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notes hey, everyone! due to me going to uni in a week, i'm going to change the update schedule to bi-weekly (two times a month). this is the act finale, so we'll be taking a bit of a break before act 3 is up! thank u for staying with me so far, and hope you enjoy <3

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MUGGLE HOUSE IS BURNED BY DEATH EATERS; NO SURVIVORS FOUND.
The WW Papers, July 27th, 1977.

Neighbourhoods in London fear for their lives. Behind picket fences and garden vines, every Muggle is learning to fear for their lives. War will consume every part of their mind, once they learn how truly bloodthirsty He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is.

Caught in the crossfire, the home of the Edson family has been scorched. The Green Dark Mark was nowhere to be seen by the time Aurors found the house. No bodies have been found, but evidence of an explosion remains. Not being able to save a family such as this is alarming, proving the Ministry's incompetence.

Rosalie Edson, a Muggle-born witch, was attending Hogwarts before the untimely attack. It is unknown whether her or her family are alive, or if they've all died because our government couldn't save them.

Perhaps they are on the run from the attack. It is optimistic to reduce the killings to a simple runaway or kidnapping, but a lack of a body could mean anything — and everything.

Auror Amber Wilkins and her team have been assigned to Rosalie Edson's case.

"We are doing everything to find the remaining survivors," Wilkins said. "It is terrible that another attack has occurred. I feel for Rosalie and her family."

All other Aurors have declined to comment.

What I am most confused by is that the Daily Prophet refuses to release the attack. What is so different? Why must a small newspaper be the only one reporting such terrible news to the public? Is no media reliable anymore?

Should we fear? Should we panic? I myself have a daughter, and a proud one that supports Muggles and Muggle-borns. I do, as well. Does the Daily Prophet secretly admire He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for guts, so-called bravery, and the blood he spills?

Or do they not want to cross him, fearing death?

This is Amala Selwyn, reporting on what I dub the First Wizarding War, since 1970.

(More by Amala Selwyn: Vampire Lux Erzsebet Escapes Aurors Once More, Page 3)

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Rosalie is missing.

Drake drops the newspaper he's holding, his hand headed for his dreads, before remembering that he chopped them off just yesterday.

"I'm trying to find her," his sister is saying, but Drake doesn't register her words.

He has few friends, and most of them are merely transactional. Besides the graduated Jennifer Fawley, the elusive Aries Mensen, the conflicted Adhara Nott, and his ex-friend Richard Nott, Drake never really interacted with many Slytherins.

And then he met Rosalie, who introduced him to Acacia.

The two girls changed his life. Even if Drake admits that Rosalie irked him back in their second year, and he disliked Acacia for a large period of time, the two slowly became his world.

Rosalie became something of a younger sister. She took him outside to splash in mud puddles with Acacia, let him rest on her shoulder, practised Quidditch with him so he could be better than Acacia (he failed), and introduced him to card games.

And Drake knew that Rosalie knew how hardened he was before she and his girlfriend came into his life, because Drake was told he didn't need love. His father died for love. Drake didn't want his fate to be sealed, even at his young age. Now, Drake doesn't mind something he once believed was poison.

He didn't mind carrying her when she broke her leg after being tripped by a blood supremacist, wiping her tears, and helping her down the stairs when she sprained her ankle after falling flat on her face the same place the two of them got hurt in the second year. He didn't mind helping her get over Gilderoy Lockhart with Acacia, although he hated that the latter had far more of an effect on Rosalie.

Even if Drake has other friends, he and Rosalie love each other in ways that he doesn't love them. They have almost a familial bond with each other, and he never wants to let it go.

But Rosalie is gone, so he might have to.

"I know you're trying, Amber," is what Drake says. It's neutral enough for Amber to approve. "Get some sleep."

"You too," she says, even if they know that neither of them will.

A loud bang makes Amber jump.

Drake remains still, his eyes still on the newspaper. "Are we moving soon?"

"You'll be graduating this year," is Amber's answer. "I'll be Kingsley's while you finish the year. Once you're done, we come back here, you start earning money, and then I'll find a flat."

"Is he okay with you being there?" Drake asks. "You've been staying at his place for years."

Amber scowls. "Where do you want me to stay? I can't afford the Leaky Cauldron's prices for no more than a few months. You working weekends isn't enough, Drake."

"You're an Auror," Drake says obviously. "I heard they pay well."

"Not enough." Amber bitterly smiles. "I still have to pay Mother's debts. And yours."

"I was ten," Drake retorts. "You encouraged me."

"I encouraged your petty thievery because it paid the bills," Amber counters. "I did not tell you to steal an expensive watch from a dangerous man. You knew the risks."

Drake grits his teeth. "And I learned the hard way."

His sister softens. "You shouldn't have. That's why I'm here, to make sure nothing happens to you. You have that watch, but at what cost, Drake?"

"Father fought him well," he says bluntly, the stolen silver watch glinting in the moonlight. "And now you suffer too, because he's gone."

"So did you," Amber said, patting Drake's head, the only affection she'd ever give him. "He tortured you for daring to step into his home. He left our father dead after he tried fighting for you."

Drake sighs. "You need a break."

"No." Amber turns around, packing her black bag. "I need to work, to make sure that Voldemort never hurts anyone again."

Drake flinches. "Don't say his name."

Scoffing, Amber shoulders her bag. "Come on. What's he going to do?"

"Kill you," Drake says bluntly. "It's two in the morning and you're going to work, alone. One word about him and the Death Eaters will have you writhing in pain."

"Hmm," Amber says, unbothered. "Good thing I'm prepared, Drake."

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The funeral is cold. The weather itself is humid, with few clouds in sight. In fact, Rosalie can't tell where her tears end and where her sweat begins, and her broken humour almost causes her to laugh and cry on the spot. Instead, she holds onto her mother, black dress clinging to her skin.

But Rosalie? She still feels colder than ever, despite that suppressed laugh in her throat. She probably could make Thomas's second-cousin think she's possessed. Or a witch, which is technically true.

"I am sorry for your loss," the twentieth person says, and Rosalie just nods as Hana murmurs out a polite, "Thank you."

They go home in the night, with Rosalie's aunt, Jia Choi. She's stocky, short, and has biceps poking from her short sleeves. Hana's more delicate in comparison, thinner, taller, slender, and someone who fights like a ballerina. Jia, on the other hand, must fight like Thomas — like a bull, like a machine, like someone with a vendetta.

"I am sorry, Rosalie," Jia says, the first words Rosalie's heard from her aunt since she was seven. She's crushed into a hug, warm hands patting her back. It's bulky, but oddly comforting. "Both Hanu and I are here for you."

Rosalie doesn't question the nickname. Instead, she smiles, murmurs a polite "thank you", and lets herself relax on her bed once the three get back to their dingy motel.

The room's paint is peeling. A wall is decorated with creepy portraits and a fireplace Rosalie faces away from. Her hair is sprawled on her pillow, plain white sheets pulled up to her chin.

The world goes black, but a thud jerks her awake.

Rosalie squints, holding back her groan. The alarm clock in the nightstand says that's five minutes past three. In the morning. And her aunt Jia just dropped a book on the ground.

"You're going to wake Rosalie," Hana says, sounding as calm as ever. Rosalie, however, catches a soft tremor in her voice. "She hasn't been sleeping or eating well these past two weeks."

"Shit," Jia mumbles. "Hopefully that didn't startle her."

It did, but Rosalie can go back to sleep, anyway. At least, she was planning to before her mother sighs and says, "What do I do now?"

"You move in with me, Hanu," Jia insists, "just like we planned."

"And then we can get our money back for the house," Hana continues to murmur on her bed, comforted by her elder sister, Jia, who slowly sits next to her. Rosalie squints at them, pretending to be asleep; the red-rimmed eyes are sore from the tears she cried at the funeral. "I need to start working, but —"

"I will find you a job, Hanu," Jia says, rubbing her younger sister's back. "Also, Sun-mi and Eirini are working shifts at the café; I am sure Rosalie can join them."

At the mention of her name, Hana glances at her daughter, who immediately shuts her eyes.

"Eonni," Hana begins hesitantly. "Rosalie has not seen her cousins since she was seven. It is not going to be easy. And I think she will be in more danger with us."

Rosalie tries not to frown.

"How so?" Jia asks, keeping her voice low.

"The attack was not because of her," Hana says finally. "It was because of us. And she got caught in the middle of it."

"You cannot separate now, Hana," Jia tells her, with Rosalie secretly agreeing under her covers. "She needs you."

"And I need her alive," Hana says simply, causing Rosalie to flinch. "Eonni, you are in danger because you are not ... magic, like we are not."

Rosalie almost doubles over at the word. Did her mother just —

"We are mugs, or whatever they are called. We can be endangered together. But Rosalie has magic. She needs to be free of us —"

"Magic," Jia whispers; Rosalie flinches again. "I did not believe you when you told me then. Nor did I tell anyone, because of some law they have, am I right? After Joon ..."

Hana sighs sharply. "Rosalie did well, defending herself."

"You can't — you're not supposed to tell," Rosalie rasps out, rising from her bed, startling the two women. There is no point in pretending to sleep now. "Is it because —" She makes an irritated noise in her throat when her words get stuck. "— Auntie Jia is a lawyer? Like you?"

"Of sorts." Jia grins mysteriously. "Morning, Rosalie."

"It's a bit early, but good morning," the younger girl replies, looking at the floor. She attempts to pull the sheets off her body, only for her hands to shake. "I think you're right." She breathes in, her words coming out in small pieces. "We need — need to separate, as much as I — as much as —"

As much as I don't want you to, is what she's trying to say, but her mouth's still adjusting, and she doesn't want to leave.

After all, she's barely spoken for two weeks. Her mother's first hospital visit where she was conscious was the only time she opened her mouth and said words, until now. They've been avoiding the discussion of their permanent whereabouts.

"Rosalie," Jia says, her smile fading. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Rosalie glances at her mother. "I was awake —" She takes a deep breath and forces the rest of her sentence out. "— for a while now. You and Auntie Jia's family need to be hidden. I need to finish school and join you."

Jia blinks. "Since when do teenagers want to go to school?"

"It is a magic school," Hana says, voice light.

She doesn't notice the way Rosalie's looking at her. Hana's light is slowly returning, just by being with her sister. Even if Hana pretends to hide it, Rosalie can hear her sobbing in the middle of the night, clutching the family pictures of the four of them in the darkness.

"Had they known you were here, Rosalie," Hana continues, oblivious to Rosalie's thoughts, "the Death Beaters would have brought more people. And better people."

"Eaters," Rosalie corrects, the rasp in her voice slowly dissipating. "Death Eaters."

Jia wrinkles her nose. "What type of name is Death Eater?"

"They're the defiers of death," Rosalie murmurs, and the words coming from anger seem to leave her mouth much easier, "believing themselves to be superior above all. Above people who don't have magic."

Hana nods. "And people whose families do not have magic."

"Like you," Jia realises, eyes widening. "You have your stick-thing, and we don't."

"Wand," Rosalie says dully. It was the same thing that killed her father. Every day, she resists the urge to toss the wand into the flames, but reminds herself that she can't let fire take everything from her.

She can't let that unnamed Death Eater steal her only weapon after stealing her family away, too.

"I would have to live alone," Rosalie says, and then the situation materialises, because it's real. There's a possibility that Rosalie will sleep alone, cry alone, and live the rest of her summer alone.

"You could go to a friend's house," Jia suggests, but Rosalie shakes her head.

The words, at least, come to her easier.

"Acacia's having financial difficulties. She lives with her brother, and they're barely holding on. And Drake isn't even living in a house. I think he's staying in a motel, like us. I can't bother James because Sirius is already staying with him."

"And we cannot afford this motel for much longer," Hana says bluntly. "We might have to tap into Joon's money and move somewhere else, somewhere cheaper."

"That's fine," Rosalie says, slowly and softly, even if it really isn't. "I'll move into a smaller area. And you two can move away."

"Move," Jia says slowly, "move to my house, right?"

Rosalie swallows. "No. To America."

Jia coughs out a laugh. "Rosalie, I have a life here. With my husband and kids. A war is not taking away the future I have built."

"You're in danger," Rosalie says bluntly, turning to Hana for help. "Mum?"

Hana blinks, before sighing. "She is right, Eonni. We need to move. Everyone is in danger, but they might come after us. I think the Death Beaters —"

"Eaters," Rosalie corrects.

"— want to finish the job, so I am unsafe," Hana swiftly continues. "You, Seul-ki, and the children don't have magic, so they will come for you eventually. You need to be safe."

Jia smirks. "I know my way around a revolver. I will be okay."

Hana smiles fondly. "I remember when you stormed the gates of Joon's house, took out three of his bodyguards, and pinned him to the ground."

"That's amazing," Rosalie admits, "but that's not enough. Mum has years of taekwondo, while Dad and Delilah —" She chokes on her words, before inhaling. And then exhaling. She swallows her spit. "They had experience, too. But that didn't stop the Death Eaters from taking their lives."

At least I'll have my mother, she thinks solemnly. For now, her heart is numb, and the thoughts of her family are far away. She can't cry. Her mother is holding it together, so she will as well.

"I truly am sorry," Jia begins, "but I will not leave. Hanu can leave if she wants —"

"You are," Hana says with a surprising amount of conviction. "And so is your family. Your pride will not put them in danger."

Jia scoffs. "You should be the last person to speak about pride."

Rosalie's eyes widen. Oh, God.

"You've been wanting to say that for years, haven't you?" Hana asks, eyes narrowing into thin slits. "Fine. I shouldn't have married Joon, but I would have never had Rosalie. I suppose you are like Jae, believing I deserve whatever Joon did —"

"Of course not!" A derisive noise is made in Jia's throat. "But I did tell you to leave for years, Hana!"

Rosalie swallows. It takes her a few seconds, but her trembling hands tear off the blanket protecting her shivering body. Reaching for a spare piece of paper that she asked for after getting discharged, Rosalie thinks of the many words she could possibly write.

"It is not that easy!" Hana thunders, and the other two women jump.

With the motel's free pen, Rosalie starts to awkwardly and painfully scratch out a letter. She hasn't written anything for two weeks, so the pen wobbles, spilling ink on the paper. Even if her letter reads like one of a five-year-old child's, hopefully it's readable enough.

She doesn't know what's going on in the world, but she's sure that Acacia and Drake don't know about the attack. They can wait a few days, she thinks guiltily. Rosalie needs to keep her family safe — the remaining members.

She will not stand by and watch them wither.

And so, the words Dear Dumbledore are scrawled on the thin piece of paper, along with a plea for protection, a safe house, anything. She addresses it to Hogwarts, the same way her parents did when they wanted to write to her first, because wizards working in the post-office would intercept it from muggles and make sure it went to Dumbledore.

"Do you have an envelope?" Rosalie asks, startling her mother and aunt.

"They are in that drawer," Hana says, pointing to the dressing stand. "Are you writing to your friends, Rosalie? You need an owl." She shudders. "And we, thankfully, do not have them."

"You have always been scared of birds, Hanu," Jia says mirthfully, despite the fact that their bickering was just interrupted by Rosalie, who's currently sealing her letter.

"Shush," Hana mutters. There is no trace of a smile on her face. "This is not a time for jokes, Eonni. You just want me to receive penance for falling in love with a bad man."

Jia looks aghast. "No, of course not."

"Then —"

"Stop." Rosalie's aunt and mother turn to stare at her. The younger girl clutches her envelope. "I have a solution. If Dumbledore accepts —"

Jia frowns. "Dumble? Like bumble?"

"My school's headmaster," Rosalie explains, trying to keep her voice steady. "If he accepts my terms, you'll have a safe place to live. And you can stay in the country until the war is over."

"How long is that?" Jia challenges.

Hana remains silent, but her eyes glimmer with pride.

"I don't know." Rosalie sighs. "But your safety's more important."

Jia grits her teeth, glances at her sister, and then sighs. "Fine. Mail your letter."

Rosalie lets out a rare smile, and it lights up her whole face. "We'll mail it in the morning — or, well, in a few hours. I'm tired."

And they do, after Rosalie collapses on her bed and wakes up in the morning, with her aunt and mother already dressed. Sleepily, Rosalie combs a hand through her greasy hair, throws on a stained jumper, and heads out with them.

Her steps feel sluggish. And her arm still throbs, reminding her of the people she lost. A headache pulses in her head, replacing her constant visions. It's as if the grief chases away the history that usually plagues her mind.

The trip to the post office is quicker than she expected. After Jia directs them to afternoon coffee at the nearest café, the family returns to the motel when the night has settled in. Rosalie feels a yawn building in her chest, and decides that she's going to be a hermit for the rest of the summer.

She glances at the motel walls, at the tacky wallpaper that Thomas would have never let his house be covered in. Guilt settles in her chest, because as the days pass, the details of his blur. His eyes are still blue, and his reddish hair is still sticking up in strange spots. She remembers his warm smile, and the way his hugs feel like the sun.

But it's all blurring together. If her heart is a pool, Thomas has stepped out, and the water is beginning to replace his absence.

Rosalie almost claws at her head for even thinking such a fact. She'll never replace her father, never forget him, never — she chokes on a sob. God, she misses him. Rosalie misses him and Delilah so much that sometimes she forgets to breathe.

Hana and Jia are settling next to Rosalie, rubbing circles on her back as Rosalie draws in a shuddery breath.

"Thank you," Rosalie whispers. Her head throbs from the amount of times she's cried. She sniffles, wiping the tears off her face. "I miss them."

"It has only been a few weeks," Jia says reasonably.

"I miss them too," Hana whispers, pressing a kiss to Rosalie's head. "I will miss them until the day I die."

Rosalie flinches. "Don't say that. You're not dying."

Hana clasps Rosalie's shaking hands. "No, I am not. I will be with you."

No, you won't, Rosalie thinks. You're going to be safe, safe away from me. And I'll be in Hogwarts.

But she smiles and nods. Her mother can handle this; so can she. Thomas and Delilah are her whole world, but she's lived for months without them. She can live the rest of her life without them.

Rosalie wants to bandage her bleeding heart, but the blood keeps dripping down to the floor.

Just wait a week, she tells herself. Rosalie can sob and scream and tear at walls when she's alone, when Hana's finally away, and when she doesn't have to be strong anymore.

Rosalie hates being strong.

The electric fireplace inside the motel room loudly crackles, causing Rosalie to almost fall over. Hana and Rosalie, broken and battered, steady themselves, prepared for another fight. Jia eyes the fireplace warily.

Through the false flames, a wizard arrives. Rosalie gapes, eyes widening at the silver beard, regal robes, and twinkling blues eyes behind half-moon spectacles.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," the flabbergasted witch greets.

"I would like to extend my deepest apologies over the attack that occurred," he says, no riddles to sugarcoat his words. "I am wishing the best for Thomas and Delilah."

"Thank you, sir," Rosalie says softly, the grief hitting her, begging her to acknowledge it. "Did you receive my letter?"

Dumbledore nods, directly addressing her family. "You and your family need protection from the Death Eaters, which I can provide."

"This is your Headmaster?" Jia asks, frowning.

Rosalie blanches. Shit. She forgot that Jia isn't supposed to know, at least in Dumbledore's eyes. Then again, he's also rumoured to read minds, so he would've found out, one way or another.

"Yes," Dumbledore says to Jia. "I assume you know about magic."

She stares defiantly. "Yes."

"Not a problem," Dumbledore assures lightly, his light eyes trained on Rosalie. The witch reels in shock. "You will be protected, as well. You should know the danger. I was going to ask Rosalie to inform you, anyway."

"What is the catch?" Hana asks as Rosalie blinks. "What can we do in return?"

"Oh, nothing," Dumbledore says lightly. "You are important."

For the first time, Rosalie thinks of her visions. Her fists clench, thinking about the faraway history that is failing to barrage her in her grief.

Not my grief, she thinks, but something else. Grief does not stop the past.

Then she's hit with Thomas's face, his smile, his words telling Rosalie to do it.

Hana eyes the lamp on the nightstand, before making direct eye-contact with Dumbledore. "We appreciate your offer. This is for all my family, correct? Jia, her husband, and her kids will also be protected as well."

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore insists. "We have a place for everyone."

Delilah's scared expression replays in her mind, those haunted blue eyes becoming lifeless as her body slumped to the floor —

"This breaks the Statute of Secrecy Law-thing, right?" Rosalie asks. "You're not supposed to tell anyone about me besides immediate family, but I'm assuming that this would count as an exception to the law."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkle. "Yes, this is an exception. However, if the Ministry intervenes, we can wipe their memories. It's not a problem."

Rosalie's stomach churns. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Obliviation is a complex process," Dumbledore agrees. "It would be most unfortunate."

"It will not happen," Jia chimes in. "You cannot touch me."

"I don't have to," is Dumbledore's reply.

Rosalie's blood runs cold, but Jia looks as unaffected as ever.

"But we are not that important," Hana says slowly, eyes narrowing. "Why protect us all? There are plenty of girls like Rosalie in your school, and plenty of families to look after. Are their offers accepted, also?"

"Multiple families are being protected," Dumbledore says, the spark in his blue eyes becoming more prominent. "You, however, are very important."

Hana frowns. "How so?"

"Mum, please," Rosalie whispers, even if she's confused at their importance, as well. Dumbledore can't possibly know about her visions, can he? And even if he does, what can she even do for him? She hasn't even been having her visions — no, she needs her relatives safe, the remaining ones, at least, no matter what. "Do we need his protection or not? He's the most powerful wizard of this time."

Dumbledore chuckles. "Why, thank you, Rosalie."

"I suppose," Hana concedes, "considering Rosalie was safe in your school. But she —"

"Shall not be staying with you," Dumbledore states, "as she needs to finish her schooling without any danger. No Death Eaters take lightly to not completing their mission, which is killing you."

Hana sighs. "That is a fair point. Rosalie said in your letter that she wanted to live alone, while we are all protected."

Dumbledore shakes his head. "I'm afraid you cannot live on your own, Rosalie. You are a Muggle-born, and Death Eaters will be after you, as well. I have a housing unit specifically for Hogwarts Muggle-borns; are you familiar with Diana Kapoor?"

"Yes, I am," Rosalie says, voice sounding baffled, recalling Acacia's close friend, the same girl from Sirius's disastrous birthday party. "I — that does work better than living alone, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," Hana agrees, relaxing slightly.

Dumbledore nods, before his eyes widen at the slightest. "That is a werewolf scratch, Rosalie."

Rosalie glances at her shoulder. "Yeah. Fenrir Greyback was there, but it wasn't a full moon. So I should be fine, right?"

Hana stares. "Is my daughter a werewolf?"

"Werewolf?" Jia asks. "Those are real?"

"You are not a werewolf, Rosalie," Dumbledore assures. "However, werewolf scratches can have slight repercussions, such as refined senses. Your magic could be affected — but any lasting effects are unlikely."

"Oh," she says, and the awkward silence has Hana clearing her throat.

"When are we leaving, then?" Hana asks. "I have details I would like to discuss with you, and I would like to know our exact arrangement. And Eonni needs to phone her family and see if they are willing, too."

"Of course." Dumbledore dips his head, voice serene. "We will leave in the evening in exactly seven days. We can discuss our arrangements now and tomorrow, if you don't mind."

The three adults drift off to the other side of the motel, leaving Rosalie, who is on the verge of tears.

As the night stretches on, Dumbledore leaves through the Floo, promising to be back when it's time. Rosalie finally falls asleep next to her mother, after years of separation and before years of more separation to come.

Her family is gone, but her mother will be safe. Rosalie tightly holds on to the last piece of love she has left, not wanting to let her beautiful, brilliant mother go. But she needs to, for safety. And then her mother can grieve freely without having to remain strong for Rosalie.

Rosalie can cry without having to remain strong for her mother.

Any curiosities as about Dumbledore's concerns fade away as Rosalie snuggles next to Hana. Rosalie's mother is safe, and that's all that she wants to hold onto.

And then she pauses, glancing at Fenrir's scratch, and then remembering her lack of visions. What if this is what Dumbledore meant? What if she's not having any visions because Fenrir scratched all the history out of her until it bled onto the floor?

After all, Rosalie has faced grief before. This wouldn't be the first time.

She stares at the ceiling, tears slipping past her cheeks. Her visions are gone at the expense of her family. She'd trade anything, even her quiet mind, just so she could have them again, be whole again.

Why? she wants to scream. Why is everything getting worse?

Eventually, her eyes flutter shut. The loss of her visions replays in the back of her mind, along with Dumbledore's voice, his knowing glance, and his accepted offer of protection.

Her dreams are filled with fire, flames Rosalie fails to put out.

And amongst the inferno, she stands, the heat crawling on her dead skin.

ACT TWO END.