The alarm clock trilled, though she had been awake for several hours. She'd been thinking about her last visit to Azkaban, those rough stone walls and that crashing sea. That thin, increasingly gaunt face.

'I thought you didn't want to see me anymore.'

'No,' she assured him. 'I told you, I was very ill.'

She rose from her bed. The cameras and press would be gathering, right now, their chatter and clicks filling the atrium, but her flat was silent as she went to the kitchen.

Toast. Brown bread.

Harry would be getting ready too, probably searching for his medal with the baby on his hip, maybe shouting for Ginny to help. She stared at nothing as she imagined it, her teeth crushing and tearing the crusts of the toast, her mind on the fierce scarlet of his robes.

'While I was ill… I came to some realisations,' she told him. 'I… I became very angry.'

She stepped into the shower, and moved the tap from hot to icy cold. She felt it sting at her skin, and closed her eyes. Breathe steady now. She raised her arm, and practiced the move.

'I know who you need to speak to,' he replied. 'About your anger. If you really mean it.'

Ginny would be coming too; they would wrap the little newborn against her chest. The cameras would love it, the journalists would be falling over themselves to get to them. Baby Potter's first outing to the wizarding world, as his father returned to work.

'Yes, I really mean it, Dennis. Things have to change.'

She dressed into her formal robes. The last time she had worn these was the day she had been assigned to him, almost exactly three years ago. Her fingers moved nimbly over the shiny buttons, and she pulled her hair into a perfect bun. She needed the boots with the extra inch on the heel. Strap the knife on beneath the red sleeve. Don't forget the lipstick.

It was time to go. She went through her flat. Turn off the water supply. Shut off the lights. Pop a few more things in the attic space for safe keeping. One last look.

A twist and a crack.

As expected, the atrium was filled with the flashing glare of the press, bouncing off the buttons of the formal robes. Judy and Matt waved to her, but she walked through the rows of chairs with a roaring sound in her ears, as though she were deep underwater.

She saw him, with his family, and Robards, at the base of the stage. She approached.

'You good to go?' he asked her, smiling. She nodded.

'We'll be starting in five minutes,' Robards growled, glancing at his watch. 'You both know your roles?' But he didn't wait for an answer, just stormed off.

'I suppose you should both get on stage,' said Ginny warmly, a large, heavy looking nappy bag slung over her shoulder. She looked at Theia meaningfully. 'Congratulations on qualifying.'

'Thank you,' said Theia, her mouth dry.

Harry grasped her shoulder. 'Don't be nervous, it'll be fine.' Then he turned to Ginny, and kissed her. Theia felt the cameras flash, saw the couple illuminated in silver. Then he leaned down and kissed the head of the baby boy Ginny was holding, who was sleeping soundly.

She couldn't hear, but she saw his lips move as he muttered something against the tuft of dark hair, saw his hand move to hold one of the tiny little hands, and then caress the baby's chubby cheek. And then he whispered something to Ginny, and Theia looked away.

Then she felt his hand on her elbow as he gently pushed her towards the steps onto the stage, and then she went to sit on the chairs to the left, and he went to stand with the other senior aurors on the right.

They waited, the rest of the chairs being filled, the press jostling for better positions, the chatter winding down into excited whispers.

Finally, it was time, and Robards stepped forward to the podium. He greeted them all. He told some joke. Theia felt sick as there was a rumble of laughter.

'-And today we gather to welcome the largest number of newly qualified aurors to the department since 1939,' Robards was saying.

She stared out stoically. The words and laughter of those around her were like echoes, the only thing she could hear clearly was her own breathing.

The names started to be called, and from the chairs around her the other trainees would rise, and proudly march forward to rapturous applause, shake the hand of their mentor, and go to stand beside them - finally, a qualified auror.

'Theia Higglesworth.'

She rose. There was a ringing sort of noise, everything else muffled. The cameras were more furious as she walked out, because Harry had stepped forward too. The light of it all was blinding, bouncing off the shining Order of Merlin on his chest.

So bright was it, she could only just make out his reassuring smile at her. Her heart was in her throat, there was a tingling of terrible adrenaline prickling from her chest down through to her feet.

He held out his hand, and she took it to shake. She felt his fingers squeeze her cold palm. Then, with her other, she flicked her wrist - the hidden knife slid easily into her hand. There was so much light that no one on stage would see. The motion was fluid, swift, deliberate.

She stabbed him.

The green eyes widened, there was a gurgle as the blood spurted from the base of his throat. He clutched a hand to it and dropped to his knees.

She didn't give them time to react, or realise what had happened. The last thing Theia heard before she twisted and vanished was the surprised yells of the crowd and, above it all, Ginny Potter's horrified scream.