New story I'm completely excited about. This is just a prologue - the rest of the chapters will look a whole lot different. Also: new poll on my profile!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe, J.K. Rowling does.
My name is Rose Weasley.
I am seventeen years old and part of one of the most famous Wizarding families in history of Britain. I am filthy rich, ridiculously intelligent, maybe even quite beautiful with flaming locks and almond-shaped eyes, blue in a way that has never struck me as particularly bright or dark. For each real friend I have ever made, I have found thirty times as many acquaintances. For each rejection I have ever gone through, I have bestowed twice as much heart ache on others. Everything I am supposed to want, has always been at my disposition.
I was always supposed to be happy.
But for years, I was not.
Truth is, this might be hard for you to understand. Because in all probability, you're one of those people facing real, visible problems. Like, maybe the love of your life is marrying someone else. Or your family is going bankrupt. Or you just find yourself tremendously bad-looking and there's nothing you can do about that damned crooked nose or overly large mouth or funny ears.
When I was entering my last year in Hogwarts, I had none of those problems.
In fact, I didn't have problems at all.
I guess I was just bored. Restless – like something inside of me was itching to get out. I felt like I was destined for something more – something that was not what I was doing then.
Perhaps if I tell you about my parents, you will at least get the gist of it.
When my mother started attending Hogwarts – about a hundred years ago, give or take – there was no doubt in anyone's right mind that she would become a brilliant, magnificent, powerful witch. Each year in a row, she came out on top of her class, earning ten O.W.L.s in her fifth year and God knows how many N.E.W.T.s in her last one. Unsurprisingly, she managed to brew a Polyjuice Potion when she was only twelve, successfully hiding this from everyone but her two accomplices. Only one year later, professor McGonagall voluntarily gave the girl a Time-Turner – a highly unattainable, not to mention dangerous object – to facilitate her organising her class schedule (because, extraordinarily smart as she is, she found it necessary to be a major freak and take more subjects than humanly possible). In her fourth year, she founded what she would later expand when she landed her first job at the Ministry, the 'Society of the Promotion of Elfish Welfare', even though everyone else (all the sane people) couldn't care less, and house-elves themselves least of all.
And that was only the first part of her career at Hogwarts.
In sixth year, she became extremely skilled at nonverbal magic – which is, of course, phenomenal. She knew how to produce a Patronus, was a Duelling expert, knew tons of charms, was able to Transfigurate any object without the slightest effort, studied Arithmancy and Ancient Runes and excelled in it.
And yet, I can deal with all of the above.
Given the opportunity, I would probably be able to do the same.
What I cannot outshine, however, is that my mother saved the world.
Yes, indeed. She did. Together with my father and my uncle, the woman saved the Wizarding World. The three fought epic battles, had mind-blowing, frightening confrontations with the darkest wizards of their time, searched for Horcruxes on their one, rightfully afraid to die during every step of the road.
They have seen death – and they kept fighting back, year after year, culminating in the Battle of Hogwarts, where Voldemort, the most soulless monster in history, reached his end by the hand of my uncle, with his stupid hair and his silly glasses.
The three are even featured on Chocolate Frog cards.
Imagine opening one of these cards and looking at your Dad's idiotic grin, your Mum's judgemental expression, or your uncle's unkempt appearance.
Not too awesome, really.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that – if I tell you my name, the first thing that will spring to your mind are my parents. And that's fine, you know. It makes sense. It makes all the sense in the world. Bloodshed, victory, massive lows and incredible highs – it all added lustre to their lives, lives that would've been uneventful if the context hadn't called for it. They were the right people at the right time, and they became a legacy, each of them a tasteful ingredient for a recipe of inspiring history. People feed on their story, hungrily worming their way through each chapter of each book ever written about them, telling the tale to their children when it's time to go to sleep, so they can dream about the nobility that is Harry Potter, or Hermione Granger, or Ron Weasley.
For me, of course, everything is different.
First of all, I realise these three are actual people, with actual flaws.
Second of all, I am the one unable to do something world-shattering, because everything I try pales in comparison to their adventures.
I suppose that my entire life has been a quest to distinguish myself – to prove myself, not to them, but to me. Because I am special, and I am capable, and there is so much more in me than the equation of my parents. I have been searching for ways to accomplish something – something that would not send a message to the world but to myself, that I am worth writing about too, with or without my family connections.
And maybe that's not good enough for you – like nothing has ever felt good enough for me.
But it's an explanation for what I did during my seventh year. It was the fundamental issue that had been brewing beneath the surface when I, after years of detention and forbidden trips to the forest and library at night, was stupid enough to join something that would change me irrevocably, even though that choice never seemed morally correct.
I, Rose Weasley, daughter of two war heroes, joined the Equinox Society because I had absolutely nothing better to do.
And then I paid for it.
This is my story.