Her recent letters to her aunt and Uncle weren't gaining replies. She wrote to Draco's mother asking if she knew anything, because no one was giving her any information on the progression of the dragon pox, and she was scared of what that meant. Cygnus Black, Draco's grandfather, died in the middle of January and he disappeared for a weekend and came back acting like nothing had happened at all. Cassiopeia Black, Aurora's great-great aunt died at the end of the month. She could feel the death happening. It felt like when Arcturus was dying. No one wanted to tell her the truth but she knew the truth and she could feel it unravelling.
The letter came at the beginning of February. The funeral was meant to be held at the family home and Lucretia and Ignatius would be buried together at the Black tomb. The Prewetts protested, but it had been Lucretia's wish, and Ignatius supported it.
Aurora received a letter from Gringotts the very next day. As the last of the Blacks in name (or at least, of those who weren't imprisoned) she had come into a fortune she did not want. And she was head of the House now. As it happened, she also inherited several houses. She didn't know quite why Narcissa Malfoy hadn't been named head, but apparently it was because she had married, and when she had done so, she became a part fully of the Malfoys. If she'd inherited the Black House, then it would have been in the control of the Malfoys. They were too new money, though they had an awful lot of it. The Black estate must remain with someone who bore its name.
And that was her.
She sat slumped over the letter in her room, stunned into rare silence. Gwen watched her twitchily. "What does it say?"
Aurora shook her head numbly. Lucretia and Ignatius were dead. They'd just died. Maybe she'd known it was coming, some small part of her had felt it, but this was too soon. She was an orphan now, again. Would Narcissa take her in? She didn't want to live in the same house as Lucius Malfoy, but she had no other blood relatives. Maybe someone of her mother's family, wherever or whoever they were. She didn't even know her name to start searching with.
"Well," she said, swallowing. "Walburga and Orion's inheritances both went to me. Arcturus' went partly to me and partly to Lucretia. Cygnus Black's has gone partly to Narcissa Malfoy and mostly to me. As part of the Black estate, all of Cassiopeia Black's assets and wealth have reverted to me. And now Lucretia and Ignatius' estates have been inherited by me, too. And so has... Well, everything." She swallowed with a lump in her throat as her eyes brimmed with tears. The pain and fear threatened to split her chest in two. "I'm the last of the Blacks." She wiped tears from her cheeks. Don't cry. That was always the unofficial Black family motto — apart from toujours pur. Something she wasn't sure she could be, even when they needed her. "In name, at least."
She didn't know what she'd expected Gwen to say. "I'm sorry." She hadn't expected that.
"Yes, well." She combed through her hair, slammed the letter in a drawer, and dabbed the tears from her eyes. "These things happen."
"It doesn't mean they're alright."
"It's life," Aurora said sharply. "People die, that's just what happens. It's fine." She didn't want Gwen to see her crying. She didn't want anyone to see that, and she was determined not to cry. "I'm going for a walk."
Pulling on her boots, she strode out of the room without another word. It was too much. All of it was just too much. Aurora pressed her lips together tightly, determined not to cry. She had no one now, no one, no family except the Malfoys and her murderous, Death Eater, Blood Traitor, stupid father. She swept through the common room and slammed the door behind her, storming through the dungeons.
"Miss Black." She didn't respond to the name. She hated her name coming from his mouth and right now she hated her name regardless. She didn't want it, not when she was the only one. "Black! Do not ignore me!"
She whirled around, heart pounding furiously. "What?"
Snape's lip curled in dislike. "Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your situation. Come into my office."
"No."
"Black." His eyes flashed. "In."
She followed him grudgingly. At least now maybe she could get some of her awful anger out. She spoke with a strained and brittle politeness. "What is it, sir?"
"You have been granted special permission to leave the school to attend the funeral of your aunt and uncle. However, I believe it also falls to you to organise it, at least on your aunt's behalf."
She felt the colour drain from her face. She hadn't even thought of that. She almost said, "I can't," but there was no way she was going to say that.
"Can I have this conversation with someone else?" she asked as politely as she could.
Snape sneered. "As your Head of House, this is a matter for me to contend with." Contend with. She hated the way he phrased it.
"I would rather someone else," she said back, echoing his tone. She could hear her bitterness but she didn't care.
"Believe me, Black," Snape said in disgust, "the feeling is mutual."
She glared at him as fiercely as she had ever glared at anyone. "Then why are you talking to me? I know you hated my father, you hate my whole family and you hate me, it's all you ever talk about!" Her hand had gone to her wand, where it trembled. "This does not involve you, Professor."
"I, most unfortunately, have a duty of care."
"And you are so caring, sir!" She'd taken her wand out, clasping out furiously.
"Lower your wand," he said, dangerously quiet.
"Don't speak to me like that."
"Detention, Black."
"I don't care!"
"Lower your wand!"
"No!"
"Expelliarmus!" Her wand went flying out of her hand and she forgot what to do with her body. She crumpled against the wall, and her throat felt raw as she screamed things she couldn't even remember learning how to say.
At some point, Snape had ended up shouting back, face white and furious. "You are just like your father! Arrogant and dangerous! You ought to be ashamed!"
"Don't talk about my father! Don't talk about my family! Don't you even dare!"
She launched herself across the desk and grabbed her wand from his hand, shaking with hatred and fury and a grief she still didn't know how to feel. "Please, just leave me alone!"
She stormed from the room. She didn't care what he did or said. She hated him. She hated all of this. She hated it so much she felt like her entire body was going to combust, and she couldn't stop moving, thrusting her arm out to slam against a wall as she thundered down the corridors. Students jumped out of her way as she passed, not even knowing where she was going as she wound up and down all of the castle's many staircases, eventually coming out of the castle into the grounds where the cold night kissed her skin. It shocked her and she gasped, trying to drown in the night air.
She started running, sure that if she stayed in one position for too long then she'd fall apart. She didn't have a destination, but she found herself running down the slope in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. This was wrong. It was so wrong. She wanted to scream and cry and do everything a Black shouldn't do. She couldn't do that. She came across a pumpkin patch and ran right through it, kicking the fence and whirling around to gasp, trembling in the cold. There was a small hut in front of her, from which a giant man emerged.
"Oi!" he bellowed. "Who's there?"
She shuddered. She couldn't even say her name. Tears blurred her vision as she fell to the ground, shaking. What was she meant to do? To say? When Arcturus had died, she'd had people around her, people who understood and cared. But she felt alone. She was alone. The giant man came over to her, his giant shadow drowning her. "You a student?" She nodded, feeling like she was going to be sick. "What's yer name?"
It took her a while to speak. "Au-Au-Aurora." She forced the surname out. "Black."
The man's hand closed around her arm and he hauled her to her feet. "Yeah," he said gruffly, "Dumbledore told me about yeh. Come on, it's warm inside."
"No," she said, wrenching out of his grasp. "No, no. I need to get back to the castle. I - I - I-" She broke off, crying again, and wiped tears furiously from her cheeks. "I hate this!"
"I know, lass," the giant man said, steering her inside his little hut. There were three blurry figures inside — Potter, Weasley and Granger. Aurora immediately went to run out again, to be anywhere except with those three, especially when she was in this sort of state. "Clear out, you lot."
"Hagrid, what—"
"Go on, off wi ye. It's almost curfew anyway."
The three of them scurried off like good little Gryffindors. Aurora was eased into a massive armchair. The man who was Hagrid had a massive dog that sat firmly on Aurora's feet. He handed her a massive mug of tea that she couldn't drink because she thought she'd be sick if she tried to.
"They're dead," she whispered hollowly, finally.
"I know." She met Hagrid's eyes. "I lost me dad when I was your age."
"I've already lost my father." She shook her head. "I don't want him anyway." Stupid, reckless, murderous, Blood Traitor, Death Eater. Her lip wobbled and she almost started crying again.
"But we always want family." Hagrid nodded sadly to her and clapped a ginormous hand on her shoulder. "Ye don't have ter talk."
"Good." She winced. "I shouted at Professor Snape. I threatened him. Oh, Merlin, I'm going to be in so much trouble."
"Don't worry about that," Hagrid said. "I'll talk ter Dumbledore for yeh."
She stared at him, seeing him properly for the first time. He had small, black beady eyes, wore a moleskin coat, and had wild tangles of brown hair and a beard. He was also at least ten feet tall, she thought. He was a very small giant, and a very kind one. "Why are you being nice to me?" she asked bitterly.
He looked taken aback. "Well, I couldn't very well leave yeh ter freeze out there." His face softened. "I know what yeh're going through, Aurora." It was a sort of comfort that he said Aurora, and not Black. "Yeh're not alone."
"Yes I am."
"Yeh're not," Hagrid said fiercely. "Who're your friends?"
"Draco Malfoy. Pansy Parkinson." She noticed Hagrid's less than pleased face, but why should he judge her friendships? She'd met him five minutes ago. "Daphne Greengrass, I think. Maybe Gwendolyn Tearston." That was it really. She felt so suddenly lonely. None of them understood. None of them had lost near every member of their family. None of them were the last of their name.
She knew only one other person in her position and she wasn't going to talk to Harry bloody Potter about her emotions. Aurora wiped tears from her eyes so that they wouldn't splash into the tea. Crying over a cup of tea. She sniffled and stood up, heaving Hagrid's massive dog off of her feet. "I'm sorry for intruding," she said as politely and evenly as she could. "I can tell you were meant to have a lovely evening."
"Yeh don't have ter go."
"No, I want to. I ought to get back to my common room before I get in trouble for being out of bed." She swallowed. "Thank you, though, Hagrid."
He still looked troubled. "I'll walk yeh up ter the castle. Yeh shouldn't be out on yer own."
She let Hagrid escort her back up to Hogwarts Castle, where she left him with a wobbly smile and headed down to the dungeons. Draco was sat in the mostly empty common room, waiting on her. "Aurora," he said immediately as she got in. "Aurora, Mother just wrote me a letter and told me everything. I'm so sorry."
She didn't cry. She wouldn't. But she let him hug her. It was stiff and awkward because neither of them were very used to hugs, but they managed. She sniffed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I'm the only one left now. They — I'm meant to — to plan the f-funeral." She hated how she stuttered.
"I'll talk to Mother about it," he promised. "If I can then I'll make sure you can stay with us, you're not being taken to some random wizard house. Imagine if they gave you to the Weasleys." She laughed wetly, weakly.
"That would be terrible."
Draco patted her shoulder and stepped back, smiling awkwardly. "I, um, I've got chocolate if you want some. And we can play wizard's chess or gobstones."
He motioned to the table behind him and Aurora could have cried again right then and there. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Thanks."
They stayed up late that night, playing chess for hours as the common room emptied. Aurora was still too angry and bitter and sad to sleep, and Draco very politely stayed awake with her. He didn't let her win, which was good, because she beat him anyway. It was alright for a while but when she got to bed all she could think about was her family, and the funeral, and the empty ache in her chest. She didn't know where she was going now. She didn't know how she could go any further. But she was still a Black.
Blacks didn't cry. Blacks didn't whine. Blacks didn't make a fuss, or make a scene. Blacks did as they were told. She wanted to ask about her father, suddenly. She wanted to know, because he was the only thing left. Even if she hated him, so did everyone else in the family.
But Aurora didn't ask about her father. And she didn't talk about him either. So she wouldn't, she told herself. She'd forget it. She was a Black, after all. They endured.
The funeral was held a week and a half later on a suitably cold and rainy day. Gwendolyn had said she'd come if Aurora wanted her to be there, but Aurora didn't want anyone to be there, not even Draco and Pansy.
It was a quiet occasion anyway, and a somber one. There weren't exactly many Blacks left. Narcissa came, but not her husband. A brown haired woman with Aurora's nose was there, too, along with her sandy haired husband and an older teen Aurora didn't know from Hogwarts, who had bright turquoise hair. The two women looked similar enough to be sisters, but they barely even looked at each other.
There weren't that many Prewetts either, but Aurora had been in contact with Molly Weasley who had organised the funeral for Ignatius and Lucretia, because Aurora knew there was no way she could. She hadn't been sure initially, but she knew when she saw the brilliant red hair and the kind crinkle of the woman's eyes that Molly Weasley was the mother of the Weasleys she knew - Ron and the twins. She had her balding, similarly ginger husband with her, as well as a ginger girl younger than Aurora and a tall boy who might have been a young man, with long hair held in a pony tail.
"You must be Aurora," she said quietly in the dark grey graveyard. "I'm Molly, dear."
Aurora nodded silently. She had been quiet for days now, wallowing in the embarrassment of her earlier outburst. Weasley had seen, and Potter and Granger, and though none of them had mentioned it, she hated the fact they knew how she'd reacted. But she forced herself to speak to Molly Weasley. "Thank you, for organising today."
"Of course," Molly said kindly. "Ignatius spoke of you often, you know."
"Really?" She blinked in surprise.
"Yes. He and Lucretia could never have children, but he was overjoyed to have any time with you at all." Molly smiled kindly, but Aurora noticed the great sadness behind her eyes. She swallowed tightly, and remained silently. The priest would be arriving soon, to lower them into the ground and bury them with a heavy finality. She didn't want to watch but she knew she had to. After this maybe she'd never have to go to a funeral again. It wasn't like she had any other family to bury. "You'll be in second year at Hogwarts?"
"First," Aurora corrected quietly. "My birthday's in September, I only just missed the cut off."
"You'll know my son, then. Ron?"
Aurora nodded awkwardly. Weasley didn't like her, not that she'd given him much reason to. "Yeah, I know him. He's friends with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. I'm in Slytherin, though. So we don't really talk. I know Fred and George, too."
Molly raised her eyebrows. "Is that so? What have they done?"
"They got me out of a bit of trouble with a professor who doesn't like me much," Aurora said. "They're really nice."
Molly looked very glad, and slightly relieved, to hear so. "It's good to hear our boys are looking out for others," she said. "I'll tell them to keep an eye for you — Ron, too."
"Oh, no," Aurora said quickly, feeling slightly sick with embarrassment at the thought of Weasley looking out for her at the insistence of his mother. "That's alright, really. I'm alright."
Molly looked rather disapproving. "I'm not so sure that's true," she said, her voice gentle. "I know it must be awfully hard—"
"Yeah," Aurora said shortly. "It is awfully hard, thanks."
She felt bad being so short with Molly Weasley, but she didn't like the way she was looking at her like something to be pitied, like a little girl out of her depth. Blacks weren't pitied. And she refused to be.
The ceremony itself seemed to both drag on forever and never end. Aurora stood alone, watching the last of her family being lowered into the ground, and focused all her energy on trying not to cry. The rest of the world in the graveyard moved on, but she felt detached from it, stuck. With the exception of Narcissa, who didn't meet her eyes, she didn't know anyone here. She could tell they were all watching her, even the little Weasley girl. She wasn't going to cry in front of any of them.
When the time came, she pointed her wand at the twin coffins, and dirt slid over them, sealing them and their cold bodies into the ground forever. The wake was quiet and solemn, and so was Aurora. She sat in a corner on a chair and watched everybody else talking among themselves.
The brown haired woman and her turquoise haired daughter came over at one point. They both liked they were trying very hard to smile, but they couldn't quite manage it. "You're Aurora," the mother said, sitting down at her side. "I'm Andromeda Tonks."
Aurora blinked. That name wasn't familiar to her. "I'm sorry?"
"I'm your father's cousin." Her eyes darted to a lone blonde head of hair on the other side of the room. "Narcissa's sister."
"Oh." That was the one whose name had been burned off the Black family tapestry. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
Andromeda smiled thinly and her daughter muttered something under her breath. "Yes, the family never did mention me often. Lucretia was good to me, though. And I thought it prudent to be here. We Blacks seem rather poorly represented now."
"Yeah," Aurora muttered bitterly. "I'd noticed."
"I'm Tonks by the way," said the turquoise haired girl.
"Her name's Nymphadora."
"Tonks," Tonks said firmly. "Please."
Andromeda rolled her eyes fondly. "She's never been much a fan of her first name."
"It's pretentious," Tonks said, and Aurora found herself cracking a very small smile. The Blacks all had strange, pretentious names: Andromeda, Nymphadora, Narcissa, Bellatrix, Cygnus, Cassiopeia, Orion, Walburga, Regulus, Arcturus, Lucretia. Sirius. There was a hollow sort of pang in her chest. Compared to all the rest, Aurora's name was downright normal.
"Yeah."
"Dumbledore wrote to me about you," Andromeda said, and Aurora looked at her sharply, surprised.
"He did?"
"Yes. He appeared rather concerned by the lack of guardianship stated in Lucretia's will."
"Oh." She thought she knew where this was going. "I know I'm probably meant to go to a family member." She glanced up at Narcissa, who stood alone by a table with small glasses of win on it. "I had thought the Malfoys might..." She trailed off. If they were going to take her in then they would have said so. They would have offered to look after her at Christmas when she had no one else to go to during the holidays. Maybe if Draco kicked up enough of a fuss. But that wasn't the matter at hand. Dumbledore had written to the Tonkses about her? Why? "Or, you know, I am almost thirteen. I'd only be away from Hogwarts two months out of the year anyway, which isn't much."
Andromeda looked at her kindly. "You have an independence about you," she said. "Your father was the same." Her chest felt suddenly tight and Andromeda must have noticed, because she said, "I don't bring up Sirius to taunt you with, Aurora."
"I don't want to talk about him," Aurora said, like she'd said so many times before. "So, what did Dumbledore say to you?"
"Only that you were in Slytherin, a kind and intelligent girl who might benefit from a — stable family environment."
"As opposed to what?"
She glanced at Narcissa and she knew what Andromeda meant. There was no doubt that Lucius and Narcissa loved each other, but Aurora knew they had a lot to hide — not that the Blacks didn't, more that they were better at hiding, and actually cared to hide it — and Lucius could be cruel. Not to his family, but to many, many others, and he had always set her on edge rather, like he was constantly evaluating her. She had seen flashes of his cold anger over the years. Considering how badly Draco acted sometimes, Aurora couldn't imagine being in the same house as his father. They were Malfoys, not Blacks, and they had been the ones who served the Dark Lord, while the Blacks had stood alone. They didn't need anyone. She didn't need them.
"It is only an offer," Andromeda said, her voice a little more clipped. "If you would rather stay with someone else, I'd entirely understand. But Dumbledore wanted me to ask, and you are still family." She looked somewhat uncomfortable as she said, "Your father wanted me to take you in, initially."
"I don't really care what my father wanted, thanks," she said coldly, and got up.
She didn't know where she was going to go, but she started walking out of the small village hall where the wake was and over the cold, hard ground. She wasn't angry, or maybe she was, but not in that fiery, furious way she had been before. This was a numb, cold kind of anger, an anger that made her bitter and made her not want to scream or shout or break things in an instant. It made her want to tear things apart slowly, see the threads of life in a blade of grass unravel before her eyes. This anger spread like a web through her chest as she ducked behind a tree, sinking to her knees.
From here she could see most of the graveyard, a cold, frosty and grey expanse of grass and stone walls and headstones. A sort of fog hung over the whole place, an eerie grey mist. Somewhere between life and death.
She plucked a struggling daisy from the ground and plucked the petals off one by one with precision, missing out every second petal so she could return to it. She pulled the tiny leaves from the stem and then separated the stem from the flower head. The petals had made a tiny, sad white pile in the palm of her hand. She blew them away and they scattered into the air, pulled into the mist.
"You're not alone." She whipped around sharply. There was a man standing there, or someone that might have been a man once. She couldn't see his face, for it was shrouded into a smoky grey veil, and the rest of him was cloaked in black, but he did sound like a man. She could see skeletal, almost claw like hands extending from just underneath the sleeve of his cloak. He didn't feel normal, but he did definitely feel magic. His magic was ice cold like a body that had—
She cut her thoughts off there.
"Many have seen Death," he said. "Many have tasted it and yet lived." He wasn't close enough to touch her, but she felt a nail run down her cheek. Aurora stood up abruptly. "Many would run from him, and few would accept him."
"I'm sorry," Aurora said with perfect pureblood politeness. "Who are you?" She was scared — just a bit, mind, not much — but she wasn't going to show him that.
"I am Death."
"No you're not."
The man who called himself Death chuckled and Aurora knew that was who he really was. "You have thwarted me before, young Miss Black. Yet your family and your history is heavy with my blood." Something blue-black like ink flowed from his skeletal wrists and over his boney hands. It dripped onto the cold ground where it hissed and spat like acid. "Something about you has... Escaped me. Few have done that. Even fewer have done so of their own skill. There is a boy..." He chuckled dangerously. "But you don't want to hear of these things. You came here to be angry."
"I came here to get away from people," she said clippedly. "That includes you, whoever you are."
His words replayed in her mind. Something about her escaped him? "You shouldn't exist. Not by any accounts, any histories. You definitely shouldn't be alive. And yet you are. You have evaded Death without even knowing. But Death will come for you in the end."
"I thought you said you were Death." She tried to look at his eyes, but all she saw was two sunken sockets. "Haven't you come for me now?"
"Oh, no," Death crooned. This time he was definitely close enough to scrape his nail down her cheek. It stung, and Aurora was certain he had drawn blood. "Not yet. I want to see what happens. You are the Head of your House now, against all the odds. Fate, my friend — she is a curious creature." His voice was low and cold. "No one can evade Death forever, after all."
He retreated into the mist and he was gone. A watery sun broke through in the sky and Aurora wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she went back to the village hall, feeling more bitter but less alone. Inside, she played the perfect pureblood role. She made small talk with Narcissa who didn't so much as mention the matter of guardianship, she said hello to Molly Weasley's daughter Ginny who was worryingly interested in Harry Potter, and she said to Andromeda, "Thank you for your offer. I just need some time."
Andromeda smiled warily at her. "Speak to Dumbledore about it. The old man has some wisdom in him yet."
She didn't want to speak to Dumbledore. He summoned her to his office and she said she'd rather live alone than with someone who wasn't her family, and even if he tried, she had multiple houses and more gold than he'd ever seen, and there was no way a mere Headmaster would be able to contain her. He hadn't been happy, but he had let her go — for now. Aurora didn't delude herself into thinking that was the end of it.
"You could stay with us," Pansy offered, with a disdainful look at Draco. "If others won't take you in."
"I asked Father," Draco muttered. "But he said no, and I — I can't very well argue with my father."
Aurora wanted to say that he could, he so easily could, but she knew she shouldn't. So she said nothing. Days and weeks passed and she focused on her studies more than anything else, until the memory of the funeral started to fade. Aurora was half certain that the man called Death had been a hallucination. She didn't say much for a very long while until the day Draco came strutting into the common room looking far too pleased with himself. "What have you been up to?"
"Nothing much," he smirked. "Just put a Leg-Locker Curse on dear old Neville Longbottom."
She stared at him. What possible reason— "You attacked Longbottom?" He nodded with a smug smile. "Why?"
"Why? Why? Because he's a snot nosed little baby, that's why."
Her blood boiled unexpectedly. What had Longbottom done? Of all the Gryffindors, of all the people to choose to attack, why did it have to be Neville? He'd already suffered enough because of people like Draco, and people like her. Their own family — even after his parents had been the ones to care for her when her father ran off to flee the country and Ministry. "So you picked on him because he was an easy target?"
"Because I'm better than him."
"If you really were better than him then you wouldn't attack someone who couldn't even defend himself." She narrowed her eyes at Draco and let the next words, bitter and cold and harsher than she'd intended, slip from her mouth. "You're pathetic, Draco."
"I am not!"
"You shouldn't need to prove yourself to someone you really think is below you. To do so proves nothing except cruelty. And that you're a show off."
"As if you aren't?"
"No," she said quietly, "not like you are, anyway."
She got up. "Where are you going?" Draco demanded.
"Library. There's a book about Alchemy I need to check out."
She left wordlessly and made her way quickly through the castle in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. The corridors were quiet at this time, which meant she had no one to ask for directions — not that anyone would have given a Slytherin like her directions anyway. She didn't know what she thought she was doing, only that Draco was being ridiculous and had been acting as such for too long. And she wanted to do something that made her feel different. Neville Longbottom had lost his parents, and she couldn't help but think it was partially her fault for having been put there by her father. The Death Eaters came for the Aurors who had stood against their lord and for the daughter of the man who had betrayed the Aurors but unwittingly led his lord to his death. Neville had suffered enough, and Draco kept showing off in such vulgar and unnecessary ways. She didn't know why it got to her so much, but it did, and she was still angry.
She came across Longbottom struggling to hop along the corridor, face red and blotchy with tears and she felt anger prick her heart. What was the point? she wanted to ask Draco. "Neville?" She thought he'd more responsive to his forename and she was right. He turned around too fast, caught sight of her, whimpered and promptly fell backwards.
"G-g-get away!" he shouted feebly as she hurried down thecordidor towards her. "I - I - I mean it, B-Black!"
"Stop blubbering," she told him sharply, and grabbed his arm to pin him down. "I'm not going to hurt you. Did Draco do this?" He looked terrified. She narrowed her eyes. "Did he?" Neville nodded shakily. "Finite incantatem." The counter-spell worked well considering she'd rarely used it before. Neville moved his legs apart immediately and sat up sharply.
"W-w-what did you do that for?" he asked, staring at her. He had gone white, and she realised with a start that he was afraid of her. That wasn't what she'd wanted.
She hauled Neville to his feet. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be left like that."
Neville went red. "Not your fault," he mumbled.
"It's someone's though," she said, and offered him a weak smile. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen againSl
Neville looked like he couldn't believe what she was saying, and to be honest, Aurora couldn't either. She didn't have much of a reason to help him except that... He didn't have much of a family either. His parents had taken her in shortly, she knew, some time between the death of the Potters and when they were tortured by Death Eaters, by her own cousin Bellatrix. Maybe part of her felt responsible. Maybe part of her just didn't like seeing Draco showing off and hurting people and being stupid with his arrogance. Maybe she just didn't like people crying and reckoned someone ought to stop Neville from doing it so often, and knew that cursing him wasn't the way to go about it.
"Do you understand?" she asked sternly, and Neville nodded. "Good. Did he do anything else?" Neville shook his head and she sighed. "Alright. Do you want me to walk you back to your tower?"
He looked surprised by the offer, but he nodded anyway. It wasn't a long walk, but Aurora was glad she'd spared him from hopping the way there in the state he had been in. "Here," she said stiffly, not meeting his eyes. She took out a pink silk handkerchief. "Your cheeks are all covered in tears."
"Thanks," Neville muttered, taking it from her.
"Don't mention it," she said, and she really meant it. The last thing she wanted was a thank you from Neville Longbottom. They reached a portrait of a very fat lady in a pink dress at which point Neville stopped.
"Um," he said, "this is the Entrance."
"Oh, right." At least it was marked, unlike the Slytherin common room. "Well, have a good night, Longbottom." He held her handkerchief back out to her, but she shook her head. He'd blown his nose with that thing. "Keep it," she told him. He blushed, which she hated. "Night."
Draco wasn't happy about her intervention and he made sure she knew it. He sat with Pansy in Potions, leaving Aurora to be paired with Crabbe of all people, who melted their cauldron within five minutes. "You idiot," she scolded him, and he looked affronted.
"You didn't tell me not to."
"No, because you're meant to read the instructions!"
"What do we have here?" Snape asked, swooping down, and her face went red.
"My partner messed up our potion," she said clippedly. "I'm handling it, sir."
"This catastrophe cannot be saved." His eyes glinted. "You will both received zero marks today."
"We still have plenty of time to—"
"Quiet, Black," Snape snarled. "You may spend the remainder of the lesson slicing horned slugs. Crabbe, write out the instructions as many times over until we finish this class."
She was furious, of course, and was now not talking to Draco, Pansy, or Crabbe (not that she'd spoken to him very much before). It was only thanks to Gwendolyn that she attended the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match. "I want to see it," she said. "Hufflepuff are meant to be good, and Robin says that if they beat Gryffindor we'll still have a good chance at winning the Quidditch Cup this year."
Aurora really didn't fancy Hufflepuff's chances at beating Gryffindor when Potter had his stupid Nimbus Two Thousand and was the oh so brilliant boy who lived to be the youngest seeker in a century. But she didn't say that.
They found spots in the stands with a group of Hufflepuffs, far from Draco or Pansy. Robin Oliphant joined them, and handed Gwendolyn a thick pair of canary yellow gloves. "Stole them from Filch's office earlier when I was getting my watch back," he said with a lazy grin. "Peeves is quite a useful distraction when he isn't trying to dump a Pensieve on your head. Don't worry, they're not poisoned."
"Because you're the authority on poisons," Gwen huffed, but she pulled on the gloves anyway, and turned to Aurora. "You know Robin, right?"
"Oliphant," Aurora said stiffly, nodding at him. They'd never really spoken, but she'd always known he and Gwen got along and he seemed a sensible enough student. He was good at Potions, too, which she appreciated.
"Black." He looked down at the pitch. "Bit of a day for it, isn't it? Chilly. Still, at least it isn't a storm."
"Maybe if it was, Potter would get blown off his broom again," Aurora muttered, and Robin laughed.
"I forgot you didn't like him either."
"Robin says he's a show off," Gwen explained, shaking her head.
"You aren't wrong." Aurora smiled. If he thought the same of Potter as she did, maybe he wasn't quite so bad. "Why did Filch have your watch?"
"Oh, I charmed it to light up and scream anytime a Hufflepuff walked past." Robin smirked. "Course, he can't prove I did it. It could just be broken."
"Why did you do that?"
"I wanted to see if I could. Oh, look, that's them."
She didn't really need Robin to tell her. A massive roar had gone up from the crowd as the fourteen players stepped out onto the pitch. Potter looked even more cocky this time. "I really hope they lose," she said, and Gwendolyn nodded.
"Me too."
"Snape's refereeing," Robin said. "So they ought to."
"Snape?" Aurora laughed. She hated him, and he hated her, but if there was anyone he hated more, it was Potter. And he absolutely hated Gryffindor House. "Oh, they've got no chance."
But much to Aurora's horror, they seemed to have a good chance. In fact, they won. Potter swooped down and caught the Snitch to save the day within five minutes and Aurora swore she had never hated someone more. "Bloody Potter," she muttered as they left. "I hate him. I really hate him. What is it about him? Does the world just - just bend around him? Or does he just think he's the centre of the universe and makes everyone else bend around him? I bet he cheats, too, you've seen Hermione Granger, that girl he hangs around with! She's smart for a Gryffindor. There's no way he can be so good!"
"Right," Gwen said, with an amused look. "Well, until we can prove—"
"Hang on," Aurora interrupted, as Potter caught her eye. "Where the hell's he going?"
He was marching out of the broomshed with his broom in hand. "I don't know," Gwen said. "Maybe he's going to polish it. Come on, I'm hungry."
"You two go on ahead." Gwen looked slightly exasperated but she did as Aurora told her and she and Robin joined the crowd headed to the school.
Quietly and carefully, Aurora hurried after Potter, watching him fly into the Forbidden Forest. Who did he think he was? She ran as fast as she could to the edge of the Forest, where Potter was amongst the low tree branches. He hadn't noticed her, so she scampered up a nearby tree and swim herself across the thick canopy until she could hear voices. The first was Snape's, the second Quirrel's.
"...students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."
Aurora felt like her heart had dropped right to the pit of her stomach. That was why Potter and his friends had been looking for Nicholas Flamel? But why? She could think of a million reasons why someone would want the thing, but why was it relevant right now? "Have you figured out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"
"B-b-but Severus," Quirrel stuttered.
"You do not want me as your enemy, Quirrel." Snape's voice made Aurora feel entirely cold. She knew what it was to be intimidated and threatened by this man, yet Quirrel was not taking it nearly as well as she always did.
"I-I don't know what you mean—"
"You know perfectly well what I mean. And what of your little bit of hocus pocus? I'm waiting."
"B-b-but I d-d-don't—"
"Very well," Snape said. "We'll have another chat sometime soon. When you've had some time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie."
Loyalty? That made it sound like Quirrel had to decide to work with Snape, or for him. Presumably their opposition would be Dumbledore — did that mean the Philosopher's Stone was here at Hogwarts? Surely, if they mentioned Hagrid... A sudden thought struck her and she had to try very hard not to gasp. The third floor corridor. Of course. But why would the stone be here?
Snape and Quirrel both left, and from the sound of the rustling in the tree next to Aurora, Potter was leaving too. She scrambled quickly down, and caught a glimpse of him as he pushed off on his broom. Aurora narrowed her eyes. It was one thing for her to follow him to see what he was up to, but why was he so involved in this? Unless... He wanted the stone? Eternal glory and gold and the power of life. With a jolt in her stomach she realised that, for someone who didn't understand how the stone truly worked, it could be very tempting. It explained what they'd been up to for so long, maybe even since Halloween.
Still thinking it over, Aurora made her way back to the castle on her own. This was something Draco would be very interested to hear, that Potter was meddling and probably breaking school rules in the process, but she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him. This was something she wanted to discover herself.