The halls of the Department of Mysteries were eerily quiet, the air thick with the weight of magic and the memories of battles fought here. Rose Potter, her unruly black hair tied back in a loose braid, stood before the Veil of Death. The ancient archway was simple, yet it radiated an otherworldly pull that made her heart ache. Beyond its fluttering, spectral curtain, she swore she could hear whispers—voices calling to her.
It had been mere days since she defeated Voldemort. The Elder Wand, now fully loyal to her, rested in her grip, its polished surface glowing faintly under the dim lighting. She had spent those days attending funerals, speaking to survivors, and trying to console those left behind. Yet, for all her efforts, there was a hollow ache in her chest that no amount of victory could fill.
She wasn't sure what had brought her here. The war was over. Voldemort was gone. The wizarding world was free, yet Rose felt adrift, untethered. The title of "Master of Death" was one she had barely considered since she'd retrieved the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand. Now, as she stood before the Veil, it felt as though the universe was trying to remind her of what that title truly meant.
Her godfather, Sirius Black, had died here. His laughter, always so full of life, had been silenced in an instant as Bellatrix's curse struck him. He had fallen into this very Veil, and no one had been able to retrieve him. Not even Dumbledore.
She reached into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the Resurrection Stone. Turning it over in her hand, she whispered, "Sirius."
The stone remained cold and unresponsive. No phantom figure appeared to offer her comfort or guidance.
Rose clenched her fists. I've faced death before. What's one more step?
The Veil rippled as if responding to her thoughts. The whispers grew louder, indistinct but beckoning. The sensation was no longer just grief—it was a tug, an invitation.
"Why not?" she whispered to herself. "What's left for me here?"
Her grip on the Elder Wand tightened. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. The world around her blurred and twisted as the Veil's magic enveloped her. She felt weightless, spinning through an endless void where time and space seemed to dissolve.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over.
---
Rose landed hard on a cold, metallic floor, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She groaned, pushing herself up on shaky arms. Her surroundings were dimly lit, the air heavy and sterile. The walls were smooth, unyielding metal, and there was no sign of the Veil—or anything remotely familiar.
"What in Merlin's name...?" she muttered, her voice echoing slightly.
A soft clinking sound drew her attention. Chains. Rose turned her head to see a figure sitting cross-legged in the shadows. Pale skin, long unkempt hair, and sharp green eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. The woman watched Rose with an expression of intense curiosity, her lips curving into a faint smile.
"Well now," the woman said, her voice lilting and melodic. "What a curious little thing you are."
Rose scrambled to her feet, raising her wand instinctively. "Who are you? Where am I?"
The woman tilted her head, her smile widening. "I am Glaistig Uaine, the Fairy Queen. And you, my dear, are in the Birdcage."
Rose frowned. "The Birdcage? I don't know what that is. I was just—" She paused, looking around again. "I was somewhere else. A different world. How did I end up here?"
Glaistig's laughter was soft, almost musical. "The threads of fate weave strange patterns, little one. You stepped through the threshold, and it brought you to me."
"That doesn't answer my question."
The Fairy Queen rose gracefully, her chains clinking softly with the movement. She moved closer, stopping just a few feet away. Rose's wand hand trembled slightly, but she held her ground.
"You are not of this world," Glaistig said, her tone almost reverent. "I can see it in your soul. You carry power not born of a Shard."
Rose narrowed her eyes. "A Shard? What are you talking about?"
Glaistig ignored the question, her gaze never leaving Rose. "You are an anomaly. A disruption to the grand design. I wonder... are you the answer I have been waiting for?"
Rose took a step back. "Look, I don't know who you are or what you're talking about, but I need to get out of here."
Glaistig smiled again, but this time there was something predatory in her expression. "Then perhaps we can help each other. This prison was not meant to hold someone like you—or me, for that matter. Together, we could walk free. But first, little sorceress, I would like to know your name."
Rose hesitated. There was something unsettling about this woman, but she also had the distinct feeling that she couldn't afford to make an enemy of her.
"Rose," she said finally. "Rose Potter."
The name seemed to amuse Glaistig. "Rose. A delicate thing, yet armed with thorns. Very well, Rose Potter. Let us see what havoc we can unleash upon this world."
Rose didn't like the sound of that, but before she could respond, the Fairy Queen turned away, her chains rattling as she began to walk. "Come," Glaistig said, glancing back over her shoulder. "We have much to prepare."
Reluctantly, Rose followed. The Birdcage, whatever it was, didn't seem like the kind of place she wanted to stay. She could only hope that this alliance wouldn't end up being a terrible mistake.