No one talks about auras here, that's just something the Muggles talk about to try to identify their own powers. In our world you are judged on your wand work and perhaps even the things you can conjure. No one wants to see that some of our people have a light radiating from them in colours of red, blue and green. No one wants to see that some witches and wizards are born with special fairies the size of mites, flying around their entire bodies identifying their exceptional abilities. Even here, we like to control the meaning of the word Special. Even here, we mistake "famous" for "gifted".
I have seen many talented witches and wizards during my years here at school and on the journeys I have taken with my father. I have sat quietly, witnessing interviews and observing experiments to reveal truths to our world that no one seems particularly interested in. In our small group of friends, I have helped the biggest name of our time try to bring down the enemy of us all, but he didn't have a special power around him. Many think he does, but I know the truth. He has great abilities, no question about that, but he is not exceptional.
I think about these things as I watch one of the most amazing witches I have ever seen. We are in great danger of being destroyed and others are running for safety, but I can't move as I watch her walk onto the grounds of our school and join the other wizards who have powerful gifts. I watch her in utter fascination as she joins the teachers and adds her own power to the shield that now falls around our school. I have watched her for years, catching glimpses whenever I can. She has always been loved by her family and overlooked by the world. But now as she lifts her wand and shares in casting the spells of protection, the pinkish-red that has always surrounded her body closely, expands three feet outward and turns to a vivid violet.
No one can see this but me. No one understanding what this means, but I do. I wonder if she even knows the power she possesses, of if she just instinctively knows how to use it when she needs to. Oh how I wish she had been a teacher here instead of choosing a life at home with her children. I would have loved to sit at her feet and watch her radiate as she taught me secrets no one else knew to breathe.
I know I can't watch her forever, I have my own role to play in the battle we are about to begin. But when this is over I am going to find a way to sit at her feet. I want to know. I want to tell her that I know.
Perhaps Ginny will invite me home for crumpets.