For the final two weeks of the holidays, Andromeda and Ted barely let Aurora out of their sight unless she was with her father, and even then, it was clear that Andromeda was wary. She barely got to see Dora, who was constantly in work helping in the aftermath of the attack at the cup. It was like the whole of the Wizarding World had stopped for a moment, shocked to its core by what had happened. She spent her days stuck at either Tonks cottage or at Arbrus Hill, trying to get to know her father.

It was far easier without Potter around. She could allow herself to relax, to be comfortable, less aware of all the differences between herself and Potter, between herself and her father, too. She was less frightened of her feelings and emotions and gradually, she allowed herself to believe that her father truly did love her. He shielded her from the world the same way Andromeda tried to, but he also kept her updated on the goings on. She was very much his child, but he didn't treat her like some immature, fragile thing that couldn't stand the truth of their world.

"The Ministry's named the Muggle man who was murdered," he told her over breakfast a week or so after the Cup Final, and Aurora tensed. "Colin Roberts, the campsite manager, just like Andromeda suspected."

"I can't believe they killed him," Aurora said hollowly, to raised eyebrows. "I mean, I can. I know who those people were, but it still... Doesn't feel real, I suppose. That I was there and someone was murdered, while I just ran into the forest and hid."

"You couldn't be expected to do anything," her father said gently, "the Ministry and all their Aurors couldn't disband the group in time, couldn't save him."

"I was still there," Aurora said, "it's not that I blame myself or anything, it just feels so wrong. What if it had kept going after that? What if I hadn't escaped, what if I'd been caught up and killed, and it - any of us could have died so easily." At the haunted look on her father's face, she quickly stopped talking, feeling suddenly cold.

"But you didn't." His voice was soft and quiet. "I know how strange and awful this all feels, Aurora. Believe me, I do."

She bit her lip, nervous for the answer to her next question. "Is this what it was like? Before? When the Dark Lord — during the war, I mean?"

He nodded gravely. "Yes. More regularly. They'd carry out searches on Muggleborns in Diagon Alley or other Wizarding locations. They'd hunt Muggles as an example, for sport. Every day, there was something new in the papers. It..." He sighed, squeezing his eyes together and shuddering. "I'm sorry, Aurora. I can't... Discuss this, right now."

"That's okay," she said quickly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He reached across the breakfast table and squeezed her hands. "It's natural you have questions, especially after this. But the war — it isn't easy to talk about, is all."

Aurora forced herself to ask the next dreaded question, "Do you think this means anything? I mean, Potter told you about that dream he had the other week, and he seems convinced that Professor Trelawney made some sort of prophecy, which didn't come true because Pettigrew's in prison, but, he still seems to be worried about it. And with all the press activity, the Azkaban appeals..."

"It certainly feels like something's happening," her father admitted, "what that something is, I don't know."

The answer was not good enough. She thought back to Draco and his cold expression when he had spoken of what was happening, his refusal to believe the truth of what had happened. She forced herself to ask, "Have the Ministry put anything out about suspects?"

Her father laughed coldly. "Their prime suspects all have Fudge in their pocket, I imagine. No, they've just appealed for information and said there's no further risk to the public." He snorted. "Fudge says that, anyway."

"I hate him," Aurora muttered. "I hate them all, actually. I mean, all last year, they were harassing me because they locked you up for no good reason and just assumed that I — despite not having seen you since I was a baby — was somehow harbouring a criminal in my boarding school."

"I mean, they weren't entirely wrong."

"They're idiots. And Fudge wants to avoid the whole issue, that's what Dora says, he wants to let it blow over because people never care enough if it's just a Muggle." She glared at her breakfast.

Her father considered her oddly, with a frown. "Your mum said the same thing once, you know." She couldn't help the ways the words — the comparison — made her tense. "And you're right. They don't."

"Everyone's just going to forget about this, aren't they? I suppose we all have to, but. What if something really is happening? Something that's even worse than one attack, what if they're trying to make a come back? And all these years and they've only grown their political influence, all of them, like Lucius Malfoy-"

She stopped herself, at the startled look on her father's face. She had said too much, revealed too much, she shouldn't have let slip Lucius's name.

"You think he was involved?"

"I — I don't know. Draco got separated from them all. But, that's just an example. He may have reformed, I know he was accused back then..."

"You think he was," her father said shrewdly, "does Draco?"

She pursed her lips together. "I don't know," she lied, but her father seemed to see through it.

"I see."

"Draco's only fourteen, Dad. He doesn't know what to believe, about anything."

From the harsh look on his face, her father did not agree one bit. "I knew boys like Draco in my day, too, Aurora. If you think Lucius Malfoy was in that group — if you think that Draco knows, if he admitted it — then you need to say something."

"We've already established that that would do nothing," she snarled, "and besides, Draco exaggerates. All the time. He'd say anything for a bit of excitement, a bit of attention. I've no way of knowing for certain."

"You know who Lucius Malfoy is."

"Precisely. And I know that no accusation ever sticks because he's basically bankrolling the Minister of Magic. But I just... Dad, I don't know what's expected of me when I go back to Hogwarts. Not with all of this. I'll be expected to have a certain view that I cannot support, and I'll be questioned, I know I will, about you and about my mother."

"Then you tell them the truth," her father said plainly, as if it was so easy. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not saying there is," she snapped in return, cheeks flaring. "But it would be dangerous in my position to admit to anything, especially if there's a risk of the Death Eaters returning. I — those people who killed her, who tried to kill us, would try again."

Darkness fell over her father's face suddenly, like a portcullis over castle gates. Her stomach turned.

And then he squeezed her hands tightly. "I won't let them hurt you."

"That's not something you can control, Dad."

"I wasn't enough last time, and I — I'm so sorry. But I swore to Marlene that I would protect you no matter what. I haven't been able to do that, and that — well, a lot of that's my own fault, too. I know that. This is all terrifying to me, too. But — listen, I know you can make your own decisions. Just be careful with your friends. If you're really worried—"

"If you mean Draco—"

"I don't mean anyone in particular," he said softly, in the way that seemed to tell her that he absolutely did.

But Aurora knew he was trying not to. Trying to trust her, too, perhaps. "Are you going to see any of your friends before school starts?" he asked, trying to change the topic. "I know you said Gwen's parents weren't letting her come and visit you anymore."

"She and Robin Oliphant's mother have spooked them," Aurora grumbled. Gwen's parents had been told everything that had happened at the cup, including why their daughter had returned so rattled by what had ought to be an exciting sports match. As such, Gwen had been safely hidden away in the Muggle world all week, and would be until the first of September. "I might ask Pansy over again, or Theo might drop in, I'm not sure."

He smiled tensely. "Good. That's good." Silence lingered. "Aurora, if you're worried, you don't have to worry alone. I know you're trying not to let on that the World Cup scared you, but it's alright to be frightened."

"It's not that I'm frightened," she lied. "It's just... I don't know where I'm supposed to stand. I mean, most of those people would ally with House Black — but they wouldn't ally with me, would they? Some of them would sooner kill me, yet I have to stay on their good side."

"Why?" Her father cocked his head, frowning. "Why do you feel you have to stay on their good side? What makes you think that's even a good idea? Not to stand up for yourself?"

"Because," she said, swallowing nervously, "if I want to change things, I — I can do it better from being on the inside. Rather than dead. And I was always taught that it's better to have allies than enemies, even if those allies have to fear you. But they won't fear me, and I — I don't want to fear them." But on a night like that, so many of them out, and she only a fourteen year old witch... She was not yet nearly powerful enough to protect herself.

"It's better to stand up for what you believe in," her father said, with such conviction that it astounded her. He was so sure of his own beliefs, when she barely knew what to make of or to do with her own. "You can't bow to people like that."

"I don't," Aurora told him sternly, "I'm Lady Black, I don't bow to anyone. But sometimes, you have to give the illusion of bowing. And sometimes, you - you don't really know what you're bowing to. Or what you are, if someone were to bow to you instead." Her father frowned. "I don't believe in all this blood supremacy that people like - that some people believe in. But that doesn't mean it'll go away. It hurts me too. And I — I have to lead this house, this family, and to do that I need the support of certain people."

The frown on her father's face only deepened. Many times, he opened his mouth, eyes with an angry light as though he were going to retort, but then he stopped himself, biting down. Eventually, he said, "If you consider who your family are," he said, "who they are in the present, rather than the opinions of — of those you have lost, regardless of how important I know that they are to you... What do you believe the views of your family to be, Aurora? You can't please or disappoint the dead." The words hit her like a block of ice and he said hurriedly, "That isn't to dismiss you, Aurora. I know how much you love Grandfather Arcturus, and Aunt Lucretia, and even my mother. I know that you hold what they taught you dear, all parts of it, because you were a child and I can't expect you not to want to hold onto the memories you have of them. But that doesn't mean you should sacrifice yourself or your beliefs for what you remember them to be. I know you want to live up to their memory and their hopes for you, Grandfather most of all." His eyes were pleading as he squeezed as her hands. "But you will never know if you have. Don't betray yourself for their memory. I can't speak for my mother or even Lucretia, and I can't truly speak for Grandfather... But I think you'd believe, that he would want — always wanted, from what you've told me — for you to be happy. To lead this family yourself.

"Don't compromise your beliefs, Aurora. I know you think you have to think and act a certain way to have power, but that's no power if it isn't your own."

She stared at him, then narrowed her eyes. "Have you swallowed one of those self-help books Andromeda gave you?"

He gave her a flat look, trying to disguise his faint amusement. "This is a serious conversation."

"I know." She fidgeted, withdrawing her hands from his grasp and re-crossing her ankles. "I know. I don't know what I can believe yet. it's like — I know muggleborns and muggles aren't inferior. I've seen their inventions, even as odd as they are. I know they're not brutes, because Ted is one of the kindest people I know and Gwen wouldn't hurt a fly. And because I'm not a Muggleborn but I've always known my mother was even if I didn't know who she was, and if there's one thing Arcturus taught me, it's that I'm not inferior to anyone. I just don't know how I can express that. And I know you probably think that makes me a coward." That last sentence came out in a rush and she looked away, afraid to meet her father's eyes and see his confirmation there.

But he didn't confirm it. "I don't think you're a coward, Aurora. I think you're fourteen, and far braver than I was at your age. You forget, I've been where you are. In some aspects it was easier for me to leave that all behind. So, I wish you knew what you could do, I wish you didn't think you need the power of awful people to justify your own.

"But I understand that it's terrifying to think of another option, and it's terrifying to think what you leave behind and discount. You're fourteen, and no one can place the burden of society onto you. No matter who it is.

"I trust you. I know you know what's right." He reached across again, eyes imploring. "I understand. It's okay."

The well of gratitude rose inside of her no matter how much she tried to suppress it. And a tentative smile burst onto her features, as she nodded, daring to look in his eyes and see not judgment or expectation there, but love. Understanding.

"Thank you," she whispered, at last.

-*

On the final evening before Aurora was meant to start school again, she and her father both had dinner at the Tonkses'. He, too, seemed apprehensive about the year ahead, but Aurora thought that might have more to do with the fact that he knew he likely wouldn't see her again until Christmas.

"It's going to be strange rattling around an empty house for so long," he admitted while Andromeda and Ted were bickering over pudding. "I can't help thinking it's too big for me. I'll have to take up flying — broom flying, that is, the motorbike's giving off those funny fumes again — just for something to do. Maybe I'll join an elderly Quidditch team."

"What, at thirty-four?"

"If you're elderly," Dora said, eyebrows raised, "I'd hate for you to tell Mum what she is."

He cracked a grin and shrugged. "Alright, middle-aged Quidditch team. See if I can rope Remus in this time, he never could be bothered playing even if he went daft at all our games."

Dora grinned at that, and started a question about Lupin, but then the lights suddenly went out, and the kitchen door swung open to reveal Andromeda and Ted holding a simply massive cake between them, starting to sing, "Happy birthday."

Aurora stared at them, wondering who on earth's birthday they were celebrating, before realising they were coming towards her. Andromeda set the cake down in front of her, and she stared at the flickering candles.

"What on earth is this?"

"Well—" Andromeda and Sirius traded grins "—since your birthday is so soon, but you'll be away at school, your father thought — and we agree — that it would be nice to have a little celebration in your honour." Aurora blinked at her. "So we got you a birthday cake!"

She felt, much to her horror, emotion well up inside of her. Gratitude, and affection — that they had thought to do this for her, and it was sweet, and kind, and caring, and she had never really had a birthday cake before but it still made her beam with happiness as she blew out the flickering candles. "This really... You didn't have to."

"Nonsense." Andromeda put an arm around her shoulders. "We should have celebrated many times before. We'll send a present on up as usual for the day, but there a couple of things we wanted to give you early anyway."

Curiosity piqued, Aurora frowned at Andromeda, but Ted was insisting that she cut the cake by herself and hand out slices. "It's tradition," he told her. "I don't know why, but it is."

Aurora cut into the cake carefully and Dora cheered, demanding the second slice — Aurora, apparently, was meant to eat the first. The cake was passed around, and once everyone was satisfied, Andromeda packaged the remainder up so Aurora could share it with her friends on the train the next day, and they all went into the lounge, where two boxes rested side by side on the coffee table. Andromeda looked exceptionally pleased with herself as she took a seat on the arm of the sofa.

"The large, flat one's from the three of us," she told Aurora, "the smaller's from Sirius."

Aurora went for that second one first, unwrapping the paper carefully and wondering at how differently she felt now than she did the last time she had received a gift from her father. The box was strange, slightly shining cardboard, and when Aurora managed to open it, she lifted out a large black camera, and stared at it.

"It's a digital camera," Ted explained for her father.

"I thought you could use it to document everything at school. Since I've missed so much... Well, we can teach you how it works. We thought you could use it this year to take pictures of what you get up to at school. Since it's not like I can really visit you much and I've missed out on most of the first three years, and — and most of your life. I'd like to see the photos. Not of everything, of course just of — of whatever you want. Whatever is important to you."

This was the second time in ten minutes that Aurora had felt such an overwhelming swell of delight, as she beamed at her father. It wasn't the gift itself but the thought behind it that made her feel stupidly emotional. "Thank you," she said, accepting his offered embrace. "That's such a lovely idea." She knew her words were stifled because she didn't know how else to express them or her feelings, but Aurora got the feeling that her father understood.

"And then you can tell me all about it when you get home, or whenever I see you next! And—" he glanced to Dora, grinning "—now I know what's happening at Hogwarts this year, too—"

"What is it?"

"—but we still can't tell you."

Aurora sighed dramatically, as the adults laughed. "That is still completely unfair."

Andromeda laughed and said, "Open our box. Your Hogwarts letter said to bring evening dress robes, and I know you said were just going to choose between the sets you already have, but I happen to know that you'll need a winter set, which you don't have."

Intrigued, Aurora set the camera down carefully, and took the lid off of the robes box. Folded inside was a set of deep purple velvet robes, the fabric heavier than any of her summer dress robes. The robes rippled with light when she took them carefully out of the box, revealing a silver silk skirt beneath the outer robes, traces of silver embroidery around the hem and cuffs, and the same silver thread shot through the bodice. With it was a thick silver silk sash, meant to go around the waist.

"These are gorgeous," she whispered, turning around. "Andromeda!"

"You like them, then?" she asked, smirking.

"They're beautiful! You didn't have to!"

"I thought they would suit you well. Hold them up so we can see." Aurora did so, positioning the waist sash just right. The sleeves, when worn, would hang just off her shoulders, and the neckline dipped into a gentle v-shape that was still high up enough on her chest to remain modest. "There were some variations with lace around the neck, but I thought they looked awfully outdated, and you're a young girl."

Aurora smiled, holding the soft fabric against herself. "Thank you, so much. I love them." She raised her eyebrows at them all. "Are you going to tell me what's happening now?"

Ted laughed. "You'll find out tomorrow night at the school. Promise."

She tutted as she folded the robes carefully away again, and placed them back into their box. "Okay," she said, "but I don't, then I will be be very upset with you all."

Everyone around her just laughed.

-*

It was Andromeda who waved her off on the Hogwarts Express the next morning. Ted and Dora both had work, and her father's arrival would draw an awful lot of unnecessary attention, but Aurora was still more than happy to have Andromeda there.

"Now," she reminded her, lingering by the door of the usual Slytherin carriage. "I want you to be careful. And behave yourself."

"I'm always careful, Andromeda."

She gave her a flat look. "So the last half of your third year has escaped your memory, then?"

"I was very careful," she countered, "and I did not get caught doing anything improper." She flashed a smile. "I know what you mean, Andromeda. But I will be safe. I can look after myself, you know that."

With a wry smile, Andromeda said, "You know everyone will be paying attention to you. They already are. I know they were last year, too, but this is different. This is about you. Just watch what you're doing."

She knew what she meant by that — last year had been about distancing herself from her father, and then, about proving his innocence. This year, any and all attempts at politics would directly involve her persona, and what people thought they could gain from her. Plenty of influential people had children at Hogwarts, and if they couldn't access her in their usual circles, there would be movements around her.

"I know who I am," she said, "and what I want."

Andromeda didn't seem entirely eased by this proclamation, but she did smile, and hugged Aurora tightly again. "Even so. Write to me if you need to, alright?"

"I will," Aurora promised, leaning back and kissing Andromeda's cheek. "And thank you, for everything, and being so... accommodating, this Summer."

A smile wavered on Andromeda's lips. "Oh, Aurora, it's the least I could do. You're family, and we stick together."

Those words made her swell with happiness, confirming something that she herself was finally coming around to believing in. "Now, go and have a better year than last, alright? I want every detail — and you never know, you might be seeing Dora sooner than you think."

She winked, and Aurora wanted to ask for elaboration, but knew she wouldn't get anywhere. With her trunk in her hand and Stella curled up in her left arm, head buried into the crook of Aurora's elbow, she smiled at Andromeda, wished her goodbye and thank you again, and made her way onto the train.

Passing through the corridor, Aurora felt a small but sudden surge of nerves. It was completely ridiculous, and she reminded herself so. She popped her head into the compartment where Cassius and Graham were sat — neither of them had been made Quidditch Captain, and she assumed with annoyance that it had been given to either Derrick or Bole — then said hello to Flora and Hestia Carrow, and arrived at the little compartment where Theodore was seated with Daphne and Blaise.

"Morning, you three," she greeted, stepping inside, letting Stella down on the seat next to Theodore, where she hissed and curled up next to him. "Sorry," she told him with a wince, "she's becoming old and grumpy."

"It's alright," Theodore laughed, stroking her back gently, "she's sweet."

Stella hissed again. "She doesn't like being called sweet any more than I do." Blaise got up to help Aurora stow her trunk away and she glared at him, but let him do it and save her the trouble of having to climb onto the seat to reach properly, before she sank down beside Theodore and brought Stella to sit in her lap.

There wasn't very much to catch each other up on — the Quidditch World Cup, after all, wasn't a particularly nice topic of conversation. Theodore told them about his youngest two siblings, Phillip and Anastasia, who were both starting Hogwarts this year.

"I've handed them over to my cousin Gisela — she made prefect this year, it was all she talked about when we visited last week."

"That sounds very caring of you, Theodore," Blaise drawled.

"They'll appear if they need me," he said, "but Ana all but demanded I leave them alone earlier. I fuss too much, apparently, even though I was only doing what our mother told me to. Gisela's more likely to shove them in with whoever she thinks is most important and wipe her hands of them until the Sorting."

Daphne shook her head. "Well, they've certainly got their pick of friends. Lucille's sister's starting too — Amélie, I think — there's Millicent's cousin, that Avery girl, and our cousin Tristan. There's a MacMillan girl, too — Louise, I think her name is? Leah would know. They're expecting a much larger cohort this year than they have previously, in general."

Of course, Aurora thought. All those post-war couplings, the security of a new world allowing people to finally settle down and start a family after a decade of fighting. And over a decade since the fall of the Dark Lord, his followers may be rising again.

It was a disconcerting thought, one which seemed to fall upon Daphne and Blaise for only a moment before the latter said flippantly, "I think one of my stepsisters is starting too, but I don't really care to find out what she looks like."

Theodore stared out the window, where some families were still hurrying around, saying their goodbyes to their children. To have been eleven now, his siblings must have been conceived only a few months after the end of the war, in that space of time before his father had been sent to Azkaban. The thought, sudden as it was, made Aurora suddenly urgent to change the topic of conversation.

"Anyone want to hear about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" she asked, and Theodore's head snapped around.

Daphne leaned forward, intrigued. "You don't know who it is?"

"My cousin told me. Dumbledore asked Mad-Eye Moody to take the job as a personal favour, before he retired."

"The Auror?" Blaise let out a low whistle. "That's going to go down well."

"It'll still go down better than a werewolf," Daphne pointed out, which didn't feel entirely helpful. On the occasions Aurora had seen Lupin over the Summer — though he kept insisting she call him Remus now — he had been clearly struggling after the loss of his job. Even if he was a werewolf, he had been their best teacher, and kinder than many wizards. "And he'll definitely be a better teacher than Lockhart or Quirrel."

Theodore snorted. "Doesn't mean the appointment's going to be popular, though, does it?"

"Dora says Mad-Eye's the best in his field, even now he's closing in on retirement." She shrugged. "It'll be educational, even if it isn't popular."

"I'm not saying I'm against the choice," Theodore was quick to rectify, though it wasn't entirely necessary, "but practically speaking, the man'll have a lot of enemies, and—"

"What's this about enemies?" Pansy and Draco had arrived, with Lucille and her pouting younger sister in tow. "Lady Black been up to no good?"

"You don't have to call me that," Aurora told Pansy tiredly, though her friend was grinning. "And no, actually — I'm far too nice to have enemies, Pansy, hadn't you noticed?"

Draco snorted as the four newcomers slipped into the already cramped compartment, resulting in Aurora being squashed tightly between her cousin and a rather agitated looking Theodore, while Pansy sat half in Draco's lap. Lucille wrinkled her nose at the display, and had her sister perch on the edge of the bench she took with Daphne and Blaise.

"Aurora was telling us Auror Moody's the new Defense teacher," Daphne explained. The reaction was predictable: Draco's eyes widened in surprise, Pansy's narrowed in suspicion, Lucille made a disdainful face and her little sister retreated into the seat.

"Told you," Theodore murmured, low enough that only Aurora could hear him.

"I'll bet Dumbledore loved that," Draco muttered, "I bet he'll use him to spy on us and everything... My father says Moody's a nosy old bugger."

Aurora had nothing to say that. She was more and more feeling that Lucius Malfoy truly did have something to hide, and something to atone for. He had evaded Azkaban, as had so many others, and she felt suddenly uncomfortable in the stifling compartment. It was unfair, she thought, for her to think this way surrounded by her friends — but of the Malfoys and Parkinsons and Notts and Traverses, how many had been killed and how many crimes forgotten?

As the train started moving, she announced, "I'm going to find Gwendolyn, see how she is. Did anyone see her or Oliphant?"

No one had, but Theodore got up to join her, hoping that Robin would be in the same compartment. "And it's far too cramped in there," he said, once they'd shut the door. "And are you alright?"

The question startled her somewhat. "I am," she told him.

"You just looked slightly uncomfortable." He shrugged and held his hands up. "But you're probably going to tell me that's none of my business what you look like, so let's see if we can find Robin. Look out for a Fanged Frisbee, he told me he got one that's bright green from the cup, but it recites limericks everytime it hits something."

"It sounds almost as annoying as him."

Theodore smirked. "Would you tell him that to his face?"

"Oh, I have," she assured him, glancing in the next compartment, where they caught Astoria's eye and waved, before moving on. "How are your siblings then? Are they excited?"

"Phillip is," Theodore said. "Ana wants to go to Beauxbatons, but my grandfather..." He trailed off. "Anyway, she'll get to meet half of Beauxbatons this year anyway, apparently."

Aurora frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

Theodore stared. "You don't know? I thought your cousin worked in the Ministry?"

"She does. Is this what they've been going on about all Summer? There are Beauxbatons students coming to Hogwarts?"

"Not Just Beauxbatons — word is, they're reinstating the Triwizard Tournament. Sorry, I just assumed you knew about it."

"The Triwizard Tournament?" Aurora stared at him, hardly believing it. The tournament had been outlawed for centuries, and she had heard that more people died as a result of it than survived it. "They're reinstating that?"

Theodore shrugged. "Apparently. It all sounds like a big distraction to me. My aunt said they've put in all these restrictions and rules, to make it safer, but you still wouldn't catch me going out for it. Oh — is that MacMillan?"

Aurora turned around, seeing Leah MacMillan sitting on one of the benches in a small compartment, and just across from her were Gwen and Robin. It was Aurora who edged the door open, Theodore looking suddenly nervous. "Gwen," she greeted, "are you alright?"

Gwen winced as Aurora hurried inside. "Well, I'm here, so that's something. Mum really didn't want me to come to school, I thought I was going to have to write to Dumbledore about it."

"My mum had to go over and talk to her," Robin put in, while Leah MacMillan, Aurora noticed, regarded Theodore with a great degree of wariness. "Explained that Gwen's safer at Hogwarts than anywhere else, and this sort of thing doesn't happen often at all."

"Except I'd already dropped a bit about the war and stuff — I had to, to explain everything about your dad... Anyway, she wasn't happy, but I'm here."

Aurora sighed. "I'm sorry. I should have gotten Andromeda to speak to her as well. But she barely let me out of her sight."

"My parents were the same," Robin agreed. "Not like they have as much reason to, but everyone's spooked."

Leah MacMillan hummed slightly as she said, "My father says the Ministry's doing all they can, and Ernie believes him, of course, but I don't know. I mean, how did they let it happen in the first place? And get to that point?"

"No one was expecting it," Theodore said softly, slightly flushed. "Not after all these years."

"And I bet half the Ministry was in on it," Robin muttered.

Gwen held her arms tightly to her chest. "I hate this. Why would they do — why are wizards like this?"

To that, none of them had an answer.

It was Leah who got them onto the subject of school, as she had heard about Moody's appointment as Defense Professor, too. The two of them went over the Arithmancy homework which Professor Vector had set them over the holiday, while Theodore and the other two went on about Astrology and the horoscopes they had been sent to look at, which Aurora thought sounded both incredibly confusing and dreadfully dull. She wasn't even certain that they knew what they were talking about.

And she was glad that Leah MacMillan was so willing to engage in conversation with her. After all, her family was influential, and even if Aurora didn't want to engage with them yet, the friendship could prove valuable. And truthfully, MacMillan was not the most annoying person in the world. A lot of what she said was actually rather interesting, and by the time Aurora and Theodore decided they had better show face with the rest again, they had agreed to get organised and study together at some point during the year, which Aurora counted as some form of success.

The rest of the journey went on through the usual games and gossip, with multiple siblings and cousins and random associates appearing from time to time. But there was still a most definite shift in the air, the sense that this year would not be quite like the last, and that the world around them was changing at a rate they could not control.

The weather broke somewhere near Ayrshire, and rain got heavier and heavier the farther north the Hogwarts Express travelled. By the time they got to the castle, everyone was soaked, made worse by Peeves the poltergeist dropping water balloons on everyone's heads as they passed.

"Times like this," Aurora muttered to Millicent, who was furiously trying to detangle her sopping hair, "I really wish poltergeists could be killed."

"These are new robes," Millicent complained, tugging at her sleeves as they passed into the hall.

There were already puddles forming beneath the chairs of the Slytherin table as their group sat down. Over at the Hufflepuff Table, younger students were being bundled into warm cloaks, and Ravenclaws were discussing the best means of drying everyone off at once. Some of the Gryffindors had managed to get a hold of the water balloons and were throwing them at each other, like animals. Aurora saw Potter come in, his hair even more of a mess than usual, and caught his eye. To her annoyance, he grinned over at her, and she had to incline her head in return, out of politeness alone.

"New friend?" Cassius' voice said in her ear as he dropped onto the bench beside her. "You've been the talk of the Warrington household all summer, you know."

"Is that so?" She turned to him with a faint smile. "Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for you."

Cassius laughed, and turned her shoulder slightly. Aurora bristled at the presumptuous, but he said, "Hold still. I'll do a drying charm for you." He was, to her irritation, already perfectly dried off — but no part of him appeared singed, so she trusted him to perform the spell.

"Be careful with my hair," she instructed. "It doesn't like being dried quickly, it goes frizzy."

"I'm sure it's fine," he said, and she felt the cold of his fingertips against the skin of her neck as he waved his wand over her body. Instantly, warmth spread through her, from her own fingertips through to her chest, lifting the damp from her robes. "There. Perfect. And you won't have to shiver through the entire feast." As he lifted his hand away, it brushed against her hair, and Aurora felt her breath catch slightly. "Your hair's cute like that, too."

She gaped at him, at a loss for words until she managed to say, "I wouldn't describe it as cute."

He just smirked, turning away again slightly. "Well, I like it." Aurora could feel her cheeks heating up, and looked determinedly away. "You've heard about the tournament happening, right?" She nodded, grateful to get the attention away from her hair. "Graham reckons they might cancel Quidditch for it."

"That's ridiculous," Aurora said immediately, staring at him, "they can't cancel Quidditch. Unless the tournament has an event every weekend or something — Quidditch is too important!"

Cassius shrugged. "That's just what Graham thinks. 'Specially cause no one's been made captain."

That was unsettling news. Quidditch was one of the highlights of Hogwarts after all, and this was supposed to be her year to make it on the main team. "If that happens," she said, "I might just pack it in and move to Beauxbatons."

Laughing, Cassius said, "Do you know, I might just join you, too." His eyes flicked along the table. "I should go, Drina's waving at me — I'm supposed to help organise initiation this year, and she wants us all to take notes on the Sorting." He rolled his eyes. "See you later though, yeah?"

Aurora felt slightly tense in the shoulders as she grinned at him. "Of course. We may have to organise that move to Beauxbatons anyway."

There was a small thrill of pleasure as Cassius laughed, and got up to join Millicent's older sister, Drina. Millicent huffed loudly when he left. "He didn't even offer to do that charm on me!" she complained, and Aurora flushed.

"Sorry, Millie. At least you're not the only one — here, take your cloak off and hang it behind us, you can wrap my cloak around you if you want."

Millicent did so, and Aurora took the opportunity to look up at the High Table. All the usual teachers were assembled, with no sign of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

"You're sure it's meant to be Mad-Eye Moody?" Draco asked her, leaning across the table.

"I've yet to see anything to the contrary," she replied, with a nod to the staff table. "And Dora told me so herself, she would know. As did Leah MacMillan."

Draco frowned. "You've been talking to MacMillan?"

Sighing, Aurora fixed him with a pointed look and said, "Why shouldn't I? We made small talk on the train."

Her cousin looked only briefly annoyed by this before he said, "I suppose she is a pureblood."

The words grated on her and she turned away, hoping to make conversation with Daphne, but the doors of the Great Hall opened loudly to reveal the new crowd of first years. And there were far more of them than there were of Aurora's year, as they had discussed. Of course, they were all absolutely soaking wet, and one tiny boy shivered in Professor Hagrid's moleskin coat, looking like he had gone for a swim.

"Edward looks furious," Millicent said gleefully. "He's been drenched!"

"So does Tristan," Daphne giggled, "poor dears."

Malcolm Baddock was one of the first to be Sorted, and the first of their new Slytherins. Aurora's table cheered and clapped and she saw Cassius with his head bent next to Drina Bulstrode, scribbling notes on parchment. The Sorting took an awful long time, interrupted partway through by the arrival of Alastor Moody, who was such a startling sight that whispers rang around the room right through the sorting of Louise Jenkins into Gryffindor. The Slytherins received their fair share too, and Aurora kept track carefully; Edward Bulstrode was predictable, and Tristan Greengrass declared a Slytherin almost as soon as the hat touched his head, but Alya Avery had gone to Ravenclaw, causing a ripple of murmurs around the table — at least it was better than Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. There were plenty of other names Aurora was unfamiliar with, but some she recognised from the Legislating Assembly or the Wizengamot, and these ones she watched carefully on their way to the table. Chloe Huntington turned out to be Blaise's stepsister, and she wore a ferocious smile as she became Slytherin, shooting Blaise a snide look down the table.

Phillip Nott was a quick Sorting, too, to Theodore's relief, but Anastasia took longer. Still, she became a Slytherin with a beaming smile, and squashed herself in between her grinning brothers. Lucille's sister was predictable, and one of the last of this cohort to be Sorted. By the time the final student had been Sorted, everyone was starving and ready for dinne, but Dumbledore took to his podium instead, eyes twinkling.

"I have only two words to say to you all," he said, which Aurora thought didn't require any of the drama with which he spun out his robes. "For now, anyway: Tuck in."

There were a couple of whispers at the lack of grand speech, but Aurora felt it was coming. If not because of the tournament, then because surely, the events of the Summer would be acknowledged in some form. Then again, perhaps Dumbledore didn't want to overstep. He rarely seemed to have such qualms, but maybe the matter was too sensitive for the first speech of the year.

With that set aside in her mind, Aurora helped herself to the food laid out before them, listening to the conversations around her. Few people made mention of the Quidditch Cup, dancing around the subject as best they could, and Aurora found herself more intrigued by the small clusters of first years. The Notts sat with Edward and Tristan and Amélie Travers, nearby Aurora's own group of friends, but further along was a much more nervous looking group. Halfbloods, most likely, or anyone uncertain of their position in the house.

When at last Dumbledore got to his feet again, the hall fell silent in seconds, and everyone looked up in anticipation. "So," he began, beaming, "now we are all fed and watered, I must again ask for your attention and raise a couple of notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has requested that I inform you all that the list of banned objects has now been extended to include Screaming Yo-Yo's, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some forty-seven items, and may be found in Mr. Filch's office, should anyone wish to enquiry further." Down the table, Robin Oliphant pouted at the knowledge that his new frisbee was banned — not that Aurora thought this would stop him from using it. "As ever, it is my duty to inform you that the forest on the grounds is out of bounds to all students—" Aurora tried not to flush, feeling this may be pointed at her, even though Dumbledore said it every year "—as is the village of Hogsmeade to all students below third year. In light of the events this Summer, we urge all students to use caution when in the village — though I am certain that you will all be protected here." Before anyone could properly process that, he continued, "I would also like to introduce you all to the newest addition to the staff, Professor Alastor Moody, who will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." The same whispers went up again, mixed with some startled applause, but Dumbledore held up a quieting hand, eyes twinkling. "Professor Moody is a retired Auror, and I am certain that you will all benefit greatly from his tutelage.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year." The reaction of indignant yells from across all four houses was predictable, but rousing nonetheless.

"Ridiculous," Draco muttered. "Old fool."

Aurora was inclined to agree.

"This," Dumbledore continued, "is due to an event which will be starting in October and continuing throughout the year, taking up much of your teachers' time, but I am sure that you all will enjoy it immensely. This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests, too. You see, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a very exciting event which has not taken place for over a century. And so, it is with the greatest pleasure that I inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year!"

There was a moment of surprised silence before people started cheering. "You're JOKING!" yelled Fred and George Weasley, which even Aurora had to chuckle at.

"I am not, in fact, joking, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore, "though now that you mention it I did hear a rather amusing one over the summer which involved a hag and a leprechaun who walked into a bar — but now is perhaps, not the time." Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, looking greatly annoyed. "Some of you will not know what the tournament entails, so I hope that those of you who do will forgive me for a short explanation and allow their minds to wander freely."

Aurora sighed, as did many of her friends, as Dumbledore went on about the organisation of the tournament and the arrangements for representatives of the other schools, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Apparently Bartemius Crouch had been working on the project, as Head of the Department of International Magical Co-Operation — Aurora thought perhaps she could catch him off-guard, to at least find out why he was so insistent on ignoring her correspondence in such an unprofessional manner.

The headmaster's words about eternal glory were certainly appealing to Aurora, but the next part captured the anger of many students. "... The heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have decided to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is, to say, of seventeen years of age or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This—" Dumbledore had to raise his voice over the rabble of protests from all four house tables, Draco crying out in indignation along with many of the fifth and sixth years "—is a measure we feel is necessary given that the tournament tasks will be dangerous and difficult, no matter the precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh years will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."

This, Aurora thought, was ridiculous. The age restriction was annoying but somewhat understandable — but it meant that the whole school had to suffer when only a handful of students could even be considered to participate in the tournament. Surely, she thought, Quidditch could go ahead. Though she didn't really want to move to Beauxbatons, she did have a mind to protest about the injustice.

"And now," Dumbledore said, after mentioning the other schools' arrival in October, "it is late and you all must be rested before you enter your first lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime, then — chop chop!"

Aurora rolled her eyes at the condescending finish, but got to her feet with everyone else. "Exciting, isn't it?" Millicent said giddily as she fetched her cloak. "I bet Drina'll put her name in for it — she's seventeen in the middle of October though, so I suppose it depends when the names have to be submitted."

"Sure," Aurora said, "but I don't see why they have to cancel Quidditch for one stupid competition."

Millicent shrugged, and they joined up with Daphne to head back to the dormitories. "It'll still be fun. Did you bring dress robes — I bet it'll have something to do with the tournament, a ball or something like that."

"The fifth years are all livid," Daphne sang, pouting to their angry cluster. "Just look at them. Oh, this is going to be a fun year with everyone moping about."

Aurora chuckled. "Well, it's certainly going to be something. Whether it's fun remains to be seen."

"Oh, don't be bitter about Quidditch," Daphne laughed, tugging Pansy over to them by the doors. "We're all going to have a jolly good time, aren't we, ladies?"

Pansy tutted. "I only hope the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students are better mannered than the Gryffindors. How many times did those two twins interrupt the Headmaster?"

"Oh, as if you defend Dumbledore, Pansy."

"I defend good manners," she shot back, eyes twinkling. "Not Dumbledore."

Aurora smiled, making her way down to the dungeons with her friends, watching as Lucille's sister argued with Prefect Gisela Fawley and a group of seventh years started comparing knowledge about the past tournaments. She hoped that, at least, nothing would go too awfully this year.

Though perhaps that was too much to hope for.

-*

Author's Note: I'd love to read everyone's thoughts/predictions for fourth year! I'm very excited to share it with you all.