PROLOGUE.
YOU ARE NOTHING

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1996

Darkness crept in from all corners, covering the room like a blanket. The air was stiff and unmoving, the movements of the people were constructed and calculated. Her legs were crossed and her hands lied precisely on her knee, head turned up and frizzy hair pulled back as she waited.

The other two people in the room kept their eyes on her. Her situation was more than peculiar, seeing as none could trust anything about her from the color of her school robes and defiant streak she had plagued upon everyone. Yet, she stayed there, ready.

Nothing moved for seconds, minutes even. The two onlookers stayed in their different corners, ready at any minute to seize her or bow to their lord, and she continued to sit with her posture straight as she looked out of the only open window, seeing as the light turned into dark and the clouds went to stars.

A curt knock hit the door, sending a single chill down her spine as she waited for the next move. Mother always told her it was better to keep quiet, think of it as a chess game, and think of yourself as the queen. Blinking, she went through her mantra again; you're alright, you're alright, you're alright.

"My Lord," the closest to the door answered when he opened the door, moving out of the way and letting his slaves and master into the room in which she waited.

"Ah," the man which everyone feared walked in front of her, taking in her appearance, "what do we have here?"

Her eyes flickered up to him, this was the name that everyone feared yet she showed no sign of it. She had been trained for this moment, there would be no need to fear him.

"Her name is -" the man stepped forward, his eyes with bags under it from the constant stress he had dealt with over the long summer and the year before that.

"I do not care what her name is," the feared man cut off his servant, "But what she has come to offer me if I give her a better life."

She should have had a bitter face, the things he said were lies, but she could not show anything other than loyalty to him. The plan had to succeed, even if it meant it ended in her death, but it could not start with it.

"The Order of the Phoenix is back in order," she said to him solemnly, not letting the others speak for her, "And I was conducted into it. I could be a spy for you."

He sent her a sick smile, "But what if I already have a spy."

"One that the others do not trust?" she raised her eyebrow, "Only Dumbledore trusts Snape, everyone else is...apprehensive of him, for better words."

"And they trust you?"

"I am in Gryffindor, given them no reason to distrust me and can easily befriend Harry Potter if you see fit," she told him, "Of course they trust me, everyone in the Order trusts me."

A curt nod was sent to her, like a signal that he liked what he was seeing. "And why would I trust you? How do I know you won't betray me?"

The question was simple, only a simple answer was needed. But she knew that many had failed to answer it properly. Any Slytherin he would welcome with open arms, knowing that their parents wouldn't allow them to betray him. But her...she was a Gryffindor, why should he trust her?

She saw the man who opened the door shuffle behind her, waiting at any moment to disarm her, she knew it. The other who had been in the room before his lord had appeared moved towards the door, making sure that she couldn't leave if she tried.

"Look into my mind," she said to him in a strong, unwavering voice, "If you see any sign of defiance, then kill me."

He smiled, liking that she was willing to die if he did not accept her. Such loyalty was hard to come by, he knew.

With the tip of his hand, she felt herself be pulled back into her mind...into her memories.

The scene was of a dining room with a large, wooden table. People were gathered around it, including Dumbledore, Snape, and the alleged murderer Sirius Black. Her head turned from them to Hermione Granger, who didn't notice her all that well.

"He cannot know," Dumbledore said calmly, looking at all of the gathered people, taking in their anger but not using his own.

"Why not?" Sirius questioned, "He has a right! He was the one who saw him. He isn't a boy, Dumbledore, not anymore. If his friends have the right, then so does he!"

"You are wrong!" Mrs. Weasley called, "He is just a boy!"

"It is not the right time for him to learn about the Order," Dumbledore told them, still not letting any anger seep into his words, "The house will protect him, Voldemort will not try anything while he is in the muggle's household. He is regaining his army before he will attack anyone else.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore then addressed Hermione and Ron, "I trust that you will not tell Harry about any of this, unless you would like to return to her homes."

"But -" Ron went to argue but Hermione cut him off with, "Of course, sir."

They sent each other looks, both of anger and wanting to be more powerful and have the last word, but then Ron huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back and looking at the others who also wanted to tell Harry about all of this.

"And Miss Allen," he moved onto the girl where the memory came from, "You won't say a word either?"

"Of course not," she answered, not looking at Ron or Hermione as she said it.

"Good," he nodded at her before ending the meeting and leaving the house.

Most people, who were only there for the meeting, began to stand up as well. They bid farewell to everyone before leaving themselves, and soon it was only those who were staying at the house of the summer. The girl blinked, standing up she went to the hallway, passing the portrait of a yelling Walburga Black. She looked at it before passing, not giving her any time of day as she went to the study that Orion Black once worked at.

She looked onto the blank pages that laid scattered on the desk, the quill dipped in black ink that had long hardened from the years that it had stood there. Dust covered every inch, but she didn't care as she continued to look around the place.

Then, suddenly, there was a voice behind her, "They'll never be your friends."

She jumped, startled from the man who was behind her. Sending him a smile, she asked, "Pardon me?"

"You mean nothing to them," he called again, ignoring her question. The man took another step towards her, "You are nothing. They will never be your friends."

The vision ended. The girl was brought back into the real world, looking at the man everyone feared again. He gave her a wicked smile, "Is this what started your hatred for them?"

She nodded, not daring to blink as she continued to look him in the eyes. Still, the sick smile played on his face as he brought his attention from her and to his servants.

Then, he picked up his wand and brought the tip of it to her head once again...

Now the vision was of a closed office. Pictures of cats were hung on every wall, and the wallpaper and every decoration was pink. In the chair, was a woman who could be described as a toad, with a bright smile that brought no joy to others but anger and aggravation.

She looked down at her hands, perfectly smooth and colored, before returning back to the woman. She had heard of this woman's practices in detention, yet she still landed herself in it after a quarrel with another student.

"You know exactly why you're here, dear?" the pink woman asked in an obnoxiously high voice.

"Yes," she replied curtly, staring the woman in the eyes to show that she was not afraid of being punished by her. But it was no matter, because the professor continued to stare at her before continuing herself.

"Yes, yes, of course," she made a noise, "You attacked another student when they asked to see your books."

"They didn't have the right to," the girl whom the memory came from snarled, "It's my personal property."

"Oh, yes," the toad-like woman nodded, "But he is much more powerful than you. And I, myself, have given him permission to do as he wanted amongst the students if he thought anyone would be going against the Ministry...

"And you, Miss Allen, have attacked him," the woman finished with raised eyebrows, "Now that shows me signs of disloyalty...so that must be punished."

The professor in pink held out a quill for the girl to take, smiling sickly as she did so. Yes, she must learn, the professor thought. Taking the quill, the girl waited for instructions for what to write as she brought it to the piece of parchment.

"Write 'I am nothing' until I tell you to stop," the toad-like woman ordered, and the girl complied.

While she wanted to argue, to not do as she said, the girl knew that it would get her nowhere. So instead, she wrote the line on the parchment, stopping for only a moment when the words began to appear on her skin.

The feared man brought his wand away from the girl's head, taking her left hand to see the faded mark, I am nothing. It was what had defined her for so long, the memories of the three words that had occurred many times still sending her into a spiral of sadness and self-loathing.

"My dear," the feared and powerful said in a strained voice, "You will be rewarded if you join me. One more memory before I make my decision."

She sent him a curt nod. She could endure one more memory if it meant joining him, she would endure one more memory. The girl refused to nothing for the rest of her life.

For the last time, his wand went straight to her head and she let herself be taken into another painful memory...

This was a much older memory. Her hand was shown, but it was much smaller, much smoother than last time. Her father was shown, scuff for a beard and dark bags under his eyes with a bottle in his hand.

It was dark outside, thunder sounded and lightning struck, but that was not what sent fear down the little girl's spine.

Her father's stature was hunched, a twitch to his that was holding the bottle and dark look in his eyes. The little girl was sitting on the couch, her little hand touching her sick mother's. But her father did not care as he made his way over to her.

"You were a mistake, gourmande," he sneered as he towered over her, "We didn't want you! We still don't want you."

"No, please," the little girl cried, "You don't mean that!"

"Of course I do!" he roared, "If you were never born, your mother would have never gotten sick! We could be traveling the world right now, but no, you just came and ruined our lives!"

The little girl tried to remind herself that it was because of the alcohol, but words were as sharp as knives and they cut deep like them too.

"Please, father!" tears streamed down her face as she continued to hold her mother's cold, limp hand, "Tell me you don't mean it."

He laughed cynically, ignoring his daughter's words, "Oh, but I do, gourmande. You are nothing, and you always be nothing."

Stop. The memory was over and she felt herself be pulled into reality once more. She wanted to cry, but that would show weakness, and she could not be weak in front of the person she wanted to impress.

He showed no sympathy, he showed nothing at all. But the girl knew why, he felt nothing on the inside. He was poisoned so that he would never know love or feel anything but anger and despair. The man wanted to feel the void inside, so, he turned to becoming powerful. But the girl did not care, she didn't want the sympathy of a mad man – of a killer.

"I see your reasoning behind this," the feared, yet powerful, man nodded, "You want to become something...you want to have power, isn't that correct?"

"Yes."

Another smile. Another sick and twisted smile was sent straight to her, just for her. Those made her sick, but she would have to get used to it if she wanted to stay, to be useful to him.

"Bring out your left wrist," he commanded in a gentle, though it didn't seem soft, tone. She complied, out of fear and achievement. This was exactly what she wanted to happen from this meeting.

He took the tip to his white, killer wand and placed it to the middle of her arm. With a simple spell, she was branded – she was cursed. But now, she was one of them, a Death Eater.

"And what is your name, dear?" he asked once he was done branding her, initiating her.

"Rosalie Allen," she responded, for tone a void of emotion along with her face. She showed nothing as she stared at him, forgetting the others in the room as she continued to look into the face that ended many others.

"Welcome to the ranks, Rosalie Allen," he sent her a last, sick smile, "Now I would suggest you return home before anyone worries."

With that, she was sent out of the Malfoy manor, stealing a glance at the blonde haired boy in her year before going outside for a side-long Apparation with another Death Eater to her house.

Sending the man a nod, the man Disapparated himself, leaving her outside her childhood home that had been vacant for some time now since the death of her 'beloved' father. Rosalie had been the only one cheering at the funeral, but then again, it was only her that attended it since she didn't want anyone to know of his passing in case they would try to take her away.

Rosalie looked at the house once more before walking down the street, going to the place that had been the scene of her first recovered memory.

It didn't take long to appear at the front door of the hidden building, since the Allen family home was only a few blocks from the old place. Going to the front door, she twisted the knob and allowed herself inside, taking a look at the gathered people in the dining room.

All conversation stopped as they saw the young girl step into the house. Sirius Black sent her a cold look, but said nothing, and Mrs. Weasley tried to sit her down for dinner, but she did not let the woman. Looking over at the other children, who were about her age (give or take a few years), went to the study where the Boggart of her father once was.

The portrait of the old Headmaster looked at her, "I guess you want me to summon Dumbledore?"

"As quickly as possible," Rosalie answered in a cold tone, "It's urgent news."

The portrait walked away, leaving a vacant study for a landscape in his place. Rosalie waited patiently for Dumbledore to Apparate, knowing that he would come as quick as he could, seeing as he was the one that required her service in the first place, knowing her history.

Then, Rosalie was not alone in the room as she felt the presence of another, and the sound that was made for Apparating helped as well. She turned to see the aged face of her Headmaster looking at her.

"You have any news on your current assignment, Miss Allen?" he asked in the same, calm voice she had grown accustomed to over their talks and the many speeches he had given during dinners in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

"Yes," she said in a strong voice, "Good news."

"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow in surprise from the way she phrased it, "And what would that be?"

Lifting her left sleeve and showing him the mark that would curse her for the rest of her life, she said, "It is done."

•••

the prologue is done! yay! if you were wondering, 'gourmande' is French for 'greedy girl", just thought you should know...

dedicated to argentsvogue for being an amazing human bean who writes amazing things, and yeah.

question of the day,
do you like Rosalie?

answer of the day,
of course!