"Chaos is an angel who fell in love with a demon." -Christopher Poindexter.
TWO DAYS BEFORE 'THE PLAN':
MORNING:
-------------------> SHE WOKE UP TO A BLINDING WHITE LIGHT.
For a second, she thought that she was in heaven.
But then she realised that heaven would not have a red-haired boy staring at her in an awed expression.
She found that she was sleeping on a bed. The quality of the mattress was very nice and reminded her of the very comfy beds in Slytherin Manor and Malfoy Manor. The room was also very nicely decorated.
But she still felt weird staying in wherever her kidnappers had brought her. (And seriously, what is up with her and getting kidnapped!)
It was quite uncomfortable, to be honest. Almost as uncomfortable as the stare the red-haired boy was still giving her.
She grabbed the first thing her hand could hold -a pillow- and threw it at the redhead's face.
"Ow, mate." The redhead groaned, holding his face. "What was that for?"
"Who are you?" Rose retorted.
"Ron." He answered. "Ron Weasley." He elaborated with a smile.
Rose quickly sat up on the bed and clutched another pillow to her chest, ready to throw it at him.
"Where am I?" She asked him wearily.
She seemed to have gained a talent for getting kidnapped, it seemed.
"The Longbottom Manor. It is the base for the Order of the Phoenix." The redhead- Ron- replied with a proud expression.
The Order of the Flaming Chickens? Was that a new name for KFC, or something?
On second thought, she briefly remembers Marvolo mentioning (ranting) about this Order. Didn't he mention that it was the enemy/opposition/rebellion that she must avoid at all costs? Rose briefly amuses herself by imagining Marvolo's reaction upon finding out that she had been kidnapped by this Order of the Whatever.
"...... And so, as I said before, we rescued you from the Malfoy's, so you don't need to worry. You're safe now." Ron Weasley continued with a bright expression, completely oblivious to her internal musing.
Rose blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"It must have been bad, the way the Malfoy's treated you..." Ron Weasley continued, ignoring her confused expression. "Not to even mention that monster! Slimy gets they are, the lot of them. But don't worry, you're safe now." He repeated in what she assumed was a reassuring tone.
Rose opened her mouth to reply when Ron cut her off again.
"Wait here," He told her. "I'll go and tell the others that you are awake." And with that, he ran off.
In a minute, a herd of people immediately barged into the room, giving her quite a scare.
They all started talking at once, and this stout red-head woman that she assumed was Ron's mum, came to give her a hug which Rose immediately stopped by pushing the pillow she was clutching towards her.
The redhead woman looked a bit put off and sad at her action, but the look on her face was immediately replaced with a pitying expression.
After seeing the wide-eyed, confused and slightly horrified vision that Rose was emitting, the red-head woman slowly pushed all the people -about twenty of them- out of the room she was in.
Meanwhile, from what she had gathered from their incorrigible squabbling of talking all at once, (Aunt Cissa would be horrified over their lack of manners) Rose was caught up in a loop of one particular thought.
Did they actually think that they 'saved' her by kidnapping her from her family?
Did they seriously think that her FAMILY hurt her?
And more importantly, how in the name of James Dean's good looks does she somehow always get caught up in these types of situations?
She blamed it all on the Potter luck.
Her kidnappers and their associates had thankfully left her alone after that. They must have thought that she was recovering from 'trauma' or whatever merde (Pardon her French) their mind had thought of.
People, after all, saw only what they wanted to see.
Perhaps this is why she had been receiving pitying glances and sympathetic expressions from practically everybody when Bill Weasley (The handsome boy who kidnapped her. She honestly couldn't believe that he and Ron were brothers) brought her downstairs for eating breakfast (Apparently she had slept through the night, thanks to the stunner provided by the one and only, Ron). They thought that they had just rescued her from the deepest and darkest depths of hell.
But it wasn't.
To the contrary, her stay at the Slytherin Manor had been heaven, utopia, even Elysium, you could say.
She wasn't starved, instead, she had been pampered with varieties of food of exquisite tastes by the House Elfs- Mipsy, Gigy, Tilly and more.
She wasn't being blackmailed or manipulated, rather, she had been having beautiful and mischievous conversations with Nagini.
She wasn't confined in a deep, dark and damp dungeon. She had been with Lucius Malfoy and had watched with eager eyes as he spoke with passion about politics and traditions.
She wasn't abused. How could she have been, when her favourite cousin, Draco Malfoy was so overprotective?
She hadn't been tortured unless you would count those shopping sessions with Narcissa Malfoy in France. (She loved Aunt Cissa and she loved shopping, truly, she did. But, everybody had their limit, except apparently her dear Aunt.)
She hadn't been driven to insanity by Aunty Bella, but rather had been taught very useful spells by her that she was just itching to use right about now on certain people.
And how dare they think that Marvolo ever hurt her! (That question was rhetorical, by the way. Do not answer that).
Nothing truly bad had happened to her at the Manor (The worse having been the McNair incident, but she and Walden had become quite good acquaintances now, actually), so why would these people think otherwise?
They were prejudiced, she supposed. And judgemental. They judged books by their cover without looking at their content.
Because nobody was ever fully dark or light, just different shades of grey.
She missed them.
She missed her family.
She missed them all terribly- Nagini, Aunt Cissa, Uncle Lucius, Draco, Snuffles, Aunty Bella, Uncle Ruddy, Uncle Rab, Uncle Sev and Marvolo.
God, she missed Marvolo.
She did not speak to her kidnappers or their associates, any of them. Not a single word had exited her mouth since she had been blessed with their presence.
They had all not thought much about it, thinking the reason to be PTSD from the 'unspeakable horrors that she had no doubt gone through in the Devil's lair'
After sitting idly and blankly staring at a wall for the exactly 38 minutes, (and yes, she counted) Albus Dumbledore (A tall man with a very pull-able beard) spoke, "Any questions or enquires that you want to ask dear Rose should be put to a temporary halt." He said with a bloody twinkle in his eyes (she needed to learn how he did that), "Because, first we need to get Rose Potter a wand. And then, we must properly introduce her to our world."
She did not bother correcting the assumption that she did not have a wand. They had all thought that she had been starved of any idea of magic.
Let them continue thinking so.
So here she was now, still wearing the dress she had been wearing yesterday and a sling bag protectively slung over her shoulder; going to a Wandmaker –the best in Britain, apparently- to buy her 'first' wand.
She had a personal army behind her. All nine Weasleys with their bright red hair and wearing clothes that would make Aunt Cissa nauseous, the pink-haired kidnapper that had tripped at least six times on air, the Longbottom boy who was giving her weird glances and Albus Dumbledore himself, -whose twinkle in his blue eyes was brighter than Sirius (the star, not her father)- were accompanying her.
The shop in front of her was narrow and shabby to look at with peeling gold letters over the door of the shop to read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
The shop's display consisted of a solitary wand lying on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. The shop was tiny, empty except for a single, spindly chair in the corner. Thousands of narrow boxes containing wands were piled right up to the ceiling of the tiny shop, and the whole place had a thin layer of dust about it.
Rose was looking at some of the narrow boxes with intrigue when she was startled upon seeing slightly glazed baby blue eyes staring back at her.
Those curious eyes looked her up and down before speaking, "Ah, Rosalie Potter." He smiled. "You, my dear, are almost a spitting image of your grandmother. Except for your eyes- they are your mother's."
If Rose had felt weird that he knew so much about her, she did not verbalise it. Instead, she simply nodded.
"It seems like just yesterday your parents had come for their wand. Your mother's first wand was ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. " he said, giving her a wink when he told her about Lily Evans' wand. "Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. Your godfather -Sirius Black- was suited for Ebony, fifteen inches long, with a phoenix feather core. Neither too flexible nor too rigid. Very powerful. Excellent for offensive magic." Ollivander said, giving her a mysterious, knowing smirk.
She gave him a slight smile.
"Garrick," Albus Dumbledore said calmly, "Rose Potter needs her wand."
"Yes, yes, of course." Garrick Ollivander said dismissively before going to the enormous amount of wands, picking one out and giving it to her and asking her to "Give it a wave."
The first wand he had given her caused all the windows in the shop to shatter.
This repetitive process took a very long time. Sometimes he would snatch a wand from her hand before she had waved it, and other times Rose would have a small myocardial infraction as random objects in the shop started bursting out.
This was a new experience for her. The wand she currently had was bought and made in France by a particularly eccentric wand master who loved to experiment with exotic cores and imported woods. The wand master had simply asked her to hover her hand over a mountain of cores and woods and then asked her which of them 'called to her'. In the end, Rose had left the wand shop with an eleven and a quarter inches long wand, made of elder wood, with a single feather from the wing of a thunderbird as a core. Slightly flexible.
Ollivander gave Rose another wand. "Holly, eleven inches long, with a single feather from the tail of a phoenix." Here he glanced at Albus Dumbledore from the corner of his eyes. "A rather unusual combination of wand core and wood, but nice and supple. Give it a wave."
She could feel Albus Dumbledore's eyes boring on her as she lightly waved the wand around in her hand.
Rose couldn't explain exactly why, but somehow she knew that this was her wand. It just felt... right.
"Curious... Very curious..." Garrick Ollivander commented.
"What's curious?" Ron Weasley asked curiously.
Mr Ollivander seemed to ignore Ron and instead kept looking straight at her. "I remember every single wand I've ever sold, Miss Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when it's brother made you an orphan." He replied looking directly into her emerald eyes.
Rose visibly stilled. Her biological parents -James Potter and Sirius Black- were a bit of a sour topic for her.
"That's enough Ollivander." Molly Weasley spoke protectively. "Rose did not need to hear such things. Now come along children, we can go out for ice cream if you-"
"What do you mean brother?" came the melodic voice of Rose Potter.
The members of The Order of the Phoenix were startled upon hearing her siren-like voice. This was the first time she had spoken.
Molly Weasley shook out of her trance first, "Rose dear, I don't think you should know such topics. Now if you would, we can all go to-"
"What do you mean brother?" Rose Potter's enchanting voice repeated, slightly firmer. "What does that entitle?"
Ollivander's eyes lit up in happiness at her question. "The correct term is Priori Incantatem. It is a very rare magical effect. Since both the wands have twin cores, if the wands were to be forced to fight each other, then the result would be disastrous. You see, the wands would recognise each other as 'brothers' and refuse to attack one another." He explained.
Rose Potter nodded, satisfied. The other occupants of the room looked a bit blue at this revelation.
Albus Dumbledore quietly paid the money, and then they all turned to leave. Rose was two steps away from exiting the shop when suddenly Garrick Ollivander grabbed her wrist.
Rose looked up meeting his eyes, startled.
"I expect great things from you, Miss Black." He spoke, with a faraway look in his eyes. "After all, He-who-must-not-be-named did great things. Terrible, but great." He said, baby blue meeting emerald green.
Rose gave him a small smile and lightly shook off his hand. "I know." She whispered softly before leaving the shop.