A few evenings later, Aurora gave herself the night off from studying in order to do some of her own research in her favourite quiet corner of the common room, in a small clove containing only a few bookshelves — filled with the history of Slytherin house — a desk, and two chairs. Quiet as that space was, she was able to comfortably cover her table with stacks of books which Callidora had recommended her to read. Most of tonight's selection were about magical geology, specifically its use in ritual, or the Lapis Nocte stone, alongside her current favourites: Medieval Curses and Counter-Curses and A History of Blood and Death Magic.
From the angle of her chair she could keep herself — and her books — mostly hidden in the shadows, while also keeping an eye on the common room around her. She didn't know what she expected to happen, but she had grown accustomed lately to never sitting with her back to the door if she could help it, especially not if she was sitting alone.
It was approaching midnight and the room was nearly cleared; all Aurora's friends, with the exception of Theodore, had already gone to bed, and only a handful of O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students remained amongst them. Aurora's eyes burned as she read, keeping notes.
Magic may be especially strong where the ground ruptures, spilling power from the earth over into the middle realms...
Where lines of power cross over or encircle one another, magical power is at its strongest. It is best harnessed by circles or triangles when working with physical ritual. Three points creates the most stable of spells, but other portions may be used... Seven to amplify power, though caution the instability of this number. Thirteen works best for curses, and all that which transcends life and death...
She noted that down, though her handwriting had grown sloppy with fatigue. Aurora winced, squeezing her burning eyes shut. Her brow bone flared with pai. Just a few more chapters, she promised herself. If she read two chapters of this, and one more of The Necromancer's Army, then she could go to sleep, get today's leftover correspondence dealt with in the morning before the next lot of post came through. But she had to get this done.
The Lapis Nocte turns itself up in various areas and everywhere is highly valued. Early accounts of such magically-endowed, dark stones, turn up in the inventory of the Merovingian queen Fredegund, wife of King Chilperic, notorious for her inclination towards assassinating her enemies...
She blinked through the growing darkness in her head and her tired eyelids, trying to focus. Queen Fredegund... Merovingian... That was most of France, she was sure, though which part of the kingdom he ruled she did not know. Still it compelled her to write: connection to Normandy? in her notes before she read on.
Lapis stones are known to have magical properties, with natural affinities for darker enchantments. They are also, in legend, used in the gateways of the world, those which mark the barrier between life and death. Such uses indicate the stone may not be of entirely natural origin, though these suggestions have never...
She sighed, eyes fluttering shut. She was halfway aware of the next few paragraphs, about how the ancients might have built their gateways and their veils, the use of blood magic and soul connections being important. Vaguely, she thought there might be something in there connected to alchemy.
Then she slipped into dreams, of dark caves with glittering stones, of blood marking a clearing of white trees and staining green grass red, of Death, whispering, of Regulus, screaming. Of a clash of swords and the howl of spirits.
"Aurora?"
She woke with a start, heart pounding. The common room was near silent now, and somehow, there was now a blanket over her shoulders. Turning, she saw Theo Nott looking at her from the other side of the room, by his usual sofa, wringing his hands. They were the only two left.
"Theo? What..." She flung the blanket off her shoulders, feeling like a child with it drawn around her.
"I, um." He swallowed, gaze darting around. "You fell asleep. Though I should let you know. But you — I mean, you looked like you needed sleep, but im heading to bed and figured you'd want me to wake you now so you can get to bed..."
He trailed off as she got to her feet, gaze immediately going to the grandfather clock ticking between them. Quarter to one. Not dreadfully late, but already she yearned to go back to sleep. She couldn't, though. There was too much she still had to do.
"You should've woken me earlier," she snapped, and guilt washed over Theo's face.
"Sorry, I... I thought it best to leave you."
"Do you have any idea how much I have to do at the moment? I can't afford to just be left to sleep when I've still got... All this!"
"I — sorry, I just didn't want to... You've looked exhausted all day. I should've gotten you to just go to bed but I figured..."
He trailed off as she sat down again with a huff and picked up her quill. "You're still going?"
"Obviously, Theo. I've still four chapters to read before I can go to bed and I've lost enough time already."
Theo didn't say anything, but he certainly looked like he wanted to. "You don't think you'd be better leaving it til the morning? You look exhausted, Aurora."
"Oh, well, thank you very much."
Suddenly, Aurora was all too conscious of the dark shadows beneath her eyes, of her pale face she'd tried to brighten that morning, of the cluster of spots breaking out on her cheeks from stress.
"If you're done with your observations, I'll go back to my work. Considering you're also still up and working, I really don't think you have anything to tell me off for. Unless you're trying to play some grade-winning mind games."
She had meant it as a joke but it had enough of a bite to it so as to make Theo look almost worried.
"Sorry," Aurora found herself saying. "I don't mean to be rude, Theo, I shouldn't have... Spoken like that. I've just — I have got rather a lot to do." She eyed the papers spread out behind him on the sofa. "And don't tell me you're not going to look over all of that once you get to your room, anyway."
He flushed. "Yeah, well... You may have a point, but I am intending on going to sleep. Once I can actually get my brain to stop for a minute."
She allowed herself a small smile. "You took the words right out of my mouth, Nott." Theo shook his head, sighing. "You can go to sleep. I'll finish this up in my room, Gwen won't wake for anything short of a bomb."
"Nor will Robin," Theo said, scoffing. "You should still probably go to sleep, though. You look exhausted."
Those words sent cold through her. With a scowl, Aurora turned and piled up her books and parchment from the table behind her, rearranged the cushion and blanket. "Again, Nott, I don't need your observations."
"I didn't mean — just — I mean, you've been the last one in the common room every night this week and you are exhausted even if you won't admit—"
"And what do you know?" Aurora found herself asking as she turned around, voice shriller than she would have liked. "You've hardly spoken to me since Easter, after all! No, you have hardly sat with me in the common room, anyhow, so what right do you have to pass judgment on how I spend my time?"
"That's not — I didn't mean to... I've been busy, we both have, so... But I was here tonight."
"Did I ask you to? Did I ask you to let me sleep and put a blanket over me like I'm a child when I have a million and one things I need to be doing and sleeping is not one of them?"
"I'm sorry," he was too quick to say, and she scoffed, annoyed with him, and annoyed with herself for showing that she was annoyed with him. "I just didn't want to disrupt you."
"Well, you should have. It's been two hours! And you can't tell me you wouldn't be the same as me because you've been up here working, too, for Merlin knows why, because you've shown no signs of wanting to work with me like we normally do before exams!"
She knew by the sudden withdrawn look on his face that she had said something wrong. The letters in his arms drew her attention and her stomach plummeted. All she could feel was the weight of his gaze on her face.
"I... I'm sorry."
"Stop saying you're sorry."
"Stop snapping at me, Aurora."
The calm with which he said it startled her, somehow. But when she saw his pale face, it felt worse than any shout or insult.
"I didn't mean to. I am sorry, I'm just... Tired. You're probably right, I should go to sleep. And you too, and catch up with... Whatever it is you're doing."
She went to sweep her books back into her bag and head out of the common room, nerves brittle and hands shaking. For a moment he let her pass, and then, with the firelight flickering against her skin, Theo said softly, "Aurora?"
Against her better will, she turned to meet his gaze.
He took a moment to speak, did that thing he always did where he hesitated, second-guessed his own words. "I didn't intend to become distant from you."
That was not what she had expected to hear and yet somehow, it did relieve her to know. "I'm sure you didn't. But it's really okay — I don't think I've been a particularly fun person to be around recently, from the way Draco and Pansy have been speaking."
He passed no comment on that. "Neither have I," he admitted, with a wince. "I just..."
No words came but she saw the bob of his throat, the restricted fear in his eyes, and her heart softened. Without a word, Aurora walked back towards him and asked, in the gentlest voice she could manage over her shivering nerves, "Is it your mother?"
He didn't meet her eyes, but he did nod.
"It's alright to be upset. I know stuff like this... It can affect you in more ways than you even realise at the time."
Looking back at her, Theo leaned against the arm of the sofa. Aurora rested against the sofa opposite, legs out in front of her, ankles crossed. "These—" he gestured to the papers scattered behind him "—are my mother's letters."
"Oh."
"She's getting worse." His voice was thick and he turned his gaze to the sky, to avoid looking at her, to avoid letting her see the vulnerability on his face. "She pretended she wasn't, but she is. My grandfather doesn't care, it's like he wants rid of her, and she's scared, and so are my siblings... She's going to die, Aurora. She won't admit it, and nor will he, but I know. And I hate that they're trying to cover it up but I understand and I hate that I'm the same, and won't say anything to my siblings because... Well, I don't know how, you know?"
"I know."
He nodded, though still wouldn't meet her eyes. "I don't know what I'm going to do. When she's gone. She's told me what she wants of course, for Ana and for me and my brothers. I have to carry out her wishes for them because Merlin knows my grandfather won't."
"He won't?"
Theo shook his head. "All he cares about is politics. Which I understand, that's his job. But he's just consumed by this need to be on top. Half the time I'm not sure he believes in anything other than himself and I don't think that's a good thing. Over the break, all he wanted to speak to me about was — was marriage and the future and what he believes the world ought to be. He wouldn't even entertain any of my worries about Mum."
"I'm sorry," Aurora said and meant it sincerely. She nudged Theo's foot gently with her own. "That sounds awful."
Theo scoffed. "Yeah, 'cause it is." He let out a humourless laugh and shook his head. "She hates him. I think I might too, just for her." He squeezed his eyes shut, and then lowered his head. When he opened his eyes again, their gazes met. "I shouldn't be telling you all this. You've got enough on your plate."
"Don't be ridiculous," Aurora said instantly, surprising herself. "I'm not too busy for this."
"My grandfather thinks you're conspiring against us, you know. That's another point he kept raising — the company I keep."
Cold ran through her. So that was another reason for the distance then; one he clearly wasn't at ease with admitting. "Well," Aurora said coolly, arching a brow in only slight amusement, "if you should like me to withdraw from the common room, I should gladly do so."
"Definitely not," Theo told her, a small, slight smirk appearing on his features. It faded as soon as it began. "Apparently I've to make good with the Carrows and Averys at the minute. He wants Flora and I together — you know this, right? — but he wants Ana — Ana, who's bloody twelve right now — to start befriending the Averys' boy! And they're a pile of..." He bit back whatever insult had surely been making its way to the tip of his tongue.
"Skrewt dung?" Aurora offered, and Theo almost laughed.
"I'm sorry," he said again, she she shook her head.
"You've nothing to apologise for, Theo." Though it hurt that his grandfather might not think her the best company, not politically advantageous, it wasn't entirely a surprise. She wished Theo didn't heed it, or feel he had to, but there was a strong part of her that understood. In what could well be the last weeks and months of his mother's life, he was trying to hold his family's world together whatever way he could.
He shook his head. "No, they... My grandfather's opinions are all wrong and they shouldn't matter. They don't matter. But if I stick in with the Carrows, if I do everything right, I can buy Ana some time to be a kid. I can buy them all some time and if I can do anything to make my mother's life easier, more comfortable, so that — so that they don't have to deal with losing her yet..."
"I know," Aurora said. Between them, the firelight flickered golden, and for a second they were held in balance, mutual understanding.
Theo looked like there was something more he wanted to say, but he hesitated, leapt over the words and shied away. And that was okay.
"If there's anything I can do," she told him in a gentle voice, "to help, tell me. And, you know, simply studying together is hardly scandalous."
He smiled thinly and something told her this wasn't the end of it. But he at least seemed calmer, less on edge, and she felt too, that something had lifted in the room. No doubt every worldly stress would come pouring back in in the morning, or even when she retreated to her room and got back to her work, but for now, the understanding held them together.
"Thank you," he said, and began to sweep together his mother's letters from the sofa. Aurora resisted the urge to offer to help, fiddling with the strap of her book bag instead. "I'm sorry for... You know."
"Stop apologising," she told him, "if anything, I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm stressed, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You were trying to do what you thought was the nice thing to do. And you're probably right that I need sleep, but." She shrugged. "Who has the time for that?"
His mouth worked its way back into a frown, and she grimaced. "Well, anyway. Thank you. I... There aren't many people I can talk about this with, so openly. Not about my mother and not about my grandfather."
That was something she understood too well, that dominating sense that no one else could truly hear what one had to say, that certain topics were forbidden to all but the innermost mind. "Well," she said, avoiding his gaze, "I'm glad you can talk to me. And, there's no pressure to, I hope you know, and I know I'm not the best for conversation generally, but, you can talk to me. I'm not good with emotions, but I do understand."
His smile was faint but it was there. There was something sorrowful in it, though, something she wasn't sure how to interpret.
"Same goes for you," Theo said, then added, "Lady Black."
She couldn't not laugh, not when his own lips lifted, amused by himself. "No need for titles in the privacy of the common room," she said, in a mockery of pretension, "Mister Nott."
He pressed his lips into a thin line, and clutched his letters to his chest. "Are you going to Merlin's Day this summer?" he asked, quite suddenly, and she blinked in surprise, caught off guard.
"I intend to, so long as I am invited. Why the change in conversation?"
"I'm curious. It's a week before election. My grandfather says only the most appropriate company will be there this year. It's where all the ost important conversations will happen."
"In such case," Aurora told him, "I'll make it a priority. Just for you. Provide a bit of entertainment, you know. If Lord Nott can handle such scandal."
Theo's answering smile was tentative, but looked like it wanted to be more. "That rhymed."
"I know it rhymed, Mister Nott."
"Very well, Lady Black." He took a step towards her, light in his eyes. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Aurora echoed, taking a quick step back, holding her bag tightly. She put on a small smile and turned. Footsteps echoed in opposite directions as they took their leave, but just as she reached the door, Aurora turned and said, "Theo?" He turned. "Do try and get some sleep, won't you?"
He raised his eyebrows, though there was a faint, grateful smile. "Won't you?"
-*
In the final week of May, on Friday afternoon, while Aurora was mentally preparing herself for the start of the Assembly election campaigning the next again Monday, Potter came up to her before Potions. She had wanted to leave early so that she might get a head start on studying outside, but it seemed he had other plans.
"You know how your dad said to keep an eye out for anything weird?" he asked, slightly breathless.
Aurora arched her eyebrows, intrigued. "Yes?"
"Hermione said Krum told her..." He looked warily over his shoulder as they hurried down from the Great Hall. "Krum told her he saw something weird in the forest last night. They were finding out something about the Third Task."
"Krum seeing something shifty might not mean anything," Aurora reasoned, frowning at him.
"He said he thought he saw Crouch. But he didn't get a good look."
"And?" Aurora sighed. It could mean something and clearly Potter was concerned, but there was nothing to suggest that meant anything was amiss. Nothing beyond that which was already apparent. "Crouch would be at the school, wouldn't he? That's perfectly normal."
"I dunno. It just sounded weird, from what Hermione said. And I thought I'd tell you, because I'm going to write to your dad and tell him and I figured I might as well, since you'll find out anyway."
She nodded, frowning. "Is there something you're not telling me?" she asked, and he blinked at her in surprise. "I don't understand why this is such an issue by itself. Unless you think it's connected to the Karkaroff issue? Though I don't see why... And it is Krum reporting this, after all."
Potter shook his head, taking in a deep breath. "It is, sort of. But obviously something's up with Crouch, like we said. Krum says he was saying something about Karkaroff, like he was looking for him... And I... My scar's been hurting again. Last night and this morning. And I'm going to tell your dad that, too, but — don't tell anyone. Like Malfoy."
Aurora scoffed. "Potter, I don't sit around gossiping about you to Draco." And she would not tell Draco such a thing anyway. There was a growing list of things she couldn't talk to him about, things that scared her.
"I know," Potter grumbled, folding his arms. "Sorry for trying to give you a heads up, Black."
Rolling her eyes, Aurora picked up the pace and hurried down towards the dungeons, where she took her usual seat next to Pansy and tried to put it out of her mind so as to focus on not messing anything up and incurring Snape's wrath.
The worry sat in the back of her mind all weekend, and through Monday, when she had an afternoon Arithmancy class. Hermione Granger was already sat at their desk, wringing her hands.
"Did Harry tell you—"
"About Krum?" Aurora asked lightly, taking out her quill and revision notes. "He did. I'm sure there will be an answer somewhere."
"Maybe." Hermione did not appear convinced. Their readings for the day also were not helpful — they had been studying fate patterns in star movements, something rather akin to Astrology but far more precise and less personal, and the numbers all added up to violence and battle. The number seven kept appearing too, in every reading that Aurora did. Hermione's notes were much the same.
"These things can be imprecise," Hermione tried to reassure herself as they finished up. "This particular branch of study is far too close to Divination for my liking."
Aurora shook her head, ready to leave. "It is worrying, but so are a lot of things right now. I just want to focus on exams. Not whatever might be bothering Potter."
But when she headed towards the common room, she was met by Theodore and Daphne, fresh from their Divination class. "Merlin, that was a strange class," Daphne said. "If I never have to think about my dreams again, I'll be glad. Poor Potter's been shipped off to the Hospital Wing."
"He what?" Aurora asked, startled. "Why?"
This, coupled with what he had told her earlier? She wondered if he had written to her father yet, if he would want her to say or do anything.
"He fell asleep," Theodore told her, far more serious than Daphne's excited babble. It was the first he had spoken to her in some days. "But when he woke up, he seemed really disturbed. He was holding his forehead, like it hurt. That lecture and the heat would have sent anyone to sleep, though."
"Holding his forehead?" His scar, Aurora thought, with a sick feeling in her stomach. It had been hurting recently, but this seemed to have taken it to another level. Coupled with his nightmare during the summer, all flags were red. "Goodness. If you don't mind, I think I left something in Arithmancy."
Theodore clearly didn't believe her, but he just nodded at her insistent look and hurried away with Daphne. Aurora ducked into the nearest alcove she could find and opened up the Marauder's Map, which she always kept in her pocket. As she waited for the ink to form, she ran over what Potter had told her earlier, and her discussions with her father about Crouch and Karkaroff. Could it be coincidence? Most certainly not, she felt, and managed to find Potter's name in Professor Dumbledore's office.
She folded the map and hurried there. It would not take long, but if something was deeply wrong, she felt insistent that she ought to find out about it. For her father, not herself, or Potter. Certainly, she reminded herself, she didn't care what happened to him. He wasn't her real brother. But whatever was wrong with him, had implications for everyone, including herself. It was only right that she question him.
She caught him just as he was leaving the office. "Potter," she said sharply, calling to him before Granger and Weasley could get down the corridor towards him. "With me. I heard."
For a moment, he simply stared at her, face pale. He looked at her like he had never seen her before. "Aurora," he said eventually, blinking rapidly as he hurried over. "I — I'm sorry."
That had not been what she expected him to say. Her heart stopped as she anticipated the worst. There weren't many things he would have to apologise to her for, nothing that came from a vision or Dumbledore. Unless something had happened to her father.
"Why?" she asked, heart hammering. "What happened, Potter, what is it?
"Nothing," he said, "not really, I just... I saw Dumbledore's Pensieve." She frowned at him.
"His Pensieve?"
"It keeps his memories and shows you them—"
"I know what it does, Potter."
"He had a memory in it, of — of Karkaroff. He was giving names."
Oh. Her heart slowed and she let out a shaky breath, understanding. "I see."
"He said that someone called Travers had — had been the one to kill..."
"The McKinnons?" She nodded sharply, looking away. "I am aware."
"But aren't you friends with that Travers girl? Lucy?"
"Lucille. And it is complicated. So is everything right now. It was her uncle. She's never met him."
"But he killed them."
"I am aware of that, Potter."
He kept staring at her in a way that made her bristle, her skin crawl. "I'm sorry," he repeated and she shook her head.
"Save it, Potter. Let's get somewhere quiet. You can tell me why Theodore and Daphne told me your scar hurt you in Divination. The Owlery — my father will want to hear."
He nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. "That's where I was going to go. You — you don't have to come with me. You don't need me to tell you, I know you don't care."
"Not for your sake," she said stiffly, "but I still want to know."
He muttered the word nosey under his breath. Aurora scowled as they hurried to the Owlery, where he went in search of his snowy owl and Aurora followed, feeling at a loss. She watched him stroking the owl's feathers carefully, smiling. Then, he turned to her, frowning.
"I don't know if was really a dream," he said. "It — well, Trelawney seemed to think it was a vision. It felt real."
"Like the dream in summer?"
Potter nodded. "Like the dream in summer. Voldemort was there." Aurora winced at the name but he plowed on. "I was flying, on a bird, then I went into this house. He was telling someone that they had failed him, again, that they only had once last chance. He told them he expected more, that they — they needed to be more ruthless. More clever. There was a snake too, and there was a woman there... She was dying." Cold slipped through Aurora and she watched his face carefully, feeling sick. "Voldemort said he had to make more of an impression. He got — he made the snake kill the woman. And he laughed." It sent a shiver down her spine. "Then he cast the Cruciatus curse on the other man. He was screaming and screaming and my scar was just burning. All of me was burning." There was a dark, haunted look in his eyes. "I went to tell Dumbledore but he wasn't... He wasn't exactly helpful."
"I can't say I'm surprised. Did you see who the other man was?"
"If I did, I would have said so."
"I don't know that."
"You should," Potter said abruptly, then glared out over the grounds. "And don't tell me it's nothing again."
"I wasn't going to! I said already I believe you that this is something to worry about, Potter, stop putting words in my mouth from months ago."
"You might've." Potter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Do you have parchment? I need to tell Sirius."
Aurora grumbled about it, but she handed him a spare roll from her pocket, and he took out a quill and inkpot, leaning awkwardly against the ledge of the Owlery Tower. The note he scribbled was hasty, and when he was done he let out a sigh of relief and sagged against the ledge, eyes closed. "Dumbledore said he trusts Karkaroff," he said, "he thinks he's reformed. But I don't know."
"I wouldn't trust him. Not based on Dumbledore's say so. He isn't infallible. I still don't know how he could be connected to Crouch, though. But you did say, the other night, that Crouch was looking for Karkaroff?"
Potter nodded. "Maybe he knows something we don't. If my dream might be connected to Voldemort — because my scar is — then Karkaroff could have, I don't know... Gone back to him?"
"You said there was a man?"
"Not him, though."
"He could be disguised."
"Why would he disguise himself to Voldemort?"
Something cold slipped into her stomach. "Unless he's not. Unless someone else disguised themself as Karkaroff."
"But then where is Karkaroff?"
He had a point. "No, you're right," Aurora admitted, "Karkaroff was a Death Eater anyway, it's not like he's trustworthy. If you were going to impersonate someone, it would be someone above suspicion. And again — it was Karkaroff that Crouch was looking for."
"Well," Potter said, "Karkaroff does hate Crouch. Maybe he's hurt him, maybe he's threatening him with something... He has been kind of, I don't know, stressed-looking, hasn't he?"
Aurora hummed in agreement and leaned on the windowsill, staring out at the Hogwarts grounds. It was too nice a deal for contemplations of threats and conspiracy, but it seemed that was what their lives had come to.
"Still, it doesn't make sense to do it now, when the whole world is watching. They're both Triwizard judges, after all. Anytime they're together, they're also with Dumbledore, and Ludo Bagman, and Madam Maxime. If I was Karkaroff, and I wanted to kill Barty Crouch, I would have found him at the Quidditch Cup or some other big event — where you can slip into the crowd, maybe have enough people distracted by the match, or another diversion, and sneak him away. The Ministry's security detail on people like him is surprisingly slight." Potter stared at her. "Tell me I'm wrong?"
"Please don't try to murder someone, Black."
"Who says I haven't already?" she asked sweetly, but the humour faded quickly in the context. "Listen, I think you're onto something, Potter. I just wish I could understand how."
Potter nodded, not really looking at anything. An owl squawked at them, perturbed, and Aurora shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't a fan of the silence.
"If that's all," she said, "I'll go."
"Right." Potter straightened up and blinked at her. "Ron'll wonder where I've gotten to anyway."
"I'm sure Granger will be fretting. Our Arithmancy readings were very doom and gloom today."
He snorted. "Hermione doesn't believe in doom and gloom."
"She did say it was too similar to Divination."
Potter looked like he was trying not to smile for his friend's sake, as they headed down the steps of the Owlery together.