Magic's Heir| A Harry Potter Fanfiction

|8 NEW

Nauthiz

:turmoil:

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AS THE SUN ROSE, casting the grounds in a rich copper, Rose Granger-Weasley was up in arms.

She had gone to sleep well enough the night before, despite suffering a terrible defeat in Wizarding chess, wherein her White Knight had relinquished his lance, renounced his duty and galloped off the board into the cavernous space beneath her bed to die a noble death.

Come morning, she was anything but amicable - her wand, the blighted thing -  had run away. Granted it lacked the required appendages to do so and, by all accounts, shouldn't have been able to get too far, but after a double-take, Rose was sure it no longer laid on the bedside table where she'd put it.

The obvious conclusion was abduction, her sole suspect, for all obvious reasons, James. Given how he knew just what to do to bypass McGonagall's wards, he easily could have accio'd it into his possession and then from there? The possibilities were endless. Bury it deep in the lake, enshrine it in one of the spiders webs out in the forest, place it in the Room of Requirement alongside the hundreds of lone socks students had lost over the decades.

A sigh wheezed through her teeth and with a flurry of arm jerks, she flung her comforter into the air, catching a corner on one of her bed posts. It hung limp and lifeless, and no wands clattered to the floor. Her sheets were similarly wand-less, and aside from a few crumbs, a tube of strawberry-flavoured lip gloss and discarded Bertie Bots, there was nothing on her bed.

She sighed, again, hands on her hips, staring down hard at her bed, as if doing so might make her wand materialize out of thin air. Short of a miracle, that was impossible. Still, she clung to hope, as the alternative -- writing home to inform her parents of losing her wand, the second time this year -- was frightful.

A shiver ran down her spine as she thought about the shrieking reply she'd get and the grounding. Not to mention all the hours spent listening to her Mum lecture her about responsibility.

Ugh.

She needed to find her wand, and fast.

Pesky bugger.

Her search covered every inch of the dorm. She checked underneath her bed, where she kept the things that mattered the least. School things, like quills and ink pots and parchments that'd begun to mold.

In a corner, she had a stash of letters from her professors, former and current, written to inform her parents  of all Rose's 'failures.' Failures to adhere to the dress code (she couldn't help it if she looked great in crop tops and mini-skirts). Failures to follow the code of conduct (she had not been told fireworks were banned on school grounds, thank you very much). Failures to show up to class (it wasn't her fault it fell so low on her list of priorities). And one failure to not incite a riot (a harmless, little, no big deal riot).

All of it, their words, their complaints, was just a fancy, roundabout way of saying Rose wasn't like her Mum, and showed how her teachers wished she had been.

She moved from her bed, to her closet, inspecting her clothes. Jeans and t-shirts for casual, non-Wizarding outings. Sequined tops, and minis for special occasions. A dozen basic black robes for class and a pair of fine dress robes each a soft pink with lace detailing on the sleeves and rose-shaped buttons down the front.

In the deepest, darkest depths of her closet, Rose kept all Grannie Weasley's homemade monstrosities - red and yellow jumpers with large and thorny 'R's stitched on their fronts. She figured if she kept them out of sight, they might, eventually take the hint and apparate away.