Rose Evans and The Scroll of Life [HIATUS]

I.I~I.V

P R O L O G U E
The Baby On The Steps

It was late at night in the small London alley; the fog swirled in spirals around the young woman hurrying down it. In her arms she clutched tight a bawling baby wrapped in a soft yellow blanket. She looked down at it and cooed, though her face was lined with worry and stress.

"Oh, you look like your father," she said, brushing the unkempt ginger hair off its forehead. She kissed her fingers, placing them on its forehead, and it waved its tiny fists. "Except your hair color — that's mine. Although—" she stifled a laugh "— I'm sure it will be every bit as messy as his."

She continued hurrying forward, looking furtively from side to side, with the look of a woman who was doing something she did not want to be caught at. The baby fussed in her arms, hungry for milk, but she continued forward. The alleyway was completely deserted when she stopped at a set of stairs reaching up to a decrepit wooden door. Her eyebrows pinched together as she looked down at the baby, and sat down on the steps.

"I'm sorry," she said, and there were tears threatening to spill in her eyes. "I — I don't know what I'm doing, but — " She rocked the baby in her arms. "I am so sorry. I'm only nineteen. I'm not ready for this."

She smiled wanly at the memories of the cold, blinding terror she had felt upon realizing she was pregnant, of the difficulty of the magic she'd done to hide it, of the sneaking out late at night to the hospital. Then she looked down at the baby, and her smile vanished. She leaned down and kissed its forehead.

"I am so sorry," she said again, choking back tears. Digging in her pocket, she pulled out a envelope, sealed with a lily sticker. Scrawled on the front was the name "Rose Evans". She placed it on top of the still-squalling baby, letting the tears fall out this time.

"What am I doing?" she muttered to herself, taking the baby off her lap and putting down on top of the steps. Then she stood up and stepped away. "Good-bye, Rose. I'll come back for you," she promised. "In a couple years."

And with that, Lily Evans turned on her heel and Disapparated into the dark, tears still streaming down her face as she gave away the baby nobody knew she'd had.

C H A P T E R O N E
Professor McGonagall

Just near ten and a half years had passed since Rose Evans had been found on the doorstep of the orphanage by Ms. Flint. She had blossomed into a pretty, vivacious child, with big, brown eyes and the messy ginger hair her mother had predicted she'd have. Rose, as a rule, was always happy and positive; doing so had helped her through many hard years, for, although Ms. Flint tried, growing up in an orphanage, knowing your parents hadn't wanted you, was a rather bleak living.

Rose's prized possession was the letter her mother had written when she was dropped off on the doorstep, and, on the bleary Thursday our story started, she was sitting on her bed, re-reading it by candlelight; her lips mouthed the words which she knew so well.

My dearest Rose, this letter, although half-intended for the matron of this orphanage, is written for you. You are my illegitimate baby, Rose, and I am very, very sorry for dropping you off here. Do not despair, my dear Rose, I shall come for you. Keep a happy face, for you are my Rose, thorns or not, and we shall find each other eventually.
Forever your loving mother,
-Lily

Rose half-smiled as she finished the letter. She had written "Rose" 4 times. Although her name had been written many times, those four were the most precious, the most special. "She's coming," Rose told herself as she stood up, stretched, and prepared for the day. "Someday."