"Black!" Flint's voice bellowed over the Quidditch pitch. "Get your arse up here before these brooms freeze!"

Aurora snapped to attention, clutching her broom in one hand. The boys on the team had been running drills, leaving her on the bench to 'watch and learn' but her own attentions had drifted to her Arithmancy assignment and then to her father. It had been two weeks since they last spoke and far as she knew, he had not come near the school again, but that didn't mean he wouldn't, if he didn't get what he wanted. She hardly knew what to do, and her attempts to break into Filch's office had failed — it seemed someone had put extra enchantments around the door, rendering any unlocking spells useless.

But she swore to herself, as a matter of pride, and to her father, that she would manage to find a way. She knew the part of her that wanted revenge, too. If her father was lying, she would have revenge upon him — but if he wasn't, then Peter Pettigrew would suffice too. And she would do all that she could to find him, to find the truth. After that, she did not know. She didn't want to think of all the implications of her father's freedom and innocence. She didn't want to think of what that meant for her.

"Black!" Flint yelled again, and she jolted. "Have you had your ears cut off or something?"

She shook her head, shivering as she mounted her broom. "Keep your hair on, Flint!" she shouted back up at him, kicking off. "I'm coming!"

"Too busy painting your nails down there, Black?" Bole jeered, and she hissed in annoyance.

"Actually, I was contemplating what happened to your face to make it so ugly. Then I remembered that's just the way it was made."

Bole scowled but she caught both Draco and Cassius laughing. "Both of you," Flint snapped, "shut up and listen. Gather 'round." They did so, meeting in a little circle of eight, high above the ground. It was early March but a chill still lingered in the school grounds, helped along, Aurora was sure, by the presence of the Dementors just outside the gates, leeching colour from the sky. "Right now, we're in the lead for the cup, but that could all change. Ravenclaw's lost two, won one, Gryffindor's one all, and Hufflepuff are right down the bottom, but they've only played one match so far. Right now, we're without any losses, but if we want to get the victory in the bag then we still need to beat Hufflepuff by a significant margin next week, alright? We weren't good enough against Ravenclaw at all." They all nodded. "That means I don't want any slacking from the Chasers, and Bletchley, you had better not let any goals in." Miles Bletchley swallowed nervously and nodded. He had been on edge all practice, Aurora had noted — since it was his last year, too, he was just as desperate as Flint to pull off a cup win. "Malfoy, keep Diggory busy. Try and hold off on getting the Snitch until we've got a good lead on them, yeah? Derrick, Bole, you know what to do with Hufflepuffs." The pair exchanged a savage look and Aurora tried not to roll her eyes. "And Black?"

"Yes, Flint."

"I might sub you in. Don't get distracted by Diggory."

She raised her eyebrows coolly. "Distracted? Why would I get distracted, Flint?"

Derrick and Bole laughed, and she resisted the urge to lunge across and slap their stupid grins off. "Pretty boy Diggory," Bole said, as if that was an explanation, "all the girls fancy him."

"I'm not interested in pretty boys," Aurora said, cheeks flaring at the insinuation. Regardless of how Diggory looked, she was not going to lose her head — and she knew none of the boys would have had a comment like that made to them. "Especially Hufflepuffs. Although, if I remember correctly, it was Derrick who kept making eyes at Cho Chang last match." Now, it was his turn to go pink, and Aurora bit back a smirk of satisfaction. "Flint, I'm ready whenever you need me. I promise I've a better brain in my head than these two goons."

Cassius chuckled, causing Aurora to grin over at him, warmed by their alliance.

"Well, we may well need it," Flint said, face still stony. "Gryffindor have one win in the bag — we'll need all three to be certain of a victory. And it can't be by a slim margin. I want Wood weeping and sobbing before his final match, understand?"

"Yes, Flint," they all murmured.

"Alright." He scowled round at them, and then without warning, pitched the Quaffle into the air. "Black, catch!"

She jolted, and only just managed to get a grip of the ball that Flint had flung across the circle at her. "Good. Now, Warrington, Montague — run those drills with her. I'll assess."

Aurora had to hide her scowl for the betterment of the team. Flint was a prat and he wasn't helped by Derrick and Bole. She could only hope Cassius or Graham was made captain next year, and she wouldn't have to deal with the boys' bullshit so much.

Still, being up in the sky always made her feel better — something about the thrill of it, of freedom to grin and let herself soar because no one else could truly see her, made it one of the best feelings in the world. It didn't matter, for a moment, what the boys on the team thought of her, or what anyone else thought of her family, or what she thought of her father. All that mattered was her and the sky and what she could do.

Though the match was still just over a month away, Flint bellowed at them throughout practice and when Aurora returned to the dungeons for her shower, she was exhausted in the best way, still racing with adrenaline from the flight.

Hair still slightly damp from an awry drying charm, Aurora sat down to have a think. It was, of course, entirely possible that the map her father had mentioned was no longer in Filch's office at all, but this was the only lead she had to go on at all so far, even if she hadn't managed to get inside. But she did knew one person who had experience in that area — one Robin Oliphant. It was the only lead she had to go on.

She bid her time until Gwen came back into the dorm, the boy in question at her heels. "Aurora," he said, tipping his head. "Nott's seeking you out for some Ancient Runes?"

"As always," she mused. "I'll be through in a bit, once this hair's dried out." She leaned back, tilted her chin. "Say, Oliphant, did you really get taken into Filch's office for that Ever-Bashing Boomerang the other day?"

"Yes," he said with a scowl.

"Ever tried to get all of those things you had confiscated back?"

"I tried," Robin said, grinning. "I've even taken more than I gave. The drawer isn't actually all that well protected, just the office door, but I can't just sneak in. I'd have to take Mrs Norris out first, for a start."

"On a date? I could rope Stella into it."

He rolled his eyes but she felt a small spark of satisfaction at the smile that tweaked his lips as he sat on the edge of Gwen's bed.

"What are you up to?" Gwen asked, and Aurora hummed.

"You wouldn't believe me if I said nothing, would you?"

"Absolutely not."

She thought quickly, smirking. "I heard last year's class rankings are being kept in there, since there weren't any exams. I want to know how high I placed."

Robin rolled his eyes, and Gwen sighed. "I hate that I believe that."

"Well, I always assumed I was top of the year, but Hermione Granger seems to disagree and I just can't have that."

"Of course not." Robin snorted. "Filch keeps his office locked most of the time. You'd have to make sure it was open already." She pursed her lips, thinking.

"Thank you, Oliphant," she purred. "You've been of great help."

In truth, she could have worked the point about Mrs Norris out for herself. But the confirmation on the door being locked was useful. She would have to be sneakier than anyone else would normally — she suspected Filch was suspicious of her, and wouldn't put it past Potter to creep about after her if he thought there was anything amiss — but Aurora assured herself that she could do it.

Her session with Theodore — and later a tentative Leah MacMillan — went well, even if Aurora was distracted by thoughts of her map mission. Theodore seemed to notice, but he mercifully didn't press the subject.

It was that afternoon when she attempted her office break in — best to be efficient, she thought. As it was a Sunday, students were cramming in the last of their weekend homework, or else running between common rooms and the Great Hall. This was when Filch tended to be in his most foul moods, and she intended to take advantage of that. The easiest way to get attention in the castle was to get Moaning Myrtle to get it for you, and so she heaved multiple Arithmancy textbooks into her arms, hurried up the stairs from the dungeons to the first floor, and made a point of tripping over the uneven stones just outside the door. Her books went flying far more dramatically than normal, and she made sure one hit the door. She stumbled into it, and waited for Myrtle to start yelling.

Mrs Norris darted down the corridor almost immediately, and Aurora sank down against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. It had rather hurt her hip, actually, and it wasn't long before Filch was barrelling towards her too.

"Bloody students!" he cursed, and she moved hastily to try and gather up her books. "Throwing books in the corridor."

"I didn't throw them," she contested, with just the right note of petulance. "I tripped, these stones are dreadfully uneven."

That had him seething. His grip was tight on her arm, while the other was left trying to clasp all her books. "You're disturbing the peace," he said.

"Oh, but I didn't mean to—"

"Come with me," he barked. "That'll be a detention."

"That really is ridiculously unfair! You can't give me a detention, I just dropped some books!"

"Property of the school library!" he shouted, and she did feel ever so slightly guilty about their unwitting role in her possible criminality. "You're coming with me, there'll be house points taken for this."

She groaned as he led her away, and this time it wasn't fake. She didn't care about detentions for herself too much, they were bearable. But house points being taken hurt everyone, and made people unhappy with her. She would have to earn them back.

Having never had cause to go into Filch's office, Aurora found it be worse than she had imagined. There were chains and handcuffs lingering somewhere in the back — she did not like to think about why — and the whole place smelled distinctly of cats. She was sure Stella didn't smell as bad as that, though.

"Sit down," Filch barked, and she did so primly, setting the last of her books down on the desk. Then she had to wait. The clock ticked. At precisely eleven minutes past four, Peeves — with bribes of general mischief-making to get him do it, and a threat to set the Bloody Baron on him for blowing out all the torches in the Slytherin Common Room three nights ago — was going to knock over a shelf in the library, thus distracting Filch's attentions and giving her ample time to search. Again, she felt guilty for implicating the library, but needs must.

Filch was almost done writing out her detention slip when she heard the crash and schooled her features into polite surprise. "Peeves!" Filch yelled. "That blasted poltergeist—" The ink blotted where he jabbed his quill into parchment. "You," he snarled. "Stay here."

She held her hands up. "I'm not going anywhere. But it sounded like the library — could you take these up for me?"

Of course, he said no — but it was worth chancing it, for him to take longer. He glared at her finally, before storming out and slamming the door behind him.

Aurora grinned and, once his footsteps had silenced, she stood. There were multiple drawers, but she eyed the obvious first — the confiscated drawer.

Unlocked. She grinned and wrenched it open, eyeing all manner of contraband: very out of date droobles, three Fanged Frisbees which snatched at her, an interesting pair of violet spectacles, a black box with wires and blue sparks coming out of it which Aurora thought was some Muggle music device, and a very shrill sneakoscope which would not shut up. But no parchment. Nothing which even resembled parchment.

"Shit," she muttered, and slammed it shut. "Where now?"

She started in the desk drawer, but there was little of interest. Her father had said it would be blank, but everything was paperwork — rules about safety in Care of Magical Creatures class, notes on the upkeep of the Quidditch pitch, and plans for some sort of tournament which made her frown. In the bottom, she found a piece of parchment marked REMOVAL, and beneath it were the titles of dozens, probably hundreds, of books. She stared at it. Presumably these had all been in the Hogwarts library at some point or another, but titles like The Darkest Art had been removed. Dumbledore's doing, she was certain of it.

But she couldn't linger. She put everything back in its place and closed the drawer, moving onto the next. Then, a prickle went up her neck. In a second, she saw a low flash, a shadow, of death, appearing by the door, warning. She shot over to her seat, cringing when the legs scraped against the floor.

Not a moment later, the office door opened and she turned. But it wasn't Filch. It was Lupin. She exhaled.

"Hello Professor. Filch hasn't given you detention too, has he?"

His smile was somewhat humourless and she bit her tongue. He looked awfully unwell, green about the cheeks, and his eyes kept darting to the window, outside of which the sun was close to setting.

"I believe my mischief making days are behind me, Aurora," he said, with a small and forced laugh.

"I don't have mischief making days," she said, raising her eyebrows. "All I did was trip and drop some books which startled Moaning Myrtle. Filch is just in a bad mood. He's off upstairs just now — it sounded like someone dropped something big in the library."

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. She didn't like that he seemed to know when she wasn't quite telling the truth, and wondered, idly at first and then with a greater sense of panic, if he saw her acting the same way her father once had, in their 'mischief making days'.

"Detention slip?" he asked, instead of interrogating her.

"Yes," she said, pursing her lips. "I think it's rather extreme, but I am clearly not the authority on what constitutes detention. Just ask Snape, he'll give me one for breathing."

Lupin did smile somewhat at that. "It does seem a bit extreme, yes. But as a matter of fact, I was just here to discuss some maintenance matters with Mister Filch, before popping downstairs for a chat with Professor Snape."

"Sounds wretched," Aurora said.

His smile was ghostly. "You have no idea." He raised his eyebrows. "Interesting reading material?"

"Arithmancy," she replied. "So, somewhat."

"Ah, yes." Something came into his eyes then, but he seemed to blink it away. "Say, that slip seems to assign your detention to your Head of House."

Aurora let out a groan. "That would be my luck." Words formed before she could stop them, "I just wish I had something to warn me if he was coming. Filch, I mean. He's everywhere."

It had the expected effect of disconcerting Lupin slightly. His eyes flickered to the confiscated drawer and back again. "Say, I haven't given a detention in a while." She grinned pre-emptively. "I may as well volunteer while I'm here. Save you the trouble from Professor Snape."

Aurora beamed. "Sir, have I told you you're my favourite teacher?"

"Well, I would hope I'm above Severus in your rankings."

"Anyone's above Severus in my rankings," she said.

"Professor Snape to you," Lupin corrected, but he was grinning.

"Sorry. Professor Snape." She grinned. "But seriously, thank you. I'm never entirely convinced that he isn't going to turn into a bat."

His lips twitched but she saw the weariness behind the action. She lulled back into her seat, just as Filch came storming back inside. "Blasted polter—" He stopped short, lip curling. "Mr Lupin."

"Mr Filch." Lupin smiled. "We meet again."

He snorted. "What do you want?"

"I — would rather keep that matter for discussion without a student present." Aurora frowned. That was interesting, but she wasn't going to push it, not as Lupin said, "I've offered to take Miss Black for her detention next weekend. Professor Snape seems very busy at the moment."

Filch muttered something under his breath which Aurora couldn't make out, but made Lupin tense. Nevertheless, he filled out the form as requested and handed it over to Lupin.

"Seven o'clock, Saturday evening."

Aurora grimaced. "Great." But she did send a grin Lupin's way as she gathered her books up and swept out of the room. "Thank you, Professor. Have a nice evening!"

But from the look of his tight smile, he didn't think he would.

She spent the walk to the library, and then back to the common room, considering the absence of the map in Filch's office. Someone else must have gotten there before her. Probably an absolute bastard, probably a Gryffindor.

Knowing her luck, she was certain it was Harry Potter.

-*

Saturday came as a delightful reprieve for most of her friends, who were beginning to feel the pressure of their upcoming exams and the mountains of extra homework their professors were unloading on them. For Aurora, though, the trip into Hogsmeade was no time for relaxation. If she knew Potter at all — and she was fairly certain that, after almost three years of fighting and sniping at one another, she had to know something about the boy's nature — then she knew that he would take the opportunity to sneak into Hogsmeade with Weasley, if such an opportunity presented itself. He already had taken the opportunity before; now the question was, would he risk it again?

When she saw Weasley looking far too pleased at heading into the village by himself at ten o'clock, she thought to herself, yes. As far as she knew, Potter was no animagus, and she would have been greatly surprised if he possessed any of the work ethic to become one, so the only other way she knew he might be able to get out of the castle was if he knew one of the passages from the map. And then, it stood to reason, he would have the map.

It may have been a far-fetched theory, and desperate to her own mind, but it was all she had to go on. And she supposed she might as well take the opportunity to see what he was up to — he had been far too quiet the past few weeks, and it was disconcerting.

She ventured down with Draco, Pansy, Theodore, Blaise, Lucille and Daphne, with Millicent, Vince and Greg pulling up the rear someways behind them. The girls, on Lucille's word, insisted on visiting Madam Puddifoot's tea shop after shopping, but the boys were all happy to go for a wander around the village, after a mandatory stop in Honeydukes and then Zonko's. It was there that Aurora first saw Ron Weasley. When he caught her eye, his mouth was already half open like he was speaking to someone. But Aurora pretended not to notice, and when he slipped out — with an unexpected extra foot following him for a second — she hurried Draco to the counter to buy the firecrackers he'd found, bought a small bag of dungbombs for herself thinking they may have their used, and insisted he come with her.

Vincent and Greg tailed them, of course, and Aurora said as they began the brisk walk towards the outskirts of the village, "Weasley's acting awfully funny, don't you think?"

Draco just shrugged and gave her a strange look. "Weasley always acts funny, why's this any different?" She gave him a significant look and then his forehead cleared.

"He looked like he was talking to himself."

"Even Potter isn't that stupid?"

Aurora laughed. "You would hope not, yet here we are here." She gestured to the flash of red hair a little ways in front of them. "Looks like they're headed to the Shrieking Shack."

"They're?" Vincent grunted from behind them. Aurora jumped, having almost forgotten about his presence.

"I don't know how they've done it, but Potter has a way of getting about unseen. Maybe an Invisibility Cloak... Either way, Weasley isn't alone down there."

"But—" Greg started, "What about the Dementors?"

"He knows some passageway," Aurora told him. "To get out of school. It's ridiculous, he really ought to have reported it, but he is a Gryffindor."

Draco gave a low snort at that, and even Vincent cracked a grin. Keeping her eyes on Weasley and his invisible pal, Aurora led the boys around the back of some hedges, obscuring them from view until they could be sure Potter was there.

"Why are we hiding?" Greg asked, and she swatted at the air to get him to keep his voice down.

"Biding our time," she whispered back. "See, I want to know if Potter is there — or if Weasley's just lost it and is wandering around by himself instead of talking to Granger."

It soon became apparent, as they squatted in the cold, that Potter was taking pains to keep himself hidden; but she noted the slip around the ground, the occasional flutter in the breeze that revealed the soles of shoes. He was using an Invisibility Cloak, too, she thought bitterly, wondering how and why Potter always got such things.

"Alright," she said, "he's definitely here. The bastard."

A smirk came over Draco's face. She noted similar looks on Gregory and Vincent. Anticipatory. She swallowed. "Come on then," Draco muttered, getting up. She let him go, leading Vincent and Greg and teasing Weasley loudly about standing by himself, staring at the shack.

Aurora pointedly ignored some of the nastier comments, instead focusing on the space just beside Weasley. She had to admit, she was starting to doubt herself. That cloak — if it was an Invisibility Cloak, but she really doubted Potter knew how to do a Disillusionment Charm — was good. Really good.

Nerves worked up in her throat. But she tried to trust her instincts.

Carefully, she stood, shook out her legs, and strolled out from behind the hedges.

"Come now, Draco," she drawled, smirking. "Weasley's all alone." The boy in question paled. His eyes flicked guiltily to the side, where there was apparently nothing but thin air. Aurora couldn't see Potter at all, to the point she doubted if she had even seen anything. Was this merely wishful thinking?

"Shove off, Black," Weasley muttered, the tips of his ears going red.

"I'm merely stating a truth, Weasley." Deliberately, she raised her eyebrows. "Aren't I?"

The anger with which he said, "Yes!" proved that he was not.

Aurora held back her smirk. "How sad. Still not made up with your girlfriend?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Black," Weasley snapped, going pink. She had touched a nerve then.

"And what about Potter? Finally learned not to start fights in the middle of the—"

Mud came flying out of nowhere and slapped her straight on the cheek. Aurora was too shocked to move, as her whole face filled with warmth. Draco and the boys stared at her bewildered.

"'Rora," Vincent started, "you've got a bit of..."

Another ball of mud came flying and hit Draco. Aurora turned to the source, seething. "You prats," she said, eyes latching onto Weasley. And then, she lunged forward, trying to catch onto something because she knew Potter was here, he had to be, who else would throw mud at her?

"Who did that?" Draco asked, turning around. "Aurora, what are you—" But she could see faint footsteps in the soil, dancing just around her.

"Very haunted around here, isn't it?" Weasley said casually, holding back a laugh, and she tried not to scream.

"Oh, you absolute—"

More mud splattered her hair and she shrieked. "Harry Potter," she seethed, and as she turned, reaching, there was a gasp, and something slipped from the air.

Bright green eyes stared back at her.

She pounced. There was a corner of a piece of parchment poking out of the pocket of his robes, and she made a snatch for it, but he had swept his cloak back over himself and vanished, without a single trace.

Aurora turned, at the same time as Draco yelled, "I'm telling Snape!" and bolted in the direction of the castle.

Furious, Aurora turned around stupidly on the spot, trying to catch any sight of Potter. But there was none. She turned back to Weasley, glowering. "What exactly is the meaning of this?" He burst out laughing, even though he looked frightfully pale from shock. "You absolute—"

But she couldn't even find the words as Weasley turned and started running just after Draco, leaving her standing alone in the clearing, covered in mud.

A great black dog came padding out from behind the bushes, grey eyes shining. Aurora ground her teeth. "Don't," she muttered, scowling. "Bloody — Potter!"

Then, trying to avoid the mud that clung to her bag, she turned and hurried back up to Hogwarts. Would she have a better chance of getting the map if she confronted Potter? Almost certainly. Draco was going to go to Snape, and Snape would confiscate the map himself. He'd be the possibly most difficult person in the entire castle to steal it back from — especially for her.

Heart pounding, she wondered if Lupin would recognise the map. Presumably he would. But she couldn't go to him, her father had told her not to... She tore her fingers through her hair, trying to scoop out the clumps of mud. It was absolutely vile. Potter was absolutely vile, she thought, running as fast as she could. She could see Weasley someways in front of her, and Draco even further in front of him, with Vincent and Gregory keeping pace. She bit back swear words, rushing up to the gates, shuddering at the Dementors and trying to focus on anything other than how much she hated Harry Potter in that moment.

She tried to shake the cold feeling off as she rushed through the courtyard, and then inside. Hardly anyone was around but a couple of younger Hufflepuffs who caught sight of her and laughed.

Scowling, she decided to turn and run down towards the dungeons. She pelted along, but then Draco reached around and clasped her arm. "I've already told, Snape," he said. "Potter's in there now." He wrinkled his nose. "Your hair stinks."

"So do you," she snapped, turning around. "For goodness' sake!"

"Snape's going to rip him apart." His eyes were gleeful. Aurora couldn't let on her private disappointment.

"No," Aurora said shakily, glancing along the corridor. "Brilliant. Good. My hair — I can't believe —"

Snape's door opened and Aurora turned around sharply, seeing Potter being escorted out of the office by Professor Lupin. He didn't look as angry as Aurora thought he ought to, but he looked certainly disappointed. When he caught sight of Aurora, his eyes widened.

"Are you quite alright?"

"Ask Potter," she said, trying to mask most of her irritation when she addressed Lupin. Potter stared at her, and Aurora made a sound of disgust. "I hope Snape's given you detention for a week!"

-*

Her own detention that night did nothing to improve her mood. She was just glad that it was with Professor Lupin rather than anyone else. He greeted her warmly when she entered the room.

"Aurora. Seven o'clock on the dot, I'm impressed."

"I do try to be punctual, Professor."

"A rare trait among third years, unfortunately. I had two Ravenclaws twenty five minutes late yesterday, if you can believe it."

"Wasn't Entwhistle and McDougal, was it?" She raised his eyebrows at the surprised look on his face. "Gwendolyn is certain they're dating."

"Well, I'm not particularly invested in the Hogwarts gossip," he told her primly, but he was still grinning. "Now, to detention. I suppose I have to give you something to do. You could write your essay for my class, if you'd like to make the most of your time — I'd be more than happy to help you with it."

The essay was about dealing with selkies and kelpies, two fascinating magical creatures, who required more brain than brawn to get around. They were tricksters, not fighters — and Aurora had already started it, but left the parchment in her room. And a tentative thought came to her.

She met Professor Lupin's eyes, considering, before she asked, "Would you look at my Patronus Charm?"

He stared at her, with an uneasy smile. "I'm sorry?"

"My cousin Dora," she started, clasping her hands together, "taught me about the charm, since I've been having trouble with the Dementors. I've been practicing on my own in the dorms, but haven't yet made as much progress as I would like. I thought you might have some pointers?"

Lupin at least managed to cover up his surprise fairly quickly. "Well, I can certainly try," he told her. "How far have you gotten?"

"I can get a sort of mist. Sometimes it looks like it's going to take a form, but doesn't quite get there, and I can't keep it up for very long."

"And you've been working on a happy memory?"

Her chest tightened. "Yes. But I still don't think I've got it right. I'm trying to recreate a happy feeling but..." She couldn't meet his eyes, feeling her cheeks flush. How to admit that she simply couldn't seem to reach that happiness that lay inside of her? "Practice makes perfect," she said instead of addressing the issue.

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "Of course. Just so long as you are comfortable with what you're doing."

She wasn't really — Aurora barely knew what she was doing — but kept up a polite, confident smile as she stood. Professor Lupin was no Dementor, and even her imagination could not make him appear as one. "If you at least show me what you can do so far, then I can advise as to what you need to work on. You can point your wand at me," he said, "if you need something to focus on."

Aurora nodded, gripping her wand tightly and trying to focus on the feeling of soaring through the air on a broomstick, with the wind blazing against her cheeks. It was a feeling of complete freedom, of being above the world and all its material concerns. No one could touch her when she was flying. But it was a difficult feeling to recreate. Her last Quidditch match was tinged with the bitter cold of the Dementors, and even now her parents' words rang in her ears. She tried to steady herself as she said, "Expecto patronum!" and let the words glide out of her.

From her wand came a feeble silver wisp that she frowned at. "Expecto patronum," she repeated, more furiously, and slowly, something began to take form. Aurora scowled. "See, it still—"

"Positive memory," Lupin said quickly, "have patience with it."

Aurora forced herself to smile again and focus on the sensation of the wind tangling her hair, of letting the world drop away from her sight.

"Expecto patronum!" More silver mist, the vague shape of something canine, a high and bushy tail. It took no clearer form, despite Aurora's repetitions, as she clung to the feeling of freedom, soaring through the air. The patronus seemed to shift with that thought, becoming faint wisps and then a shield that ran all around her. She let it slip away, when it became clear nothing more was going to materialise.

She looked to Lupin. "I don't understand. It's like I get so far and then it all just stops."

"There's something hindering you from truly connecting with the emotions behind the memory," Lupin explained. "That's the most reasonable explanation. Out of curiosity: what did you choose to focus on?"

Aurora felt her cheeks heat. "Flying," she told him, looking pointedly at the floor. "Specifically Quidditch training. The books said to have a memory connected to a feeling. I think flying's the best feeling in the world."

There was something his eyes as she said that, like recognition. He blinked it away as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving Aurora to wonder why. "Perhaps it's making you think back to the Gryffindor match," he suggested. "Are you..." He didn't seem to know how to phrase his question but Aurora felt sure that she knew what he meant.

"It didn't exactly evoke a happy memory that day," she said. "But I don't know what else I can really think of to make me feel like that."

"And how does that make you feel?" Lupin asked, frowning.

Aurora didn't want to reply. Not because the feeling was shameful, or anything of the sort, but because she didn't know quite how to explain it, or explain why the feeling was so precious. "I don't know. Just... Happy, I suppose." Lupin raised his eyebrows. Normally Aurora would close off at this point, but Lupin was looking at her so expectantly that she couldn't stop herself from answering. "It makes me feel... Freer. I don't have to worry about anything." He was frowning at her, in the same way again, like he recognised something in her statement. It disconcerted Aurora.

"It sounds like a good start," he said at last. "But your memory needs to be much stronger — and you need to allow yourself to truly connect to it. Perhaps though, now you know the feeling, you should latch onto a more specific moment. Prevent your mind from straying." That did make sense. Aurora nodded softly. "If you want to fight Dementors, you can't let them into your memory."

"Of course," she said. "Should I try again?"

Lupin smiled weakly. "Perhaps take a small break." There was something odd in his voice, still. He tilted his head towards his desk. "Sit. I would like to talk to you."

At this, Aurora frowned, but she didn't question it, just put her wand in her sleeve and sat down, eyeing the creatures and pictures that lined the walls, and the trinkets decorating his desk — spinning tops, little stands, a small rotating globe. "Have I ever told you," she said, "you definitely have the best interior design skill of all our Defense teachers."

Lupin laughed. There was still something unsteady about it. "I will take that as the highest of compliments, Aurora. Out of curiosity, what were my predecessors like?"

She pulled a face. "Lockhart had an awful lot of self portraits. It was obnoxious — not that one could really expect any different from him. Quirrel was just rather boring — though, I suppose, he turned out not to be so boring after all."

Lupin sighed, glancing away. "Yes. Dumbledore told me all about your first year at Hogwarts."

Cold went through her. "I see."

He coughed awkwardly. "That actually has something to do with what I wanted to discuss with you. I heard you were with Harry at the end of the fight with Quirrel."

"Oh." Her stomach dropped. Anything that involved Potter was never anything good. "What is it, Professor?"

"I'm sure you're aware that Harry managed to find his way into the village today."

She let out a mirthless laugh. "Oh, I'm perfectly aware, Professor. He covered me in mud before revealing himself." She scowled.

Lupin's answering smile was tense. "Harry mentioned to me something rather unsettling which I thought I perhaps ought to relay to you. About a large dog hanging about in the trees."

She tried very, very hard not to let her shock show and keep her voice even. The face of trained neutrality was one she had picked up from her Aunt Lucretia, but this called for something slightly more akin to thoughtful confusion. "I don't think I saw anything today," she said slowly, "but I was a bit preoccupied. Though." She gnawed her lip. "There was some stray hanging about last term. I don't think I've seen it since, though." She looked back at him. He seemed to be puzzling something. "I'm sure a dog is nothing to worry about though, is it? Unless it's the grim, which I doubt. I've heard Professor Trelawney likes to make predictions about it."

Lupin didn't appear amused. Aurora's heart was in her throat. Her father had been seen — the idiot! "I'm sure it is nothing to worry about," Lupin told her after a long, torturous moment. "Just rather unusual."

She gave a small laugh, forehead creased. "Suppose. Though I wouldn't be surprised if some wayward Gryffindor had snuck a dog into their common room."

The corners of Lupin's lips twitched upwards for just a moment before he stopped himself, and the action became tinged with sadness. "Nevertheless. You will be careful, won't you?"

Aurora raised her eyebrows. "More careful than Potter at any rate."

He pursed his lips. It was then that Aurora's eyes caught the yellowed, old piece of folded parchment lying on his desk. She tried not to look at it for more than a second, but her father had told her of the mark hiding in the top right corner. Lupin had it the right way round and everything.

"You may not want to hear this," Lupin continued, and Aurora tore her gaze from the parchment, "and I don't say it to frighten you, but you are in, I think, a lot more danger than you realise. I'm glad you're taking an interest in Defense Against the Dark Arts, though. But — do be careful."

She nodded hastily, hardly daring to look back at the parchment. It couldn't be — but of course, if Potter had used it to sneak into Hogsmeade, and Lupin had caught him, then he would have confiscated it, especially if he knew what it was. "Of course, Professor. I am being careful. I just all of this would stop."

Professor Lupin's eyes glimmered with sympathy. "We all do, Aurora. I know it must be affecting you, and I am so sorry." She tried not to let her discomfort show. "But we will find him soon."

Her eyes darted curiously back to the parchment on his desk, certain on a second glance that it was the piece described. For a second she considered telling Lupin about her father and his innocence — but she didn't have proof, he would think she was out of her mind and besides, she was terrified that he wouldn't want to hear it, that in trying to let anyone in on this, she would make everything a million times worse.

"I have every faith in the Ministry," she said, trying not to sound sarcastic. "Even if they have proven less than effective already."

She looked back to the parchment, certain now that this must be the map described, yet worried that if she tried to mention it, she would be wrong, that it would ruin any chance she had.

"I believe I've taken up enough of your evening with detention," Lupin told her quietly, and Aurora started, blinking over the desk at him. There was a lingering doubt in his eyes, and a sadness.

She stood up quickly with a small smile. "Thank you, Professor. I appreciate the concern. And the help with the Patronus. I'll work on it."

He smiled only faintly as Aurora stood. "I have no doubt that you will. Good evening."

Her own smile was sharp and tense. She nodded and then turned, leaving.

Once she was in the corridor and the door firmly closed behind her, she let out a ragged breath and hurried down the hallways. She couldn't go to the common room immediately when her heart was pounding so terribly. She felt like she was going to be sick. He knew. Lupin knew her father's Animagus form and Potter had seen him. He would have to run. The stupid idiot had gotten himself seen and now he would have to go. She had no idea where. The continent would be safest. The further away from Britain the better — the Black family had a house in Russia, where the Ministry couldn't get to him, and the Russian Ministry had little to do with the British, thinking them backwards.

Aurora ducked into the nearest bathroom, and went to the sink, staring at herself in the cracked mirror. Her father had been foolish and reckless — as he always was, as he always had been — and now he was going to have to leave. Again. Anger swelled within her.

Lupin had the map and he knew how to use it. He would be able to see if her father came into the grounds just as he would be able to see if she was sneaking off them. While there was a possibility he could see Pettigrew on it, she knew she couldn't count on that. Not for the first time, she considered trying to tell him the truth, but she still couldn't believe he would react well.

This was all Potter's fault, she thought, just for a moment, as she clasped the cold porcelain edge of the sink. But she also knew that it wasn't. This was her father's fault, Lupin's fault, the Dark Lord's fault — the universe's fault for conspiring against her and her family. Potter didn't know the truth, nor did he know the real consequences of his actions. He didn't know that he would condemn an innocent man. Aurora had not known either.

With some effort, she stood up straight. She undid her tie and then did it up again, perfectly neat, and she let her hair out of its ponytail, allowing it to fall over her shoulders. At least it lessened some of the strain on her head.

"Get a grip," she whispered at her reflection, plucking down the sleeves of her robes.

When Aurora got to the common room, no one seemed to notice the turbulence of her mind. She felt she had to warn her father as soon as possible, but surely Lupin would be looking at the map. She couldn't sneak out at night, that was simply too dangerous, and her absence would definitely be noticed by Gwen. There wasn't another Hogsmeade weekend for ages as far as she knew, and she couldn't miss the next Quidditch match either. She would have to see her father at some point. But what was to say that he would go, and that he would even find somewhere to go? She hadn't seen any of the houses abroad in years, she didn't know what state they were in, and asking Kreacher might rouse suspicion.

Just as she thought she had been on the verge of something, her control was slipping away again, and she was terrified of losing that.

-*

A/N: If anyone is confused about the timeline going on here — in the PoA book, there is a week between the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Quidditch match and the Hogsmeade weekend. For pacing purposes here, there are three weeks between these instead.