The Trip Between 9 and 10
Her Uncle Harry was a very kind man very humble despite his involuntary fame. For he was known throughout the Wizarding world, as a hero.
Yes, Rose was a witch who lived in a family all blessed with magic. But the community of magical people was forced to hide their powers from the outside world in fear of prosecution.
Thirty-six years ago, there was a wizard, a very evil, very dark wizard who had attempted becoming all powerful and overthrowing the Ministry of Magic, (The magical government.) His name was Voldemort.
But his reign of terror, of killing, was seemingly over when he had attempted to kill a baby that was prophesied to one day destroy him; this baby was Harry. Harry’s parents were killed in the attack of Godric’s Hollow, Halloween night, 1981. But due to the power of a mother’s love, and the sacrifice of her own life, baby Harry survived the killing curse which rebounded, destroying Voldemort instead. The entire wizarding world celebrated that night, and gave little Harry Potter the title of ‘the boy who lived’.
That would have been an excellent end to the story, unfortunately, unlike everyone had thought, Voldemort had not died. He returned, more powerful and more terrible than ever before, thirteen years later. But again, through much pain, much sacrifice, yes, sacrifice, Harry again defeated Voldemort. This time, he did not do it alone, friends, mentors, teachers, and leaders stood by him. Two of these friends, of Harry’s best friends, were named Ron and Hermione, and that is who Rose was, she was the daughter of Ron and Hermione. A witch and a wizard who had second handily defeated Voldemort. Both her mother and her father had worked at the Ministry of Magic after that, both with high positions. Presently, her mother works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and her father worked as an Auror, a dark wizard catcher, before quitting to help his brother run a popular joke shop.
In ten hours’ time, Rose would be leaving to go to this new, legendary, highly recommended, school. This was very exciting because the school was known to be the best in Britain, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. At this castle was where Voldemort had been finally vanquished, during the Battle of Hogwarts, this was one of the reasons the place was so famous.
Rose was attending Hogwarts as a first year tomorrow. All her family attended the school and were nearly all sorted into Gryffindor house. Hogwarts had four houses in which the students were separated, these houses were Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.
During the first year, the students were sorted into one of these four houses where they would spend the next six years of their life. This would be scary for Rose in case she wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor house and would be separated from all her cousins who were already at Hogwarts. But strangely enough, she wasn’t scared. She had this sort of peace about the whole thing and really felt that everything would go right for her. But there was this heavy feeling in her stomach that she couldn’t quite explain. She felt sick about the sorting but wasn’t scared of her own, what was that stomach feeling for then?
Rose had already visited Diagon Ally, a wizarding market square, and bought her books, uniform, a plethora of other things she needed for school, but most importantly, she bought her magic wand. Her wand was made of ash wood, had a unicorn tail hair as its core, and measured 10 Ã???Ã??Ã?Â½ inches in length. This was the item that she was most excited about owning. She was warned by her mother not to do any magic with it before school because if the spell worked, she could get into trouble by the Ministry for underage magic.
Of course, she had done magic before without a wand, but couldn’t control what she did. One time, in particular, she had turned her cousin James’, Harry’s son, hair a bright pink because he was picking fun at her red hair. He still made fun of her sometimes, but now called her ‘red’ rather than ‘carrot’.
Though she respected her mom, she had tried to do magic with her wand anyway. When she was at the Potter’s house with Albus, the other son of Harry who she has a closer relationship with. She had dared to emit sparks from the end but hadn’t tried a more powerful spell because her Aunt Ginny had come in.
She and her brother Hugo, visited their cousins quite often, most often the Potters who they ate lunch with at least twice a week.
Rose had slept with her wand next to her since the day they bought it and cleaned it at least twice a day though it couldn’t get any shinier. Her trunk of books clothes, telescope, cauldron, writing material and many other things she needed for Hogwarts classes, was sitting at the foot of her bed locked and ready to go. She had laid out her school uniform over the bottom of the bed for when she had to wear it tomorrow on the train. The students at Hogwarts had to take a train to get there every year, the Hogwarts Express.
Rose tossed and turned now but couldn’t get to sleep. Was it excitement? There was this buzzing in her ears and she threw her head under her pillow to block it out. Was this buzzing normal when you were greatly anticipating something? She started to get a headache and finally sat up from bed irritably to peer around the dark room. Her eyes scanned over her desk in the corner where she’d study, over a large pile of assorted stuffed animals, and over a smaller stack of half-read books some of which were entitled, ‘So You Wanna Be the Best?’ ′101 Easy and Impressive Spells to Stun Your Friends’, ‘Magic for Morons’, and ‘How to Cope’.
Then she remembered -- the hand mirror. Her Uncle Harry had given both Rose and Al two identical magic hand mirrors last Christmas. They worked similarly to muggle video call, though Rose had never tried it. They’d buzz and become hot when one would try to get in touch with the other when you would swipe your hand across the mirror’s face, it would ripple and if answered right away, the other person’s face would appear on the glass. She and her cousin were gifted these hand mirrors because her dad Ron, and Al’s mom, Ginny -- who happened to be siblings -- were often complaining about how their delivery owls, wizard post, were never around when they needed them for something important because Rose and Al were always sending them out with letters to each other. The letters became so frequent that Harry had to figure out a solution for them to communicate without always using the delivery owls. So, he bought two ordinary hand mirrors, used spells to make them two-way, and gifted them to Al and Rose. It had been a lot easier and faster to talk.
But right now, Rose was frantically groping around in the dark trying to remember where she had put hers. She lit the candle on the bedside table in a hurry to find it because it had been buzzing for a little while now. As soon as the tiny flame illuminated around two square feet of the room, Rose saw it. It was sitting on her bedside cabinet right beside the candle and she had placed the matches right on top of the glass. Hastily, she grabbed the silver handle and swiped her hand across the screen to answer.
Al’s face rippled into focus illuminated by what looked like one candle also. Al was her age and greatly resembled his dad. He had black, slightly messy hair, and bright green eyes. His face, which was usually bright and friendly, now looked solemn and full of worry, it brightened slightly in sight of her.
“Hey, Rosie,” he said.
“Al, its one in the morning,” Rose stated the obvious.
“Like you were really asleep,” he replied knowing her too well.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, though she already knew.
“I’m going to be put in Slytherin, I know it!” he said, quickly.
Slytherin was the house at Hogwarts that had produced more dark wizards than any other and had a very bad reputation.
“Al,” said Rose warily.
“I know I’ve said it before, but I’m sure of it, I have this terrible feeling Rosie, I really do,”
This wasn’t the first time Al had brought this up. It was an evident fear of his. She had tried and tried to assure him that the sorting does not matter that much, that Slytherin wasn’t all bad and has changed since the end of Voldemort and that whatever house he was in would not matter in the slightest to her or to the rest of the family who would all still see him the way he is. Nothing that she said ever seemed to cheer him up, though, she knew that what he really wanted was for her to tell him that he was for sure going to be in Gryffindor like his brother, but she, of course, wouldn’t do that. Rose had no doubt that he would be placed in Gryffindor house but wasn’t going to predict something that was not set in stone, at least not something as important as this.
“Aren’t are you afraid, Rose?” Al asked.
“No, I’m not,” she replied truthfully. “I am confident on which house I will be put in and am also comfortable with wherever I am placed. There are certain aspects of each Hogwarts house that I like,”
“Not even a bit nervous?” he asked as if he wanted her to be so that he wasn’t the only one.
“No, I thought I would be but I’m only excited,” she said.
There was a silence, so Rose spoke.
“Al, you need to stop worrying about the sorting,”
“But what if I am put in Slytherin?” he asked desperately.
“So what? You need to be placed wherever you’d do best,”
“So if they put me in Slytherin that would mean that I’d do best being evil?”
“Al, you’re being ridiculous, not all Slytherins are bad you know, you’re named after one,” she replied.
“Rosie, you need to help me,” he croaked.
“How can I help?” she asked.
“I don’t know!” Al started to become frantic and his voice became higher like it always did when he was scared. “You always have the answer. You’re not about to say that you don’t know.”
“Albus, lower your voice I don’t want us to get restricted again. And I don’t know.” The words tasted bad in her mouth, she hated not knowing. “Everything the sorting hat will judge is all in your head, I can’t change what’s in your head.” There was another pause. “Al, no matter what happens I’ll be right by your side. Even if you are in Slytherin, I know you, and I know you’re not bad; you’re not a bad person Al,” she finished. Still more silence. “Have you talked to Harry about it?”
“No,” he answered quietly.
“Are you going to?” she asked.
“I’m thinking about doing it tomorrow.”
“I don’t know why you’re so worried about asking him,” said Rose. “he is your dad.”
“I don’t want him to think that I am weak,” he replied hurriedly.
“Al,” said Rose quietly. “He’s your dad, he’s not going to think you were weak, and being afraid doesn’t make you weak either. Besides your parents are supposed to mentor you, to help you through these things not judge you for them,” she finished.
“Thanks, Rosie,” he said, but she could tell that what she had said hadn’t done much to calm his anxiety. She sighed.
“Alright Al, you should go to sleep, and I mean actually go to sleep, don’t lie awake in bed all hours of the night thinking. You’ll fall asleep on the Hogwarts express and I won’t have anyone to talk to.”
“You’ll have James,” said Albus.
“James?” she laughed. “What a great conversationalist he is, doing all the talking more like, won’t let me get a word in.”
Al laughed, “That’s what he says about you. Goodnight.” And the hand mirror went blank; not like you could see much through it anyway.
Rose laid down her matted red haired head onto her pillow and fell almost instantly to sleep. Though her slumber was disturbed when she awoke with a start later in the night. She had dreamed that she was falling from a great height and woke right before she hit the ground. She looked at her digital watch that her grandfather had given her and saw that she had been asleep for three minutes. She laid back on her pillow in exasperation. Then she sat bolt upright and remembered what she had forgotten to pack.
“My travel bag!” she whispered. She swung the covers off and relight her bedside candle that she had blown out three minutes ago. “Let’s see.’”
She always packed a travel bag of random stuff to keep her occupied in case she got bored on a trip. She had forgotten it one time and had to travel all the way to Wales in a muggle (non-magic folk) car with nothing to do but listen to James talk and pick on his little brother Albus. She searched the room and -- though she could not draw well -- took a sketch book and a few pens from under her desk and placed in into a satchel. She grabbed a book of short stories, a bouncy orb that changed glowing colors to play with when it gets dark, a sneakoscope, a small flying model broomstick (she loved Quidditch, a wizard sport played on broomsticks.) She also packed a book called Quidditch Through the Ages, and one called Flying with the Cannons that her dad had given her but she had never read. She stepped back looking around the room to make sure she hadn’t missed anything and got back into bed. It was a long while before she had fallen asleep again, she could hardly suppress her excitement now; it was something like trying to fall asleep on Christmas Eve.
She awoke the next morning to her mother’s voice. Hermione had poked her head inside and was calling her in a frantic whisper.
“Rosie? Oh, Rose wake up; we only have two hours until we have to leave. Oh, I accidentally slept in, come on downstairs after you get dressed, sweetheart.”
It was just like her mom to wake her up two hours before, it was like her dad to wake her up two minutes after because he had slept in too.
Rose stepped out of bed clumsily and almost tripped. She took her Hogwarts robes from the end of her bedpost and pulled on her socks, skirt, white shirt, gray vest, black tie, and black robe. She took a small Hogwarts pin from her bedside drawer and pinned it to her tie. She knew that she would get looks heading to platform 9¾ but she was too excited to wait.
They were taking the muggle entrance into the station, King’s Cross, and usually had to dress in muggle clothes, otherwise people would look at them oddly. Rose stood in front of her mirror and gave a quick twirl in her robes. She loved it. It would look better when she had the Gryffindor crest on the left breast, though. She had a sudden jolt such of excitement looking at her uniform that she did a silly little jig. She laughed because she was being ridiculous and stood up straight again, took a deep breath, and hurried down the stairs. She got the bottom and had to run back up because she had forgotten her shoes and travel case.
She found her father sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee with more cream and sugar in it than actual coffee. Their home was quiet, quaint, and small. They could afford a larger house, of course, with both parents having stable jobs, but only being a family of four, they found that a smaller house would feel quite comfortable. Ron disagreed with Hermione on this theory, though, he had grown up in a large family with no money and was always very cramped. Hermione was stern, though, she had to be, otherwise, Ron would get what he wanted in a power parachute, or a mansion, to reconstruct their yard to be a Quidditch field, or to buy out the neighbor’s property and kick them out. They lived in an almost all wizard neighborhood. But a muggle family with four children somehow wormed their way into the house next door. Hermione was pretty sure that they had inherited it from a squib relative who had passed away long ago. A squib was a muggle born to magic parents but had no magic themselves. The neighborhood assumed that the squib hadn’t ever told anyone that he or she was born to magic family; squibs are usually ashamed of that matter. The neighbors were always having to put memory Charms on this poor family because they or their child had been immature in letting magic slip. Ron had to put a charm on the backyard so that if the muggle family looked up while the Weasley’s were flying on brooms, they would only see two overly large birds. But Rose’s house was big enough to be comfortable, small enough for a family of four, and was in a very good location with a large yard and trees surrounding the area, blocking them from most view. A garden was in the backyard and flowers were planted along the side of the house. A neat metal fence lined their property and two willow trees grew beside it.
Rose sat next to her father and her mom set a plate with an omelet in front of her. It smelled good, she could remember when she was younger and her mom was a dreadful cook so her father had to do most of it, though not being great himself. Ron insisted on ordering food all the time, but her mom, being so determined, had refused and remade meals every night. Burnt bread and dry, chewy ham was the best dinner she could make. One of the reasons they ate at the Potters so often.
“So Rosie,” said Ron. “You gonna try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year?”
“Of course I’m gonna try-”
“Swallow Rose.” Reminded her mom.
She swallowed. “Yeah I’m gonna try out, but I’m kind of nervous about it,” she confessed accidentally. “I mean,” she tried. “first years rarely make the house teams. A lot more than they used too sure, but still not often. James even waited until second-year to try out and he is obsessed with Quidditch to a point it’s scary.”
“You shouldn’t be nervous,” he said. “You’re one of the best players your age I’ve seen, better than James I think, but don’t ever mention that to ’em. Not enough practice? Tell you what, I’ll finish this,” he raised the Daily Prophet he had been reading. “-and we’ll go outside and practice.”
“Ron!” said his wife suddenly, “It rained last night, it’s all muddy and she’s in her new uniform.” Ron looked back at his daughter.
“Hold on,” Rose said and she ran back upstairs. She stormed into her room and ripped off her shoes, socks, and cloak, and slipped a pair of overly large rain boots that didn’t fit her bare feet, and ran back downstairs.
“How’s this?” she asked and she gave a twirl that made the rubber boots squeak. He looked at her boots and skirt and laughed. Hermione was looking at her white blouse.
“Alright, come on,” he said putting a piece of toast in his mouth and walked outside with his daughter. Rose could hear her mom give a half amused half exasperated snort.
They headed to the greenhouse and she grabbed her Nimbus 2001, it was a pretty old model but she saw no reason to ask for a new one, it still worked fine. Her father grabbed his old Firebolt and they walked to the backyard.
“So what position do you want to play?” he asked while checking for rain with the palm of his hand.
“Beater!” she replied.
“Are you sure you don’t want to be keeper, that’s a good one,” he suggested, keeper being what he played during his years on the Gryffindor Quidditch team at Hogwarts.
“Nah, I wanna be a beater,” she said while yanking her foot from the squelching mud.
“Alright, well I don’t think that we should get the bludgers out today, I don’t want you taking a chance of going to your first day of school with a broken nose. How ’bout chaser?” he suggested.
Quidditch was a wizard sport played on broomsticks. There were four balls, seven players on a team, and three goal post on either side of the pitch. In the seven players, there were three chasers, two beaters, one keeper, and one seeker. The chasers would take the largest ball, the quaffle, and try to get it through one of the other teams’ goal hoops. The beaters would use clubs to hit the two bludgers away from their own team and at the opposing teams’ players; bludgers were heavy balls whose job it was to hit as many players as they could of their broom. The keeper would guard their goal post and prevent the other team from scoring, and it was the seeker’s job to catch the last ball called the snitch. The snitch was a tiny golden ball that would zigzag around the pitch and was exceptionally tricky to catch. Once the snitch is caught, the game is over. Ten points for every goal scored and one-hundred-fifty points to the team that catches the snitch. Whichever team has the most points at the end of the games wins.
In about another ten minutes she had pulled her little brother, Hugo away from his omelet and got him to hover in front of one single goal post that her dad had mounted. And her mom took to watching them with a cup of tea from the balcony.
It was a good morning despite the gray weather. She and her dad passed the quaffle back and forth, and into the goal half the time, the other half, Hugo would block it. He had become very good, especially with him being so small. Again, and again they passed, they scored, they missed, they laughed for what felt like almost an hour. Until they saw yellow fireworks from above and looked to the balcony where her mom was shouting,
“Fifteen minutes!” Frantically.
They all sped to the ground and ran toward the house splattering cold mud all over their own legs. Rose fell out of both her boots which remained stuck in the mud and had to drag her little brother who was having a lot of difficulties. Had it been over an hour and a half?
“Scourgify, scourgify, scourgify,” her mother said pointing her wand at each of their legs as they all trooped into the house.
Every last drop of mud vanished from their person. She ran back into her room, pulled on her socks, shoes, and robe, and ran back downstairs. Her mom tied Rose’s hair into a knot on the back of her head. Her dad used a hovering charm to get her trunk into the car. He jumped into the driver’s seat, made sure they were all accounted for, started the engine, and took off.