Chapter II:
I am inspired by the fear of being average.
⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱
Susan was nothing, if not terribly self-aware. If she said she was going to be a Hufflepuff, then not even the Sorting Hat could be convinced otherwise. So Hufflepuff it was. A flash of yellow and the blonde was now proudly looking like an overgrown bee.
When Rosaline's name was called, it took the Sorting Hat not long at all. The tattered old thing muttered in her ear for a few seconds about a promising future and no lack of ambition on getting there before it shouted "SLYTHERIN!" earning her a flash of green, and a roar of applause from the table on her left.
The Sorting Ceremony was not very eventful after that, and Rosaline was starting to get quite hungry. Hermione Granger had been sorted before Rosaline, into Gryffindor, which was admittedly a bit of a surprise as she had pegged her for a Ravenclaw.
Rosaline's table was further filled with a few girls, only one of which Rosaline had met before. And she was sure of this, as their faces were distinct enough to remember. Pansy Parkinson was a rather arrogant-looking dark-haired girl with an oddly shaped face. Her eyes were so small and dark, they did nothing to divert the attention from her nose, which was like a pug's. Millicent Bulstrode was equally unfortunate-looking. As she was square-shouldered and had the overall body-type of a rectangle. Tracey Davis was quite plain. Nothing about her really stole the show in neither a bad, nor a good way. She had rather dull brown hair, blue eyes that lacked the shine and were not particularly bright. She was neither tall nor short. Neither thick nor thin. Just plain.
The last girl, Daphne Greengrass was Rosaline's cousin. Daphne's father Ren, and Rosaline's mother, Joy, were siblings. Apparently, Uncle Ren had met his wife through Rosaline's mother. They had been trainee-Healers together. Daphne's mother used to take care of Rosaline whenever her mother and was at work and vice versa. But that hadn't been for a few years because Rosaline's mother was distinctly less busy now that Death Eaters were no longer killing and maiming people left and right as they did during the war. Daphne appeared to be, by far, the prettiest and most Pureblood-looking of the bunch. Her hair was light and shoulder-length, making it look quite stern. It wasn't helped by the coldness of her mossy green eyes and the overall blank expression she seemed to permanently wear.
Then, there were the boys, who didn't impress Rosaline in the slightest. Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe might as well be brothers as they were both large and stupid. Theodore Nott was tall, thin, and weakly built. Making him look extremely lanky, like a teenager not yet grown into their body proportions. Blaise Zabini was a tall, dark-skinned boy, with high aristocratic cheekbones and dark eyes. His mother, Elena Zabini, was friends with Rosaline's mother. Well, friends might be a big word. They were in the same married mothers' tea club, or whatever it is called.
And then there was Draco Malfoy. The Hat hadn't even properly touched his head before it shouted out and the boy himself looked quite smug about this fact.
All in all, Rosaline would, at that moment, have given anything to be in Hufflepuff with Susan.
The highlight of the Sorting Ceremony was definitely the moment Harry Potter's name was called out and the Wizarding World caught their first glimpse of the infamous Boy-Who-Lived. As Rosaline watched the skinny, lanky black-haired boy walk forward under the mutterings of the whole Hall, she tried to remember what her mother had told her about him.
She knew the basics, of course. She, like any other child, had not only heard stories about how Voldemort was ultimately defeated by this scrawny-looking kid when he was still an infant, she was actively taught in it in her magical history classes. Her mother and uncle Ren both differed in opinion, though, on how the boy survived.
Her uncle Ren was more inclined towards the gossip that had spread among especially the Death Eater families. That Harry Potter was a Dark Lord in the making, with power so grand and special he could defeat a wizard like Lord Voldemort without even trying. Needless to say, neither Rosaline nor her mother, were very convinced of this. And as she watched the small boy sitting on the stool, she became less so by the second.
Her mother worked for the Ministry of Magic. She had trained to be a Healer, but instead of choosing to work at St. Mungo's, she had applied for a job as a Forensic Mediwizard. If a Muggle or wizard alike died, or was otherwise attacked, under suspicious circumstances, Rosaline's mother was one of the first people on the scene to assess the damage and cause of death. It had been Joy Rosier, as a part of the small group of Aurors and Healers, that had found the Potters and investigated their bodies.
Rosaline's mother was a brilliant witch. One of the best, if not the best, Mediwizards in the world. She was an expert in a field many were afraid to involve themselves in, that of Dark Magic and its repercussions. Rosaline was convinced her mother had thoroughly investigated the matter of the Potters' death and it wasn't difficult to imagine her mother knew some things nobody else did. What happened that night had always been a very delicate matter. It wasn't just a sad day were an infant became an orphan, but one of major political importance. And Rosaline was familiar enough with their Ministry to know that they must have had a hand in editing the events of that night to benefit their political agenda. So, only the people who had originally been involved knew the truth.
Joy Rosier hardly, if ever, opened up about what she knew of big cases in the newspapers. But one thing she'd always been adamant in, and that was the fact that Harry Potter was an innocent child and that no amount of power in his soul would take away the fact that the world had failed him.
Harry Potter was Sorted into Gryffindor to the thunderous applause, louder than any yet had been, of the House at the other side of the Hall.
Draco Malfoy grumbled under his breath.
At the end of the Feast, the first year Slytherins were led away by Gemma. Rosaline had to admit that she was slightly sceptical about their common room when Gemma led them towards what she called, "the dungeons,". The first years were half-expecting some kind of hazing, but once the wall opened up and the Slytherin Common Room came into view, they let go of that fear.
The room was huge and reminded Rosaline a bit of an underwater Muggle church. The high ceiling was barely visible in the dark as the lanterns and candles were hung lower to illuminate the floor. But the middle of the ceiling, was a dome of glass, greenish light falling down onto a little pond in the centre of the floor. The water, in which floated lights and flowers separated the area where they were standing from a grand staircase that seemed to lead into the lake itself, As the back-wall too seemed to be made of glass for a large part, behind which the Black Lake was visible. Through the glass ceiling and the glass in the back, several creatures and fish seemed to be peering down at them to see the new arrivals.
"Don't mind the merpeople," Gemma said, as she noticed everyone looking up in awe. "They often come to distract you through the glass, but you should just try to ignore them. They are like city doves, once you give them some bread, they will hunt you for the rest of your life."
The Common room as a whole appeared green, as the light filtering through the Black Lake was green. Lanterns that hang down from around the dome, all the way down to their height, were like fairy lights, giving the room a warmer, whiter glow. Because of the lanterns, and their colours, everything in the common room seemed to sparkle in the dark. The room had two floors, which seemed to circle around the pond, filled, with lilies, in the middle. The lower floor only had the entrance, a few tables and chairs, the pond, and the staircase. Whereas the upper floor appeared much more comfortable, with a fireplace, cushioned seats and couches, bookcases, and rugs.
The common room really appeared to be a castle underwater. It was gorgeous and Rosaline couldn't wait to see what it looked like in the light of day.
"You are not allowed out of the common room after eight pm, and not before six am. And if you do, don't let anyone catch you because they will give you detention for a week, or worse dock points, which would annoy all of us." Gemma said brightly, she pointed at the stairs and the corridor that seemed to disappear into the lake from where they were standing. "Let's go see your dorms."
Despite the corridor appearing as though it disappeared into the nothingness, it actually didn't. It just led you past several doors as Gemma pointed out to which years they belonged. The boys were divided over a few dorms within the first corridor, whereas the first year's girls were led down another staircase, deeper into the maze that was called the common room. "The dorm rooms each have two beds. You'll find your trunks at the foot of your beds; I hope you'll like your roommate because you're going to be stuck with them for the next seven years."
Unfortunately, as it turned out, Rosaline had been forced to share a dorm with Pansy Parkinson. If the two girls had shared a mutual dislike, it might not have been that bad. But Rosaline had no such luck, as Pansy seemed to like her. Or at least determined to pretend as such. It must have been nearing midnight, as they had gotten back late after the feast and the small tour. And all Rosaline wanted now was to go to sleep. Pansy seemed to have different plans as she was holding a monologue about her day, to which Rosaline wasn't even pretending to listen.
Rosaline could not get used to Pansy's face. It was just so distorted. Hard, unkind, her nose positioned in a permanently stuck up way. If Rosaline weren't so familiar with Pansy's family tree, she would have thought there was some goblin blood in there somewhere.
As soon as she had finished packing her books for the morning, Rosaline blew out the candles on her bedside table and forced a still talking Pansy to retire to her own bed for the night.
The next day, Pansy had gotten up early to go all out on her Slytherin pride. She was wearing some sort of green butterfly in her hair, that seemed to flutter from one place to the next. Emeralds were dangling from her ears. Large enough to make Rosaline suspect they were quite valuable and probably not suited to be worn on an average day. Next was a big emerald ring and several smaller, thin silver rings that were slid around her finger.
Rosaline owned several pieces of jewellery that must be in a similar price range, but her mother would most likely kill her if she would handle them as carelessly as Pansy was doing now.
That might not be entirely true, as Rosaline did wear a single, priceless ring around her finger. It had been made for her by her maternal grandmother, the Greengrass matriarch. Fortunade Greengrass was a world-famous amulet maker. The trinkets that she charmed could protect you from all sorts of harm, from mind-reading to poison. All of her descendants wore a similar ring, including Daphne, and Rosaline's mother, Joy née Greengrass.
Rosaline had no idea what exactly the amulet protected her against. Fortunade made no two pieces of jewellery the same and every single one of them was personalised. They always turned out to protect the wearer exactly against the things the owner needed it to, before they even knew something was going to happen. Rosaline's mother was convinced that Fortunade was either a Seer herself or acquainted with one.
Whatever it was that the ring protected her from, Rosaline had always thought of her ring as the prettiest one of the bunch. It was vintage-looking with a round, pink sapphire at the centre and the golden ring twisting around it like branches. Daphne's was also quite pretty, even more understated, as the ring was much thinner with her, almost invisible and without anything fancy, with a smaller green diamond at the centre.
Her grandmother had taught her a thing or two about gems and as Pansy, twirled through the room and the light hit her huge earrings, Rosaline immediately knew they were fake. She could hardly say she was surprised as she hadn't expected the Parkinson family to be able to afford something like that. They might be ancient and pure-blooded, good marriage candidates for families who still cared, but rich and successful they were most certainly not.
The last Parkinson of any consequence had been Perseus Parkinson, who had been Minister for Magic from 1726 to 1733. He had been quite an infamous one too, as he had tried to ban marriages between Muggles and wizards. He had misread public opinion and was voted out during the next election. How some American president managed to pass a similar law on their soil in 1790, will forever be unbelievable to Rosaline. But then... they were American.
To make a long story short, very few people in the world still expected greatness, or even anything above average from the Parkinsons. And having met Pansy, Rosaline found her faith in the abilities of the Parkinsons disappear even further.
As soon as was possible, Rosaline sought the company of her cousin, who appeared to be the least silly of the girls in their house. Not that Rosaline would ever describe Daphne as silly. She was one of the most serious, unsociable people she knew. And inquiries about the weather were absolutely not part of Daphne's vocabulary and neither was idle chitchat with which Pansy was making herself heard.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. At least for Daphne and Rosaline, it was. Daphne seemed as uninterested in the world as usual. She had instead focused on reading her Charms book. Rosaline wasn't as lucky to have found a distraction in a book. She was instead distracted by Millicent Bulstrode's robes. The girl, who was easily a head taller than Rosaline, had put her wand somewhere in her robes. Now, the robes were not initially meant to have as many pockets as Millicent seemed to have. For she had been stuffing muffins inside various other holes since breakfast started. "For later," she had explained to Pansy when asked.
This would have been fine, if a bit strange, if Millicent didn't sit on her robes. But she was. Rosaline already saw stains appear of the now crushed food items, and she swore she had heard a crack that she hoped desperately wasn't Millicent's wand.
But then, who knows what else the girl had stashed away.
"- Let's hope we'll be chosen - " Rosaline heard Pansy say out of nowhere.
"Excuse me," she said conversationally, tearing her eyes away from Millicent's robes. "chosen for what?"
Pansy seemed thrilled to engage in conversation with Rosaline and turned towards her in an instant. "Sometimes the Heads of Houses pick certain students who show themselves to be better than average, and in need to be challenged, to assist them on occasion. Preparing lessons, or helping other students keep up, or even grade essays written by younger years. Professor Sprout has quite a few students helping her keeping up with her plants. And Professor Flitwick gives extra credit to his Ravenclaws when they help others. And Professor McGonagall is known to allow certain students to advance quicker in their studies if she finds that the current educational level is too easy for them. However, Professor Snape, our Head of House, is notoriously strict on the requirements needed to be chosen as a teacher's assistant by him. As he has very little faith in most students and he would probably not have a teacher assistant at all if the amount of work he has to do as a teacher, especially a Potions professor, wasn't impossible to do on his own. However, it does mean that whoever he does intentionally pick, that they are always the best of the best. Professor McGonagall forced him to take Alex Sykes, a fourth-year student, as a teaching assistant as he has been refusing to pick anyone for the past couple of years now. Which is why we are hoping we might impress him enough to pick us. It would certainly be great help for the future and apparently Snape is quite lenient with his assistants in class."
"Well, as long as they don't disappoint him that is," Said Draco Malfoy smugly, involving himself in the conversation, "I have no doubt he'll pick me soon. Not this year, of course, he never has first years helping him. And the benefits of being Snape's favourite are, of course, extensive. My father is confident I will be Snape's left-hand man by the end of third year."
Speaking of the devil. Professor Snape had come swishing into the Hall, wearing all black. His sleek hair was black and greasy, and his walk was so distinct, Rosaline had no doubt she would be able to recognise him from a mile away. He threw the class schedules at them before ordering them to follow him out the Hall. It had proved a bit of a challenge to keep up with him, but they managed. Potions class took place in the dungeons. The classroom was dark and damp. There were no windows and the walls were so dark, they almost appeared to be painted black. It was cold, much colder than it was in their common room. All sorts of strange animals or parts thereof were floating around in jars as they entered. It was just not one of the more pleasant areas of the castle.
What happened in the next hour or so was surprising, to say the least. Professor Snape started by taking a roll call, and Rosaline realised the Slytherins shared this hour with the Gryffindors. "Ah yes," Professor Snape paused, "Harry Potter. Our new...celebrity."
Draco and his new best buddies Crabbe and Goyle, who appeared even larger in the shadows, sniggered behind their hands.
When Professor Snape called Rosaline, his face flashed for barely a second. But enough to make her uncomfortable. He looked up and seemed to study her for a moment quietly. The moment passed and he looked away, going back to his depressing self. It gave her the shivers and she could tell she hadn't been the only one who noticed his strange look. Daphne had stiffened beside her, now looking at Rosaline in question.
"Potter!" Said Professor Snape suddenly, as he had been in the middle of explaining the use of the class. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Hermione Granger's hand shot up in the air. She was twitching in her seat, determined to be the one to answer to question and prove to everyone whatever it was that she wanted to prove.
"I don't know, sir," Harry replied, looking mightily confused.
Professor Snape's lips curled up in a sneer. "Tut tut.... fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand. "Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without leaving her seat.
The Slytherins were getting restless, muttering, and laughing at both Harry and Hermione.
"I don't know, sir."
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" He sneered. Seeing as no normal student could have read the whole book and memorised it all, it appeared to Rosaline as though Professor Snape was actively trying to humiliate a student in front of his classmates, on the first day of school. "What is the difference, Potter," Professor Snape sure did enjoy spitting his last name out like it was something dirty in his mouth, "between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
At this Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling in a display of one of the most awkward and know-it-all gestures Rosaline had ever seen in her life.
"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" A few people laughed. Professor Snape, however, was not pleased.
"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "Rosier," He had turned to Rosaline, which surprised her as she had not expected him to do so. She had not been holding up a hand, had not been searching the answers in her book, nor had she been anything other than attentive, but unwilling to actively participate. "Why don't you make yourself useful and tell Potter what he should know in my class."
Rosaline was reluctant to answer right away. She knew what a Hufflepuff would have done in her position. They would have told Professor Snape that he was treating Harry unfairly and would have told him that probably not even half the class knew the answers to his questions. A Gryffindor would have stood up against him in some way or another, although no Gryffindor in the room did so. A Ravenclaw would have prided themselves in knowing the answer. But Slytherins, Slytherins would show that not only did they know the answer, they knew it well. They wanted to impress, despite their dislike for the teacher.
"Yes, sir," Rosaline said, clearing her throat. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. The drinker can then only be awoken by the Wiggenweld Potion or a Wideye Potion. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and when swallowed whole, it is the antidote to most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, that was a trick question, as they are the same plant that also goes by the name of aconite. It is most commonly used in the Wolfsbane potion and in the before mentioned Wideye Potion."
"Well, why aren't you all copying this down?" There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Rosaline caught Professor Snape's eye. He wasn't looking at her directly, but she got the distinct impression he was still watching her. "Ten points to Slytherin, and a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."
Professor Snape then put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around the room in that black cloak of his, that made a swishing noise every time he moved. He was criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, who he seemed to like. One more example of clear bias displayed by someone who really shouldn't have favourites. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when some acid green smoke filled the room. A few students coughed and a loud hissing caught everyone's attention, directing it towards the Gryffindors.
Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to melt his tablemate's cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.
Rosaline, who was pretty familiar with the potion they had been making and the ingredients necessary, was incredibly confused as though how they had managed to get into the worst possible scenario with what should be harmless ingredients.
Poor Neville had been drenched in the potion, moaning in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy!" snarled Professor Snape, clearing the spilt potion away with one wave of his wand. "Rosier, come here and bring your cauldron."
Everyone looked at her as she brought her potion to the crying Longbottom. Professor Snape took one glance at it and said, "are you happy with this result?"
Rosaline could concentrate on little else but the moaning Neville, and the several other students holding their burned feet. "The book said it is supposed to be blue, with pink smoke rising from the cauldron." She said, looking down into her cauldron, which matched that description. "So, it should be good." Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.
"Use it on Longbottom if you please. If it works, you'll get another ten points." Said Professor Snape, "While you're doing that, please tell Longbottom where he failed."
"You shouldn't have added the porcupine quills, Neville," said Rosaline, handing the poor boy her potion, "not before taking the cauldron off the fire first." Neville looked down at her potion with uncertain eyes, fearful no doubt it would make the pain worse. She smiled encouragingly. She must have done it correctly, otherwise, Professor Snape wouldn't have asked her to cure him. He can't be cruel enough to have her make it worse. He's an adult. "It will cause your skin to erupt in painful boils. But I suppose I need not tell you that now."
Professor Snape, meanwhile, had rounded on Harry Potter and his tall, lanky, red-headed friend. The redhead's clothes were enough proof of his name, she didn't even need to look at his hair colour. That had to be Ronald Weasley. The two had been working next to Neville. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."
The Slytherins, no doubt more than aware of how unfair this was, looked elated. They were after all not a house known for fair play. Any kind of advantage, in whatever way it was given, was accepted by them. Not necessarily a characteristic of the house Rosaline was against usually, but this might be an exception. Professor Snape might be an exception.
Their next class was Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Hufflepuffs. The classroom was on the first floor of the North Tower, which was easy enough to find. The room smelled strongly of garlic, which Malfoy insisted was to ward off the vampires Professor Quirrell had angered on his voyages. And then there was the man's mysterious turban, which also smelled rather funny whenever he walked past Rosaline's table. She had to hold her nose each time. It smelled like death and decay. A smell she wasn't that familiar with, but one her mother had described in detail after a particular traumatising day at work. When asked why he wore the turban, Quirrell launched into an explanation about how it had been a gift in return for his services in getting rid of zombies. Which was believed by absolutely no one in their class.
That evening, Rosaline approached the Gryffindor table confidently, ignoring the way the whole Hall seemed to silence as if waiting for an argument of some kind. The first-year Gryffindors all stared as she walked up to Neville and held up a little decorated box with a lid for him to take. "My mother made it." She said, as he took it cautiously. "if any boils return, or if spots start to burn or itch again, you should put some of the ointment on it very thinly."
"I wouldn't take that, Neville, she's in Slytherin." Hissed the redheaded Weasley, who was seated next to Harry Potter.
"Do with it what you will, Neville," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly at the Weasley's animosity towards her. "I don't believe I have given you any reasons to doubt my good intentions." She then turned to Harry and grabbed something else from her bag. "I copied my reading notes for you. They should get you through Professor Snape's next class unscathed. If I made you feel stupid or ill-prepared this morning, I apologise. I didn't mean to. I was given the opportunity to prove my worth, and I did. However, that doesn't mean that I agree with the way Professor Snape handled things today."
She paused briefly, the Gryffindors seeming too stunned to so much as thank her for going out of her way to help them. Did they think this was normal behaviour for a Slytherin? Because if so, they were in for a rude awakening. "Just between you and me. If you want to put Malfoy in his place. He takes great pride in his ability to fly well. Flying lessons start soon. You can one-up him there."
"And why would you help us to work against one of your own?" Interrogated Weasley suspiciously.
Rosaline cocked her head and stared him down. "Well, fortunately for you, you only have to deal with the likes of Draco Malfoy during Potions and during meals. I, however, have the unfortunate pleasure of being in the same room with him for the largest part of the day. If anything, I am helping you more for my own sake, than yours."