Beta:

Some wanted a more descriptive torture session but that would require changing the entire rating of my story from T to M on ff and watty, and including additional ao3 warnings for just one chapter. So... sorry my friends but nope.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

I had returned to my dorm room at around five in the morning. I crawled into bed with Iris, burying my nose into the pillow and relishing what little sleep I could obtain. The sensation felt oddly nostalgic. I was reminded of the time I first crawled into bed after shadowing a fifteen hour surgery. The adrenaline of being allowed in the same room as the surgery drained away as I stood there for hours on end, watching the surgeon slowly cut into the body.

I had taken a shower before returning, scrubbing myself clean of any lingering evidence of what had transpired.

The blood had been washed from my hands, yet the smell still lingered in my head.

There was a knock at my door—my baby horntail model, Tsu, growled at the sudden noise—and I mumbled, "Whosthere?"

"It's Daphne."

With a half-ass wave of my hand, I magically unlocked my door and grumbled, "S'unlocked."

The door opened up and it was not only Daphne, but Theodore, and Draco as well. I sat up, blearily staring at them. For some reason Daphne had a bundle of stuff in her arms, as did Draco and Theodore.

"Come on," said Daphne. "Get dressed."

"Dressed in what?"

"Matching pajamas," she said crossly. "Come on."

I tugged off my shirt as Draco and Theodore politely looked away and instead began to set items around my room—magazines, catalogs, nail polish, hair ties, brushes, rubbish, empty plates, etc—and dumped stuff onto my bedroom floor. I got dressed in the matching pajama robes, noticing how Daphne wore the exact same ones.

Then in came Tracey, Pansy, and Millie—everyone wearing matching robes—and they all had a bunch of stuff in their arms. Within minutes my babeh snakes had transformed my tidy room into what looked to be a sleepover tornado.

"Someone want to explain?" I asked as Pansy crawled into bed with me and started to brush my hair. Tracey sat on the floor of my bed, grabbing my hand and starting to paint my nails.

"You had a sleep-over party," Draco told me.

I blinked. "Wait—wait—are you guys—"

"Hermione told me about Harry's detentions," Theodore said quietly. "Your outburst was... public. People saw you were upset."

They're making an alibi for me?

"So upset in fact, you came and confided in your best friends," said Daphne as she took my other hand and also started to paint my nails.

"We stayed up all night in your room," said Pansy. "Just look at this mess the elves will have to clean up."

My eyes burned, an onslaught of messy pride and gratitude making my stomach flip-flop. Teenage hormones amped everything up and it was a genuine struggle to not happy-cry. I sniffled loudly. "Awww."

"We're all very tired," mumbled Millie. "So tired we're going to be late for breakfast."

"Or maybe just order in."

I noticed their sleeping bags and blankets. My smile widened further.

"So we'll eat later, and this is the mess the House Elves will find to clean up to verify our stories if questioned," concluded Daphne.

"I love you all," I told them.

"We love you, too," quietly said Draco.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

(Harry)

To call Harry nervous would have been an understatement. After Rosie's outburst he had been shuffled away to the Gryffindor common room where the twins stuck by his side. His friends came in next, curious to why Harry refused to leave the room. They picked up on his anxiety, and in an effort to ease his mind they started to play some card games.

Dean Thomas and Alicia joined in later in the evening, then more and more students tagged in. They added three more decks and a dozen more participants.

It was a good evening, all things considered. Harry wasn't able to enjoy it, but he appreciated how hard his friends tried to make him feel better.

No one pressed for why he was so drained, or why he couldn't relax. Guilt clawed at him, eating away at his stomach and keeping him from getting any bit of rest. What little sleep Harry was able to obtain he had wretched nightmares of a dark place.

When morning finally came, Harry was caked in cold sweat and sick to his stomach.

The guilt wasn't as prevalent as before, but in its place was a cold detachment that sent shivers down his spine.

As he stared out the window in the shared dorm room, Harry Potter knew his sister had crossed a line.

There was no horror or anger to this revelation. The remnants of shame that coiled around his heart were not for his sister, but rather Harry's inability to take care of the situation himself. Had he dealt with Umbridge personally, Rosie would not have taken action.

Why didn't he? What held his hand back?

He hated her. He was not sad she was gone, nor did he feel anything close to pity over how miserably she must have suffered in her last moments. There was a clear dissociation from his emotions and to that fact. It impacted him about as much as the sky being blue.

Yet Harry could not do it to her himself.

He hated her—but enough to actually kill her outright?

He was not opposed to taking a life in a general sort of way. He had heard the horror stories of the previous war from Sirius and Remus. He knew his parents were not given easy deaths. He was told, repeatedly, that Voldemort would return and try to take their lives again. Harry had mentally prepared himself to fight Dark wizards to the death.

But in his mind he had anticipated a climatic battle—a clear side of who was in the right and who was in the wrong. Dolores Umbridge was an awful, awful woman but she was not someone who died in battle.

There was nothing glorious about it.

Murder was not... was not something Harry was comfortable with.

If she attacked him in a duel to the death, Harry would fight tooth and nail.

But what Rosie did?

Harry couldn't... Harry couldn't. He could not imagine himself ever doing such a thing, no matter how angry he was, or how much they hurt him.

Not... personally, at least.

Rosie could—Rosie did—and Harry did not love her less for it.

Was it because she was his twin?

No.

To be honest, if anyone else had done to Umbridge what Rosie likely did, Harry wouldn't even bat an eye. It was hard to sympathize with someone he detested. Even if he could not perform the acts himself, he did not think he would mind if anyone else did.

The only discomfort came from the fact that it was Rosie who committed the deed.

Harry wished she hadn't, but wishing came too late.

What did he expect?

He knew his twin like he knew the back of his hand. There was a reason he tried to keep it from her. Harry knew that the very moment Rosie found out what Umbridge had done, the professor's life was forfeit. The darkness inside Rosie was not something to be underestimated, even if she did a wonderful job keeping it hidden. Rosie was someone capable of doing terrible things, things that Harry Potter could not do himself.

Why didn't he stop her?

He didn't know. He wasn't scared of his sister. At worst, she'd Stupefy him, and at best she'd listen to him. In the heat of the moment, Harry lost all of his words. Confronted by the overwhelming malice and hatred in her eyes, he found himself unable to make a peep of protest. When she left, he could have—should have?—followed her. He should have talked to her, made her listen, calmed her down, done anything—

But he didn't.

Harry Potter let his twin sister cross the line and there was no going back.

Why? Harry wondered to himself.

He was slow in getting dressed for breakfast. His friends tried to talk to him, but he was mute and sullen as he brooded in his thoughts. He wished he had an answer. He wished his emotions could be clearly defined. He wished...

He wished Umbridge didn't come to Hogwarts at all. Then he wouldn't need to confront such confusing things.

Heroes saved the days. Heroes reached out a hand to the villains—

No, not quite, Harry thought as he remembered Lord of the Ring.

Some heroes were good. Some could reach out a hand to the antagonist. Some were not as clearly defined—they would rather kill their antagonist. Harry knew he wouldn't have made a good hero, but he always fancied himself someone who worked closely with the good guys.

But good people don't go around murdering others, Harry thought as he sat down at breakfast.

Then again, good people didn't torture students...

Murder is murder. Abuse doesn't justify taking a life, he thought. So why am I okay with it?

His eyes started to burn as he stared at the breakfast Hermione piled up in front of him. There was a lump in his throat that made it hard to swallow.

Am I a bad person? Harry thought, his heart sinking faster than a boulder dropped into the ocean. Is Rosie a bad person?

He hated thinking that. The stinging behind his eyes was unrelenting and he blinked furiously to keep those tears in check.

What do I do?

Harry didn't feel like eating breakfast, even though Hermione was insisting he ought to nibble on the toast at least.

And then a flurry of owls. The Daily Prophet fell into Hermione's lap as it did every morning. Harry morosely poked at the toast Hermione had buttered for him. Ron reached over and plopped some sausages on Harry's plate then comfortingly patted him on the shoulder

Hermione's gasping shriek drew his attention.

SURPRISE RAID AT UMBRIDGE HOME

REVEALS TORTURE FETISH FOR CHILDREN!

What the bloody hell? Harry stared in disbelief at the Daily Prophet headlines. How?!

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

(Rosie)

Breakfast was brought back to the dorm rooms—I was too tired to want to get dressed again and go to the Great Hall. It wasn't uncommon for wealthy older students to order their House Elves to bring them food during O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. years. Daphne had been the one to place the order and the food was delivered to each of us. Although I requested to eat alone so I could go back to sleep as soon as I was done. I was way too tired to deal with classes that day.

SURPRISE RAID AT UMBRIDGE HOME

REVEALS TORTURE FETISH FOR CHILDREN!

I choked on my tea.

A recent tip off to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement orchestrated a rapid investigation into Dolores Umbridge (previously appointed as High Inquisitor at Hogwarts and Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge). Aurors received an anonymous tip of someone being held hostage in Umbridge's home and immediately went to investigate. Dolores Umbridge was unable to answer their letters or floo calls, forcing them to enter without notifying her.

Upon entering they were astounded by what they found. We at the Prophet were able to obtain some pictures (see page 2) but must warn our readers of their unsavory context. Past her den there was a hidden room and inside was what amounted to a torture chamber—

I could not believe what I was reading. I literally could not even begin to fathom.

How? Why? What? How? WHAT?

I flipped through the pictures provided, gaping at the equipment seen and—

Wait a minute—that looks—Some of this stuff looks alarmingly like what was at Rosier's—

A gasp escaped me. I threw the paper down and dove for my vanishing chest.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

"Tom Riddle did you break into Dolores Umbridge's home and set up a torture dungeon?" I demanded as soon as I hopped out of the chest.

Tom casually took a sip of his tea. "Yes."

"Awww," I cooed, hurrying over to him. "May I hug you?"

"You may," he said, setting his tea down to open up his arms. "Given the situation, I thought a good cover story was in order. I hope you don't mind I used your contacts."

"Not at all," I said with an adoring smile as I squeezed him. "Thank you, Tom. Gosh. How did you even pull it off? I left here around five... right?"

"While you were in the shower, I sent in the tip to Madam Bones and Rita Skeeter as Enáretos," Tom began to explain. "Done with that, I gathered the supplies to use. I waited until you went back to Hogwarts then I headed out to Umbridge's home. Took about ten minutes to pierce her wards then thirty—or more?—minutes to set up. Aurors arrived shortly after I was done, along with Rita Skeeter. I asked her to make sure it would make the headlines by breakfast."

"That's amazing—how did you even find out where she lived?" I asked.

"I've been doing some independent investigations. Researching can become tedious if that's all I ever do," he said.

"That makes sense," I said, nuzzling into his chest. "Ahh. You smell so wonderful."

"Want a candle of my scent, too?" he sardonically asked.

"You and Hogwarts," I said, continuing to nuzzle, suddenly sleepy again. "You know I, um... I came here with a lot of energy but now I'm getting sleepy again."

"Then perhaps you should return to your dorm and get some rest."

"Yeah... good idea. Love you, Tom."

He smiled. "I know."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

To say things became chaotic would be a bit of an understatement. With Dolores Umbridge's disappearance Professor Snape was forced to temporarily cover both DADA and Potions. He detested the books we were forced to use, and so the lessons became strictly practical with Professor Snape demonstrating a spell and us practicing it against one another. He was particularly demanding that we mastered shield spells.

Aurors came to Hogwarts. First to question the professors, and then in the following days they would question the students.

That was the intention, at least. The very first day they came in to investigate and started talking to the students, well... hmm... Harry wasn't the only one Umbridge had given special... attention to, it seemed. When the Aurors found some students had scars on their wrists it incited public outcry. The Aurors couldn't exactly keep their mouths shut—especially when a few of them were actually parents at the school and their kiddos had scars on their wrists!

Oh gosh. I was in class so I didn't foresee the actual outcome, but I heard second hand that it was an explosive discovery. My contacts in the Ministry caught wind of the Aurors rushing and screaming into Bones' office what they had found out. Which was obviously over heard by some of the Daily Prophet's connections and it was all over the front page next day.

I wondered if Tom had something to do with the Daily Prophet's sources being within earshot of Bones' office. I'd be tickled pink if that was true.

After a quick sweep of Hogwarts to ensure Umbridge was no longer there (accompanied by the professors) there was a hard switch from "investigating her disappearance" to "seeing who else she hurt." Instead of Aurors questioning the students, Healers were sent in and offered their services for all students who had detentions with her. Dozens upon dozens of children came forward.

Rita was having a field day, especially once she got her hand on some pictures of those scars.

Public outcry transformed into rabid parental rage. There was almost a riot at the Ministry as a hoard of angry parents (and good Samaritans who did not tolerate child abuse) formed out front and screamed that Umbridge be brought to justice.

Fudge was quick to try and distance himself from Umbridge, claiming he had no idea she was someone so vile.

But darling, darling, Rita Skeeter had been paid handsomely to rip the Ministry apart every opportunity. She wrote article after article tearing into Fudge and the Ministry's interference with Hogwarts. She reminded everyone the last time the Ministry interfered with Hogwarts they put dementors on the school grounds; got a student tortured by a madman in the Triwizard Tournament; tried to sentence a child for using a Patronus charm in a dire situation; and now they placed a crazy witch who tortured students!

Oh, Magic, I wished I could have been a fly in the wall in Fudge's office when he read Rita's articles. I was told second hand that he fainted several times throughout the day from sheer stress.

The Ministry really couldn't refute such claims—they had too many witnesses and evidence to support them as facts—and it forced Fudge to bow his head in shame as he apologized to the public in a statement.

The Ministry withdrew any rules Umbridge previously set forth with Hogwarts, and promised the public to never directly interfere with Hogwarts again.

In a gesture of good will, the Ministry kindly helped Dumbledore find a replacement of his choice.

Meaning all of my international candidates got their visas within a week and the first one would start next semester. The rest were sent to Lunar's Orchid where Odette welcomed them with loving arms.

Glorious.

All within the first semester of fifth year.

Unsurprisingly, the Daily Prophet stopped making potshots at Dumbledore and myself, instead pouncing on the juicy scandal Tom had set up. Although Rita was delighted to remind the public how the Ministry repeatedly picked on us through the Prophet and straight up threw her journalist competitors under the bus.

Brutal.

It was not all good news.

Due to my spontaneous outburst a fair few (okay, a lot) of the students had strong suspicions I was behind Umbridge's disappearance. Rumors flew all over the school that the Slytherin Queen struck back with a vengeance with a variety of different reasons. The biggest support behind the rumors was one.) my public outburst and two.) I all the Slytherins has once again started to cater to me as soon as Umbridge left.

The details were unknown, but a lot of students agreed I had done something to "regain" my title.

One rumor was that I valiantly challenged her to a duel and when she lost she fled in shame. Another that I had hired an assassin for her. One that I poisoned her tea and buried her under the Whomping Willow. A rather popular one amongst the Ravenclaw students was that I had sent the tip about her home and blackmailed Umbridge into leaving Hogwarts. The most popular was that I dragged her down to the Chamber of Secrets and fed her to the monster.

Oddly none of them doubted that Umbridge had an actual torture chamber. Which... really said a lot about how they thought of her.

Some students were scared of me. Some students were in awe of me. Some thought it was all bullshit and didn't care.

I knew for a fact my name came up in a fair few of the interviews with Aurors, but I knew Bones had switched her investigation due to public demand. It wouldn't look good on the Ministry to claim a student had murdered Umbridge without significant evidence. Evidence that they could not obtain. Especially if that "evidence" was towards someone Rita repeatedly reminded the public that the Ministry had taken special measures to slander. And it was against someone so venomously hated by the public.

They really would have a riot on their hands if that "evidence" came into light.

Granted, that riot might be more so caused because I would incite it as my alias. It would be... painfully easy.

But too chaotic, and no reason to trigger it when things were working out well for me.

Anyway!

Most of the students accepted I played a hand in her disappearance, and by consequence a fair few of the professors did.

I hadn't been to all of my classes yet since shit hit the fan—I was a little nervous to meet with Dumbledore—but already I could see which professors listened to the rumors. Or maybe which professors had the best instincts.

Snape gave zero shits. Or if he did, he pretended otherwise.

McGonagall had a very pinched expression when she looked at me, and I felt her sharp gaze linger on me as if I were a dangerous animal that might lash out at any moment. I couldn't blame her considering that I was a very dangerous witch capable of some unsavory aspects. It was a little annoying at times to see her scrutinize me so heavily, but it was pretty cute seeing my babeh snakes glare at her when they noticed.

Sprouts thought it was hogwash, told me exactly that, and treated me no different. She even offered me a hug if I was getting too stressed out from the rumors. I gladly accepted the hug. I already mentally promised myself to get her an amazing gift when I graduated.

Flitwick was a little nervous. He tried to reseat me further from my classmates but Pansy and Blaise literally slung their arms over my shoulders and stared him down. He relented. I hoped he'd relax as the year went on and he realized I wasn't an unstable sporadic danger. I was a perfectly predictable type of danger.

I did get a couple letters from Sirius and Remus.

Remus wanted to make sure I was okay, and asked if Umbridge had hurt me. I reassured him I was fine, and he insisted if I needed to talk he would come down to visit me at Hogsmeade any time I wanted.

Sirius asked if I was okay, then asked if Umbridge hurt Harry.

I said I was fine, and told him that I couldn't comment on the Harry question (as I didn't know if Harry wanted to tell others).

His response was... brief.

By that I meant it was literally one line.

Love you, princess.

It made me wonder if he figured something out. Kreacher assured me Sirius hadn't asked Kreacher for anything, but maybe...

Well. If he wanted to talk about it, he would.

Honestly more surprised Dumbledore hadn't called me up to his office. I'd see him in Alchemy in a couple of days but I figured he wouldn't want to wait. Guess I was wrong.

As Hogwarts partook a dramatic week of escalating rumors, the Ministry was a time bomb that started ticking.

Word on the grapevine was that Fudge would not be running for re-election next year. Any alliances he had scorned him like a piece of rotting flesh. It didn't matter how much he claimed to not know how bad Umbridge was, everyone knew that Umbrdige belonged to Fudge.

I hadn't anticipated her downfall damaging Fudge's reputation so much. It was such a pleasant surprise to wake up in the morning and know that Fudge was guaranteed to be out of office by next year.

My original plan of swooping everyone up in one go couldn't work anymore—Tom's movement with Umbridge set off the catalyst. The focus was no longer around Voldemort, but rather how corrupt the Ministry had fallen. The public was scrutinizing the Ministry's every move.

All of my past scandals kept coming back in gossip columns and radio shows. All anyone could talk about was how the Ministry had repeatedly failed them, and how there were so many questionable people inside.

Things were brewing, boiling up to a bombastic explosion.

I had to make my move sooner rather than later now.

It was finally time to purge the Ministry.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

With the buzz around Hogwarts things were so chaotic that I hadn't had an opportunity to check up on Harry since the last time we had spoken. I needed to properly apologize to him for blowing up. No matter how upset I was, I shouldn't have raised my voice at him and he deserved an apology.

I sent a letter through Iris to him, asking if we could meet up in the Room of Requirement after dinner for some privacy. Iris came back with a note form Harry setting the time and date.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

We met up in the Room of Requirement, the space transforming into a cozy little living room complete with dozens of fluffy pillows and soft blankets. Harry silently sat on the couch beside me, every inch of him oozing exhaustion. He had bags under his eyes, and his messy hair was wilder than normal. His tie was crooked, and he kept fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves.

"Are you okay?" I asked with concern, reaching forward and gently running my fingers through his hair. He leaned into my touch, his eyes closing. "Are you having nightmares?"

"Just been thinking a lot," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry," I said gently. "I shouldn't have yelled at you—or scared you. No matter how upset I was, I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Harry did not respond right away. That was fine, it must have been a very scary moment for him. I wished he would forgive me, but that wasn't something I was entitled to. I hurt him, and he deserved however much time it took to heal from that.

"Am I a bad person?" whispered Harry.

The question threw me for a loop. I could only stare at him in surprise.

What?

The concept of Harry Potter being a bad person was... incomprehensible. It was the sort of thing that belonged in fandom AUs, not in the present Harry that had grown up in a loving home with a solid support network. I did everything I could to give him a joyful, loving, supportive home life. I kept my brother safe and happy as can be. My brother was one of the kindest people I knew. Why would he think he was bad?

Why—

Is it because of me?

The thought chilled me because it had not occurred to me. I was my own person, and Harry was Harry. I did not dictate his actions, nor did he control mine. Sure, I felt responsible for Harry, but how could I not? I practically raised him. Of course, I would be concerned if Harry did something morally apprehensive because I knew my Harry wasn't meant to be like that.

Harry was a good boy, through and through.

Why would he feel the need—?

Guilt wiggled in my head, invasive and unwanted.

"Harry... sweetie..." I pulled my brother into my arms and kissed the top of his head, trying to smother my rush of unease. "Why are you asking that? You're a wonderful person."

Harry did not respond for a minute. "I could have stopped you."

My heart stopped at that confession.

He's blaming himself?

"You could not," I disagreed quickly and firmly, wanting desperately to cut that thought process out of his head. Harry was not to blame for what happened—he was as far removed from it as possible. What I did, I did. My Harry was innocent. He had no reason to take on my guilt.

"I didn't even try."

"You were in shock," I soothed, holding him tighter.

What do I say? What do I say to comfort him? How do I take his pain away?

"Harry, oh my sweet Harry, it's okay. Whatever you're feeling right now—it's okay."

"I don't—I don't feel anything," he said, choking up. "I don't care what you did to her. Isn't that bad?"

"No," I said swiftly, keeping my voice warm and as affectionate as possible even as I started to panic. Why? Why was he taking this on? What do I do? What do I do? "Darling, no. She hurt you. You are under no obligation to feel sympathy for her. You are not obligated to feel anything towards anyone. How you feel is valid. What happened—What happened—" I fumbled for what to say, my thoughts spinning rapidly as I tried to come up with the right combination of words to soothe Harry. "—it's something that can't be taken back, and you might need time to process it. It's all very fresh. Above all else, though, please don't forget that it was my choice. What happened was done by me and you bear no responsibility to my choices."

"I could have told a professor," Harry mumbled.

"It wouldn't have stopped me," I said with a shake of my head. "If not that day, I'd have planned for another day."

"You don't regret what you did?"

"No," I said firmly.

"Why?"

"Why?" I repeated back slowly. Harry pulled away from me to peer at my dumbfounded expression. "Why should I?"

Harry opened his mouth then closed it.

"She made her choice to hurt you and others," I said. "If you hurt someone, you should be prepared to get hurt yourself."

"Are you?"

"Yes," I answered honestly. "I'm not claiming some moral high grounds or saying what I did was justifiable. I know it was extreme. I know it was not the right thing to do. But it doesn't change the fact that I would do it again. I—"

I closed my eyes, the sudden image of Lily's dying face flashing in front of me. I swallowed roughly, my mouth dry. "If someone cannot change for the better, I will get rid of them. It's that simple. I can't—I can't sit by again. I can't. If you—if you—"

It was hard to continue that thought. A rush of raw pain shot through me at the very thought of losing my brother. Harry was my darling boy. I had raised him as well as I could and I loved him more than words could do justice. I would die for him.

If I had—If I had to outlive my brother I would sooner slit my own throat.

That kind of extreme thought popped in my head, unwanted and cold. It might have been caused by my exhaustion which exacerbated my emotional state, or hormones. Or it might have been absolutely genuine. Regardless, I knew there was a lot I would do for my brother.

Not only out of love—for I did fiercely love him—but also out of respect for Lily who I could not save.

Harry I could protect. Failing that—failing that—failing that—

I trembled, my bottom lip quivering. "I can't lose you."

"You never will," he promised, eyes glistening. "But Rosie..."

"There is no line I am not willing to go over for you."

There was a flicker of realization in my brother's eyes, followed by dark grief. We were silent as Harry's expression slowly transformed from pain to bitter acceptance.

We both knew what I said was true. It had never been verbalized—never needed to be—but in the back of our minds we knew.

Harry's vibrant green eyes shined. For the first time in a long time I saw my brother cry. It was not because of some ghastly injury, nor because I had said something cruel to him. It was not a vicious word thrown at him, or some horrific trauma coming back to haunt him.

My brother was not upset for himself.

Harry Potter shed his tears for me, for his twin sister.

That hurt.

I did so much to keep him happy and safe, and yet I was the one to hurt him. Dinner from the previous hour soured in my gut. Someone wretched a jagged knife straight into my heart. Each tear that fell was acid burning into my skin, searing shame into me. The sacrifices I had made to protect Harry felt woefully inadequate.

I had failed in a way I had not anticipated.

"I wish there was," he whispered.

I smiled sadly at him, warm salty tears rolling down my cheeks. "I'm sorry."

He leaned forward, pushing his forehead against mine and closing his eyes. "I love you, Rosie."

"I love you, Harry."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

I laid in my dorm bed, Iris snoozing on my belly as I stared up at the ceiling.

Sweet Harry...

I wished I could find the right words to comfort him, but I didn't think there was anything truthful I could say to ease him.

I was... I was not a mom. I had never raised a child on my own, and I only had two mothers to draw upon reference. One who barely lasted a year and the other who made my life hell. I loved my brother so terribly much, and looking back on how I had done things—

It was plainly obvious I sheltered him. I bent over backwards to try and keep the injustices of the world from him, to shield and protect him from anything that would harm him.

How does someone learn to deal with a problem if someone else constantly fixes it for them?

He did not deal with Umbridge because he did not know how to deal with her.

I kept secrets from him. I lead a double life that he knew about, but didn't really know. The things I had already done, and what I would continue to do... had I told him, would he have been better prepared?

Would he have been more accepting of my actions, or would it have hurt him worse?

Would it have been better to show him a cruel world, and what I did to that world?

I didn't know.

I don't know.

I wanted him to be happy above all else, but at what cost? At what risk? By sheltering Harry, did I set him up for failure when confronted with evil? Or did I better prepare his heart by filling it with love? He was hurting now, but maybe that was only temporary...

What do I do?

I was not a good person. I was not a nice person.

Harry was a good boy. Harry was a nice boy.

Maybe... Maybe Harry would be better off without me?

If my choices were hurting him to such a degree, would it be better if he did not know about them at all? Ignorance was bliss—as proven by Sirius Black who was none the wiser to the things I did. I did what I could to help Harry get through his time at Hogwarts with as little scars as possible, yet in doing so I was still hurting him.

Once Voldemort was taken care of and there was no threat or looming prophecy... maybe it would be better for him if I left.

I would be the remaining monster in his life, after all. With my absence he could live freely without any guilt on his moral conscience. He did not need to know the things I would do, and he could carry on with a perfectly normal life.

He would miss me, surely, but in the long run...

Or would it be better to bring Harry into the fold?

The idea made me sick. I didn't want to drag Harry into the Dark with me. It would be one thing if my brother had shown signs or early inclinations to preferring such methods, but given how poorly he was reacting to the situation I didn't think that kind of life would suit Harry. Certainly not without a lot of reconditioning.

What would be better for him?

Would my absence help him?

It would kill me. My family was the reason I felt so many things. If I lost them, I thought for sure my world would turn to ash and monotone, but perhaps...

Perhaps not?

Maybe I could survive without them. Maybe I could still enjoy the taste of food and see vibrancy in the surrounding life. Lily and James taught me how to open again, and my family pushed me forward. I loved them as much as I could love anything.

Did I love them in the same way they loved me?

They were my world growing up, but now...

I had... I had friends. I had people outside my family who cared for me and who could also make me happy.

Tom made me happy. My snakes made me happy. My werewolves made me happy.

Did I need my family to be happy?

It stung—a sharp, prickling, freezing needle dug straight into my heart—but it wasn't overwhelming. There was pain, emotional agony, at the thought of not seeing my family anymore. I did not want to let them go. I did not want to stop being Harry's twin sister anymore than I wanted to give up my bucket list.

But if I truly loved them, shouldn't I be willing to let them go?

Love should be willing to sacrifice, right? Otherwise, it was just possession. I had thought I could go through any sort of trial for Harry's sake, yet that had only been when I thought he would be waiting for me on the other side.

Could I still go through it knowing he wouldn't be there?

Yes.

I could let Harry go.

No matter how much it sickened me, no matter how much pain it would put me through, at the end of the day if it was what would make my family happy I would do it. I closed my eyes, a tight suffocation wrapped around my heart. Heavy, unbearably hot, and cruelly painful. I curled into a ball, wrapping my arms around my legs.

I don't want to.

Even so I could see it. I didn't need to be Rosie Potter to continue my plans. I already had an established alias and plenty of funds. Faking my death would not be difficult, nor would disappearing from the public eye. I hated how easily the plan came to me. I hated how I could visualize the funeral with perfect clarity.

At least in this life someone would mourn for me.

Iris trilled, sensing my discomfort. She nuzzled into me, and I held her tightly.

I don't want to. I don't want to.

It was detestable. A horrible image burned into my head, irreplaceable and unforgettable. Each breath I took hurt as if a thousand claws were digging into my lungs. My stomach hurdled and tumbled, a sickening sensation as the pressure around my heart tightened to an unbearable level.

A hiccup escaped me. I couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

But if it's for your happiness, I will.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Extra:

"For the sake of the bet... who would you, hypothetically speaking, say won the bet?" asked Draco as he held up the betting sheet.

I looked over the answers, frowning at how violent some of them were.

"Hypothetically I'd say number seven."

There were whistles in the room.

"What a way to go," said Theodore. "I'll take my money now."

"You couldn't let her choke on her own blood?" complained Daphne. "Ugh. Why'd you let him win?"

"I'm efficient," I defended myself. "Hypothetically."

"Whatever," muttered Daphne. "Ugh."

ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

Dumble's and Rosie's interaction is in the next chapter as we continue with the aftermath.

I went outside over the weekend and got sunburned so bad my entire face is red and has started to swell this morning. My right eye is swelled shut. I will not forget sunscreen & hat next time hahaha.

Pro tip: if your burns are too bad slapping on regular aloe vera will make it worse. Who knew? Well, you would if you read the back which I did not. (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

Answer: See if I could get in contact with Fenrir Greyback and ask him if he'd be interested in teaming up to deal with her. Then tell Umbridge I heard Dumbledore's got a secret weapon in the forbidden forest in a full moon. Lead her in. Stupefy her from behind or anything to disorient her. Even if she survived the attack she'd be a werewolf. Considering how much she h a t e s them it'd be ironic justice.

Question: Your ideal best friend from the HPverse has planned a special birthday dinner / event—who is it, and what do they plan for ya?

Reviews are love!