The Girl Who Lived

Archer sat in his room, mentally reviewing the end of the year. He had accomplished a lot in the short span of a few months. His study under Laura were going well and he was proving to be a prodigy in the field, as she often remarked.

As he had promised his parents, he had ordered and received a magical camera from a store in Place Cachee. It was a big and clunky machine that was rather unwieldy. It reminded him a lot of the large format non-magical cameras, except this one had a built-in flash and lacked the bellows.

It had taken some practice to accustom himself with the controls, but he found that operating it was simple. There was no need to manually focus, as the lens was enchanted in a way that it never lost focus. Controls for shutter speed and aperture normally found on non-magical cameras was absent. Simply put, it was truly a "point and shoot" camera.

His roommates had been thrilled with his idea of documenting their journey at Beauxbatons. He became the groups unofficial photographer, taking photos of the numerous excursions they made across the expansive grounds of the Beauxbatons campus.

He made sure to capture the opulence of the Dining Chamber both when it was mostly empty and when it was packed to the brim. He had wandered over to the stables and photographed the majestic Abraxan horses that dwelled there.

Fleur also featured prominently in several of the photos mailed back to his parents. That had gotten him a good amount of ribbing when he came home a few weeks back. His father had mockingly shed a few tears while claiming his boy was becoming a man so quickly. His mother hadn't been very amused by that remark and had taken to questioning him about his friendship with all the girls in his year.

He had initially entertained her by answering to the best of his abilities, but it had slowly become an annoyance. He understood why she was worried. He had explained to them the different physiology and maturation process for magicals, and it had thrown them for a loop. They were out of there element as non-magicals, so paranoia had become the new normal.

His mother constantly made sure to stress how he had to be respectful to girls and wait until they were both ready for a relationship. Which, according to his mother, wouldn't happen for a "very long time if she had anything to say about it". Her concerns were equal parts heartwarming and unnecessary, seeing as he felt zero attraction towards any of the girls in his year.

Fleur was a in weird zone of uncertainty, where she was very pretty but his memories were preventing him from forming any real thoughts of attraction towards her. When he saw her, he thought of the fierce, prideful, and aloof beauty he had met in his 4th year and gotten to know over the course of the war. The juxtaposition between the fierce warrior he remembered her to be and the child he saw in front of him was disconcerting and confusing.

She was in her second year and had seemingly lost all her friends due to her childish looks. He understood why her friends had slowly abandoned her. With the rather obvious physical changes that manifested in human magicals due to their secondary magical maturation, their thinking would be affected by the hormones as well. Hence, her roommates' interests had switched to boys and relationships.

He couldn't even count how many times Fleur had complained about her roommates' vapid conversations about boys and dating. According to her, they spent a lot more time worrying about their hair, dress, and makeup than their school assignments. It annoyed her to no end how they didn't involve her due to her childish looks.

To be fair, she did look a lot like an innocent young child that was too young to be interested in those kinds of topics. He never informed her of his opinion on the matter, however. He didn't have a death wish, and Fleur's temper could be volatile despite her short stature.

Putting Fleur aside, he had been receiving a lot of correspondence from the others in his year. He mostly received wizarding candy along with short letters expressing their thanks for helping them with their studies. While many of his classmates found it easy to cast spells with a decent amount of practice, the finer points of the theory sometimes eluded them.

He had noticed this from the beginning of his second semester, when the workload had increased substantially. Their professors had started to stress the theoretical parts of the subject as that would be where the students were heavily tested on in the end of year exams.

To combat this lack of confidence in theory, he had announced study sessions where he would help them study for the theoretical parts of the exam and practice the applied magic portion. His roommates had always been the first to show up, as they had seen firsthand how skilled he was with the material.

As the months went by, more and more people started joining the sessions until almost his entire year had shown up to his lectures in Transfiguration theory. When his position as an assistant to Laura was outed, many had begun to recognize how talented he was in the field. What started with a small group of 6 or 7, turned into a huge gathering of nearly 160 plus students.

Laura had been impressed by the size of the crowds he had drawn and taken to sitting in on his lectures to see if he was understanding the material well. In her words, "the most comprehensive way to measure your understanding of a topic was to teach it to others". The fact that so many had even bothered to take the time to attend the sessions showed that he was at the very least a good teacher.

Oftentimes, Laura would review the lecture he gave and give some constructive feedback on whether he could expand on a certain topic, or she gave him a simpler analogy to use when communicating a complex concept.

The large gathering drew the attention of the other professors and he remembered how anxious he had been when the Head of the Transfiguration Department, Bertrand Renaud attended one of his lectures. Despite his nerves, the lecture had been concluded without a hitch. When he was packing up, Renaud approached him.

He was an imposing man, with a tall and stocky build. He was dressed in older style of traditional black Wizarding robes with gold lining that accentuated his broad shoulders. He had a slightly tanned complexion that was marred with several frown lines. From the few times he had seen him during the feasts, Archer could tell he was a very serious person.

He had every right to be, as he was a well-respected figure in the Transfiguration Masters Guild. He had earned his mastery under Grandmaster Johann Schwarzkopf, a legendary master who had fundamentally changed the way Transfiguration was viewed as a field. Under his mentorship, Renaud showed himself to be a quick study. By the end of his apprenticeship, Renaud had put forth and proven a theory of his that went on to become what was currently known as Renaud's Law of Conjured Animate Constructs.

The law stated that any animate being that was conjured from non-being had two tendencies. To return to a state of non-being, and act as defined by nature and not the conjurer's will. He had essentially postulated and proven that all magically conjured animals would seek to dissipate and without any method of control, default to behavior normally observed in the wild.

He had brushed upon it during his studies with Laura, but the true significance of the law had been lost on him until he met the man who created it. Renaud had praised his ability to simplify the concepts in Transfiguration and offered him some advice on how he could improve. During their conversation, Archer brought up the law and asked about how he had tested the claim.

Renaud had obliged and given him a rundown of how wild magic affected conjured animals. While it was a sophisticated concept to wrap his head around, he nonetheless managed to understand the basics.

The reason such a law hadn't existed in his previous reality, was because wizards were using magic that had been internalized and unique to them. So, when an animal was conjured, it automatically acted exactly as the conjurer wished, with no other spells necessary.

In this reality, due to wild magic being channeled to create the animal, it acted exactly as the animal would in nature, and not how the conjurer wanted. This was a distinction that really demonstrated how large of an affect the difference in spellcasting had on the development of laws and theories.

Renaud had been impressed with his understanding of a complex law of Transfiguration and had given him permission to seek him out if Laura was ever unavailable. It was an offer that he would make use of in the future, as Laura might get busy with her efforts to prove her theory.

Desjardin had been pleasantly surprised by his interest in duelling and in turn, had surprised him as well with his knowledge of the non-magical world. He reflected on the meeting with a bittersweet feeling.

He stood outside the office as he took stock of his uniform. Seeing nothing out of place, he brushed off an imaginary piece of lint from his should before standing up straight and knocking on the door.

Waiting a couple of seconds, he heard a muffled "Come in!"

Twisting the doorknob, he walked in and greeted the professor. "Good afternoon, Professor Desjardin. How are you today?"

Desjardin grinned. "Ah, Mr. Beaufort! I am doing very well today. How about yourself?"

"Busy with studying, professor. As you know, all my classmates are preparing for the final exams next week. All the upper years have been telling us how hard they are going to be, especially yours."

He laughed heartily. "Nonsense! They're just trying to scare you kids. So long as you all study the material mentioned in the packet handed out at the beginning of the week, there's no reason anyone should get less than an Exceeds Expectations.

In your case, I wouldn't even bother worrying about it. Your skill in the practical assures me that you have a deep knowledge of the underlying theory behind the Charms you will be asked to demonstrate. I will be quite surprised if you get anything other than an Outstanding! You are my best student after all!"

Archer gave him a shy smile. "Thank you for your praise, Professor. However, I don't think it's fair to say that I'm your best student though, as I've seen several others succeed in your class when it comes to the spells."

Desjardin waved his hand. "Now, now, Archer. There is no need to be modest. While many others have proven to be skilled in the practical portion of the subject, few can claim to be able to cast the spells silently in their first year. The fact that you can even accomplish such a thing shows the amount of practice and dedication you put into learning. Don't be shy, my boy. Embrace your exceptionalism!"

Being complimented by his professor felt good. Even if he had several years of Charms theory in his head, it still did nothing to take away from the fact that he had to put in hard work to regain his skill. Not to mention working around how differently magic worked in this reality.

It was a foreign feeling, seeing as most of the years he spent at Hogwarts were with professors who all decided that he wasn't worth the effort after two disastrous years where he had been a mediocre student.

To this day it blew his mind that none of them bothered to sit him down and talk to him about why he might be slacking. His parents had been prodigies in their field, so much so that the professors often mentioned them to him repeatedly. Despite that, his lackluster performance had not drawn any suspicion, and it was chalked down to him being an average wizard that didn't inherit the skills of his parents.

Even his favorite professor, Filius Flitwick had never bothered interacting with him outside of class. With his skill in duelling, he could have easily reached out to him during his fifth year running the DA. When he had relived those moments during Occlumency training, it made his blood boil that the supposedly well read and wise professor had chosen to not pass on his skills. So many lives could have potentially been saved if they had gained even a single month of dedicated training from him.

He lightly shook his head to get him out of his somber mood. He needed to focus on getting Desjardin open to the idea of training him. A lot of his plans depended on him getting some sort of formal training to justify his skills. It would also serve as proper training for what was to come.

"Thank you for your compliment. I came here today because I wanted to learn more about something you have a lot of experience in. On our first day, when you introduced yourself, you mentioned that you were a World Champion duellist.

I have done some research about duelling and found myself very interested in competing. I've read a couple of books on the subject and wanted to learn more when I remembered your background. How exactly can I learn more about duelling? Do you have any resources that I can use to practice?"

Desjardin's genial smile disappeared as soon as he heard the explanation. His eyes sharpened as his gaze took on a piercing quality. His face adopted a blank expression, one that looked very intimidating and cold. It was a huge departure from the normally jovial and carefree expression Desjardin wore when teaching and interacting with students. The atmosphere of the room suddenly stilled with his metamorphosis.

"You are interested in duelling, you say? Tell me, Mr. Beaufort. What do you truly know about duelling?"

If he did not have the memories of his past, he would have been utterly terrified of even being in the same room as this man. Then again, after facing Voldemort several times, not many things could scare him anymore. Though, whether that was a positive thing was debatable.

He forced himself to stay calm and not react to Desjardin's abrupt shift in temperament as he replied. "Duelling is a sport in the magical world that has its traditions rooted in the ancient magical kingdom of Camelot. It was used as a method of resolving disputes and as a form of entertainment. There are certain traditions from that time that are observed to this day, such as the initial bow to the opponent.

Paces used to be measured in the past, but with the introduction of the ICW's Duelling Committee, the format of competition was standardized. Only formal wizarding duels involve that aspect nowadays.

The magic used in a duel is regulated heavily by the committee, with different rules being present depending on the tournament in question. The U-15 International Tournament is the one with the most restricting rules on the scope of magic available to the duellist. These restrictions are slowly relaxed when it comes to the U-17 and U-19 tournaments, culminating to a free for all in the professional circuit.

The only thing that is standard across all the tournaments is that only spells not considered Dark by the ICW are allowed. Any spells that causes permanent injuries are not allowed, and the penalty for breaching that rule is disqualification from tournaments and a stay in prison."

Desjardin had kept his piercing gaze trained towards him during his explanation, but it hadn't bothered him that much. Once finished, he leaned back and awaited Desjardin's reply.

An uncomfortable tension built up during the silence, and it was taking a lot of effort to stay still. After what seemed like an eternity, Desjardin opened his mouth. "A very concise explanation that hits all the key points. You certainly seem to have done your research, Mr. Beaufort. However, that is not the answer I was looking for.

Yes, formats and guidelines have been established for competitions' sake, but that is not the true nature of duelling. A duel is a battle between two magicals. Simple as that. It is a no holds barred fight for supremacy between you and your opponent.

While it has been reduced to a sport in the last couple of centuries, its roots lie in violent conflict. The fates of entire families were decided by the result of a single duel. Wars have been won and lost all over a single duel. It is a time-honored tradition that has reaped the lives of both the noblest and unscrupulous men throughout history.

My interest in duelling started in a similar fashion when I witnessed a pensieve memory of a match starring the seven-time World Duelling Champion Filius Flitwick. I approached my Charms teacher with my interest, and he gave me the same advice that I will give you right now. Duelling is a chaotic sport where the possibility of death is ever present, until you are ready to embrace that risk, do not pursue it in any manner.

While competitions have become a lot safer than they once were, when it comes to the U-19 and professional tournaments, death is something that occurs occasionally. In fact, I was very nearly killed in my first year on the professional circuit. Do not be fooled by the glamour that people have given it. It takes years of effort to build the necessary skills and one mistake could mean your demise."

It was startling how serious Desjardin was in his response. Whatever little he had learned about formal duelling had been through Julius and Gellert, both of whom were highly skilled duellists of their respective generations. While some of it had been useful, learning the guidelines and limitations on spells had been unfeasible during the war.

His squad had cut a bloody path across Europe while fighting Voldemort's forces. Mercy and spell limitations had been thrown out the window for ruthless efficiency. The brutality they inflicted upon the enemy had earned them a reputation that rivaled the Death Eaters during the height of the first Blood War.

None of that would have been achieved if Dumbledore's inane policy of mercy and non-lethality had been enforced. The same went for limiting his spell repertoire out of some misguided sense of honor.

To address Desjardin's concern, he had seen Death, and interacted with her several times. While he could never tell him that little fact, he could give him a convincing enough argument.

Straightening up and giving the coldest glare he could muster, Archer spoke. "I appreciate your advice, Professor. However, I can comfortably say that I am aware of the risks when it comes to duelling. If I were not confident that I understood the situation, I would not have bothered approaching you for help. The question is, are you prepared to help me once you realize how serious I am?"

Desjardin's expression wavered for a second as he met his glare. Their staring contest continued for a short while before it was broken by a light chuckle. It was as if the man who was icily questioning his motives disappeared in a flash, as Desjardin smiled.

"My, my. It seems there is much more to you than meets the eye, Mr. Beaufort. I will admit I underestimated the strength of your conviction. Then again, one does not become an international fencing champion without a certain amount of talent for violence."

Archer eyes widened as he heard the remark. "You are aware of my fencing background, professor?"

"Of course, Mr. Beaufort. We make it a point to conduct background checks on all our students as part of the admissions process. Everything from your family history to your school grades and extracurricular activities.

We were all pleasantly surprised by how well-rounded you were as an individual. Your private tutors sang your praises, hailing you as a genius. Your instructors in martial arts and fencing spoke vividly of your dedication and swift learning speed. The number of fencing tournaments you won was quite eye-catching, don't you know?"

He blinked at the Desjardin's revelation of the professor's being aware of his background. "Surely fencing wouldn't draw so much attention, would it? I would think that non-magical sports were not of much interest to the magical world."

Desjardin laughed. "While that is true for some sports, fencing is one of the few exceptions, especially in France. Like duelling, fencing also has a violent history. There are quite a few similarities between the two, as sword fighting has always been a time-honored tradition.

In fact, a lot of the older Pureblood families educate their children in the basics of fencing. I'm aware that you make use of the old gymnasium every morning. I'm sure you noticed the fencing platform in the room.

There was a time when Beauxbatons educated all students in sword fighting. At one point in history, it was the only viable way to defend oneself without the use of magic in the non-magical world. Nowadays, that has long since ceased to be the case.

As such, the class that was initially mandatory was scrapped. With the discoveries in temporarily boosting physical prowess with magic, fighting with swords fell out of favor. However, it is still a popular training method to build good habits for footwork and posture in duelling.

That is why I anticipated this conversation, though I didn't expect you to approach me this early on in your academic career. I was expecting to have this conversation during your third or fourth year."

He would never have thought that any of the older Pureblood families would deign to engage in non-magical sports. Then again, it could be because he was used to the snooty English Pureblood families and not the French ones. It was worth researching the background and history of the Pureblood families of France in greater depth, seeing as Laura suspected he was the descendant of one, maybe two.

"Seeing as I am here early, what do you think of helping me start my duelling career?"

"I wish I could, Mr. Beaufort. I can tell that you are serious about pursuing duelling. Based off your track record, I can strongly assume that you will show a great talent for it as well. Sadly, it is not possible for anyone under 13 to register for a tournament.

Until you undergo your second magical maturity, it will be detrimental to your magical growth to engage in activities that strain your channeling capacity. It would be extremely irresponsible of me to damage the potential of such an excellent student like yourself.

So, while I will point you to some resources you can use to educate and prepare yourself, we can only start truly working towards the goal of competing after your 13th birthday."

Archer froze. There it was again. The goddamn magical number 13, preventing him from accomplishing something he wanted to do. This was becoming a very annoying pattern in his life.

Taking a moment to collect himself and prevent an outburst of pent up frustration, he addressed Desjardin. "Thank you very much for guiding me, professor. While I find myself disappointed at not being able to compete, your offer of training me after my 13th birthday is something I appreciate you making. I look forward to training with you in the future."

Desjardin leaned forward and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Mr. Beaufort. Sometimes, it's best not to rush things before we are ready. You are my best student, whether you accept that position or not. I'm certain that you will succeed in anything you put your mind to and will happily train you if your interest in duelling is still there after your 13th birthday."

Archer gave a stiff nod. "Thank you very much for your time, Professor Desjardin. I will take your words into consideration."

"It is no problem, Mr. Beaufort. Feel free to come to my office hours if you need help with anything."

Recognizing the dismissal, he got up and bid Desjardin goodbye before leaving the office and heading straight to his dorm. He went on to study hard for the Charms exam and went on to rank first in his year.

Reflecting on that conversation was difficult for him. He desperately wanted to take a proactive role in preparing for the upcoming war with Voldemort. It was coming. Of that he had no doubt. The details were all inconsequential. It was the endgame that mattered.

Planning for the future kept him up at night. He knew that there was really nothing he could do at this point, other than working as hard as he could to get back up to snuff. Still, he had never been very good at the waiting game. Even in between missions for the IDSC, he was either training or learning. He never took a break if he could help it.

That same mentality of constant work followed him to this new reality. Patience was important, but the number of things he could be doing to offset any disadvantage he had took precedence. As he went through possible scenarios of gaining influence in Britain, a small beep went off next to his bed.

Turning his head to the side, he saw the LEDs in his alarm clock reflecting a large number 12. It was 12:00 AM on July 31st, 1991.

'Happy 12th birthday to me. One more year before I can undergo the Inheritance Ritual at Gringotts and start training under Desjardin.'

It was funny how that was his immediate thought as he realized he was a year older. His feelings about his birthdays had been impacted by his Occlumency training. July 31st was typically a day of suffering for him at the Dursleys. It meant less food, more chores, and a general increase of vindictiveness on the part of Vernon and Petunia. He had long since gotten used to it not being more special than any other day.

This general apathy for his birthday was how he found out that his parents were planning a party for him. They thought they were being so sneaky with the invites, but he had noticed how winded and tired their owl Athena was. She had obviously gotten a decent workout flying to Italy and Spain to deliver the invitations to Tony and Javier.

He took it in stride, seeing as this was the first time they were inviting anyone over. All his previous birthdays were celebrated among themselves, as he had no other friends to speak of. It was a sad thought, and would have affected any other child, but he was not any other child, so it didn't matter to him.

Though, from the excitement and gusto his parents were showing as the day came closer, a thought struck him out of nowhere. How worried had they been about him not having any friends to celebrate with?

Every year they had been satisfied with going on a shopping trip during the day and a nice dinner out. Now that he was attending school and was close with other children, they took it upon themselves to try and throw him a surprise party.

He was genuinely touched by how sincere they were in their intentions. It was at times like those when he thanked whatever cosmic deity gave him such loving parents. His life could have been much worse than it turned out. While he was confident that he could handle whatever Fate threw at him, it was still a blessing to have been adopted by Jean and Sofia.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. They had put so much effort into his party. The least he could do was act surprised and be awake enough to enjoy it. With that thought in mind, he drifted off to sleep within minutes.

He woke up later than usual as he observed his clock showing 10:30 AM in bright red characters. Getting up, he went through his morning ablutions before heading downstairs. His parents wished him a happy birthday with bright smiles on their faces. Returning their smiles, he gave them both a hug before being distracted by the tantalizing smell coming from the kitchen.

Walking inside, he saw a plate of double chocolate chip pancakes stacked high with fresh strawberries and whipped cream on top.

He grinned at the delectable sight. 'Yep. Today is going to be a great day.'

As Archer was sitting down for breakfast, hundreds of miles away in the United Kingdom, a girl's eyes shot open, alight with excitement.

Her name was Rose Lily Potter, or as the public liked to call her, "The Girl Who Lived". It was quite a morose title for a girl her age to have. It was more accurate to say that she was "The Girl Who Didn't Die".

During the Blood War in the 1970s the British magical community was in a dark place. The self-proclaimed Dark Lord Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters, had slaughtered many people who fought against their views on blood supremacy. To them, Purebloods were superior and more deserving wielders of magic than those of "impure" blood.

Her parents had been one of the most vocal proponents against their worldview, and it had gotten their entire family targeted. Voldemort had attacked Potter Manor, the home of her paternal grandparents and nearly killed them.

Thankfully, her mum and dad had arrived in time to help, but sadly, Voldemort proved too strong. Charlus and Dorea Potter had sacrificed their lives to give her parents enough time to flee. To this day whenever the topic of her grandparents come up, it affected their mood for the worse.

After that life-changing event, they had joined Dumbledore's vigilante group The Order of the Phoenix and really started to fight back. She could never get any details out of them, but some of her parents' friends had given her an idea.

Her mother's temper had become volatile and she earned a reputation of using fire-based spells to burn her opponents to a crisp. It was how she got the nickname Fire Lily, both for her red hair and her skill in fire-based spells.

Her father, on the other hand, had utilized his skill in Transfiguration to devastating effect. Just talking about how he had fought had been difficult for the ones telling her. He had been hailed as a Transfiguration prodigy during his time at Hogwarts, to the point that Britain's premier Transfiguration Mistress Minerva McGonagall had offered him an apprenticeship.

He had declined and signed up with the Aurors, but the fact that she had even offered spoke volumes of his talent. He had developed several Transfiguration based methods to protect himself and his allies on the battlefield. His most famous one was known as the Chain Defense.

With a single pebble or piece of rubble, he would create a chain that protected him against any Dark Curses and spells his opponents cast at him, including the Unforgivables. The broken links that took the spells could then be transfigured into deadly weapons he could send back at his opponents.

The most macabre thing she had ever heard was him blowing Evan Rosier into pieces with a Blasting Curse and then using his remains as a defense against spells. She remembered having thrown up after hearing that, and it had affected the way she saw her father. Those stories had opened her eyes to the inherent cruelty of the war and how it had changed good people. It was hard to confront her parents about their actions, but it had been for the best.

While they were disappointed at having the conversation while she was still young, they had been honest with her about why they had done what they did. Apparently, Sybil Patricia Trelawney, popularly known as Hogwarts' resident fake psychic, had made a prophecy involving her and Neville Longbottom.

That prophecy had been overheard by a Death Eater, who had gone and told Voldemort. He had subsequently started a crusade to find the "child of prophecy". She had the misfortune of being born at the very tail end of the prophesized timeline, so she and her parents were hunted in earnest.

They had gone under an obscure charm called the Fidelius, which relied on a trusted person to keep a secret. Any who weren't told the secret would not be able to remember anything about it. In their case, it had been the location of their cottage in Godric's Hollow. Sadly, they had chosen the wrong man.

Peter Pettigrew had been a close friend of her father since his first year at Hogwarts. His betrayal had blindsided them, and Voldemort had found out about their location. On October 31st, 1981, during the festivities of Samhain, Voldemort attacked their home.

He had spared James because he was of "pure blood", though that was likely an excuse to coerce him into "donating" the Potter fortune to his organization's coffers. With her father out of action, he attempted to kill her mother and her. Her mother had prepared a ritual for that exact situation as a last resort and had activated it to protect her from Voldemort.

The protection ritual had been based on an archaic field of sacrificial magic rooted in love, specifically maternal love. It was one of the most powerful and mysterious of all ancient magics, and something her mother had studied during her brief stint with the Unspeakables after graduating Hogwarts. The ritual required her to willingly sacrifice her life, but things hadn't gone according to plan.

When she had stood in Voldemort's way and initiated the ritual by begging him to kill her instead, he had opted to send a Dark Cutting Curse into her chest. She had crumpled onto the floor and started bleeding profusely, all the while trying to stand back up to finish the ritual.

Voldemort walked over the bleeding form of her mother, up to her crib, and cackled malevolently before casting the Killing Curse at her. For some reason, still unknown to her mother, the ritual activated just in time to shield her. Voldemort's curse was intercepted and then rebounded, vaporizing his body when it struck.

After she had somehow managed to survive the encounter, her Uncles Sirius, Remus, and Headmaster Dumbledore along with the rest of the Order had arrived. Her mother and father had been stabilized before they were portkeyed to St. Mungos hospital. She was taken by Dumbledore to Hogwarts to have Nurse Pomphrey check her over.

When her parents had finally woken up, they had frantically asked for her, and been told that she was safe. After an interview with the Aurors, the news had leaked to the public within minutes that the Dark Lord Voldemort had died after he tried to kill her, and of her miraculous survival against the unstoppable Killing Curse.

That night, she had been christened as The Girl Who Lived by a special, breaking news edition of The Daily Prophet. Her name was on everybody's lips by the next day. People were repeatedly and joyfully toasting her in pubs across Britain. Her status had risen to that of an urban folk hero almost overnight.

Life since the attack had been calm, for the most part. Her parents had taken it upon themselves to protect her from any harm. The incident must have traumatized them badly, seeing as her parents retreated to Potter Manor and sheltered her from the public.

It wasn't even a couple of days before tragedy had struck once again. Frank and Alice Longbottom had been tortured to insanity by Death Eaters searching for their leader. She still had vague memories of the way her parents had broken down upon hearing the gruesome fate of the Longbottoms.

They became so paranoid that her father's old Auror Instructor, Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody, would have been proud. The manor's wards had been set to siege mode, which had quadrupled the defensive measures against any foreign presences.

The list of people who could even access their Floo whittled down to 4, and they spent the next year jumping at every shadow or small noise in the manor. Along with this propensity for overreaction, they always kept her in their sight.

Things had taken a turn for the better once the Death Eater trials had been completed. Her father still felt that several of them who had walked free deserved to be locked up. He was most likely right, seeing as they had gone on to pass their bigoted ideology onto their progeny.

Lucius Malfoy had been the most egregious case of this lack of justice. His son Draco had become a disgusting human being spouting the same rhetoric of the Death Eaters. Ever since she first met the blonde ponce, she had been creeped out by the way he had looked at her. The first time she had met Draco had also been the first time her family had been out in public since the attack.

They had been swarmed by reporters and well-wishers wanting to meet her. Just as they were about to be overrun, in walked Lucius Malfoy and his family. The slimy git had then pretended to help her family out by dispersing the crowd.

The meeting had been wrought with tension as her father had a stare down with him as their wives did the same. Draco Malfoy had leered at and turned up his nose at her, remarking that she "didn't seem like anything special".

Lucius had chided him for his statement and had taken the opportunity to "apologize" as he glared at her. Her father had gotten them out of there fast, but that meeting had been enough for her to categorize that entire family as people to avoid.

Rubbing the grit out of her eyes, she smiled brightly as she tossed the covers off herself. Bounding out of bed and down the stairs, she was greeted to the sight of her mother humming a familiar tune while making some French Toast.

Her father was sitting at the table in his red and gold Gryffindor bathrobe, sipping from a piping hot mug of coffee while perusing the Daily Prophet. Upon seeing her, he set his coffee down and grinned.

"There's the birthday girl! I was wondering whether I would have to wake you up the Marauder way this morning."

She grimaced at the statement. The last time she had received a "Marauder wake-up call", she was hoisted out of bed by her ankles and tickled mercilessly for a half a minute before being drenched in ice-cold water. She did not want to experience that anytime soon.

"One of these days, Dad. I'm going to get you back for that!"

He father chuckled at her threat. "The day you manage to surprise your dear old Dad is the day I willingly admit that I'm old."

Rose scowled before sticking her tongue out at her father.

He laughed her off as he walked up and gave her a hug. "Happy Birthday, Rose. I can't believe how fast time flies. It seems like just yesterday you were begging me to read you a bedtime story before tucking you in."

Rose groaned loudly. "Daaaad! You're embarrassing me!"

He laughed as his hands cupped her face. "My darling daughter. Today marks the start of the next chapter of your life. Your mother and I understand how hard the past few years have been on you.

The limited contact with friends, the constant glamour charms when going out, the necessity of secrecy. We wish things didn't have to be this way, but sadly that's how they turned out. The past is the past, and the only thing we can do is move forward.

Despite all of this, you have grown to become the sweetest and smartest young girl we could have hoped for. We want you to know how proud we are of you. You're going to love Hogwarts! You will make friends for life and resurrect the legacy of the Marauders!"

He finished with a wink.

Upon finishing, he was interrupted with a light slap on the shoulder. "James! She will not take up pranking if she knows what's good for her!"

Her mother arrived by their side with a playful scowl on her face.

After chastising her father, her mother pulled her into a tight hug. "Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I can't believe you're already 11."

Her father shot her his patented half-smirk. "She really did get that adorable scowl from you."

Her mother dissolved into laughter as she agreed. "That is true. She inherited my stunning good looks as well." She joked as she pecked his cheek.

It was her father's turn to scowl as he looked at her. "Don't remind me. I'll have to practice my intimidation tactics for the boy she's inevitably going to bring home one day. Maybe I'll break out the old Auror armor. That'll scare him off right quick."

Lily laughed loudly before catching him in a searing kiss. Rose gave a cry of "Eeew!" as she ran into the dining room.

"You're going to have your work cut out for you, James. After all, you know what happened when I turned 13."

James frowned. "Don't remind me. I had to pull out all the stops to keep those no-good louts off you during our third year. I almost ran out of prank ideas before they chose to stop."

Giggling, Lily grabbed his hand and guided him back to the dining room. "Well you won't have to deal with it for another 2 years at least. Maybe you can use that time to teach Rose some tricks to defend herself."

James gave her a worried look. "Her year is going to be filled with the heirs to several Pureblood families, most of them Dark. While I trust Minnie and Albus to watch over her, I'm worried about sending her. They can't always be there to protect her.

Those kids have grown up being told that she was the reason for their family's damaged reputation. Her blood status will only cause even more trouble for her. She's going to be a target for them the moment she boards the Express."

Lily stopped as she solemnly reflected on the years of discrimination she faced at Hogwarts. It was true, Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster couldn't monitor every interaction between students. She could attest to that, as she had attended during the height of the Blood War.

The students of Slytherin, including her best friend at the time had adopted the poisonous Pureblood supremacy philosophy and made their opinions about Muggleborns at Hogwarts well known. Several first-year Muggleborns had chosen to leave Hogwarts permanently for different schools after being attacked multiple times by older Slytherin students.

The war had changed the dynamic between the houses, and her beauty had drawn the attention and ire of several older Slytherin boys, who tried to "teach her the place of mudbloods in their society".

It was a good thing that she was handy with a wand, as several of them found out. Otherwise, they might have had the opportunity to follow through on their heinous threats.

She remembered the wide-eyed innocence with which she stepped into the magical world. Her daughter was just like her in that respect, with a burning curiosity to learn about the wonders of magic. Sending her to Hogwarts would undoubtedly foster that love of learning and allow her to study under some of the greatest masters of their fields.

At the same time, she shared James' anxiety. She didn't want her daughter to come face to face with the evil side of their world so soon. Not that being almost killed by Voldemort had helped, but she had been a baby then, and did not remember the night in question.

The Prophet with its sensationalizing of her status hadn't helped in the least. With how often reporters would invade their privacy, they had to take several inconvenient security measures just to go out. The years had been tough on their family, especially with prominent Death Eaters avoiding Azkaban, with some even working in the Ministry.

James had quit his job as an Auror because she had been so worried about him not coming home one day. While their finances were beyond secure, especially after she had diversified their investment portfolio, being cloistered in the manor had been tough on their marriage.

Rose had been her guiding light for the longest time. She could suffer anything for her daughter. Watching her grow up to be the kind and understanding girl she became had been one of her greatest joys. Now, with the possibility of danger at Hogwarts, she was questioning whether sending her was the right move.

"James? Do you think maybe we should send her elsewhere?"

James looked at her in disbelief. "Elsewhere? Like another school in the Continent or the Colonies?"

Lily bit her lip in consternation. "Hear me out, James. While I understand we both share a deep connection with Hogwarts, your worries are well founded. Lucius' son, along with the other sons of his Death Eater buddies are going to be part of Rose's year.

Do you really think we should take the risk and send her, knowing who she's going to be studying with their? I'm sure there are other schools who would love to accept her."

James ran his hand through his messy black hair. "I don't know, Lily. She's been looking forward to attending Hogwarts with her friends for so many years. Even if it could keep her safe, would we be doing her any favors taking her away from all the people she knew?"

Lily was unable to look at him. His question cut deeply. Could she send her daughter away from all her friends, all in the hope of keeping her safe? Rose would not like that. Such a decision could potentially damage their relationship permanently. Did she have the strength to ignore the pain it would bring her and James, all to keep her daughter ignorant of the evil that lurked in the shadows?

James squeezed her hand. "Lily-flower. I understand your worry. However, this isn't a decision for us to make. It's Rose's decision. We have to ask her, and her choice is final."

Taking a deep breath, she nodded and put on a smile as she made her way to the table. Rose sat on the chair, eating a plate of French toast with delight. Seeing her approaching she smiled.

"Your French Toast is as amazing as always Mum!"

Lily stroked her daughter's hair, the dark auburn curls flowed between her fingers as she thought about the situation with Rose's education. A strained smile decorated her face as she responded.

"That's great to hear, sweetie. Would you like two more slices?"

"That'd be great! Thanks Mum!"

"You're welcome sweetie. I'll be right back with them."

Lily Potter walked back into the kitchen with a grim expression on her face. She knew her daughter would never consider another school. Not after waiting for so long. It was up to her to figure out how she was going to protect her daughter.

As she was making Rose's second serving of French Toast, a loud squeal sent had her rushing to the dining room with her wand drawn. She was greeted to the sight of Rose jumping in joy as she held a cream envelope in her hands.

Lily had a sinking feeling in her stomach upon seeing the envelope that signified the start of her life in Magical Britain. Rose's excitement was infectious, as despite her worries, she was happy that her daughter received the acceptance letter. Now came the hard part.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked as she levitated the slices of French Toast onto Rose's plate.

Rose ran over and hugged her tightly while still jumping like a jackrabbit.

"My Hogwarts letter came! It's finally here!"

Lily gave a light chuckle before turning serious. "Calm down, dear. Before you send your reply, there was something your father and I needed to talk to you about."

Rose sensed the odd change in her mother and instantly grew somber. "What do you mean, Mum?"

Sighing, Lily slowly marshalled her husband and daughter into the living. Rose picked the chair facing the couch while her and James took a seat on the couch.

Taking a deep breath before starting, Lily spoke. "Honey. Your father and I were talking about Hogwarts and he raised some strong concerns about you attending."

Rose looked like she was about to pipe up, only to be silenced by a look from her. "Before you say anything, I want you to understand where we are coming from. The heirs of several Death Eaters will be attending Hogwarts along with you. These children have been taught to despise you ever since Voldemort's death. While we trust the staff to look out for you, they cannot always be there to protect you.

I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you, sweetie. I've told you about some of my experiences with the type of people who will be in your year. They hate me for my actions during the war, and that will be transferred to you should you attend Hogwarts.

There are several other great schools out there, Rose. Hogwarts is not the only option you have. I've heard amazing things about Beauxbatons in France, and the Salem Institute in the United States. Both are top notch institutions where you will get the best education possible."

Rose couldn't hold her peace any longer at that point. "No! You're asking me to leave all my friends?! What about Bianca? Neville? Susan? I've been looking forward to going to Hogwarts with them for so long! You can't just make me give that up and go to a different country! Why in Merlin's name would you even think I would consider doing that?!"

James interjected before her tirade continued. "Rose Lily Potter! You will not speak with such disrespect towards your mother!"

Rose instantly quietened down, but the anger in her eyes did not abate.

James sighed before running his hand through his hair. It was a nervous tick he inherited from his father, and something he had tried to get rid of several times unsuccessfully. This was not the way he imagined having this conversation, but the arrival of her Hogwarts letter had pushed the schedule forward, for better or worse.

"Darling. You know how difficult life has been for us. We have been forced suffer many inconveniences in the name of security. Your mother and I are worried that once you head off to Hogwarts, we won't be able to protect you like we are able to at home.

Your mother is correct that there are other schools who would love to have you. However, there is one thing that in our worry, we didn't properly consider before. Your status within our society makes going to another school difficult. You're the Girl-Who-Lived. Regardless of how much you loathe the title, you are the saviour of the British Wizarding world.

If you chose to not attend Hogwarts, it would offend a lot of people and cause some political fallout. I'm not worried about it because I have enough capital to spare. I can call in a few favors to lessen the impact and our family will whether the storm as we always do.

Albus and Minnie would understand, but I have no doubt the Ministry would have a problem with it. Ever since that horrible Samhain night, you have become a very influential figure. It would be egg on their face if another country had the privilege of educating the Girl-Who-Lived.

Despite all of that, if it meant you being safer, I would let you go elsewhere in a heartbeat. If it was my choice, that is. Upon your 11th birthday, only you have the power to decide what school you want to attend.

Know that your mother and I will respect your choice, no matter what it is. We still want you to give it some thought before deciding."

With his piece finished, he settled back down on the couch and waited for his daughter's response while squeezing his wife's hand to give her some comfort.

The family stayed silent, the ticks of the grand grandfather clock filling the room for several minutes. Finally, Rose broke the silence.

"Mum. Dad. I want you to know that I love you both so much. I get why you don't want me to go to Hogwarts, but I want to go. My friends are all going there, and I've been wanting to learn there for as long as I can remember. Besides, won't I be a coward if I just let those Death Eater ponces run me off?"

Her mother muttered "Language." While her father snorted.

Turning to her mother, her father smirked. "She seems to have inherited your legendary stubbornness as well dear."

"Well she definitely got that sense of honor and courage from you."

Her father grinned in response. "I know, right? A true Gryffindor in the making!"

The tension in the room deflated almost immediately at his joke as they all laughed. Her mother got up and walked to her. Before she knew it, she was wrapped up in her embrace. "Promise me you'll be safe, sweetheart."

"I promise, Mum. I'll make sure to be safe. Don't worry. I have Bianca, Neville, and Susan to help me."

She felt her mother gently stroking the back of her head as her warm lips descended onto her forehead. "I know, sweetie. I'm so proud of you. You're going to be an amazing witch one day."

James joined in by ensconcing them both in a bear hug. "Leaving out your dear Dad, are you?"

They both chuckled at his comment as they broke apart and made it a group hug. Rose closed her eyes as she enjoyed the warmth and safety of her parents. While it made her a little sad to make them worry, this was something she had to do. Hogwarts wouldn't know what hit it.

Lily went upstairs and retrieved an inked quill and a piece of parchment for Rose's reply. Rose grabbed the quill and wrote out a short letter of acceptance before sending it off with the owl that delivered the letter. They finished breakfast, got dressed, and stepped into the Floo while calling out "Black Cottage!".

A flash of green fire accompanied by a swirling sensation shot them through the Floo Network and sent them to their destination. Her godfather's house.

Coming out of the chimney, she was greeted by a shrill squeal as a black-haired missile barreled into her. "Rosie! Happy birthday! Did you get your Hogwarts letter?!"

Rose beamed at her. "Yep! Got it just half an hour back!"

Her cousin Bianca Black squealed again. "Oh Merlin! I can't believe we're going to be first years at Hogwarts!"

"I know right?!"

The girls giggled as they started planning out all the things they would be shopping for when they left for Diagon Alley.

A voice interrupted their reverie. "What's this? Someone seems to have forgotten about giving their wonderful dogfather his mandatory hug."

Rose laughed while running to the man. "Uncle Padfoot! I missed you so much!"

Sirius Black chuckled as he hugged Rose. "Your dear Uncle Paddy missed you too Rosebud. A very happy birthday to you. I can't believe you both are starting Hogwarts already. Merlin, you girls make me feel so old."

A snort came from the side. "That's because you are getting on in the years you mangy mutt."

"Aunty Marley!" Rose cried out as she rushed towards the woman and gave her a crushing hug.

"Let your Aunt Marley look at you dear." Her aunt Marlene McKinnon said as she broke the hug and lifted her face.

"Happy birthday, Rose! My word, you look just like your mother when she was 11. You both had the same excitement twinkling in those vivid green eyes of yours.

Bianca suddenly exclaimed. "Rosie! I need you to help me pick what to wear. We're going to Diagon Alley as Hogwarts students for the first time. I need to make a good impression. We'll also probably meet Neville there. I don't think he's gotten his supplies yet, as his birthday was yesterday."

Rose grabbed her hand and rushed her upstairs with a cry of "What are we waiting for?! Let's get you looking fresh and ready!"

As the girls went off to dig through Bianca's wardrobe, the adults sat in the living room, catching up with each other. Sirius was chatting with James about his work in the Hit-Wizard squadrons.

"I have to say Jamie. Ever since I made the switch from Auror to Hit-Wizard, it's like my entire work life balance has improved dramatically. I no longer need to go through mounds of paperwork to justify Stunning some scumbag, or deal with casualty notifications.

I get called onto a scene and given some instructions. We pop in, provide the muscle, and get sent home afterwards. I don't know why I never thought of it earlier. The family's also happier, now that I get home at a decent hour except on rare occasions."

James nodded. "Sounds like you've really found your groove in the Ministry, Siri. That's great to hear."

"You ever consider donning the red and black again, Jamie? Now that Rose is leaving for Hogwarts, there's no need for you and Lily to stay cooped up at home. I could use a partner. My current one is some arrogant young punk fresh out of the Academy."

James snorted. "Out of all the things you can accuse others of Padfoot, arrogance is not one of them."

"That's not fair, Prongs. You know I've gotten better ever since I settled down with Marlene." Sirius whined in protest.

James smiled thoughtfully. It was true. While it had come as a shock that the self-proclaimed eternal bachelor Sirius Black had settled down, he couldn't have made a better choice in his wife. Marlene McKinnon was a Pureblood witch from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight Pureblood families.

Her family's talent in wards were well-known across Britain. During the war, she was the one that laid down the wards that protected Order Headquarters and the various safe houses. She had taken on the role as their Wardbreaker.

This was because a popular technique for Death Eater raids was raising Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey wards to prevent innocents from escaping. With her help, several raids had been cut short as she broke the wards and allowed the Aurors to Apparate in and fight back.

They had been in hiding for months when they received news of the McKinnon family being slaughtered by the Death Eaters due to Marlene's involvement with the Order. Marlene had supposedly died in the massacre, and Sirius had confirmed it to them.

It had been a huge surprise at the end of the war when they saw Marlene alive and well, taking care of a baby girl. Sirius had been hexed into the next decade by Lily for making her think her best friend was dead. Learning about their marriage had come as another shock, but they saw how she brought out the best in Sirius and gave them their heartfelt congratulations.

Their daughter, Bianca Marlene Black, had grown up alongside Rose. They were practically sisters, sharing the same sense of kinship that he and Sirius had. He had been ecstatic at being named her godfather and took it upon himself to spoil her rotten. Sirius had retaliated by doing the same for Rose.

Now, those girls had them wrapped around their little fingers. Once they started pouting, he and Sirius never stood a chance. Due to their weakness, their wives had taken on the roles of disciplinarians, making sure that the girls understood the value of money and the good luck they had to be born into influential families.

It was a good thing they had done so, as the girls had grown up to be kind and appreciative of their situations. Not turning out like Lucius Malfoy's son was a blessing in disguise. If anything, their sympathy towards those of lesser means would have them diametrically opposed to the Dark families.

While their conversation veered towards Fudge's incompetence, Lily and Marlene were having a very different conversation.

"Marley, I'm so worried for her. She chose Hogwarts and while I trust her decision, it makes me scared to think that she'll be dealing with the sons of several prominent Death Eaters. What do you think we should do?"

Marlene looked pensive as she considered the circumstances. She had had the misfortune of meeting the Malfoy family during the swanky balls hosted by the Black family. Sirius' mother had been overjoyed at his choice of wife, specifically that she was a Pureblood. This had caused her to reinstate him back into the family.

Sirius�� grandfather Arcturus had met with them shortly after the war ended and spoke to him about making him Lord Black. With some persuasion from her, Sirius accepted Arcturus' request, but made it clear that he would redefine the Black family politically.

They had tried for more children after Bianca, but it looked like it wasn't meant to be. Sadly, without a male heir, the Black and McKinnon family legacies would end with the main line. At least if James and Lily had a son, Sirius might have been able to secure the lordship and keep it out of the hands of the Malfoys.

That hadn't been the case, and after Voldemort attacked Lily, she could never give birth again. This chain of events meant that once the girls reached 13, every person looking to climb the social ladder would be aiming to court them.

After all, their husbands would be guaranteed the lordships of the families as well as seats and votes on the Wizengamot. The fortunes also made them both targets for marriage contracts.

Looking up at Lily, she solemnly spoke. "I think it's time we educate them on the dangers of the Pureblood heirs and make sure they can keep each other safe."

Lily's eyes widened. "Already? Wouldn't teaching them so early in their Hogwarts years affect how they view and interact with boys their age? Do we want to instill such paranoia into them?"

"The Black family library has a whole compendium of books on protecting virtue. In fact, the Lady Blacks even created a special grimoire filled with handy spells for that specific purpose. Bianca will have to learn those spells anyway. If she and Rose learned a few now, I would feel much better by the time they left for Hogwarts."

"Then it looks like once they get their wands, we'll be spending the rest of the summer training them." Lily spoke with fierce determination.

Nodding to each other, they switched to lighter topics, trying to get their minds off the threats their daughters would face at Hogwarts.

Unbeknownst to the serious discussion going on downstairs, the two girls were standing in the eye of a hurricane of clothes. Various tops littered the bed and floor as they scavenged through the pile, picking up and trying on a couple of articles every now and then.

"Uggghhh! Bianca, we've been through your entire closet twice now. I think your best bet is the light blue sundress with the tan sandals."

"Those sandals make my feet look fat! I refuse to wear them!"

"Listen. Those sandals look amazing on you and go great with the dress. It gives off a whole beautiful warrior princess vibe. Like Wonder Woman."

"But I don't want to look like Wonder Woman! I want to look cute, not fierce. I don't want to scare off any cute boys."

Rose rolled her eyes at her best friend's antics. She had noticed boys a lot earlier than she had but was still quite clueless about love and relationships. Then again, she had learned through an accidental skim of one of her mother's trashy romance novel.

"You won't be scaring off any cute boys, though I don't think many will even notice in the first place. Boys our age aren't usually interested in girls yet. I don't understand why you're putting in so much effort."

Bianca pouted. "It's for the future. Boys our age may not notice, but the older ones will. That's what I'm aiming for."

Throwing up her hands in frustration, Rose cried out. "Okay already! You can wear another pair of footwear. Merlin, you're so picky."

"That's how you get the cutest boys to notice you, Rosie." She winked as she put on the blue sundress.

After debating for several minutes on the pair of footwear, Bianca settled for a pair of matching flats that she wore with no-show socks. After giving herself a once over in the mirror, she grabbed Rose and dragged her behind as she bounded down the stairs.

"Mum! Dad! Rose and I are ready to go to Diagon Alley!" Bianca yelled as they neared the living room.

Their parents came out of the living room. Sirius groaned when he saw his daughter all dressed up. "Oh Merlin, I think I have to break out the Hit-Wizard robes to keep the boys away from my beautiful little girl."

The adults and Rose laughed while Bianca glared at him.

They headed towards the chimney and threw in some Floo powder and calling out "The Leaky Cauldron!" and stepping into the blazing green fire.

They stepped out of the chimney into a dark pub. Tom, the bartender looked at them and called out. "Sirius Black! How are ya this fine mornin'?"

"I'm doing well, Tom. Just here to get school supplies for my dear daughter."

"Dear Merlin, is that little Bianca?! She's going to Hogwarts this year?! Can't believe it's been so long."

Sirius laughed. "I know, right? I never thought this day would creep up on me like this."

Turning to Bianca, Tom said "Congratulations, Bianca. I'm sure you're going to do very well at Hogwarts."

"Thank you, Tom. I can't wait for September 1st to arrive!"

Tom nodded as his eyes flickered over to the girl standing next to Bianca. She seemed familiar, but he couldn't tell who she was immediately, and that's when he saw it. The distinct, lightning bolt scar that was poking out from underneath her hair. He froze as he realized who she was.

"Bless my soul. Rose Potter?!" he whispered.

James and Lily felt the entire room still as all the patrons turned to get a good look at them.

Rose shrunk in on herself as she noticed everyone staring intensely at her. Her father put a comforting hand on her shoulder, which eased her anxiety. Taking a deep breath, she replied.

"Hi, Tom."

The moment she finished greeting him, pandemonium erupted. Several patrons burst out of their chairs and rushed over to her. She was overrun by well-wishers who started shaking her hand thanking her for killing Voldemort and stopping the war.

After a few minutes of interacting with the adoring public, her father and godfather made a hole in the crowd, guiding them through the back door. Once they were away from the chaos inside, they took a short breather before heading towards the entrance of the alley.

James stopped just short of the brick wall and turned around. "Alright you two. Now that you are officially getting your wands, you must remember this combination to get into Diagon Alley through this entrance. Watch me closely."

Taking out his wand, he tapped three bricks in an ascending motion and then tapped two bricks to the right. "The combination is three up, two across. The way to remember which brick to start with, is looking for the brick with a hole in the middle. The one right above that is the first brick you tap with you wand to start. Just skip a brick in between taps."

As he finished his explanation, the bricks in the wall had shifted, revealing a bustling street. Sellers hawked their wares on carts, signs advertising exotic potions ingredients and sales dotted the windows. Both Rose and Bianca had been to Diagon Alley on several occasions. However, there was something special about coming here as prospective Hogwarts students.

The group made their way to Madam Malkin's to get measured for their uniforms, as those would take the longest to get ready. As they entered the store, they were greeted by a squat witch dressed in mauve.

"Welcome to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions! I am Madam Malkin. How may I assist you today?"

Lily took the lead as she returned Madam Malkin's greeting. "Good morning, Madam Malkin. We're here to get my daughter and her cousin their Hogwarts uniforms."

Madam Malkin's eyes went wide before she exclaimed. "Lily Potter! What a lovely surprise, darling! You said your daughter needed robes for Hogwarts? Then this lovely little lady must be Rose, no?"

She walked over and started shaking Rose's hand. "A pleasure to meet you at last dear. You look so much like your mother!"

Rose smiled at the lady. She resembled an excited grandmother. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Madam Malkin. There was absolutely no other place we would go to get uniforms for Hogwarts."

Madam Malkin beamed at the compliment and ushered her to the platform. She flicked her wand, and a measuring tap, quill and parchment rushed out from the back and hovered right next to her.

With another flick, the measuring tape started taking Rose's measurements. As it was encircling the various parts of her body, the quill was in motion, recording the numbers. On Rose's right, was a boy she remembered very well from her family's first excursion to Diagon Alley after that horrible night that changed her life.

Draco Malfoy looked like he hadn't changed in the least. If anything, he seemed to have become even more of an arrogant ponce, if that was even possible. She desperately hoped that he wouldn't try to start a conversation, as she wanted to avoid talking to him as much as possible.

Sadly, the universe seemed to be conspiring against her.

"Hello. My name's Draco Malfoy. You going to Hogwarts too?" he asked her casually.

Rose closed her eyes in defeat. What did she do to deserve this on her birthday?

"Yes."

He nodded. "What house are you hoping to get into?"

"Probably Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. How about yourself?"

Draco's nose scrunched up, as if he had smelt something pungent. "Gryffindor? Why in Merlin's name would you want to be in the house of the stupid?"

Rose grit her teeth at the slight against her parent's old house. "Gryffindor is a perfectly good house to want to get into. Albus Dumbledore was a Gryffindor."

Draco snorted at her comment. "Everyone knows that the best house is Slytherin. Ravenclaw is for nerds and Hufflepuffs are the leftovers that couldn't get into any other house."

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw Madam Malkin bristle at that comment as she shot Malfoy a glare. "That's not a very nice thing to say. The Four Founders contributed equally to create Hogwarts and the houses they instituted are all noble."

"Whatever. Do you play Quidditch?" He seemed to have noticed the anger his words were causing, so he attempted to change the topic.

"Yes. I play both Chaser and Seeker." This was something Rose didn't mind talking about. Even if it was with Draco. She had inherited her father's passion for Quidditch.

The positions she played were both roles her father had played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He had always mentioned that he considered going pro straight out of school.

When she expressed interest in learning, she discovered the truth behind that statement. Her father was an extremely skilled Chaser, who could probably still go pro if he wanted to. His skills hadn't dulled in the slightest over the years, and she had become a formidable Chaser under his tutelage.

"Really? I play Seeker, and father says it would be a crime if I'm not picked for the Slytherin house team. First years aren't allowed brooms, but I'm pretty sure I could bully him into sneaking one in for me. He's on the Board of Governors, so he could make an exception."

Rose could feel a migraine coming on. The sheer arrogance and disrespect Draco showed in his comments was not winning him any points. She would much rather be anywhere else right now.

Looking back, she noticed Bianca settling into her "Heiress Black" persona. She often said it was the only way to tolerate dealing with the sons of Dark Pureblood families without resorting to hexes.

Madam Malkin came to her rescue at that moment. "There you go dear. You're all done. The robes will be ready for you in an hour's time."

Draco leapt off the platform. "I'll see you at Hogwarts."

Rose just nodded as she saw him stalk out of the shop. She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Bianca stepped up onto the platform Draco had vacated.

"I can't believe I'm related to that wanker. You know we're going to have to tolerate his existence for the next 7 years, right?"

Rose sighed. ���I'm not too worried. So long as we stay out of each other's way, we won't need to bother with him."

Bianca nodded and started talking about their classes to get their minds off their encounter with Draco. After a few more minutes of chatting, Madam Malkin finished taking their measurements while their mothers had gone through the various options for convenience charms and fabrics.

With their selections finalized, they went to get the other items on the list. Flourish and Blotts took up most of their time, as Rose eagerly bounced from shelf to shelf, picking up books in subjects that interested her.

Bianca took the time to tease her with the various children's books starring her. Rose Potter and the Terrible Troll, Rose Potter and the Ghastly Ghoul and a host of other alliterative titles. She flushed in embarrassment as she saw them. Her parents had tried to stop them from being published, but there was a whole market for Rose Potter paraphernalia.

Seeing as they couldn't prevent the dolls and books from being created, they shrewdly negotiated a contract for licensing her likeness. All the profits went into her personal vault and part of the proceeds were donated to multiple charities and St. Mungo's hospital.

With the amount of money being deposited monthly, she would never have to work for the rest of her life. In fact, even after she married, she wouldn't have any need to touch the funds stored in the Lady Potter vault. That was one thing she was happy about, as her future husband couldn't touch that vault, thus ensuring her financial independence.

Finishing up at Flourish and Blotts, they went and got a full set of potions equipment and ingredients, along with the necessary telescope for Astronomy. All that was left was the wand. This was the part that Rose was most excited about as she buzzed with energy. She was finally going to have her very own wand!

Their group stepped into the dilapidated old shop and looked around. Hundreds of rectangular cardboard boxes packed the shelves. One of the boxes was going to contain the wand that was hers.

Out of nowhere, they heard a raspy voice call out. "Good afternoon."

Both her and Bianca were taken by surprise and let out startled yelps. Their fathers broke down laughing at their reaction while their mothers giggled. Perhaps getting scared out of their skin was some sort of rite of passage?

An old man appeared out of nowhere in front of them. "Ahh Ms. Potter. I've been expecting you." Turning to Bianca he said "Ms. Black is here as well. I would have thought you would come to find your wand a month ago."

"I wanted to come and get mine with Rose, so I delayed my shopping." Bianca explained.

Ollivander smiled. "Such loyalty Ms. Black, Hufflepuff would sure be a great fit for you."

Rose grabbed Bianca in a one-armed hug. "We both know she's coming to Gryffindor with me."

Ollivander chuckled. "Well I guess we shall see. So, you two are here to find your partners. Which one will be going first?"

Rose pushed Bianca forward. Bianca tried to back out, but Rose insisted. "You put off your shopping for me all this time. It's only fair you get your wand first."

After much insisting, Bianca finally agreed to go first. It took a couple of tries before she was matched with a blackthorn and unicorn hair wand. It shot up several silver sparks when she first waved it, and made Rose look that much more excited about finding her own.

"Now for young Ms. Potter. Which is your wand hand?"

"I'm ambidextrous, Mr. Ollivander."

"Truly? I can already tell that you are going to be an interesting customer."

He waved his hand as a tape measure shot into action, measuring all sorts of weird areas of her arms and face. The width and length of her nose, the length of her right pinky finger. It was an interesting experience, to say the least.

"That's enough." Ollivander said from behind a shelf. The tape dropped instantly after he finished speaking. She heard a bit of rustling before he approached the counter with five different boxes in hand.

"Let us try across a wide spectrum and narrow down what works for you. How about we start with this one. 10 and ¾ inches, Vinewood and Unicorn hair, swishy."

He handed her the wand grip first. As she took hold of the wand, she waited for something to happen, but nothing did. Almost immediately, it was snatched out of her hand. "I guess that was not a match. How about this? 9 inches, Maple and Dragon heartstring, flexible and powerful."

She tried that next wand and only got a weak reaction before it too was taken back. This pattern continued for nearly 20 minutes as Ollivander made trip after trip through the maze of shelves. Around the 20th wand, Rose started getting worried. Would she even find her wand at this rate?

Ollivander seemed to be acting the opposite of what she expected. Instead of frustration, there was a childlike glee on his face as she tried more wands. "Just as I suspected Ms. Potter. You are a tricky customer. I wonder…" he drifted off as his eyes gained a thousand-yard stare.

After a couple of seconds, his eyes shifted to her and looked excited at something. "Perhaps that one will work." He walked to the very back of the store and started rummaging around while they all waited anxiously.

She didn't know how much time had passed before she heard footsteps approaching the front. Ollivander exited from in between the shelves with a very old box in his hands. It looked weathered and slightly chipped. A sharp distinction from the perfectly preserved boxes on the shelves.

"Try this one, Ms. Potter. I have a good feeling about it. 11 and ¼ inches, Holly and Phoenix feather, nice and supple." He handed her the wand and as she grasped the handle, she felt something click within her.

A burst of multicolored sparks shot out of the wand as a strong wind breezed through the store. This was it. She had found her wand.

"Curious. Very curious." She heard Ollivander mutter as he stared at her.

"What's curious, Mr. Ollivander?"

His piercing gaze flickered over to her parents before settling back on her. "I have crafted many wands, Ms. Potter. Ever since I took over the store from my father nearly 60 years ago, I have created thousands of wands and matched them with their destined witch or wizard.

Most of the cores that I've procured throughout the years have been matched to their partners quickly. In fact, in my entire wand collection, less than five have cores that are older than 10 years.

It's always a treat for me to match a customer with one of my older wands, as most who receive them go on and do great things. However, such instances are exceedingly rare. In fact, the last time this occurred was exactly a year ago to the day in Paris."

Rose found that weird. "Paris? What happened in Paris?"

Ollivander grinned. "I remember it like it was yesterday. I was staying at a friend's store in Place Cachee, the French magical shopping district. A boy walked in and had trouble locating a suitable wand among my friend's stock. I offered my assistance and was surprised by the results.

Such an exceptional young man. He matched with a core that I had been holding onto for more than a decade. By far it was the second oldest core in my inventory. Such a mysterious one at that. He started his journey to greatness last year at the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

I mentioned that story because the core in your wand is the oldest out of all the wands I've made. The phoenix that donated the tail feather that sits within your wand gave just one other. I used it to create another wand made of yew, that matched with a boy who went to Hogwarts almost 50 years ago.

It is curious that you are destined to wield this wand, when it's brother, gave you that scar." He finished ominously as he pointed towards her trademark lightning bold scar above her right eye.

He must have seen the horrified expression on her face as he solemnly continued. "Yes. 13 and ½ inches. Yew. If I had known what that wand was going out into the world to do…" He paused as his words sank in.

"I think we can expect great things from you, Ms. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named also did great things. Terrible things, yes. But great!"

Rose felt like his milky white eyes were staring through her soul. Never had she felt such dread. She had matched with the brother wand of Voldemort's. A part of her wanted to drop the wand and ask for another, but the other part refused to let go of it.

She was so confused and scared that she didn't even notice her mother's hand on her shoulder. Turning to her, she saw the strained smile on her face. Her mother pulled her into a hug as she trembled.

Without another word, her father paid the 7 Galleons for her wand and they all left the store in a depressed mood. Nobody said a word to her as they got their uniforms and went back home.

In the evening, her parents approached her to try and cheer her up.

"Sweetie, your wand is your wand. The connection to Voldemort's doesn't matter. You will be a great witch regardless."

Her father nodded. "Exactly darling. This doesn't change anything. Your wand does not define you."

Rose felt better with her parents support, but the fact that such a connection existed was gnawing at her. She went to bed worried about the future, only for her worries to be replaced with righteous anger after hours of brooding.

So, what if her wand shared a connection to Voldemort's?! That didn't mean anything. She was a good person, unlike that monster. Her parents were right. Her actions would define her, not her wand. She was the Girl-Who-Lived, but once she started Hogwarts, that would change.

She would show the world that she was Rose Potter, a powerful and great witch of her generation. With this promise, she drifted off to sleep, eager to begin her own journey to greatness.