She saw the family tree for the first time on her way to dinner. It was massive, sprawling over the entire wall, branches and letters twisting around in intricate designs. She looked to the oldest branch but there were no names she recognized. She tilted her head to read the scrawl of a lower name and heard a growling behind her.

Kreacher narrowed his eyes as he directed her to the dining room.

Dinner was formal – the black dress she had worn only barely passed muster. It was five courses and all French cuisine that Aurora had never seen before in her life. She tried to discretely watch the others to find clues about how to eat some of the dishes.

Regulus, perhaps picking up on her struggle, began to announce the course as they were placed on the table. Aurora was learning in this house that the time potion could only teach her so much – some things she had to discover on her own. There were different rules for formal dining than the Great Hall but by the time they finished the final course, she believed she had picked up on the major ones. The napkin should be placed in the lap, outer fork first, utensils always….

"It was a lovely meal," she said, smiling after she had patted her mouth with her napkin, mimicking Regulus.

"Thank you, dear," Walburga replied. "I must say my husband seems quite impressed with your knowledge of the founding of the major families."

"Yes," Orion said. "Quite impressed."

"It's been a special interest of mine since I was a child," she responded honestly.

"Did you have private lessons as a child?"

"Yes," she answered honestly. "Grandfather insisted."

Orion smiled warmly.

"And before your education at Hogwarts began this year, where did you study?"

There was a pause in the conversation as Aurora thought over her answer carefully.

"We know quite a few people," he continued with the same warm smile that inspired only coolness in Aurora's stomach. "And there's no record of an Aurora Townsend at any of the major schools. Not at Durmstrang, not at Hi –"

Regulus's jaw tightened. "Father –"

"It's curious, don't you think?" he asked, his smile still slinking across his face.

As much as his smile disturbed her, it inspired her too.

"You're very thorough, Mr. Black," Aurora said with a warm smile and icy tone of her own. "But it is curious, I suppose. You see, I've been homeschooled this whole time. My father died when I was quite young and my mother became ill a few years ago. It was decided I should spend my time near her while I had the chance." She looked at him without blinking. "She died over the summer and my grandfather asked Dumbledore to make an exception for me this year. And he did."

The Blacks stared at her.

"His first choice was Durmstrang or Koldovstoretz of course," she continued, slander against Hogwarts tasting like bile in her mouth. "But I wouldn't go….Don't like the cold."

"And how to do find Hogwarts?"

"It's….different than I expected."

"And your grandfather," Orion prodded, "he was pleased with your placement in Slytherin?"

She meet his gaze with her steely one. "He said there could be no other House for me."

The hosts gave approving nods.

"Well," Orion said, clapping his hands together. "Dessert is finished, shall we adjourn for the evening?" he asked his wife.

She nodded and turned to her son. "You'll inform Aurora about tomorrow?"

Regulus nodded and they all said goodnight.

As they left, Orion turned. "Our deepest condolences about your mother, Miss Townsend."

"Don't worry about me," she answered, an edge in her voice. "My mother taught me a lot before she died."

Orion's smile came back and Aurora's skin crawled. She had the feeling she had just passed another test.

"What's happening tomorrow?" she asked Regulus after his parents had left.

He sighed. "The rest of the Blacks are arriving."

"What?"

"The rest of the family," he explained. "We are hosting the Christmas dinner this year."

She thought for a moment. "Does that mean that your brother is –?"

"No."

She nodded.

"But it does mean that the whole house will be filled with even more prying questions," he said, looking at her. "I'm sorry about my dad. It's just, with your family history –"

"I know," she said quickly. "Believe it or not, this isn't the first time I've been asked those questions."

"I'm sorry about your mom."

"Thanks," she said, looking away. He sounded genuinely concerned and guilt was settling in her stomach over lying to him.

The lie, however, wasn't going anywhere. Like Regulus said, the whole house would be filled with Blacks asking questions the next day. Her stomach twisted at the thought. Later that night, she repeated her story in her head – she found it was calming. Her mind was racing. She had thought about Dumbledore's warming before – but never so much about what these people might do to her if they found out the truth.

Now that idea terrified her now.

But she couldn't leave. Leaving would be rude and, more importantly, leaving would be suspicious. She was already suspect enough.

She would stay and she would do this. She had to. She had always been very good at doing the things she had to do.

Walking across the room she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair was tousled and her dress was simple. She looked like any girl in the train station.

That wasn't good. She wasn't just any girl – and that certainly wasn't what the Blacks were looking for.

Slowly, she smiled. She had been going about this wrong. The Blacks weren't Hogwarts students spreading rumors without facts. These people knew who she was – or, at least, who her family was – and they liked it.

She could do this. She could win them all over.

She just had to make herself more presentable.