5.1 Overthinking Everything. Like Usual.

There was a little square of cloudless blue sky visible through the top pane of a window in the common room, and Rose tried to ignore it from her seat near the fire. With the nice weather waning and a Scottish winter on the very near horizon, most students spent as much time out on the grounds each day as they could manage. Every night this week, Rose had been able to do homework in the common room from dinner until curfew, as the place was deserted until dark. She'd even rescued a group of Hufflepuffs on Thursday when they'd stayed out too long and been locked out of the castle.

The Quidditch team was in double practices - they had the first game of the season the weekend after Halloween, only two weeks away, and many of her housemates chose to spend their evenings and weekends in the stands watching. After last year's humiliating defeat to the Slytherins led by Malfoy, their house pride was wounded and Quidditch fervor built daily. From first through seventh year, the entire house spent meals discussing strategies and identifying the weaknesses in the other teams, starting with the Slytherins. Woollongong Shimmies, Porskoff Ploys... even the Starfish and Stick became common subjects for the most novice Quidditch fans.

James put together a strong team, although from the outside, it looked as if he hadn't gone further than his own family tree at try-outs. With James, Fred, and Al returning as Seeker, Beater, and Chaser respectively, and the addition of little Roxanne as the new Beater this year, more than half of the starting team was a Weasley relative. There had been some grumbling from those who hadn't made the team, rumors that James had rigged try-outs to ensure his kin would succeed and rumors that he'd been busier flirting with girls in the stands than in watching the performances on the field.

Rose found the allegations laughable, although she could understand the frustration an outsider might feel. How could any other potential Beater compete against Rox, for example, when she'd been dodging and returning Bludgers from Fred since she was old enough to sit on a broom? How could anyone slip easily into broom drills with a group that had been flying together, in some cases, since they were toddlers? Even the non-familial players were older Gryffindors that had been playing with the team for several years. James had it made, really. In spite of his own deficiencies as a captain, he'd been presented with a very good team nearly intact. Only an idiot could screw that up, and James wasn't stupid.

To Rose's discerning eye, the Gryffindors had a very real chance of winning everything this year. The other captains would need to play against the weaknesses of the team and against James as captain, which shouldn't be difficult for the captains that played Quidditch as a game of strategy. Unfortunately, in her estimation, most at Hogwarts played Quidditch as a bloodsport: a lot of flash and noise, a lot of focus on speed and brutality, and none of the attention to detail and planning that went into play at the professional level. James complained that Rose didn't appreciate the game and that her suggestions in improving how the team played were entirely too academic. According to James, if one didn't have some sort of passionate love for Quidditch, he or she wasn't really a fan of the game and had nothing to contribute. On the contrary, Rose appreciated any good game of strategy, which was one of the reasons she could read about ancient wizarding wars with any sort of comprehension. James might discount her ideas because she didn't love to fly, but if Rose could spot the Gryffindor weaknesses, it was a fair bet someone else had seen them as well.

Today, however, practice had been put off in favor of Hogsmeade. The weather was perfect for a visit to the village, and the common room had been empty since just after breakfast, much to Rose's pleasure. Not only was she able to get prodigious amounts of work accomplished, but she only had a few younger students to manage through the morning. Al had tried to talk her into visiting the village, but Rose begged off. Who would watch over things if all six prefects were in Hogsmeade? They'd had at least one medical incident every weekend since start of term, and Rose was sure she'd be required soon. Last Saturday, Fred had stumbled over a group of first years while flinging a muzzled Fanged Frisbee at James. He'd squashed three fingers and sent two students tumbling over the back of the sofa. Based on the precedent, Rose knew that someone was sure to find himself accidentally ablaze today, and she wanted to be around to help.

Jayne worked harder to get Rose to accompany her to the village, and it was difficult to turn her down. Especially with that little patch of blue sky promising that the weather was ideal. Especially with Jayne nearly kneeling on the floor at Rose's feet, hands clasped in supplication. "Please don't make me go by myself. Please."

"You should have gone with Al."

"I couldn't." Jayne swiped hair out of her eyes, drawing Rose's attention to the fact that she was wearing it down around her face for the first time in nearly... ever. Not only that, but her blue eyes were exaggerated and dark with make-up, and Jayne was wearing a skirt. As someone who understood just how difficult a transformation could be, not just the act of doing but the courage to step out as someone other than who people expected you to be, Rose couldn't possibly make light of Jayne's changed appearance. But it was strange. Something was definitely going on, and the fidgeting way Jayne played with the sleeve of her jumper suggested that she required Rose's presence for more than just company. It ate at her to say no, but she did.

"They need me here. How would it look if I just pranced down to the village instead of doing my job?"

"It would look like you had a life, actually. Like you had interests other than school work. Like... you were my friend." Jayne crossed her arms under her ribcage, her expression cross. "Nevermind. When Rosie's mind is made up..."

"I'll go next time." She probably wouldn't. If she was the only prefect responsible enough to watch the common room, then she would continue to be required here. True as.

"You won't. It doesn't matter. I wanted you this time." And Jayne left with a very neat flip to her short hair. If Rose hadn't known that Jayne never wore her hair down, she'd believe it had been well rehearsed.

Rose finished her work, including the History of Magic essay that wasn't due for nearly a month, and she chased the first and second years down to the Great Hall for lunch. It had been a productive morning, and now she was free to relax in the common room with an interesting text until everyone returned at dinner time. If only that blue sky wasn't so very pretty and so very tempting... Rose sighed, tugging her plaited hair into a blindfold across her face. Now, she couldn't see a thing, and she wasn't remotely tempted to shirk her responsibilities and skip off to Hogsmeade. Even though it was the perfect time of year for spiced pumpkin cider at the Three Broomsticks, and she really wanted to look for a new quill after breaking the point on her favorite during Potions.

Did Jayne have a point? Were the actions that were intended to prove she was a responsible prefect and the perfect candidate for Head Girl also showing the world that she lacked depth and caring? Was being a super prefect perhaps preventing her from being a good friend? And did Headmaster Flitwick even look at those other qualities? She'd made a long list over the summer of those things she believed were most important qualities for the Head Girl to have, and compassion and balance were on that list. Surely that meant that locking herself up in the common room as if on punishment was actually a detriment to her chances at getting the position she desired.

Why couldn't it be easy? Why couldn't Flitwick just lay out his expectations for them in a clear and organized fashion, or assign a point system? Why did she have to spend all this effort trying to figure out what she must do in order for other people to realize what she'd known since she first came to Hogwarts - there was no one better suited to the position of Head Girl than Rose Weasley? She'd known since she was 11 that she wanted to be Head Girl, but it had only been in more recent years that Rose had realized the position wouldn't fall to her simply because she wanted it. Or even because she deserved it. Somehow, she had to prove that she was the only person who could do the job in their entire year.

It wasn't as if she wanted it for selfish reasons, either. Perhaps she was a little selfish, because she liked to be in charge, but there was more than that. A Weasley getting made prefect or Head wasn't exactly a new thing anymore, not with six cousins ahead of her in school over the last 13 years. Since Vic had made Ravenclaw prefect, there had been a Weasley in charge somewhere in the school every year since. There was no possible way Rose could distinguish herself simply by being another Weasley head anything, nor would she want to coast along on title alone. Fred was making a fool of himself doing just that. No, Rose had plans to make a legacy at Hogwarts. She would be remembered, the way her parents were remembered. She would not be just another Weasley.

The trouble with wanting a legacy was twofold. For the first trouble, that she had to be chosen as Head Girl, Rose already had her plan in place, and it was a simple one. Be awesome. Be so completely awesome that the other female sixth year prefects, Zabini and Egerton and Puckeridge, paled in comparison. It was probably bold of her, but she felt like that was the easy part. The second trouble was less easy to resolve: she could only have a legacy as Head Girl if her corresponding Head Boy was cooperative. No one like Fred, who was content just to ride out the year with an extra shiny badge pinned to his robes. And definitely no one like Shacklebolt, who was a glory hog and had plans of his own. No, Rose had vetted every possible male, and there was only one person she could trust to help with her legacy. There was only one person with which she was willing to share leadership: Albus Severus Potter. It had to be Al. She'd known it since the summer when she'd spent time creating pro and con lists, flowcharts, and checklists to facilitate her planning process. So what if he didn't think he wanted it? So what if he wasn't currently a prefect or otherwise acting as leader in the school? This was her Al. She hadn't been able to do a thing when Longbottom and Flitwick passed him over for prefect, although it had caused her a great deal of pain. In spite of the fact that Al acted as if he wasn't bothered, he was still the first Weasley in this generation not to be promoted to leadership. It probably hurt him terribly. If she looked at it from a certain angle, Al as Head Boy would right some very great wrongs. So there again... it wasn't as if she was being selfish. She needed a Head Boy that would always be on her side, and Al needed to be Head Boy so that he'd have a legacy at Hogwarts. If that wasn't perfect symmetry, then Rose didn't know what was.

Sigh. She peeked at the blue sky again, now showing the trailing end of some wispy cloud. Heading to Hogsmeade was the mark of a well-adjusted witch, right? Wasn't that what Jayne had suggested? And sitting here in the common room was clearly allowing Rose far too much time in her own head. Without the journal she'd left hidden in the library (still without protective enchantments... she really needed to rectify that soon), she could only torture herself for so long before she snapped, and her rolling around on the floor playing Destroy the Common Room by herself wasn't going to garner her any support in the quest to be Head Girl. Her mind was made up.

Stretching out like a cat in the sun, Rose uncurled slowly from her spot on the couch and padded toward the dormitory stairs. There was still time to enjoy the afternoon in the village.