Rosalyn had received a letter the next day, from Dumbledore. It told her that he wanted to see her, and her alone, that evening.

She knocked on the door of his office at that moment, having just ascended the winding staircase. She opened the door, peeking inside it, before hearing Dumbledore's voice. "Ah, Rosalyn, you got my message, come in."

She opened the door fully, walking into the office properly. "How are you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Fine," Rosalyn answered, but, really, she wasn't. After all the drama with Neville and Hannah, it was hard to feel anything but annoyed or sad.

"And how are all your classes? I hear Professor Slughorn is very impressed with you."

"I think he overestimates my abilities, to be honest, Sir," Rosalyn said, smiling sheepishly.

"And what about your activities outside the classroom?" Dumbledore pressed on. "You and Harry are getting along very well, these days, I hear."

"Yes," Rosalyn grinned. "I mean, we have Ron and Hermione, but I'm glad that we have each other."

Dumbledore smiled back. "But enough chit chat, you must be wondering why I summoned you here tonight."

He led her over to a cabinet with lots of vials in it. They all contained a silvery liquid.

"What you are looking at are memories," Dumbledore answered her unasked question. "In this case, pertaining to one individual, Lord Voldemort. Or, of course, as he was known then, Tom Riddle."

He took a memory out of the cabinet. "This vial contains a most important memory that is mine. It is the day I first met him. I'd like you to see it, if you would."

So Rosalyn went over to Dumbledore's pensive, which she had visited once before, and poured the memory in it. She then leaned over the pensive, hovering above it before she felt the feeling of falling. She didn't cry out this time, however, because she knew it was going to happen.

She fell until her feet touched the ground. She was outside a building called Wool's Orphanage, according to the sign above the gates. She felt Dumbledore beside her, and he guided her into the building.

She saw a younger version of Dumbledore inside, with a woman who appeared to be in charge. "I must say we were quite surprised at recieving your letter," the woman told him. "In all the years Tom's been here he's never received one visitor."

Tom Riddle... Rosalyn thought, he was brought up in an orphanage, of course!

"There have been incidents with the other children," the woman warned him in a whisper, but Dumbledore didn't seem put-off in the slightest.

They reached a door that the woman pulled open, saying. "Tom, you have a visitor."

"How d'you do, Tom?" Dumbledore (young Dumbledore) asked cheerfully.

Soon, Dumbledore and Tom were alone. Rosalyn took this moment to take in eleven year old Tom Riddle. Hair slicked back, face unblemished... Rosalyn hated to admit it, but he sort of looked handsome.

"You're a doctor, aren't you?" He said coldly to Dumbledore.

"No." He answered calmly. "I'm a Professor."

"I don't believe you," Riddle said plainly, not blinking an eye. "She wants me looked at. They all do. They think I'm mad."

"Hogwarts is not a place for mad people," Dumbledore smiled. "Hogwarts is a school. A school of magic." He changed tack completely. "You can do things Tom... can't you? Things other children can't?"

"I can make things move without touching them," Riddle started to explain. "I can make animals do things without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt, if I want... who are you?" He added.

"I'm like you Tom," Dumbledore told him. "I'm different."

"Prove it," Riddle challenged.

Suddenly, the wardrobe in the corner burst into flames. Riddle looked worried all of a sudden. Dumbledore caught onto this immediately. "I think there's something in your wardrobe you ought to get out, Tom."

Tom Riddle, it turned out, had a large box of other people's possessions in his wardrobe. "Thievery is frowned upon at Hogwarts, Tom," Dumbledore warned the young boy. "But at Hogwarts you'll not only be taught how to use magic, but how to control it, you understand me?"

Tom nodded. He didn't like being told what to do, and this was obvious by his reaction. However, he nodded slightly. Dumbledore made to leave, but Riddle shouted something after him. "I can speak to snakes too, they find me... whisper things. Is that normal... for someone like me?"

Suddenly, Rosalyn felt herself being pulled upwards, and that could only mean one thing. The memory was over.

She landed in Dumbledore's office with a crash.

"Did you know, Sir?" Was the first question she asked when she had jumped to her feet. "Then?"

"Did I know I'd just met the most dark and dangerous wizard of all time?" Dumbledore asked, and Rosie nodded. "No. If I had, I..." He stopped, changing track. "Whilst here at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle grew especially close to one teacher, can you guess who that might be?"

Rosalyn sighed. "You didn't bring Professor Slughorn back just to teach potions, did you?" She asked, presuming and being right.

"No," Dumbledore admitted. "You see, Professor Slughorn posseses something I desire very dearly, but he won't give it up very easily."

"You said Professor Slughorn would try to collect me, and Harry," Rosalyn said, still gripping the edge of the stone cold pensive basin.

"I did," Dumbledore agreed.

"D'you want me to let him?" Rosalyn asked.

Dumbledore took a second to answer, looking down. "Yes."

Rosalyn sighed, trying to wonder how she was going to survive being treated as an item, ready to be collected as part of a set.

☆☆☆

The next day was a Friday, but even with a Hogsmeade trip the next day, nobody was turning in early. Right now, Fred and George were playing exploding snap, Hermione was finishing homework, Harry and Ron were playing chess and Rosalyn, well, Rosalyn was trying hard to ignore Neville and Hannah.

The Neville and Hannah who had recently discovered the wonderful world of snogging.

She watched them, sat together on an armchair, every so often pressing a kiss into each others lips. Rosalyn sat as far away as possible, steam basically coming out of her ears.

Finally, everyone went to bed, well, everyone except Rosalyn, who was sat by the fire, mulling things over in her head once again.

Neville was being a complete mystery at the moment. He had been owling Rosalyn all summer, getting the two gradually closer, then, suddenly, when he heard of a kiss that took place two years ago, he cut her off. And then started to date another girl.

Memories of her and Neville rushed through Rosalyn's head.

The first time he saw her... on the train in first year... he blushed red and ran out... Rosie didn't know what she had done wrong...

He had given her a get well card after she had fought Voldemort over the philosopher's stone... he had been mortified, but she had loved it...

In second year, the two of them had touched hands trying to get potatoes at the end of term feast... Neville had resembled a tomato rather than a potato... Rosalyn hadn't been fazed in the slightest... she'd been so confused...

In third year, they had met in the common room one morning... Neville was reading a book by Roald Dhal... it turned out they shared a love for this... he even got her a present with one of the books in it...

In fourth year, things had got tricky... Tristan. A cute, French boy that Rosalyn had taken a fancy to... she had fallen out with Neville in the process of getting together with him... yes, she had even kissed him... but the Yule Ball had changed everything. He had insulted Neville... she had broken everything off with him...

The two had gotten back together... he had helped her in the second task... given her gillyweed... and despite the hell of a year they had, he still had managed to comfort her through it...

In fifth year, well... they had kissed. It wasn't an 'on the lips' kiss, just on the cheek. They had found themselves under mistletoe...

This year had started off alright, but then Neville found out about the kiss between her and Tristan... suddenly he was dating Hannah, never looking back...

She was pulled back to real life with a jerk, now not thinking of happy memories, but sad ones. She wasn't aware that she was crying until she felt a tear roll down her cheek.

And from then, she realised, that finally, the love that Neville had had for her all these years, the friendship, the hand holds, the kisses, the awkwardness, the jealousy, all the good and the bad, was finally, wholly, mutual.