Chapter Text
Rose was right when she said Harry would be beside himself with fury over Sirius Black’s betrayal. After the two had bumped into one another he had immediately launched into an explanation/rant about what he had overheard.
Her heart ached for Harry, wishing now more than ever that she had gone with him to Hogsmeade so she’d have been with him when he heard this for the first time.
What was done was done though. Harry, after getting everything out, had listened as Rose relayed what Marcus had told her. Harry had then dragged Rose up to Gryffindor Tower, not bothering to look to see if any other Gryffindors were around and dug out the photo album Hagrid had given them in their first year.
There he was.
The man standing next to their parents on their wedding day was not someone the twins wasted a lot of thoughts on. He looked very handsome, dressed impeccably with an easy grin on his face. It was hard to connect that man to the hollowed out looking man that now adorned every newspaper, magical and Muggle alike, in Britain.
The two were then joined by Ron and Hermione, both looking hesitant and shooting wary looks at Rose, unsure if she knew. Attempting to do what Rose did not bother, as she knew it was a futile endeavour right now, Ron and Hermione tried to calm Harry down.
Needless to say, it did not go well and ended with Harry stalking out of Gryffindor Tower to Hagrid’s small hut on Hogwarts’ grounds. His attempt at releasing some anger was brought to an abrupt stall as, right as they arrived, Hagrid tearfully clung to Harry. After a moment of confusion, the sobbing half-giant then passed Harry a letter.
Buckbeak was getting a trial due to the insistence of Lucius Malfoy.
The conversation that followed was not any more pleasant than the one the four thought they were going to have but at least it distracted Harry from his anger, taking the wind right out of his sails. The four kids readily agreed to help Hagrid try and save Buckbeak; though, from her conversation with Marcus, Rose didn’t see a great likelihood of them succeeding.
Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armour, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron’s pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.
As with the years before, Harry spent Christmas Eve in Rose’s dorm and Christmas morning the two were greeted with the quickly becoming expected sight of some presents at the end of the large bed.
“Merry Christmas, Ro’!”
Rose gave Harry a smile as they slid down to the end of the bed. They each got their customary sweater from Mrs. Weasley as well as numerous baked goods that Harry started shuffling through. While Harry did that, Rose grabbed a small book-shaped brown package. For a second Rose thought it was from Hermione but dismissed it as she didn’t see her friend’s name anywhere on the package. In fact, it didn’t even have a card.
Tearing off the packaging, Rose uncovered a decent sized notebook. It was dark green, almost black really, and in the centre it had some sort of crest. The thing was washed out, bits of it missing entirely, but Rose could make out what appeared to be three ravens just below the centre and a faded banner beneath them too deteriorated to read. Just above that she spotted what she thought was a hand that was clutching what she assumed was a sword. Despite its rather haggard cover, the rest of the book seemed to be in good condition.
Rose opened it up to the first page and saw faded writing inscribed on the inside of the cover.
A Journal for the inquisitive philosophers of the world.
Study, learn, and write. Open the book with your topic of study in mind and your pages will be revealed. All your research in one place, easy to access, ready to use. When you find a new topic, close the book and think of a fresh start.
Limitless studies of knowledge await!
Brows furrowed; Rose glanced over at the blank page waiting to be written on. Looking over at her desk where a quill stood waiting to be used, she summoned it to herself. At the top of the page, she wrote: Wizarding Law. Shutting the book, she thought of another topic she planned to start writing about— Wizarding Customs. Opening the book, she was greeted with a blank first page and she slowly wrote her title. Closing it once more she thought back to wizarding law and opened the book again; there, at the top of the page, was her wizarding law title.
Rose felt a smile grow on her face. What an ingenious creation. Merlin knew she went through more notebooks than the average person and constantly had to keep multiple books in her bag in case she had a new idea or something to add to one topic or another. Now it would all be here in this book, ready for her to write in. She was already thinking of some past studies that she had in other notebooks that she wanted to rewrite in this book, so they’d be more at hand.
“I don’t believe it,” Harry suddenly said hoarsely.
Head turning, Rose looked down at the object that had rolled out onto the bed out of brown packaging similar to the one wrapped around the book. Rose didn’t need to ask what it was, Harry had dragged her to the broomstick shop in Diagon Alley multiple times throughout the summer, always eager to go look at the newest, top-of-the-line, broom.
A Firebolt.
The handle glittered as Harry picked it up. Rose could see it vibrating slightly and then Harry let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. The twins’ eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.
Who had gotten Harry a Firebolt?
“Is there a card?” Rose asked quietly, already feeling like there wouldn’t be.
Harry tore through the wrapping paper and came up empty.
“I can’t believe this,” Harry muttered gleefully. He jumped out of the bed, pulling the broom towards himself.
Rose’s mind was whirring. The Firebolt was the most expensive broom on the market and while they had quite the pile of gold sitting in their vault, there was no way Rose would let Harry buy one. Even Harry, who quite obviously adored the thing, wouldn’t spend that much to buy it.
But who would buy him one? They didn’t have any relatives in the wizarding world; Merlin knew the Dursleys would choke and die before spending more than a pound on them. She thought over the people who had a semi-friendly relationship with Harry and she couldn’t imagine even one of them dropping this kind of cash on him. Even Dumbledore, as much as he obviously wanted to be in their favour, or Harry’s favour, wouldn’t buy him something like this.
“I gotta go show Ron!” Harry said excitedly.
Despite the mystery surrounding Harry’s new broom, Rose couldn’t help but grin at the pure joy on his face. Not bothering to change, he rushed out of the room, calling out, “see you at lunch!” as he went.
Shaking her head, Rose began to clean up the small mess the two of them had made. After throwing the wrapping paper into the small wastebasket by her desk she placed a stasis charm on the food so it would last and then folded up their sweaters neatly. She placed them in one of the compartments in her trunk and then picked up her book.
Rose had never come across such a thing in all her research. Even when she was in Diagon Alley she hadn’t seen anything like it, and she knew she scoured every inch of that place. Her mind kept going back to the crest, wondering what it meant exactly. Was it just the creator's crest?
Shaking the thoughts from her mind for now, she placed the book in the drawer of her bedside table and got ready for the day. She knew she could take her time; she highly doubted Harry and Ron would be able to tear themselves away from the broom before breakfast was over. So, like Harry said, they’d meet up for lunch.
Lunch was a disaster.
Well, no—
Lunch was bearable; although having to listen to Professor Trelawney try and predict things had been tiresome but on the plus side Professor McGonagall’s responding quips had been very amusing.
The disaster came after lunch. Harry and Ron had immediately rushed up to the Gryffindor dorms to get another look at Harry’s new Firebolt and the two had been sitting around admiring the broom from every possible angle until Professor McGonagall came striding in accompanied by Hermione.
Long story short, Harry’s broom had been confiscated and was now going to be stripped down for any sign of foul play— Rose was beyond glad that she hadn’t told the group about her new book from ‘no one’— and now Harry and Ron were pissed at Hermione.
Hermione remained stubborn in the fact that she was sure the broom had come from Sirius Black and was hexed in some sort of way. Ron remained stubborn in the fact that Hermione ratted them out to a professor. Harry was upset too, which Rose had to admit was rather new, Harry typically only held anger for their relatives, Snape, and Malfoy (plus his little posse of Slytherins).
She knew Harry was worried about his Firebolt being damaged beyond repair by the professors scanning it and Rose tried to assure him that it would work just as well after everything was done; even going so far as to explain the theory behind anti-jinx spells.
Harry wasn’t as appreciative about that as she thought he should have been but she’d let it slide.
Hermione was now avoiding Gryffindor Tower, more specifically Harry and Ron, and now spent most of her time in the library alone. Rose would see her there from time to time but did not go out of her way to talk to her. She could see the reasoning behind Hermione’s actions but the fact that she went behind Harry’s back and refused to show any form of regret or remorse for doing so had Rose taking a step back, physically and mentally, from her.
Rose wasn’t so lost in her logical thinking not to realize she was a bit of a cynic. She was beyond certain that the only person she could depend on was her brother and had been certain of that for years. She had reluctantly made room for Ron and Hermione, the two proving to be very loyal friends over the years, but she had unconsciously been waiting for either one of them to betray her or Harry in some way.
Usually being proven right felt better than this.
Perhaps she was being too harsh but in her experience it was only a matter of time before people disappointed you. It happened every time. She didn’t mention this often to Harry. In fact, the last time she did was at the beginning of this year. Harry had told her at the time that perhaps the reason it felt like people kept disappointing them was because Rose kept looking for them to do it.
Rose didn’t bother replying and hadn’t said another word until Halloween.
Either way, Rose wasn’t spending any time with Hermione, nor was she inclined to sit around and listen to Ron go on about Hermione betraying them, so she was in the Slytherin common room, sitting in front of the main fireplace.
The Slytherin House had more people going through it now as the winter holidays came to an end and the new term approached. Most Slytherin’s left her to her own devices, as per the norm, it was only the fourth to seventh years who were aware of the change in hierarchy, so Marcus remained the imposing figurehead he had been since Rose first arrived at Hogwarts.
Little Malfoy still strutted around like he owned the place and, honestly, it amused her to no end. She was readily looking forward to their sixth year as she knew Malfoy would walk back in here expecting to take the head spot for his own.
Those older than Rose were very respectful towards her now though that’s not to say they were ever disrespectful. At first they remained distant and pretended she didn’t exist; then when they learned about her Parseltongue abilities they became more cautiously neutral with her. Now though, whenever she’d pass one of them in the hall, they’d give her a slight nod of recognition that never failed to have her smothering a smile.
Slytherins could be an amusing bunch when they knew they couldn’t see all the pieces being played.
“Potter.”
Rose glanced up from her absent stare at the book on her lap in slight surprise. Marcus was standing just at the edge of the seating area, an amused gleam in his eyes at catching her by surprise. Giving a quiet huff, Rose gestured to the seat across from her.
Despite their rather amicable friendship, Marcus still had yet to really refer to her by her given name. Rose wondered if that was because he didn’t want to be that familiar with her or because he wanted to appear respectful of her. Based on his attempts to stay on her good side, she’d guess the latter.
Marcus swiftly took a seat at Rose’s silent invitation and dropped his bag off of his shoulder, moving it to his lap in one smooth motion as both hands wrapped around it.
“I brought the books you wanted,” he said with little fanfare.
That had Rose sitting up straighter.
Near the end of her second year, after Hermione was attacked, Rose had asked Marcus for books on wizarding customs and laws. With how hectic things had ended that year and then summer coming along, she hadn’t been able to spare much thought on the topic after they discussed it.
Marcus had told her that Purebloods were particularly cagey about their wizarding custom books, apparently some families had their own traditions mixed in with the main base of it all and a lot of it they didn’t want anyone else outside the family knowing. As such, it would take him a while to procure the books she asked for.
He had wanted to gather all the necessary books and give them to her all at once rather than hand them over as he got one. Rose didn’t complain, considering the topics she was delving into she’d rather be able to pour right into it rather than be forced to stop as she finished a book. Now Marcus handed over his bag that didn’t look overly stuffed but Rose didn’t let that fool her. Wizards were an innovative community and no doubt the bag had expansion charms on it as well as a feather-light charm so it was easier to handle.
Marcus glanced over his shoulder before he leaned closer to Rose. “I would be cautious about reading those just anywhere.” He told her quietly and got a raised brow in return. “Most of them are alright but there are a few that, while not necessarily Dark, are frowned upon.”
Rose hummed, not sounding particularly concerned at that. Which was true. Rose didn’t fully understand the wizarding world's need to separate magic. Light. Dark. She could understand it in a classification sense but the fact that they went out of their way to condemn one branch of magic while lauding the other was ridiculous. Still, not wanting to deal with unnecessary whispers, Rose resisted taking out the books now.
“Thank you,” Rose said quietly, offering Marcus a small smile.
He grinned back. “No problem. Happy to help.” Sitting back in his seat, Marcus glanced over at the fire and back to Rose. “I’ll need the ones on wizarding customs back before the end of the year but you’re good to keep the ones on wizarding laws for as long as you need.”
Giving a nod, Rose eyed Marcus for a moment as he stared at the fireplace in a contemplative silence. The two of them had a rather tense beginning but she had grown quite fond of him over the years. He was always willing to engage in conversation with her despite the fact that Rose hardly spoke to him at all. He would tell her things about the wizarding world or the tips and tricks to dealing with snobby Purebloods; including the well-known but not talked about secrets about each family.
At the beginning of her second year Marcus had told her how he failed his fifth year O.W.L.s. His mother had been sick throughout the year, distracting him rather thoroughly, and then had passed the morning of the first exam. He stubbornly decided to take them anyways and tanked every single one. Instead of taking the exams again over the summer and risking a mediocre score he decided to redo his fifth year, unconcerned about what anyone else would have to say on the matter.
Rose could respect Marcus’s reasoning. Most would have taken the easy route and got things over with rather than restart and build a solid base.
The Flint’s were great parents by Pureblood standards. Both of Marcus’ parents had always encouraged his passions rather than forcing him to do what they considered to be important. Although they did expect him to carry on the family name and become the family Lord, they never arranged a marriage for him, instead encouraging him to find a wife on his own.
Apparently it wasn’t uncommon for Pureblood parents to arrange marriages before their kids reached Hogwarts, sometimes before they could walk.
Either way, when it came to those she was actually friends with, Rose considered Marcus to be at the same level as Ron and Hermione. He was fiercely loyal and while she knew it started out as a way to vaguely profit from her, it had since grown into something more genuine. He had a sly humour and a cunning mind and she was certain he would succeed in whatever he planned to do after he graduated.
Looking back down at the bag in her lap, Rose resisted the urge to go upstairs to start reading right that second and instead sat back in her seat. She wasn’t the most social of people but she couldn’t help but want Marcus to know that she didn’t just value him for the books he brought her. Rose could hear a voice in the back of her mind that sounded distinctly like Harry telling her that she should give back as much as she got when it came to her friendships. Rose had no elusive information to offer Marcus so she’d give him her company and keep his secrets.
“How are you feeling about your N.E.W.T.s?”
Marcus looked over in surprise, smiling slightly.
The two spent the next few hours sitting in front of the fireplace. Marcus going back and forth between bemoaning and bragging about his upcoming exams. Rose offered the occasional comment but for the most part listened to Marcus talk.
It wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening.
Not long after winter break Rose was heading to the Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Harry. Professor Lupin had promised to teach him how to cast the Patronus Charm— a spell to repel dementors. Rose could practically feel the nerves and tension radiating off of Harry. She knew he was putting a lot of pressure on himself to do well, for more than one reason.
For starters, the dementors had shown up at a Quidditch match before, why wouldn’t they again? And Harry didn’t want to lose another match again and cost his team a win. The second reason was because of the extreme reaction Harry had to the dementors. Rose knew Harry didn’t like being singled out and wanted to get a handle on this sooner rather than later.
Rose had a pretty bad reaction to them too, just barely managing to stay conscious when there was one nearby. She figured the only reason she did was because of the pure-minded stubbornness she had against appearing weak— plus the fact that she hadn’t gotten quite as close to one as Harry, even in the train he had made sure to step between her and the thing that came into their compartment— still it was always a close call; not that this was a comfort to Harry, really.
Rose also knew that Harry was worried about what they heard when the dementors came near.
She had long since stopped letting herself dwell too much on the absence of their parents. Mind you, she did when she was younger. Rose used to imagine what she and Harry’s life would be like if they were still with them, imagining if they’d love them unconditionally or not. She eventually stopped all together though, forcing that part of herself into a small ball and shoving it deep in her soul where she couldn’t hear it anymore.
Harry never said it out loud but Rose knew there was a part of him that wanted to hear her again. Hearing their mother’s voice and then realizing just what they heard was… jarring. It was something they never in a million years thought they would hear and yet—
Rose made herself move past it. Listening to the voices of people who were long gone wouldn’t solve anything, she rationalized. Harry though— Harry was always a boy who thought with his heart first. One of his best qualities most of the time. Now– now it was just going to cause him pain.
Rose hated that.
The two of them walked into the empty History of Magic classroom that evening after curfew. It was dark when they got there and when Harry went to light the lamps with his wand Rose stopped him. He shot her a look that she did not bother answering, instead raising her hand. Rose flicked out her wrist and the lamp lit up.
Harry laughed in part amazement and part amusement while Rose smiled brightly at him. It still blew Harry away how casually Rose could control magic and he wondered if she felt about magic the way he felt about riding a broom. Just an instinctual gut feeling that flowed through your very bones.
“You gonna do the rest?”
Playfully rolling up her sleeves, Rose proceeded to light the rest of the lamps in the room while Harry watched with a mixture of pride and fondness. They could see the room properly now that it was alit with a warm glow and with a shared glance the two leaned against Binns’ desk together to wait for Professor Lupin. They didn’t have to wait long for him to show up. After about a minute Lupin came in through the door carrying a luggage suitcase. He gestured with his head for the two of them to move, which they did so quickly, before he heaved it on top of Binns’ desk.
“What’s that?” Harry asked curiously.
“A boggart.”
Ah, that was smart, Rose thought. Since Harry’s boggart was a dementor it would be a rather safe way for him to practice the spell without any harmful or deadly side-effects.
“So…” Lupin started, taking out his wand and motioning for them to do the same. “Do you know anything about the spell we are going to be attempting?”
Harry nodded. “Ro’ told me quite a bit about it.”
Lupin hummed in understanding as he eyed the two teens. “And are you going to be attempting the spell too?” He asked Rose.
Rose shook her head firmly.
She got a nod in understanding before their professor spoke again. “Alright then, Harry. Keep in mind that the Patronus Charm is highly advanced magic— well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It won’t be a success straight away.”
“How does it work exactly?” Harry asked nervously, Rose had just given him a brief rundown on the spell. Okay, that wasn’t true, she did more than that, but Harry heard ‘repels dementors’ and then his brain went far away into how to learn it.
Lupin explained what the Patronus spell would conjure and what it was in layman’s terms. An anti-dementor spell. A guardian. A protector. “The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon— hope, happiness, the desire to survive— but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can’t hurt it.” He went on, watching to make sure Harry was following along.
Harry nodded slowly. “… what does it look like?”
“Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it.”
“And how do you conjure it?”
“With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory.”
Harry’s mind instantly went to Rose. Of course it did. His sister was the best thing in his life and she was a part of almost every single happy moment he had. He thought over his memories carefully and opted out of using one from before their Hogwarts days. He did have some happy memories with her from back then but there was a tinge of sadness and pain to those ones— life with the Dursleys. Finally, he settled on the day they boarded the Hogwarts express.
“Alright,” he said, releasing a deep breath as he tried to recall his feelings from that day. The excitement, relief and joy he felt knowing he and Rose were finally leaving the Dursleys, just like they always planned to.
Rose and Lupin watched on as Harry made his attempt at the spell, Rose smiling at his excitement when he managed to conjure a wispy looking mist. Lupin was quick to congratulate Harry at that, asking if he was ready to try with a dementor now. Nerves clear on his face, Harry soldiered on, giving a firm nod.
Harry’s attempt against the boggart-dementor did not go well, it went exactly like it went when he was faced with a real dementor actually, and Rose rushed over to Harry when he fell to the ground, flat on his back.
Lupin corralled the boggart while Rose helped Harry up, her own hands shaking as she did so.
“It’s getting worse,” Harry muttered, bringing a hand to his head.
Rose would bet. At least she was further back and not facing it head on, she couldn’t imagine how Harry was feeling now.
“I could hear her louder that time— and him— Voldemort.”
Rose wrapped her arm around his shoulder comfortingly while Lupin paled, he handed Harry a chocolate frog and told him that he’d understand if Harry didn’t want to continue. Rose knew what Harry would say before he even said it out loud.
“I do!” Chewing on the rest of the Chocolate Frog, Harry went on about the next Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, saying he needed to be ready.
Lupin nodded slowly. “All right then... You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on… That one doesn’t seem to have been strong enough… Take your time.”
Rose and Lupin moved back as Harry began as Harry frowned in concentration. Not wanting to hover over him as he debated over a memory, Lupin commented quietly to Rose as they leaned back against Binns’ desk.
“I am slightly surprised you didn’t want to learn the spell as well...” She glanced over at Lupin and gave a small shrug, looking back at Harry again. “From what I’ve viewed so far, and what the rest of the staff have told me, you are quite the avid learner.”
Rose frowned as she thought over her choice not to learn the spell with Harry. She had debated over it heavily in fact and Lupin was right about his assessment of her. Rose loved to learn, loved the feeling of accomplishment she got when she mastered a spell. However—
“I don’t know what it would be…” she said quietly, not looking at her professor.
To his credit, Lupin didn’t show any outward signs of shock at Rose choosing to speak, instead he asked. “Why would that stop you?”
Rose licked her lips and let out a deep sigh. “The spell is used to conjure up a guardian… a protector… It’s something that is pulled from the wizard themselves.” She glanced down at the ground, her hands clenching at the edge of the desk. “I have… zero experience with that. The closest thing I have to the feeling of protection is Harry. But I wouldn’t call him a protector, not really, it’s more that we look out for each and, more often than not, weather whatever storm we’re in together.”
She looked to her professor now as she tried to articulate her thoughts properly. “I’ve read up on this spell and, more than most spells, it relies on feeling. Belief. The happy memory you choose is meant to be a protector but if you don’t believe that the happy memory is enough to protect you from the bad things then it won't work, will it?”
Rose glanced over at Harry again. “I know Harry will manage the spell,” she said quietly. “Harry has the uncanny ability to believe in everyone and everything. He can believe in the goodness of people and that they’d be there if he needed them… I can’t do that. I’m the type of person who needs to see it first.
“It’s like with our parents,” she went on, not entirely sure why she was going into such depth in explaining things. “Harry believes with all his heart that they’d love us as we are— that they’d be proud of us. I don’t though— I can’t. Because I need to see it to believe it and that’s not something I’ll ever be able to do…” Rose could feel Lupin’s gaze on her but she didn’t look towards him.
“Ready.”
Lupin jumped slightly when Harry spoke before quickly making his way over to the suitcase. He grabbed its edge, gave Harry a look, then said, “go!” and pulled the lid open.
Again, Harry gave it his best and then fainted, falling limply to the floor while Rose rushed over. She discreetly wiped the tears off his face, knowing he’d be embarrassed if the professor saw, using her body to block Harry from view.
Harry sat up slowly, his hand going up to his head.
“I heard Dad,” he muttered to Rose, looking up at her wide eyed. His words had her freezing, not expecting him to say that. “He tried to take on Voldemort himself… to give Mum time to make a run for it…”
Rose didn’t know what to say to that.
“You heard James?” Lupin said strangely.
The two glanced over at the pale professor and Rose narrowed her eyes at the slightly familiar tone he had spoken their father’s name in.
“Yeah…” Harry said slowly. “Did you know our dad?”
“I—” Lupin stuttered. “I did in fact, he was in my year at Hogwarts.” Lupin shook his head before suggesting that they stop there, a slightly guilty look on his face as he eyed Harry still sitting on the floor.
Harry surged upward at that, though not at all quick and relying on Rose for the most part to help him. “No!” Harry was quick to plead his case for another try, visibly racking his brain for another happy memory.
He nodded his head urgently when he felt he had a good one and, with a look of great reluctance, Professor Lupin opened up the case again. This time when Harry cast the spell, instead of a wispy mist coming out of his wand a silver glowing shadow came bursting out of the end. He held his ground for a few minutes before he started swaying and their professor jumped in.
“Riddikulus!”
Rose helped Harry over to a chair while Lupin wrestled the boggart, now a silvery orb, into the case again.
“That was excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!”
Harry was going to ask for another go when he noticed how pale and shaky Rose was. Swallowing his words, he shot her a concerned look and Rose smiled slightly, shaking her head that she was fine.
“We’ll leave it there for now, shall we?” Lupin said, his question more of a firm order than an actual inquiry. He handed the twins a large chocolate bar each. Rose vaguely wondered just how much chocolate he had at the ready on a given day. “Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?”
“Okay,” Harry agreed instantly, Rose nodding along absently. They each took a bite of their chocolates and watched Lupin extinguish the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the dementor. A thought had just occurred to Harry.
“Professor Lupin?” he said. “If you knew my dad, you must’ve known Sirius Black as well.”
Lupin turned very quickly.
“What gives you that idea?” he said sharply. Rose’s eyebrows ticked up at the defensive reaction, her mind already pondering over its implications.
“Nothing— I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too…”
Lupin’s face relaxed.
“Yes, I knew him,” he said shortly. “Or I thought I did. You’d better be off, Harry, it’s getting late.”
Harry and Rose shared a look at the abrupt dismissal before making their way to the doors, both feeling rather tired, Harry more so than Rose for obvious reasons. They only made it a few steps into the corridor when Lupin’s voice called out to them again.
“Rose?”
Turning around they saw Lupin standing in the doorway, an oddly hesitant expression on his face. He made a gesture for her to come back, to which she did easily enough, Harry waiting in the same spot for her with a curious expression on his face.
When she was close enough to be heard without having to raise his voice, Lupin spoke. “They would have been proud of you.” He told her firmly, not leaving any room for argument. “No matter the choices you make or the person you become.”
Rose clenched her jaw, not quite believing him. She was a Slytherin after all and if she learnt anything from most of the witches and wizards in the magical world it was that they had an undeniable prejudice against her House.
Lupin smiled sadly. “I knew both your parents rather well. James— he was a man who valued family above all else and there was next to nothing someone he loved could have done to turn him away from them.” His brow furrowing slightly and he let out a deep breath, relaxing his expression back into a more reassuring one. “And your mother had a big heart. She did not believe in judging a book by their cover— or House,” he added on with a pointed look. “One of her best friends, for a great many of years, was in fact a Slytherin.”
Rose couldn’t completely hide the surprise she felt at that. She eyed her professor for a few moments and finally gave him a nod of understanding.
Smiling slightly, Lupin nodded in return. “Alright, you both should head to your dorms now.”
She stepped away from him, heading back over to Harry, her thoughts a disarray.
Rose hadn’t always been a person who needed to see it in order to believe it. In fact, she and Harry were very similar in the way of belief when they were growing up. It was just as years went by, and they were continuously let down by the adults around them, she lost that belief. Every adult who ignored the bruises on her and Harry. Every neighbour who did nothing about the screams that they no doubt heard coming from their uncle. The teachers who did nothing as they were bullied and ridiculed in school.
She thought, maybe, that when they came to the magical world things would change. She was stupendously wrong. With her it happened straight away, the second Rose was Sorted in the House of snakes she was let down. People turning their backs on her without even knowing her. She could have lived with it if Harry had been accepted but he wasn’t either. Not really.
Sure, at first they all loved him, but in the end, they loved his fame, not the kind-hearted boy he was. The second things got tough, his own House would turn on him. It happened in first year, second year, it was bound to happen again too, she had no doubt.
She thought of the professors who stood by and let this happen without lifting a finger. One professor actively participating in the abuse while no adult said a word against him. Swearing his morals up and down. She thought of her and Harry’s conversation with Professor Dumbledore at the end of their first year. How they asked him if they could stay at Hogwarts, or anywhere else really, telling him about their relatives’ cruelty. Rose’s face pulled into a sneer as she thought over his reply. How he told them that they had to go back and that it was the safest place for them.
What a joke.
Even the Weasleys, who opened their home to Harry and her, had let them down. Despite her attempts to mother them, and the fact that she could tell that the Rose and Harry were far too thin, Mrs. Weasley had turned the other cheek when her own sons told her about how the Dursley’s treated them.
They even had the bars to prove it that time.
Yeah. Rose had been let down far too much to just believe that people would protect her and Harry. By now, even if there was anyone who would see that they needed help, odds were that all it would take was just a few words from Dumbledore for them to let it go. Who would argue with Albus Dumbledore after all? Especially for two orphans with no real family to speak of.
“Ro’?”
Rose looked to Harry before scanning their surroundings, she quickly realized that they were at one of the spots they normally split off from each other at. Turning back to Harry she saw concern clear on his face. Giving him a smile, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Merlin, she loved her brother. Would do anything for him.
Harry squeezed her hand back just as tightly, his face pulling into a grin now that Rose didn’t look so troubled.
“See you tomorrow?”
Rose gave him a thumbs up, grinning when Harry laughed at the sight of it. She had no idea why it amused him so much when she did it but it always made him laugh.
The two headed off in opposite directions, both lost in thoughts about the Patronus lessons.
February quickly came around and Harry and Ron were still not talking to Hermione and she remained stubbornly righteous about her actions. Harry hadn’t made any move to buy a new broom, not wanting to have the same broom as Malfoy, and he still had yet to get back his Firebolt. (Woods' attempts to get it back also proved to be futile.) Harry was still meeting up with Professor Lupin for his Patronus lessons, Rose always tagging along, but he still had yet to make any progress which only served to sour his mood even more.
After a rather disappointing lesson Harry was trudging back to Gryffindor Tower and walked headlong into Professor McGonagall while climbing a staircase.
“Do watch where you’re going, Potter!”
“Sorry, Professor—”
“I’ve just been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room. Well, here it is, we’ve done everything we could think of, and there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it at all— you’ve got a very good friend somewhere, Potter…”
Harry’s jaw dropped. She was holding out his Firebolt and it looked as magnificent as ever.
“I can have it back?” Harry asked weakly. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Professor McGonagall replied, and she was actually smiling. “I daresay you’ll need to get the feel of it before Saturday’s match, won’t you? And Potter— do try and win, won’t you? Or we’ll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night…”
Speechless, Harry carried the Firebolt upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower. As he turned a corner, he saw Ron dashing toward him, grinning from ear to ear.
“She gave it to you? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it? Tomorrow?”
“Yeah… anything…” Harry mumbled, his heart lighter than it had been in a month. “You know what— we should make up with Hermione… She was only trying to help…”
Harry felt like they could have probably made up with Hermione a while ago, but Ron had been so upset with her that Harry felt a need to support him in that anger. Ron was the first friend Harry ever made. Still, while Harry had been angry with Hermione, he wasn’t so angry that he couldn’t see the good intentions behind her actions— as hidden as they were by Hermione’s desire to be right and unwillingness to see any other option.
“Yeah, all right,” Ron said slowly. “She’s in the common room now working— for a change.”
They turned into the corridor to Gryffindor Tower and saw Neville Longbottom pleading with Sir Cadogan, who seemed to be refusing him entrance.
“I wrote them down!” Neville was saying tearfully. “But I must’ve dropped them somewhere!”
“A likely tale!” Sir Cadogan roared. Then, spotting Harry and Ron: “Good even, my fine young yeomen! Come clap this loon in irons. He is trying to force entry to the chambers within!”
“Oh, shut up,” Ron said as he and Harry drew level with Neville.
“I’ve lost the passwords!” Neville told them miserably. “I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don’t know what I’ve done with them!”
“Oddsbodkins,” Harry said to Sir Cadogan, who looked extremely disappointed and reluctantly swung forward to let them into the common room. There was a sudden, excited murmur as every head turned and the next moment Harry was surrounded by people exclaiming over his Firebolt.
“Where’d you get it, Harry?”
“Will you let me have a go?”
“Have you ridden it yet, Harry?”
“Ravenclaw’ll have no chance, they’re all on Cleansweep Sevens!”
“Can I just hold it, Harry?”
After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolt was passed around and admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and Harry and Ron had a clear view of Hermione, the only person who hadn’t rushed over to them, bent over her work and carefully avoiding their eyes. Harry and Ron approached her table and at last, she looked up.
“I got it back,” Harry told her, grinning at her and holding up the Firebolt.
“See, Hermione? There wasn’t anything wrong with it!” Ron had to say.
“Well— there might have been!” Hermione replied. “I mean, at least you know now that it’s safe!”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Harry agreed slowly, not letting himself linger on Hermione’s lack of admittance of wrong. “I’d better put it upstairs.”
“I’ll take it!” Ron offered eagerly. “I’ve got to give Scabbers his rat tonic.” He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys’ staircase.
“Can I sit down, then?” Harry asked Hermione.
“I suppose so,” Hermione said, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.
Harry looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay— Harry was proud to say that he and Rose finished that one yesterday— on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay (‘Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity’) and at the rune translation Hermione was now pouring over.
“How are you getting through all this stuff?” Harry asked her.
“Oh, well— you know— working hard,” Hermione replied. Close-up, Harry saw that she looked almost as tired as Lupin.
“Why don’t you just drop a couple of subjects?” Harry asked, watching her lift books as she searched for her rune dictionary.
“I couldn’t do that!” Hermione said, looking scandalized.
“Why not Muggle Studies?” Harry suggested, glancing over at a book on Muggle electricity. “You already know how it works; you live in the Muggle world.”
“Oh! But that class is so interesting!” Hermione said earnestly. “The way wizards view standard Muggle things is—”
But exactly how wizards viewed those Muggle things, Harry never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys’ staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder— and Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.
“Look!” he bellowed, striding over to Hermione’s table. “Look!” he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.
“Ron, what—?”
“Scabbers! Look! Scabbers!”
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like—
“Blood!” Ron yelled into the stunned silence. “He’s gone! And you know what was on the floor?”
“N–no,” Hermione said in a trembling voice.
Ron threw something down onto Hermione’s rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.
Well, there went the chance of Ron and Hermione making up.
It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione’s friendship, the two were so mad at each other Harry didn’t see how they could fix things.
He said as much to Rose as the two sat in a small alcove somewhere in the castle.
Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks’ attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hadn’t bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys’ beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron’s head in the Magical Menagerie.
Honestly, in likelihood, Crookshanks probably did eat Scabbers, but when Harry pointed this out to Hermione she lost her temper on him too, accusing him of siding with Ron.
Ron had taken Scabbers loss very hard and Fred and George’s idea of ‘comfort’ didn’t exactly help things.
On a more positive note, Gryffindor had won their match against Ravenclaw; despite Malfoy and his cronies' attempt at sabotage. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had dressed up in dementor-like robes and attempted to scare Harry and throw him off his game. Rose had assured Harry that the three boys made this plan on their own and that the rest of the Slytherin team had no idea. Marcus had been beyond furious, apparently Malfoy decided not to tell him of his plan due to his habit of studying with Rose from time to time.
Honestly, Rose could see Marcus going through with the plan, or at least the Marcus she knew back in first year, but she could understand where Marcus’ anger came from. As far as Malfoy knew, Marcus was the Head of the Slytherin Hierarchy and he still made a decision that affected the House behind the seventh-year’s back.
Either way, Rose dealt out an appropriate punishment to her unsuspecting year mates— that was on top of the punishment they had received from Professor McGonagall herself.
The Gryffindor’s had celebrated heartedly that night, Harry even snuck Rose in for a short while. Though she didn’t want to stick around any longer than necessary, not a fan of the noise that pounded through the Gryffindor common room.
And since the rules of Hogwarts states that things can never be too positive, Sirius Black broke into the Gryffindor dorms that night—
And attacked Ron?