𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 ☆ 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑦𝑛 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟

𝑌𝐸𝐴𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸 ☆ 15

They ended up in a sort of house. It was wooden and, navigating by Ron's yells of fright and terror.

"We're in the Shrieking Shack, aren't we?" Hermione breathed.

"Yep, my hunch was right," Rosalyn tried desperately to keep the shaking out of her voice.

And she was right. A long staircase lead up to a banistered second floor.

"Come on," Rosalyn said, as they reached the top landing; a few planks of wood, really.

They looked in old rooms with slashed curtains, ripped posters and burnt out fireplaces, but he wasn't there.

"Ron!" Harry suddenly yelled, and the three of them rushed into the room their best friend was in.

It was bedroom, with a broken four-poster bed in the corner of it. There was a piano with many keys missing and a table that looked a thousand years old.

Ron was in there, whimpering. He was sitting on a dusty old footrest and when Rosalyn asked. "Ron, are you okay? Where's the dog? And the fox?"

Ron answered quickly. "Harry- Rosie- It's a trap! He's the dog - he's an animagus! And- so's the fox!"

Rosalyn's heart went cold as she looked at the ground. There were dog prints on the floor, and fox paw prints...

But half way along the floor, they changed... into two sets of human's foot prints. And they went behind the door. When the broken, old door closed, Rosalyn realised that someone had been holding it open for them.

Sirius Black stood there, with a woman, who had red hair, by his side.

Before she killed him (or she killed her) Rosalyn took a moment to take them in.

Black was as ragged as he was in the newspaper. His hair was greasy and dank, his face was pale and his cheeks were sunk. He wore robes that might have been quite nice when he'd put them on, but had been ripped and covered in mud and dirt through the years.

And the woman beside him... well, she was... a lot like Rosalyn. She had red hair, a very Rosie expression on her face, and she looked quite angry. But her eyes... they were hazel. The exact hazel that everyone said Rosalyn got from her father. But this woman... she had them too. Her jaw was set and she was clenching her fists, but it wasn't at Rosalyn or Harry.

It was at Ron.

The attention turned back to Black as he took a step towards them.

Ron, however, wasn't having that.

With his injured leg, he stood up, limped over, and stepped in front of Rosalyn.

"If you want to kill Rosie you'll have to kill us too!" He shouted, even though the pure exertion of standing up was draining his face of colour.

Rosalyn felt a surge of kindness towards Ron, and Hermione and Harry when they stepped forward with her.

But Sirius Black retorted, his voice as ragged as his clothes. "No, only one will die tonight."

Rosalyn didn't know what made her do it, but she stepped in front of Ron and ran forward, getting a firm grip on Black's neck and bellowing. "And it'll be you! You killed them! YOU'RE THE REASON THEY'RE DEAD!"

She knocked him to the ground and left one hand on his neck, slowly strangling him. She took out her wand with the other hand and pointed it at his face.

She wanted a reaction, but all she got was a laugh. Sirius Black laughed, his yellowish teeth bared, his voice cracked more than once, but he just asked. "Are you going to kill me, Rosalyn?"