Rose.

Prologue

I wasn't there when it happened. I was with a family friend. Of course, I was three years old at the time, I had no idea as to what had happened, why people were panicking and crying yet some were celebrating, to be perfectly honest; I don't remember anything from the 31st of October, 1981.

I was raised in a humble home by a man called Albus Dumbledore, however, for my early childhood years I called him dad. It wasn't until my tenth birthday that I found out I was adopted and discovered my true heritage and learned of the tragic events that happened to my biological family. That was the hardest day of my life. I felt betrayed; the man who I thought to be my father had lied to me, about many things. I was consumed by grief; death and loss is a hard thing for a ten year old to cope with, I had lost my real father and my mother and was not able to contact my little brother, who had grown up in a muggle home without his mother and father. Yet, the worst of it all, I felt guilty, I had never had a mother, so I felt the loss of my real mother as I had always craved to feel a mothers loving embrace. But, I did have a father, I had Albus, and so I wasn't as upset about my biological father's death as I should have been and I felt so horrible and the guilt was eating me from the inside, slowly destroying me. I mourned for a long time, this I remember, the darkness of my room, the silence as I refused to talk, the voices in my head saying I was an awful child for not feeling the loss of my biological father. I finally told Albus why I was feeling so horrible and he knelt down, blue eyes sparkling behind half-moon glasses and told me: "No one would ever blame you for feeling this way, you had no way of knowing about your real parents and that, my dear Rose, is my fault completely. Your mother and father would not blame you either, they were compassionate and loving people, and I am sure that they are looking over you, and after you, as well as your brother."

Before that day, my life had been quite normal, I had grown up with magic in my life, a loving father, my Uncle Severus, who always looked at me with love and a small grin on his face. I had two best friends, Fred and George, mischievous twins that were my partners in crime when it came to pranking.

However, after my tenth birthday, Uncle Severus came around more often and began teaching me Occlumency, the art of resisting external penetration of the mind from outside forces. His lessons took their toll on me, and I was often left drained, too exhausted to do anything. I overheard Uncle Sev and Albus talking one night after a lesson, and Uncle Sev was complaining that I was much too young for Occlumency, Albus remained firm, saying it was necessary for the future and I should begin early, yet he apologized each time I came out of a lesson looking like I had run a marathon, I just smiled though, because I loved him and trusted him, I knew he wouldn't put me through this type of torture without a good reason. Although, I believe it is fair to say that things turned dramatic from then on. Uncle Sev and Albus decided to tell me about Voldemort, a dark lord who had been vanquished when he attempted to attack my brother, yet they also informed me that he could and would rise to power again and then my brother would be in terrible danger.
I was ten years old. Ten years old when I discovered the pain of losing loved ones, I was ten years old when I learned that evil existed in the real world and not just fairy tales.
I was eleven years old when I received my Hogwarts acceptance letter.
That was when the fun began.