Green Light in the Dark

by AStrangeHopefulDreamer

AU in which Sirius Black had a daughter with Marlene McKinnon. Following the death of her mother and godparents and the imprisonment of her father, Aurora Black is moved from home to home with various members of the Black family until she finally arrives at Hogwarts and finds not only new friends, but a true home. (Please keep comments respectful and think before you type.)

143. Breathe

There were voices coming through the darkness. One sounded like the Minister for Magic, sputtering nonsense, "It can't — it can't be."

Then Dumbledore's, impossible to make out. Aurora tried to turn, to look and see, but she could not open her eyes.

There was that faint emerald light again. A voice whispered, "Come to me, Aurora. Step forward." She could not move. She could not even feel the muscles that would allow her to do so. "Join us. We have been able to feel you for a very long time. You belong with us." The darkness shifted, rippling like grey, muddy water. It was almost like the veil. She felt a burning somewhere against her skin; she could still feel pain, then, good.

Castella's voice said, "I'll take care of you. Bring me with you."

"Where?" she wanted to ask, but she found she could not speak.

"Leave." A man's voice cut through and the darkness in her mind cleared somewhat. He sounded strangely familiar. "She is not for the dead yet. Death does not want her. He is far too curious to snatch her now."

There was a hiss, but no one protested. Aurora's head swam.

She heard Theo's voice through the confusion, and then Kingsley Shacklebolt. They were speaking to one another, it seemed. Then it faded, and the next thing she heard was Andromeda, speaking softly amongst a rabble of other voices. One of them was Potter's.

At least they probably weren't both dead.

Aurora tried to open her eyes but couldn't. Instead, she could merely move her hand vaguely in the direction of Andromeda's voice. When she felt her familiar touch, her whole body relaxed in relief.

"Aurora, love?" Andromeda said. "Can you hear me?" She squeezed her hand, and forced her eyes to open.

She was in the hospital wing, again, staring up at the white beamed ceiling. And she was not alone; there seemed at least half a dozen other beds filled around the room. "We're not…" Her hoarse voice gave out, a sharp dig of pain pricking the back of her throat. "The Ministry?"

"Everything's alright," Andromeda said. "Everyone — your dad and Dora are alive."

But someone wasn't; she could tell by the way Andromeda's gaze darted away, down the room, to someone Aurora could not see. Her stomach twisted. "Remus?—"

"The Order are mostly fine," Andromeda said, lowering her voice. "Quite a few of them are in hospital, but almost all are expected to make it."

"Almost all?"

Andromeda's face fell and Aurora saw, now, the work she had put in to keep up that brave expression. "Sirius is… Not doing well. He suffered a heavy Cruciatus curse, and expended himself so much afterwards…" She sighed. "Like father, like daughter, I suppose."

"What—" Aurora made to sit up, panic seizing her, but Andromeda pushed her gently back.

"It's alright. Ted and Dora are at the hospital now. But you've taken quite a few curses yourself."

"Yeah. Yeah, Bellatrix—"

"She knows," hissed Julius from her chest, startling her. "I told Miss Andromeda everything."

"Your necklace is very useful," Andromeda told her, eyes glimmering. "And surprisingly sweet. He told me you'd be alright, and here you are!"

"I helped to stop you from dying." Julius flicked his silver tongue out. "You're welcome."

"How—"

"I told you," he said, "we protect members of the Black family. I kept you alive."

It was bizarre and Aurora was sure she did not have the emotional or mental capacity to try and work that one out right now. Her head was still trying to muddle through the information about Dora and her father, and that someone, someone Andromeda did not yet want to name, had not made it through the events in the Ministry.

"I want to go see my dad—" Aurora started, trying to sit up, but was cut off by a burst of sharp, hot pain that seated right through her chest, like it was cracking her ribs in half. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as the pain travelled upwards and the world clouded in the wake of it.

"The nurse said you will have to rest," Andromeda told her. Aurora could hear the frown in her voice.

"I want—"

"Aurora. Rest." There was a note of caution in her voice, and so Aurora forced herself to lie back down, wincing in pain as she did so and felt another burst of heat flare, this time slicing across her neck.

"But I need to — what happened — and Umbridge — did I hear Fudge — the Dark Lord —"

"He's back," Andromeda said, a slight quaver in her voice. "You-Know-Who. The Minister is expected to resign soon, over his poor handling — the Progressive faction have moved quickly to push him, and they… Well, they have the emotional power behind them, now, too. Professor Umbridge will likely be investigated, too, soon." And she had the perfect documents to ensure they were both taken down. At least she could take a vindictive pleasure in that. "You should know. Lord MacMillan — your friend Leah's father — went there, when she told him what happened last night. Apparently, he and a few of the rest of his faction were just waiting for the word to take the opportunity and seize power, and fight You-Know-Who in earnest and this seemed like the time." She took in a long and heavy sigh, and Aurora knew, she knew what she was going to say and what had yet been unsaid and she could already feel the crack of grief her friend was surely feeling. "But Lord MacMillan was caught in the crossfire. He was killed by Lord Nott."

Aurora felt her whole world shrink down in seconds. She could picture Leah, alone and terrified and thinking she had done the right thing, only to cause her own father's death.

"Hestia Jones," Andromeda continued with caution in her voice, "was also killed."

At that, Aurora felt the same sharp jolt that she had felt upon hearing the truth of her own mother's death for the first time. Confusion, a sense of empty loss, a grief she should have felt in another life but did not know what to do with.

"Oh," was all she could say, and it wasn't enough and it wasn't right, but she didn't know how to perform the emotions she was expected to, other than the bitter regret. "I'm… I'm sorry." She didn't know why she was apologising to Andromeda. Andromeda barely knew Hestia. But it felt like what she was meant to say, even though she herself knew how useless hearing those words made one feel. "How's — how's Leah?"

"She's been taken home, of course, early this morning. Madam Pomfrey gave her the all clear — she wasn't too badly injured."

But this would hurt more than any physical injury. Aurora took in a steadying breath, tears burning her eyes. "She's going to hate me."

"No, that's not—"

"I should never have let anybody else get involved. I should never have walked into that trap, I — I put so, so many people in danger."

"You thought you were doing the right thing," Andromeda whispered, placing a hand over hers. "This is war, Aurora."

It shouldn't be. It wasn't fair, she wanted to scream — how could her decisions be justified by the banner of war, her consequences be washed away like that? "It's not right," she whispered back. "It's — Hestia didn't deserve to die. Lord MacMillan didn't deserve to die, all these people don't deserve to have to deal with grieving them! Because of something I did—"

"Aurora, it's not your fault—"

"No, it's not — it's Potter and it's the Dark Lord and it's Umbridge and Bellatrix but — but I didn't stop it! No one would let me stop it and I didn't — I couldn't control it, Andromeda. I didn't know what to do, and I should have, but I couldn't, and — and I don't know what to do now either, I don't think I can do anything! I've got — I've got to make sure Umbridge is put out of power, and Fidge, and I can, I have all this information I — but isn't it useless anyway, if — if everyone else got there before me, if people have died because of them anyway and I — I didn't do enough to stop it from happening?"

"Aurora," Andromeda said carefully, voice teetering between warning and worried. "It was never your responsibility to do that."

"But it is! I'm Lady Black, I have duties—"

"You're sixteen."

"That doesn't matter! I'm not allowed to be sixteen!" Pain lanced across her chest again and she let out a startled, high gasp, leaning back against her pillows.

"Aurora, please, relax."

"How can I possibly—"

"None of this is supposed to rest on your shoulders, alright?" Andromeda rubbed her thumb soothingly over Aurora's hand. "As for Umbridge… If you have information that will assist the Assembly investigation, I'm sure we can arrange for it to be sent on. It won't go to waste."

"I've been stupid," she said, hating the tears that threatened her as she spoke, "I am so, so stupid."

"You are not, honey. What makes you say that?"

"Everything! I'm useless, I — I trusted Pansy and I shouldn't have, and I was too much of a coward to go after Umbridge earlier and to stand up to her when I should have, and I just…" The sob that broke from her chest met the barrier of pain that seemed to have formed around it, and she let out a cry.

Andromeda grabbed her shoulders carefully, and called, "Madam Pomfrey! I think Aurora is ready for some potions now."

"No," she said, trying to shake her head and then stopping; doing so made it feel like she had pulled every muscle in her neck and almost snapped the back of her head clean off. "No, I'm — I'm fine. I'm… Bellatrix used the Transmogrifian Curse on me again, I think that's why…"

"It is," Madam Pomfrey's voice said assertively, as she brushed the curtains aside. "And that is certainly not what I'd call fine." As she swept over, Aurora just caught a glimpse of two figures across the room, one in a hospital bed and the other at the chair next to him. Theo and Harry, engaged in a conversation that seemed almost civil.

"Is Theo alright? And Potter? They're in here too—"

"They're fine. Just resting, like most of the other students caught up in the Ministry. The Nott and Oliphant boys are merely making nuisances of themselves, hanging about, pretending to be far more injured than they are just so they can stay with their friends a little longer."

"And Gwen—"

"She'll be alright. She's awake, but she's taken a lot of damage. She will recover. And the MacMillan girl is with her family — she's alright, physically, at least."

Leah. Aurora's heart came to a stop again and all her guilt was wrenched up. "I have to speak to her, I have to apologise—"

"You will not move from this bed until I tell you to," Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "As for apologies, I think that can wait, if they need to be made at all. Perhaps after a few more Calming Draughts. Open up."

Aurora glared at the red vial Madam Pomfrey held to her lips. When she reached out to take it, her shoulder ached. Annoyed, Aurora parted her lips, and let the nurse pour the liquid down her throat, as if she were a child incapable of doing so herself. It tasted like strawberry and meringues, to her relief, but the next potion, clear and bubbly, was both sour and somehow empty of taste, and she had to try hard not to throw it up again.

"Thanks," she said grudgingly.

Madam Pomfrey sighed and fixed her with a stern look. "I'm sure once the pain-relief potion kicks in, your attitude might improve a little too. That said…" Her gaze flicked to Andromeda. "I've received word from St. Mungo's Hospital." Aurora's heart picked up. "Your cousin, Nymphadora—" Aurora cringed at hearing the name "—is improving well and should be discharged tomorrow."

"Oh, good," Andromeda said faintly, her relief palpable.

"So she's going to be alright?" Aurora demanded, and Pomfrey nodded. "And — and my father, too?"

Madam Pomfrey's face fell. "I don't have an update on that situation yet. But, if you co-operate on taking your potions, I will hopefully have you discharged soon to see him — and if not, Professor Dumbledore and I are already looking into having you moved to the hospital, if necessary, to be closer."

So they did not think he would be improving any time soon, then. Her chest tightened. What if he didn't improve at all? She had no idea how long he had been under torture, and he had spent so much time fighting and exacerbating every pain, wearing himself out. But she didn't want to think about the possibility of her father being like Neville's parents, so alone in his own mind. He had seemed lucid when he was with her. He had to be alright, she had to believe it, had to force herself to believe that fate did not have death in store for him, that she had avoided disaster. Because if not, then what was it all for?

"Do you think I'll get out soon?" Aurora asked Madam Pomfrey. "So I can see him?"

"I'm really not sure, dear," Pomfrey said, a sympathetic frown creasing her forehead. "There are many symptoms which can be caused by the sort of curse I believe was put on you. But, hopefully, if I can locate the touch points of the curse, where it affects your pain, I will be able to help quickly. In the meantime, you take your medications."

"Can I see my friends? I know Andromeda said most of them are alright but — I have to make sure!"

"I ought to go and see Dora soon, anyway," Andromeda told her, "let her and Ted know you're awake. If you're alright with me going?" Aurora nodded.

"Can you see my dad, too? Just speak to him, even if he doesn't know."

Andromeda gave her a soft, pitying look and patted her hand. "Of course, darling. He'll be alright — you'll see. He's a fighter, your dad."

Everyone in the Order was. Everyone who died in war was. Aurora did not find those words in the least bit reassuring.

But she was too tired to protest. She let Madam Pomfrey run her diagnostics and Andromeda talk about everything Dora had told them, before Andromeda had had to come for Aurora, here — how the Order had been notified by Kreacher, who was worried for Aurora, and, it transpired, remorseful for the part he played. He had known, apparently, of the plan. He had wanted her father dead, so she could be reconciled to the family — as if she would ever allow it, as if he didn't know that that would break her. When the Order had arrived, they realised they were not alone; Leah MacMillan, scared and knowing that the Progressive Faction and their supporters in the Auror Office wanted a chance to bring the war they were sure was brewing out into the open, and to expose the Fudge administration's misconduct, had gotten on a Floo call to her father and told him everything. He had rallied his faction and stormed in and now, in the aftermath, they were planning to seize control of both the Assembly and the Ministry.

Aurora barely managed to comprehend any of this. The pain in her chest seemed to warp and change and wrap around her throat like a pair of strangling hands. It made her head buzz, and the world fade. All she could think was pain and fear, worrying for her father, feeling the burn of guilt and shame inside of her. She knew Potter was in this room; she kept thinking, how easily she had been willing to sacrifice him, for her father, and the fear and shame she had felt when she saw him, writhing in pain on the floor, soul twisted around himself, thinking he was going to die, and it would be her fault for being so, so callous.

When Andromeda left, Aurora had little energy to bid her a proper goodbye. But she seemed to understand this, tucking her hair behind her ear with a soft smile. "I'll be back this evening, darling," Andromeda told her, with a gentle, warm hand on her cheek. "Tell Madam Pomfrey to send for me if you need me, alright? I'll come as soon as I can."

Aurora merely nodded, watching her retreat behind the curtains. There was barely a moment of hushed whispering before she was replaced by Theo, holding a wicker basket in his arms.

"Aurora," he said, slightly breathless, relief evident on his face as he hurried to the chair at her bedside, "they said you were alright, but I didn't... I was so worried." He was pale, dark circles beneath his eyes.

Aurora wanted to reach out and hug him, but she could not bring herself to move yet. Instead, she merely gave a small smile and told him, "I got cursed. Again. It kind of hurts to move. A lot."

Theo say his basket down and leaned forward, cupping her cheek with his hand. He was so warm, and his touch so welcoming, that Aurora finally managed to relax into its familiarity, wishing that she could feel it forever. "I know. Potter told me."

"You've been talking to Potter?" She grimaced. "That'll have gone well."

Theo shrugged. "Better than expected, actually. He seems a lot more reasonable with me now. Seems to have figured out we're... You know."

But the image of Theo's father swam back into her head. He knew, too, she was sure that he did. "Your father—"

"He's back in Azkaban. They took my grandfather with him." There was a stiffness to his words, like he didn't quite know what to make of them or how to spin them from his lips. Aurora couldn't blame him. "The Ministry and Dumbledore are trying to figure out what to do with me and my siblings, but as they're all at each other's throats, and Dumbledore isn't exactly welcome in our family affairs... Well, who knows what will happen."

"That isn't..." Her words stuck in her throat. Maybe it didn't matter now. Maybe they were safe. But she couldn't truly bring herself to believe it. If the Death Eaters could break out of Azkaban once, then they could certainly do it again. She did not want to be a target of any more of them. "What — What's in the basket?"

"Your favourite book," Theo said simply, seeming surprised by her change of subject, and he brought out a copy of Jane Austen's Persuasion. Aurora managed a smile, pleased with the choice. "Also, pancakes." She narrowed her eyes. "With bananas and strawberries."

"Ah. Thank you."

"Also some sandwiches and scones, but that's a bit boring."

"Healthier."

"You're injured, not ill," Theo reminded her, "you can eat what you want."

This, she did not have the heart to argue with. It would only be for the sake of arguing, anyway. She sat up, wincing at the pain that shot through her ribs. Theo darted forwards, putting a hand out to stop her. "Be careful!" he chided.

"I am careful," she shot back, though white pain laced through her head. "It's fine."

"Sit back," Theo told her, already puffing up her pillows for her. Aurora hid a smile — the act was, she reluctantly admitted, rather endearing. "How are you feeling?"

"You tell me." Theo raised his eyebrows. "I've been duelled, cursed, strangled, and on top of it, I wrote a History exam yesterday."

His laugh was soft, but nervous. He shifted closer, a hand trailing at the edge of the bed, like he wasn't sure if he should reach out to her or not. "Really, though."

She shrugged, and looked away. "I don't know. I haven't been conscious in a while, it seems."

"Madam Pomfrey said she wasn't allowed to tell me anything more about what happened — as if I wasn't even there myself — but I think... Potter said your father mentioned you'd been cursed, and he saw Bellatrix was after you, and he saw you do some sort of strange magic. He described it like you'd wrapped yourself in shadows." There was something almost suspicious in his gaze, and probing, and it made the back of her neck prickle, like she was being judged.

"I don't really know what I did," she told him. "At any point to be honest, I — I just felt it. I managed to protect myself, but I couldn't control it. Bellatrix... I don't know. And then I thought Harry was dying and I couldn't let that happen. But I — I don't have a wand, now." The thought occurred to her later than it should have, penetretating the thick mist in her head. "Bellatrix snapped it."

Theodore's hand flexed, itching to be closer to hers. "You'll get a new wand from Ollivander's, though, I'm sure. I'm sure Dumbledore can try and speed up the process for you if you need it."

"It won't be my wand," she muttered. That wand, she had chosen with Lucretia; it was the same sort of wood as Draco, she had loved knowing that they had that bond between them. But that was no more.

She shifted and winced, certain her rib was not meant to be there. "Merlin, I'm exhausted. So, my dad — he's in St. Mungo's?"

Theo nodded. "But he'll be alright. I overheard Pomfrey telling Potter that they'll arrange for him to visit once he's better and ready to leave here. But Aurora, what on earth happened? Before Leah and I got there."

"It was a trap. Which... I knew. But I thought it was worth it." Her cheeks burned with shame and she looked away from him, unable to look him in the eye. "I could've gotten so many people killed."

"Your dad was in danger. I don't think anyone can blame you for trying to save him."

"I should never have let anybody else come with me, though, or gotten the Order involved — Hestia Jones is dead, Leah's father is dead, Gwen's hurt, and so — so many people are hurt."

"That's not your fault."

"Then whose is it? The more people get involved, the more dangerous and messy things get and I know that, and I still let it happen, and I don't even understand what really happened last night, Theo! I just — I just know it was bad. Other people always ruin things. And I made that call to let that happen.

"No one else should have been there, I shouldn't have... It — it was stupid. I was stupid." angry sob worked its way out of her, and she gestured hopelessly around herself. "This is all my fault.

"I can't do this anymore. I don't know who I am and I don't know what I want and… I just want to be able to breathe. To not live in fear. But I've brought this upon myself, I got too cocky, I let things spiral out of control because I couldn't relinquish a tiny bit of control myself and — and we all almost died. My dad and Dora almost died and it would have been my fault."

"No," he said softly, "no, it wouldn't—"

"Yes, it would. Maybe not entirely, but… I'm not as strong as I thought I was. I'm not as clever, not as capable. And it's my own fault for getting ahead of myself, thinking I can manage every detail of everyone around me, for thinking that I should!"

"Aurora." Theo's voice was gentle and melodic. His hand was soft on hers, warm, but holding her with a strength that steadied her, somehow. "It's alright. It's going to be alright."

"How can it be? My life is falling apart and it's going to keep falling apart. And there's nothing I can really do. Turns out I'm not all that important, or powerful. I'm not exceptional in any way. I'm just… A scared little girl." She shivered as she echoed Bellatrix's words. "Who's going to get herself killed."

Somehow, imperceptibly, Theo had gotten closer. Somehow, he was sitting by her and his arms around her and she was leaning on his shoulder, letting tears fall from her eyes and sobs tear from her throat. Theo let her cry, and let all her emotions run out of her. "It's alright," he kept saying softly. "I promise it'll be alright."

It was a false promise and they both knew it, knew the futility of saying such things. "I can't do this," she told him. "I can't be this person anymore."

His thumb stroked over her shoulder, and his lips were close to her ear as he whispered, "Be whoever you want to be. I've got your back."

"You shouldn't. Leah — Leah's dad... Have you spoken to her?" Theo shook his head, staring at the floor.

"I don't think she particularly wants to see me right now. I can't exactly blame her for that."

"I shouldn't have..."

"It was Leah who told her father. He and all the Progressives went there of their own volition." He leaned in, tugging her closer. "It's not your fault, Aurora."

"It should have been me," she muttered, "if anyone was going to die last night, it should have been me."

"Don't say that." His voice came out in a shocked snap, and Aurora leaned back, looking him in the eye. "You think anyone wants that?"

"I think Bellatrix Lestrange—"

"I meant anybody sane." He took ahold of her shoulders, eyes blazing. "Aurora, you did what you could last night. You tried, at every turn, to protect other people."

"I didn't," she whispered. "I didn't try to stay and fight, I just — I just ran away, Theo. I thought as long as I was fine and my father was fine and Gwen and Robin were fine — I thought I didn't care about the others. I thought they didn't matter and then I realised they did, and I — I was selfish."

"That does not have anything to do with Lord MacMillan."

"It's the principle, Theo. I..." All the words in the world could not adequately express the feeling she was just beginning to understand in her chest. That emptiness of soul, that curdling guilt, the unwelcome revelation that perhaps, she shouldn't really like herself, that maybe, she wasn't such a good person as she wanted to believe. "I don't want to be like this." Her voice came out so small she was surprised he could hear it.

"Who you are is perfectly fine, Aurora."

"No," she said, unable to look him in the eye. "It's not. I — I need to be better. Braver. Bolder. I... I can't be this forever. I'm stuck and I'm scared and — and I can't."

He squeezed her hand tightly, and though it was clear he did not understand, she allowed to appreciate for now, the way he held her carefully, looked at her reverently, and she let herself relax, knowing he was there, wishing that he could be here forever.

Madam Pomfrey finally banished Theo and Robin from the wing at nine o'clock, after they had successfully managed to shove Aurora and Gwen's beds together so they could share the fruit baskets Sally-Anne Perks had sent up and talk over the events of the evening before. "You'll have to be separated later," Pomfrey warned them sternly, watching the doorway carefully. "I won't have you chit chatting at night when you and everybody else needs to be getting their sleep."

But then she sighed and said, "You have half an hour," and disappeared behind a curtain, and Aurora managed a smile as she turned to Gwen.

"So, we're both somehow alive."

Gwen sighed. "Yeah, apparently. I didn't think I'd have a brush with death so early in life. It's a bit thrilling."

"I thought you were dying," Aurora told her blandly, pulling the words over a twisting heart. "You felt like it."

"It did hurt. Still does, a bit, but." She shifted, sitting up, and propped her chin on her hand. "How much do you remember? It all went a bit... Blurry, for me. I think that mad witch — Bellatrix, was that her? — called me a mudblood when she tried to kill me." Aurora sucked in a breath. "I hadn't — everytime someone calls me that, I know what they mean, and I hate it, and I understand the insult, but — I've never been scared of hearing it like that before. 'Til then."

"I know," Aurora said softly. "I know, it's..." Unfathomable. Impossible. "I'm so sorry for dragging you into that. I should never have let it happen."

"We pushed you into it," Gwen said, not meeting her eyes. "All of us. And I — I'd rather we fought together and both survived, than I stayed out of it and you..."

Aurora swallowed tightly, and reached out her hand to Gwen, who took it. Their entwined fingers hung between their two beds. "I am really grateful," Aurora told her, "but you really, really scared me. I thought you were dying, I really did. I think I thought that of most people — I was a bit panicked — but... I don't know what I'd do without you."

Gwen grinned at her sideways, wincing visibly as she turned her head. "Love you too, Aurora."

Aurora rolled her eyes, but grinned. "Yeah, I do. And as for what happened — I haven't really got a clue. An awful lot of running, and fighting, and then — well, Bellatrix had me and I could feel this... Thing, inside of me. You know, how I have the necklace?" Gwen nodded. "Yeah. It — Julius — protects me, and I could feel this other spirit inside me, another ancestor. It fought, for me, and I don't know how and I don't think I could control it, not really, but it was there."

Gwen gave her a contemplative look, piercing in the silence. And then with a small, confused sigh, she said, "I think I felt it, too." Aurora frowned, and she continued, "Like something had shifted. That room felt different the second time we went in. That archway spoke, almost. I could feel the magic in the air, like you always talk about, feeling cursed. It was like the first time I went into Diagon Alley and I could feel the change in the air, and the energy, y'know? Like, it was darker and closer, almost."

"Like you could feel it pulling at your skin." Aurora met Gwen's eye, and a thread of understanding pulled taut between them.

"It's like on a damp day — you know, that drizzly sort of rain, that's not really rain, it's just like a very, very wet sky? And you can just feel it on your skin and in your hair..."

"I know." She could feel it even now, a twisted, bitter stain upon her. "Do you — did — when you say you heard the veil speak..."

"I didn't recognise the voices," Gwen said, "but I felt like I knew them, somehow. They weren't coherent, they were just familiar." She shivered. "I dunno. Maybe it was my bio parents. Maybe they were wizards — guess I'll never know, anyway."

"Maybe." Aurora squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. It must have been... Strange."

"Yeah." She frowned and cleared her throat. "But at least I'm not in Leah's position."

"I know," Aurora said, and didn't know what else to say. "I — I can't quite believe it. I didn't even know he was coming, or that she wanted to contact him or — I didn't want anyone else involved."

"I don't think Leah particularly cared what you wanted," Gwen said. "But, God, Robin said she's a mess. I mean, anyone would be, but — it feels so shit that we're here, and she's losing her mind at home. All I want's to go see her and help her and just give her the biggest hug in the world."

"Me too," Aurora said, though her words felt somehow hollow in the wake of Gwen's. "I just — I don't know if I can face her."

Gwen turned to her, frown deepened. "Maybe not. But I think she'd want to hear from you. Or at least see you doing something."

Doing something. Doing what? What could possibly repair the wound of such grief?

"Anyway," Gwen continued, "we're sending flowers."

"Of course. I'll help." Flowers, she knew, were pretty, but were of little real comfort. She was sure she would never be able to smell lilies without remembering the ugly too-bright summer following Arcturus' death. "You — you are okay, aren't you? I mean, you're in hospital, but... A lot happened."

Gwen took a moment before replying. "I'm not sure I can be okay, to be honest. I — nothing's going to be okay for a long time. Everything's going to change."

"Everything," Aurora said, and she thought back to Theo, and to Pansy, and felt like it was going to split her heart in two. "All we can do is try to make it change for the better."