Interlude -Rose Potter

As you enter the room, the natural light streaming in through the large windows immediately catches your attention, filling the space with warmth and brightness. On one side of the room, there is a cozy queen-sized bed with fluffy pillows and a soft duvet that looks incredibly inviting, and the bedframe is made of sturdy wood, making it feel sturdy and dependable. The headboard is upholstered with a soft fabric that looks and feels elegant, adding a touch of luxury to the room.

Across from the bed, there is a tall wooden closet with multiple shelves and hanging rods that provide ample space for clothes and other personal belongings. The closet doors have panels and metal handles that add a touch of sophistication to the room, giving it an air of refinement and style.

In one corner of the room, you notice a cozy reading nook, with a comfortable armchair and a small side table holding a stack of books of different genres, ranging from classic literature to contemporary bestsellers. The colorful spines of the books add a vibrant pop of color to the room, creating a cheerful and inviting atmosphere.

The walls of the room are painted in a soothing shade of pale blue, which creates a calming and relaxing atmosphere. A soft and plush rug covers the hardwood floor, providing a comfortable feel underfoot and adding to the overall coziness of the space.

-

As the alarm sound of ring ring filled the room, the girl with red hair sleeping on the comfortable bed stirred from her slumber. She groggily reached over to turn off the alarm clock on the bedside table, squinting her eyes as the bright light from the window streamed in.

Slowly sitting up on the bed, she rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms, feeling the stiffness in her muscles loosen up. She threw back the plush duvet and got out of bed, slipping her feet into a cozy pair of slippers.

(Rose Potter Pov)

As I yawned, I made my way out of the room, clutching a towel as I headed towards the bathroom. Upon stepping out of my bedroom, my 'aunt' emerged from her own room, causing me to smile in greeting. However, she flinched in response before muttering a quiet, "Good morning, Rose," to which I simply nodded, mildly amused.

Once inside the bathroom, I noticed a damp sensation in the air, as though someone had recently showered. Focusing my thoughts, I tapped into the source of power that sets me apart from others - the energy that makes me different, powerful, and enviable. I felt its warmth, its hunger, and its drive to dominate.

With a force of will, I unleashed this energy into the bathroom, allowing it to consume and transform the space into a sizzling, dry, and clean environment. As I drew in a deep breath, I slowly regained control of the energy, bringing it back into a more manageable form - the power that my 'aunt' referred to as 'Magic'.

As I continued to shower, I reflected on the drastic changes that had occurred in my life. My earliest memories were of being reprimanded by my aunt for pushing my cousin Dudley, who refused to share his toys with me. At the age of seven, I was forced to sleep in the cramped bottom closet, a frightening and unbearable experience that only my wishes and dreams for a better life could alleviate.

I clenched my hand and let the water fall on me as I recalled the intense fear I felt while trapped in the closet. The memory of being locked in that cramped and dark space still sent shivers down my spine.

As I grew older, I began to attend school, eagerly looking forward to making friends and social connections. However, my hopes were repeatedly dashed by Dudley's taunts and threats, as well as the ridicule and rejection of my peers. The constant barrage of name-calling and bullying made me fear for my safety, and I wondered if the torment would eventually become physical.

Despite these challenges, I remained resilient and determined to rise above my circumstances. And eventually, my life changed in a profound and meaningful way, as I discovered and embraced my true heritage and the magic that lay within me.

I fondly remember my first experience with my heritage.

Years Ago

"When she said, 'What do you have to say for yourself?' in a cold voice, I opened my mouth hesitantly, still trembling from head to foot. 'I… I wasn't the only-' 'Nobody likes a telltale!' she roared at me. I focused very hard on the wobble of her stupid wig. 'Instead of blaming others and trying to wriggle out of your poor behavior, you should be apologizing!' 'I'm-' Something extraordinary was happening. As she shouted, she stopped my apology and continued her relentless assault on me, dragging out my humiliation, I wished very hard that she would feel embarrassed too. It was as though something had spilled in the fabric-y parting of her hair, something like the ink I had been using to write out my comprehension exercises, sliding smoothly down the strands of her blonde wig. 'You are consistently a troublemaker, I don't know how many times you've ended up outside the Headmaster's office-' I was blinking in astonishment. The rest of the class was starting to stifle confused giggles. The wig was growing bluer and bluer, reaching the very ends now, completely unexplainable. 'It's no wonder your aunt is at the end of her rope with you – if I do not see a very rapid improvement in you-' She was completely oblivious to the rest of the class laughing, enjoying shouting at me far too much, but at that moment the door of the large classroom opened, and Mrs Hutchinson wandered in after her extended tea run. 'Mrs Burton, your hair!' shrieked Mrs Hutchinson. 'What's wrong with it?' she snapped, reaching up. 'It… it's blue!' 'What?' I watched in amazement as she hurried out of the room, her kitten heels cracking on the floor, and heard the swing of the door to the toilets. Then the bewildered, terrified scream. The class fell about laughing; Mrs Hutchinson was still clutching her mug of tea and gaping after where Mrs Burton had run. 'S-sit down,' she told me distractedly.

A normal kid, or someone cowed by their surroundings, I would have chalked it up to the imagination. But when my teacher's hair changed to blue, I felt a warmth in my stomach, like a cheering warmth that embraced me and accepted my wishes. After over a month of trying to feel the same warmth again, I almost gave up. But when I saw Dudley running around with a happy, smiley face while I was forced to sulk around in the corner, away from everyone, I hated it. The swirling emotion of jealousy and frustration at not getting the same warmth pushed all the resentment onto my cousin. Then it happened again; the same warmth embraced me again. He fell face first on the ground. The children in the recess laughed at his plight and embarrassment while I basked in the familiar warmth.

  Slowly, I became more familiar with the feeling of warmth, as it only came out when I desperately desired it. When my "Aunt" castigated me for not properly cleaning the garden in front of the neighbors, I desired the same humiliation she brought onto me. The water hose in the yard broke drenching her in water, eliciting chuckles from the neighbors. Or when Marge was making fun of my parents, she choked on her food and Vernon had to call the ambulance. Or when Vernon tried to hit me for the first time, I made him fall face-first.

Slowly but surely, by the age of 11, I had come far in controlling my power which brought big changes in my life: no chores, my own room, and new clothes. I stopped messing with them and didn't pull pranks or embarrass Dudley in school anymore, as harmless as they were. But still, Petunia had to move "Duders" to a different school. It was amusing that they couldn't or didn't want to antagonize me. As I discovered my "powers," I grew more and more curious about them and used them.

At the age of 13, I politely asked *interrogated* my aunt, who always had an envious look on her face when talking to or interacting with me. That's when I found out that I was a witch. A bona fide witch with magical powers. Both of my parents were magical too, and I would join the wizarding world at the age of 18. But I hated the man who destroyed my family and put my mother in the hospital.

I took deep breaths to calm down my emotions. Growing up, I had very little personal stuff, so I always guarded it or kept it close. Over time, this habit grew more and more. Then, when I learned that my family and mother were hurt by someone dangerous, I vowed to hurt him. If not for him, I would be with my parents. But a cynical part of me usually thought that if I were with my parents, maybe just maybe, I wouldn't have grown this strong because there would be no need, and the warmth only came when I was in need.

Warmth, the feeling of power and control, or love and care of a family. I didn't know the latter, so I didn't know how to choose. But my meeting with my mother would be close. I had just turned 18 and finished my A-levels. Drying myself off, I wondered when my letter would come, the letter that would take me away from my mundane life and into the magical world.

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Author note: so here's the Potter POV. I had the idea of making her more a badass type.

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