CHAPTER FIVE
❝prideful❞

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HER FIRST TASK WAS TO SECURE A POSITION AT 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE. Of course, Dumbledore could bring her from her home and place her there, though that would lead to many suspicions arising. It was too high profile for what they needed; everything had to be under the noses of everyone else, everything had to have a good reason that wasn't just his words. Because while Dumbledore was powerful, he too could be questioned and turned upon.

It would be easier for him to just place her there, much easier than her having to trick her uncle into giving her protection there. Yet, Rosalie realized that everything had an order and not following it would raise a red flag – something which was not needed for them. No one needed to suspect anything from Rosalie, everyone just needed to accept her presence and not ask questions about why she was there or how Dumbledore had such a close connection with her.

The infamous Albus Dumbledore was not close with his students. He knew them well enough but never had a mentor-mentee relationship with any of them. Well, except Harry Potter, if you could count him. It was more of a partnership than anything else, and Dumbledore had already told her that he thought it too dangerous for Harry for the two of them to continue any relationship going into the new year with the changes arising.

If everyone saw how close they were, knew that there was a partnership between the two of them, it would surely cause them to raise an eyebrow at her. Everything would be questioned and fall apart – which they could not allow in their operation.

So Rosalie, letting go of her pride, clothed herself in fine muggle wear before going to her uncle's house. She did not want to ask anything of him, he had offered to bring her in once he learned of the negligence of her father, but she had refused any help. She would not allow him or anyone else look at her with pity because of her parentage; she would hold her head high with pride as she listened to her own father call her gourmande and throw bottles at the wall behind her.

It was not the life she wanted to live, but it was the one she was given and she would not allow people to pity her for it. She could endure that; she could endure anything.

Though now it was needed for her to let go of her pride, to go crying to her uncle for help and protection from her father – his brother-in-law. Or, at least, he was until the death of her mother.

It was late at night when she left the house, there was no other sign of her than herself, so it was easy to go through the front door. She waited, knowing that the Night Bus would show up for her soon and she could give the driver instructions for where she needed to go. And, she was correct as she had only waited a minute before the bus appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

A man helped her aboard and asked for her destination, which she told him before going to sit on one of the beds provided on the bus. Because of the speed at which the driver used, she was at the house in less than ten minutes.

As she got off, she stared at the house before her and sucked in a breath. She knew what she needed to do; she had to act like the piteous girl who was on her last ditch effort; a girl who needed help because it had finally gone too far and she feared for her life at home.

Rosalie walked up to the door and knocked, waiting as she heard shuffling behind it. Soon, the door opened revealing her Uncle Kingsley. They said nothing for a moment, shock encasing her uncle as he hadn't seen her in well over a year. Not since she last told him that she did not want to stay at his house.

"Rosalie," he breathed out, marveling at the sight of her.

She offered a timid smile, making herself out to look like a scared little girl. "Hi," she greeted her, "Can I – can I come in?"

Kingsley nodded and allowed her access into his house, which she took. "Yes, let's go to the living room to sit down," he told her and she nodded, remembering the layout of his house as she took herself into the living room with her uncle by her side.

As they sat down, he continued to look at her and assess her appearance. "Rosalie, what happened?" he asked her, always one to cut to the chase, "What brought you here?"

Rosalie swallowed. It was now or never; this could be the end to the operation before it even started or the beginning of it. "It's gotten a lot worse," she confessed to him in a whisper, not allowing her gut to fill with guilt as she lied to him. It was for the greater good, she reminded herself. "He's – he's gotten a lot worse and I'm just...I'm so scared to sleep at him. I can't sleep when he's there."

"Oh, Rosalie," Kingsley whispered sympathetically and part of her wanted to tense and spit out to him that she wasn't some pitiful little girl; she could handle it herself. But no, that would cause the end not lead to the beginning. She had to let him pity her.

"I wasn't going to come here, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. I didn't know where to go at all. I'm just so scared whenever he's home, I don't want to make him angry again," she held herself as she looked at him. Glancing up and down to see if he was believing her story.

Thankfully, he was, and she could never admit it but it brought her a sick satisfaction to watch as he ate up every word she fed him. Maybe she was a better actress than she thought; maybe this would work.

"You can stay here for the night," Kingsley told her and she sighed in relief; both for her character and because her plan was working, "We can go back tomorrow to gather your things but you can't – I can't let you stay here forever."

"What?" she asked, voice breaking as she needed to stay the pitiful girl who couldn't protect herself from her monster of a father anymore.

Kingsley sighed and looked down guiltily (she forced herself not to feel any guilt of her for creating that look on his face), "It's too dangerous for me to leave you here alone every day – and some nights. I have, I can bring you somewhere else but you have to promise me something."

"Anything," she quickly told him before cursing at herself for being too eager.

He looked at her again, going up and down on her figure before opening his mouth, "You can't tell anyone about what you hear or see there. It remains a secret, that's the only way I can bring you there."

She nodded. She could do anything to gain access; this was what she wanted, this was what she needed. Everything was going to according to plan and so it wasn't like she wasn't already keeping secrets. No one knew about her plan, no one knew about the mission that Dumbledore had given her, about what was going to happen next week. No one knew that this was the last week Rosalie Allen's left arm would remain without a mark. Next week she would be branded with a cause; she would be on her first official steps to glory.

"Of course," she told him, launching herself down the rabbit hole that would never lead her to Wonderland.

°°°

AUTUMN WAS beginning to turn into winter, the days were growing shorter it seemed as the weather transformed into bitter coldness that stung and whipped all of the children. Progress had been made since the beginning of the school year, with the Vanishing Cabinet found, though broken, which they were beginning to fix to secure a connection to the outside world for the other Death Eaters to use on their faithful day.

There was no progress on the murdering of Albus Dumbledore. Rosalie, truthfully, wanted to get no closer to that end, did not want to see the day where he died and she had a hand in the death. So they had agreed upon that while Rosalie would research ways to kill Dumbledore, other than the killing curse, Draco would be the one to send whatever they did choose to him while Rosalie would be there to greet the Death Eaters once they fixed the cabinet.

It worked for them; giving them both ways into Dumbledore's death so one would not have to carry the burden alone, but also make them work with the Vanishing Cabinet and not carry that burden by themselves either. While Rosalie would rather solely work on the cabinet to absolve herself from feeling guilt upon his death, she knew it was not fair to Draco to let him carry that alone.

So she researched different poisons, cursed objects that could lead to death, and anything else that could be the cause of Albus Dumbledore's death which would not be direct murder by Draco Malfoy or Rosalie Allen. Neither of them could handle the weight of that.

Rosalie stayed in the library, reading anything not from the Forbidden Section, which she would only dare go into during the dark of night and steal back to her dorm or the Room of Requirement to keep Draco company. Though, since it was the middle of the day and not safe for any of the books she had stolen, she only read from those everyone had access to not to cause any suspicion to be shed upon her.

She worked alone, keeping to herself on a small corner of the library and no one paid her any mind. They did not know her, they did not care about her; she was just a student among them, a ghost practically.

"I like your earrings," a wispy voice broke her from her thoughts, complimenting her jewelry.

Rosalie blinked and looked up to see Luna going to sit with her. "Hi, Luna. Er, thanks," she said in response, touching the earrings.

"It reminds me of mistletoe," Luna continued, either not noticing Rosalie's tense figure or just ignoring it, "That's a wonderful decoration, isn't it? They're full of nargles, too."

"Yeah, nargles," Rosalie repeated, not sure whether she believed in the creatures Luna claimed to exist. The rest of the wizarding world sure did believe they were myths. She looked down, noticing then that Luna wasn't wearing anything on her feet. "Luna, where did your shoes go?"

Luna shrugged but didn't seem fazed by her lack of footwear. "Sometimes they just disappear."

"Are people taking your shoes?" Rosalie asked the girl, finding herself wanting to find the people who steal them and hex them.

"Maybe, but it might also be the nargles. They're tricksy little things," Luna offered another explanation, never one to cast someone in a bad light, "I don't mind. It's easier for me to go into the woods without them, won't scare away any of the creatures."

"Right," Rosalie said, "But if someone is stealing your shoes, you should probably tell your head of house."

"No, they'll turn up eventually," Luna disagreed, "Always at the most unusual times, too."

"But don't teachers get worried when you turn up to class without shoes on?" Rosalie tried.

Luna just flipped through the pages of a book that she had placed on the table. "I never show up to class without shoes. It always happens during free periods."

"Don't you want your shoes back?" Rosalie asked her, "Immediately, I mean?"

The girl shrugged at her, "I don't find. You don't need to worry about it, Rosalie."

"Okay," Rosalie said, looking at her before relaxing her shoulders. She blinked, staring at Luna who seemed entirely calm before getting back to her reading.

She sighed when she saw the numerous items the book was describing, wishing once again that she had not thrown herself into this life. Maybe she wouldn't have glory then, but at least she would not be researching how to become a murderer. Too late to turn back now.