On Friday afternoon, Aurora and her friends all headed down to the edge of the forest for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson, which was just as dull as always, feeding lettuce to flobberworms. Draco, as usual, was taking great delight in mocking Potter, who didn't seem at all interested and instead, kept throwing Aurora curious, almost nervous glances. This recent change was in many ways worse than any expressions of hatred or trading insults across a classroom or hallway, because at least then she knew where she stood. This was strange and confusing, and she still didn't know what had spurred Potter to apologise to her, or what he was expecting from her in return — because, surely, she thought, he was up to something. Whenever he looked at her, she would look defiantly back, daring him to say something. He didn't, of course, whether good or bad. This new attitude of his felt like it had tipped the world upside down and Aurora had no idea what to do with it.

She tried to distract herself through the lesson, and kept up a steady stream of gossip between herself and Pansy. Apparently Jasmine Kerrick had been caught in a broom cupboard with Louisa Barrow's boyfriend and it was causing quite the scandal amongst the upper years — it explained the weird tension Aurora had noticed between the girls in the common room, anyway.

It was as they were just about to leave class that Aurora noticed the great black dog standing just in the tree line, watching her. Her eyes widened and she glanced around nervously to see if anyone else had noticed the dog, but it didn't seem that they had. Silently, she glanced back and nodded slowly before helping pack up. "I'm going to hang back for a little while," she told Draco, who frowned at her. "I need a run, I'm so out of shape after the holidays and if Flint's going to let me play again next weekend, I have to get my stamina back up. I won't be long, don't worry."

"Alright," Draco said, not seeming convinced. "We'll see you at dinner then?"

She grinned in response and nodded. Theodore shot her a concerned look, but she waved him off. "I really am fine," she assured him as he passed, "I just need to clear my head and have a bit of exercise."

He still looked concerned, but Theodore typically had that sort of look about him, so Aurora headed off, going for a short walk in circles nearby until the rest of the class and Hagrid were all out of sight, back up to the castle. It was then and only then, when she was sure no one could see her, that she slipped into the forest where the black dog was waiting. Her father.

"Hello again," she said stiffly, walking alongside him towards a secluded spot, far from the eyes of the castle or Amy of the other forest creatures. This time of winter, it was already growing dark — she wouldn't have very much time, but at least the lack of light helped cover her. "How was your Christmas?" He made a barking noise that sounded like a laugh. "That good, huh?" She paused, listening to the silent forest around her. "I got your present."

If dogs could smile, that was what he was doing right now. "I know I was a bit harsh to you. I was shocked, and scared and confused, and honestly I just didn't believe you. But I got near those Dementors again and I heard..." She didn't want to talk about it, but she let the implication hang in the air. "And I know Weasley's rat has been with him for far longer than any really rat should live. So... This does not make up for anything, you have to understand. You have to respect that I do not want my life shaken up simply because you have decided to come here on a fool's errand chasing a rat. It does not change the last twelve years. You cannot replace my family, and I won't stand for you blindly insulting them or disrespecting the people who raised me when you failed to." Her grandmother's portrait's words rang in her head. It isn't real, she reminded herself. It just hurt.

"But... I know you do not intend me harm, I think. I don't believe you, not fully, you will have to give me more proof at some point. But I'm not going to hex you."

A second after she said that, there was a flash of light and her father reappeared before her in his human form. Aurora blinked, then broke into a small laugh at the sight of his face scrubbed clean of dirt. "You took a bath!"

He grinned crookedly. "I thought I ought to take my daughter's advice. The lake is a lovely place for a midnight paddle and the mermaids are friendlier than you might think. Bit chilly though."

Aurora frowned at him, pursing her lips. Even the way he spoke was reckless, far too breezy and unworried. "We need to be careful. If anyone finds out about you, or that I've been in contact with you, it'll be trouble. And if I am asked, I will deny ever having anything to do with you. But." She sighed. "You told me Pettigrew was the killer and the traitor, not you. And now he's Ron Weasley's rat."

"It sounds ridiculous when you say it."

She scoffed. "I know it does. But I think I may know more of what happened now."

Her father took in a tentative breath. "I truly am sorry I didn't see you grow up, I'm sorry I left you. And I understand your anger. But, if it's at all possible, I'd like to get to know you now. If you'll let me."

She considered him a moment. "No one can think I'm communicating with you. I wouldn't be entirely opposed to seeing you again, if you are careful and not reckless, but... You may be my blood but I have no obligation to you. But I want an explanation. Of everything. Eventually. I won't be entirely opposed to seeing you, but I — I don't want a regular... Anything."

But somehow it still brought a smile to her father's face. "I suppose that's more than I could hope for. I knew you'd never betray me."

"How could I betray someone I've never had any loyalty towards?" she questioned, and the smile slipped. "But I — I won't hand you over. So long as you don't interfere with my life. No skulking around, no getting caught breaking into the castle."

"Got it." A strange half-smile came over his features. "Aurora, I just — I am sorry."

"Sorry doesn't change—"

"I'd rather not have you hate me," he said quickly, "so, alright."

"And you won't seek me out unless absolutely necessary," Aurora added, feeling that some kind of boundaries were needed. "But — this Peter Pettigrew, he is the reason my mother was killed, and the Death Eaters did... Whatever they did to me?" Her father nodded, eyes wide and imploring. "And he's the reason my family name is even further besmirched than it has already been." At least Bellatrix had been lumped in with the Lestranges, and never been an heir. At least Regulus was young and disappeared quietly. "So I suppose I can't deny you revenge, but... I don't want to be caught out in anything."

Her father nodded in agreement, a hard look on his face. "I told you in December that you could be in danger. You certainly could be, if ever the tides change again. But I want to finish what I started and kill Pettigrew."

Aurora nodded. "He cost you your best friends, your wife, and essentially your life when he faked his murder. I can see why you'd kill him."

Her father smiled thinly. "Can you really?"

"There are some people you can't forgive."

She wasn't a killer, she didn't think, but if she was in her father's position, what would she have done? Revenge made sense. But if he killed Pettigrew, he would be guilty. She would have no real grounds to argue against him being back in Azkaban. And she thought, perhaps — such a scandal might still hurt the family name. What would be better: revenge or justice? What would benefit her? She wasn't sure, thought perhaps she was too bothered by feelings at the moment and ought to consider the matter more when she wasn't confronted with the very man responsible for her turmoil.

She had no choice to voice any of these considerations, however, before her father asked, "Do you know the secret passages out of the school?"

She looked at him curiously. "I've never had reason to investigate, but I know there are a couple around the dungeons. I don't know if they leave the school."

"There are lots of passages. The one-eyed witch on the third floor, if you tap her and say dissendium, you'll come out in Honeydukes cellar. If you press the knot at the bottom of the Whomping Willow — I don't recommend trying, you might get injured — you come out at the Shrieking Shack. It's where I've been hiding out, when I'm not in the forest — I've got a friend, a very large ginger cat, whose owner is a student, he helps me sneak around. It isn't safe to be in the open. Just — if you ever need to find me, or if you want to."

"I can be sneaky," Aurora told him, which seemed to be exactly what her father wanted to hear. "So, is that passage that you mentioned the way that you got into the castle?" she asked, not wanting to broach the idea that he could choose not to kill Pettigrew. But did her father even have a long-term plan beyond murder? She doubted he had taken much time to consider it, in all honesty. "You really gave us a fright, you know. And Dumbledore."

"I wasn't going to hurt anyone," her father said, looking down. "I knew you'd all be at the feast, but I had to find the rat. It was Halloween..."

"Yes," Aurora muttered. "I know. Everyone whispered after me for weeks."

"He cost me everything."

"You never had to go after him," she said quietly. "But if something ever happened to Draco, I think I would have wanted to do the same."

"Draco?" Her father raised his eyebrows.

"Draco Malfoy. My best friend. Your cousin Narcissa's son."

"Narcissa's kid's your best friend?"

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth. She knew exactly why he had that looked in his eye and she didn't like it one bit.

He stared at her. "Really?"

"I didn't come here for you to make judgments about my choice in friends," she said stiffly. "Seeing as you weren't there when he was the only child my age that I was allowed to ever interact with."

His eyes softened, and he asked tentatively, "And Harry Potter?"

"He hates me. I think." She wasn't as certain of that, even though it made no sense for him not to hate her. She gave him a sharp look. "I didn't come here to talk about Potter, either."

"You two are godsiblings. But you know that." She nodded. "Does he?"

"He does," she said, but declined to tell her father about what had happened in Hogsmeade just after she'd left him. She didn't want to invite him to pass judgment, and she didn't want a conversation about her mother either. "Now, anyway. But it doesn't change anything. And that isn't why I'm here."

"Of course," her father said. "But you... You wouldn't help me, would you?"

"With what?" she asked, although the answer was obvious.

"Trying to get into the school is difficult for me. But you..."

"You want me to do it?" Thinking about that out loud made her stomach lurch.

"No, no," he said quickly. "There's no... I don't want you to kill the rat. But if you could just, I suppose, capture it."

That was a little too complicit for her, and the gravity of the situation seemed to catch up with Aurora. "So you can murder him?"

"You were fine with the idea five minutes ago."

"Before I was directly involved! I can't — I can't just—"

"Forget it," her father said. "I shouldn't have asked you. You're only fourteen."

"And what does that have to do with it?" she snapped. "Do you think I'm not up to it? I could be."

"What have you done, at fourteen?"

"That is none of your business." She didn't think he'd appreciate the words: well, I did get away with non-fatally poisoning Potter once.

There was a shifting in the trees and Aurora's heart leapt into her throat as she ducked behind a tree, breathing heavily. But it wasn't a person that emerged; it was one of the thestrals which pulled the school carriages. She breathed a sigh of relief, moving to stand by her father again, but her eyes were fixed on the horse.

Her father caught on the direction of her gaze. "You see them too?"

She nodded. "The thestrals? Hagrid told me about them — Professor Hagrid. Only recently, but I should have known what they were."

There was a sad downturn to her father's face when he caught her eye. "They only reveal themselves to those of us who have witnessed Death."

"I know that," she said, voice more brittle than she had intended. "They have something of him around them."

Her father turned silvery eyes on her. "You can see our old pal too, then?"

She blinked, startled. Her mind raced; she'd barely even realised what she was saying but — "You can see him?"

"On occasion. Family curse, I believe, though my father thought it was something of a blessing. It's more common on his side of the family. I wasn't sure if you'd get it passed on. I used to always catch a glimpse in battle. Distracting, the first couple of times, but it still came in handy. He never spoke to me or anything though, not like in the stories. I always thought it was just some passed down nonsense, superstition I was making myself believe in. My brother said he could see souls."

"Souls?"

"Oh, yeah. He was dead interested in all that Dark stuff." A shadow crossed his face and Aurora knew why. From what she'd hard, 'all that Dark stuff' had cost Regulus Black his life in the war. "But my brother is a story for another time."

"Is he?" Aurora asked, frowning. That was another story which she had never gotten to know in its entirety — though there was a large part of her which didn't want to know. "Grandmother said..." She found she didn't want didn't want to repeat the words aloud, but she ran them over in her head. Foolish boy, could have been something, gave himself over to a false lord. Broke his poor parents' hearts trying to get out.

"It doesn't matter what my mother said, Aurora," he said, voice low. "None of them know the truth."

That caused her to frown. "Then what is the truth? Only no one ever seems inclined to tell me — about anything."

He was quiet for a long moment. "Regulus was only young. Barely eighteen. He was an idiot and he was wrong, completely wrong. But he'd been messed up by our parents just like I had, and if things had worked out different, who knows... He just went the other way. But he made his choice, when he was old enough. I made mine, and we grew up in the same family after all. It was a choice."

Her heart seemed to stick in her chest. "I don't... Grandmother never spoke about it very much. Arcturus didn't like discussing the war."

A dark laugh escaped her father. "I doubt it. Had their side won, no doubt they would have claimed to support Voldemort all along." A shock and shiver went straight through Aurora at the name. It raised the hairs on the back of her neck. "They were all so proud when Regulus got into Slytherin, and then when he joined up. I was out by then."

Something bitter curled in Aurora's chest. "I know."

"My mother always said we were Blacks first and foremost. Above everyone. I don't know what she taught you, Aurora."

She shook her head. "She died when I was five, remember? Arcturus was... Not necessarily approving of Muggles, but he didn't outright hate them. I think, from everything, he knew that such views couldn't hold, and that we had to move with the mood of things. And he knew I wasn't pure of blood, after all. He said I was brilliant anyway. Because I'm a Black, and I'm me."

Her father nodded slowly. "None of the family strictly speaking opposed Voldemort — though the same could be said of most families — but from what I remember Arcturus was always a bit less extreme about blood status than my parents. Though not being absolutely fanatical about blood is a very low standard to meet, and I wouldn't imagine he was liberal by any means. Then again, my parents were both fanatics. All that pure blood had driven them mad."

Something surged through Aurora as she said, "Stop speaking like that. They're... My family."

He looked like he was biting back a curse or a snarl as he said, "It was their fanaticism that drove Regulus to do what he did. To join up, in the first place. And it was that fanaticism that drove them to hate me."

"You... They said... You left."

"Before that." His eyes were clouded by something she didn't understand. It made her stomach swirl uncomfortably. "I was sorted into Gryffindor. I didn't agree with what my parents had taught me, and I wanted it — I wanted to rebel. They were furious. It... I don't want to go into all the details with you, Aurora. But they turned their backs on me long before I left. They — they were not kind parents."

Her words got stuck. "In what way? What do you mean?"

"They—" His eyes darted around the clearing. "They would hurt me."

Cold washed over her, like a rain cloud had broken atop her head and the water ran all the way down her body.

"Hurt you?"

"Yes." He held her gaze. "I was the rebellious son, I always was. They didn't like that. They didn't like me. When I was fifteen, they wanted me to go to some dinner. Set me up with a nice pureblood girl who could set me straight — families do that at that age, at least the older ones." Aurora knew that. The thought of giving up her family name for a husband made her skin itch. "I said I didn't want any pureblood and I especially didn't want one that fit their values, considering they were cousins. My mother yelled the house down. Called me all kinds of things, nothing I hadn't heard before. She told me to accept I was a Black, a pureblood, to follow in my cousin's footsteps. I refused." His eyes flicked away from hers. "So she tortured me."

Aurora felt sick. She didn't want to hear this — any of this. "What do you mean? She — my grandmother wouldn't torture—"

"She did." His eyes glinted. "Cruciatus and all. So I ran. Went to the Potters. I wanted Regulus to come with me but he stayed. They had taken a hold of him just as they pushed me away."

Her grandmother wouldn't torture someone, Aurora told herself. Least of all her own son. But Aurora remembered the things she had said about him, in her life and in her portrait form, screaming about blood traitors and filth and scum and mudblood, defiling the family name, the son she never loved.

She didn't want to believe it. That was her family, and she didn't want anything to tarnish the few memories that she hadz She didn't want to outright say that she didn't believe him either, because her father looked like he would snap at anything.

"Regulus made his choice," her father continued, "time and time again. He disappeared just a few months after you were born. But before that, he found us."

Her stomach dropped. "He what?"

"I had told him, when you were born. Just a note. I said it was a girl and we had named you Aurora. I'm not honestly sure how he managed to find us, but he did — we had to move on a few days later, just to be on the safer side. He said he was getting out. I told him to be careful, that if he needed out, then I knew people who could help, but he was adamant that he did it alone. But he wanted to see you.

"He said that the House of Black could have a better future, and he wasn't going to be having any heirs. I didn't want you to have anything to do with them, but I suppose it wasn't up to me, was it, in the end?" A bitter smile. "He made sure that your magic could be recognised by the family.

"Then he disappeared. Two weeks later, our parents announced his death, quietly. They never found a body — but that was often the case."

The words made Aurora feel sick. "I'm sorry," she said, but her father shook his head.

"Who knows where he is now. Alive or dead. But I know he got out, one way or another, in the end."

He shook himself slightly, like shaking off the chill of a ghost's hands from his shoulders.

"I'll tell you if I see the rat," Aurora said quietly, to try and avoid dealing with the implications of what had been said, the cold feeling which hung between them. Her father was shaking from what he'd said and she didn't know what to do, what to say. She didn't believe it. "But — I don't want to be the one to..." Even though she was confident there was no one around them to hear, she lowered her voice as she said, "kill someone."

"And I wouldn't ask you to," her father said. There was still a tremble in his voice. He was scared. He shouldn't be the one who was scared. "You don't have to do this. I just wanted to see you." He looked like he was going to make a move towards her, but then stopped himself. "I couldn't come here and not speak to you."

Aurora didn't let herself smile. She didn't want to want to smile. "So will you go on the run again? After you kill him?" She bit her lip. "I don't know if you know, but they're talking about giving you the kiss."

His face paled. "I've hidden for this long."

"Yeah, but..." Aurora looked away. "There's still the risk." She smiled tightly. "Do you even know what you're going to do? The whole world thinks you're guilty. The whole world judges me for that. You're going to prove them right. Everywhere I go, people talk about me, for all the wrong reasons, and I hate it.

"I have to kill him," her father said, eyes glinting. "You understand that, don't you?"

Aurora didn't know what to say. She wanted to tell him that he had been reckless and foolish in doing all this so far. She understood why he wanted to kill him. But his actions made her uneasy.

"I should get back to the castle," she said quietly at last, with a small nod. "It is almost time for dinner. But I can try and sneak you some food if you want?"

Her father's face split into a grin. "Knew I found you for a reason, Rory."

"Don't call me Rory," she muttered, swerving away. "You named me Aurora." She took in a sharp breath. "Actually — I wanted to know something. What's my middle name?"

The look in her father's eyes was one of loss, like he thought it was the worst fate in the world that she didn't know. Aurora wondered how she would tell him that she had had to ask Professor Lupin to tell her what her mother's name was. She wasn't sure that she could, or should.

"Euphemia," he said eventually, the name like a sigh.

She didn't know the name from the family tree. Perhaps it was one her mother's side. "After whom?"

"Euphemia Potter." That was one she hadn't expected. What little warmth she had still held slipped away. "She took me in when I thought I had nowhere to go. She was ill, at the time you were born. It only felt right. She looked after all of us from Hogwarts — she loved Marlene, too."

Hearing the name Marlene made Aurora feel such a sudden tumble of confused thoughts that she couldn't speak. "I see. Thank you for telling me." Her voice was empty, cold. Her father's eyes widened from sorrow. "You should turn back now."

He swallowed and looked down at Aurora, who didn't quite understand the look in his eyes. "They both loved you so, so very much."

He had to say that. She tried to appreciate the gesture.

"Come on," her father said eventually. "Like you said, you ought to get back to school. Just — tell me one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Were you happy, growing up?"

She nodded, though she couldn't meet his eyes. The answer she had likely wasn't the one he wanted to hear, but it was the truth, and it was a truth he had to live with.

"Yes," she told him. "Yes, I was."

There was a heaviness to the half-hearted smile. For a moment, Aurora thought he was going to snap, that he'd be upset at the thought of her having been happy in a life where her own father had not raised her.

But then he took in a deep breath and said in a resigned sort of tone, with closed eyes, "Okay."

He turned back into a dog and Aurora stifled a laugh as he led her back out the forest, where the sky was already darkening.

She left him silently, but with a small wave, and remembered what he'd said about a secret passage and the cat who was apparently his ally. She could see him again, could speak to him. It wasn't something she could truly even remember thinking of. Aurora didn't really know how to feel about it, if she even wanted to contemplate the possibility of such a thing.

Just because he didn't mean her any harm didn't mean that she could simply reconcile, even if he seemed to want that. It had been too long, and enough time had passed that she knew she didn't even know him, spare for vague half-formed memories and words called across chaos. Such a thing would be unthinkable to any of her family, too — he was still a traitor, wasn't he? But now she wasn't entirely certain that she knew what that was supposed to mean, what she was supposed to feel about it. He was no Andromeda, she didn't trust him like she trusted Andromeda — but could she dare to know him? She wasn't even certain that she wanted to. It felt too complicated, a matter impossible to wrap up and understand and come to any correct conclusion about.

She kept quiet throughout dinner, feeling the weight of that conversation and everything that it had unearthed heavy upon her shoulders. None of this, it seemed, could just be simple. If she could, she would ignore it all, but that felt impossible to do now too.

So she waited, quietly, and considered Ron Weasley across the hall. At least, she thought, she could keep an eye out for the rat.