Blood ━ Harry Potter (1)

III. ENDURING EXISTENCE

CHAPTER THREE.
ENDURING EXISTENCE

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         Her hands continued to shake as she thought of the occurring events, past memories coming to mind sending shivers down her spine. Rosalie Allen, though she was only sixteen, had already seen so much. She had seen her mother's life pass, seen the glossy look in her eyes as she stared at her beautiful daughter, muttering about how proud she was, how great Rosalie was, before opening her hand and letting go. Then, she was dead.

She had seen more with her time in Voldemort's ranks. The deal toll had begun to rise, a simple spell and then dead...and she felt like it was her fault. All those deaths, the people she knew, the kidnappings, everything, Rosalie felt like it was her fault – that she was the reason it was caused.

But Dumbledore told her that it was for the greater good, that it was for everyone, and that her sacrifice would matter in the end. Sometimes, Rosalie believed him. Call it being naïve, young, but she wanted so much to be remembered – to not be nothing. Then there was the other time, when she was smarter, that she knew the history books wouldn't give her anything. Rosalie Allen was forgettable, another piece on the chest board.

"The real Harry!" she heard Mad-Eye from the other room, drawing her focus and feet back to them. "Where in the devil are you, anyway?"

"Here," she heard one of the many Harrys say. She blinked a few times, trying not to blur all of their faces together, but they all looked so similar. But, then again, they were the same person...physically.

"You'll ride with Hagrid," Moody told the real Harry Potter. Rosalie watched as the half-giant walked towards the boy.

"Brought yeh here sixteen years ago when you were barely bigger than a Bowtruckle. Seems only righ' I should be the one ter take yeh away," Hagrid, with sentimental thoughts, told the young boy.

Rosalie looked away from the scene. She had never had that type of moment, at least, not in a long time. The last time someone told her something with that much meaning, that much love, she had been six, and barely understood it. She was just holding her mother's hand, watching her slow breathing as she stared at her daughter with pride.

"Yeah, it's all very touching. Let's go," Moody broke up the little cry feast. And although Rosalie would never admit it, she was grateful for the man.

They all walked out, Rosalie standing with Kingsley, seeing as he was the one that rode beside her. She saw the thestrals, waiting patiently as the others got upon them before flapping their wings once or twice. She smiled, catching the attention of Remus Lupin.

"You can see them?" he questioned skeptically, and Rosalie nodded.

"Yes...my mother," Rosalie told him truthfully, though it wasn't the full truth, "I was only seven."

There was a moment where no one spoke, just held onto their brooms or creature in which they were riding, staring at the night sky as they prepared to fly.

"Good luck, everyone," Mad-Eye broke the silence, "On the count of three. One...two –"

But it didn't matter, they were off. Rosalie let out a smile as she flew beside Kingsley, not caring if he wondered why she would be smiling, but Rosalie loved flying. It represented freedom, ability to let go of all her problems and fly.

It was exhilarating, holding onto the broom and letting the wind bow in her face, fresh air around her, hitting her and trying to throw her off course. She could see Kingsley beside her, Mad-Eye out of the corner of her eye, but she wished she was alone. She wished she could experience this, probably the last time she would fly in such a long while, alone.