Aurora knew that they made rather an odd group, making their way quietly and cautiously through the tunnel between the Shrieking Shack and the Whomping Willow. Being in such a space with Potter, Weasley and Granger of all people, was rather surreal, especially as they were, for now, not at each other's throats. Granger's cat — Crookshanks, was it? — led the way, Lupin just behind it, then Weasley, Granger and Pettigrew. She was just behind them, side by side with her father, who had Potter on his other side. The rest of them, barring Pettigrew, muttered amongst themselves, but they three stayed in a strange, uncertain silence. Potter kept glancing at Aurora and her father every so often, as though he wanted to say something but did not have any idea of how to go about it, or even what it was, precisely, that he wanted to get across. Aurora wasn't sure that she wanted to know what he was thinking anyway. It was probably something awful about her.
"Listen," her father whispered, sidling closer to her as Potter walked nearer to Granger, Weasley and Pettigrew, falling into step with them. "I know this wasn't the way we expected this to turn out. But I have to talk to Harry."
Aurora pursed her lips. "Of course."
"I know you two don't get on. I'll understand if you — you're apprehensive, or you don't want to see him. I'll admit I'd rather you were friends but I I know that isn't up to me. But I want to know him. If nothing else, I owe it to James and Lily to get to know Harry. To tell him about his parents, to protect him—"
"You should have done that thirteen years ago," she said, but instantly regretted it. "Sorry, I — I know. It's fine."
"Aurora, you're my priority. You're my daughter. I don't want to upset you, or make you uncomfortable—"
"But you need to know him," she said, swallowing the bitter feeling that welled inside of her. Of course he would want to know Potter. Who wouldn't? Wonderful, brilliant, scarhead Potter, saviour of the wizarding world. Even if she didn't want to admit to caring for her father, there was a sour feeling of jealousy inside of her at the thought of him knowing Potter, of treating him as godson. He was her father, she had done so much for him, she had gone thirteen years not knowing the truth — and if she was going to share her father with anyone, Harry Potter would be at the bottom of her list. "I understand," she told him, because she did — of course he felt an obligation, probably moreso because he had spent the last twelve years in prison having nothing to do with his godson — but she didn't want to.
"They made me guardian," her father explained, as if she didn't know all of this already. "I need to ask—"
"Do what you will," she said, trying to keep the coldness out of her voice. "It's your life."
"It's yours too," he told her gently. "Whatever I do, I don't only have an obligation to him and his parents. I have an obligation to my daughter, too. If there is anything—"
"Just talk to him," she snapped, feeling a prickle of unease. Even now, she didn't want to discuss how she felt. If her father wanted Potter to know him, to even live with him, then fine. She hadn't said that she would and if she were honest, she wasn't sure if she did. She could hardly just abandon the Tonkses after all that they had done for her, and her feelings about her father were complicated enough. Reality, however, was catching up to them both, carving out their future. She just didn't want it to — because the future was terrifyingly uncertain, and no choice would be without consequence, whether personal or political.
"You both can do what you want," she told her father quietly. "Who knows what will happen?"
"Aurora, you know you're the most—"
"I don't care, just talk to him about this instead of me."
Her father looked slightly taken aback, hurt flashing over his features for a second before it disappeared. "Alright," he said in a low voice, turning and quickening his pace. "Harry?"
Aurora focused very hard on the passage's dirt walls, feeling suddenly cold, as she picked up her pace and her father and Potter fell into step behind her, now pulling up the rear of the group. She wished, as she saw Crookshanks' bottle brush tail sweep through the air, that she had her own cat, Stella, with her, to bundle up into her arms and purr warmly. But reality was not so kind.
"You do know what this means, don't you?" her father was asking Potters from behind her. They had separated from the others, walking tensely alongside one another. "Turning Pettigrew in?"
His voice was guarded, cautious, as he replied, "It means you'll be free."
"Well..." She could hear the nerves in his voice even if Potter couldn't, and she wasn't sure she would like what he was about to ask. But she had told him to talk to him, after all. It wasn't like she even knew what she wanted. "Your parents appointed me as your guardian." Aurora curled her fist tighter around her wand. "Should anything happen to them..."
Potter was quiet for a moment — a miracle in itself. Her father went on, "I'll understand, of course, if you're not interested in seeing me. But I'd — I owe it to James and Lily, now I have the chance, to be involved in your life. If you want me to. I know you and my Aurora—" she pressed her lips together in annoyance "—don't get along brilliantly, from what she's told me." She could practically feel Potter's scowl. "But. Well — just think about it. We always said you two ought to be raised best friends. I'm not saying — I know that may never happen and I'm sure she's listening to every word and scowling right now." She rolled her eyes. "If you ever wanted... I owe it to James and Lily to be something to you, if I can."
"Well," Potter said, voice somewhat dejected. "My aunt and uncle wouldn't like it."
"Your mother's sister? Petunia?" She could tell her father struggled to keep his voice neutral.
"Yeah. I mean, I don't really care what they think. I'd like to — to get to know you. If that's alright."
Aurora withheld a sigh. She knew she oughtn't to begrudge either of them the opportunity to know one another, and knew it was important to her father, but the idea of Potter getting to know him too bothered her. It was selfish of her, but she had only just gotten to know him again, was only barely starting to know him.
"Well," he was saying, voice measured, "I don't really know for certain, where I'm going to end up. Where we are. But like I said, I'm your guardian. Your parents wanted you to live with me, should anything happen. And it... The offer stands. Unless you want to stay with your aunt and uncle, which I'd understand, and you can take your time thinking on it, I know Aurora isn't certain—"
"What—" Potter's voice trembled slightly in excitement as he interrupted "—you mean I could live with you? Leave the Dursleys?"
"Of course," her father said quietly, "I thought you wouldn't want to. I understand, Harry, I just thought I ought to—"
"Are you mad?" Potter's voice croaked. "Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I—"
Aurora turned around sharply and the question died on his lips. There was something almost guilty in his expression when he caught her eye. Sighing, she said, "Of course he has a house, Potter, don't be dim."
Indignant, he started, "He's been on the run, it's a valid—"
"You want to?" Aurora's father asked him, voice thick, and she stifled a groan. "You mean it?"
"Yeah, I mean it!" Potter cried.
Aurora's father turned to her. "Aurora, you... Would you consider it? Harry, living with us?"
She scoffed. "I haven't even said I'll live with you yet." Something sheepish flickered across his eyes.
"I know, you don't have to decide—"
"And might I remind you," she said icily, "that any house you may or may not have is in the care of the Black estate and the head of the family." Potter looked deeply uncomfortable. But so did her father. She softened her voice, just a little. "I'm not going to deny you a home, am I?" she said shortly, rolling her eyes. "Preferably not Grimmauld or the Manor, though, I'm rather more attached to those two." She eyed Potter with measured distaste. "But as for my presence in it... I don't know." Aurora did offer her father a small smile as respite. "Though I'm sure you will be welcome with the Tonkses, once everyone knows the truth."
Her father broke into a smile at that, and stepped forward to clap her on the shoulder. "You know," he said quietly, so that only she could hear, "you come first. You always do. But I had to ask, you understand. For James and Lily."
She tutted. "I know, Father." She glanced over his shoulder and found Potter looking somewhat sheepish. Aurora just sighed. "I'm sure we can take this conversation further at another time. For now... Priorities."
Her father blinked, but then straightened up. They had fallen a little ways behind the rest of the group. "Right." He cleared his throat, glanced back at Harry. "Priorities."
They went the rest of the way in a stifling silence. It made Aurora's skin itch.
When they got to the end of the tunnel, she turned to her father, as did Lupin. "You should probably transform," she told him, "just in case someone decides to do something rash, if we come across them in the castle."
Lupin nodded. "She's right. It shouldn't be long. But — I will transform quite soon, I think. Don't be alarmed, I promise, I'll be tame — but, Sirius."
Her father strode forwards to clap his friend on the shoulder. "Almost like old times, eh?"
Aurora caught sight of Lupin's wan smile. "Almost."
There was a small flash of light as her father transformed back into a dog, something which seemed to startle Weasley, and brought a curious look to Granger's face. "There's no need to gawk," Aurora told them irritably. "Come on."
Her father darted up into the grounds first, then Lupin, who helped them to haul Pettigrew up. "One wrong move," Lupin cautioned him, wand pointed sideways.
Their little group went on through the grounds, but then the clouds began to part above them, letting the moonlight spill over. Professor Lupin went rigid, and Granger and Weasley near enough crashed into his back.
Aurora's father darted forward, coming to Lupin's side.
"The moonlight," Aurora said, glancing at Potter. Pettigrew had a nervous look about him, trying to avert his gaze, shuddering.
"The potion—"
"Just because he's tame doesn't mean he can't hurt you if you get too close. He likely won't, but better to be safe than sorry."
Aurora dragged Granger back to stand with her, wand trained still on Pettigrew. Their professor started to tremble, head tilted up towards the sky. "We have to get him to the castle," Potter said, taking a tighter hold of Pettigrew.
She nodded, reaching to take Pettigrew's other side, hardly daring to look as Professor Lupin started to change. His limbs stretched, face lengthening into a snout, hair sprouting from all over him. "Let's move," she said, and Granger tried to move them along, but Weasley let out a low groan, falling sideways onto his bad leg.
"We have to go," Aurora insisted, as Granger tried to drag Weasley along. Her wand shook in her hand, and Pettigrew smiled a sickening smile. "Don't look at me," she snarled at him, hearing the low growl behind them. It was a growl of pain and she looked worriedly over her shoulder, seeing her father whimpering lowly to the... Thing, halfway between man and wolf, and keening in pain. It yanked on her heart, but her father turned and despite his form, she could see the pleading look in his eyes.
"We'll be in Dumbledore's office," she said. "Hide until we find you."
She shoved Pettigrew onwards and Potter took his other side, the two of them working together for once. They got only a few steps further when the doors of the castle opened and amber light spilled out over the grounds, someone lit up in silhouette.
Pettigrew gave a small shriek. Aurora swore. "Come on," she said, but then the wolf let out a high howl and the dark, bat-like figure from the castle came running towards them.
Aurora knew who he was once he came into the light, and nerves gripped her. She picked up the pace, Potter keeping with her, but Weasley was swaying. Still, she couldn't let him hold her back — Granger was helping him and they needed to get to the castle, find someone reasonable like Dumbledore, explain everything—
"Black!" Snape's voice cracked through the grounds. "I have just had Mr Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, and Miss Tearston, in my office raving about—"
"Professor, before you start, look at—"
Professor Snape stopped dead, eyes fixing on Pettigrew. Potter was holding his breath, knuckles white around Pettigrew's arm. "But that's..." His face was pure white, stark against the dark of the night and his hair. "Who is this man?"
"Peter Pettigrew," Potter said bluntly. Aurora winced. "We need to see Dumbledore."
"That is not possible. Black, Potter, I don't know what the two of you think you're doing sneaking about the grounds with your little friends but — get back!"
Aurora turned sharply, seeing the source of the commotion, realising the wolf was fully transformed now — and beside it, the growling black dog form of her father, hatred blazing in startlingly silver eyes. For a moment the whole group seemed frozen in time. Even Pettigrew was silent, rigid. Then Snape raised his wand, a curse on his lips, and Aurora dived into its way, her own wand drawn against him.
"Don't!"
"Black," Snape said, voice low and menacing, eyes flicking between the wolf, the dog, Pettigrew and Potter and Weasley and Granger. "Get out of my way."
"He's taken his potion." Snape's eyes flicked back to Pettigrew, uncertain.
"What exactly is the meaning of this? Whose is the dog?"
No one spoke. Pettigrew coughed.
"I — we can explain, Professor, but you have to take us up to the castle. We have to take him."
"I don't know what trickery is at play, here, Black. You are walking these grounds with a dead man."
"I dunno, he looks pretty alive to me—"
"Silence, Potter! Black — Miss Black — get over here, now." She did not move.
"This is Peter Pettigrew," she repeated. "My father is innocent."
Snape sneered, "Your father is a killer, Black. He is a traitor, and you either a fool, or more contemptible than I had ever imagined. You would do well to heed—"
There was a low growl from the dog and wolf, and Snape startled. "We must go. All of you, and whoever that is — with me, before you get yourselves killed. And leave the dog—"
"It's him!" Pettigrew's voice cut shrilly towards Snape, who blanched. "It's Sirius Black!"
Snape turned so sharply it was almost comical, the way his robes flared and rippled around him. "Where? Where — and who are—"
"The dog," Pettigrew wailed, and made a great show of falling to his knees, dragging Aurora and Potter with him before they could stop him. "He's an Animagus. Severus — Severus, I am sorry for all that has happened, but he has tricked these children! He has deceived them! Have mercy—"
Snape raised his wand, moving it sharply between Pettigrew and the dog. The wolf gave a low growl when he fixed on Aurora's father, a sound that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. "I'll explain everything!" Pettigrew cried.
"He's a liar!" Potter burst out, as he and Aurora both struggled to their feet. "He's a rat!"
Snape's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. "I did not ask to deal with this," he muttered, before turning his wand to Pettigrew. "To the castle, now. Enough with your lies — rest assured, Black, if I find that you have in any way assisted your father—"
"He is innocent, and we—"
"Pettigrew did it! And he is a rat!" Snape swung around to face Weasley, who was being tugged to his feet by Granger. "He's my rat. Scabbers. But he's not. Bit of a rubbish rat anyway—" Pettigrew made a small squeal of offense "—but he killed all those people! Not Black! Sirius Black, I mean—"
"Sirius Black's innocent, Professor," Granger said, her voice pleading. "He is the dog, but he's explained everything and—"
Snape turned to face her father, wand pointed at him. Unwavering.
Potter lunged forward before she could stop him, breaking his hold on Pettigrew, who lurched to the side. "Stop!" she cried, slamming into Pettigrew with all the force she could muster to pull him back. "Petrificus—"
He shoved her roughly away and the wolf lunged. Pettigrew screamed and Aurora stumbled backwards — but the wolf didn't seem to be hurting him, only holding him down. Still, having a full grown werewolf — even a tame one — on top of one probably wasn't comfortable. "Stupefy!" Potter cried, and a jet of red light hit their professor square in the chest, propelling him backwards in an arc through the air.
Weasley mumbled something and then slumped to the ground. Useless, Aurora thought furiously. Snape, now some feet away, struggled to his feet, and waved his wand in the air once, calling something that Aurora could not hear over the growing cold wind. Wisps of deep smoke trailed from the end of his wand, turning into a cold mist that wafted over the treetops.
Then, he lunged forward again, his wand trained on Aurora. Fear dropped into the pit of her stomach as she took in the chaos; Granger was trying to rouse Weasley to his feet, Potter was struggling to grab Pettigrew while the wolf retreated into shadow, and her father was running forward to, barking loudly at Snape as he drew closer to her.
"Black," he growled. "What have you done?"
"Ask Pettigrew!" she snapped, anger flaring as the professor pushed her father aside and she aimed her wand at the Potions professor, shaking. "He was the traitor, he was the one who gave up my parents' location, who gave up the Potters — he was the Secret Keeper, not my father — he killed all those people. You've got it wrong, everyone's got it wrong, and if you'll only let me—"
He didn't speak, but Aurora felt the spell hit her as her wand went flying out of her hand, and she was stopped in her tracks. Then, Snape turned upon the form of her father, sneering, and aimed his wand. "Good thing dear Professor McGonagall taught me," he said, staring down at the dog, and Aurora felt her heart wrench. They couldn't do this, couldn't let Snape know, of all people. "Animalis novis," Snape said lowly, though his voice carried on the wind. Then, there was a flash of bright white light and her father appeared, startled from his form, but glaring at Snape with fury in his eyes.
No, she thought, fear biting at her. No, no, absolutely not.
"So it's true," Snape said, voice cold. "The old traitor returns. Getting children to do your dirty work now, Black?"
"What did you use against my daughter?"
Snape sneered, as Aurora pulled at her bonds, sending Potter a sharp look in a furious plea for help. "Only necessary force. Something you do not understand." He presses forward, jabbing his wand into her father's throat, and Aurora resisted the urge to scream, knowing that attracting any more attention would only make things worse.
"You cannot—"
"Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!"
"Don't!" Granger cried out. "Professor Snape, please, Sirius is innocent! Just look! Look at Pettigrew!"
"That is not Peter Pettigrew. It cannot be. This man is a murderer, Miss Granger!"
But his eyes darted to Peter, who was squirming in fright. The wolf had his arms pinned down again and was snarling, as Potter crept closer to Aurora. "You three. Go. I will deal with this. The Dementors have already been called. I'm sure they will be very excited when they get here."
His voice was low and dangerous.
"You can't bring Dementors!" Granger cried. "Send them back!"
Potter brought his wand out and pointed it at Aurora's bonds. She glared at him, whispered, "Finite incantatem should do it."
"You can't hurt Sirius! He hasn't done anything wrong!"
"Do not meddle in things you do not understand, Granger—"
"Finite incantatem," Potter whispered, and with a warm feeling, the ropes slipped away from Aurora.
"If you know what is good for you — you have been reckless, foolish, broken multiple school rules and possibly some laws—"
"I'm," her father croaked out, lunging towards Snape, "innocent, Snape, it was — Peter — Peter told him — but you — wouldn't you?"
Clearly Snape made more sense of that than any of them did, for he drove closer to her father, curse about to slip off his tongue in the time it took Aurora to lung and snatch up her wand from where it lay a few feet away, and then to raise it — Potter got to it at the same time as she did. "Stupefy!" they both cried, and their Potions professor went soaring through the air, landing in a heap a few metres away. He didn't stir.
"Harry! Black!" Granger fretted, Weasley lurching in surprise. "You attacked a teacher!"
"Oh, as if none of you have done that before," Aurora snapped, running over to help her father to his feet. But, although she would never dare tell Potter this, she thought it was a brilliant hex, and she was grateful for it. "Are you alright?"
Her father nodded, but hatred glinted in his eyes when he looked at Snape. "Never liked me, that one. Might as well leave him."
Granger made a high tutting sound. Aurora glanced over to her, seeing that Potter was hauling Pettigrew up and the wolf standing by, gleaming yellow eyes flickering between him and Snape. At least Snape was decent at making Wolfsbane Potion, Aurora had to give him that.
"I hate him," Aurora ground out, helping her father move.
"Like father like daughter," Sirius said grimly.
"Let's go. We've wasted enough time, and I don't want to run the risk of the Dementors getting to us."
"We can't leave him," Granger said shrilly.
"If you're volunteering to carry him," Aurora replied, "then be my guest. That one's my priority." She jerked her head to Pettigrew, who gave a pathetic sort of whimper, mumbling about traitors and what a good rat he had apparently been. Granger looked torn, but Potter had already started dragging Pettigrew over to Aurora and Sirius, while Granger helped Weasley hobbled along. Aurora met the eyes of the wolf, which nodded slightly to her father and then turned, running away.
She let Potter catch up to them before they made their way slowly up the hill.
"I didn't mean to," Pettigrew was babbling, and Aurora tightened her grip on her father's arm. "They would kill me, Sirius! You've no idea—"
"I think I have a perfect idea," he snarled in retaliation. "Don't think I don't know what Voldemort was capable of. You made your choice."
"Sirius, you can't — you can't take me to the Dementors, they'll — we can run, shouldn't we both—"
"Because you'd know all about running," Sirius snapped. "Running out of trouble. You never got caught as often as James and I did, we didn't mind taking the fall for you, back in school." Aurora tugged her father to make him pick the pace up, but Granger and Weasley were also lagging behind, the former sending nervy glances over to the stunned Snape. She knew it was a bit, well, reckless to leave him out here with a werewolf — albeit a perfectly tame one — but he would do the same to her father easily. And they would get to someone soon, would explain things. They had to get to the castle.
"You were my friends!" Pettigrew pleaded again.
"Can't you do a Silencing Charm yet, Granger?" Aurora asked, with a great sigh. The other girl scowled.
"Can't you, Black?"
She smirked. "Frankly, I don't want to waste my energy on someone as pathetic as him." And also, no, she couldn't, but Hermione Granger did not need to hear that. Nor did anyone else.
Granger looked doubtful, but Pettigrew at least shut up for a moment, long enough that they got up the hill, that the great double doors were in sight.
And then, a chill came through the air, prickling the back of Aurora's neck. Something cold dropped into her stomach, and a small, sharp pain started up, concentrated in the centre of her ribs. She felt her father stiffen, heard a faint scream drawn towards them on the wind.
Shadows appeared over the treetops. Weasley, who had already lasted much longer than Aurora had anticipated, buckled slightly as he grasped Granger.
There were hundreds of them moving through the dusk-filled sky. Aurora tried to press onwards, desperate to get away, to avoid the memory she knew was about to press upon her, but her father seemed immobilised by fear. He was trembling, face paler than she'd ever seen it.
"We have to go," she pleaded, putting her wand away and reaching out to Pettigrew to help Potter drag him along. They went as fast as they could, but the Dementors were faster, spurred on by the promise of a good meal. Snape had called them, she realised, with a sick lurch, wishing she could pause to curse the bastard to hell and back.
"Aurora," a voice said, a whisper in her ear. "Don't cry."
The pain in her chest grew as she tried to pull the group onwards, keeping her father moving even though he was shaking like a leaf, but the Dementors pressed in, blocking their path to the school, and terror clogged her throat.
"Blood of a blood traitor... wonder how deep the dirt goes..."
She whirled around, but Weasley's leg had finally given out and Granger stumbled to catch him. Potter lurched after them, leaving Pettigrew to topple onto Aurora, who could already feel the weight of memory pressing on her chest.
Him — he had caused this.
"Precious little thing, isn't she, cousin dear?"
"Let my daughter go—"
Wailing filled the air. Aurora could barely breathe, could barely see for the darkness that was starting to press in. "Expecto..." Her hands were both full, and she couldn't let either of them go. Her chest filled with terror, sure as drowning.
"Father. Father, I'm going to have let you go—"
He moved of his own accord, but he didn't merely run. Out there in the open he turned into a dog and Aurora had hardly time to register that because she was lifting her wand and so was Potter, and she was trying so hard to think of something happy, anything happy at all — that her father would be free, that she could restore the family glory, that her friends were waiting for her. "Expecto patronum!" she cried, putting every feeling she could into it. Her head rang, as a shield threaded itself together before her, as the same happened for Potter.
But the darkness was too much. And this was her weak hand, her left hand, and she felt even her other hand slipping, as someone, something pulled away. A voice burst into her head, cold and drawling and painfully familiar — "Is this what the House of Black has fallen to? Traitors and deserters?"
That voice chilled her more than any other. It rang in her ears, the tone of it, the disgust and hatred. She forced herself to think of anything, anyone else, imagining Dora's laughter when her Christmas card had made red and yellow glitter explode in Aurora's face, the warmth of hot chocolate on Christmas night. Family, family, all the family she had left... "Expecto patronum," she tried again, but it was punctuated with a sharp cry from Hermione Granger, as Potter stepped back, stumbling.
She lost her grip on Pettigrew's arm. It all happened too fast, and pain burned in her chest, and he was gone and then her father was running, transforming back to himself and she didn't understand why — until she realised, he was leading the Dementors away.
But he couldn't survive the Dementors.
"Get Weasley to the Hospital Wing," she ordered Granger and Potter, swapping her wand over. She was already running, even though her legs were numb, even though she could feel the screams of thirteen years ago tearing her chest. "Find Dumbledore — explain!"
Granger shouted after her, but Aurora had to keep running. My father's going to be free, she repeated to herself, breaths growing painful. She was caught in the mass of Dementors now, felt her knees give way. "Expecto patronum, expecto patronum, expecto patronum!" Faint wisps, the beginnings of a tail, a canine head. There were feet behind her, and she needed the light of the shield to guide her, so she could see her father, where he was doubled over at the edge of the lake, holding a squirming creature in his hands.
He's going to be free, she reminded herself. Her chest burned. "Don't cry," Arcturus said and her mother screamed, "Not Aurora — please, run!" and her father's words burst through the ringing in her ears, "I love you!"
"Expecto patronum!" Aurora shouted again, but the words were snatched the instant they left her.
Her legs were numb and she was slowing with the sharp pain pressing on her chest. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts — she had to get to her father, he had to be free.
She stumbled down the banking, but there were more of them by the lake and her father was shaking and pale, his grip loosening. Aurora screamed again, "Expecto patronum!" but here, with the cold biting at her skin, with the memory of that night burning stronger than ever, she felt it wobble.
"Don't you dare lay a finger — Aurora, Aurora!"
The silver light of her shield flickered. All she could do to keep the squirming rat in her father's clutches still was to lunge over, press down so that it was trapped between her and her father and the sand.
"Marlene, please—"
"There's the little mudblood—"
"It could be so easy, you could redeem yourself, come back to the family—"
"Never — not ever—"
"Crucio!"
Pain burst through her, blinding, and then there was a ringing in her ears, spectres of silver light running at her through the darkness, scattering the Dementors...
Someone was calling her name, screaming it, and her father's. She felt warm hands take her arms, numbed by the cold, and her voice sputtered out, "Expecto patronum," before it all disappeared, and all she could see was red, red light behind her eyes.