Rose only realized how badly things had gone after they escaped the Ministry.
During the battle itself, there had been no time to think about injuries. Fear had kept her moving. Adrenaline had drowned out pain. The chaos inside the Department of Mysteries had consumed her attention completely, reducing the world to a series of immediate threats and desperate decisions. As long as Death Eaters surrounded them and Voldemort stood somewhere nearby, survival had been the only thing that mattered.
Now the battle was over.
The invisibility cloak had long since been removed, and the Ministry was behind them. As Tonks led her through the streets oLondon, reality began to catch up.
Rose felt exhausted.
Not merely tired, but drained in a way she had never experienced before. Every muscle in her body seemed to ache. Her shoulder throbbed where a curse had grazed her. Her ribs hurt whenever she took a deep breath. Even walking felt strangely difficult, as though her legs had suddenly remembered everything they had been forced to endure.
Around them, the city continued as normal.
People moved through the streets, completely unaware that a battle had just taken place beneath their feet. Shopkeepers opened their businesses. People chatted and laughed as they passed by.
Rose stumbled slightly, and as she caught herself, her gaze landed on Tonks.
For a moment she simply stared.
"Tons..."
Tonks glanced over her shoulder. "What?"
"You're bleeding."
The older witch followed Rose's gaze and looked down at her arm. Her sleeve was soaked red, and blood continued to drip steadily from beneath the torn fabric.
"Oh."
The response was so casual that Rose blinked.
"Oh?"
Tonks frowned at the injury as though she had only just remembered it existed.
"That's probably not good."
Rose stared at her in disbelief.
"Probably not good? You're bleeding!"
Tonks examined the wound for another moment before shrugging.
"Seen worse."
Then she flexed her arm and immediately winced.
"Alright. Maybe not by much."
Only then did Rose properly look at herself.
Her robes were a mess. Several cuts marked her forearms. Burn marks stained one sleeve, and a curse had torn away part of her clothing near the shoulder. Bruises were already beginning to darken beneath her skin.
The frightening part was that she couldn't even remember receiving most of those injuries.
The battle had been so intense that she had simply kept moving.
Tonks sighed and pulled out her wand. A series of quick healing charms closed the worst cuts on both of them. Several wounds vanished entirely, while others merely stopped bleeding.
"That'll keep us moving," she muttered.
Then she raised her wand and fired a burst of sparks into the air.
A loud bang echoed through the street moments later.
The Knight Bus appeared so suddenly that it nearly climbed onto the pavement before screeching to a halt. The conductor jumped out, took one look at the two battered witches, and immediately lost his cheerful expression.
"Emergency transportation?"
"Grimmauld Place," Tonks answered.
The conductor nodded at once.
"Get in."
The journey passed in a blur.
Rose barely paid attention as the bus hurtled through London. Her mind kept returning to the Department of Mysteries.
The prophecy.
Voldemort.
The battle.
And beneath all of it, a growing sense that something wasn't right.
By the time the Knight Bus delivered them to Grimmauld Place, she still couldn't identify the source of that feeling.
Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was already in chaos.
The moment the front door opened, Rose was greeted by a scene that reminded her uncomfortably of a hospital. Order members moved rapidly through the hallways carrying supplies. Several witches and wizards sat against walls receiving treatment. Others hurried between rooms carrying potions and medical equipment.
The entire house felt wounded.
Then a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"ROSE!"
Sirius appeared from the crowd so quickly that Rose barely had time to react.
The moment he saw her, all color drained from his face.
His eyes swept over the cuts, the torn robes, and the dried blood staining her sleeves. Then his gaze shifted toward Tonks and the injury on her arm.
Rose watched his expression change.
Concern became anger.
"What happened?"
Rose immediately tried to defuse the situation.
"Nothing serious—"
"Nothing serious?" Sirius repeated.
Tonks rolled her eyes.
"She's fine."
"You're bleeding."
"Occupational hazard."
Before the argument could continue, a healer marched toward them with the determined expression of someone who had already spent the day dealing with stubborn patients.
"No."
Everyone turned.
The healer pointed directly at Rose and Tonks.
"Infirmary. Now."
Sirius opened his mouth.
The healer pointed again.
"Out."
To Rose's complete surprise, Sirius actually obeyed.
Still muttering under his breath, he stepped aside while the healer herded them toward the infirmary.
The room had been magically expanded. Rows of beds filled the space, many already occupied by injured members of the Order. Some were unconscious. Others sat quietly while healers worked around them.
Rose was immediately forced into a bed and handed a series of potions that tasted increasingly horrible with each swallow.
Healing charms followed.
Cuts closed.
Bruises faded.
Burns disappeared.
By the time an hour had passed, Rose finally felt almost human again.
But whatever had been bothering her since leaving the Ministry remained.
When she and Tonks were finally released, Sirius was waiting.
The moment he saw them, he crossed the room.
"What happened?"
This time there would be no escaping the question.
Rose sighed and began explaining everything.
She told him about her secret mission. About the Hall of Prophecy. About Voldemort. About the Death Eaters. About the battle.
As she spoke, more people gathered.
Kingsley arrived.
Remus arrived.
Several injured Order members joined them.
Arthur was noticeably absent. Someone quietly explained that he had already been transferred to St. Mungo's along with several others.
Many of the injuries were serious.
Then the door opened.
Albus Dumbledore entered.
Conversation died instantly.
The Headmaster looked untouched.
Not a scratch marked his face. There were no burns on his robes. No signs whatsoever that he had spent the morning fighting the most dangerous Dark wizard in Britain.
He looked exactly as he always did.
Calm.
Collected.
Untouchable.
"Miss Potter," he said.
The words had barely left his mouth when Sirius moved.
Later, Rose would struggle to remember exactly what happened.
One moment Sirius was standing beside her.
The next, his fist slammed into Dumbledore's jaw with a crack that echoed throughout the room.
Gasps erupted.
Several people jumped to their feet.
Tonks looked horrified.
Remus froze.
Kingsley stared in disbelief.
Even Dumbledore seemed genuinely surprised as he staggered backward.
Sirius stood trembling with rage.
"You used her."
Nobody interrupted.
"You used Rose as bait."
Rose blinked in confusion, still trying to process Sirius's accusation.
"What?"
Sirius turned toward her immediately. His eyes were burning with a mixture of anger, fear, and something that looked dangerously close to betrayal.
"Think about it, Rose."
The room fell silent.
Sirius pointed toward the floor as if laying out evidence before a jury.
"You were escorted into the Ministry by Moody and Tonks. Two people. That's it." His voice grew sharper with every word. "No visible backup. No overwhelming force. Just enough protection to make sure you reached the Department of Mysteries."
Rose opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Sirius wasn't finished.
His gaze shifted toward Dumbledore.
"You knew Voldemort would come."
The accusation hung in the air.
Dumbledore said nothing.
For the first time since entering the room, the Headmaster looked old.
But he still didn't deny it.
Sirius laughed bitterly.
"You wanted him to come."
The silence that followed was somehow worse than shouting.
Rose felt a chill run through her body.
At first she wanted to reject the idea outright. Dumbledore wouldn't do that. He couldn't. Yet the more she thought about it, the more the pieces began falling into place.
The Order had known she was heading to the Ministry.
They had arrived remarkably quickly.
And Voldemort...
Voldemort had appeared exactly where Dumbledore needed him to appear.
In front of witnesses.
In front of Ministry officials.
In front of Aurors and Hit Wizards.
For the first time, Rose could see the shape of the plan.
And she didn't like what she saw.
Sirius continued relentlessly.
"If Voldemort appeared publicly, the Ministry could no longer deny his return. Fudge could no longer hide from reality. The Daily Prophet could no longer pretend everything was fine."
His voice cracked slightly.
"You needed witnesses."
"You needed proof."
"You needed Voldemort exposed."
The anger in Sirius's voice suddenly gave way to something else.
"So you put Rose where Voldemort could reach her."
That finally broke whatever fragile calm remained in the room.
Several people looked away.
Tonks lowered her eyes.
Remus looked exhausted.
Kingsley remained silent.
Because none of them could honestly deny it.
Eventually Dumbledore released a slow breath.
"It was necessary."
The words landed like a curse.
Rose stared at him.
"If the Ministry had continued denying Voldemort's return, thousands more could have died. Every day the truth remained hidden strengthened him. Every day the Ministry refused to act gave him more time."
His voice never rose.
"Today changed that. The truth is no longer hidden. The Ministry can no longer pretend. The war is finally out in the open."
Rose listened.
And somehow his calmness made it worse.
He wasn't even apologetic.
To him, this was simply mathematics.
One life risked to save thousands.
A sacrifice made for a greater purpose.
Sirius laughed again.
"You gambled with her life."
And suddenly Rose remembered a conversation she had once had with Helios.
At the time she had dismissed it.
She had even been annoyed by it.
Now those words returned with terrifying clarity.
"Dumbledore doesn't see individual trees."
"He sees the forest."
"As long as the forest survives, he'll sacrifice a few trees."
Back then, she had thought Helios was being unfair.
Now she wasn't so sure.
Because standing here, looking at Dumbledore's calm expression, she finally understood what Helios had meant.
Dumbledore genuinely cared.
He cared about everyone.
The entire wizarding world.
Every family.
Every child.
And because he cared about everyone, he sometimes forgot to care about individuals.
Rose suddenly realized she had walked straight into the trap.
Not Voldemort's trap.
Dumbledore's.
And somehow that realization hurt far more.
Without another word, she stood.
Several people looked toward her immediately.
"Rose—"
"No."
Her voice cut through the room.
For the first time since arriving, Dumbledore looked genuinely concerned.
Rose didn't even look at him.
"I don't want to hear it."
She turned and walked toward the fireplace.
Nobody tried to stop her.
Halfway there, Dumbledore spoke softly.
"You are alive because of the plan."
"I was in danger because of your plan"
Rose turned away before anyone could speak again. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fire.
"Hogwarts."
Green flames erupted around her.
A moment later she was gone.
The sitting room remained completely silent.
Even Sirius seemed drained now that the confrontation was over.
Across the room, Albus Dumbledore stood alone.
For perhaps the first time that day, the victory in the Department of Mysteries felt hollow.
Rose arrived at Hogwarts long after curfew.
The castle was silent. Most of the students had already gone to sleep, and the endless corridors that were usually filled with laughter and conversation now stood empty beneath the flickering torchlight. Her footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor as she made her way toward Gryffindor Tower.
Normally she loved Hogwarts at night.
There was something comforting about it. The quiet halls, the peaceful atmosphere, the feeling that the ancient castle itself was resting after another busy day. Tonight, however, she hated every second of it.
Everything hurt.
Not just her bruised body or the lingering soreness left behind by curses and healing spells. Her mind hurt. Her heart hurt. Most of all, her trust hurt.
The conversation at Grimmauld Place replayed endlessly inside her head.
Necessary.
Was she supposed to feel grateful?
Was she supposed to feel honored that her life had been placed on a scale and deemed an acceptable risk?
Rose honestly didn't know.
She was too exhausted to sort through her emotions.
Too angry to think clearly.
Too disappointed to simply ignore what had happened.
By the time she reached the corridor leading toward Gryffindor Tower, she felt as though she were moving on pure instinct.
Then a familiar voice broke through her thoughts.
"Rose!"
Hermione.
The brunette hurried toward her so quickly she nearly slipped on the polished stone floor. The moment she reached Rose, however, her expression changed completely.
Rose's robes were torn in several places. Burn marks stained the fabric. Healing salves still covered portions of her wrists and neck, and despite the treatment she had received, she looked pale and exhausted.
Hermione's eyes widened.
"Rose, where have you been?"
The questions came immediately.
"What happened?"
"Why do you look like that?"
"Are you hurt?"
"Did someone attack you?"
"Why weren't you in your dormitory?"
Normally she would have told Hermione everything.
She stopped walking and looked at her friend.
For a moment Hermione was startled by what she saw in Rose's eyes.
Exhaustion.
The kind that went deeper than physical injuries.
The kind that came from carrying too much for too long.
"I don't want to talk about it," Rose said quietly.
Hermione immediately fell silent.
The tone of her voice worried her far more than the injuries.
Rose rarely sounded defeated.
Tonight she did.
She looked as though the weight of the world had been dropped onto her shoulders.
"I just want to sleep."
Hermione's expression softened instantly.
"Okay."
"Do you need anything?"
Rose shook her head.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Hermione studied her for several seconds before finally nodding.
"Alright."
Then she reached out and gently squeezed Rose's shoulder.
"Good night."
For the first time all evening, a faint smile appeared on Rose's face.
"Good night."