Soultied

 Twenty-eighth of August, 1995.

One o’clock, PM.

 Rosalie sat at her desk, drawing. To her, life was great. Toy Story had just premiered, and she was nearing her sixteenth birthday. What wasn’t there to love?

 “Rosalie.” Her mother had called her, from downstairs. “Rosalie, dear, can you come here a minute? You have a visitor.”

A visitor? Her mind raced with thoughts. If it was my friends, they’d just come up. Odd.

 “Coming, mam!” Rosalie closed her notepad, and rushed downstairs.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, she paused. A man was standing at the front door, his arms folded.

 “Uhm,” Rosalie looked at him, warily. He had to be in his thirties, at least. “Who are you, exactly?”

His cold expression didn’t change, and he said nothing.

Rosalie blinked. Well, that was just rude.

 “Come in, I guess.” Rosalie looked at her mother, and shrugged.

He nodded, entering. Rosalie shut the door behind him, and he watched her.

She looked at her mother, who was biting her nail.

 “Uh… this way, I guess.” He beckoned him into the living room.

This is so weird. Who the hell is this?

He lightly sat down on the armchair, when invited to do so.

 “Right.” Rosalie was watching him suspiciously, as she sat on the sofa. “Two questions. Who are you, and what do you want?”

He regarded her with a neutral expression, and finally spoke.

 “I am here on behalf of Albus Dumbledore.” His voice was a cold, monotone drawl.

 “Who now?” Rosalie frowned, and looked over at her mother. She was sitting still, frozen.

 “He is-”

 “I thought I told him not to contact us anymore than he already has.” Her mother was staring at him. “What changed?”

He watched her. “Recent events in the world have changed the way we see things. This is only for her safety.”

 “What?” Rosalie sighed. “What is going on, mam? You know him?”

She pressed her lips together, in a thin line. “I do not, but I know why he’s here. I’m telling you, she isn’t going.”

 “Going where? ”

The man looked at her, his lip curled slightly. “You are a witch.”

 “I beg your pardon?” Rosalie curled her own lip, in disdain.

His eyes flickered, an unreadable expression on his face momentarily. “A witch. I am here to tell you that you are accepted to and urged to attend-”

 “She is not going.” Her mother stood up, and pointed at the man. “You’re not taking her away from me.”

His expression was cold. “You do not have a choice in the matter. This is for safety reasons.”

 “Oh, what could possibly be threatening her safety? A magic wand?” Her mother glared.

 “A dark wizard, the reason you have custody of her in the first place.” His face was a look of hatred, which angered Rosalie. How dare he?

Then his words hit. What?

 “Can somebody please explain?”

Her mother looked at her. “Rosalie. He is a crackpot.”

Rosalie shook her head, slowly. “You know what he’s talking about. Explain it to me. I am fifteen years old, don’t treat me like a child.”

He sighed. “You are a witch, and you are urged to attend Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

 “What?” She blinked, and looked at her mother.

She wasn’t looking at her.

 “Mam?” Her mother avoided her gaze. “Mam, what is he saying?”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she sat down. “Rosalie.”

The man watched them.

 “Mam. Who is he? What is that place?”

 “Fine. Fine! You found us. Are you proud of yourself?” She pointed at the man, who said nothing.

 “Mam.” Rosalie stared at her mother.

 “Rosalie, you’re going to have to sit and listen very carefully, okay dear?” She took a deep breath.

 The year was 1981.

Lord Voldemort had just been defeated, and the world was content.

That is, all except one man in particular.

He had a daughter, who he lived with in the Death Eaters Headquarters. Now that the war was over, there was no need for a headquarters, and thus was disbanded.

Left with nowhere to go, the man turned to the only place he could think of - the muggle world. Nobody would find her there. Nobody would know of the witch that resided in her. He could ensure her safety, he could make sure she stayed alive, and had a roof above her head.

It pained him. Words could never express the pain he felt when he handed his daughter to his cousin. His daughter, who would never grow up knowing him.

His daughter, who would never be his daughter again.

 “You aren’t my mother?”

 “I- Rosalie.”

Rosalie stood up. “You lied to me. Why did you lie to me? Who the hell is my father?”

Her mother coughed. “Rosie.”

 “Don’t.” She pointed at her mother. “Don’t even try. Who is he? Where is he? Where’s my real mother?”

 “I don’t know who he is. Your real mother is dead. ” Her mother coughed.

The man continued to watch the interaction, his eyes flickering back and forth between them. He had leaned forward, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, with his fingers interlocked.

 “Mam - or, should I say, Mariah -” Her mother winced, but she ignored it, “I want to know the truth.”

She regarded her coldly. “I regret taking you in. You are insolent, malicious, and cold, just like your father.”

Rosalie stared at her. “What the fuck, Mariah?”

The man pressed his lips together, and Rosalie turned to him.

 “You.” He didn’t move. “Who are you, and where do you want me to go? Explain.”

He regarded her with mild interest.

She stepped forward, a finger pointed. “Now.”

 “Severus Snape. Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

 “ Potions? ” She shook her head. “You must be mental if you think I’m falling for that.”

His lip curled. “It would do you good to have manners.”

 “Oh!” She said, exasperated. “Oh, I’m sorry, I must give manners to a random man who enters my home and bullshits me about magic ? Oh, I’m so sorry!”

 “He’s not lying.” Rosalie’s mother , Mariah, was watching her.

 “Come again?”

 “He isn’t lying. Trust him.”

Rosalie turned back to him, a fire in her eyes. “Fine. I don’t have shit left to lose, at this point.”

*

 “Where are we going, exactly?”

She stood on the corner of the street, waiting for something , with the man, Snape.

 “Patience.”

 “You don’t tell me what to do. You aren’t my parent.”

He looked down at her. “I am soon to be your teacher. Patience and respect.”

 “Tch.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

He looked back up. “Ah.”

Bang.

Rosalie covered her ears. “What the fuck was that?”

 “Language.”

A bus seemed to magically appear, from thin air. “What in the everloving fuck?”

 “ Language .” He didn’t even look at her.

The bus doors opened, and he beckoned her to follow.

She walked onto the bus behind him, and her eyebrows raised. “It’s bigger on the inside.”

He nodded, idly.

 “Ah, Snape.” The driver nodded to him. “Who’s this, then?”

Snape looked at the man, coldly. “Hogwarts business,” he said, as he paid for their two tickets.

 “Sit.” He watched her.

She regarded him for a moment, and sat. He sat next to her, arms folded.

 “Where are we going?”

He ignored her.

She turned to him, properly. “Where are we going, Snape?”

 “ Professor Snape.”

 “You aren’t any teacher of mine yet.”

He seemed to be more annoyed by the second. “You remind me of a student I have the absolute misfortune of teaching.”

 “Yeah?” She raised her eyebrows. “Alright, mate.”

He gave her a withering look. “You are in the same year. I am sure you’ll figure it out.”

 “Oh, wonderful.” She rolled her eyes, sarcastically. “Can’t wait! Really, I can’t.”

He stared at the ceiling.

 “Where is this place, by the way?”

 “Scotland.”

 “Uhm.” She blinked. “This is Wales. What about my friends?”

 “Unless they go to Hogwarts, you won’t see them during term time.”

She scoffed. “This is a scam. I want to go home.” She paused, and her lip curled. “On second thought, that place sucks ass. Where are we going?”

He put his face in his hands.

Bang.

Rosalie fell against the window. “Gah. What the fuck was that?”

She looked at a street sign. “Are we in fucking England? What the fuck. So magic is real? Is this just some elaborate fucking prank?”

 “Watch your language.”

 “You watch your attitude,” she said, checking her nails. “You’re annoying me.”

He turned to her, seethingly. “If I had the choice, I’d leave you on the street right here and right now. If my job weren’t on the line for it, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

 “Well, ain’t you just a ball of sunshine?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m pulling your leg, innit? Don’t be an ass.”

He sighed, deeply.

Bang.

 “What the fuck. Is this London or some shit?”

 “Yes.”

 “Oi, Snape.” She frowned at him.

He sighed. “ Professor Snape.”

 “Like I said, you ain’t no teacher of mine. Where are we going?”

 “Stop talking. Please.”

She grinned - her plan had worked.

 Upon exiting the bus, Rosalie was far more fascinated by an ugly building in front of them.

 “Who names a place The Leaky Cauldron? ” She rolled her eyes. “That’s embarrassing.”

 “In.” He opened the door, and they entered the building.

Once inside, she found a few eyes on her. She regarded them with mild interest.

 “Severus.” The bartender bowed his head briefly, in respect. “Who might this be?”

She cut in, before he could speak. “Rosalie,” she said sweetly, with a smile.

The bartender looked between them, his eyebrows raised slightly. He opened his mouth to speak.

 “Hogwarts business, Tom.” He gave him a weird look, and he nodded.

 “I see.”

Rosalie’s lip curled as they walked away. “Who names a school Hogwarts ? That’s embarrassing.”

They came to a wall.

 “This it? A wall? This your school, Snape?”

 “Shut up.” He tapped the wall a few times, with a wand .

Wand.

 “Is that a magic wand? Are you a wizard or something, then?”

 “Yes.”

Rosalie sighed. “You’re boring. Do you ever smile?”

He gave her a look of disgust. “Do you ever stop talking?”

She smiled. “No.”

 “If I could be anywhere in the world right now, I would choose here last.”

The bricks started to move .

Why the fuck is the wall moving around?

 “Magic is funky.” She sighed.

He ignored her, and walked through the hole in the wall.

She followed, and paused.

 “What the fuck.” She stared around at the street. “Where are we?”

 “Diagon Alley. You need school supplies,” he said shortly, and walked.

She groaned, following. “Are you ever nice?”

 “Are you ever tolerable?”

 “Do you have manners, or do you expect them served to you on a plate?” She quipped.

He didn’t look at her. “I could ask the same of you.”

 “Nah. I’m nice to people who didn’t make me lose respect by being dicks.”

 “Language.” They had arrived at a bookshop.

 “Books.” She looked around.

He looked at her. “Judging by… yourself… I’d be surprised if you knew what a book even was.”

She curled her lip, brows furrowed. She looked him up and down. “I don’t wanna hear it, Snape .”

He sighed, deeply.

Rosalie followed him around the shop, as he picked up books written on a list.

 “I’m bored.”

 “I do not care.”

She tap danced behind him, as she followed. “I am incredibly bored.”

 “If you say that one more time, I am going to hex you.”

 “Wow. Threatening a minor? Prison for you, Snape.” She tap danced around him.

He glared at her.

A few minutes passed, and they exited the shop.

 “Snape.”

He glanced at her. “What?”

 “I’m bored.”

He looked like he wanted to cry.

 Once they had finished shopping, Snape seemed at his wit’s end.

 “I’m hungry right now.”

 “I don’t care.”

She rolled her eyes. “What were you paying with?”

 “Money.”

 “Not my kind of money, though.” She frowned. “Can I like, exchange or some shit? I’m hungry and you aren’t buying me food.”

To her surprise, he sighed in defeat. “Fine. You will simply go on about it, so fine. I give up.”

She danced around him. “Yeahhh.”

 “I regret my decision already.”

 “No taking backsies!” She grinned.

She followed him back to The Leaky Cauldron.

 “Do they do normal food here?”

He ignored her.

 After she had eaten (the food wasn’t that great, in her opinion), she stared at Snape.

 “What now?”

He looked up from his newspaper, irritated. “What?”

 “Where are we going now?”

He sighed. “You are staying here until term starts.”

 “When’s that?”

 “The first of September.”

She blinked. “That’s in three days .”

 “I can count.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. At least I can dress well.”

He put the newspaper down, annoyed. “You dress like a child.”

 “I am not a child, thank you very much. I am nearly sixteen.”

 “I am well aware. It is in a few months.”

Rosalie narrowed her eyes. “How do you know my birthday? You stalk me or something?”

He coughed. “No. I am required to know, as your teacher.”

 “ Future teacher.”

There was a pause.

 “Are any of the teachers hot, or are you all greasy?”

He glared at her. “I am not greasy, you insolent brat.”

She tilted her head. “I dunno, you could use some shampoo. Borrow some of mine if you like.”

 “Ughhh.” She put his head in his hands. “I am going to lose my sanity. God damn you, Albus, for making me do this.”

 “That the headmaster or something?”

 “Yes.”

Rosalie frowned. “That’s an old name.”

 “He has… been around for a long time.”

 “How long?”

He paused. “Over a hundred years.”

Rosalie choked. “ What ?”

He regarded her for a moment. “I had the same reaction. Realised at your age, if I remember correctly.”

 “Ew. Did he teach you, too?”

 “Yes.”

 “Poor him,” she said, playfully.

He looked as though he wanted to strangle her.

 “What about my stuff, then?” She smiled at him.

He snarled. “Arrangements have been made. They are upstairs.”

 “Oh.” She shrugged. “Thanks.”

*

 Thirtieth of August, 1995.

Eight o’clock, PM.

 She had been left to explore Diagon Alley for the last few days. After Snape had taken her to exchange her money (he called it “muggle” money - apparently that’s what non-magical people were called), he had vanished.

She wasn’t upset about this. Her “mother” had been a bitch to her for years, and now here she was, free. Free! In a whole new magical world, nonetheless.

What had really caught her eye were the broomsticks. She obviously couldn’t fly on one, but watching the “pictures” (they were videos, as far as she was concerned) made her want one so badly she just… bought one. Why did she need to keep her money, anyways? She had enough.

 “Nimbus two-thousand-and-one, huh.” She sat on the bed, admiring it once again. “Not the latest, but my God you are one beautiful specimen.”

Rosalie had been on the sports teams in her secondary school. She fully intended on continuing to play - even if the sports looked like flying rugby on crack.

Left with nothing to do, Rosalie took out her sketchpad and started drawing.

She drew a girl on a broomstick. She drew a few shapes, clouds, and an influx of triangles.

 “I am bored,” she said, to nobody. “This is shit. Where’s my radio?”

She groaned, throwing herself into her pillow. “Fuck this, early night.”

She lay there for a while, until she fell asleep.