Harry Potter 1. Quote

**A/N: Working on this story and I already have a few chapters done. They will be around 2000 words a chapter as of now. I'm up to suggestions and I love feedback. Currently this is an ongoing story, but if I lose interest I will post a note and leave the story up for adoption, or you can just use it. No need to inform me. I love people using my ideas. A little credit would be nice, but hey, I'll live either way. Sorry if my grammar or spelling is faulty. I try to read everything over twice, but things slip by. This story starts off in the first year, but with time will go up to M, for there will be romance eventually and maybe explicit scenes.**

**Description: Fem!Harry, Har/Sev/Vol/OC+Many More Characters. T-M, torture, death, heartthrobs, tears, hetero/homo, you have all been warned! **

**What will happen when Rosalian Potter is introduced into a wizarding dictatorship? Will she be the proper Potter puppet everyone expects her to be? Will the Grey witch turn Light or fall into Darkness? Where are her parents? Will she be adopted? Will she survive her new school full of Dark witches and wizards who despise the Potter name? With all the expectations, how can she simply remain Rosy? Will it even be possible? She thinks so, even if it means forcing her friendship on a know-it-all, a bully, and a boy who seems to hate her very life. Not to mention many other strange characters the Wizarding World has.**

_Book 1, Chapter 01: Quote. _

This is more than a love story. Yes, there's love, in all sorts of skewed shapes and forms, but there's more than love, there's... _love. _The prideful, hateful, confusing love. Love for family, love for friends, adolescent love, mature love, old, sad, forgotten love.

And there's loss. Loss that leaves a family broken, forces children to grow up too fast, causes grown men to weep and loving women to hate, loss that is wrapped in injustice and jealousy.

There is much, much more to this story-that-shouldn't-have-been-written, mostly about a girl-who-shouldn't-have-lived, children-who-shouldn't-have-seen, and a man-who-shouldn't-be-named.

This story will have twists and turns, confusions and illusions, laughter and tears, and will leave any human with a heart clutching theirs.

I only ask that you, the reader, clear all your previous thoughts and expectations. You know Harry Potter, but you do not know _my _Harry Potter. I ask that you keep an open mind—for every story hides a lesson in the mind of the writer, and a truth in the soul of the reader—and remember, this story is not just a story, it is a journey into the mind and make of a _new _Harry Potter, a _different _Harry Potter, and perhaps an even more _inaccurately accurate _Harry Potter.

There will be characters that you have never heard of, and I hope that you make them feel at home, and characters that you once hated that you might now love, perhaps characters you once loved you now loathe, and perhaps even characters you've never even noticed will come to light.

I do not expect all to stick on this journey, I do not even know if _I _will stick on this journey (you have been forewarned), but I hope you will indulge yourself.

There is no gluttony greed here, for there were no limits to stop us.


	2. I'll Always Save You

_Book 1, Chapter 2: I'll Always Save You._

It was a dark winter night in Little Whinging. The clouds were stormy above, no longer creating shapes of innocent bunnies and trains, but instead formed a gloomy cast on top of all the little children in Little Whinging, leaving sniffling noses, forlorn feelings, and little childish echoes of songs about it raining, pouring, and old men snoring. The heavy rain came from all directions, the wind carrying it to smash chillingly against every inch of the town. Most—as in the boring, average, majority—would call the weather horrid.

Well, there was one little girl who was not boring, nor average, and would never, ever fit in the "majority."

If one looked at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, they would see a respectably high-end, if not a bit snottier than the others, house that looked nearly like every other house. The garden would be groomed, the grass would be cut, and inside the house you would find it well kept, a family of three, family photos and especially of a young lad who was undoubtedly the son of the house. The rooms would be kept, there would be dinner on the table every night, the father would be a worker, the wife would clean and cook, and the son would be playing or watching TV. It would be a normal house, a normal family, a normal _everything_, and the Dursleys would want it no other way.

But if one _really _looked at this particular house, if one truly searched for all of its deepest, darkest secrets, well, that one person would not be disappointed, for this house did indeed harbor many secrets and shames. It was a loving home for three members of the household. But it was a prison for another.

Rosalian Lillian Potter sat in the backyard of her aunt and uncle's house. She was adorning an old ripped t-shirt from her big cousin and an old sweatshirt of her aunt's that was miles too big for her little five-year-old frame. Rosy sat underneath the clear umbrella given to her right after she was thrown in the rain by her aunt. She had done something freaky again, even though by accident, and was being punished for it. They wouldn't allow freakishness inside their house, she was told since she could remember, and if she were going to do freakishness, then she wouldn't have a house to do it in.

But that was all in the past to Rosy. If there was one thing she could never accomplish in her naïve, childish days, it was holding a grudge. So she sat outside hidden underneath her umbrella as she looked up to the sky, watching the rain fall down. It was all she could see. The grassy backyard was becoming a muddy puddle, though thank goodness there was cement, too, and the garden was so drowned she was thankful she couldn't speak to flowers, because she was sure they'd be screaming and gurgling.

But the rain was like a ten-foot-tall fence, keeping her from seeing anything around her. She watched the sky, though she could see about as much as that as anything else, but it was a good enough distraction for the girl who was freezing.

She cracked a smile and let her little innocent mind run wild. She thought about how the rain could come from the sky, and wondered if it wasn't a god that was crying. Aunt Petunia said there was a god, so maybe there was a god up there who was sad? _Yes_, she decided, _that must be right._ _Gods must get sad too._ She thought about what could make a god cry, and wondered if maybe that god was thrown outside too? Maybe the god wasn't wanted either? Maybe his parents died, like hers? Maybe he was lonely because he didn't have friends and had to do chores and get pushed around by his cousin gods and had to sleep in a little cupboard too? Maybe he wasn't a god? Maybe he was a freak, like she was? Little Rosy smiled a sad little smile at this thought.

"Maybe," Little Rosy mumbled to herself, "just maybe, we can be freaks together?"

Rosy smiled up at the sky, silent tears falling down with the rain, as she imagined her little god friend smiling down at her. She sat there for what could have been minutes of maybe hours, thinking of all the different things she would do if she had a friend. She would go to the park with him (she went sometimes with Dudley, but he was always busy with _his _friends), or they would color together (she wasn't allowed to color at her house, though Dudley would let her in his room sometimes and they would, if she cleaned up), and they would be the happiest of friends and maybe, just maybe, when they got big enough they'd be able to leave.

She was too young to understand fully the idea of running away. She knew Dudley threatened when he got mad, but when he explained it as leaving the house until his mummy and daddy came for him and apologized and gave him what he wanted, she didn't think it would work for her. She didn't want anything to begin with, nor did she have a mummy and daddy to chase after her.

But maybe, oh how she hoped, that her and her god friend would find a way to run away, because maybe he had a mummy and daddy that did, in fact, love him, and when they came to get him they would take her too. But thoughts of leaving with her freak friend, even without someone to chase them, settled happily in her mind. They would run on and on, nowhere to go, and she'd be happy if she were with her friend.

_Yes, _she thought as she began to drift off to her dream land, nestling herself on the wet concrete, _we'll be freaks together. _

Resting Rosy didn't notice anything in her slumber, far too caught in her woven dreams of happiness and friends and family, all that she never knew. No, she hadn't even noticed the rain stopping around her, or the clouds parting to display a shimmering full moon, and she only vaguely registered soft feelings of hopes and promises, _happiness_, it felt, brushing up against her, petting her head and cradling her body as if she were its child.

Rosy fell asleep cozy and content, wrapped in a Mother's familial feel, though why, she would never know, accepting all the hope and believing in all the promises as sweet words were whispered in her ear, feeling her head and dreams.

"I'll always save you," it whispered gently. For many years after, Rosy would always think it was some crazed up thoughts, something she made up in her head in desperation. It would take even many more years for her to realize what it was and what that promise really meant.

But the words would always float in the back of her head, rescuing her from her own insanity and hatred.

_I'll always save you._


	3. Breathe In, Out

**A/N: MRIC is pronounced Em-Rick. The idea of muggleborn adoption is from the story "Prince of the Dark Kingdom" which is another harry/voldemort/severus story that is very wonderful and I recommend everyone to read it. **

_Book 1, Chapter 3: Breathe In, Out._

"Rosalian!" Aunt Petunia yelled from upstairs. "Start breakfast, why don't you!" Rosy Potter grumbled and grunted from her little cupboard underneath the stairs. It was the 23rd of June, she realized, and her lump of a cousin's birthday. _Great, _she thought, _now I get to listen to that tosser all day. _She pulled her blankets off and slipped into sweats and a t-shirt as she crawled her way out of her cupboard. She pulled her hair into a bun—it was the only way Petunia would allowed her to have her velvety red hair long—and tried to discreetly walk into the kitchen without either her cousin or her uncle's notice. The attempt was at a loss.

"Guess what day it is!" Dudley shouted at his cousin. Rosy paused as Dudley rounded on her. She didn't think he would throw a punch, not in front of his parents, but with it being his birthday, she never knew. Yes, they had many fights and quite often, but never in front of Vernon and Petunia, and very rarely did said people ever find out. As cruel as her aunt and uncle were, they didn't allow Dudley to beat her up (other than a push or slap here and there). She would think kindly of it, but she knew it was only because they didn't want Social Services at their door. But she took it as it was, and was grateful that he didn't go squealing to his parents for every kick to the groin. Less trouble for her, too.

"Your birthday," she said as she walked past him to get out the bacon and eggs and pancake mix.

"Right! Guess where I'm going? Go on, guess!" Rosy sighed to herself.

"I don't know, where?"

"The zoo!"

"Oh?" She was surprised to hear this, but then looking between the multiples of presents, and wasn't truly shocked. What Dudley wanted, Dudley got. "Hope you have fun." Dudley nodded to himself, but upon closer inspection of his cousin, who was finally recovering from a horrid cold, thought to himself. She had been stuck in the house for nearly the past month, which was horrid considering it was summer, and supposed that just this once he could bring her on his birthday.

"You're coming too," he said. Vernon sputtered at this and Petunia, who at some point came into the kitchen, gave her son a curious look.

"Why would you want _her _to come along, Duddykins?" Petunia asked in her squeaky voice as Vernon was now the one giving his son the weird look. Dudley shrugged and then sat in his chair at the table, waiting for the food Rosy had started.

"I don't wanna carry my own stuff, _obviously, _it's my birthday!" Dudley then ranted about how his parents didn't love him if they were going to make him carry his own things on his very own birthday and Vernon and Petunia were happy to let Rosy come along, so long as she behaved, if it meant their son would be happy. At the end of the sort-of-argument, Dudley gave a look towards his cousin.

She read his eyes perfectly. _You're welcome,_ they were saying. There was not the better-than-you look in them he once gave to her, just expectations of getting paid back. She bit back a smile and even ignored the jealousy and resentment she felt towards him. Yes, he would expect something, like his homework getting done or food catering for a few days, but it was moments like these Rosy could almost get along with her cousin. She nodded back, _thank you._

They never shared any sort of relationship. They weren't siblings, though sometimes Rosy couldn't help but feel like a little sister when Dudley wouldn't allow other boys within a ten feet radius of her, and they weren't friends, despite how much time they truly spent around each other, but there was a connection, almost a sort of understanding, between the two. Dudley understood that Rosy deserved more than she got. He didn't at first, but as he became older he began to realize it wasn't normal to keep an orphaned girl in the cupboard, that they should have welcomed her in the family, but he also understood that Rosy was, indeed, _different_. If he really thought it, he would almost say he felt bad for her. But he also knew that one thing Rosy didn't need was pity. She was a strong girl, emotionally and physically, and she didn't need people to look down on her. She wasn't looking for attention, she wasn't even looking to be a freak, she was simply Rosy. And that's all she wanted. With this Dudley tried harder to be kinder to her more often, but habits were hard to break growing up with them.

In return for Dudley's small understandings, Rosy tried hard not to dislike him too much. Yes, they fought badly, but he was the one to take her water in the heat when Rosy was working in the garden, or cold medicine when she got sick, and he sneaked her food and materialistic things. It was a confusing thing between the two of them, but neither of them questioned it. They hated each other at times, and sought each other out in others.

The breakfast had gone quietly, just as it usually did, with the exception of Dudley and his excitement. When they had all finished and Rosy had cleaned up, she was told to put on her nice dress clothing and to meet them outside.

"Now, listen here, girl," her Uncle Vernon glared at her outside. "NO. FREAKISHNESS." Rosy puffed out her chest and settled a glare on her uncle, but gave a reluctant "fine," and quickly got in the car. They drove away to the zoo, where they would spend half the day.

The days for Severus Snape were busier than ever. Ever since The Dark Lord won the Wizarding War towards the end of 1982, the recovery of Wizarding Britain had become a hectic one. Severus Snape had been made Headmaster at the most reputable magical school in all of Wizarding Britain, and with time and the help from The Dark Lord, it was slowly becoming the most reputable school in the entire wizarding world. With that, Snape was also having to deal with foreign exchange students, as many pure-blood families did not want to pass up the chance of sending their children to the very school The Dark Lord came from and adored. The Ministry of Magic was also being reestablished. Lucius Malfoy had become Minister—to no one's surprise—and many faces had been swapped out. Yes, the ministry was always corrupt, and many did work for The Dark Lord during the war, but He was not foolish enough to think that they were loyal to Him. They were only loyal to the winning side. So he had swapped out—or killed—those he felt incompetent to play their part in the Ministry.

Along with that they were also setting up new laws and regulations, many of which had to do with Muggleborns. They were not The Dark Lord's most favorite magical group, but he was no fool and even he knew he would never be able to exterminate them. If Mother Magic wanted them gone, then she wouldn't have blessed them with her magic to begin with.

But that did not mean he was going to allow muggle-loving witches and wizards in his country.

By 1985 he had already fixed the issue on what to do with them. He had established the Muggleborn Rescue and Integration Center. Wizarding Britain cut themselves off from the muggle world and with this muggleborns, too, were cut off from the muggle world from which they came. At the first sign of accidental magic, MRIC associates find the child and then fake that child's death. It was a cruel process that many wizarding families, mostly half-bloods, were against. But the law eventually passed when it was announced that families would be allowed to adopt these children and welcome them into the world of magic.

MRIC built an orphanage where the children went to live, learn, and develop their magical skill and learn more about magic. In time pure-blood and half-blood families would adopt these children, and as the years went by this became a more accepted policy.

So, Snape was busy. Busy with paperwork, potions, and making sure his Lord was content. He was busy taking orders and giving them out. But at this particular time, he was busy double-checking who would and who wouldn't be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which was why he was none happier when he saw a name that he knew would only complicate and further busy his life.

As if slyly slipped between two other names, there lay written in ink a name he knew too well, yet didn't know at all. Rosalian Potter.

Snape breathed. Then breathed again. In times of stress and worry, that was the key, to breathe. Oxygen was good. The fact that Rosalian Potter, who fell off the face of the Earth in 1981, was on his acceptance list to Hogwarts was very bad. But oxygen was good, so he forced himself to stay seated and to breathe. In, out, in, out.

_Okay, _he thought, _why would this be so? Think, think._ The list of accepted, like everything else in his world, was very magical. Hogwarts already accepted all British half-bloods and pure-bloods, as was law, so that would make sense, _if _the Potter girl was alive and still in Britain. But why had MRIC never noticed her? Surely she, too, would be doing accidental magic. _For she's not a muggleborn_, he thought. MRIC only had the ability to locate muggleborns in Britain, not half-bloods or pure-bloods. Again, damn the old magic, powerful yet confusing.

So she was a half-blood in Britain. Not the first. In fact, she wasn't even the first name on here that shouldn't have been. Neville Longbottom was seen on the list, as he was pure-blood, yet after the capture of his parents, the grandmother and grandson went into hiding. The list would never allow The Dark Lord or his followers to find them, but simply verified the fact that Neville had been alive. There were other Light families on the list, too, that shouldn't have been. He would have to inform his master of

this later.

But that meant telling him about Rosalian Potter.

He signed, he knew he had no other option. It was not worth a secret or a punishment. Even if she were alive, they wouldn't be able to find her. Like he said, MRIC could only locate muggleborns that committed accidental magic.

But would his Lord even care? She was just a girl, obviously. The family was a mysterious one, and he was sure they simply went into hiding, but the thought of Lily being out there pulled at something in him. Could he save her? Would she let him? Was she alive? He had no doubt. She was Lily Evans, after all. She could survive a nuclear war even if she was standing in the middle of a danger zone.

But would this be enough to make his master want to seek them out? The Dark Lord knew his feelings towards the woman, and at the time that was the only thing keeping Him from actively seeking out and murdering the entire Potter Family. But would he care now? Would he bother sparing the little girl, the only one with proof she were still alive? Would he kill James Potter? It was a thought Snape played with. Would he even feel bad if He did? Yes, he would, he decided this long ago. Not in a way that left him feeling bad for Lord Potter, but Snape would never bring himself to kill someone Lily loved, or to take away someone's father (not again, he wouldn't do it again, the war was over and The Dark Lord swore to not make Snape partake in any more raids or battles, for he had done his time and sacrifices), as that would certainly never win a friendship back with Lily. Not that he would ever be allowed that anyway.

Severus Snape thought long and hard, until eventually he decided to stop trying to guess what his master would do. He was The Dark Lord. As much as Snape thought he knew him, he hardly did. He would never be able to fully guess his actions, and thank Merlin for that, for if he could he was sure he would be killed for it.

He decided his only option was to just tell his master. He hoped for the best (He wouldn't go out and seek them, would leave the girl alone, would never, ever utter the Potter name again, and they would go on as if nothing) but expected the worse (He would go in search for the girl himself, perhaps even bring Snape along, and force him to watch as he tortured the girl and Lily, telling Snape over and over that he was loyal to Him, and only Him).

Snape took one more big breath before fire-calling his master to request time with him.

_Breathe. In, out, in, out._


	4. For The Days I Can't Be There

_Book 1, Chapter 4: For The Days I Can't Be There._

To the long-since dead, he was Tom Marvolo Riddle. To the living, he was The Dark Lord. To the enemy, he was Voldemort. He was many things. He was a fighter—he had fought many wizards and witches in his life, had been in many battles, and even started and won a war. He was a dictator—many feared and loved him, much like a god, and followed behind in his footprints, accepting their fate and now only hoping for a little positivity and break from the pain and sadness that the war had created. He was a father to every wizarding child in Britain, he was a brother to the wizards and witches that lay down their lives for him on a daily basis, and he was even a lover to different men and women throughout the world. But he was not a friend.

This was the reason Severus Snape sat quietly in The Dark Lord's office at the Ministry—he had no specific job title in the Ministry itself, but being Wizarding Britain's dictator, he could work or stay wherever he pleased, and could undermine any Ministry decision discreetly—as his Lord finished the paperwork he was nearly done with. Snape tried very hard to not look in the direction of his master. He was tall, about six-foot, but Snape was taller by about an inch. He was also very skinny, one would even think too skinny, but Snape knew better. While some Wizards relied to heavily on magic, they begin to let themselves go. Magic could do many things, but it could not permanently change one's body and health. Underneath the richly looking robes his Lord had on, Snape knew was lean muscle.

That was one muggle-habit his Lord forced upon his Death Eaters during the War. He demanded they stay fit. It was a good decision too, for magical battles demanded more physical exercise than most wizards would think. Snape, too, was well built; however, he was not lean like his master. Snape's shoulders and chest were more broad, his body more even with itself. The Dark Lord displayed skinnier legs and a long torso.

"I almost fear something's gone wrong, with the way you're avoiding me, Severus," The Dark Lord smirked. He finished his paper and placed down his quill. "So," he said as he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands, "tell me, what's wrong? Has something happened at Hogwarts?"

Snape forced himself to keep the emotions off of his face. The worry, the trepidation, even the tiredness, all stayed hidden behind his steely facade. "Perhaps not as horrid as you may be imagining, my Lord, I just felt it was important to inform you of the acceptance list."

"Has there been more Light children accepted?" He asked. This had happened before, and he knew Severus knew to just cross the names off after he informed Him of which children they were. But something in his subordinate's eyes—which looked far more tired than normal, even with Snape hiding his emotion well—told him that there was more to it than just some forgotten Light children. "I'm a busy man, Severus, so do tell already."

"I have written down the list of names that will need to be crossed off this year." He then handed his master the list and looked out the window as his Lord unfolded the paper and began reading through the names.

He glanced over the list without much worry. The families had disappeared long ago, either on the run or dead, and the fact that the children survived did not truly bother him. He was okay with letting the children go on with their miserable lives, so long as none got in his way. He was about to ask Snape why he looked so worried, these were mostly below average names anyway, but then he caught it.

Written between two names, hiding as if knowing it wasn't suppose to be there, was one name he did have mixed feelings towards. Rosalian Potter.

_Ah, _He thought, _so this is why. The Potter has come. _He shook his head. It had been nearly ten years and still Snape, one of the greatest and most loyal Death Eater he had ever known, still felt some loyalty to that damn woman. He wondered if perhaps his servant would feel some guilt and develop some knightly/fatherly instincts over the youngest Potter addition, or if his feelings were only for the woman he once loved. The Dark Lord wondered if Snape still felt that love.

He had hoped he didn't, for he didn't want to deal with another crushed and cruel Severus Snape like he did for nearly a year after the Potters vanished. He needed his best servant to stay level-headed and focused on his position as Headmaster.

But truly, what did his servant expect? "What would you wish for me to do, Severus?" He asked quietly. Snape hardly made a request. The only request The Dark Lord could ever remember him making was when he begged for the Potter woman to be spared, and it was perhaps one of the first requests He had ever fulfilled.

Snape remained quiet, thinking. There was nothing he could ask here. His Lord would never allow him to see Lily again, nor accept Rosalian Potter into Hogwarts as she was still technically labeled as a Light witch. "I suppose there is nothing to be done." He thought he hid the pain in his voice well, even he couldn't hear it, but his master heard many things normal humans could not, and he knew exactly what his servant was feeling. Pain. Not physical pain, for that was something Snape had a way of dealing with, but the emotional pain. The kind Snape never understood and instead tried to stuff behind his wall of steel, never allowing it to come to the surface.

The Dark Lord thought hard. He didn't care so much if his subordinate was in pain. It was not his place to care. He was the master, and Snape was the servant. But the dictator side in Him was becoming to come out, and he began plotting many different ways Potter could come of use to Him that may, just maybe, allow Snape to see the brat. If it was convenient enough.

If the parents were still alive, then all of his plans would fail. No doubt they would have brainwashed her into believing completely in the Light, or perhaps they wouldn't have mentioned the wizarding world at all. Either way, he couldn't just kill the parents and then take the child—well, he could, but that wouldn't make the child faithful to the Dark.

And that was what he needed. He needed a Light family, someone who was in hiding, to change their ways. He couldn't have a successful reign over wizarding Britain with families in hiding, perhaps plotting their revenge. They couldn't do anything major, but even minor annoyances were no good at the time.

So he needed a figurehead. A Light-turned-Dark family that screams, "hey! I was Light, but now I'm accepting the new ways and I haven't been killed for it!" And then perhaps other families would slowly fall in line, too. If they saw they weren't going to be murdered the second they stepped out of hiding, perhaps they would give the new dictatorship a chance.

Who could do this any better than one of the most Light families of the century?

He could never convince the parents, he knew this. But if they were out of the picture, if the child was left alone without knowing too much, perhaps He could take her, and mold her into that perfect figurehead? He could allow her acceptance into Hogwarts if it meant earning another Dark family.

"Where would she be?" Snape's eyes grew worried.

"My Lord? She's a child—"

"Be quiet, Severus, I have no intentions of killing her." The Dark Lord then explained his theory of using a Light-family-turned-Dark and how it could make Him look better and perhaps bring more families back into Wizarding Britain. "We need normality, Severus. We need people to look at our country and not think of it cruelly, and how can we do that with people hiding in the dark, fearing their lives? How do you expect me to take over more countries if they think they will have no where to go if they lose? They will fight to the bloody end, and I do not want that. If they think they can be welcomed into this government if they give up their values and beliefs, then perhaps that will cushion the blow when they surrender."

Snape nodded at this. "I can see what you mean, my Lord. The idea is brilliant." The Dark Lord hummed and gave a once over on Snape.

"Someone will need to see if she is orphaned. If she is, then I will also need them to fetch her and send her to MRIC." Snape stared at him expectantly. "This will not be you." Snape blinked. Then blinked again.

"Of course, my Lord," he slowly said, confusion quietly lacing his voice.

"I am no fool, Severus. I know your feelings towards that woman, and while I may not know your feelings towards this child, I will not be playing against her for your loyalty. You will not develop some undying affection for her, you will not play father, you will not be some secret knight in black armor. You are loyal to me. You are my servant. You are her Headmaster, and you will be nothing else towards her unless I say so, do you understand?"

Snape's face become stone at the accusations his master told him. He had never said he was going to become some father figure. He had never even mentioned the idea! He was fine with leaving the girl in whatever dump she was in. He responded nonetheless. "Yes, my Lord."

"Girl, girl!" Uncle Vernon shouted. The cupboard door was thrown open and the young Rosy was pulled out of it. "Your aunt and cousin and I are going to the Richmond's house today, so you'll stay inside this house and behave yourself, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Uncle," she responded, shaking off his strong grip on her arm. He didn't bother with threats, he was running far too late for that.

"Petunia, are you ready yet?!"

Rosy waited in the living room, sitting next to her cousin who was watching some cartoon. Uncle Vernon shouted at his son and wife to meet them outside in two minutes or he was leaving without them. Dudley flipped off the telly and turned to his cousin. He shoved a paper bag in his cousin's hand and quickly spat out a "happy birthday" and left the room to head outside. Rosy sat still on the couch even as she heard her aunt leave and slam the door shut, even when she heard the car pull away, and continued to sit on the couch with wide eyes, staring at the little bag her cousin gave her. Then she smiled.

It was her birthday. She had forgotten. Every year on July 31st her uncle and aunt would ignore her, she would never, ever receive presents like her cousin did, or ever go to places like the zoo, but every year her cousin would sneak her a gift and tell her happy birthday, the only person to, every since she was seven.

She opened the bag that was sealed with tape and looked in. There was something at the bottom wrapped in tissue paper, but she grabbed the little square paper that was staring up at her first. Dudley had never left a note or a card before.

_For the days when I can't be there. _

_-Dudley_

_PS. It's not a toy, so be careful._

_PPS. Happy Birthday, cousin._

Wondering what he could be talking about, she grabbed what was in the bag. It was heavier than she thought, and when she unwrapped it she gasped.

It was a pocket knife. Not some plastic-shelled one she'd seen the neighbor boys with occasionally. This one looked _fancy_. It had a marble design of black and red. She flipped the switch and the blade, which was about 4" long, swung out and she was mesmerized by it. The black blade was engraved in the same dark red, so dark that she had to squint to read, and read "sanguis est vinum meum." She wondered what that could possibly mean but could only recognize it as Latin.

Rosy sat on her couch, a mix between sorrow and happiness. She was so, so happy that her cousin had given her a gift (an expensive one, and perhaps one an eleven year old shouldn't be able to get) but something in her felt off. She re-read the paper. _For the days when I can't be there. _When she was younger, she could do nothing but hope for those days. She wanted to get away from it all. She would dream of running away with her god friend, going far away, maybe from Europe all together, and never coming back. But the thought of leaving now frightened her. Yes, there was a part of her that still wanted to. But not in the same way. She no longer wanted to _escape_, she simply wanted to leave. She wanted to leave and look at all the new places the world offered and still write to her cousin. She would miss him.

Was there going to be a day when he could no longer be there? She grasped the knife firmly, putting the blade and away and held the handle to her heart. She was sure she would have stayed there and simply cried, but time didn't allow her.

She jumped as soon as she heard it, the sound of her front door crashing into the hallway. There was a crackled laugh from a woman and Rosy's gut dropped, every hair on end. She tried to move, to run, but she was so frightened. All she could do was stand in fear, grasping her new pocket knife against her chest, staring wide eyed towards the hallway. Soon, whatever caused that noise would walk in and see her, and no doubt kill her. They were robbers, weren't they? She was a goner, she thought.

She was also right. As soon as she thought it, in came strutting a woman with wild black hair, a cloak, and a stick in her hand. Behind the woman were two men walking calmly, surveying the house around them.

"Why, you must be little icky Potter-poo, huh?" She smiled an evil smile, Rosy was almost expecting sharp teeth, and the woman gave a little cackle again.

"Come to Aunty Bella." She held out her hand expectantly.

Rosy's body froze, but her mind was working on overdrive. About a hundred different scenarios played in her head, but only one clear sentence made it in her head before she ran hard, clutching onto her knife. The sentence played over in her head, burning in the back of her mind, becoming more understanding by the moment.

_For the days I can't be there._

**A/N: I'm really trying to develop Dudley as a character. You will see more of him and their relationship next chapter. Hope everyone has enjoyed. Reviews are welcomed!**


	5. All, All Dead

**A/N: Don't think I abandoned you. I was busy taking my summer break. I'll try to update more. Anyway, really love this chapter, hope you will too! **

_Book 1, Chapter 5: All, all dead. _

Rodulphus and Rabastan Lestrange thought that this was going to be one of the easiest tasks they've ever been given. In fact, they were almost offended when their Lord gave it to them. They weren't babysitters! To go and fetch a little child, and to send three adults to do it, was a complete waste of time. They could have been doing bigger, better things.

Rabastan himself thought that the hardest part of the task was going to be keeping Bellatrix Lestrange from wandering off and murdering a handful of muggles. Why the Dark Lord would bring her along, he had no idea. She was one of the last people he would bring with him on a mission that didn't involve killing.

The fact that they had Rodulphus did make things easier. Bella never listened to him, but she did, to an extent, listen to her husband.

But this was suppose to be easy. It was a little girl. She would probably even want to go. Who wouldn't want to go where there was magic? But when both Rodulphus and Rabastan looked into the eyes of the little girl, they expected to see fear or confusion. They were far from wrong. Her eyes were the brightest green they had ever seen, and harbored many different emotions. Confusion, yes, along with anger and determination. Fear, however, was not one of them. The moment she ran Bellatrix raised her wand.

"No, Bella, we may not harm her! It was His order!" Rodulphus scolded his wife. She scowled and instead chased after the girl.

The girl was making a run for the back door, but Bella whipped it closed and locked it with her wand.

_Bloody hell how did they do that?! _Rosy thought. She spun on her heel and ran for the kitchen, but was blocked.

"Come, child." Rodulphus spoke. His voice was calm, but rough with age. Rosy looked him over, and saw no noticeable features. He was average. His hair was a dark brown, his skin a light tan, and his eyes a dark blue. She looked to the man next to him and was shocked to see practically a double. Then she looked at the woman. Now _she _was freaky looking. She was a bright white, like she hadn't seen the sun in days, her black hair curly, and her dark eyes crazed. Rosy gulped. She was _not _going with them.

"Go away! My Uncle is coming home soon!"

"Oh, so they're gone? That makes this much easier for us, girly! Come with us or be prepared for a very cruel game that you won't win." She flashed another evil smile.

"_No_! What do you want with me?! Take what you want and _leave_, I won't tell anyone! Just _go_!" The woman laughed and one of the men gave a sad looked while the other gave a tired one.

"Bella, there's no reason we can't explain things to her, she must beyond frightened." The man on the left said.

Rosy glared at him. She puffed out her chest, like she had done to her Uncle whenever he tried to scare her or talk down to her, and said, "I'm not _frightened_, I just want you to go away!"

"Ha ha, look at that! She thinks she's bad!" Bella laughed, though she couldn't help but think that with a little time, age, and experience, the girl's glare would be successful. Her ferocious eyes showed brightly all her anger. Yes, with a little walk through the world of Darkness, the girl could make a name for herself.

"Do you know what magic is?" The man on the right asked. They all watched in curiosity as the girl jolted still, eyes wide in not fear, but wonder.

"Magic? What about magic?" She narrowed her eyes distrustfully towards the three. "Magic doesn't exist."

"So you've never had weird things happen to you? Never done things you could never explain?" The right man asked.

"I—" Rosy paused, not knowing what to say. She had weird things happen, yes, like making things disappear or unlock, but it wasn't magic. It couldn't be. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always said magic never existed. That what she was doing wasn't magic, it was freakishness. "I don't do magic. You don't do magic. What you do, it's—it's—it's freakishness, is all!"

Now all three, even the crazy lady, mustered a sad look. "Is that what they tell you?" Bella whispered. Anger grew in her eyes. "That's what they tell you?!"

"Now, Bella, calm down—" left man tried.

"No! This is why the muggles shouldn't live! They made a witch think she's some _freak_!" The man on the left and the crazy woman then spent the next few minutes arguing about how the woman wasn't allowed to go out and kill muggles and the woman saying they all deserved it, all while the man on the right's eyes didn't leave the girl.

Rosy ignored the two arguing and focused on the man staring at her. She leveled a stare right back at him. "You're like us." He whispered to her, the arguing couple becoming quiet as the scene unfolded in front of them. "You're a witch, Miss Potter."

Rosy shook her head, looked away, looked back, then looked away again when she couldn't stand looking at the man's honest eyes. She didn't know what to think. She knew she was different. She never wanted to be a freak. But did she want to be a witch? She wasn't sure. Mostly, she just wanted to be Rosy. She wanted to roam the world. She wanted a home. Friends. A Family. Could she find it this way?

She didn't want to go with strangers. She knew it was wrong. The lady was crazy and the men were creepy with their quiet, watchful eyes. She didn't want to. But there was a pull as she looked at them. They were weird, different, dressed in dresses and boots and holding sticks.

Yet she wasn't scared.

"I'm a witch?" She asked, shocked. The man nodded.

"Come with us, and we can take you where you belong."

Rosy bit her lip, thinking hard. _People that are like me, _she thought, _if they're telling the truth._ She thought about her life up until that point.

Her parents had died from a drunken, fiery crash, their bodies never found, all before she was even two. Then she spent her childhood cleaning and cooking and sleeping in a cupboard. She did horrible in school. She did freakishness constantly. Her aunt and uncle didn't want her. She had no friends. She had a house, but no home.

"I won't die if I come with you?" She questioned.

"I promise, you won't die from us," Bella said. _But the rest of the wizarding world is free game, girly. _

"Where would you take me? What about here?"

This time the man on the right spoke, and Rosy was beginning to think that he was the more talkative of the two. "To Wizarding Britain. MRIC, to be specific."

"What's an emarick?"

"Not emarick. MRIC. It's an acronym. It's the Muggleborn Rescue and Integration Center. It's where magical children born into muggle—non-magical—households go."

"But my aunt and uncle aren't here. We should wait, I can't go anywhere without them knowing. Especially with strangers." Rosy looked the three over. No, she definitely wasn't going with these strangers without her guardians knowing.

"Speaking of the muggles," the woman said, "we should wrap this up before they get here, boys. Unless I get to do some killing, that is." The left man sighed.

"Very well, Bella," Rodulphus said.

"Wait! What about here?!" The woman gave a cackle, the left man a pitying look, and the right man took it upon himself to speak.

"I apologize, child. But for you, there is no more here." Rosy's eyes widened as her heart began to pick up.

"I'm not going with you!" She shouted as she made a break to run past the three. The woman grabbed her by her hair and pulled her into the group. Rosy flicked open her pocket knife, which she still held firmly in her hand, closed her eyes tightly, and made a unformed swing, hoping to cut something. She wasn't disappointed if the scream the woman made was anything to go by.

"You little brat!" Bellatrix screamed as she looked down at her arm which had a quickly bleeding cut. Then she smiled to herself. "You're feisty. I _like_ you." Then, with more cruelty then necessary, Bellatrix re-fastened her hold on Rosy's hair, pulling it back cruelly, and apparated away with a pop.

"We shouldn't leave her with the child for too long." Rodulphus said to his brother. Rabastan shrugged.

"It was our Lord's order not to harm her." Rodulphus gave a skeptical look towards his brother.

"Well, let's hurry up here."

* * *

Dursley was bored. He was so bored, he was almost jealous of his cousin, who was allowed (or told, depending on which way he looked at it) to stay at the house. He wish he was allowed to do that. Then he could have been watching the telly instead of being forced to entertain some ten year old girl. Even if she was the daughter of some big-shot family that was going to give his family a lot of money. Dudley never understood why his dad always brought him and his mum to his ridiculous business meetings.

"Well, Duddy," Dudley winced at the name. He definitely did not like it coming from some whiny girl. "What should we do now? I want to do something fun. Let's go somewhere. Or something." The girl, Madison or whatever, was playing with her curly brown hair. Dudley sighed. He wanted to go home.

"Let's take a walk in the garden?" It would make him look good, going on a walk with the girl. Gentlemanly, or something. But he didn't really care. He just wanted fresh air.

He wondered what his cousin was doing at the moment. Was she watching the telly? No, probably reading. Or sleeping. Maybe she sneaked in his room to play with his toys? He would yell at her, but they both knew he wouldn't care. He cared a lot less lately. He use to get angry at the girl a lot. He use to think she was a freak (well, he still did, sort of, just not in a negative way). He use to get angry when she did freakishness. But now he felt something that scared him.

He felt jealousy.

It was the day of his eleventh birthday when he realized it. They were at the zoo and Dudley and his parents were doing a great job at ignoring the girl. But soon Dudley grew bored and went to seek out his cousin. He quickly found her by the snake pen.

He was about to say something, though what he could never remember, perhaps he was going to bully her? He had forgotten long ago. But before he could get the words out, he heard her. Weird hissing sounds came from her mouth as she looked at the snake, who, in turn, was hissing back. Dudley knew what he was suppose to do. He was suppose to stop her, take her to his dad, and tattle on her. She was doing something freaky, and that wasn't allowed. But he couldn't. He found himself not scared, simply fascinated. Who had ever seen someone talk to a snake before?

"What are you doing?" He asked. Rosy gave a start, not knowing he was there. She looked at him curiously.

"I'm talking to a snake." Dudley almost laughed at how simple the answer was.

"What's it saying?" He asked.

"It's not an 'it,' it's a he. And can't you tell? How often do you see a talking snake? It's weird."

"_You're _weird," he said. "You're not even speaking English."

"Oh? I didn't know. I thought I was," she said. Then she looked worriedly towards her cousin. "Please don't tell Uncle."

"Tell me what you guys are talking about and I won't." Rosy then went on to translate the conversation, translating a few things her cousin wanted to say to the snake, and Dudley stood there the whole time, feeling for the first time something he was not use to. He wanted to be her. He wanted to be able to talk to snakes. To make things float or disappear. He felt jealous.

That was the day Dudley realized that, just because his parents believed something, didn't mean he had to. That was the day Dudley realized that being a freak maybe wasn't a bad thing.

Now he walked outside, the warm sun feeling good on him, the annoying girl chatting nonstop next to him, and still all he could think about was his cousin.

He wondered if she liked his present. It was easy enough to get, all he had to do was convince his friend's older brother, but he saved up about a month's allowance to buy it for her. He wasn't sure what made him do it. Normally he just got her something small. But he was happy he bought it for her. Life wasn't on her side, and she needed as much help getting through it as possible.

Maybe it would keep her safe.

"Dudley! Dudley!" Petunia yelled from the back patio. "Dudley, come here! We need to go home _now_!" Dudley turned around to see his mum, more panicked than he ever had. He ran over to her.

"Mummy, what's wrong?"

"There's a fire at our house, we need to go!" She grabbed and dragged him over to the car, Vernon already in the driver's seat.

They drove away quickly, and the entire twenty minute ride home left Dudley worried with his thoughts. Was Rosy okay? Did she get out? Was she the one who caused it? He hoped not, his parents would definitely kill her if she was. What he saw did not help him.

The fire was gone, but so was their house.

He looked around, searching for his cousin, but couldn't find her. Then he looked at the pile of ash that was still smoking, and he became cold. His cousin, was she in there? No, no, she's special. She'd do some of that freaky stuff and save herself, wouldn't she?

His parents were incoherent, screaming different things. "Our house!" "My things!" "My money!" It didn't go past his notice that not once did they scream "Our niece!"

One of the firemen were next to them, trying to coax his parents to calm down. Dudley grabbed the man's sleeve and gave a yank. "Yes lad? I'm sorry, nothing could be saved."

"My cousin..." Dudley whispered. He couldn't get the sentence out, for it was stuck on his tongue.

"I'm sorry, what?" Then the dam broke. Tears sprang to life in Dudley's eyes and his breath became labored.

"MY COUSIN WAS IN THERE! WHERE IS SHE?! YOU WERE SUPPOSE TO SAVE HER! WHY ISN'T SHE HERE?!" The man's eyes grew wide, shocked at the boy's outburst at first, then at the fact that neither adult told him about any cousin.

"I'm so sorry, lad, we didn't find anybody." He whispered. What was he suppose to say? Sometimes he hated being a fireman. "I'm sorry. Here, come this way." He tried moving the boy to one of the emergency vehicles to give him space, but instead the boy dropped to his knees.

"My cousin!" He sobbed, putting his hands to his heart and nearly folding in on himself. "Rosy! She's dead! No! _No_! You were suppose to save her! That's what you do!" His parents were at his side, ushering 'shush sweeties' and 'it'll be okays.' But Dudley heard none of it.

His cousin, his sister, his friend, all dead along with the body of one little girl.

Dudley sobbed the rest of the night, even in his sleep, and for many days after until he could no more. He cried from the memories, and on the same day every year for many years.

He had broken and in many little pieces, and when he pieced himself back together he still missed pieces. It was gone, never coming back.

_It was all, all dead. _

**A/N: This has been by far my favorite chapter to write. The first section was more difficult, as I was trying to keep Rosy with her personality but still keep it realistic for an eleven year old. The second part, however, came naturally. I really love Dudley's character. I even think he's great in the movies. I mean, when Harry's blowing up his aunt, Dudley is just sitting there eating like, "hey, whatever, I'm not even freaked out by it anymore." I think it's amazing. Let's not forget Harry and Dudley's ending note in both the movie and the book. I think, had Dudley been a more important character in the series, Rowling would made our outlook on Dudley a bit different.**

**For those of you who couldn't keep up, Rodulphus (Bella's hubby) was the man on the left. Rabastan was on the right. The reason I depicted Rodulphus as the tired one and Rabastan as the more talkative one was because I can only imagine how having Bella as a wife may be extremely tiring. Rabastan only has to deal with her some of the time, which is why he's less tired. **

**Anyway, hope everyone has enjoyed. Reviews are welcomed!**


	6. Just Like Me

_Book 1, Chapter 6: Just Like Me._

Rosy was on the ground, dry-heaving horribly. She felt so dizzy and sick, the world spinning around her. "W-w-what was that?" she wheezed. The feeling was one of the worst she ever felt. The world changed all around her, tilting and flipping, until she felt it bend so much it turned into a tube and sucked her up it. Then she found herself thrown on the ground and nearly throwing up her insides.

Bellatrix laughed. "Apparition. Don't worry, the first time is the worse." She grabbed Rosy's arm and hauled her to her feet. "Come on, we have to head in."

"Head in?" Rosy looked up and saw a bright blue sky, not a cloud in site. Then she looked around her. To both her right and left were giant oak trees, lined up and off in the distance were dark green hills and more trees. She realized she was on a dirt road heading towards a mansion so large all she could do was gasp. "Where are we?"

"MRIC," Bellatrix responded. That was when Rosy realized that she was not sightseeing on some vacation, she was _kidnapped _and alone with some crazy lady. Bella saw the change in the young girl's behavior and quickly said, "don't even think about it. You're on an island. You have no where to go."

Rosy glared at the lady, but couldn't stop herself from asking. "Why am I on an island?"

"Because it's where MRIC is, of course, now shut up, girly, and march, march, march!" Bellatrix walked down the road to the mansion, which was about a five minutes walk, and Rosy followed. She didn't want to be around the lady, but even she understood that there was no where else to go. Maybe she could convince someone in that mansion to take her back to her house?

Rosy asked where the other two guys were, but after receiving a curt "doin' business, you don't need to worry your pretty little face about it," left the conversation dead and the rest of the walk was done in silence.

When they reached the mahogany double doors, Rosy was worried. When the doors swung open with the help of no one, Rosy was really worried. When she saw many different men and women walking around, filling out paper work, talking with each other, all in a hurry, Rosy was really, really worried. Watching random papers and trinkets fly across the room was simply too much for her.

Rosy's breath began to speed up as her eyes darted between the many different people. It was all so weird. They were all so _freakish_. And then she remembered. She was—was it zapped? No it was more of a pully-popping thing—to this location. She didn't take a bus. Or a plane. She just freakishly appeared here. They couldn't be like her. The group of people all looked fine. Content. Like they weren't even noticing all the freakishness they were doing. No, no, no. It wasn't okay. It wasn't okay to be a freak.

"Breathe, girly, _breathe_." Bellatrix commanded, but Rosy didn't hear her. Rosy put her hand to her chest, her knees became wobbly and her breaths became louder, almost wheezy. "Hey, calm down! What's wrong?" Bellatrix was becoming worried. She had heard that some mudbloods did react negatively to all the sudden magic, but she didn't know if they ever had panic attacks. "Hey! Some help over here would be nice!" She hissed towards a group of wizards. They all paused and stared at the two, then as if turning on a switch, they all became professional and got to business. Two medi-witches came out of the group and scurried over to them. One, a skinny, dark haired woman in her mid-twenties, was trying to console the girl, while the older, chunkier woman performed spells on her.

"Panic attack," Woman Number Two said. Woman Number One then placed her hands over the girl's mouth, and Bellatrix had a sudden urge to rip those hands off and shove the down the woman's throat. How dare she try and smother the girl! But before Bellatrix could do anything, Rosy's breaths began evening out until it finally settled.

Rosy looked completely shocked. "Don't worry," Number One said, "it happens. The sudden magic can really throw a muggle-born off."

"Yes, you should be feeling better now, but I should probably grab you a calming draught," Number Two said as she got off and on her way to the medicine cabinet.

"She's not a muggle-born," Bella threw in. Number One hummed in consideration.

"She isn't? Then who is she?" She then looked at Rosy, waiting for her to explain. "Who are you, deary?"

"Oh, um, my name is Rosalian Potter."

The room went quiet, the flying airplane messages dropped to the ground, shattering viles could be heard in the distance, and every wizard and witch stared at the girl. Everyone was shocked, though while some wanted a closer look, most began backing away. She was an unwelcome child, a Light witch, and the Potter family were on the wanted list. The Aurors or Death Eaters should be out hunting her, and no one wanted to be anywhere near a Death Eater.

The only one who seemed uninterested in it at all was Number One, who instead gave a small smile and nodded. "Nice to meet you, Rosalian, my name is Sabrina Locker, but you can just call me Sabrina. It's a pleasure to meet such a sweet girl." The reactions around her didn't go past Rosy's notice, but not wanting to be rude, she gave her attention to Sabrina.

"You can call me Rosy, miss, if you want," Rosy mumbled towards the end, choosing to look down at her feet as she felt overwhelmed by the stares.

"Miss Locker, a word with you." Number Two had appeared behind Sabrina, towering over her crouching stance, giving off a mix between worry and anger. "Now." Sabrina gave a nod, told Bellatrix and Rosy that she would be right back and that they should make themselves comfy in the seats, and went on her way, all while Number Two glared down her nose towards Rosy, who in turn glared back.

Sabrina and Number Two, otherwise known as Mrs. Heather McHale, made their way to a hall opposite where they were, yet still stayed within sight of their new guests. Sabrina did not want to wander far, what with all of the employees staring bug-eyed at the poor girl.

"Yes?" Sabrina asked. She could see the glare in the medi-witche's eyes and knew this would not be a pleasant conversation.

"Do you know who that is?" McHale asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Yes, ma'am, that's Rosalian Potter. She just said so." Okay, perhaps Sabrina was being a little rude, but compared to how Mrs. McHale was acting, she could hardly blame herself.

"You do understand that the Potter family is Light, right?"

"Yes, so?"

"And that Light families on the run, which the Potters are, are put on the wanted list, right?"

Sabrina narrowed her eyes. "I doubt a baby had much say on whether or not to be on the run."

"Nonetheless," McHale started, "we should alert authorities so the Aurors can come and pick her up." She raised her chin and looked down towards Sabrina, who was only five-foot-two, and Sabrina knew that that was final word. Well phooey to her.

Sabrina crossed her arms and glared at McHale. "We can alert authorities, of course, but what our job is, is to give orhpaned witches and wizards an education and housing."

"Yes, but-"

"But nothing, ma'am. The Ministry has absolutely no right to convict a child of treason. She can have her status changed over to Dark, stay here until she is adopted, and she can even go to Hogwarts, _either way _the law can't send her off to Azkaban or to death."

McHale thinned her lips and glared at Sabrina, but eventually the glare leveled to thought, and thought to understanding, and understanding to defeat. She sighed. "Very well, fine, we'll take her in, but if authorities take her, I don't want you making a big deal out of it, ya hear?"

Sabrina stared at McHale, debating her answers until she finally decided on, "every child deserves a chance," and walked back to the girl. McHale shook her head and followed after.

"Well, Rosy, seems like you'll be staying here for a while." She looked towards Bellatrix. "If that was the plan?" Bella nodded. "Then I'll need you and your care-keeper to follow me to the prepping room, please." Rosy and Bella both stood and followed Sabrina down the long hallway until they finally entered a room on the right. It wasn't very big, to Rosy's surprise, but there was a desk, a larger chair for the desk's owner and then two chairs opposite, and filing cabinets stacked throughout the room.

"Please, have a seat, you two."

"Do you own this place?" Rosy couldn't help but ask. Sabrina laughed.

"No, deary, I'm just a Booker. When new children come in, they go through a Booker and Medi-Witch."

"But there's so many people out there! Are they all Bookers and," she paused, "whatever the other thing was?"

"Shut up, girly, we don't have all day!" Bella hissed.

"Oh, it's quite alright," Sabrina said, "in fact, curiosity is good. This is the part where we explain a lot of what's going to be going on for Rosy's new lifestyle, Miss, uh?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," she smirked. Sabrina's eyes widened and she visibly gulped.

"Ah, Mrs. Lestrange, I see, uh, nice to meet you. Not very often we get Death Eaters to bring in the new children." While not everyone knew the faces of the Death Eaters, they certainly knew their names.

"Really? I wonder why," she sad sarcastically. "The girl was brought here on order by our Lord."

Sabrina perked. "Oh, I see! So the authorities are already aware? The Ministry-?"

"-Will be informed shortly. Someone will show with the paperwork to get her situation settled, and to inform her of her, ah, loyalties." _To make damn sure she'll be a Dark witch or else._

"I see, perfect, well, with all that settled, Rosy, what was your question again?" Rosy had been sitting there quietly, going back and forth from staring at Sabrina and Lestrange. Why had Sabrina acted that way when Lestrange announced her identity? What was a Death Eater? Or a Ministry? What loyalties? Well, she could only start with one question at a time.

"I asked who those people were, but-"

"Oh, right! Well, yes some are Bookers. There are currently three Bookers employed here. There are five medi-witches, but two are absent. Those other people are mostly secretaries, nannies, teachers, or cooks."

"Why so many people?" Rosy asked in wonder.

"Well, because we house about ten or more different children here at any given time. We need cooks to feed them, nannies to take care of them, medi-witches for when they're ill, Bookers, to keep track of the childrens' social and financial coming-and-goings, and the secretaries are, of course, the ones that inform us of things we must do and when. Any other questions?"

"You said there's ten other kids here? Just like me?" Rosy smiled at this, hope in her eyes. "Really? Kids just like me?" Sabrina smiled at the child and Bellatrix looked away, refusing to be engulfed by the big, green, hopeful eyes.

"Yes, deary, there are currently twelve children, from the ages of two to eleven, living here."

"Why only eleven? This is an orphanage isn't it? Do they all get adopted by then?"

"Not always, sadly. You see, now that we must pick of the child at the first signs of accidental magic, we have, well, quite a bit of children. I know it may not seem it, but it is. Britain alone doesn't have enough families to adopt all the children, but we're currently working on setting up foreign-adoption." Bellatrix was surprised MRIC knew anything about this yet. She had heard the theory from her Lord only once, about a year ago, about how as soon as he takes over Germany he was going to set-up a foreign adoption plan, so German Pure Bloods could adopt not only German muggle-borns but English ones also, since Great Britain had the second highest rate of muggle-borns, right behind France.

"So what happens to them?" Rosy asked worriedly.

"Well, you see, in the Wizarding World, a child is educated through tutoring until the age of eleven. That's when a Wizarding education starts. The that child will go to a private wizarding school for the next seven years. There are two Wizarding schools in Britain. The first one is Muggle-Born Vocational School, or otherwise knowns as the MVS. You see, every wizarding child deserves an education. Even if they aren't powerful. So if you're a muggle-born, but without a lot of magic, then you go to MVS. Here they teach you the basic for the first five years, then a trade for the last two."

"A trade?"

"Yes, like, book-keeping or owning a shop, or whatnot. You can't become an Auror, or have a Ministry job, if you only have a certificate from MVS."

"That sounds unfair!"

"Ha!" Bellatrix laughed. "How is that unfair? What? You want weaklings running this country?"

Rosy glared at Bellatrix and huffed.

"Yes, yes, well, anyway," Sabrina started, "if you are a muggle-born with a magical core-"

"What's that?" Rosy asked. Bellatrix rolled her eyes.

"It's your magical level. A stronger magical core is a higher magical level, meaning stronger, better magic. Anyway, if a muggle-born scores high on their magical level, then they are accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the finest school in all the Wizarding World."

"Which one will I go to?" Rosy questioned. She understood that obviously Hogwarts was better, but she was okay with either one, she just wanted to be around the children that were like her.

"If you were muggle-born, you would have to take a test to determine your magical level, but since you're not, then I'm sure you've already been accepted into Hogwarts." She smiled and Rosy mimicked it.

"Okay!" Rosy paused, thoughtfully. "So, there's muggle-borns, half-bloods, and pure-bloods, right?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"What's the difference?"

Sabrina explained the differences in families that Rosy will meet on her journey through the Wizarding World.

"What am I?" Rosy asked. Sabrina took a breath and Bellatrix stared at Rosy.

"You're a half-blood," Bellatrix all but sneered.

Rosy's eyes widened as her jaw dropped. "What? No, that's impossible, though," she paused. "My parents aren't alive, though, they couldn't have been magical!" Rosy was sure she had to have been muggle-born, despite what Sabrina had said earlier.

Sabrina gave a sympathetic look. "Even witches and wizards die eventually, deary."

"But if they were a wizards then a fire shouldn't have killed them! Or a car crash! They should have been able to do something! So I can't be a half-blood-what's-ya-call-it!" Tears brimmed Rosy's eyes. They had to be wrong. Her parents couldn't have been wizards and killed so easily. They wouldn't have had to have lived with Petunia and Vernon, they wouldn't have died one fateful night driving home, they wouldn't have left her with people that hated her. But as she looked around between the two, as she saw no lies hiding behind their eyes, she knew she had to believe them.

Rosy blinked away her tears. "Okay, so they're witches or wizards or whatever. Big deal. Where does that mean I'm going, though?"

"What do you mean?" Sabrina asked, thankful Rosy hadn't cried.

"You said this is an orphanage for the muggle-borns. But I'm not. So will I not be adopted? What will happen to me?"

Bellatrix spoke this time. "The Dark Lord has shown an interest in you. He will most likely set up an adoption with a family he knows. Or not. It hasn't been said yet. But since school starts in just a month, I doubt anybody will adopt you here, girly." Bellatrix smirked cruelly, but at the relieved face Rosy gave, she became confused.

Rosy didn't want to be adopted. She was so tired of guardians, having to live with adults or siblings. She knew she would always have to answer to an adult until she became seventeen—well, until she graduated, really—but after her experiences with her aunt and uncle, she was perfectly fine remaining an orphan. Even having an almost-sibling like Dudley had many downs, perhaps more than ups.

"Who's this Lord guy you guys keep talking about?" Rosy finally asked. Bellatrix smiled cruelly again and Sabrina unconsciously flinched.

"He is the Dark Lord," Bellatrix said. "He's our dictator. He runs the country. He's the most powerful wizard in the world."

"In the whole world?"

"Yes, the whole world. And he deserves the up-most respect. You'll refer to him as 'my lord,' 'master,' or 'sir,' understand?" Rosy cringed her nose. Calling someone those fancy names sounded gross to her, but telling the creepy lady was much less appealing. Rosy nodded her head instead, though she never planned on calling anyone any of those names, and dove for a subject change.

"So I'm staying here?"

"You will live here with the other girls on the fourth floor East Wing, the boys live on the same floor but West Wing. You may not visit each others' Wings. The third floor has the classrooms, library, and play room. The second floor is the dining hall and medical room. There will always be at least one medi-witch on duty, if you ever feel ill throughout the night." Rosy nodded along.

"For schooling, you will not be attending the basic classes with the rest of the children. You will need a quick, advanced course of wizarding do's and don't's, since you will be off to school in just a little more than a month. You will be given extra tutoring on Wizarding Culture." Sabrina went on for about half an hour about what Rosy's life would be like for the next month, and Rosy gobbled it up. A new life style! She was more than excited. When Sabrina finally came to an end, Rosy couldn't help but ask her last question.

"Can I meet the kids now?"

Sabrina laughed. "Very shortly, after we finish this us."

Rosy smiled. She smiled as Bellatrix signed papers, even when she had to sloppily sign her own name, she smiled when she was sent to the medi-witch for a check-up, she couldn't even be put down when she was told she was malnournished, she smiled when Bellatrix left (with a nasty little warning of behaving and what would happen if she got dragged down here again) and she especially smiled when she left to go be introduced to the twelve other children.

She could only think one thing.

_They're all just like me._

**A/N: So I'm using wizards as plural for both witches and wizards. Just sounds better. So if you hear a group of wizards, don't think a group of GUY wizards. They're guys and girls. Unless otherwise specified. Sorry if I got into too much detail. I just had so much fun! Also sorry if this chapter was boring, the next will be introducing new characters so I hope to really make it up to you, but this chapter really helped things go along, believe it or not. Please review to give me the confidence to continue on! I love opinions and suggestions! (:**


	7. It Is, What It Is

**Due to the lack of interest in the story (six chapters, over a thousand views, yet I could count the amount of reviews on one hand) I may cancel my story and leave it up for adoption. If you would like the story continued, please review.**

_Book 1, Chapter 7: It Is, What It Is._

"Well, did you accomplish your task?" the Dark Lord, sitting in his desk chair, asked his followers. Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix Lestrange were kneeled in front of their Lord in His office, feeling pleased as ever. Not even Bellatrix's mood could be soured by Snape who was standing by the wall next to their Lord.

"Oh, yes, sir, my Lord!" Bellatrix cheerfully cried. "Bit of a fighter that one, but really no troubles."

"And the family? Who all were there?" He asked.

"It was just the girl," Rabastan spoke, "but she only mentioned an uncle when we confronted her. But searching through the house we discovered a woman and most likely a son lived there."

"No parents?"

"My Lord," Bella started, "as the girl and I were at MRIC, the Booker had asked for her information and personal life."

The Dark Lord nodded his head. "Go on."

"She informed the Booker that she was being raised by her aunt and uncle since as long as she could remember. Apparently her parents had died in a car crash when she was one-and-a-half, but the car had caught on fire so badly that their bodies couldn't be located in all the ash. Also, she was extremely malnourished when looked over by the medi-witch." Snape's face hardened in anger.

The Dark Lord nodded continuously at the news. "When did the Potter go missing again, Severus?"

Severus looked at his master, ignoring Bellatrix's sneer at his name. "The last time they were seen was on their daughter's first birthday. They held a small party of close friends. Sirius Black came to visit about five days later, but discovered the place empty with a note explaining how they were going on the run. So any time within those five days."

"And how could _you _know any of this, huh?" Bellatrix hissed, glaring darkly at Severus. She had despised the man, especially when her Lord relied so heavily on him. Why did _he _get so much praise? She did so much more! She would lay down her life for her master!

"As you've been told _multiple times_, Dumbledore kept me well informed," Snape sneered back, yet still being capable of keeping his monotone voice and uncaring face.

"Enough you two!" their master barked. "We were discussing something, in case you two have forgotten." Both bowed their head and apologized, hoping to avoid a crucio. "Now, Bellatrix, tell me, how did MRIC react when they learned of her identity?"

Bellatrix laughed cruelly. "Horribly. They were scared of her. Were afraid of us swooping in and taking her and dragging their faces across the floor while doing it. The only one who didn't seem to care was the Booker."

"My Lord," Rodulphus spoke quietly, so quiet He almost didn't hear him. Voldemort nodded his head in acknowledgment. "What of the girl's parents? I highly doubt a car crash could kill two wizards of their stature."

"Good point, but completely moot as of right now. The girl was far too young at the time of their disappearance to know anything, and I doubt the muggles would know, though I shall send someone to question them by the end of the week. The best bet in finding them, if they are real, is by exploiting their daughter. They see her as the "Light turned Dark Witch" and they'll be coming for her rescue."

"My Lord," Rabastan spoke, "what if they do show? What is your plans?" Voldemort narrowed his eyes. He was the leader, He was the one to ask questions, not this man.

"You do not have faith in me, Lestrange?" He had always made it a habit to never call them by their first names, considering he could almost never tell which one was which.

Rabastan went still. "No, my Lord, that's not what I meant, I simply meant-"

"I know what you meant," Voldemort hissed. "You, what would _you _do, Lestrange?"

"I," Rabastan started, but came to a loss of words. No matter what he said, his Lord would be angered, so he opted with silence. "I do not know, my Lord, I apologize."

"Ah, I see," Voldemort whispered. "_Crucio_!" Most people would flinch or scream at the sight of someone being crucioed. It was most certainly not a joyous sight. Rabastan bit his tongue and spasmed, though never falling fully on the floor. But not once did any of the other Death Eaters flinch at the sight of this. No, that does not mean they weren't frightened, for they were. Even Snape, who was the most cold hearted of the whole group—excluding Bellatrix, but she had lost her sanity long ago—had a silent fear of being tortured by the Dark Lord.

Rodulphus kept himself from coming to his twin brother's rescue, just as he's had to keep himself from doing before. It was painful for Rodolphus, to watch his family be tortured, but he knew to not interfere . He had learned that quickly after first joining the Dark Lord's ranks. He put up a blank mask and stared at his master's feet, praying it would be over soon for his brother.

Bellatrix was not one to care. She had seen, and taken part of, many torturing sessions. In fact, she had became so loopy in the brain that her Lord had almost given up torturing her out of punishment, He would even go as far as saying he felt disgusted in the fact that she may actually enjoy it. Instead, He found better punishments, such as stripping away rank or giving her meaningless jobs that she would hate. Most Death Eaters enjoyed their distance from their Lord, but Bellatrix was no one like that. Voldemort would send her off away from him for months on end as punishment towards the nutcase.

The crucio felt like an eternity for Rabastan, but in reality it was only a short five seconds.

"It'd do you well to not question me, Lestrange." Voldemort smirked at Rabastan's shaky form.

"Yes, my Lord, I apologize," he gasped.

"Good, now all three of you, _out_, I've business to attend to." All three raised to their feet, Rabastan shakily, and bowed deeply with a 'yes, my Lord' and quickly exited the Dark Lord's office.

Voldemort sighed and collapsed into his chair. Sure, he was angry at that damn fool for questioning him like that, acting like he needed some plan. If he did or didn't have a plan, it wouldn't matter to that man! But Voldemort also knew that the real reason he was angry was because he didn't, in fact, have a plan.

What would he do if the famous Potter family showed, indeed? There were some families He couldn't care less if they showed, they were weak, nothing, but the Potters were one the strongest Light families of the century. What if they declared war? Of course He would win, no doubt, he was The Dark Lord Voldemort, Conqueror and Dictator of Wizarding Britain. But it would be troublesome nonetheless.

He sighed deeply. "Tippy," he called out. The pop of a house elf occurred just seconds later.

"G-great Master Lord, what can T-t-tippy do's for you's Master Lord S-sir?" A high-pitch and stuttering female voice asked. The Dark Lord owned many different house-elves and sent them to maintain the many different mansions and houses He owned throughout the world, ordered to keep them clean at all times and for any time He might show. But he only owned two personal house-elves, the ones he could tolerate the most, which were the twin house-elf sisters Tippy and Tilly.

He didn't bother to look at the house-elf and instead began on his paperwork again. "Inform Lucius Malfoy that I must cancel our meeting tomorrow."

"Yes sir's!" She saluted as she held onto her clean pillowcase, the Slytherin crest adorning it, while she stared her big green eyes at her master.

"Oh, and Tippy," he began.

"Y-yes M-master Sir?"

"Bring me a bottle of Berry Ocky Rot, I have a feeling it will be a long night."

* * *

"Are you ready to meet the other kids?" Sabrina asked.

After all of the questions and paperwork, Rosy finally found herself outside the doors of the playroom, where most of the children were at eight o'clock at night. She clutched her shirt in excitement and trepidation. Sabrina stood next to her, smiling down. '

"As ready as I'll ever be," Rosy choked out, stuck between biting her lip, giggling in giddiness, and choking in fear. She brushed back her long bangs and smiled.

Sabrina smiled. "Okay."

Rosy had to keep herself from jumping up and down. She pictured on the other side to be giggles, laughs, happiness, and friends. They would playing with toys and reading to each other. They would talking and joking. And most of all, they would be happy!

But she was wrong.

When the double doors were pushed open, Rosy's face fell from a giant smile to a confused frown. There was no light shining brightly until fading into a light dim, revealing the happy faces. There was no movie-moment like she had expected. She looked back and forth from one side of the room to the other.

The room resembled more of a lounge, or a library, just without the bookcases. The carpet was a dark brown. There were giant, comfy looking chairs stationed around different tables throughout the room. There was a fire place lit up on the far end of the room, where more chairs were. There were toys and a toy chest on the right side of the room, where a small group of little children, no older than seven, were playing quietly.

There were three kids by the toys, one of which could have been no older than a toddler, two kids sitting by the fire, reading silently, a group of three lounging in the corner having a quiet conversation, and another group of three sitting near the door, these children looking the oldest, probably around ten or eleven.

All of the children, save the toddler that was far too busy catching ever-changing color bubbles in the air, stopped what they were doing and turned towards the door.

Rosy couldn't find the happiness in their eyes. Or the excitement. In fact, she couldn't even see confusion or surprise. All she found in their eyes, a mix of browns and honey and blues, staring distrustfully at Rosy. She could even see small flashes of anger in the older children that were closest to her.

Rosy gulped.

This was not what she had expected at all.

However, whatever Rosy had seen, Sabrina had either not or simply ignored, instead putting a cheery front and saying, "Hello, children! We have someone new staying with us." Sabrina laid her hand on Rosy's shoulder and gave a gentle push for her to take the lead and introduce herself.

Rosy did not, however, instead she stared at the children, took in their angered looks, their disbelief, and directed it right back at them. Rosy scrunched up her face, narrowing her eyes, and puffed out her chest, staring just as distrustfully at the group that reminded Rosy of hyenas she had seen on the telly before. She would not be frightened by bullies, not when she lived with Dudley. And if there was one thing Dudley taught Rody, it was the only way to beat a bully was to literally, well, _beat _a bully, either with fear or violence.

Sabrina had finally caught onto the mood. "Ah, well, this is Rosy Potter, eleven, and will be staying with us. Please treat her nicely." The _or else _laid in her voice, settling in everyone's head, hopefully preventing any future battle between the children and Rosy.

Sabrina looked around the room, counting the children silently. Eleven. There were eleven children. There were suppose to be twelve. She sighed. "Where is she?" she asked.

Rosy saw the children nearest, the older ones, smirk and snicker. It was the younger children playing with the toys that spoke up.

"She went to her room!" A little boy with shaggy brown hair, probably six, yelled before ignoring Rosy altogether and going back to his toys, the other children following in suit.

"Rosy, how about staying here while I go for a while-"

"-Actually," Rosy interrupted, glaring daggers at the three children near her, "I'm kind of tired, from, uh, pully-poppin' up here and all. May I go to my room, please?"

Sabrina gave a sad smile, knowing that, once again, the children around her drove off another potential friend. She wished she could understand them. Understand why they hated new children. Understand why they were so competitive with each other. "Yes, that's fine. Apparition can be tiring. Follow me and I'll show you your new room." But she knew understanding them was futile. They were muggle-born, tainted by the muggles, perhaps they would never be able to think or function like a normal wizard or witch.

The walk to the Girls Wing was quiet. Rosy was lost in thought, and Sabrina wasn't about to push anything on her.

_Why are they so mean?! _Rosy bitterly thought. Just when she thought she made knew friends, she was wrong. They were worse than Dudley! The thought of Dudley left an ache in her heart so horrible that her tiny, child hand clutched her chest and she swallow a cry.

She missed him. She left him. Her brother and friend, as bad as he was, now thought she was dead. She wondered what those two men made it seem like. The crazy lady never went into detail with Miss Sabrina, and neither Rosy nor Sabrina had the heart to ask.

She wondered how her aunt and uncle took it. Would they be happy? Sad? Would they miss her, or be happy she was gone, like they were when her parents died? A thought crossed her mind that maybe someone took her parents and made them seem dead, like they made her seem dead, but the thought didn't settle in her mind for long. There was no way her parents would have left their baby like that. They were wizards and they would fought back. They would have done something.

_They're really dead. Dead from some drunken car crash. From some horrible fire they couldn't have escaped. _She didn't feel the pain. She had never felt the pain at hearing those words. She was too young to remember her parents, and what she was told was never good. _There's nothing to say, nothing to do. It's happened, it's happened like how this happened. Like how to them, I happened. I'm dead to them all, maybe not for real, but I might as well be. There's nothing I can do about it. It is, what it is._

"Rosy," Sabrina called, sounding as if she had been trying to get the girl's attention for a while now. "We're here."

"Oh." Rosy had nothing else to say and didn't feel the need to be talkative, either. She simply stood there waiting for the woman to open the door.

Sabrina gave a worried look but continued on, opening the door. She gave a gentle shove for Rosy to go in first, and she did.

Rosy was stuck between being overly-impressed and not impressed at all. It was, by far, better than a little cupboard. These four walls were nothing to those cramped four walls that gave Rosy nightmares of being an innocent animal stuck in a horrible cage.

But these walls were not angelic, either. What she expected to be, well, for lack of better words, amazing, simply weren't. The walls were a dark tan, ugly to Rosy, though she paid it no mind. She was surprised to see the beds—not for the fact that she had never actually slept in one—but for the fact that they were almost like bunk-beds, except for each the bottom bunk was a desk, each of which had books and papers laid sloppily across them. Rosy frowned when she saw the top bunks, the actual beds, and saw that most weren't made or tidy. The sheets laid piled up and tossed around on them, messy, uncared for, and Rosy couldn't help but scowl. _To get something so nice and they treat it so horrible. What stupid kids. _She knew her bunk would never be like that, nor would her desk be untidy like most.

Her bunk at the time was neat and tidy, located on the right side of the room, far left, nearest the three giant window. At the end of the top bunk hung a plaque that read "ROSALIAN POTTER" and she frowned, once again. She hated her full name, much preferring just simple Rosy.

But she was happy to see the desk and the few books on it. She looked carefully at it all. _Wizarding Culture for Little Witches and Wizards _looked more like a child book to her, but she gasped when she opened the book to see little animations. Other books were also there, like _Muggle-Born Questions and Answers_ which looked like a very boring book, but informative nonetheless, and _Basic Spells for Kids _which Rosy knew she would be reading over very carefully at her first chance.

When Rosy heard quiet whispers near her, she turned to her right. Sabrina had apparently left Rosy to her own devices and went to speak with another girl, one Rosy hadn't noticed when first entering the room. She realized this must have been the girl that the other children were snickering at in the play room.

She wasn't sure whether or not this girl was as bad as those children she had met back there, but Rosy could at least admire her tidiness. Her desk, though covered in a mound of books, was in a neat order, not a single book sticking out too far, or too crooked, not a single parchment or quill—_that's what they're called, yes? I've seen those on the telly before. What an odd thing to use—_was out of place. Looking up at the bed she saw a bushy-haired girl laying on top of her covers, which were also tidy, talking down to Miss Sabrina, who was in turn looking up to the girl in the bunk.

"Please, deary?" Rosy caught in their whispered breaths. "Come down?"

"I said, I'm reading." Rosy thinned her lips at the tone of the girl. She was sure she probably thought herself better than others too, just like those other children did. Rosy sighed, accidentally catching the attention of the two.

"Oh!" The girl shouted in surprise. Closing her book, the girl began quickly climbing down her bunk, completing forgetting her book that had held such great importance just prior, and ignoring Miss Sabrina all together.

The girl, who must have been Rosy's age, was taller and bigger than Rosy's short and sickly thin frame, and Rosy's unruly velvet hair almost looked agreeable when compared to the girl's extremely curly bush of hair. The girl's face, not non-girly, but simply stern-featured, also looked more healthy compared to Rosy's sunken cheek-boned face; however, the girl's eyes, a light brown, didn't harbor the hatred Rosy prepared herself for. They were, just like her face, stern, and in her eyes Rosy saw questions ready to be popped off at any moment.

The girl was a knowledge junkie, Rosy realized, but it didn't bother her. A knowledge junkie was better than a bully.

The girl stuck out her hand. "Hello, my name is Hermione Granger," she said matter-of-factly. Rosy had to hold back a laugh at how professional she sounded.

She shook her hand. "Hello, I'm Rosy Potter."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Potter? Wasn't that a Light family? Ah, but you must be a muggle-born, I'm sorry, Potter must be common among the muggles, I'm sure."

"Actually, I'm a half-blood," at this Hermione's eyes widened, "and apparently it is Light—whatever that means—because that's what everyone is saying. I don't really care either way, though. But nice to meet you, Hermione."

Hermione began the questions, to which Rosy wasn't even surprised. She saw it ahead of time, in her eyes. "If you're a half-blood, why are you here? Where are your parents? Are you going to Hogwarts?"

"Don't know. They're dead. And I'm told yes, I am." She answered in unison with the questions. Hermione's face fell dreadfully, realizing her mistake.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Nah, don't worry about it. It's not like it was recent or something. They've been gone since I was one." Rosy waved it off, to which Hermione nodded, though wisely didn't bring up the subject again.

"I'm glad _you're _nice, Hermione." Rosy smiled. Hermione smiled back, a shade of pink tinting her cheeks.

"Yes, well, manners are important, especially if I'm to attend Hogwarts." Hermione straightened her back in pride.

"Oh? You must be smart."

"It's not all about smarts. It's about magic. The reason I'm here and not with the other kids are because they're mad at me because I just passed my test to attend Hogwarts. They're mad because I have a higher magic level."

"You know they're not mad," Sabrina butted in finally. Hermione looked at Rosy and gave a secret roll of her eyes that Sabrina didn't notice. Rosy bit her lips to keep from laughing.

"Anyway," Hermione said, "you probably don't know very much about the Wizarding World, huh?" Rosy gave a reluctant nod. "Well, I'll be happy to teach you." Rosy looked at the stack of books on Hermione's desk and didn't have a doubt about her teacher abilities.

Sabrina smiled at the two of them. "That's a wonderful idea! Perfect until we can get the tutor here in a few days." Rosy nodded.

"Okay then, teach on, sister," Rosy laughed, to which Hermione laughed back.

It had been jokingly, really, she wasn't sure if she would be able to have a friendship with this Hermione at the time, but would try.

Rosy hadn't a clue that later in her life, Hermione would truly become the closest thing to a sister, her best friend, even a mentor in some ways, and a student in others. That together they would have many adventures, some good, some bad, but they would happen, nonetheless. That slowly they would, piece-by-piece, create a family that didn't rely on blood or status.

That this was the beginning of her allies, her battles, her victory, her losses, her wars, would start—though most certainly not finish—with this one small, brainy girl standing across her, Rosy never knew.

But that would all come later. She didn't have a thing to worry about then, a small child, innocent, really, still living off of her naïve motto to get through life.

_It is, what it is._

**A/N: 3,759 words! Woohoo! Longest chapter yet! Okay, okay, that may not seem like a lot, but I'm trying, I promise. I enjoyed introducing Hermione, and I hope you all enjoyed it too. **

**Have I been spelling Rodolphus wrong this whole time? Thanks for telling me! No really, though, I've seen it spelled Rodolphus and Rodulphus and IDK which is used in the books, but HP Wiki says Rodolphus so that's how I'm gonna try to keep it.**

"**When will Rosy and Voldie meet?!" you demand?! Well, let me tell you! ….Not for a while. I think. I haven't written it out yet, as ideas are still filling my head, but it's at least a few chapters away, I think; HOWEVER, I think our favorite witch and equally favorite dungeon bat may be meeting soon! **


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Harry Potter, Adventure, Romance