Written for the Houses Competition
House: Gryffindor
Class: Astronomy
Category: Themed
Prompts: [Theme] Isolation; [Word] Lost
Word Count: 1,077
It had never been silent in the castle for as long as Aurora had lived there. There had always been sound, whether it be the sound of fighting, laughing, or building; there had never been silence like there was now. It had quietened some when her father had left, but now it was fully silent. A wordless procession was carrying a coffin to the patch of newly fenced off ground—the graveyard, awaiting its first occupant.
For three days and three nights, Helga had lain next to her family as they told stories of her life and now it was time for her to be placed underground. With her went her drop spindle, her comb, and Father's clay snake. Aurora watched the procession and wished she could cry, wished she could find her father and bring him back while at the same time wishing him to stay away so he would never experience this heartbreak.
Space in the ground for Helga was made with a flick of Godric's wand and her students lowered her gently into her final resting place. Another flick and the earth started hiding her away, claiming her as its own. When the dust had settled, Rowena, tears flowing freely down her face, commanded her magic to inscribe words into the waiting stone to declare who was entombed below.
Helga Hufflepuff, beloved sister and mother to all. May her legacy live on.
Aurora hissed wordlessly and turned away. Her purpose was gone now, lost through the passage of time and a fate she could not hinder or halt. She was no phoenix, no unicorn, no creature who could give life to those running out of it. Aurora was a basilisk; she could only take life, and life—especially this life—was not hers to claim.
Would Father hate her now, now that she had failed the task she had been given so many years ago? It seemed a bizarre thought—Father had been a creature of love, not hate—but now his love was in the ground and Aurora was alone. She had no comfort to give nor receive. She had no reassuring hand stroking her scales and whispering of care. She had lost her father, and now she had lost her mother, too.
Birds had been sent to inform Father of Helga's death but there had been no response. Aurora wondered if Father had joined Helga in the ground without telling anyone. She wondered who had sat beside him, who had made and kept his mesura, who had laid him to rest under the earth. Had anyone done these things for him, or had he been lost in the world as Aurora now was?
An opening in the walls of stone came into view and Aurora dove into the pipe, suddenly desperate to leave the happenings outside and pretend they weren't occuring. If she just returned to her den and waited, Father would come to her as he had so many times before. Helga would search her out and give her comfort. If Aurora could just get there, the world would surely right itself and her family would return to her. They had never failed before.
Aurora swiftly made her way through the maze of pipes Father and Helga had charmed for her passage. They were drier than usual and Aurora shoved the reason for that aside as forcefully as she pushed through the passages. She just had to get to the den. They would be there waiting for her or they would come to her soon. She couldn't miss them, she had to see them before they went off to have dinner or some other small task.
She emerged into a large dark space and searched for the next pipe to take her home. It was only when she couldn't find it, when she truly registered the vast, familiar cavern she was in, did she realise she had reached her destination. The fires were out. The torches that always flickered along the walls were doused. The floor was cold.
A screaming hiss came unbidden from within her as she thrashed around mindlessly on the floor—the floor that was cold in the den that was dark. The magic was gone, lost with its casters. Helga had cast fire, Father had cast warmth, both were no more. Aurora did not even have a remnant of their magic to keep her company. She was alone in the universe; she was a daughter without a father, a caretaker without a charge. What was her purpose without these things in her life? What was her reason for living when the evidence of her reasons—her family—being gone surrounded her?
Her father's face stared sightlessly down at her as she wound around and around herself. She remembered the laughter that had rung through the chamber the day it had been carved. She remembered the joy that had suffused her home when both Father and Helga had been here. There would be no more happy memories made in this home; that ability had been lost when Aurora had lost her tethers.
For a single moment, Aurora wished to go outside and stare and bite until there was no happiness to be found anywhere. Why should she suffer alone when she could make the world suffer with her? But Helga's smile and Father's voice came to her and she knew, if she were to follow that path, she would lose them even more. They would not approve of her actions; they would never cause pain to alleviate their own.
Aurora stared up at her father's stone face and wished she could cry. She wished he was here to cry for her. She wished crying wasn't necessary. They would return, Aurora told herself. Perhaps the everlasting magic had simply worn away and needed to be refreshed, it did not mean Father had left her too. Perhaps, Aurora would just have to wait a little longer than normal, while her family were born again and lived new lives until finding their way home to her.
She would see them again. In thirty years or three hundred, Aurora would see them again. She slithered into her father's mouth and let the stone close around her. Curling around herself, Aurora settled down to wait. She forced herself to calm, forced herself to believe the lies she told herself. She would sleep, and when she woke, Father would be there with Helga at his side. Aurora just had to be patient.