Harry Potter Next Generation: Family Legacy

Chapter Thirty-Two: Last Connections (Rose)

 It was two weeks and one day since Professor McGonagall had sent my parents a letter about what I had done to Scorpius. I had expected them to be quicker at it, but my Mum cared so much about house-elves and my Dad was so busy with fighting other wizards sometimes they took a very long time to do anything. Even remember Hugo and I's birthdays.

They sent a letter, using Mum's work owl, Percival. The snow white bird stood out amongst the others, circling above the Great Hall, until it swooped down and landed expertly on the Ravenclaw table.

Thankfully, although I'd never admit it, they hadn't sent a Howler. Just a plain white letter with the gold words "Rose Weasley".

"Give that to me, Percival," I muttered, snatching the letter out of the owl's beak. A moment later it bit my hand, blood splattering on the white letter. I glared at it. "You stupid owl!" I hissed, and wrapped my bleeding fingers in my black and blue robes. With a ruffle of his feathers and an ignorant hoot, Percival flapped off, back into the sky.

I opened my fingers, wincing as the paper touched my wound. I pulled out two pieces of parchment, and decided to read Mum's first. Best get the worst over first.

Rose Nymphadora Weasley. Do you know what you have DONE? 

I would've written the night McGonagall told us about what you did to that poor Malfoy boy, but your father was on a trip for the Auror Office and I was in the middle of signing a house-elf to represent themselves in the Ministry.

How could you! Scorpius Malfoy could've died, Rose, died! And that's not the worst thing. Your teachers have been sending us letter after letter, complaining about your behavior. Rudeness, you yell at your housemates! This is not the way that we raised you.

You are grounded for all of summer vacation. That means no going to Quidditch games with your father, or even going to Diagon Alley or the Ministry.

I just can't write anymore— Hermione Weasley-Granger

I dropped Mum's letter on the ground like it had burned me. No going to the Ministry? But if I get the job, then I can't go!

I clenched my jaw together. "I hate you, Mum," I said. "You're just afraid that I'm going to be better. Not that it would take much energy. House-elf rights!" I snorted, and sent every bit of guilt and regret far away, and brought anger out instead. I did it with the guilt I felt after Vanishing Scorpius's broom, I could do it again.

Shooting my hand out like a viper I grabbed Dad's letter and opened it angrily. With any hope he would be better than Mum's approach. I was wrong.

Rosie!

I am disgusted and appalled at what you did to Malfoy. Sure, he's a Malfoy, but you do not vanish someone's broom at a QUIDDITCH match!

I don't know if you have looked at your actions, but if you did you would be disgusted at yourself— (I'm not, I thought)— and you better go and apologize to Malfoy or I'll come to Hogwarts myself and make you.

Shape up your behavior— Dad.

I released Dad's letter, and looked at both of the letters, filled with disgust at me. I withdrew my wand and looked around, making sure that none of the teachers were looking at me.

"Vermilious," I whispered. My wand issued a jet of red sparks, which landed on the papers and started to burn it. A thin waft of smoke drifted up to the enchanted ceiling, and I watched as the last connections to my parents crumbled into ashes.

Good-bye, I thought.