There once was a girl.
She was sweet like a baby.
But you fucked her up.
Made her think she was crazy.
I'm that girl.
But I look different lately.
Cos now I'm a monster.
The monster you made me.
- Chloe Adams.
Magical Luck has changed, Magical Luck...
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So they came into the outway It was Sunday, what a black day Every time I tried to find him There were no clues, they're behind him And they end up never knowing Who's the suspect or what to expect Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation Sounding heartbeats, intimidations
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Everyone around Rosalie slept soundly, dreaming of the easy life, but she wasn't dreaming, she was wide awake, sitting on the windowsill, on her lap is a photo album filled with photos of James her dad and Lily her mum. She had wished her mum and dad a goodnight, when she looked at the stars, remembering that someday she would find them, see them again. It wouldn't be for a long time of course, but Death was teaching her a fun spell. Closing the photo album, she tiptoed over to her trunk placing her album away, she was just about to go to bed when she picked up an unusual sound. Spinning around she listened closer, turning to see everyone else still asleep she heads towards the sound, was that a stupid idea, yes... for a mortal of course. But not for her.
Now in the common room she hears the faint sounds of footsteps make their way to the boys' dorms, using her vampire speed she races up the stairs, avoiding the spell that would send her back down the stairs. There she finds a ragged looking man standing in the middle of the common room, a knife in hand. She watches as he approaches the bed Weasley is sleeping in, she would have let him kill Weasley but, that was her innocent uncle. So, she goes over and grabs the man and running them out of the room. The pair appearing in an empty dorm. The man struggles against the tight grip only for the grip to disappear. "What are you doing?" The girl asks. "Uncle Padfoot, what are you doing?" The girl asks adding a softer note to her words.
The man freeze's hearing the familiar name, hearing 'Uncle Padfoot' sent his brain running, turning to face the person, his eyes focus, and he sees, her, all grown up, but with her beautiful blonde hair, like Niklaus's. "Rosie?" He whispers the knife clattering to the floor. "My little Rosie? Is that you?" He questions taking her face in his hands.
