The next morning, Kreacher woke her again. The Blacks were gathering in the solarium for brunch.
The solarium was closer to a greenhouse – even in December, it was filled with greenery. Aurora joined the group wearing a causal burgundy dress made from another of her robes. Everyone seemed to be wearing black – it looked like a funeral for a fern.
"Aurora!" Walburga greeted her warmly. "Did you sleep well?"
Aurora thought she saw a look exchange between Orion and Lucretia but she ignored it and smiled back. "Wonderfully, thank you."
Trays of cakes and sandwiches were passed around while the guests lounged on couches and cushions. She sat in a corner, making sure she could discreetly watch the whole room. Regulus came to sit down next to her.
"Do you regret coming yet?"
She smiled again, more naturally this time. "Of course not."
"Good," he said. "Because my grandfathers have requested you sit next to them at dinner tonight."
For a moment Aurora's heart stopped. Was it because she and Sirius had been seen last night? Did the Blacks know? She worked to keep her fear off her face.
"Of course I would be delighted to honor their request."
Regulus looked at her strangely, but she kept her eyes on the other guests.
The afternoon passed quickly. Orion produced board games and the family spent the day playing them in the parlor. They were modern games and often Aurora had to watch carefully to understand the rules. Regulus had just began to teach her Exploding Snaps when they were dismissed for dinner. As they climbed the stairs to get ready, everyone was smiling and laughing.
In the guest wing, Aurora selected a dark green gown for her meeting with Regulus's grandfathers. They were both blood Blacks – his parents were cousins – and she was sure they were going to be difficult to please. Smoothing her dress, she pulled on a pair of black gloves and stared at herself in the mirror. She took a deep breath and went down to the dining room.
She found her seat near the head of the table, where Orion sat. She was next to Pollux and directly across from Arcturus. They were already seated, waiting at the table and they both stood when she arrived.
Everyone else arrived to the table soon and they were all dressed splendidly. As soon as the final guest took a seat, the table before them transformed into a Christmas feast. As they ate, the grandfather's stared at her. She kept her expression calm, if reserved.
"Your grandfather," Arcturus said suddenly, "where is he?"
"Glastonbury," she answered simply.
Just after she had arrived, Dumbledore had told her about the varying Townsends alive in the modern world. Because of the popularity of name-changing in the fourteenth century (and the lack of recording-keeping in the pre-Ministry world) even the headmaster had difficulty identifying which ones were her actual kin. But he mentioned a recluse bachelor who lived in Glastonbury. The man had no close neighbors and he kept to himself. They had decided that, should anyone ask, he would be her fictional guardian.
Aurora had never asked if Dumbledore had actually spoken with the man about the arrangement but it occurred to her only then that she would need to make sure he did. The Blacks were thorough – it wouldn't be long until one of them 'accidentally' dropped by Glastonbury.
"Glastonbury, eh?" Arcturus said, in a way that made her think she would need to get word to Dumbledore as soon as possible.
"Beautiful countryside," Pollux raved.
"Yes," she agreed.
"And Orion tells us that you were educated by your mother? At home?" Arcturus spoke the final part of the question with more derision than would have been considered polite from a younger speaker.
Aurora did not flinch. "Yes."
"Now, Archie," Pollux scolded. "Home education was an important part of our culture for centuries."
"My grandfather is very old-fashioned," Aurora added.
"Of course," said Arcturus, with a slow nod. "And your mother –"
"Arcturus!"
"Yes, condolences, very sorry, my dear girl," he said. "But do tell me what did your mother do, before she died? And what was her name?"
Ah.
Aurora's heart stopped for a single beat.
"Her name was Imogen," she said slowly.
No, no.
"And she was a seamstress."
Her thoughts went silent, but a small voice whispered in her head. What have you done?
To make up a lie was one thing, but to give Godric's mother's information instead was something else entirely.
But it had needed to be done. She hadn't had the time to come up with own her own story – not a proper one anyway. Obviously she couldn't tell the truth and her own mother's name and profession was not something she could hesitate about when asked a direct question.
After what she had seen the previous night, she was more frightened by the Blacks than she had been before. And now, sitting before Arcturus with his beady black eyes and unending questions…..
"How old was she when she died?"
"Thirty-seven."
"What color was her hair?"
"Blonde."
"What color were her eyes?"
"Blue," she said. "Like mine."
Next to her, Pollux was gasping at – what was Arcturus? His brother? No, his cousin? – behavior. "That is enough," he scolded.
Everyone had stopped eating and was watching the interrogation.
Arcturus didn't stop.
"And your father? His name?"
"Adrian."
"When did he die?"
"When I was four."
"Of what?"
"Rage, I suppose. He was killed in a duel."
"And your mother? What caused her untimely death?"
"Illness" she answered simply. "We tried to cure it but it kept coming back, worse each time. Finally, there was nothing more to be done."
The table sat in silence.
"Any more questions?" she asked coolly.
When he opened his mouth again, Orion cut him off. "Father, I really think she's –"
He waved his hand and his son quieted. "Do you know why you were invited here?" he asked Aurora.
"Grandfather!"
Aurora turned to Regulus and shook her head. She turned back to the older man.
"Yes, I know why you invited me here," she said levelly. "Blood as old as mine knows when it is being courted."
"And that would be Townsend blood?" the old man asked.
Aurora's tone chilled. "Obviously."
"There have been a few concerns raised this visit," he continued, "that you may not be a Townsend. Not a true one, anyway."
"On that count, you are very wrong," she said sharply. "While I can understand while someone might pretend to share my family history, I assure you, I am no such imposter."
The table was silent still, staring at her with curious eyes.
"As our gracious hosts may have told you," she said, addressing everyone now, "I prefer simplicity. I don't like name-calling and politics. And I find interrogations…..distasteful." She sneered at the word. "But I will gladly answer every question until I have proven who I am." She looked down the table at the many pale faces. "Are there no others? Please, ask anything you want – just don't expect me to leave here any more sympathetic to your cause than when I arrived."
She stood up and pushed in her chair.
"No matter what you believe, I am Aurora Townsend. My ancestors created the Unforgivable Curses. My legacy is sound – and it does not require the approval of anyone else."
And there it was. The Townsend legacy. The greatness of her name had been derived from an evil so notorious it guaranteed a life sentence in prison just for using it.
And these people wanted her for it. She had felt the group inhale when she said it.
Power answers to power. It was a lesson her grandfather had taught her – one that Godric had never been able to refute.
She left the dining room with the Blacks staring after her.
