonagall hesitated, looked at Professor Flitwick and he shrugged with an easy smile. "We… would have to ask about his last whereabouts and contact him, but I see no problem with it, as long as your aunt and uncle approve." Rose tried to keep her grimace to a minimum. Hopefully the fact that Remus Lupin worked as a Muggle would make it easier for Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon to accept him visiting… or her visiting him. "Albus probably knows best about how to go about it." She then smiled. "Remus will surely be ecstatic to meet you. He has asked about you in the past, you know."
Rose smiled back, already formulating the thousands of questions she would probably ask Remus Lupin.
"We'll make sure to ask Albus about him in our next meeting before the next term begins." Professor Flitwick confirmed with a smile.
Then another thought crossed her mind.
What about her Mum's friends?
She was about to ask about them when professor McGonagall stood up abruptly, her eyes focused on the window, or rather, on the people running around the snowy grounds outside. "In the name of- One day! Can't they just behave for one day?"
Rose followed the teacher's eyes and had to work to keep herself from laughing when she saw Professor Quirrel being pursued and pelted by flying snowballs.
The culprit, or rather culprits, were hidden… if one looked from ground level, but from the window in McGonagall's office they were rather obvious.
Fred and George Weasley -or is that George and the other Fred?, Rose thought wryly, as those two really enjoyed the confusion they brought with their names- were crouching behind a bench, their wands aloft and a pile of snowballs at their side, snickering with every strike to the turban on Quirrel's head.
Not that she blamed them. It was hard to keep the smile out of her own face. Was it petty of her to enjoy the creepy teacher's suffering? Probably.
Did she care? Certainly not.
…Maybe she had more stuff in common with her dad than she had thought. Better be careful with that.
McGonagall huffed and headed to the door with hurried steps, intent on stopping the troublemakers.
She opened the door and looked at Rose with a critical look. "I can't imagine how terrible it would be for a second James to join those two in their antics." She said. "Do not follow your father's example, please. Not in this." she almost begged and Rose had to nod at the sharp look she was given.
And then she left.
"Now, Miss Rose, I'm afraid we have to cut this little talk short." Professor Flitwick said with a grin, amusement rolling off him as he watched the twins continue the attack on their hapless victim. "The next term is about to start and I find myself as busy as a bee. Need to prepare for the return of my ravens and, of course, for my classes." Rose giggled. He really loves teaching, huh.
She nodded and stood up from her seat, stretching a little. That was fun.
The diminutive teacher jumped down from his chair and headed out, Rose following after, closing the door of McGonagall's office behind them.
Professor Flitwick turned around one last time, a calculating look on his face.
"Ah, yes! I heard from Albus that you are interested in the art of Dueling, Miss Rose." He smiled when Rose nodded, uncertain. His smile was a little sharp.
"Great, great! I wonder if I could sneak a look in one of your practices? I happen to know a thing or two about dueling. I can probably give you some pointers if you wish." He offered, an amused glint in his beady eyes.
"Ah yes?, I mean, yes, of course!" She exclaimed after a moment of bafflement. "I'm having some trouble with some of my spell chains, so I could use some help!" Rose smiled. It was professor Flitwick who lit the interest she had for dueling in the first place, so she was more than okay with him giving her some tips.
"Brilliant! Like I said, I'm a little busy at the moment, but a week or two after the start of the term, once things settle, I'll pay you a visit." And with that, he left, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.
Turning around with a pep to her step, Rose grinned as well, now even more excited for the start of term. Her friends coming back and Dueling lessons under Flitwick?
She couldn't wait.
January 1st, 1992
The winds of winter could be heard buffeting against the windows, the faint staccato of the rattling of the glass a background to the sounds of laboured breaths, of rubber soles moving on stone floors, and of magic flying through the air.
Noises that were becoming familiar in an abandoned classroom of the fifth floor of Hogwarts.
Crossing her feet and lowering her knees, Rose dodged under an imaginary spell, letting it pass over her shoulder. Then, like her legs had been a coiled spring, she jumped into a pirouette to the side, evading the stinging hex that Susan often liked to chain together with her initial spell.
In the air, Rose closed her eyes, and her wand moved. "Luxtelum." She whispered, seeing a bright shooting star in her mind.
Her practice room, often only illuminated by the blue-bell flames she conjured each time she came here, was then fully lit by the shining arrow that left the tip of her wand, the white light of the spell erasing the shadows of the room as it advanced through the air.
It was slow. so slow that there was no doubt in Rose's mind that Susan could easily dodge it, but it was bright. Perfect for a distraction.
A flashbang, Hannah usually called her opener.
No sooner than the soles of her sneakers hit the ground than she was once more spinning, one of her legs raised and held in an angle to the floor, her skirt flaring around like the petals of a flower, as she tried to predict where her imaginary Susan would strike next.
Rose spun and skipped around the room, her allegros maybe not as graceful or flowery as they had been back in the studio in Little Whinging, but certainly sharper.
Sudden change of directions, faster spins, and her eyes focused not on an imaginary audience, but on an opponent.
She was not only dancing, she was dueling as well.
And her wand danced in her hand.
"Dolor." A red stinging hex shot from her wand as her third spin finished, and hit the wall a little too to the left of where she wanted. Susan would have dodged that. "Luxtelum, Flipendo, Colora!"
Still, she continued, arrows of light, harmless charms and small jinxes and hexes leaving her wand as she danced around following the music in her memories.
It was difficult.
Many of the ballet moves she had learnt needed her arms to be in a specific position for ease of movement and balance, and so, many times she almost stumbled and had to compensate when her wand motions strayed far from her body.
But despite how sloppy she must look from the outside, despite the many times she could swear she could hear MIssus Cawthorne tutting in displeasure, Rose forced herself to continue.
It would take some time until she could cast magic and dance at the same time as seamlessly as she wanted.
It would take longer if she didn't practice.
In a move that made her legs ache -and one that would have made Missus Cawthorne mad by its suddenness and lack of grace-, Rose forcefully stopped the momentum she had picked up, and lowered her knees in a deep pie, imagining a spell flowing either to the side she had been spinning towards or, if Susan reacted fast enough -and Rose knew she could-, over her head.
Her wand lowered from the last jab of a hex into the initial downward motion of the leg-locker jinx. "Locomotor Mortis." she declared as she completed the motions.
As soon as she said the first syllable, Rose knew she had messed up. The chant was too long.
With a sigh, she watched the red bolt of light hit the center of the wall. By the time it did, she was sure Susan could have hit her with two shorter chant spells of her own.
A chastising hoot and a ruffling of feathers seemed to agree with her.
Rose pouted and sent her seemingly dueling expert owl a reproachful look. "I know, Hedwig. If I'm staying still, only two or three syllables. More than that and I'm a sitting duck. You don't have to remind me every time." She grumbled and wiped the sweat off her brow, ignoring the offended whistle that she understood as 'Yes, I do have to remind you, because you do the same every time.'
Judgy owl, Hedwig was.
Trying to regain control of her laboured breath, Rose approached one of the desks on the side of the room, or more specifically the pitcher of water on it, and filled a glass with cool water before taking a seat.
She really needed to thank Hannah for nabbing it from the Common Room before the break started…to Susan's consternation. Still, she wondered how it refilled itself with water every morning,
In a flutter of wings, Hedwig flew from her perch and settled on the table in front of her, demanding some attention now that she was not dancing around.
"Yes, yes, your Majesty." She said in a put upon tone, but couldn't keep the amused smile from her face. "Just a little while, though. This is the last chance to practice properly before the break is over." Rose whispered, scratching Hedwig's beautiful white plumage where the owl liked.
Winter break was finally ending. She was both happy and sad about that.
On one hand, her friends were finally returning. In a day, the castle will be full of other students once again. She'd reunite with Hannah, Susan, Miss Penny, and Miss Dora. She would get to fly again with Justin and Megan, and all the other members of the Quidditch team.
On the other hand, though…
Her free time would probably disappear with the start of the term.
These past few days in Hogwarts had been… relaxing. Idyllic.
And full of revelations.
She wouldn't say she preferred the calm of the almost empty castle, but she knew that many of the activities she had come to enjoy during the break would come to an end, or be really limited.
Exploring the empty castle on her own for hours, enjoying a book in the library without it being necessary for homework, practicing her spellcasting freely.
She probably won't have time to keep meeting with Mrs McGonagall and Mr Flitwick, and her dueling training will have to go down in priority.
According to what the teachers said, classes would begin to pick up on difficulty soon and, while Rose was a little advanced in Transfiguration and Charms, she knew that some of the other classes would be a challenge for her, and thus eat a lot of time she could use for other stuff.
Between Snape's dislike of her and Professor Binns' droning voice, she knew she was in for a treat next term… and the less she thought about the -fake- stuttering of Quirinus Quirrel, the better.
Next term was going to be busy.
And speaking of busy: Quidditch practices.
After winning against Ravenclaw in November, Hufflepuff would have their second match of the season against Gryffindor after the new term started, and, while she wasn't officially on the team, Captain Corner and Miss Dora had said that the Quidditch practices would be more intense in preparation for it.
She was excited about that, to be honest. She loved flying, feeling the wind buffeting against her, the excitement, the adrenaline… the freedom. But, again, more Quidditch practice meant less practice time for her dancing.
So, here she often had been during the break, occupying some of the time she had after finishing her homework practicing the few spells she had learnt during the year, trying to learn a few more that interested her, and then trying to incorporate some of them to her dance routine.
Miss Penny's book had already seen some use in this very room.
It had been hard… but so, so fun.
That and more she spoke to Hedwig as she continued her caresses.
Minutes passed, the hushed whispers of a conversation of a girl and her owl being the only thing filling the silence in this part of the castle.
A small shiver ran through her back now that she was cooling down.
And with that…
Hedwig eyed her with some displeasure when she stopped her ministrations, but she had already rested more than enough.
Downing another glass of water, Rose stood up and returned to the centre of the room.
Just as she did so, she caught sight of the white snow falling outside. She smiled, her mind falling back to the small moments she experienced during the Christmas Break.
And then she thought of the Mirror.
Her hold on her wand tightened and her smile faded, her shoulders squaring in some anger, before she let it go with a sigh.
It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, an aged voice reminded her. But it was hard to not turn around and search for the cause of her anger to finish what she had tried that evening.
Shaking her head, Rose raised her wand and used the image of green motherly eyes and of a pride-filled smile under round glasses to fuel her determination.
Fake as it had been, the image wouldn't leave her head.
Might as well use it.