Disclaimer: Rose Potter is mine, that's about it. The characters in Final Fantasy VII belong to Square Enix for games, Tetsuya Nomura, Takeshi Nozue, Yusuke Naora, Yoshinori Kitase and Shinji Hashimoto for Advent Children. The universe of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

WARNING: this story will have a lot of mature content, featuring sex and rape of a child (that part will probably never be too detailed, more likely summarized), so be warned ! If you don't like those subjects, or, God forbid, have been a victim yourself, please go read something else. Thanks you.

Author: Fumseck73

Beta Translator: Dragonqueen909 (English)

Prologue: Mysterious Dreams

Rose had always known she was different. Not necessarily the way her "family" said it, though. They hated anything that didn't fit their definition of "normal"... and that included magic. They had abused her since the first day she had landed in their home, making her responsible for everything that went wrong in their lives, using her to let off steam.

When she learned she was a witch, she felt some relief. Because it explained the bizarre phenomenons that were happening around her. It didn't explain the dreams, though. Dreams of silver and ice, red and fire, and black and plants. They were never clear anyway, and she resigned herself to never having answers.

What she didn't know was that fate sometimes had a very strange way of working... especially when old manipulative goats decided to get involved "for the Greater Good".

oOo

Rose Iris Potter, aka the Girl-Who-Lived, aka Freak for her "loving" family, or Rose, or "Pup" for her godfather, was in a foul mood. As if what she experienced at school or in her "home" wasn't enough, the fact that her soul had been almost devoured by a Dementor had caused the awakening of memories of her previous life. And hell, she wanted to insult the Norns, or whoever was responsible for the fact that she was reincarnated as the female version of HARRY POTTER. The only problem was that there was a gap in her memory between the moment she remembered seeing the truck go out of control and rushing towards her, and the one where she remembered her parents' death in this life. If someone was actually responsible for her situation... he or she had clearly covered their tracks.

She sank into her bed with a sigh. Ron was apparently more or less in shock, Hermione had fallen asleep, and she... she just couldn't fall asleep, her nerves still strained tight like guitar strings. At the same time, she had spent the year having nightmares about her parent's death, especially when the memory had become clearer because of her training with Professor Lupin's Boggart.

Rose frowned thinking of him. She would have to find a way around the plans of this old goat Dumbledore... because she was sure that he had done everything for her to be isolated and depended on a few carefully chosen people for everything that concerned the wizarding world. All these fanfictions she had read in her previous life didn't really help her to trust the old wizard. She was going to have to find a way to get to Gringotts, she thought, grumbling, turning to her side again. If only she could sleep a little... she was so exhausted.

oOo

Silence reigned in the plain. One that stretched out as far as the eye could see, and was covered with a vigorous grass, in which grew what looked like yellow and white lilies, but which would have had only one flower at the end of their stem. The sky was the strangest, composed of luminous filaments of a pale green, around which floated small luminous points.

Rose didn't mind this place, even if she didn't know why she was dreaming about it. It was always better than nightmares. On the other hand, the voice that rose suddenly from her back made her jump with surprise.

"Strange place."

The voice was clearly male and she realized that this was what she believed to be an inanimate support in her back. She blinked, surprised, realizing he was talking to her perhaps. Shrugging, she decided to answer.

"Personally, I like it. It's always better than my nightmares."

Her interlocutor stiffened, obviously surprised, and clearly not expecting someone to answer him. She held back a desire to snicker, not wanting to upset him. Obviously, he had spoken to himself.

"You didn't expect to be answered, were you?" She asked without hiding her amusement.

There was a moment of hesitation, and the man behind her spoke again. He gave her the impression of being older than her, both because of his voice and size... although it wasn't difficult on this point, "thanks" to her family. In any case, he was able to quickly recover.

"Not really, no. Who are you?"

"**** ******."

"Sorry?" He asked, obviously surprised.

Rose blinked repeatedly, equally puzzled. When she gave her name... all she had heard was a scrambled sound, like when Zangetsu introduced himself to Ichigo in Bleach. What the...? She tried several times to give her name, to always have the same result. She let out an annoyed sigh, even as her interlocutor gave the impression of snickering softly behind her back, if the shaking she felt were of any indication.

"Why don't you try it?" She asked finally, exasperated.

He snorted with amusement before answering her.

"*********."

It was her turn to snicker, and she didn't even try to hide it.

"Very funny, really," he said in a somewhat sarcastic tone after several attempts like her.

She shrugged in response.

"You'll excuse me, but I had very little occasions to laugh this year," Rose explained once she had regained her seriousness. "So I do with what I can."

"Bad year?" He asked, his tone not devoid of some compassion.

He knew the problem. His days were at best loaded, and at worst he didn't know where to turn. And that was without counting when the Puppy decided to go nuts. He understood better why some people were talking about tearing their hair out. His interlocutor seemed very young to have such problems, however, if he trusted what he had observed. She sighed in response.

"I was entitled to demons that bring up your worst memories on the surface," she replied darkly.

"These kind of creatures exist?" He asked, disgusted.

He had never heard of it, but he didn't doubt that it could exist somewhere. After all, new species were discovered every day... or the lunatic leading the scientific department created them. The girl... or teenager, perhaps, if he trusted her voice, sighed.

"Unfortunately yes. I don't know why no one has tried to exterminate them yet," she grumbled. "It's not because they are supposedly good prison guards that it is a good reason to continue to support them."

"Guards?" He asked, horrified, hearing that. "People use them as guards? With the effect they apparently have on humans?"

Rose answered with a bitter laugh.

"The prisoners are locked up on a small island... but the walls or the sea are not really necessary, because the prisoners are literally locked inside their own head. Most... lose their mind fast, and few survive very long. Since this island is used as a prison, there has been almost no escape."

"And what memory do they bring back for you? If you don't mind talking about it," he added, remembering those conversations with his friends about what was acceptable to say or not to say to strangers. "I don't want to force you."

Rose was silent for a moment, thinking about how to answer. She could hardly talk about her death in her previous life, dream or not. She decided to talk about the least "risky" subject in a way.

"The murder of my parents," she answered simply. "They were killed before my eyes when I was little. And with my childhood... those things are particularly attracted to me."

He shook his head in reply, grieved for her in a way. He hadn't known his mother, and as for his father... the less he thinks about him, the better he was. He knew that his friends sometimes had conflicting relationships with their families... but that, despite everything, they wouldn't part with them if they could.

"How old were you, to remember?" He asked softly.

"Fifteen months. And yes, I'm aware that normally, I shouldn't be able to remember it. Except that the trauma left traces in my memory. Enough for these horrors to bring back this memory in particular. I haven't stopped having nightmares all year long on this subject because of them."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, feeling as if he had been much too curious.

Rose snorted in response.

"You aren't responsible for their death, as far as I know. And I don't really remember them, other than this fragment of memory. You have nothing to do with it," she said with a sigh, rubbing her face. "And I still prefer to talk with you rather than have nightmares about their death."

"I can imagine," he said softly in response. "I guess... considering my life so far, I would probably be subject to the same problems as you."

She chuckled with some bitterness

"You must also know that I lose consciousness when they come near me, and that I can't cast the spell to protect myself. Or I have a hard time doing it. It almost cost me my life," she mumbled. "Fortunately this old goat saved my skin."

He frowned when he heard that. She sounded too young to have such problems. She sounded... like him. Bitter and disillusioned, even if she didn't necessarily show it, like him. He dared not turn around to talk to her, though. Something... told him that if he did... the dream would stop.

Rose didn't know it, but she shared the same thoughts as her interlocutor. She didn't have to turn to distinguish anything from him. She could feel something long and thin falling behind her, between their backs, which seems very much like hair. And, further on, something that looked like an arm, dressed in black leather.

With a tacit agreement, both refrained from trying to get a better glimpse of each other, and continued talking about everything and nothing as long as the dream continued. He was no better at it than that, but giving little clues about their respective lives was possible. No name, however, any attempt to talk about it was apparently blocked by the force that allowed them to communicate as well.

oOo

He brutally slammed his hand on his alarm clock, the strident sound waking him with a start and putting him in a foul mood. Normally, he always woke up before the alarm, the latter only being there in case. It was the first time he didn't wake up first.

He groaned, however, realizing he had hit the clock hard enough to demolish it. That meant he would have to request another. The whole problem... was that it had been years since this kind of thing had happened to him. So to ask for a new one will bring questions that he would have difficulty answering. To say that it was because it was the first pleasant dream he had in years had been interrupted by his alarm? He may have been socially disabled, but not so much. Although it was still a strange dream.

Usually, when he didn't dream of laboratories (and how many nightmares he had about them)... he dreamed of a flower. He had never been too interested in botany, so he didn't know the name of it, but his dreams had started when he was a child... maybe about three or four years old? The petals were jet black, and the leaves bright green, darker than his own eyes.

At first, the flower was closed, as are certain flowers at night. And then... the more time that passed, the more the flower had seemed... sick? In any case, it had begun to wither very quickly in his memories. Sometimes, he had been able to give it strength, but he had never really managed to understand how. And the symbols that were engraved on the leaves made him want to find the person responsible... and to massacre them. He couldn't read them... but he instinctively felt they were not good for the flower. And yet... it continued to... keep its head up? In any case, it was the impression he had. It had begun to open in recent years, despite its sickly state. Because, despite that... it seemed to... prosper? How?

He forced himself to keep calm, thinking back to a dream he had made last year or two years ago. The flower... he didn't know what had happened to it, but the flower had started to... keen? She had in any case made cries of pain (and how much he was familiar with this sound...), and the petals had been shredded, letting out blood. He still remembered his icy fury when he woke up. Even the lunatic from the science department had left him alone even though he had an appointment that day. One of the few mercies of the universe. He had to kill dragons repeatedly in a VR room for several hours before feeling calm enough to face the world. Unfortunately... he had also seriously damaged it, putting it out of service for almost two weeks. Luckily, no one had approached him that day other than his friends, and they had mostly left him in peace, simply offering him their silent presence in support.

With a sigh, he got up and started to get ready for the day. At least... despite the brutal awakening, his dream had put him in a better mood than he would have been after a day spent in the labs.

oOo

Rose awoke with a start, cursing the shrill sound that had cut the dream. Well, in the end, she had at least had a better night than she expected after saving Sirius from all those Dementors. It was always that.

Now, it was a question of surviving the summer after being sent to her jailers. Joy. With a sigh, she stood up, running her hand through her hair in a vain attempt to flatten them. As usual, it failed, and she resigned herself to having her hair looking like a bird's nest.

Thoughtfully, she wondered if she could find help from the Goblins to protect her mind. Rose didn't want Dumbledork (as she decided to call him in her mind) to find that she was a reincarnation from another world and knew pretty much what would happen in the future... as well as his machinations concerning her. And protecting her mind from Voldemort was also very attractive... but perhaps impossible given the link they shared. At least she was pretty sure it was one way, from him to her, and only when he felt violent emotions. Rose shivered at that. The idea of getting a glimpse of Voldemort's thoughts was absolutely terrifying, even knowing what to expect.

Now... how to convince Remus to accept help? She wondered while getting dressed. It was going to be hard to convince him to accept without feeling like he was getting charity... or going to see Dumbledork. She really wanted to avoid alerting this old goat.

Rose let out a sigh. Strategy had never been her strong point in her previous life, and even in this one, it was complicated. She decided to go see the Goblins as soon as she could. And maybe even take Dobby in her service, just in case. The whole problem would be to convince Hermione not to burst a cable. She frowned, wondering if Dumbledork wasn't by chance responsible for her behavior change in the coming year. Hermione's obsession with... freeing the house elves was extreme, and, from what she remembered reading in the books, barely scratched the surface of the subject. She hadn't even talked to a house elf outside of Dobby and Winky, and barely!

Would Dumbledork have used spells to... alter or tamper with her friend's behavior?

Rose resolved to ask for amulets to protect people from this kind of things to the Goblins, if they knew how to make them or where to buy them without anyone asking questions.

oOo

Rose had to fight frustration after talking with Remus. It had taken her half an hour to convince him not to go to Dumbledork. And for the rest... so much as talking to a wall. She began to suspect that he too was under the influence of spells altering his judgment. So that meant an amulet for him too... and, for that matter, one for Sirius too, you never know.

With a sigh, she rubbed her temples. Her life was even more complicated than she would have thought when she woke up. At least Ginny was not a fangirl so obsessed with her that she wanted to marry her. And if she could kill Ron's jealousy in the bud... maybe next year would be more bearable. Rose took note, however, of looking for different forms of magical oath. So as to not being treated as an outcast throughout the year... and if she could manage to save Cedric, it would be even better.

With another sigh, she collapsed on the covers. At least she knew where all that bastard Voldemort's Horcruxes were. She made a mental note of talking to the Goblins about it. We never knew, maybe they could do something for the one she had in her head, she thought, frowning, rubbing her scar. Let's hope it's safer than Basilisk's venom, Rose thought as she shuddered, thinking back to the giant snake. She was not sure anything could be worse than that or a dragon.

Shaking her head, she changed quickly, responding distractedly to Hermione when she asked her what Remus would do in the future, and what kind of teacher they would have next year. Rose could hardly say that it would be a Death Eater escaped from Azkaban thanks to his father, so she said she had no idea. Pulling the draperies around her bed, she cast a silencing charm on it. The problem with Parvati and Lavander was that they were talking in their sleep... and sometimes had conversations while sleeping! She had found it funny the first time... before getting tired and looking for a way to block it.

Sighing, she slipped under the covers, turning to one side. She had always struggled to fall asleep because of the Dursleys, but now she was waiting for sleep almost impatiently. Because his dream with this stranger... had been nice. He had clearly noticed that she was younger than him, yes, but had not commented on it. He had treated her like an adult... and it was refreshing after the condescending way Dumbledork treated her. Oh, he was hiding his game well, but... we felt he only saw her as a pawn to be sacrificed. Too bad for him, the sacrificial lamb had no intention of accepting very nicely to go to the slaughterhouse.

Turning to the side, she let herself slowly slip into sleep. This stranger... she would have to find him a nickname. Something to do with the ice perhaps? She remembered having smell ice, like the Black Lake in winter, and leather in the dream. Something related to that... she thought as she fell asleep.

oOo

Rose blinked, a little surprised. The dream... was different from last night. The landscape was the same, as well as the fact that she was back to someone, but everything else was different. This time... it was a smell of apples and firewood floating in the atmosphere. The person to whom she was leaning on was different too. It was subtle, and she would have been unable to say how it was different, but she felt it. The voice of his companion rose in the air, his inflections as soft and graceful as those of a poet:

"Lovely landscape... but why am I here?"

Rose chuckled, startling him in surprise.

"That's the million-dollar question, my good sir. Personally, I do not try to understand. Always more pleasant than my nightmares."

His interlocutor remained silent, before moving, as if he wanted to turn around, and Rose stopped him immediately.

"If I were you, I would avoid doing that. I'm pretty sure that would interrupt the... dream? Our discussion anyway."

The man stopped, before speaking again, sounding skeptical:

"How do you know?"

Her laugh was bitter this time.

"Instinct, I would say. I learned to follow it, even though I have no survival instinct. And I feel... that if one of us turns around, our... encounter will stop. Still, it's not the desire I miss to see what you look like."

"Interested?" He asked, sounding almost amused. "You seem a little young for that, though."

Rose rolled her eyes.

"You make me think of my defense professor last year when you say that. Except that he was an incompetent moron."

His interlocutor let out an outraged sound, visibly offended.

"I feel insulted to be compared to an incompetent! I am too fabulous for that! And most importantly, I'm not incompetent!"

"I hope for you," replied Rose with amusement.

"Why do you call him incompetent, by the way?" He asked, sounding sincerely intrigued.

Rose rolled her eyes in front of this drama queen. At least he looked competent, not like Lockhart.

"That idiot was good at one thing only, to question his victims to know exactly what they had done... before erasing their memory and claiming their exploits for himself. Playing peacocks, that he knew how to do too. On the other hand, act, nada. He actually tried to run away when I and a friend of mine went to see him, to try to get his help with our little snake problem that was wandering around the school."

"Little snake problem?" He asked in a half-amused, half-perplexed tone. "Why do I feel it's more serious than that?"

"Considering the fact that the snake in question had to exceed 30 meters... yes, rather. And yet, I didn't have time to take its measurements, I was a little too busy trying not to be eaten."

There was a blank for a few seconds, then he spoke again, sounding incredulous.

"You had a ****** ***** in your school?! But how did it get there?"

"I could not understand the name you gave, but from what I know, this damn ******** was there since the foundation of my school, about a millennium ago."

He was speechless, dumbfounded. Not because of the fact that the names are blocked, but because of the fact that a giant snake had apparently wandered through a school full of children... and especially that it would have had a life expectancy of almost a millennium.

"And there were no deaths?" He asked with some concern in his voice.

"Not this time. There was a person who died about fifty years ago... and she still haunts the bathroom where she died, by the way. That said, it's a good place to plot, since no one wants to go there," Rose said with some amusement. "Fortunately, it was as far as I know the only representative of its species currently alive, and now that I killed that damn giant snake, there is no other. Normally. On the other hand, its carcass must be worth its weight in gold, it will be necessary that I inquire to sell it."

"Materialist?" He asked, sarcastically.

"You can never know what the future may hold for you," she said quickly. "And most of all... I may come from a family that is old money... I have bad feelings about my finances."

He frowned.

"Do you have no family?"

Rose sighed in response.

"My parents... were murdered before my eyes when I was a baby. The people I live with... didn't want me, or what I represent. If I could, I would abandon them willingly to their fate."

"But you don't do it," he remarked. "Why?"

"An old goat who decided to control my life," she replied bitterly. "My godfather... the person who should have taken care of me if something happened to my parents... spent a fucking decade in prison for a crime he didn't commit!" She exclaimed angrily. "The worst thing is that the person responsible for this crime lived the life of pasha all this time, before fleeing when he was exposed! The day I'm going to get my hands on him, I'd be happy to ask for him to have my godfather old cell! The latter had to escape from prison to try to protect me!"

His interlocutor shuddered at her vindictive tone... although he could vaguely understand it. To spend a decade in prison for a crime that we had not committed... it was a horrible idea. And she said he escaped? How?

"Your godfather... escaped?" He asked, puzzled. "How? And why?"

Rose sighed in response. She couldn't possibly say that he was an illegal Animagus.

"The... guardians of the prison where he was locked up... are demons, literally, and blind. So he took advantage of that to escape... and swim to the shore, because yes, the prison is located on an island in the sea. And you know the best?"

"No?" He asked with some hesitation.

"My godfather, the traitor who sold my parents and my defense teacher this year were friends!" She exclaimed angrily. "They formed a small group of friends at school, who had sworn to always be there for each other. Except that this fucking traitor betrayed my parents by leading to them a terrorist who was after my fucking skin! They died trying to protect me!"

His interlocutor blinked, shocked, hearing that. Her parents... had been murdered in front of her? In trying to protect her? A terrorist was after them? Or, rather, after her, from what she said?

"How old were you?" He asked with astonishment and perplexity. "And why did he wanted to kill you?"

Rose snorted with irony.

"Fifteen months. And this fool has heard a "prophecy" predicting that I might be able to defeat him. And this nutcase decided to come and kill me when I was a baby, because he cannot stand the competition!"

He shook his head, disgusted.

"Some are crazy," he says with some bitterness. "To pick on a baby? But what kind of madman do that?"

Rose chuckled with bitterness.

"The kind that is so terrified of death that he prefers to tear his soul apart for "immortality", or, in any case, a form of it."

He snorted sarcastically.

"Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul," he murmured to himself more than anything else. "Nothing is immortal. And what idea of mutilating his soul like that?"

Rose shrugged in response.

"He's crazy, what do you want. And he is after my skin, unfortunately. This freak is a particularly bad loser. He tried to kill me at fifteen months old, when I was eleven years old by possessing one of my teachers and last year via a diary, and I know he's going to start again next year. I don't intend to make it easy for him, but with the old goat who serves me as Headmaster, it's not easy."

"Why?"

"Because this old bastard has decided to make me a martyr. Every time I asked him to help, or why this freak was after me, he sent me to bed like a little child, without telling me. He doesn't want me to train to defend myself, because I'm "too young for that". Hey oh! I have a psychopath after my ass, who wants me dead! If possible in horrible agony!"

He frowned.

"This old man has a serious problem, obviously."

"No, you don't say?" She asked, sarcasm dripping in her voice. "And of course, I'm not entitled to help when I have problems! I have to settle everything alone, or almost! My friends have all the trouble in the world to stay with me to help me, and yet it's not for lack of trying!"

"At least you have loyal friends," he remarked.

"Yes. Even if one would need to distance herself a little from books. They are written by humans, and can lie too. As for the other... well he needs a slap to get his ideas back in place and calm his morbid jealousy."

"Why?" He asked, frowning.

"He is jealous of me for the wrong reasons... and I am also jealous of him, even if not for the same reasons. They may be healthier, but…"

"But?" He asked softly, far from his usual flamboyant side.

"He's jealous of me because I'm famous for supposedly defeating the terrorist who murdered my parents," she said bitterly. "Me... I'm jealous that he has a real family. Money doesn't mean much to me. I would give all the gold I have at the bank for a chance to have my parents. But I have a hard time driving it through his thick skull. Being a hero is not great; on the contrary. Everyone expects so much of you that you just cannot make everyone happy. And what do you get in the end? Nothing, if not loneliness. You really have to like the crappy ends to want to be a hero."

Outraged, her interlocutor started to turn around to protest against this pessimistic vision of his own dream...

oOo

To suddenly fall from his bed, banging his head against his bedside table. With tears in his eyes from the pain, he took several seconds to realize that he was in his room… and that what had just happened was a dream. With an exasperated growl, he straightened up, getting back on the bed properly. Rubbing his forehead, he frowned, reflecting on this strange dream.

Since as far back as he could remember… he dreamed of a flower. However… despite all his research, he had never found out what species it was. The petals were jet black, and the leaves bright green.

At first, the flower was closed, as are some flowers at night, or like when still in bud. And then, the more time had passed… the more the flower had seemed… sick? In any case, it had begun to wither very quickly in his memories.

Sometimes… he remembered that it had found itself with snow on it, seeming to curl up under the cold. When it happened at the beginning… he had tried to take it against him to warm it up. He had blessed the day he had found a way to make fire around it. Whenever he saw the cold begin to affect it in his dreams, he was eager to warm it up as best he could. The symbols that were engraved on the leaves, on the other hand… they made him want to find the person responsible… and to burn them alive. He couldn't decipher them (and yet it wasn't for lack of searching…), but he felt instinctively that they were just not good for the flower.

And yet… it continued to... refuse to let itself be defeated? In any case, it was the impression he had. It had begun to open in recent years, despite its sickly state. And despite that… it seemed… to hold on? How?

His train of thought brought him to the dream he had just made. Strangely… this girl with whom he had just spoken in this dream… made him think of this flower. Weakened, bitter… but refusing to give up. Despite the obstacles she faced.

The only thing that actually caused him any real problem… was this pessimistic view of the hero status she seemed to have. And the worst thing was that she seemed to speak from experience. As if she lived it. For what reasons? And above all… how did a child know or think about this stuff? He fought the urge to set fire to his bedroom, remembering a dream he had made last year or two years ago. The flower… he didn't know what had happened to it, but it had started to… keen? It had in any case made cries of pain (and how he had a presentiment that something terrible had happened…), and the petals had been like… torn, letting out a liquid identical to blood. He still remembered his state of hot fury when he woke up.

No one had dared to approach him that day, even more than usual, especially since he had charred the coffee machine upstairs after it swallowed his change without giving him his usual coffee. He had need to carbonize monsters repeatedly in a VR room for several hours before feeling calm enough to face the world. His childhood friend was the only one who was brave enough to approach him that day when he was even more… explosive than normal. He had literally fumed with rage for a good part of the day, even after venting into the VR room until it was charred enough to put it out of order for several days. He still remembered the group of soldiers and cadets he had met. The latter had literally pissed themselves in terror, especially when they saw the heat waves emanating from him, and the fact that he had carbonized everything he had touched. One of the soldiers had to be sent to the infirmary after he had the misfortune to ask him why he had spoken of a bleeding flower. A flower doesn't bleed! He had said. Before screaming in terror when the anger of the pyroman had focused on him, eager to find a target on which to let off steam. Enhancements or not, there were limits to what a human body could support. And let's say he didn't hold back on the power of his fireballs. Despite being a little tired of having charred the VR room, he had literally found a new breath when it came to venting on this poor soldier. It didn't help his reputation, though. But he didn't care.

Glancing at his clock, he groaned realizing it was still the middle of the night. Much too early to get up. With an annoyed sigh, he lay back down, returning under the covers. They had an important mission the next day, and he had a reputation to keep. He may have been an inveterate pyroman... but he couldn't be blamed for botching his duties. Even the most boring ones.

oOo

Rose awoke with a start, and couldn't help but curse the idiot of her dream. He had to try to turn around! Groping for her wand and watch, she murmured a Lumos to see the time. Before groaning. Barely three in the morning. Which meant one or more nightmares in perspective if she could get back to sleep. But she needed to sleep. Luckily, the classes are finished, she thought with frustration. At least she didn't have to fear for her notes.

With an annoyed growl, she set her watch and her wand down after whispering Nox to turn off the light. She got back to bed, trying to get back to sleep. Not easy, with her life and the Dementors who had harassed her this year.

Rose was right to think that the rest of the night would be agitated. It was even a euphemism. She spent the rest of it waking up every five minutes (or at least that was her impression) because of nightmares about her parents' death or hers.

She had huge bags under her eyes the next morning, but managed to chalk it up to a remnant of the Dementors' effects to the other occupants of the dormitory. Only Hermione looked a little skeptical, but luckily she said nothing. Rose, however, declined the offer of Parvati and Lavander to hide her dark circles. Even in her previous life, she hated makeup. So in this one…

She managed more or less to survive her day, although she would have been unable to say how later. All she remembered was taking a nap that day during the Divination class. She had been more awake after that, but she was waiting impatiently for the evening. As Ron had noticed, nothing was worth your bed to sleep. Especially since the Divination classroom was stifling, and only fatigue had allowed her to fall asleep. Luckily, Ron had distracted Trelawney when she tried to talk to Rose, and Rose was immensely grateful to her friend, promising herself to offer him something good as soon as she could.

She greeted her bed happily, falling on the mattress with an exhausted sigh. In other times, she would have made a comparison with a whale. Except that it would be like comparing to her obese uncle. Rose shuddered thinking about him, burying some memories deep in her mind. At least, with Sirius, she should have peace this year.

Putting on her pajamas, she crawled under the covers, forming a large, shapeless mass. She still took the trouble to close the draperies and cast a silencing spell on them. She didn't know who she would dream of tonight... considering that she had been dreaming of different people for two nights in a row. And what could be the meaning of her dreams? In any case, she hoped that if it fell again on Mr Apple and Smoke, he would refrain from turning to try to see her.

She slipped into sleep without even realizing it, too exhausted by her horrible night.

oOo

Far away, an old man was watching the scene with a certain amusement, his ruby eyes glittering with humor and a certain joy at what was happening. He didn't doubt that he would probably be cursed if ever his role in this story came to be known, but... he was getting too much fun watching the plans of another old man falling apart little by little. Keeping the connection open didn't require much effort, and he had to admit to enjoying seeing fate change before his eyes. After all… these three brothers had been his only successful apprentices… even though one could argue on this last point. After all… the mental health of his apprentices was generally debatable when he was done with them.

Chuckling softly, he turned his attention to other events, respecting the privacy of the people he had put in contact. Whatever you say about him… he wasn't a voyeur. A troll, yes. But a voyeur? Certainly not. And it was fun to keep some mystery.

oOo

"Again?" Rose groaned, exasperated.

Once again, the flowery plain was spreading around her… and again, she was with a different person. When will this stop? This time… it was a smell of earth and plants floating in the air. And the back against which she was leaning on was wide and solid, even more so than the other two. The person in question spoke in turn, looking embarrassed.

"Again? What do you mean by that?" He asked hesitantly, seeming to realize her mood.

Rose let out a sigh in response. He didn't have to endure her bad mood after all, he was certainly not at fault for anything more than her.

"Sorry," she said more calmly. "It's just that for two nights… I've been having this dream, but never twice with the same person. You're just the third one I'm talking to… and whose identity I don't know."

He blinked in surprise before speaking again.

"My name is ****** ******, what about you?" He said, before blinking in disbelief as Rose burst out laughing.

"Sorry," she said when she was able to resume her seriousness. "But the names, whether of species or our own names, are apparently blocked. And if you turn around, it will interrupt the dream. I was able to verify it last night."

"So… impossible to give our names?" He asked, perplexed and a bit annoyed in front of it. "And a nickname?"

Rose tilted her head thoughtfully. The idea had merit, indeed. Why not try?

"And what kind of nickname would you give me?" She asked, curious.

He didn't seem to be the type to give her a ridiculous name, from what she felt. She had an impression… of honor coming from him. The latter tilted his head thoughtfully, thinking. His interlocutor seemed to him… quite young, from what he heard and felt on his back. And the air… smelled like a flower. Not one he knew, however, but a sweet smell of flowers.

After a few minutes of reflection, he ends up proposing something:

"Something like… Little Flower?" He said, a little hesitantly.

Rose blinked, before giggling, amused.

"Adapted," she said, unable to keep a smile out of her voice, "since my first names refer to flowers."

A smile escaped him in turn. It had taken him less time to find a nickname for this hyperactive kid he had decided to take under his wing, but everyone had adopted it immediately, so much it was adapted. Between his hyperactive character and his attention as limited as that of a puppy… the nickname was just perfect. And the one he had found for this young teenager… was just as perfect. He was quite annoyed that he couldn't get her real name, but the nickname was adorable and respectful enough. Taking the floor, his grave and steady voice echoed softly in this strange place.

"And what nickname would you give me?" He asked, sincerely curious.

Rose cocked her head sideways in turn pensive. She wasn't really good at giving nicknames to people, and even in her games, the names given to characters or critters (or Pokémons), or those of her horses, were not necessarily terrible. She scrolled through possible names in her head, trying to find some in relation to the smells that floated in the air. Earth and plants mainly, with a mineral background, like stones. Terra? No, she thought, shaking her head. He had nothing to do with the character of Kingdom Hearts. Golem? She winced. It was already better, but not yet adapted. Finally, a name emerged from all those she thought of. Groot. The name of the humanoid plant in the Guardians of the Galaxy. The character was pretty ridiculous in itself, the little she had seen of the movie (she had never looked more than the beginning before dying), but with the smell of plants... it was the one that hit her the more. By the way… why had it ended up as a baby potted plant in the end?

Finally, she realized that her companion was patiently waiting for an answer, and recovered. She had digressed enough like that.

"Groot?" She suggested hesitantly.

"Groot?" He repeated, perplexed. "Is there a reason for that?"

"Well," she said, embarrassed, "it's a big, humanoid tree. And as I smell plants and earth…"

He snorted with some amusement when he heard that. He was known to have a green thumb among his companions, and even though his childhood friend was cursing his tendency to grow plants in their common apartment… he was able to grow plants in the tower, which was already an exploit, considering the state of the plains around the city. So have a nickname related to plants? It didn't bother him. Even if he couldn't imagine a humanoid tree.

Rose let out a quiet sigh of relief, realizing he wasn't offended by the name. It was something. She didn't really want to end up having nightmares again. She let out a tired yawn, still exhausted from her bad night.

"Bad night?" "Groot" asked gently.

Rose shook her head in response, letting herself go against his broad and reassuring back. The heat that emanated from him was nice, and she wanted to enjoy it as much as possible.

"I spent the year having nightmares about the murder of my parents," she replied darkly. "We were entitled to demons that bring back your worst memories to the surface. I couldn't even run the risk of going out of school, otherwise I could be attacked by those shits! They said they were there for our protection! My ass!"

"Your protection?" He questioned, shocked and furious at the same time. "Protection against what? And why didn't anyone do anything against them?"

Rose laughed bitterly, before starting to explain her story. She didn't talk about the Dursleys, but told him what she knew about her story, and what happened with Sirius. The betrayal of Pettigrew, the murder of her parents before her own eyes when she was a baby, the confinement of Sirius, and his escape when he learned that Wormtail was in the same school... and especially the same House.

Groot was furious on hearing this. How could people be stupid enough to believe that a baby could have defeated an adult terrorist? And above all… how could they have treated her like this? For a moment she was their Savior, an object of veneration, and the other, she was the incarnation of this terrorist! If he had been there… he would have let them know his way of thinking about their treatment of this child! He was known for his speeches on honor in the army… and most of all, his distaste for harassment, as one of his friends. There was no honor to blame someone weaker than you, or someone so isolated.

He let her know, and Rose laughed bitterly.

"People are morons with a sheep mentality. Education doesn't help, I admit, but they prefer to believe what is published in the press or what their "leaders" say, without thinking for themselves. Also, they are cowards who prefer to do what is easy rather than right. Terrorists generally operated at one against ten, sometimes more, and had the balance of power against them. But people were too cowardly to want to fight, and they preferred to keep their heads in the sand rather than face the reality… and if their leader had not attacked me… the government would have fallen in the weeks that would have followed."

He shook his head in disgust.

"And what are you going to do?" He asked.

Rose sighed.

"Honestly… a part of me is serious considering leaving everything behind and abandon them to their fate. The only reason I don't do it… is that the chief terrorist is still alive, and he will not let me go before I'm dead. Plus… I have a few people I care about in this crazy world. And I don't intend to let the murder of my parents go unpunished. I don't want to kill, but…"

"What do you mean?" Groot asked, puzzled and furious. "You aren't telling me that people expect you to kill someone with your own hands? You are not even a warrior, nor even an adult!"

Rose could not restrain the bitterness and anger in her voice.

"They don't care. All they want... is a scapegoat to blame when things go wrong, and a sacrificial lamb for the rest. Oh, I don't doubt that they will make me a grandiose funeral if I come to go down "heroically" by killing this nutcase… but it will serve me nothing. I don't want to die, or become a murderer, but adults refuse to take things in hand. So I don't have much choice."

Groot shared her anger. If he had been there, he would have done everything so that she wouldn't have to get to that point. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply to regain his composure. It wasn't like he could do anything to help her… unless he offered his support and presence. After all… it was just a dream.

Deliberately, he turned the subject around to talk about other things, trying to distract and cheer her up. It seemed to work, at least in part, because her voice became lighter and happier. The bitterness didn't disappear completely, but he felt she appreciated his efforts to distract her.

After a moment, he noticed that her answers were becoming more and more distant and distracted, until she stopped completely. He took a few moments to realize that she had fallen asleep, and shook his head with sadness and amusement. Obviously… she had slept worse than he thought. Letting out a slight sigh, he decided to let her sleep… if one could sleep in a dream.

oOo

He opened one eye, half asleep, before sighing, seeing the time. He had to get up to make breakfast for his friends, even though he would have liked to continue talking with Flower. Of his two friends... one was an inveterate pyroman, and the other wasn't a great cook. Oh, he was able to make food, no problem on that side, but he didn't take much pleasure doing it. And he had enough to do like that. As for himself... he didn't mind cooking, and he even liked that. And even the hyperactive kid he had taken under his wing loved his cooking.

He got up with a grunt, stretching himself to untie his muscles. Going to the kitchen, he began to think about this hyperactive kid. He was barely old enough to join the army (and he was almost certain he had run away from home), but... he felt the potential in this kid. He had seen him with a sword in hand... and by the Goddess, the kid had talent. Hyperactive, certainly, and with an even worse attention span than that of a puppy, but a rare talent, of the kind found once in a thousand.

And he didn't intend to see this talent be lost just because the instructors couldn't keep up with this kid. Apprenticeship was perhaps a practice that was getting lost... but if he took him under his wing... he saw the boy progress at a speed never seen before.

His mind drifted again, and he began to think back to the dreams he had been making till now.

Since as far back as he could remember... he dreamed of a flower. However... despite all his research, he had never found out what species it was. The petals were jet black, and the leaves bright green. At first, the flower was closed, like some flowers at night, or like when still in bud. And then, the more time had passed... the more the flower had seemed... sick? In any case, it had begun to wither very quickly in his memories.

Sometimes... he remembered that it curled up, as if it was running out of nutrients. The soil it seemed to grow on seemed fertile, but... it was like someone was blocking the nutrients, preventing them from reaching it. As if refusing it the fertilizer it badly needed. And he was powerless to help it. And the symbols that were engraved on the leaves... they made him want to find the person responsible... and to let them know his way of thinking. He couldn't decipher them (and yet he had searched for it...), but he instinctively felt they were just not good for the flower.

And yet... it continued to... refuse to let itself be defeated? In any case, it was the impression he had. It had begun to open in recent years, despite its sickly state. And despite that... it seemed to... hold on? How? He struggled to keep calm, thinking back to a dream he had made last year. The flower... he didn't know at all what had happened to it, but the flower had begun to... keen? In any case, it had made cries of pain (and how much he had felt that something very, very serious had happened...), and the petals had been like... lacerated, letting blood flow. He still remembered his fury when he woke up. No one had dared to approach him that day, people were too frightened by his incomprehensible anger and without any apparent cause, especially since he had totally destroyed a VR room with his sword, so much had he been furious. He normally controlled himself much better than that, and it usually took a lot to make him lose his composure. But there... He had been unable to hold back his strength, and instead of just destroying the monsters he was facing, he had reached the metal, so much had he hit hard. Nobody had dared to say anything to him, however, with how much this anger was out of character for him. What could have happened to this flower?

His train of thought brought him to the dream he had just made. Strangely... this girl with whom he had just spoken in this dream... made him think of this flower. Weakened, bitter... but refusing to give up. Despite the obstacles she faced.

Groot whistled while preparing breakfast, deliberately trying to think of the kid he wanted to train, knowing that his childhood friend would soon be attracted by the smell of food (you could add to him the label of walking stomach in addition to a pyromaniac, he said to himself with amusement at seeing him enter the kitchen, his eyes half closed), and that their other friend would come to take a new cup of coffee soon, with pancakes to make it through and hold until lunch.

The whole problem... it would be to convince his childhood friend to not give to his jealousy by seeing that another person was joining their small group. But he had his methods. And then it wasn't like he was going to neglect him. He wouldn't lose his place in his heart, even if another person was added to it.

Greeting their friend, he began the long and difficult task of explaining to his childhood friend his decision to take an apprentice. Of course, as he had expected, his reaction was exaggerated and very theatrical. The trick was to prevent him from picking up speed and stopping him as quickly as possible. That wouldn't prevent him to start again regularly, until it entered his thick skull.

oOo

Rose woke up softly, and took a long time to realize that she was back in bed, and no longer in this strange plain. Yawning, she got up, her mind still on her dreams. Strangely... it reminded her of this place where Aerith was talking to Cloud, the Lifestream. She snorted, amused, thinking about that. It wasn't like she could communicate with any other fandom! Rose shook her head with some sorrow as she thought about it. The power needed to move from one universe to another was huge, if she trusted Stargate SG1. They had even used a black hole to connect the universes! On the other hand... how could the quantum mirror work in this case?

Her mind kept turning on these thoughts throughout the day, distracting her. Anyway, now that the exams were over... it was quiet. No need to pay so much attention. Of course, Hermione wasn't really of that opinion, but if Rose was more calm... that didn't mean that she relaxed. Just... that she didn't take it to heart anymore.

Ron, on the other hand, seemed strangely pensive, to Rose's greatest perplexity. Why? She wondered if that meant he had become aware of something before shaking her head. Don't dream, she told herself, snorting. She wasn't so lucky.

The day went off without a hitch, and, without her having seen the time passed, she found herself in the evening. As usual, Rose got ready for the night, wondering who she would talk to this time, or if she was going to have nightmares. She sighed wearily. Part of her was hoping to talk with Mr Ice and Leather, or with Groot. Mr. Apple and Smoke, though... she was less sure of that. He didn't look bad, but... he seemed a bit... off the mark. And it made her think vaguely of Ron on the edges. In less serious, but still.

Pulling the draperies around her, she snuggled under the covers with a sigh. Part of her... didn't want to sleep alone. She... would have liked to sleep against someone who would protect her from bad dreams. Like Groot. He... made him feel safe. The other two, too, now that she thought about it. Not quite the same... but she felt safe with them too. A snort escaped her. It wasn't with the Dursleys that she would feel that way.

Shaking her head, she turned to the other side, pulling up the blankets to hide her head. The Dursleys... were not a family for her. Not in the same way as she saw at the Burrow, with the Weasleys. These people... were only people with whom she had the misfortune of being related. And for those... "people", it was clear that it meant nothing.

Rose forced herself to think of something else. This kind of thoughts... was guaranteed to make her have a very bad night. But until now... she had never consciously thought of that. Because as Rose... she had never known anything else. It was only thanks to her previous life that she knew that what was going on had far more sinister connotations than she had thought.

She sighed, and tried to clear her mind to get to sleep. Still, her mind kept coming back to those three people she was talking to. Who were they?

Sleep eventually seized her without even realizing it, and took her to a new meeting... which would be the last.

oOo

Again? Rose thought in her mind, exasperated. I'm sick of this bullshit!

Once again, the flowery plain was spreading around her... and again, she was with a different person. Hell, that made at least the fourth person with whom she found herself in this dream! This time, though... was slightly different, she felt. For starters... the person with her (again a man apparently) was smaller than the other three with whom she had spoken so far. Was he younger? Plus... he was vibrating almost literally against her back, like an over-excited puppy.

She frowned, a little puzzled. She couldn't really recognize the smells this time around. There was a smell like... wet forest? In any case, it was like those times when she was in the forest after a rain. There was also another smell in the air... a strange fruity smell and soft, almost sweet. She couldn't recognize it though. Maybe an exotic fruit?

She sighed softly. The Dursleys refused to eat too many "exotic" fruits, because it wasn't something that "normal" people ate... except when they were expensive. And when they did, she could always dream (literally) to taste those fruits.

A little annoyed by the person (the boy?) who vibrated behind her back, she spoke:

"Can you calm down a little? You looks like an overexcited puppy!"

Her interlocutor froze, visibly surprised, before whining (really like a puppy):

"Not again! But why does everyone compare me to a puppy?" He moaned in dismay.

Rose couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Really? Who else is calling you that?"

"My mentor, ****** ******, he is... What?"

Rose laughed again.

"Sorry big guy, but impossible to give names here. It's a bit painful, but we do with it!"

"How do you know that?" He asked curiously.

He was dying to turn around to see who he was talking to, but something was preventing him. He felt that if he did, the dream would come to an end. And he didn't really want that. He wondered how old she could be. From what he felt in his back and her voice, she must have been barely younger than him. He felt her shrug, leaning against him.

"Already dreamed of three other people, and no way to give my name... or to have theirs, even if one of them was an idiot and tried to turn around. Spoiler, it stopped the dream short!"

The boy snorted.

"What an idiot. He knew it was going to do that, at least?"

"Yep, but it didn't stop him! Yet I had warned him. Though, he didn't seem to like my vision of being a hero."

"What do you mean?" He asked, half-vexed half-perplexed.

What was she against hero status? It was his dream beside… well, not the one he was in now, but what he dreamed of becoming. He felt her sigh, suddenly weary and bitter.

"Being a hero, it's nothing great, quite the contrary. Everyone expects so much of you that you just cannot make everyone happy. And what do you get in the end? Nothing, if not loneliness. You really have to like the crappy ends to want to be a hero."

"You really think so?" He questioned, astonished and saddened for her.

Why was she so pessimistic? Being a hero was not so bad... no? No? He heard her sigh, as if she had the misery of the world on her shoulders.

"From my personal experience... yes. I'm famous for supposedly defeating the terrorist who murdered my parents," she said bitterly. "As if a baby of fifteen months was able to do that! But no, since my mother had parents who didn't have magic, she couldn't do that! People are morons with a sheep mentality. They prefer to believe that I would have been able to do that, rather than accept that my mother has found a way to do something to protect me!"

He shook his head, disgusted. Why were some people so stupid? Even though, from what she said, it was rather society as a whole that had a problem. He decided to change the subject, wanting to draw her from her depressing thoughts.

"And so... if we cannot give our names... is a nickname possible?"

Rose giggled.

"A nickname is quite possible. One of the people I was talking to... called me Little Flower."

He blinked, before chuckling.

"It's pretty," he said with amusement. "And what would you give me as a nickname? Not the Puppy I hope!"

Rose burst out laughing in response.

"But it's so adapted! You vibrate like a puppy!"

"Buuuuuuuuut!" Moaned the concerned, secretly happy despite everything to get her to laugh. "It's not fair, everyone calls me that already!"

"We won't wonder why!" Rose replied, amused.

The dream went on thus, the two teenagers bickering gently, without heat. More like two teenagers coming to meet, who realized that they were perfectly compatible. Rose... appreciated this new meeting. Her interlocutor was fun, kind, and just adorable in general. To the point that, very quickly, they agreed to be informal with each other. In addition, they seemed to be the same age, almost. His enthusiasm... really lifted Rose's morale... and how much she needed it with her life.

Rose regretted only one thing with these dreams... it was that they didn't allow her to see who she was talking to.

oOo

The boy woke with a start when the alarm clock sounded in the dormitory, and groaned in despair. Why did dreams always have to stop at the best time? It didn't take him long to bounce back, however, his playful and sparkling character quickly taking over.

However... he couldn't help but rethink about what Little Flower (he quickly decided to call her simply Flower in his mind) had said when speaking of the status of hero. Why was she so pessimistic? What could have happened to her to be like that? And why had he not dreamed of the flower as usual? The petals of it were jet black and the leaves of a bright green, and it didn't look like any flower that grew around the village. Puppy wondered if it was fine. For as long as he can remember... the flower had given him the impression of being... sick? In any case, in poor health. Sometimes... it gave him the impression of drooping down with exhaustion, as if it was forced to continue doing chores even though it was already tired. And those strange symbols that were engraved on the leaves... the Puppy had no idea what they meant (and yet he knew how to read, whatever the spiteful gossip might say), but something told him that they were responsible for the state of the flower.

And that made him angry. Because one didn't have to be a genius to guess that if it continued... the flower might die one day. The puppy wanted to see the flower in full health. Because it was still beautiful, despite its unhealthy state of health. And if the symbols could disappear... he was sure it would be absolutely beautiful. A marvel to contemplate.

He growled angrily, thinking back to a dream he had made last year, just after entering the army program. The flower... he didn't know what had happened to it, but the flower had started to... keen? In any case it had made cries of pain (and how much he felt that something really horrible had happened), and several petals had been torn, making the flower bleed. He still remembered his state of hot fury when he woke up. He had been the last to wake up, and had terrified the other occupants of the dormitory by waking up with a gleam of murder in his eyes. He was pretty certain that at least some had pissed themselves scared when he had sat up abruptly, snarling with rage, suddenly wide awake... and very upset. It was so little related to his character that all the other occupants of the dormitory had looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, only one brave enough to ask him if all was well. He could not help but growl that no, he wasn't alright, and that if he found the one that had made the flower bled, he would make him eat a sword through the ass!

The others had looked at him with a mixture of fear and incomprehension, especially seeing that his anger was not calming down... and that he was able to lift a sword almost as heavy as that of one of the commanders, destroying with one sword slash the training dummies, to the point that they had to be put in the trash. Finally, his anger had subsided, and his natural character had taken over. But it still took weeks for them to stop looking at him with concern. The memory had stayed, and no one had dared to comment on the flower afterwards, especially seeing that it made the anger rise to the surface. Less violent than the first time, but enough so that everyone avoids the subject if they could. Tacitly agreeing that it was a taboo subject.

He joined the other occupants of his dormitory in the cafeteria, ignoring the jealous glances and murmurs behind his back with his usual enthusiasm. To be spotted by one of the Commanders was the dream of all the cadets (except for the pyroman, all preferred to avoid catching his attention, and by the same way the fireballs that he swung like confetti), and he had managed it in just a few weeks. He knew that the instructors were struggling to follow him, and yet he was doing his best. But he just couldn't focus his attention for more than five minutes (his record was 8, and because he absolutely wanted to learn these kata with the sword), and yet it wasn't for lack of trying.

Yet... when he had... shared? His energy with the flower... his concentration had improved. Not long, but he remembered that when he shared his energy... he was better able to concentrate. It hadn't lasted more than a day or two, to the chagrin of his parents, but he remembered these episodes well. The problem... is that he never understood how to do it. And yet, he would have liked to continue. Not so much for him... as for the flower. He had the vague impression that it was going to need it. Impossible to know why, thought. And it gnawed at him vaguely, between two distracted thoughts.

With a sigh, he tried to focus on the lessons. But he could not take the flower (and Flower) out of his mind. Why did it seem so important to him?

oOo

Rose awoke with a start... and cursed again the alarm clock that had sounded in the middle of the dream. It was already the second time it happened! She sighed irritably, rubbing her face.

These dreams were really weird. Who could she be talking to? And above all, why four people? If it went on, she would end up in polygamy with those four. Or was it called polyandry? She wondered, frowning. She vaguely remembered reading something about it in her old life.

A sarcastic snort escaped her thinking about the Dursleys. For them, that would be a new proof of her "abnormality". Already they couldn't stand seeing her in painting, she doubted they would hesitate to call her a whore if they came to learn that. Their opinion didn't matter to her now, to be honest. Although it was difficult to overcome years of conditioning.

With a sigh, she got up, getting ready for the day ahead. She could barely wait until the year was over. She absolutely wanted to escape Dumbledork. Her mind belonged to her alone, and Rose already had enough of a madman who could potentially delve into her mind via their bond. She had enough to do like that!

"If I really were Slytherin's heir," Rose muttered to herself, "I would ask Hogwarts to make sure that Dumbledork cannot realize I'm starting to get away from him. I still do not want to fire him, this old goat can still be useful, if only as a scarecrow against Voldy. I'd also like to get the Basilisk's carcass, because I don't want that old schnock fill his pockets the money from it after all, I'm the one who risked my life to kill it!"

oOo

Rose didn't know it, but her words had been heard by the school. And to say that the latter wasn't satisfied with the actions of her headmaster was to say that the ocean was wet. A euphemism of gargantuan proportion.

However... Hogwarts was also aware that Riddle, aka Voldemort, represented an even greater threat to children... even though the ever decreasing quality of education was also a problem for her. After all... the purpose of a school was to prepare children to join the working life. And there had been enough professors devoted to their profession to imbue this desire to learn and teach in the very walls of the castle.

The protection of the children, and even more of the heirs, was also something the Founders literally carved into the school, and in such a way that Dumbledore was unable to pull it out without incurring the wrath of the school. Oh, he did his best to weaken the protections (a blatant example was the troll two years ago, or the diary the year before), not to mention his refusal to let the school take care of the curse on the Defense post.

And the more time passed, the less Hogwarts was patient with his actions. The coup de grace had begun with Rose's arrival in the school. What the Sorting Hat had discovered in the child's mind... had been a source of fury for the building's conscience. Alas... she couldn't act on her own. Security put in place by her creators... just in case. Even though Rose wasn't aware of it... her words had activated a security set up by the Founders, in case the Headmaster would come to represent a threat to the students when there was an Heir present. If the Heir ever expressed concerns about their own safety, or that of the students, the school could take steps to correct that.

In this case, Rose having expressed concern for her own safety, Hogwarts was free to make Albus Dumbledore aware of nothing. And to use all the necessary methods for that. For the moment, she couldn't do much, since he hadn't yet made any hostile move towards Rose. But she could... curb the effect of the spells on Rose. Not to destroy them completely, alas, not without a request from Rose herself, but she could mitigate the effects. Also, she could refuse entry to the Chamber of Secrets to Dumbledore, no matter what he did. Only Rose could enter it now.

And the day Rose gives the green light to get rid of Dumbledore/Voldemort's curse... the gates of hell would open. And Hogwarts would enjoy ejecting the old goat out of his wards... not to mention denying him a portrait in the Headmaster's office. Minerva McGonagall would be a much better Headmistress... if she agreed to delegate some of her responsibilities.

To be continued…

Since Nightmare's reawakening didn't want to cooperate, any more than the Prequel, I started this story, whose plot bunny refused to leave me in peace. I will surely go back to the other two at one time or another.

While I think about it... if you don't like the story (or pairing), steer away, and don't come back, thank you. Negative reviews will end up in virtual fire, thank you, it will warm me up. (And used to make me delicious foods -Dragonqueen909)

The next chapters will each be devoted to a character, with dreams featuring Rose's inside each chapter.

See you next time, and have a good read! o /