Flora And Fawna [HARRY POTTER]

28

Rosie couldn't sleep. She'd been trying to get to sleep for the last three hours but the only thing she had accomplished was making a mess of her bedding. Slowly she had watched the hours tick by, reminding herself that she had a maths paper to finish the next day, until she couldn't any longer. Rosie sat up, swung her feet to the floor, and got up.

She didn't make a sound as she padded down to the kitchen.

Most of Rosie's fondest childhood memories were of Petunia. Petunia caring for her. Petunia combing her hair. Petunia buying her ice cream. In fact, very few of Rosie's memories didn't have Petunia in them. At least so far as Rosie could remember.

Rosie had had a fear of the dark when she was little. When she was very young she and Lily shared a room, because their parents thought that Petunia would want a room of her own since she was the eldest. This ordinarily wouldn't have been a problem except Lily's magic had been unintentional at the time and she often cast spells in her sleep.

Of course Rosie was seven years younger than her second oldest sister, so she had no idea that she was seeing magic instead of monsters during the night. Rosie would wake up to see one of Lily's stuffed toys bobbing over her crib and she would scream.

The one memory Rosie had of her parents, they had died when she was quite young, was of her mother rushing into she and Lily's room when Rosie would cry out in the night. Their mother was a wonderful woman, if not a little biased towards her middle daughter. Every time Rosie would wake up frightened, her mother would come and carry her down into the kitchen.

Rosie remembered that, as she herself tiptoed into the kitchen alone, many years later. She remembers how her mother would tell her that warm milk could fix any problem, because it healed the spirit. She remembered how her mother's warm milk always tasted like Christmas and she remembered how her mother's hugs always made her feel like she had nothing to fear.

*******

Rosie wasn't sure how long she had been sitting in the kitchen, drinking her warm milk when the phone rang. The sound was so startling that she nearly dropped her glass, but she was quick to answer it so that it didn't wake Petunia and Vernon.

"Hello?" Rosie asks, wondering who on earth could be calling so early.

Mrs. Figg.

"Rosie, Dear, I was just up tending to one of my potions when I happened to look out my window. There's someone standing outside your door!" Rosie had never heard the little Mrs. Figg sound so concerned. "I was going to call the police but I wanted to make sure you were all okay first."

Rosie rose from her kitchen chair and padded out to the living room, where she could see the front steps if she looked out the window. There was, in fact, a large shape standing on the steps, bent over something on the ground.

As she watched, the figure stood back up and simply disappeared.

Rosie blinked.

"I believe it was a wizard, Mrs. Figg," Rosie said calmly, noting that the figure had left something on the porch. A bundle of sorts that seemed to be almost squirming. "He disappeared and left something behind."

Rosie ignored the old woman's cautionary words as she scrambled away from the window towards the door. November was only a few days away and whatever was on the porch was alive, and exposed to the sharp october night air. She flung the door open and looked down. There, sitting on the steps, was a little baby with green eyes and an angry red gash on his forehead.

*******

Morning light was just beginning to peek in through the frilly lace curtains when Petunia waddled downstairs, Dudley on her hip. Dudley was known as an early riser so it wasn't really surprising for Petunia to see he was up before the sun once again. What did surprise her was to see Rosie awake and sitting in the rocking chair she often rocked Dudley to sleep in.

Petunia went to say something, but she found herself pausing.

Rosie was humming, now that Petunia stopped to listen. Her voice was soft and sweet, and it almost reminded Petunia of how she herself had rocked Rosie when Rosie was an infant. Petunia's voice had been nowhere near as sweet as Rosie's, but it was a similar melody.

Dudley crooned at the sound of his favorite aunt's voice so Petunia stepped closer to see what exactly Rosie was humming for. What she saw scared her stiff.

Rosie was good with children, which she had shown time and time again with any baby she came across. She knew how to quiet them, how to calm them, and how to feed them. She was a natural motherly type.

The little baby in her arms seemed to agree, because he was sleeping silently.

"What is that, Rose?" Petunia only ever called Rosie by her actual name when Rosie was in trouble. However the third year witch paid her no mind, she just kept rocking and humming.

"It's a baby," She smiled softly, prompting her sister to step even closer. The first thing Petunia noticed, after the fact that it was a living, breathing baby, was that it had a horrible mark on it's forehead that looked like it would leave a rather nasty scar. Petunia didn't even scold her youngest sister for stating the obvious.

"Yes, but whose is it?" Petunia spoke softly so as not to wake the little thing. He was so small he looked like he would crumble to pieces if he was startled.

Rosie nodded her head towards the basket she had found the baby in. She'd noticed there was a note, before she had taken the baby into her arms and frantically tried to warm him, but she hadn't read it yet. She thought it had Petunia's name on it anyhow.

Rosie didn't look up to see her sister carry Dudley over to the basket and pick of the letter. She also didn't look up when her sister let out a sharp little gasp and trotted back over.

"He's Lily's," Petunia said softly. "Lily died last night and he's come to us. We're all he's got left."

Rosie's heart cracked.

Neither she nor Petunia particularly liked Lily, for different reasons. But neither sister wanted to see her dead. And to hear that she left a baby alone in the world was heart wrenching for both women.

As if sensing their distress, the baby cradled in Rosie's arms opened his eyes slowly, wriggled around a bit, and let out a great yawn. Both women paused. His eyes were green. Like his mother's. Like their mother's. Like Rosie's.

"We've got to look after him now, Tunia. We can't let him go anywhere else. You know he'll be magic just like his Mummy and he'll need to be taught to control it. We can't send him away for some non magical orphanage to tell him that he's a freak."

Petunia held her son closer to her chest.

"But-"

"We have to, Tunia. I'll look after him if you don't want to but one way or another, I'm not letting my nephew be raised by strangers."

Petunia held Dudley for a moment longer, before she relented and set him down to waddle off like most two year olds were known to do. She looks into the baby's green eyes again and sees Rosie's. Not Lily's

"He'll need clothes, and milk. Some of Dudley's old ones will have to do for now but we can go into town in the morning."

Rosie's face crumple with relief and she pulled the baby closer to her, let it burry it's little face in her neck.

"What's his name?" She asked softly, going back to her rocking and humming.

Petunia looked down at the scene, wondering if she made the right choice.

"His name is Harry Potter."