Green Light in the Dark

by AStrangeHopefulDreamer

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

99. Treacherous Tasks

Exams began in earnest the next week, and Aurora had never been more grateful for her father. Not having to worry about and deal with all the letters she received meant that she could breathe, that she could make more time to study but also to relax. She had taken two nights off to just sit with her friends, gossiping and playing gobstones or exploding snap, and had realised how much she had missed it, the freedom to just smile. So much still played on her mind but at least for now, she gave herself permission to ignore it.

She had not actually told any of her friends besides Theodore about her father and Andromeda taking over her duties for the time being. Theo, she had told because he had thought to check in on her that day. He had not seen her in the library, or in the common room, and had apparently been concerned enough about her well-being to ask where she had been. It was sweet. What was even better was that, everytime she did receive a letter, or seemed about to dive into political anxiety, he would remind her that she didn't have to worry about that at the moment, and would help guide her onto something else, with a knowing look.

The morning of her Ancient Runes exam, a few days before the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, Rita Skeeter struck again. Aurora had taken to boycotting Skeeter's articles recently, only borrowing the Daily Prophet from Theo or an older student once they were done, but on this day Theo happened to be sat beside her at breakfast, and pointed out an article to her.

HARRY POTTER - DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS

She sucked in a breath. Already she knew this would not be good. It bore Skeeter's name in the byline of course, and her personal touch of flair. Nothing too dreary as to focus solely on the election campaign, but just tenuously enough connected to current events that she could generate a spin and an audience and have the world eating up whatever poison-coated nonsense she fed them.

Reading made her feel sick. She knew too much, just as Aurora and Hermione had discussed. She knew about Potter's bad dreams and his scar paining him, claimed to know about his personal heartaches and relationships. Skeeter, for whatever end — most likely drama, and some petty revenge — was trying to make him out to be some sort of deranged child who should be trusted nowhere political power. Apparently, though, Skeeter had witnessed Potter leaving the Divination classroom that day he had had his terrible dream. It felt like much longer ago than it had been.

But, that did not make sense. Aurora's mind ticked over it. She said that she had witnessed it herself, but that was impossible unless she had been there — someone would have noticed, and she felt certain Theodore would have told her if Skeeter had been hanging about. Then there was the issue of someone revealing Potter's Parselmouth abilities. The article did not mention who, only that an anonymous source had told her Potter could speak to snakes, something Skeeter ran with to make him look dangerous, suggesting he could be a future Dark Lord in the making.

For all Aurora disliked Potter, she knew — as she felt anyone who had ever properly payed attention to the boy should — that he had no such designs. That article did lead Aurora to ask who Skeeter feared Potter giving an endorsement to, but what truly rattled her was that Skeeter had been able to so confidently change her opinion on Potter, to go against his reputation. She must think she had power and away. She must know her word counted for more than not only the truth but public preconception, and the public's own eyes and ears.

That scared her.

It was also why she had turned around even before Hermione Granger reached her across the hall. The Gryffindor girl stopped just shy of her, a stony look in her eye. Beside Aurora, Theo tensed, and she gave a quick glance which she hoped he understood as meaning it was alright.

"Black," Granger said quickly, her voice quivering, "er... Ancient Runes emergency."

"Oh, dear."

Granger gave her a queasy sort of look, and Aurora sighed, exaggerating the sound as she reached to pick up her bookbag. They had an exam right after breakfast, but that was alright. Aurora knew she'd do just fine. "Gryffindors and their dramatics," she said to Theodore, who laughed nervously. "I'll be back."

But as the two of them stalked out the hall — well, Aurora stalked, Hermione more cantered along like a frightened deer — Aurora felt rather dramatic herself. "Where does this leave us?"

"She can't have been close enough to Harry to hear what happened in that classroom. Either someone told her and she's somehow pulled the rest of the details out her own head, or she was there."

"An Invisibility Cloak, do you think? But how would she know something was going to happen?"

"Maybe she was following Harry."

"Even with both of us as targets, too?"

"Maybe she got lucky. I don't know. But she must have been there, I just don't know how. That room is tiny, you'd notice another body even if you couldn't see it. Most Invisibility Cloaks aren't that perfect."

"Potter's is."

"Harry still walks into people," Granger replied, as they hurried up the main staircase. "Speaking of, he and Ron are meeting us in the second floor broom cupboard."

"Why the broom cupboard?"

"I don't know, it felt like the natural place to meet."

"That's... Distressing."

"Be thankful it's not Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"What?"

"Nothing — inside joke, we brewed Polyjuice Potion in second years, don't tell anyone but it is really a wonderful place to meet—"

"Sorry, you brewed what? As second years?" She galloped to keep pace with Granger, who was rushing, clearly flustered, and letting her words get the better of it as a result. "You mean you brewed it, right? Not those two? That's really advanced — oh, Merlin!"

It had struck her suddenly. Polyjuice Potion was used to change one's appearance. That had surely been what Potter and Weasley had used to sneak into the common room, disguised as Vincent and Greg, all those years ago. It was highly illegal and restricted and anything could have gone wrong.

"Oh, the little—"

"Not now, Black — but you don't think..." Granger trailed off and turned to look at Aurora, whose mind was catching up to Hermione's just as fast as she got over the shock of the previous revelation.

"Skeeter using Polyjuice? It's a possibility — but it surely can't be very sustainable. Has anyone been acting out of character?"

"Not that I can think of... We'll have to ask the boys. It is illegal, isn't it?"

"You would know," Aurora muttered, causing Hermione to pale. "Oh, calm down, I dealt with it back then already. And we've bigger problems now."

Granger looked relieved for a minute as they hurried along the corridor, but confusion dawned just before she turned and asked. "What do you mean, you dealt with it?"

Aurora waved a hand. "You don't ask about my crimes, and I won't bring up the list of yours."

This did not seem to appease Granger at all, but Aurora found a faint amusement in that knowledge as she tugged her down the corridor towards the nearest broom cupboard. When she went to open the door, someone squawked inside, and she sighed.

"Calm down, Weasley, it's just us."

The door opened a crack, to reveal Ron Weasley's pale face, and light eyes that were narrowed in suspicion. Aurora tapped her foot on the stones, as Granger said, "Just let us in, Ron. She's not going to fight you."

Weasley did not look convinced. Aurora rolled her eyes — despite her relationship somewhat smoothing over with the other two, Weasley remained distrustful of her. Though, she supposed, she had not done much to win him round separately, nor had her feelings towards him changed much. Still, some alliances were more important than feelings of friendship.

Aurora slipped inside the dark cupboard, and gave a cursory nod to Potter, who was clutching the Daily Prophet tightly in his hand. Hermione shut the door behind them and silence fell.

"Well?" Aurora said, to break the quiet. "What do you think of the article, Potter?"

He stared up at her. "That it's all bullshit."

"Very good." She took a seat on an upturned bucket, as daintily as she could manage. "Do you know how she saw you leave the classroom?"

"If I did," Potter retorted, "do you think I wouldn't have said something?"

She sighed and looked to Weasley, who shrugged. "I didn't see anything. Nor did Neville — we bumped into him on the way up here. I don't suppose you know anything about how she's getting all these interviews."

Aurora eyed him with distaste. "Weasley, need I remind you that Skeeter has also attacked me on multiple occasions? Don't suggest that I have any involvement just because you dislike me and are out of other options to blame."

"It's not that," Weasley told her, ears flaming, "but me and Harry were talking and we're pretty sure it's your mate Malfoy that's been leaking."

Both Hermione and Potter sucked on nervous breaths. Potter did not look at her, but rather wore a sheepish expression. It seemed he had not wanted Ron to say that. Nor had Aurora. The thought turned her stomach.

"I don't know how you've come to that conclusion," she said crisply, "given that all Skeeter's sources are anonymous — apart from, I may say, your own housemate, Colin Creevey."

"He talked to her 'bout Hagrid," Weasley said, "and we've seen him, and Crabbe and Goyle, talking to... Something."

"Something." She arched a skeptical brow, feigning disinterest, but her stomach was squirming. She would have liked to be able to write off Weasley's suspicions as nonsense, the mindless spouting of a boy who would blame any wrong he could on his enemy, but she could not deny that Draco had spoken to Skeeter before. And, that if Skeeter was trying to defame Potter, and if she had any political motivations — or rather, if her clients did — said motivations would align rather nicely with those of Lord Malfoy.

Still, she was not going to believe Weasley's words, not about her own cousin. She knew Draco. She had told him not to talk to Skeeter and his name had not shown up since.

But someone had been talking to her.

"It's not Draco," she said as confidently as she could. Hermione eyed her warily, as if she knew Aurora was afraid to admit to the possibility, and all that it entailed. "And that's beside the point. Skeeter's a menace and she needs to be stopped. We need to find some dirt on her. Does anyone know about her family?" They all stared at her. Evidently not. She massaged her temples. "Her background, her schooldays? There must be something she's hiding, even if it's a political connection. Maybe someone is giving her targets."

"I think she just likes scandal," Hermione said, "I don't think she cares who it's about. She'll drag down anyone whose reputation she can sully, just for money and attention." A scowl crossed her face. "And she wants to get this all out now, so that she can get another story for the tournament, or after. She knows she'll be able to snoop about then, and she's just building a foundation — whether it's Harry or me or you, Aurora."

She could not deny the convincing truth in Hermione's words. "All we know so far," Hermione went on, "is that she has some method of having both eyes and ears in Hogwarts. And that someone — or perhaps multiple people — know what that is, because they have used it to communicate with her. It must be some sort of telecommunication device, but phones and that sort of thing don't work at Hogwarts... I don't know any magical alternatives."

"So there are others complicit," Aurora said slowly, a piece of vindictive excitement building inside of her, "more people who might be part of a network, a conspiracy..." Against the two new wildcards in the Assembly, and against the Muggleborn who dared befriend one of them. "This could be bigger than Skeeter, you realise? With the right information, we could blow the whole thing apart."

Weasley looked almost amused by her enthusiasm and she thought maybe he shared in the excitement at the concept. Granger, though, worried her lip and looked to Potter, who was staring at the bottle of disinfectant above Aurora's head. "We need to find out how she's doing this first of all," Granger said, "and then from there, find her contacts."

"I say contacts first," Aurora argued, meeting Granger's eye. And at once, the two of them silently agreed to disgree. So long as it was done. "But I want to know who Skeeter is. Any potential debts, anyone who might hold undue influence over her. If there are more people behind this, working with her... Well, if they're willing to bring us down, I've no qualms about taking them down with her, too."

Potter met her gaze and held it. "Good," he said, voice hard. "So long as you're willing to accept whoever those people might turn out to be."

She did not like the subtle dig, the implication that Draco was one of those people. And so she tried to push her own concerns away and smile at him.

"Granger and I have an exam in fifteen minutes. We'll get started at lunch."

-*

It became immediately clear over the next few days that Rita Skeeter had cleaned up any dirt that may have been gathering behind her. Aurora and Hermione had scoured student records and only found that she had good marks as a student, best in Transfiguration and Charms. She had never been accused of cheating even once, to Aurora's consternation — it had been the charge she had most anticipated her attracting — and from the one graduation report which she managed to salvage from Filch's office when he had been coincidentally distracted by a flood on the first floor, all anyone held against her was her gossiping ways, and the odd bit of embellishment when she or her friends got into trouble. None of her close peers at Hogwarts were even questionable, or well-known, for the most part.

There, they had hit a wall.

"There will be something," Aurora had said to Hermione as the four of them sat in that awful broom cupboard, on the evening before their final exam and the Third Task of the tournament. "I know there will."

Neither of the boys looked like they believed her; only Hermione looked like she wanted to. With no one else bringing anything to the table, Aurora knew it was time to leave. She still had some names and dates which she wanted to revise for History of Magic tomorrow. So Weasley and Granger went out first, and Aurora and Potter followed when the coast was clear.

It was only a five minute walk before they could part ways, but those five minutes were still painful. Potter broke the silence by asking, "You excited for tomorrow?"

She stared at him. "I like History of Magic, but not that much."

"Not that." He let out a troubled sigh and she laughed. "The tournament."

"I knew what you meant," Aurora teased with a small smile. "And yes, I suppose so. I just hope it's more interesting to watch than the last task."

"You rooting for Diggory?"

She shrugged. "I know I should say yes, but really my favourite's Delacour. Don't get me wrong," she added hastily at the reproachful expression on Potter's face, "my visible support will of course be for Hogwarts' most esteemed champion. But if Delacour wins, I can't say I'll be disappointed."

"Suppose," Potter said. "I'm Diggory all the way — would have been Krum, but, y'know... Ron."

She stifled a laugh. "He really is jealous, isn't he?"

Potter did not deign to reply. An attempt to maintain his friend's honour, no doubt.

"I've been asked to sit up front," he told her quite suddenly, a frown creasing his forehead. "To watch. McGonagall told me today, apparently Crouch requested it himself. He thought it'd be a good look for the press, even after what Skeeter said, but he doesn't seem too bothered about that, which I guess is a good sign? And for whatever reason, Dumbledore agrees."

"Dumbledore doesn't care about the press."

"I think he wants to be able to keep an eye on me. But, anyway, I wouldn't normally bother — I'd much rather sit with Ron and Hermione — but it'll mean that I can keep an eye on Skeeter, whatever she does. I'm sure she'll be there."

"Hm. Well, make sure you do. Are Granger and Weasley sitting with you?"

"A couple of rows behind - I'm in the space reserved for champions families and Ministry people."

They really were pulling out the stops. She wondered what Crouch's concerns were, where they came from. She wanted to unravel everything, but she couldn't right now.

"Well," Aurora said as they approached the staircase at the corner, where she would head down the dungeons and he up to Gryffindor Tower, "try to enjoy it at any rate. And mess with Skeeter, if you can."

He grinned in response but Aurora couldn't shake the unease in her chest.

-*

The next day dawned brightly but Aurora was overcome by a sense of deep foreboding. Her dream the night before had been of Bellatrix Lestrange, the red light of the Cruciatus curse and the green of the Killing Curse, and the sound of her cackle rang in her ears all through the three hours she spent writing about goblin rebellions.

The end of exams was a relief, and she spent the afternoon down in the dungeons with her friends, chatting about everything except the assessments, playing many rounds of Exploding Snap, before joyously eating her way through all the food that had been laid for the tournament feast at dinner. Viktor Krum's parents were visiting for the final task, sitting at the Slytherin Table and surrounded by interested people. Karkaroff, at the High Table, looked deeply anxious, holding his left arm. That concerned her too. There was definitely a significance to whatever he had shown Snape, but now Karkaroff appeared worried, and that worried her too.

When the time came for the champions to head down to the Quidditch Pitch where the final task would be taking place, Aurora couldn't help but feel nervous, too. She cheered loudly for Diggory, of course, who was flushed from all the attention, and from the kiss Cho Chang gave him on his way off, which Harry Potter looked particularly bitter about.

Pansy linked their arms together as they hurried towards the pitch. Rare was it to find any Slytherin bearing Hufflepuff colours, but both had put on sparkly yellow eye glitter for the occasion, showing some school pride. The excitement was palpable in the air, everyone yelling and cheering the names of their respective champions, though Diggory's supporters drastically drowned out all the others.

They all gathered in the stands, Aurora and her friends shunted near to the stairs down. Their view was mainly of the judges' table, and the top of shadowy hedges which she could hardly see into. The judges were all seated apart from Bagman — Dumbledore excited, Karkaroff stern and anxious, Maxine austere but curious, and Crouch stern, his face blank. Close to them, the champions' families and various photographers and reporters sat, Harry Potter among them and looking intensely uncomfortable about it. She felt a twinge of sympathy, especially when she saw the way Rita Skeeter's gaze roamed over him, like all she saw was another juicy scandal to sink her claws into.

Then there came the four teachers, with bright red stars on their hats, who soon set off around the maze, patrolling. Ludo Bagman bounded out to the front of the maze, beaming as the sky began to darken behind him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to commence! Let me tell you how the points currently stand! In first place, Mr. Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute, with seventy five points! In second place, Mr. Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts School, with seventy-three points! And finally, in third place, Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy, with sixty points!" Aurora cheered for her possibly even louder than she had for Diggory — in her opinion, Delacour deserved far higher marks in the first task, if not the second. The judges were just unfair because they'd decided she was soft. "In just a moment, one by one, our champions will enter this maze! At the heart, lies the Triwizard Cup. The first to the cup wins the Tournament. Mr Krum will go first, on my whistle! One — two — three!"

Filch fired a cannon and the crowd cheered as Krum gave a short, sullen wave and then ran into the maze. The hedges closed behind him, swallowing him up, and Diggory and Delacour both started pacing.

"Bets?" Draco asked round, frowning. "I'm going for Krum."

"Of course you are," Aurora sighed. "I'll put a galleon on Fleur just because I like her, and two on Diggory because I think he's most likely."

"You can't bet on two people!" Draco protested. "It's unfair."

"I'll go Delacour, too," Theodore said. "Two galleons, Draco."

Pansy sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. "Diggory's the obvious winner. I'll put three galleons on him."

"Exciting," Gwen muttered.

"Well, what would you do, Tearston?" Draco asked, slightly sneering. Aurora frowned at him, but was distracted by the sound of the cannon firing again and Diggory heading into the maze, to cheers which drowned out anything Draco was about to say.

"I wish we could actually see," Theodore muttered, squinting through the growing dark. "What is with this tournament?"

"At least it isn't February this time," Aurora said, looking down at the judges, the faint dark shapes crawling through the maze, and at the figures with red stars patrolling the edges of the hedges. The final cannon sent Fleur into the maze, and then they were left waiting tensely, trying to make out the spellfire. Some lit up the whole arena, others sparked and spat and then fizzled out so quickly that one might have imagined them entirely. There came the occasional shout, a cry, a shrill scream, but as the night grew closer and darker, and the shadows of the maze grew longer, the task quickly became duller.

Then, an hour or so in, someone screamed. It sounded like Fleur Delacour — red sparks went up from her wand. But there was another lingering red light that turned her stomach. That of the Cruciatus. It lit the arena up again and then people started screaming, and Fleur did to. The patrolling teachers ran forward, their red hat lights pressing through the hedges, and then the judges got to their feet too, running, as that same red light lit up not far from Fleur, and Krum let out a yell. The press pushed forwards from their seats as the judges scattered.

"What's happening?" Aurora asked, leaning over the stands, her heart in her throat. "Has Krum cast a Cruciatus?"

"It can't be Krum!" Draco insisted. "It looked like there was another one over there, he's too far away."

"Well, it couldn't be Diggory!"

"Maybe they have duellists in the maze," Pansy suggested, but she too looked pale, and leaned over the stands with Aurora. Down below, Dumbledore was looking up, motioning and bellowing for students to get back, for people were craning over the stands to try and catch a glimpse of what was happening. The commotion and confusion made nausea stir in Aurora again, and her whole being went cold. Something was wrong. She could feel it in the air, see it in the shadows of the maze through which Death roamed, taunting her.

"All is well!" Bagman insisted loudly. "Just a little hitch — Miss Delacour will be fine."

Aurora doubted that. After a Cruciatus Curse, one could not ever simply be fine.

"I don't like this," she murmured, as the crowd died down and the patrollers retreated. Moody slipped to the right, McGonagall to the left. Dumbledore, Bagman, and Madam Maxime all returned to their seats, but Crouch appeared somewhat stuck, staring at the maze.

And Karkaroff. Karkaroff was gone.

Aurora tried to rationalise it, thinking he had gone to investigate Krum. Maybe he had been sent somewhere and she hadn't noticed, or maybe he was caught in the still swarming crowd at the front benches, where the journalists were teeming and clamouring for a story, and champions' families demanding to know what had just happened. She peered down at the dark maze, at the front of which the judges were still speaking, trying to comfort Fleur Delacour's little sister, who was loudly protesting in French that her sister be retrieved at once.

"Where's Karkaroff?" she asked, as Theodore came to her side, lips pulled in a tight frown. There was another bright burst of light which distracted the judges and everyone else. A wave of heat and light reverberated out from within the centre of the maze, rocking the foundations beneath the stands, and her question was lost in the commotion.

Maybe Karkaroff was only helping out in the maze and that was why she couldn't see him. She tried to rationalise it, though her heart was pounding.

Something touched upon her shoulder. Death's deep shadow lingered behind her, cold. He did not speak, not in company, but she knew he was there. Warning her.

But of what, she wondered. She looked around, trying to spy anyone who shouldn't be there, anyone unwell. Her own heart went faster, she felt sick to her stomach, and thought back to her dream the night before, Bellatrix Lestrange's wild eyes and cackle burning through her. Death pressed upon her.

"You know it already," he said quietly. "You see her."

She did not reply. She could not reply. Aurora clutched her wand, shaking it from her sleeve, as the judges continued moving, clearly disturbed by the previous commotion.

"I really can't see Karkaroff," Gwen said, worrying her bottom lip. "Can you?"

Aurora shook her head. "Robin?" He did the same.

"Draco?" Her cousin turned sharply. "Can you see Karkaroff anywhere?"

He frowned. "No, why? I thought he'd be down with the judges."

"But he isn't."

Draco blinked, and then swept forward, looking over the railing of the stands. He swore lightly. "You're right. I can't see him either. He can't have gone anywhere."

"What about Snape?" Her voice hitched, picked up just as her fear did. "Draco?"

"He — I think he's patrolling, isn't he?"

Aurora didn't know. All four hats were still there but she started second guessing herself as she sat down, heart pounding, waiting for the time to pass, waiting for someone else to realise something was wrong. She was sure there had been four patrols, but what if there were five? What if something happened, Karkaroff up to something, and she had missed it?

She waited in panicked, suspended silence, as the tournament went on, as the swarm of journalists and panicked spectators cleared near the judges' table. It became clear that Karkaroff had indeed disappeared.

And then, she realised, cold fear clutching at her, that Potter was gone, too.

"Can you see Potter?" she asked Theodore in a low whisper, too afraid to ask anyone else. Her body has gone rigid, her thoughts stalled.

Theo's keen eyes roamed over the stands. "Where's he meant to be?"

"With the press and the champions' families, and the Ministry... By the judges' table."

And slowly, Theo shook his head. Turning, Aurora could see Hermione and Ron starting to push their way through the crowd, faces clearly panicked as they trampled over grumbling spectators. Her stomach flipped.

"Karkaroff's taken him," she said quickly, reeling. "He must have — and I thought — but Crouch — shit."

"He might be with Granger and Weasley."

"No, no, they're looking for him, too." Her breath quickened. This could not be happening, she could not have taken so long to see it happening. It had been fifteen minutes since that curse went off, and he was gone. In the crush and the chaos, Karkaroff must have seized an opportunity. To do what, she did not know, and she hoped that she would never have to.

With the power that was now radiating from the maze, the chaos on the ground started up again. Someone started screaming, and was quickly shushed by Crouch.

"I'm sure Potter's alright..."

"He isn't." She knew it in her gut, and she hated herself and the world for what she had to say now, "Theo, I have to go."

"What? Where?"

"I don't know, but Potter's gone and — something terrible is about to happen. I just know it."

And Theo, who had always had a knack for Divination and a faith in it that she had struggled to comprehend, stared at her. Then he nodded. "What do you need us to do?" he asked, for Gwen and Robin were unsubtly listening in, too.

"Cover for me," she said, "and maybe pray a little."

She squeezed Gwen's hand, trying not to show the fear that was thrumming in her chest, and turned to head down the stairs of the stand.

After a moment, she heard footsteps behind her and turned, seeing Theo.

"If you think there's danger," he said, "it's stupid to go off alone."

"It's stupid of you to try and come with me, if that's what you're thinking of doing."

Theo glared at her, hurrying down the few steps to meet her. "Don't try and argue with me, Black."

"Oh, calling me by my surname now, are we?"

"Lady Black," he corrected, and though he tried to play it off as light, Aurora could not bring herself to do the same.

"Theo, I'm serious. Something has been brewing all year and it's dangerous and I..."

"You what? Have to go in yourself, trying to fix everyone else's problems while refusing help for your own?"

"I do not—"

"How many times have you put yourself in danger because of Harry Potter?"

"I don't do anything because of Harry Potter—"

"And how many times has someone here put themselves in danger to help you?"

She stared at him. "Theo, this isn't about me."

A hard look came into his eye as he came to her side. "I'm coming with you anyway."

Knowing that there was no point in arguing and wasting more time, Aurora sighed and drew the Marauder's Map out of her pocket. "Fine, then, but keep up." She whispered to the map, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," and then charged down the stairs, Theo hot on her heels. Never before had she felt there were so many steps to get up and down these Quidditch stands, and never before had she felt the map took so painfully long to reveal itself.

But just as she stepped down the final steps and hurried out towards the maze, someone grabbed her arm.

Aurora let out a shriek, lashing out, before hearing the words, "Aurora, it's me!"

Granger. She relaxed and pushed out into the light so she could actually get a look at Hermione and Ron, both of whom looked to be in great distress.

"Have you seen Harry?" Hermione asked, and when Aurora shook her head, she trembled.

"He's gone. We thought maybe he had come to find you, if he'd seen something strange, but..."

"But you didn't really," Aurora said, "did you?"

Weasley nodded over her shoulder. "Who's this?"

Aurora glanced back at Theo and then glared at Weasley. "Theodore Nott. Do try to be more observant, Weasley — when did you last see Potter?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, a hopeless sort of whine in her voice, "before the red sparks went up, I suppose?"

Confirming her fears. Aurora's stomach turned as she looked down at the map in her hands. There was no sign of Potter.

"And Karkaroff?" Theo asked from behind her.

Granger and Weasley whipped around as one to look at the judges' table, from which the Durmstrang headmaster was conspicuously absent.

"I wasn't paying attention," Granger said, voice aghast. "Oh, God..."

Aurora turned her attention to the map, heart pounding. There were too many people in the Quidditch stands for her to make out Potter's name, but she couldn't see Karkaroff either. Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick and Moody all were roaming the outside of the maze, and Diggory, Delacour and Krum were inside of it.

Her father had never said that specific names could be searched for and she felt that he would have told her if that was a feature of the map. But she took a chance and said quietly, "Show me Harry Potter."

The map warmed in her hands, but there was no sign of him. Frustrated, terrified, she said again, "Show me Igor Karkaroff."

Again, there was nothing. It didn't mean anything, she told herself, not necessarily. But it didn't reassure her, at any rate. She looked up at Granger and Weasley, panicked, and said, "I can't see either of them. That doesn't mean they're gone, but, if we can't see them here, and they're so lost in the crowd — because I can see they're not in the castle or anywhere else on the grounds..."

The most sensible course of action would be to tell Dumbledore, she knew that. But that meant going near Crouch, and surely, she thought, Dumbledore would have noticed Karkaroff disappearing. She didn't want to go anywhere near to Barty Crouch.

Weasley and Granger started calling his name, and Aurora tugged them back. "We have to tell Dumbledore. Something's wrong, he can tell already..." He was distracted by a commotion at the front of the maze — all the judges were. A firecracker went off, the sound of it snapping into the air.

Professor Moody, she thought suddenly. Moody must know what to do, would be able to help. She made a start towards the edge of the maze, Theodore close behind, while Granger and Weasley darted in the other direction, making a beeline for Dumbledore, who was standing with Bagman and Madam Maxime.

Moody was the nearest on patrol anyway, she realised looking at the map, and he was just around the corner, but Crouch — Crouch was in her way.

She looked up sharply and stuffed the parchment in her pocket as he turned towards her, face emotionless. "You are not supposed to be here," he said.

"We need to speak to Professor Moody," she said, "it is a matter of some urgency."

"I'll take a message," Crouch told her stiffly.

Behind her, Theodore tensed, but Crouch's gaze washed over him like he was nothing.

"It has to come from me."

"You have no authority here," he said. "Who are you?"

She blinked in surprise, which turned quickly to anger. How dare he pretend that he did not know who she was, she thought. "Excuse me?" She let out a breathy laugh. "Mr Crouch, I suggest that you let me past." He raised his eyebrows, raised his wand, and her heart pounded. "I am Lady Black."

"I cannot let you pass."

She itched for her wand, but there were people about, and hexing Mr Crouch would not help her case at all. Gritting her teeth, she tried a different tactic, her least favourite.

"Please," she whined, "I'm just — worried, is all, about the champions. Professor Moody knows what's happening, and he said the task would be of use to me anyway, for my Defense class. He all but suggested — and I need to see him." She widened her eyes, the puppy-eyes expression which she dearly hoped would work. Surely her father's dog-like tendencies would carry over into something useful to her.

But Crouch's face was as impassive as ever, even if she did detect the tiniest hints of doubt flickering behind him, a reluctance.

"These are the rules," he said, stepping forward. "Return to your seat, Black."

Fuming, she turned, but Theo was still staring at Crouch, his mouth set in a hard line. Suspicion was written across his features. "Mr. Crouch," he started, "when did you last see Professor Karkaroff?"

Crouch's eyes narrowed. His gaze whipped to the judges' table and back again. "Professor Karkaroff is no doubt assisting the judges with the chaos over there."

"But when did you last see him?"

"Some... Some time ago." The distance in his voice set her on edge. "I do not make a habit of conversing with Karkaroff, nor following his movement. Now, return to your seats."

He gripped Aurora's arm tightly, and she flinched. Theodore darted forward, eyes flashing. "Let her—"

Crouch dropped her arm. "Return to your seats," he repeated in that clipped voice and then turned, backing into the shadows.

They stared after him. "He's hiding something," Aurora said, but Theodore's brow was furrowed, as though he suspected there was more to it.

"I don't like it."

"Come on."

Neither of them had intentions of returning to their seats, not now, even more unsettled. Instead they slinked back into the shadows beneath the stands, Aurora eyeing Skeeter and the rest of the press at the front of the crowd with disdain.

She could spy Granger and Weasley speaking lowly, not far from where Dumbledore was in low and anxious conversation with Madam Maxime and Ludo Bagman. Minutes ticked by, agonising, terrifying, as Crouch wandered aimlessly with his fellow judges, waiting. Every minute, she checked the map, but there was no sign of Potter, no sign of Karkaroff. With every minute that went by, she felt more and more ill, until at last Dumbledore returned to Weasley and Granger and then to her and Theo, who had been wringing his hands together anxiously and muttering under his breath, seeming perplexed by the whole situation.

In grand robes of bright violet, Dumbledore came over to them, face stony and eyes bright not with his usual amusement and charm, but with deep fear. Aurora stepped forward, tugging Theodore with her. There was only a small frown to indicate that Dumbledore found the pairing odd — they had bigger things to worry about.

"I assume you have not yet located Mr Potter?"

She held back the bitter obviously that lingered on the top of her tongue. "No, Professor. We don't know when he disappeared — last any of us saw of him was before Fleur Delacour sent up those red sparks."

"Might I check this map of yours?"

She bristled at the insinuation that she could not read it correctly, but she swallowed her pride and showed Dumbledore. At her shoulder, Theodore tensed. "Sorry," she whispered to him, and the headmaster pretended not to hear. Her friend was clearly uncomfortable with the turn of events, and kept glancing over his shoulder at Crouch.

When Dumbledore handed back the map, she pursed her lips and asked, "Well? Don't you have any idea what has happened?"

"I sincerely wish that I did."

"Karkaroff's gone, too."

"It seems that is so." He seemed far too calm. "But we must not make a scene before the press. Rita Skeeter, I feel, is looking at us very closely."

She was. Aurora did not want to care. In fact, at that moment, she found that she could not. "What we must do," Dumbledore went on, "is to remain alert. The moment anyone spies either Harry or Igor, we must go to them."

And he stood by them, watching. He was more scared than he let on, Aurora thought; she could see it in the tension of his shoulders and the set of his eyes and the pale of his face across which shadows and lines seemed more deeply drawn than usual. By Aurora's side, Theo was tense, but if he was re-evaluating his decision to join her, he was loathe to admit it.

She kept her eyes on the map as Theo said, "You really think Karkaroff's taken him?"

"I think it would make sense if he had."

He pursed his lips, and said in a low tone, so that the others couldn't hear, "My grandfather is friendly with him."

"Do you think he would hurt Potter?"

He took a moment to reply. "I don't know. I'm not sure I know a lot of my grandfather's acquaintances well enough to know what they wouldn't do."

That unsettled her. The revelation seemed to startle Theodore himself, too, by the uncertain look in his eye. Aurora spared him a sympathetic glance, then turned back to her map as the minutes ticked by, as Dumbledore paced and eventually went to talk to some of the guests from the Ministry again, and Granger and Weasley whispered, just separated from the two Slytherins.

Aurora did not keep track of the time well, but it had been quite a while before her monotonous silence was broken. She startled as a cheer went up from the crowd, accompanied by a flash of bright light as Cedric Diggory appeared, holding the cup, victorious.

But Dumbledore was not smiling. Aurora's heart pounded as she met his eyes and kept to the shadows of the stands as people started pouring down, cheering Diggory. His father reached him first, clapping him on the back and beaming, and Ludo Bagman looked beside himself with excitement, torn away from whatever conversation he had been having.

"You should go," she told Theo, "they'll start looking for you."

"They'll be looking for you, too."

She shook her head. "If something happens..."

Aurora's attention waned as her eyes fell back on the map and the little dot that had appeared right at the edge of the grounds, in the passage that led from the Shrieking Shack.

Harry Potter.

"I've found him," she said, so faintly none of them heard her at first.

Her heart pounded impossibly loud in her ears. She did not know how long it had been, except that it had been far, far too long. She looked up, meeting Theo's eyes. "He's in the passage to the shack."

This meant little to Theo, who had never been t the Shrieking Shack, and to whom it seemed she had never mentioned the passage that ran from the Whomping Willow to the decrepit building. But Granger gasped and grabbed Weasley's hand, her eyes shining with both relief and a renewed fear. The two of them took off before Aurora could say more, going to tell Dumbledore, but with trembling hands, she knew they had to act faster.

She turned sharply to Theo and said, "Cover for me?"

"You can't just charge into danger—"

"It's only Potter that's there, I've checked, and the map doesn't lie. But everyone will be leaving soon, and Draco will wonder where I've gone and—"

"And you're still worried what he thinks of it, right now?"

She stared at him, surprised by the question. "Aren't you?" she shot back, and to that he had no reply. "Please, just..." She looked back over her shoulder, to where Granger and Weasley had been swallowed by the crowd. "I have to find out what happened."

And she ran off before he could protest any more.

The run between the Quidditch Pitch was seven minutes at Aurora's best, ten if she was trying a light jog. The time between the Shrieking Shack and the Whomping Willow was approximately a fifteen minute walk, but if one was scared and desperate enough, a run could take ten minutes.

Aurora could see from the pace of Potter's dot that he was, indeed, desperate. As she ran, she was hardly aware of the footsteps behind her, only knowing who they belonged to because she could see them on the map — Granger and Weasley and Dumbledore. If she had her broom, she would have been quicker, but she was not. All she could allow herself to focus on was the ground beneath her feet as she tore over rocks and twigs and mulchy leaves, heading under cover of dusk towards the Whomping Willow.

As she approached, something strange happened. Silver light bloomed against the darkness of the sky and the bushes, and as it grew and came closer, she could see what it was. The shape of a great stag. Potter's Patronus. A call for help.

She hastened on, and so did the others behind her. Gripping her wand tightly, she cried out, "Expecto Patronum!" and hoped that the darting white fox would reassure Potter until they got to him.

Coming to the tree, Aurora searched for a stick to prod the knob at the tree's base, but could not make any out in the dim light. Annoyed, she cast an illuminating charm with her wand, scanning the ground. The tree branches swung for her and she darted out the way, heart pounding.

Theo's hand clasped around her own as he tugged her away from the tree, just narrowly dodging another branch.

"Hell, you're a fast runner — Are you mad?"

"No, help me find a long stick."

"You what?"

"Theo!"

Cheeks flushed, Theo stared at her. "What do you need a stick for?"

"To get the tree to still, there's a knob..."

"A knob?"

"Yes, and Potter's down there and..."

The tree stilled. She halted, hanging back with bated breath, afraid of what she was going to see as Harry Potter clambered out, deathly pale and trembling like nothing she had ever seen before.

"Help," was all he said in a broken voice. "Help, you have to — he's dying."

Aurora took a cautious step forward, heart pounding. Potter still had the Hogwarts crest painted on one cheek, but the paint had run, streaked by what looked like tears. And there was blood smeared on one cheek, a red impact mark blooming on the other.

"Potter?" she said quietly, hardly daring to breathe. Behind her, Theo was silent.

He stumbled forward and met her eyes. "Aurora," he said, voice hoarse. "Aurora... He — he's back."

"Back?" There was only one person that could be, one person whose return he would speak of with such dread in his voice. "Who's back?" He stared at her. "Potter?" Another blank look. "Harry?"

"Karkaroff." She blinked. "No, I mean — Karkaroff's dying."

"Potter, I'm confused—"

"Voldemort's back! He — he was going to kill him, he was trying, the others were torturing him and... He apparated us but he — he's not going to make it, you have to come and help!"

Her mind raced. That the Dark Lord had returned, that Karkaroff had had a hand in it. But, no. Karkaroff was dying, and if Potter wanted to save him from what had been done by the Dark Lord's hand...

"Harry." Dumbledore was rushing forward now, going to the boy in a swirl of violet robes. "Harry, what has happened?"

"Professor, you need to come with me. Now, he — Karkaroff's dying, he tried to save me and he's dying!"

There was a moment of hesitation on Dumbledore's part, which agitated Harry even more. "Professor, you have to believe me—"

"I do, Harry," Dumbledore said, with a level of calm that Aurora was not at all capable of experiencing at present. "I do. Where is he?"

"The Shrieking Shack. I — I know you can't Apparate inside of Hogwarts grounds and it was the best place I could think and it should have been Hogsmeade but I knew I should come to you and Karkaroff... Please, Professor, just, we have to hurry—"

"Yes, Harry, I know." Dumbledore turned back to the other three; Hermione and Ron had gathered behind Aurora, both shaking, but at Dumbledore's look they surged forward to their friend.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"Where'd you go?"

"It — Crouch's son! He — he's alive, I don't know how, but he, when the curse happened, everyone was distracted and he Peteified me and then, he had an Invisibility Cloak and Karkaroff—"

He broke off again, and as the other two put their arms around him and Dumbledore whispered about curses and dead men, Aurora was at a loss. She could not comfort and right now she did not know how to advise either. She had found him, but what good was she, really?

She hung back, beside Theo, who appeared as uncertain of himself as she felt. There was a certain tangible fear in the air, stretching between them and extending to the others, who were trying to calm Potter enough to get information out of him. Aurora hated seeing people distressed, she had never known what to do — but Theo, at her side, seemed to itch to do something, to go towards Potter even though he barely knew him and never a kind word had been exchanged between them.

He was a step towards them when Dumbledore turned sharply and remembered their existence. His sharp gaze stalled Theo, pushing him back with a look that was almost judgmental, and Aurora tensed.

"Mister Nott," he said, "we must alert the Ministry at once. Would you go back to the Quidditch Pitch and inform Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch — Miss Black, kindly go to my office and contact your father. Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, with me."

"She can't go anywhere," Potter said frantically, just as Aurora had been about to say yes — anything to avoid the awful, terrified look on Potter's face. "There were others there. Death Eaters." Her stomach plummeted and Theo reeled back, his face paling. Their arms brushed and her heart pounded, willing Potter to stop what he was saying. "Malfoy — Lucius Malfoy, I saw him, he was there. There was a Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode..." He looked at Theo and she mentally dared him to say the other name of the top of his tongue.

Theo knew it anyway.

That sick feeling knotted her stomach again. Her head rang. Somehow this felt inevitable.

"The person who took you off the grounds tonight, Harry," Dumbledore said, "are they still here?" Potter shook his head. "Miss Black, please. Mr Potter will need his godfather. Mister Nott — quickly, and tell no one else what has happened."

She did not particularly want to go off on her own right now, not after seeing Potter like that. But the threat was after him, not her, and she needed to run, needed to escape the horrible pity for him that was writhing inside her, and she could not stand to have anyone else by her. "Miss Black," Dumbledore continued, through the buzzing in her head, "When you do get through to your father, would you bring him to the hospital wing? The password for my office is Fizzing Whizzbees, and the password for the Floo Network is Toffee Apples."

The run was not long, only five minutes or so. And she would rather be somewhere Potter's captor could not immediately return to. Nor, still, did she want to be near Karkaroff. Just in case. She trusted Potter wasn't lying, but she was not so sure that she could trust his judgment when he was in a state like this. "Yes, Professor," she said, and with a wrenching glance at Potter, she took Theo by the hand — for he was still staring, stricken, over Potter's shoulder — and turned and ran.

The night was growing cold, or maybe it was just her fear as she checked over her shoulder every five seconds. Potter and the rest had disappeared, frantic and fearful, and she had a mission; now was not the time to be hit by a wayward hex. But she felt confident, running. She felt she could be useful and that she knew how to defend herself too.

"You think Potter — you think that really happened. That You-Know-Who came back?"

She wished desperately that she could tell Theo know. Through the air that rushed past them she turned to them and said, "I think he may have been coming back for a long time. And if Potter says so, well, his mind may be muddled but he's telling the truth."

She wished those words — or any words — were capable of comforting Theo, but nothing could. His hand in hers, they sprinted through the darkness towards the Quidditch Pitch.

"Come with me," he said to her, turning. "We'll tell them and then go to the castle together."

"I have to get my father as soon as I can. And it'll be a mess in there, and complicated, and someone needs to go. I can take care of myself."

"Are you sure—"

"Go, Theo, quickly. Meet me at the Hospital Wing if you must." She scanned the map quickly. "There's no one about who shouldn't be. Now, go."

She could not waste time, and indeed, she wanted to see her father as soon as she could, already rattled herself. One thing at a time. Theo separated from her reluctantly, returning to the clamouring crowd of celebrations, and she ran in the opposite direction, up towards the looming castle.

At the steps, she picked up the pace, desperate to get inside and avoid the drifting sounds of celebration from the Quidditch Pitch. It was just barely warmer inside the castle than out.

Portraits whispered as she hurried past, spreading gossip already through the castle. News travelled fast in Hogwarts and it was unavoidable. Soon enough, everyone at the Quidditch Pitch would realise that Potter and Karkaroff both were missing, that Dumbledore had taken off from the judges' table. People would start to speculate and perhaps, to panic, when they heard the stories.

"Fizzing Whizbees," Aurora panted once she reached the base of the Headmaster's Tower. The stone griffin statue's eyes glowered as it moved aside, far too slowly. "Hurry up," she muttered, tapping her foot. "Professor Dumbledore has sent me and it is urgent."

At that the griffin at least responded, unveiling the tower staircase beyond. Aurora ran up the stairs as fast as she possibly could, her wand out already. The door at the top was thankfully unlocked, and she barrelled in. The door banged against the wall as she shoved it open, startling a group of the portraits on the wall.

"I say, girl!" cried the portrait of Armando Dippet. "Don't disrupt an old man's sleep!"

"It's urgent," she snapped, searching the room for Dumbledore's fireplace.

"Is that my girl?" asked the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, staring down imperiously at her. "Lady Black, you look most undignified!"

For once, she ignored him, hurrying over to the fireplace, the top right corner of which had been marked with a letter F. There was a small pot on the high mantle, which she took quickly, opening the sooty powder. Her hand trembled as she reached in, said the words, "Toffee apples," as instructed, and knelt down, making to start a call to Arbrus Hill.

Then the door creaked behind her. Aurora froze, feeling a draught come in through the window, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. There was a certain cold emptiness to the office, one which hadn't been there before.

She turned, gripping her wand. With the colour leeched from his skin and the warmth drained from his eyes, Barty Crouch stood in the doorway. Staring straight at her.