For Rose Potter, the day began in the strangest way possible.
A loud knock echoed through the Gryffindor girls' dormitory just as the earliest light of dawn began creeping through the windows. Rose groaned into her pillow and pulled the blanket over her head, hoping whoever stood outside would understand that decent people did not start their day before sunrise.
Unfortunately, whoever it was had no respect for sleep.
The knocking came again, firmer this time.
Rose opened one eye and glared toward the door. The dormitory was still dim, and most of the girls remained asleep. Beside her, Hermione Granger stirred slightly but did not wake completely. Even while sleeping, Hermione somehow looked organized. Her blanket lay neatly over her, her pillow was exactly where it should be, and aside from slightly messy hair, she looked as if she had arranged herself properly before falling asleep.
Rose glanced toward her own bed and immediately felt judged by comparison. Her blankets were tangled around her legs, one pillow had fallen to the floor, and the other was half crushed beneath her shoulder. It looked less like a bed and more like the aftermath of a small battle.
Then her eyes drifted toward Lavender Brown.
Rose had to press a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing.
Lavender was sleeping upside down, with one leg resting against the wall and the other hanging halfway off the bed. A trail of drool ran freely down her cheek, and somehow she looked completely comfortable.
"How is that comfortable?" Rose muttered under her breath.
The knocking came again.
Hermione finally stirred properly.
"Rose..." she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "Who's knocking?"
"I'll check."
Rose climbed out of bed, still half asleep and already annoyed. She crossed the room quietly, opened the dormitory door, and immediately became wide awake.
Professor McGonagall stood outside.
Rose blinked at her.
"Professor?"
McGonagall was already fully dressed in her usual robes, her hair pinned neatly beneath her hat, and her expression serious enough to chase away any remaining sleep. Whatever this was, it clearly wasn't ordinary.
"Miss Potter," McGonagall said briskly. "I need you to freshen up quickly."
Rose stared.
"What?"
"You need to come with me."
That answer did absolutely nothing to reassure her.
"Where?"
"I will explain later."
Before Rose could ask another question, McGonagall turned and began walking away.
"Professor?"
"You have ten minutes."
Then she disappeared down the staircase.
Rose stood in the doorway for several seconds, staring after her.
"What in Merlin's name..."
She quickly closed the door and hurried back inside. By then Hermione was sitting upright in bed, fully awake and already wearing the expression she usually reserved for suspicious situations.
"What happened?"
"McGonagall."
Hermione's brows drew together.
"What does she want?"
"No idea."
"Where are you going?"
"No idea."
Hermione stared at her.
"That's not helpful."
"It isn't helpful to me either."
Rose grabbed fresh clothes and hurried toward the showers before Hermione could begin interrogating her properly. Fortunately, nobody else was awake yet, and the common shower room was completely empty. She washed quickly, dressed even faster, and returned to the dormitory within minutes.
Hermione remained in bed, though now she looked far too alert to go back to sleep.
"You sure everything's all right?"
Rose shrugged as she pulled on her robes.
"I think so."
"You think so?"
"Well, if I were being expelled, McGonagall wouldn't tell me to freshen up first."
Hermione considered that, then smiled reluctantly.
"Fair point."
Rose adjusted her collar and grabbed her wand.
"If I'm not back by dinner, tell Helios I died heroically."
"I'll try."
She hurried down the stairs and found Professor McGonagall waiting in the Gryffindor common room. A few early-rising students glanced up curiously, but McGonagall's expression discouraged questions. Rose immediately noticed that her Head of House carried herself more formally than usual, almost as if she were escorting someone important rather than collecting a student before breakfast.
They left Gryffindor Tower together.
Rose tried asking questions the entire way.
"Where are we going?"
"Why am I needed?"
"Is this about Voldemort?"
"Professor—"
"No."
By the time they reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office, Rose was thoroughly annoyed.
McGonagall gave the password, and the gargoyle moved aside. The spiral staircase carried them upward, and when the office door opened, Rose immediately understood that this was serious.
Headmaster Dumbledore was waiting for her.
But he wasn't alone.
Alastor Moody sat nearby with a cup of tea clutched in one gnarled hand, his magical eye spinning restlessly. Nymphadora Tonks occupied another chair, her hair a subdued shade of brown rather than its usual bright color. All three looked as though they had been waiting for her.
"Good morning, Rose," Dumbledore said warmly.
"Morning," Rose replied, though she did not sound particularly pleased.
She took the offered chair but did not relax.
"What's going on?"
Dumbledore smiled mildly.
"Would you like some tea?"
"No."
Moody snorted into his cup.
Tonks looked as if she was trying not to smile.
Rose folded her arms.
"What is this about?"
Before Dumbledore could answer, Tonks leaned forward.
"We need your help."
Rose looked between the three adults.
"Doing what?"
"We need you to retrieve something."
"From where?"
"The Ministry."
Rose blinked.
"The Ministry?"
Tonks nodded.
"The Department of Mysteries."
That sounded suspicious immediately.
Rose narrowed her eyes.
"What exactly am I retrieving?"
Tonks glanced toward Dumbledore but he remained silent.
Moody grunted and answered instead.
"Something only you can take."
Rose frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It's magically protected."
"Protected how?"
"Only you can remove it."
Her suspicion grew rapidly.
"What is it?"
No one answered.
Rose looked from Tonks to Moody, then finally to Dumbledore. None of them spoke. None of them even attempted to explain.
So Rose stood.
"No."
Dumbledore blinked.
"Rose?"
"I'm not going."
Tonks looked surprised.
"What?"
"If you want me to risk something for you, then tell me what I'm risking."
Moody rubbed a hand down his scarred face.
Dumbledore sighed.
"It is important."
"I know."
"It concerns Voldemort."
"I know."
"It may help us defeat him."
"I know."
"Then—"
"No."
Rose folded her arms again, and for a moment Moody was forcibly reminded of Sirius Black. There was the same stubborn set to her jaw, the same refusal to be moved by authority alone.
"I am not going anywhere until someone tells me exactly what you want me to retrieve."
The office fell silent.
Because all at once, every adult in the room seemed to realize the same thing.
Rose Potter was not a little girl anymore.
She was not going to blindly obey because a professor, an Auror, or even Albus Dumbledore asked her to. Not after everything she had endured. Not after being lied to, protected, watched, and used by people who claimed they knew what was best.
Dumbledore tried again, softer this time.
"Trust me."
Rose answered immediately.
"I do."
That seemed to surprise him.
"But trust doesn't mean obedience."
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
Finally Tonks exhaled and leaned back in her chair.
"She's right."
Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. For a moment he looked much older than usual.
Then he nodded.
"Very well."
Rose remained standing.
"It is a prophecy."
Her expression changed instantly.
"A prophecy?"
Dumbledore nodded.
"One concerning you and Voldemort."
The office seemed colder somehow.
Rose stared at him for several long seconds without speaking. When she finally did, her voice was quiet.
"You're telling me that lunatic came after me because of a prophecy?"
Nobody answered.
Rose let out a short, humorless laugh.
"My parents died because of a prophecy?"
Dumbledore's silence was answer enough.
Anger rose inside her.
She hated prophecies. She hated the idea of destiny. She hated people using mysterious words spoken years ago to decide the shape of someone else's life. And she especially hated the thought that her entire childhood, her parents' deaths, and Voldemort's obsession with her had begun because of some prediction.
"That's stupid," she said.
Nobody disagreed.
"All of this..." Rose gestured vaguely, her voice tightening. "Everything. Because someone made a prediction."
Tonks looked uncomfortable.
Moody stared into his tea.
Dumbledore looked as though each word struck him harder than the last.
Finally Rose sat down again, though the anger had not left her face.
"I still hate it."
"Understandable," Dumbledore said quietly.
"I think prophecies are ridiculous."
"Many people do."
"I think Voldemort is an idiot."
Moody actually chuckled.
"So do I."
That earned the first genuine smile of the morning.
It did not last long, but it was enough to break some of the tension in the room.
Rose looked at Dumbledore again.
"Fine."
The Headmaster lifted his head.
"Fine?"
"I'll help."
Relief moved through the office immediately, though none of the adults were foolish enough to celebrate too openly.
Rose raised one finger.
"But afterward, I want to hear the entire prophecy."
Dumbledore hesitated.
Rose's eyes narrowed.
"The entire prophecy."
Another long silence followed.
Then Dumbledore nodded.
"The entire prophecy."
Only then did Rose fully agree.
"Why do I have to be here at this unholy hour?"
Rose Potter's annoyed voice echoed through the nearly empty Ministry atrium as she glared at the enormous golden fountain in the center of the hall. The place felt strangely quiet compared to the bustling image she normally associated with the Ministry of Magic.
Beside her, Alastor Moody grunted.
"It builds character."
Rose turned toward him with a flat stare.
"Sleep builds character."
Tonks snorted with laughter. Rose immediately pointed at her.
"See? She agrees."
"I didn't say that."
"You laughed."
"Different thing."
Rose sighed dramatically and crossed her arms.
The three of them stood near one of the Ministry entrances, waiting for the official opening procedures to finish. Apparently even secret missions had paperwork attached to them. Worse, the paperwork operated according to business hours.
Rose hated paperwork.
She especially hated paperwork before breakfast.
To make matters worse, she barely recognized herself. Before leaving Hogwarts, Tonks had altered her appearance with magic. Her familiar red hair had become brown, her bright green eyes were now blue, and several small changes had been made to her face. Nothing dramatic. Just enough that anyone looking at her would see an ordinary teenage witch instead of the Girl-Who-Lived.
Rose poked her cheek suspiciously.
"This feels weird."
"It looks convincing," Tonks replied.
"I look boring."
"You look normal."
"Exactly."
Tonks laughed again while Moody rolled his magical eye.
"You'll survive."
Rose looked around the atrium once more. Despite the early hour, the Ministry was far from empty. Wizards and witches emerged from lifts carrying stacks of parchment, cups of coffee, and expressions of profound exhaustion. Others headed toward the exits looking as though they had just survived a week-long siege.
Rose watched them curiously.
"I never thought the Ministry worked all night."
Tonks raised an eyebrow.
"I thought everyone went home."
"If only."
Tonks shook her head.
"The Ministry never sleeps. Too many departments. Too many emergencies."
"Too many idiots," Moody added.
That sounded believable.
Eventually the official opening procedures began. Security wards activated across the atrium, additional guards arrived, and Ministry employees started flooding through the entrances. The quiet atmosphere vanished almost immediately. Conversations erupted everywhere, footsteps echoed across the polished floors, and the Ministry transformed into the chaotic machine Rose had always imagined it to be.
Hidden among the growing crowd, Rose and her escorts moved forward.
Nobody paid attention to them.
The disguise worked perfectly. To everyone else, Rose was simply another teenage witch accompanying two Ministry employees. Nothing unusual. Nothing worth remembering.
As they traveled deeper into the Ministry, however, Rose's curiosity slowly began giving way to unease.
The deeper they went, the quieter everything became.
The crowded hallways disappeared behind them. Fewer people walked these corridors. The walls seemed darker. Even the atmosphere felt heavier somehow. Employees who passed through the area spoke in hushed voices and moved with deliberate purpose.
Most unsettling of all, Tonks stopped joking.
Moody became even more serious than usual.
That alone was enough to make Rose uncomfortable.
Eventually they entered a section she had never seen before.
"The Department of Mysteries," Moody muttered.
Rose glanced around.
There were still hallways. Yet something about the place felt fundamentally wrong. Not dangerous exactly. Not yet.
Just wrong.
As though the entire department existed slightly outside reality.
A chill crawled down her spine.
Tonks noticed immediately.
"You alright?"
"Yeah."
But Rose wasn't entirely convinced.
The strange feeling remained. It sat in the back of her mind like an itch she couldn't scratch. The same sensation she sometimes experienced before a Quidditch match. Or before a dangerous encounter.
An instinct.
A warning.
Something was wrong.
The three continued onward through corridor after corridor. The Department of Mysteries seemed endless. Every passage led to another passage. Every door seemed identical to the last. The deeper they traveled, the stronger Rose's unease became.
Then they finally reached the circular chamber.
Rose stopped dead.
The room was enormous.
Black stone walls surrounded them on every side. Countless identical doors covered the walls from floor to ceiling. There were no windows, no decorations, and no clues as to where any of the doors might lead.
Just doors.
Hundreds of them.
"What is this place?"
"The hub chamber," Tonks answered quietly.
Rose looked around again.
"It feels creepy."
Tonks shrugged.
"If it didn't feel creepy, I'd be worried."
That was not reassuring.
Moody moved toward one particular door. His magical eye spun constantly, checking every corner of the chamber as though expecting trouble to appear at any moment. After a few seconds he seemed satisfied and pushed the door open.
"Let's move."
Rose followed without argument.
The next room was somehow stranger than the first.
Shelves stretched endlessly into darkness.
Thousands upon thousands of shelves.
Each one was packed with small glass spheres glowing softly in the shadows.
The sight stole Rose's breath.
"What is all this?"
Her voice sounded tiny compared to the vastness surrounding them.
Tonks answered quietly.
"Prophecies."
Rows upon rows of them stretched farther than she could see. Thousands of lives. Thousands of destinies. Thousands of predictions. All catalogued and stored like books in a library.
She hated every single prophecy stored within them.
Because somewhere among them sat the prophecy that had destroyed her family.
The prophecy that had brought Voldemort to Godric's Hollow.
The prophecy that had killed James and Lily Potter.
The prophecy that had shaped her life before she was even born.
Her hands clenched into fists.
Moody noticed.
"Easy."
The three continued deeper into the endless rows. They passed countless shelves and thousands of glowing orbs. Every step seemed to carry them farther away from the rest of the world.
Then, finally, they stopped.
A single glass sphere rested upon a shelf.
Tonks slowly pointed toward it.
"That's the one."
Rose stared.
Immediately the strange feeling returned.
Stronger than ever.
A knot formed in her stomach.
Something was wrong.
She couldn't explain it. Couldn't identify it. Yet every instinct she possessed screamed at her.
Leave.
Now.
Rose glanced at Tonks.
Then Moody.
Then back toward the prophecy.
Slowly, Rose reached out.
Her fingers moved toward the glass.
And somewhere deep inside her mind, a quiet voice whispered a warning.
The moment she touched that prophecy—
Everything was going to change.
Author's Note:
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