She remembered that time when she was sitting on the grass around the Burrow, in the company of a scrawny, insecure eight-year-old boy with big, piercing green eyes. It was a warm spring day and the grass hit by the warm rays of the sun was bright green. Colorful butterflies were flying around the two children, while a soft, green caterpillar was crawling up the boy's jeans. Rose was telling Albus a story, the story of an ancient castle and the Wizards and Witches who founded it.