Aurora was just past her fourth birthday when Grandmother brought Carlotta Yaxley to their home. "She will be your tutor," she told Aurora crisply. "In reading and writing — English, Latin, French, History, and mathematics, as well as anything else you want to learn and you agree with me."
Aurora's eyes lit up. Now she might be able to read the non picture books her grandmother kept giving her. "Really?" She beamed and ran to give her grandmother a hug. She was very stiff and did not give good hugs at all, so Aurora walked back quickly and shook her head. "Sorry, Grandmother."
Grandmother looked down at her, tight-lipped. "You can start with the alphabet, Yaxley." Carlotta nodded. "Start now."
Aurora learned her As and Bs and Cs and then her 1s and 2s and 3s. She found that while reading was fun, she liked doing maths and making the numbers all add up just right, and perfecting the shape of every single one of them. Reading let her imagine, but adding and subtracting was real and rational and it was very satisfying to get it right and to have Carlotta tell her so.
She got to meet the Malfoys' son, too, when she was five and Grandmother judged her as old and responsible enough to make friends — because Arcturus and Cygnus and Cassiopeia were the only other people she really knew, and they were all old and not stimulating relationships. Draco wasn't at all like her faint memory of the dark haired boy she had been friends with; he was blonde and pale and upright and proper and he told her off for ripping the page of one of his books but then he got his house elf to fix it and it was okay. He was a good flier, though, and successfully bullied his parents into letting him and Aurora race each other around their massive garden on brooms.
"You're good," he told her when they landed, both flushed. "For a girl."
"I'm good for anyone," she told him, crossing her arms and scowling. "I'll beat you if we race again."
He laughed at her but the next time they went head to head, she did beat him, and she greatly enjoyed the look on his face when she did so. She also enjoyed Grandmother's faint smile when she told her of how she'd beaten Draco by a considerable time, and she greatly enjoyed getting ice cream as part of her pudding that night, as a special treat. "You mustn't be arrogant, though," her grandmother warn her. "And you mustn't be inelegant." Aurora drew herself up taller and pulled her sleeves down so they were smooth. Her grandmother looked at her approvingly. "Good. You are learning. I'll get that dirty blood out of you yet."
And when Aurora was very nearly six years old, and learning to be prim and proper and hold herself like a pureblood lady, Grandmother died. It wasn't sudden, people said, because she'd been ill for years, ever since Regulus died. But it was sudden to Aurora, who didn't understand how her grandmother had been getting slower and tireder, and who didn't know how dying worked. She thought of her Mummy, when she sat in a set of black robes and watched a heavy coffin getting lowered into the ground. She knew her Mummy had been in a coffin, but she hadn't sat and watched. Papa hadn't let her.
Part of her thought, maybe hoped, that her father would come today of all days, to say goodbye to his mother and to take Aurora home with him to Kreacher. But he didn't. She wasn't sure she would know his face anyway. At the end of the funeral, Orcus Selwyn took her over to Arcturus Black, a tall old man, balding with white hair and a lot of wrinkles. He had the same eyes as she did — deep, dark brown, and wide, though sunken more into his face now. She went home with him, to a big house in the Cornish countryside with high ceilings and lots of pretty chandeliers and stained glass windows.
There was lots of room for her to run about, more than there had been when she stayed in Grimmauld Place. And Great-Grandad Arcturus, who she was calling GaGa because Great Grandad Arcturus was a mouthful, was very old and very slow, so didn't stop her from doing as she pleased so long as she didn't go beyond the ring of trees around Black Manor. She liked running through the high grass, liked climbing up the tallest trees in the garden. Arcturus didn't call her things like blood traitor or dirty-blooded like grandmother had — he told her that her mother had been a Muggleborn, but that that was alright because Aurora was Aurora and they would raise her right anyway. He told her to know her worth, but to be kind with her power, never indulging in cruelty unless necessary.
"Many people went too far in the name of purity," he told her once, though she didn't quite understand what he meant by it yet, "go too far down the path of darkness and forget who they are. You won't do that, my Aurora. No, no — this is a new world. Do what you must to survive, for our house. But do not pledge yourself to madness."
But Aurora didn't much care for talk of madness, far more excited to have freedom to run around and someone to give her warm hugs. She was allowed to have visitors too, so Draco Malfoy saw her a few times and so did his friend Pansy Parkinson, who Aurora only liked sometimes, when she wasn't fussing over her hair. She didn't like to fly very much, but that was alright with Aurora. She refereed all of her and Draco's races and usually Aurora won, which Draco didn't like at all.
"You definitely cheat," he told her, and she shook her head.
"You definitely whine," she told him pointedly, remembering what her grandmother had always told her. "And you must never whine. It's unbecoming of you."
The Summer before she turned seven, GaGa took her to Diagon Alley. "When you get your acceptance to school," he told her, "you'll come here to get your books and supplies and your wand, and a broom, if you wish to have one."
"Where will I go to school?" she asked him, clutching his hand tightly as they made their way from the pub to the small corner of street behind. Draco had said his father wanted to send him to Durmstrang, and Pansy wanted to go to Beauxbatons because she thought their uniforms were lovely, but Aurora knew that all of the Blacks — including her father — had gone to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which was in Scotland.
"That's rather up to you," Arcturus told her. "Hogwarts would be ideal, and if you want a position within society or the Ministry here it is best to make connections which would fit someone from the House of Black. But Durmstrang Institute has a very strong curriculum in the Dark Arts which Albus Dumbledore refuses to even consider, and Igor Karkaroff is a family friend. You would do well there. Beauxbatons... I would not recommend it, but you may do some research into the matter. Your name has been down for Hogwarts since you were born - but I suppose, if you decide in a few years' time you would rather go to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, I would support your application." Aurora grinned. Beauxbatons was in France, Pansy had told her, and she thought France must be a lovely place. Paris was meant to be very romantic and they had such lovely dresses in the past.
"What about other schools?" she asked. "Like Ilvermorny?"
Arcturus looked down at her and shook his head. "Absolutely not America. It does not have the legacy we are looking for. American wizards are all flashy, new money. We are Blacks. We are proud, but we don't show off, do we?" She shook her head, as he tapped the wall before them. "No, I would not support you going to Ilvermorny. Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang."
She supposed it wasn't a bad choice. And she was very quickly distracted by the wall in front of her moving away, to reveal a winding, bustling, bright street befores her. "It looks lovely," she said, sighing.
"Yes, yes," Arcturus said crisply. "Stand up straight now, Aurora. If we come across anybody I know, I want you to introduce yourself politely, and smile, and if they extend their hand then you shake it, yes?" She nodded quickly to show she understood him. "And if anyone makes a comment on your birth, or your father, you are to stay quiet and let me handle it. Diplomacy is the most important skill — do not get upset."
Aurora nodded. She'd long since learned not to bring up her father to anyone, and only think about it when she was on her own. She knew more now than she had when she'd lived with her grandmother. She knew Sirius Black, her father, had been a spy for the Dark Lord, whose name no one spoke but whom everyone seemed to revere, and had handed him the vital information he needed to kill the Potters. That was something she didn't understand. He had been friends with them. She remembered hearing that they were her godparents. Then he'd killed their oldest friend, too, and a street of Muggles, and his cousin Bellatrix had tortured the Longbottoms to the point of insanity and then Arcturus had stopped speaking about it, only saying that Aurora had to be better than that, and that the family had to survive it. She didn't ask any more about the subject.
Walking down Diagon Alley felt different to being in any other Wizarding place. She'd been in Grimmauld Place and at the Malfoys' and Parkinsons' houses, and the Black Manor, but none of them felt like Diagon Alley did. It was bright and the sun shone on her and she could feel the excitement of everyone else rushing about, doing their errands. It was nice. She liked it.
Arcturus took her to Twilfitt and Taffling's for some new day robes — she got a sky blue set, a deep purple set, and a black set — and then to the apothecary for ingredients for his Potions. "Can I help?" she asked him and he shook his head.
"This is all very complicated. Perhaps when you're older, and you've shown a little bit more of your magic."
She grinned - that sounded like a yes, eventually - and held her head high as she walked around with Arcturus. There was a little darker corner of the street, leading down into a shadier street and they headed towards there slowly. "Aurora," Arcturus said, "you're goinnto be very sensible and proper, and have a look in Flourish and Blotts for some books to read while I go down here." He pointed to the dark alley and Aurora frowned over his shoulder.
"Why?"
"Don't ask me why. I won't be more than half an hour."
She was about to protest, but Arcturus was already guiding her into the bookshop next door and then he disappeared, leaving her there. Frustration welled behind her eyes, and she stamped her foot, pouting a little. Then she reminded herself not to whine, and tilted her chin higher and strode over to the Latin section. They had a lot of titles there, though they were all very long and probably for witches much older and better at Latin than she was. Quite affronted, she meandered over to the children's section, which she did not think she needed to resort to. They had a lot of copies of something called the Tales of Beedle the Bard. They were Draco's favourite bedtime stories, Pansy said, although he always denied it. She'd never been read bedtime stories by her grandmother and she daren't ask Arcturus to read them to her.
Still. She wanted to know what all the fuss was about. So Aurora crept over and took one of the faded blue copies from the shelf, flipping through it. Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump... The Tale of the Three Brothers... The Warlock's Hairy Heart... They were all rather strange stories, she thought, but nevertheless read through the first two quickly in the time before Arcturus came back for her, holding a small bag that he wouldn't let her see inside.
"That's too young for you," he said, frowning at the book. Aurora hastily slid it onto the shelf. "Come on, why don't we find something in French for you to practise with?"
They found two French books to take home with them, and then Arcturus brought Aurora to the Magical Menagerie. "I thought you might like to have a pet of your own," he said, "seeing as I have an owl, but I'm getting rather old and can't be much fun."
Aurora beamed, looking around. There were many owls on the top of the shelves, petting and staring down at her with wide, bright eyes. A cage of rats scuttled about nearby and she gave them a very wide berth, instead looking around for any signs of dogs. Dogs had always been her favourite animal, and she had vague memories of a big black one, that appeared in her dreams sometimes.
"Are there dogs?" she asked Arcturus, clutching his hand tightly. "I like dogs."
He gave her a strange look. "You do?"
Aurora nodded seriously. "I want a big one, a black dog."
His lips quirked up in a smile. "Well, a dog is a lot of work, Aurora, to train, and I'm not sure a big dog would be very good for the two of us."
"Dogs like me!" Aurora insisted. "My dog is very well trained."
A frown creased his brow. "Your dog?"
She felt immediately she'd said something wrong, but nodded. "The dog in my dreams. I remember it, it's very nice."
Arcturus took a moment to take this in, then nodded slowly. "I see. Well, I still think a dog may be beyond us for now, and I don't see any here besides. Perhaps a cat, though? They make for very loyal familiars."
Aurora held in her pout, knowing that he was right about the lack of dogs here, and headed instead to the corner where a dozen or so cats were playing together. One in particular stood out, a large but excitable black cat. It bounced over to Aurora and she took fright a little before she regained herself.
"Be careful," Arcturus told her sternly, and eyed the cat with suspicion. Aurora laughed, and let the cat lick the tips of her fingers.
"She's a black cat," she said, giggling. Arcturus didn't look nearly as amused as she was. "Can I get her?"
Arcturus sighed, but Aurora had already set her heart on this cat. "Very well, seeing as you like her so much. I'll speak to the clerk."
Aurora beamed, and managed to coerce the black cat into her arms. She brought her over just as the clerk and Arcturus agreed upon a price and her GaGa paid. "Does she have a name?" Aurora asked, stroking the cat, who nuzzled her elbow.
"We call her Katy," the clerk said. "But she might respond to something else."
Aurora frowned at the cat, who glanced up at her with wide, pale yellow eyes. "How about Stella?" The cat mewed affectionately and Aurora beamed, glancing at Arcturus. "She's called Stella now."