Chapter VI:
She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world.
⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱
The mystery around Nicholas Flamel turned out to be much more difficult to solve than Rosaline originally thought. Which meant that it was something she could really put her teeth into without being disappointed by the simplicity of the task. She had foregone asking her mother about it. She was not home much anyway, and it took some of the challenge away.
The name did not appear in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time. He was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. Which led Rosaline to the conclusion, after a day or two of reading, that Nicholas Flamel was not a recent figure.
It took her, only a day more before she had solved the mystery, as she had instead gone back to the centuries before to find Flamel. Flamel was a fourteenth-century alchemist.
Now it was only a matter of finding what he could possibly have made, that was hidden in the Forbidden corridor. This answer was much easier to find.
The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.
There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera-lover. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).
So, Rosaline wrote Harry and Hermione letters saying they were most likely hiding the Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts. It was small enough to fit Harry's description
She ended it with a "you're welcome – but I still don't believe Professor Snape is after it."
Speaking of Professor Snape, he had given her so much homework, she spent the next week or so, drowning in it. He seemed no longer just focused on teaching her Potions. He was now asking her to familiarise herself with the habitat of most potion ingredients, and she had to write an essay on why she thought that Squibs and Muggles could not create Potions. He had let slip a few days ago that this amount of work was not just his idea, but that he had discussed her passion and talent with the Headmaster, and figured she needed a bit more of a challenge. However, Dumbledore had one condition though, that Rosaline was allowed to say at all times the workload was getting too much or became too difficult and then they would cut back on it immediately.
Professor Dumbledore seemed to have given the other teachers a heads-up on this arrangement as well, as Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra had sent home a few other assignments for her to do that were decidedly second year. Professor McGonagall had sent a letter, that she, too, was willing to give her more advanced work, but that she thought Transfiguration was already pretty difficult and that she wanted to be certain the basics were perfect.
Her mother, on the few occasions that she spoke to her before bed, was incredibly proud of her when she showed her the letters. Her mother, ever the Slytherin, saw the ambition and success and assured Rosaline that she had inherited her father's brains, and her mother's work ethic.
Once Rosaline returned to Hogwarts, she found Hermione who was over the moon with the fact that Rosaline had solved the mystery so quickly. As they could now focus on a way to stop whoever was trying to steal the Stone. Rosaline pointed out that they were merely first years and that it was highly unlikely that they would be the ones to stop whoever it was, but Hermione was so convinced it was Professor Snape and that Professor Dumbledore was oblivious, that Rosaline had no choice but to drop it.
Rosaline was barely inside the Great Hall when Harry and Ron hurried towards her, "Professor Snape's refereeing," Harry hissed. Rosaline had been so focused on telling Hermione how she had spent her break that when the boys came and announced this, it took a few seconds too many to really understand.
"Don't play," said Hermione at once. Ah, Professor Snape was going to be refereeing the next Quidditch game.
"Say you're ill," said Ron.
"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.
"Really break your leg," said Ron.
No doubt most Gryffindors just saw this as a ploy from Professor Snape to disadvantage Gryffindor enough to get Slytherin to win the Cup, but Harry believed Professor Snape was out to kill him and that this way he had a better shot at it.
Rosaline was now too far into the Great Hall too casually keep walking with them to the Gryffindor table. So, she said an abrupt, "See you later", and opted instead for her own Slytherins.
She was greeted by everyone as she sat down. She noted that neither Malfoy, nor Crabbe and Goyle were at the table as they were probably bullying someone somewhere. The Christmas break must've been really boring for them, with its lack of unsuspecting victims.
Rosaline did understand why Harry was terrified of flying on a broomstick anywhere near Professor Snape, after what had happened the last time. However, she found the whole thing suspicious, but not in the way they did. The Potions master had been working at Hogwarts for over a decade, and quite frankly, wasn't known for his amazing educational talent. She figured the Headmaster wouldn't keep him at the school if the man didn't serve another purpose. But then, Professor Dumbledore wasn't exactly known either for making good decisions on who he wanted as his staff. Professor Quirrell was useless. Argus Filch, the Hogwarts Caretaker was a piece of work, definitely not meant to be anywhere near children. And Professor Snape, himself, would most likely have been fired in every other kind of educational establishment for his biased, unveiled hatred for students, and his lack of desire to actually teach.
Rosaline was still trying to figure it out when she got to the dungeons. As she passed some cupboard, she could hear sniffling. She tried the handle, it was locked. She knocked, "Hello?" she called out, "do you need some help?"
There came some kind of noise, that Rosaline interpreted as being affirmative and she unlocked the door with a simple, "Alohomora". It was Neville Longbottom, curled up on the floor, unable to get up as he tried so when he saw her. His legs appeared to have been stuck together with a Leg-Locker Curse, and then he had fallen over, unable to get up, while being lock in the cupboard.
"Locomotor Liberalis," she chanted, countering the curse and freeing the poor Gryffindor, "Oh, Neville, what happened?"
"Malfoy," he said shakily, "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practise that on."
He still seemed a bit too shaky to stand on his feet, so Rosaline let him just sit for a minute, "Look, Neville, Malfoy is a coward. He picks his battles and he would only do something like this to someone who he knows wouldn't stand up to him. Someone whom he can torment without trouble."
"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that." Neville choked out. Rosaline handed him her handkerchief. "That's so soft," he said, feeling the white fabric between his fingers, "are those your initials?" His thumb brushed over the lilac cursive that spelt, R. F. R.
Rosaline nodded, "My middle name is Fortunade, after my grandmother, Fortunade Greengrass."
"It's too pretty to cry in."
"I wholeheartedly agree," said Rosaline with a grin, "so time to stop crying." Neville gave a small smile, but he was still sad and insecure. Rosaline sat down opposite him and sighed, "Bravery, Neville," she said, "is not something you're born with. I believe that every Gryffindor could have been in another house, but that the Hat sees something in them. A fire, a desire, a passion to be there for others, more than they are there for themselves. You could easily have been a Hufflepuff. You are kind, fair, loyal, and have a high tolerance for the torments of the Slytherins. You're still here, aren't you?" She stretched and made herself more comfortable on the floor. "You're a Hufflepuff, but so is Ron Weasley, who is loyal to his family and to Harry since the beginning. Hermione might just as well have been a Ravenclaw. She would have had an easier time the first few weeks if she was. You will grow into your bravery, Neville. One day you'll see why the Hat put you in Gryffindor."
A few days later, it was time for the Gryffindor match against Hufflepuff, with Professor Snape as a referee. The man looked angrier than usual, as if the Quidditch pitch was the last place he wanted to be found at. Everyone was there, the whole student body. They were either there to watch Harry fly, or fall, depending on who you asked. Even Professor Dumbledore had shown up, which Rosaline knew must have calmed Harry down. Whoever it was that had endangered Harry's life the last time, would not do so again in front of Dumbledore.
"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time," said Malfoy, looking as infuriatingly smug as ever, "Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"
Ron didn't answer. Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because one of the Weasley twins had hit a Bludger at him.
"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" Said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money – you should on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."
Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy. "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.
Even though Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle burst out laughing, Rosaline was proud. Neville was finally standing up for himself, even if the execution was somewhat flawed and insecure. It took practice, after all, to be confident.
"Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."
"I'm warning you, Malfoy-," said Ron, whose nerves were stretched thin, "one more word -,"
"Ron!" Said Hermione suddenly, "Harry -!"
Everyone in their vicinity immediately zeroed in on the Gryffindor Seeker, who had gone into a spectacular dive, earning gasps and cheers from the crowd. He streaked towards the ground like a bullet.
"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" Said Malfoy.
"No," said Rosaline, not noticing how Ron had now tackled Malfoy to the ground. "He's spotted gold."
"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping on to her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape. The Potions professor had been looking the other way and when he finally did take notice of Harry, it was to see a flash of scarlet pass him. The next second, Harry pulled out of the dive, Snitch clasped in his hand.
The stands erupted. This had to be some kind of record. Harry had ended the game within five minutes.
"What -?" Rosaline had been kicked in the side by something. "Neville? What are you doing?"
In the row behind her, Ron and Malfoy were rolling around on the ground, trying to hit each other in the face. But Ron was obviously winning as Malfoy wasn't a very physical fighter. He'd normally have Crabbe and Goyle by his side for that type of thing, but Neville was distracting the two gorillas, by throwing a few punches of his own. As valiantly as he was trying to fight back, it was apparent that he would be knocked out cold by either Crabbe or Goyle in a minute, but he was fighting back nonetheless.
"OK, pigbrains," said Rosaline angrily, grabbing Crabbe by the ear and pulling him up. He was howling in pain, and let go of Neville, who was thrashing around on the ground. Trying to kick Goyle before, Goyle could kick him. Neville was now bleeding from several places. His eyebrow seemed to have split open and he had a bloody nose, plus a nasty looking scratch on his arm. "Let go off Longbottom this instant!"
Goyle was too far gone, punching the now unconscious Gryffindor repeatedly. "Oi, you want him dead, or something?" She kicked out her foot with incredible accuracy and hit Goyle straight in the nose with her knee, and the second gorilla fell backwards, clutching his broken nose.
"ROSIER-!" Came a shout. Rosaline looked up to see a pissed-off looking Snape storming their way, clearly looking for something to take his mind off Gryffindor's win.
Rosaline immediately let go off Crabbe and turned to Snape with an innocent look on her face. "Neville Longbottom is unconscious, sir, I was just trying to prevent my fellow Slytherins from becoming murderers."
"I expect a kilogram of Valerian root on my desk in an hour."
"But, professor -"
"An hour, Rosier!"
Rosaline growled in annoyance, stomping off to go get a sack from the greenhouses. The Valerian plant grew at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and there was more than enough of it to fill a sack with. But it was exhausting work, as she had to crouch and crawl the whole time. And the root had to be pulled from the ground in perfect shape. Once broken, the root's magical properties lessened considerably.
Her usual picking spot at the very edge of the Forest was nearly empty after all the times Snape had made her do this. There was no way she would get enough from here. So instead, she opted to walk a bit further into the Forbidden Forest. She had been gathering roots for about half an hour when she spotted a black-cloaked figure passing by her. He hadn't noticed her, for it was getting dark, and she had been low on the ground. But she had definitely noticed him. The walk alone told Rosaline that it was Snape, and that he didn't want to be seen. Naturally, her curiosity got the better of her and she tried to follow him silently.
Professor Snape was moving so quickly, he appeared to be running more than walking, and Rosaline had trouble keeping up. This really should have been a sign that following him was a bad idea. Eventually, they reached a clearing, where another figure was standing, trembling, looking around himself wildly as if expecting to be attacked. Quirrell.
He looked terrified as Snape advanced on him, and he was stuttering worse than ever, "...d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus...."
"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," Snape's voice was ice-cold, "students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."
Well, well, well, this was interesting. Another puzzle piece in the intricate mystery that surrounded the Philosopher's Stone.
"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"
"B-B-But Severus, I-"
"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step towards him.
"I don't know what you-"
"You know perfectly well what I mean."
"But I-I-I don't-"
"Very well," Snape cut in, "we'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie." He threw his cloak back over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was just Quirrell now, looking petrified.
For the first time Rosaline realised how young Quirrell was, he looked like was in only in his early twenties. Something seemed to be eating away at him, because, despite his young age, he looked haggard and too pale.
It took a few minutes for the shaking Quirrell to start moving again, and he did so quite suddenly. As if he suddenly remembered he was in a forest, surrounded by dangerous beasts. He all but ran out of the clearing. Rosaline waited for a bit, before following, hoping she wouldn't get caught.
Her mind reeled as she found her sack again and bent down to gather more Valerian root. She had to admit, things started to point more and more in the direction of Professor Snape being the thief. It did appear as though he had roped impressionable, emotionally delicate Quirrell to aid him, probably much in a similar way as Snape ordered Rosaline around.
All of a sudden, she heard muttering. Someone else was in the Forest. She knew she shouldn't have gone this deep into it, especially not to please Snape or get out of a detention. She tried to hide somewhere, as the muttering grew louder. Someone was approaching.
It was Quirrell, looking just as petrified as he did before. He was muttering softly to himself, seemingly panicked. Like he was debating Snape's offer. "He knows- " She could hear him whisper. "Snape knows - it's only a matter of time –"
Quirrell tripped and fell face forwards into the dirt. With a shock, Rosaline realised he had fallen over the sack, she had abandoned to find a hiding spot. Quirrell looked at his feet, studying the sack before quickly searching around him. "Who's there?"
Rosaline lowered herself further down, keeping her mouth tightly shut to prevent from breathing. Quirrell was now close enough he might hear her. After all, she could make out his panicked breath.
"Reveal yourself!" Nothing moved. Quirrell watched his surroundings for a few more moments before letting out a sigh of relief, "Probably left here by that gamekeeper." He then picked up the sack and looked inside, "Potion ingredients, how odd," he took some Valerian root out, and studied it. "I thought that favourite of his did these kinds of chores these days." He dropped the Valerian root back into the sack. "No matter," and then he took the sack with him out of the forest.
The strange thing was, he had not stuttered once.
Rosaline now had a problem. The sack was gone, the sky was dark, and she had run out of time to finish the task. It was not smart, not smart at all, to stay here any longer with all these strange occurrences happening, so she took her chance on Professor Snape maybe having cooled down enough to not give her detention, but just dock her first few House points.
When Rosaline finally arrived at the Potions master's office. She was freezing, covered in mud, and exhausted. She knocked on the door, "Come in," it sounded, and Rosaline dragged herself in. Professor Snape looked up from where he was grading essays to see the state in which Rosaline had now entered his office. "Rosier, why are you not holding anything?"
She blew a strand of hair away from her face. Her braid had come undone and was matted with filth. She decided to wing it, "I had been gathering the Valerian Root for a while, sir, I was nearly done, but it was getting dark and I lost track of time. I didn't know whether it was after hours yet. And I had gotten quite deep into the Forest, because I had already taken everything from the edge, when I suddenly heard voices. I got scared and I hid, but it was just Professor Quirrell and he took the sack with him, and now I don't have anything."
This seemed to catch Snape's attention, he must now have come to the realisation that he was not alone in the Forest with Quirrell as he had ordered her to be around that area as well. "Quirrell took your sack?" His voice cold, as though he didn't believe her. "What would Quirrell be doing in the Forest at this hour?"
Rosaline then took a very large jump, "complaining about you, apparently."
Snape's face darkened considerably, "What did you just say, Rosier? What did you see?"
"I saw very little," said Rosaline, "but he was muttering to himself. Said that you knew something, and that now it was only a matter of time, and then he fell over my sack," she brushed some of the now dried mud from her jumper, "Anyway, Professor, it wasn't my fault and as for Crabbe and Goyle, it was self-defence, sort of, and – "
"You are dismissed, Rosier."
"Really?" She said, eyes widening in surprise, "just like that? No detention, no points taken away -?"
"Get out, Rosier – "
"All right, goodnight, Professor."