"Mr Crouch," she said, with an urgent glance at the portrait of Armando Dippet, whose eyes glimmered curiously. She stood and raised her voice, hoping that the portraits might hear and raise an alarm — there was something disconcerting about the look in Crouch's eye, and the fact that he was there at all. She thought back to the way he had spoken to her earlier and shivered. "I thought you would be celebrating a Hogwarts win."
She did not know what she had expected — a cold smile, perhaps, some wild admission of guilt or a grand master plan. But Crouch merely looked at her, blankly, and said, "Where is the boy?"
"I'm sorry?" Anxiety lumped in her throat. "What boy?"
"Harry — Potter." He forced the word out in such a way that it seemed as though he were fighting a battle with his own speech. "The boy told us they were coming here, that Dumbledore was dealing with it. I thought — his office—"
His eyes flicked around the room, as though he thought that Harry Potter and the professors were all going to leap out from behind the furniture, as if they had planned a surprise party. Aurora's heart pounded in her chest. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore is dealing with him most appropriately."
"He is not here?" Crouch stiffened, turning around in a circle. "Tell me, girl. Where is he?"
"I don't have to tell you anything," she said lowly, "though I think Professor Dumbledore would like me to question why you are so insistent."
Crouch's face maintained that look of blank disdain, but suspicion crept over Aurora. He was close to the door, close enough that once he realised where Potter was, then he could easily turn around and find him. And Aurora's instincts were telling her that would not be a good idea at all, not for anyone.
The Floo was still unlocked behind her, but she hadn't yet called for her father. If she wasn't careful, if she left it unguarded, Crouch could Floo anywhere he wanted, and if something was wrong, she couldn't let him get away. But as he came closer, fear set in, and she tightened her grip on her wand again, raising it slightly. The portraits on the walls whispered and shifted within their frames.
"I am sure Professor Dumbledore will bring him soon. I came on ahead, to prepare."
Crouch's eyes brightened. "Prepare for what?"
"The Minister," she bluffed. "He is coming to help present the Triwizard Cup, is he not? Now that Diggory has won. But he must speak to Potter, too."
His face bore little expression, only the tiniest furrowing of his brow. "I see. Potter... He will be here soon."
"Yes," Aurora lied, eyes darting to the portrait of Phinease Nigellus urgently, begging him to do something. Even if he could get a message to her father, through one of his other portraits — there must be one at Arbrus Hill, she thought, and there was certainly one at Grimmauld Place and one at the Manor — then it would do something. Aurora was on her own and running out of time, just as Crouch was running out of patience. She could not stall him for very long. "I am sorry, Mr Crouch. No doubt this has all put rather a damper on your event."
He only grunted in response, a very perplexing reaction for him. Unease prickled over Aurora, cold running up the back of her neck. "I'm sure it can be overlooked. And rectified. Perhaps we should go down to the pitch again — I believe all is in order here."
It happened so fast that Aurora hardly had the time to duck and block. Bright blue light surged towards her, knocking her backwards. Crouch's lips had barely moved, but there was a look of disgust on his face, as well as a bloodthirsty glimmer in his eyes. She didn't wait for him to cast again — a duel would stall him at any rate — before crying, "Stupefy!"
Crouch blocked it deftly and the spell was flung right back at her. Aurora whirled away, calling out, "Protego!" Her spell shattered, and she focused hard on keeping up her shield as Crouch sent a severing hex towards her. It only just broke through, slashing at her shoulder, and she let out a hiss of pain, ducking behind Dumbledore's desk to avoid the beam of bright red light that passed over her head.
Crouch's movements were abrupt, not smooth. It was like he had to wait for an order before he could cast, like he was fighting against himself. An Imperius Curse, she thought, hardly believing it. The signs were there, though, and she didn't know of any other reason why Crouch would act like this. How long, she wondered — had this only been placed tonight, or periodically, or all year? Surely it could not have been in place all year; it was too difficult to sustain, and to easy to be caught out.
Her breaths came fast and she hissed as another burst of pain went through her shoulder. She had to be quicker than him, through him off his planned course. The Imperius would limit him, especially if he was trying to fight it, which she hoped Crouch was.
Her head span as she tried to recall a curse, anything strong enough to stop him. A simple spell of jinx level would not be enough to contain Crouch — he was too powerful, too experienced. Body-Bind could work, but it had to be strong, and her hands were already trembling around her wand. Her shoulder burned with pain, blood oozing from the wound, and she forced herself to tear her gaze away and ignore it. She had to keep him here. Keep him from Potter.
Aurora ducked out from under the desk, a shield already erected around her, and cried, "Impedimenta!"
Crouch lunged forward but was stopped by the jinx. His arm jerked as he tried to right himself and his attempted curse flew off to the right, smashing against a portrait. The frame was blown to pieces, and the other portraits bellowed their anger as Aurora ducked, trying to avoid the debris.
"Vespstimula!" Crouch shouted, and an angry yellow light stung her face. Her cheeks went hot, burning at the sting, and tears welled in her eyes at the pain.
"Expelliarmus!" she tried, her throat constricting. The spell came out feebly, and Crouch brushed it aside.
"Transmogrify!" came his next spell, which she blocked, but the sight of it stunned her momentarily.
Lurid green, burning, from deep within her memory. A torture curse, designed to end in death. She recognised it. Her magic, her whole body, her whole being, screamed in rejection, as the world slowed around her. She knew this curse. She had felt its effects before, from a different caster, with the intent to kill when she was only a baby.
It confirmed what she had thought, what she had feared.
This was not Barty Crouch. Not his mind, anyway. This was a Death Eater, or someone controlled by a Death Eater — his son, she thought frantically, his son who had tortured the Longbottoms with Bellatrix, who had possibly come to kill her with Bellatrix.
Did he seek to kill her, now, too?
All her fury went into the curse she threw back at him, blasting him backwards through the door. He hit against the pillar and crumpled to the ground, rolling down three steps before halting. He did not move, but Aurora panted heavily, hardly daring to believe it. For good measure, she cast a Body-Bind Curse, heart hammering in her chest.
The force with which he had hit the pillar. She wasn't sure that she could regret it, but the thought did make her feel nauseous as she crept closer to him. If he was dead...
It had all happened so fast. She didn't even know what he wanted, why he was there, who he really was. Her stomach lurched as she knelt by his unmoving body, saw his glassy eyes staring at the ceiling. This was typical of a Body-Bind, she reminded herself, dragging him up the steps, slumped in a corner of Dumbledore's office.
"I haven't killed him," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.
The portraits muttered among themselves but Phineas's voice cut above the rest. "Heavens, girl, you look a wreck!"
She shook her head, unable to worry about that. Her father, she thought woozily, she needed her father.
She stumbled back towards the Floo in a daze, calling for Arbrus Hill.
"Father?" Her voice was shrill, ringing in the silence of the lounge she was looking into. "Dad?" Nothing. "I need you! It's Aurora! Dad!" Her voice broke, burning pain racing through her shoulder again. Her vision swam, nausea rolling through her. "Dad, please!"
He came running into the room and she sagged in relief once she could see him. The motion sent pain racing through her again, and her breath stuck in her throat. "Aurora? What happened? Your face—"
"I'm in Dumbledore's office," she said, choked, "I need—"
"I'll be there in two seconds," her father told her and she pulled away, stumbling to her feet. Her knees trembled, legs like jelly, and she clutched the mantelpiece. Footsteps thudded on the staircase and she braced herself, clutching her wand again, though with the way her mind was slipping, she doubted she would be able to do much.
Focus, she told herself, bent over. Pressure on the wound. She stumbled to Dumbledore's desk, searching for gauze, bandages, a clean cloth. She hoped he wouldn't mind if she used a white handkerchief — the thought made her laugh, almost deliriously, as she pressed it to her burning shoulder.
Flames crackled as her father stepped through the fireplace, and her head felt too heavy for her shoulders as she turned. He stepped forward, eyes wide, face pale, and went to hold her. "Aurora, what the hell is going on?"
"Crouch," she said, "duelled — I don't know if it's an Imperius or he's possessed or something else — Potter — kidnapped..." She fought to get the words out, to breathe again. Her father pulled her towards him protectively and she let out a shriek as his hand brushed against her shoulder. "Says he's back. Dark Lord... Dumbledore took him — said to fetch you, and then Crouch—"
Her father's eyes found his slumped figure. "Aurora, is he alive?"
"I don't — don't know." Panic rose in her throat. "Have I — I can't have — didn't mean to — he tried to use the — this curse—" Her father's arms tensed around her "—I recognised it. He was going—"
"What in the ruddy hell?" Moody's voice blasted from the doorway. Aurora wanted to turn towards him, but her knees gave out and she sank into her father instead. He stumbled back but kept a firm grip on her. "Black? Dumbledore said you were up here — what the hell did you do?"
"Crouch — he attacked me, Professor."
"I can bloody well see that," Moody snapped, and Aurora tried to restrain the sob that wrenched through her throat. A lump grew there and she could hardly speak or breathe around it. He stomped over to Crouch's body. "He's alive. Get to the Hospital Wing, Black. They're waiting for you."
"What — what are you going to do?" she asked, voice shaking as she leaned on her father.
"Keep him here. I'll revive him once you're out the way and safe." He frowned. "Better get Dumbledore to call his phoenix back. And keep your wand out, Black."
She took in a shaky breath, relying on her father to help her move towards the door. When she looked at Crouch, revulsion stirred in her stomach. If he had been killed, she felt it wasn't much of a loss — but she didn't like the thought of murdering him. "You're sure he's alive?"
"Trust me, girl," Moody said, "you held your own, but your blasting hex isn't strong enough to kill a full-grown man."
"It's alright, sweetheart," her father murmured, pulling her closer as she trembled, trying to make it to thestairs. Her shoulder throbbed, and the pain and swelling from the stinging curse was only getting worse. It made her head spin, her throat close up, and the thought of not being able to breathe made her even more scared, made her force herself to breathe and struggle through it. "Hey," her dad said softly, "Aurora I've got you. You're going to be alright. But I think we need to get this shoulder seen to, yeah?"
"It looks nasty," Moody agreed with a grunt, "but Pomfrey'll get you patched up. Now." His eye whirred as he looked down at Crouch's body on the stone. Aurora felt sick just looking at it. "I think this one's for me to deal with, eh?"
Aurora nodded numbly, and her father took a tight hold of her, helping her down the spiralling stone staircase. The castle was far too quiet, though perhaps that was just because her head felt so clouded with shock and confusion. She suspected students were being kept down at the pitch, but couldn't really hear if there was anybody about, her head was spinning. "Dad," she said, as he clutched her tighter, "watch my shoulder."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, wincing as he adjusted his grip. "We're almost there."
She didn't quite register what was going on in the Hospital Wing when she and her father burst in, except that there were more people than she had expected. No Karkaroff, though.
At their entrance, Madam Pomfrey let out a shocked gasp.
"Crouch," her father ground out, "Moody's with him now, he's — Harry?"
Potter's voice came across dimly and Aurora strained to focus in on his face, pale and marked by tears and blood and grime. His eyes were wide as he asked, "What happened, Aurora?"
She hated that he did her the kindness of asking, but she was grateful, too, as Pomfrey guided her to the bed next to him.
"I'll be alright," she said, thought it felt like a great lie. The motion of sitting down made her head spin more and her stomach churn. When she turned, agony shot through her shoulder again. Madam Pomfrey hurried away to a cupboard and then came back over, armed with various potions and pastes.
"I didn't — manage to say — what happened—"
"It's alright, Aurora," Dumbledore said, quietly, hovering over her for a minute. "Sirius said Crouch did this to you?"
"He — Imperius — I think." She coughed, throat constricting again as sharp, stinging pain flared over her face.
"Lie back for me, Black."
Aurora swallowed, with difficulty, turning her head to see, blearily, the outline of her father standing between her bed and another. "Dad?"
"You're alright, sweetheart," he said, taking her hand.
"I know I'm alright," she grumbled, even though she felt the farthest thing from alright. It wasn't even just the wound on her shoulder, or the stinging hex still active on her cheek. It was the lingering, ringing call of 'transmogrify' from Crouch that terrified her. It dredged up a memory that she had to relive in nightmares, brought out a pain that she thought was going to kill her — because that was what it was supposed to do. That was what Bellatrix had intended it to do.
She listened absently to the conversation around her as Madam Pomfrey tried to ease the swelling of her face. "She's having trouble breathing too," her father said. "I think she might be in shock, and there was a stinging hex, which might still—"
"I know what a stinging hex does," Pomfrey said sharply, dabbing some cool oil on her afflicted cheek and bringing something to her lips. "I'm more than equipped to deal with this, if you'll relax, Black."
Regardless of which Black she was speaking to, Aurora tried to relax and let Madam Pomfrey do her work. But it was difficult when, every time she closed her eyes, she remembered, and it brought a lump to her throat, stopping her breathing. It was only once Madam Pomfrey had left them, and Weasley and Granger had been sent to fetch Professors McGonagall and Snape, that Dumbledore asked Potter to recount his tale. Aurora was surprised he did it in front of her, but her father showed no signs of letting her out of her sight or out of his grip — he held her with one hand and Potter with the other.
Potter's explanation came out in shaky words and brittle breaths, spilling over themselves and then being bitten back, like he was afraid to fall over some mental precipice.
He told them how, when the commotion had broken out in the maze and everyone rushed about to help, someone under an Invisibility Cloak had found him, and Petrified him. He had been unable to move, but could see what was happening. Karkaroff, who had been fearing something like this, aware of the darkening mark on his arm — apparently a sign of the Dark Lord's growing power — had made his way through the commotion to Potter, having noticed his quick change in demeanour.
The person under the cloak — Barty Crouch Junior, who was alive and well, apparently — had been quicker than Karkaroff, though. Enraged by the sight and interference of the traitor who had sent him to Azkaban, he had caught him with a stunner and drawn both of them under the cloak. They both had been dragged away, off the grounds, where Crouch had Apparate them, to a graveyard Potter claimed to have seen in his dreams. To the place where the Dark Lord's own father had been buried.
Karkaroff had been disarmed, tortured, and bound, by the will of his former master. They wanted to make him suffer — Crouch and the Dark Lord — for both his treachery and his later interference, trying to save himself from the inevitable death he know would come with Voldemort's return. They bound Potter, too, and told him of how they had planned this, how Barty Crouch had evaded his father's grip in the summer while he had been called out unexpectedly on the Sirius Black case, having been smuggled out of Azkaban and staging his death with his mother in his place. Potter spoke of how Barty Crouch had given his hand to revive Voldemort, who had also taken his father's bones, and then Potter's blood.
Then he went quiet, and Aurora felt an unexpected protective twinge. When she looked up at Dumbledore — their headmaster, who was supposed to protect them and had done nothing — rage rose within her. He was watching Potter with a contemplative look, like this was all a great mystery for him to deduce, and she tried to sit up, not knowing what she wanted to say but knowing it was nothing nice.
"He told me my blood would make him stronger," Potter said quietly. "Rather than if he used someone else's. He wanted the protection that my — my mother left in me. And he was right. He could touch me without hurting himself. He touched my face."
There was something like triumph on Dumbledore's face then, and Aurora did not like that at all. It made her stomach turn. How much did he know, or guess, that he never revealed? How much was he willing to sacrifice to confirm whatever theory he just had?
Potter went on at Dumbledore's behest, telling them of how the Dark Lord had re-emerged from a cauldron, how he had called the Death Eaters to him. Aurora tried to tune out the names — Lucius Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Parkinson, Avery, MacNair — but they rang in her head anyway, a creeping reminder of all the ways she didn't fit, all the ways in which her world was changing around her, and the lack of control which she had over it.
"The wands connected?" her father asked, when Potter mentioned it and stopped. His green eyes glimmered with tears, and the sight of it was painful. "Why?"
"Priori incantatem," Dumbledore said softly.
"The reverse spell effect?" Aurora and her father asked at the same time. She was not familiar with wandlore and did not know how all of the things Dumbledore was telling them occurred — but she made it a mission to find out.
He told them how the spirit of an old man had re-appeared before him, then that of his own parents. At that, her father let out a low curse, tensing.
"They all said," Potter started, then broke off. "They said... To run. To get as far away as I could, to get safe and never look back. But I couldn't leave Karkaroff. He — he tried to help, he'd tried to do the right thing, for once, when I'd spent the whole year thinking... And when I broke the curse I managed to distract Voldemort and they all ran to him, and Karkaroff's bonds broke and I — I told him to bring us back to Hogsmeade, so I did but... Something went wrong."
His voice split on those words, giving way to a cleaving sob, and Aurora knew, in her heart, that Karkaroff had not survived the night. That was why she hadn't seen him.
"He was dying," Potter said, "and I couldn't save him but I — I couldn't let him die there."
Silence fell.
"I will say it again," Dumbledore told him, "you have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to that of those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his power. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it — and you have now given us all that we can expect of you this night. I expect that, once I tell him what has transpired, Cornelius Fudge will want to come up and speak with you. The rest of the school currently has no idea what has happened tonight, but they will, eventually. I will ease your burden as much as I can.
"As for you, Aurora." She tensed under his gaze and instinctively held on to her father's hand, not even caring how pathetic or weak it might have appeared. She needed someone to hold onto. "You too have shown courage, in duelling Mr Crouch. The portraits had gotten word to me, that you were trying to stall him, stop him from finding Harry. You did so at risk to yourself."
Her cheeks heated up, but the praise did not make her any less angry. "He tried to use the Transmogrifian curse on me," she said, looking at Dumbledore. He looked horrified, but not surprise. "Do you... Know anything about that?"
There was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes and her stomach churned.
"I cannot say... Crouch used it on you?"
"He was Imperiused."
"His son's influence." Dumbledore let out a long sigh, gaze drifting back to Potter. "I believe we have more questions to answer about that."
"I want to know how a Death Eater got onto the school grounds," she said, avoiding acknowledging the way her heart seized and she wanted to cry, or scream, or anything, to release the remnants of pain she felt inside of her.
"We did not anticipate such an event—"
"You should have precautions against intruders!"
"He had an Invisibility Cloak, we believed him dead—"
"Potter could have been killed!" She stared at him, furious. What the fuck was wrong with him?
"Aurora," Potter said quietly, "it isn't Professor Dumbledore's fault."
She seethed, but the weariness in his tone stopped her from going further.
"I must ask that we let Harry rest now," Dumbledore said quietly, watching them both with twinkling eyes. Aurora had never hated that expression more. "If he would like his friends to return and stay with him, they may do so. No doubt Madam Pomfrey wishes to tend to you both again." Her father squeezed her hand tighter. "Please, do not interrogate Harry further. He has had been through quite an ordeal tonight." Aurora tried to hold back the glare she wanted to direct at Dumbledore.
Her friends were out of the question of course. Apart from Gwen, and perhaps Theo, but she wasn't sure she could face them, like this. She had only her father, and her godbrother, and his too-loud friends who didn't heed any warnings. Madam Pomfrey was quick to return after the Headmaster left, offering Potter and Aurora Dreamless Sleep, which she declined. She wanted to stay awake, to hear what happened to Crouch. She wanted more than anything to speak freely to her father, but she couldn't, not with Granger and Weasley around, muttering under their breath.
Only once Potter drifted to sleep and the pair of them took over his bedside, did her father let go of his hand and turn all his attentions to Aurora. He slid his chair to sit beside her, and she struggled to sit up.
"How do I look?" she asked, lifting a hand to her swollen cheek.
"Not as bad as earlier," he said quietly, "but you do look exhausted, sweetheart."
"I am," Aurora admitted, resisting the urge to curl towards him and lean against his shoulder. But her father seemed to understand. He moved closer, reached his hand up to stroke her hair gently. "Dad, the curse Crouch used, the Transmogrification. Do you think Bellatrix might've..." She felt sick even thinking the words, recounting the flaring pain and nausea. "What is it supposed to do?"
"We don't have to do this tonight," her father said, "you need to rest, too."
"I need to know," she insisted. "You know I do."
His face fell into a look of deep consideration, and her father took a moment to himself before he could speak. "I don't know if that was used on you, Aurora. We couldn't figure it out, but it is possible. I just..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "But I do know about the curse itself. It's very dark."
"I gathered that."
He swallowed, closing his eyes and Aurora watched as he fought with his words. "The curse is intended to — to torture. It doesn't target the nerves and the mind like the Cruciatus, it targets — the body. Bones. It's supposed to break them, it's supposed to destroy a person. And then, when every — when every part of you... It locks you in place. The mind is suspended, while the target dies slowly. Once it reaches a certain — certain point — there's no... No coming back. The mind and te body and spirit — magic — are split apart, and then, at its most painful, you die. "He took in a shaky breath. "It's particularly cruel."
"But it didn't kill me."
"It has to be sustained. We must have gotten there in time... Aurora, this curse... If it is what was used on you. There are theories, about what it can do for one's... Future."
Her stomach turned over. "What do you mean?"
"It isn't meant to let the target live. If they survive the attack, it's still supposed to have an impact beyond that. And..." He trailed off, his own face contorting in fear. Tears swelled in his eyes. "But maybe the curse didn't have time to take hold. I would have thought it wouldn't — wouldn't take so long — but... In the chaos, the panic..."
But Aurora felt somehow that wasn't true. The first time she had spoken with Death, he had said that she was supposed to be dead. That he was a remnant not only of that curse but of the family curse. Family magic, passed down...
"There was something else," she said quietly. "You've seen Death but never spoken to him. You said most of our family have some sort of connection. But I have spoken to him. There must be something more to it. He said I should have died. Not that I avoided dying, or avoided the curse — that it should have killed me. But it didn't. It didn't rebound, didn't shatter, it did take hold... But it didn't kill me. It clearly affected me, from what you told me. But not as much as it should have. Certainly not from a witch like her."
Her father shook his head. "Maybe we got to you quickly enough. Maybe Bellatrix had a shred of humanity left within her, that she could not bring herself to kill her own blood relative. The curse can have lingering effects, even if it doesn't..." He trailed off, pain flashing across his eyes.
Aurora's stomach dropped, and she felt suddenly, a fresh wave of nausea. "Did they use the same curse..." she started quietly. "Did they use that on my mother?"
"No," he said softly, "no, they used the Killing Curse." Easiest way to kill in a battle, if one could manage it. That meant, if Bellatrix had used a different curse, that they didn't merely want to kill Aurora — they had wanted to hurt her and to hurt her father by doing so. "They wanted a clean Death. Quick. To make sure there was nothing..." He swallowed tightly, pained, then cleared his throat.
Though likely her imagination, Aurora was sure that she could feel a twinge of pain in her neck, an ache wrapping around, like hands trying to strangle her. "Aurora," her father said, "I will protect you, from whatever comes. I won't let anything like that happen again."
"I'm not scared," Aurora said, even though she was. She was terrified of being killed, especially by Bellatrix Lestrange. For if the Dark Lord truly had returned, Aurora knew it was only a matter of time before he broke his loyal followers out of Azkaban.
And then Bellatrix would come for her again. As the eldest child of Cygnus Black, she was the next closest descendant other than Aurora's own father. She stood to gain the most. Aurora thought, with a terrified cold in her chest, that she would need to sort her will. Under no circumstances could Bellatrix Lestrange be allowed any of her family's power.
"Harry said Lucius Malfoy was there," she said quietly, because she didn't like the way her father was looking at her, like he was scared for her, like he pitied her, like there was something worse that he wanted to say but she wasn't ready to hear. "He's Draco's father."
"I know," her father told her, brow furrowing. "You've told me this before."
Aurora curled closer in on herself, leaning her head on her father's shoulder. There was so much she was supposed to do this summer, and now she did not know if it was safe at all.
Lucius Malfoy would not hurt her now, surely, she thought. But if he had orders, could he even refuse? Enemies could be everywhere this summer, from the Parkinsons' Gala to the Merlin's Day Ball.
But she could not cower in fear of them, she reminded herself, no matter how much she wanted to in that moment. That would mean letting them win anyway.
Instead, for now, she leaned against her father and sighed.
"Are you going to talk to Draco about it?" he asked, and she shook her head.
"I don't know. They'll all find out soon enough, or they'll work it out." Everything seemed so strange and uncertain now. There were two sides emerging, and she had been so determined to balance between them, but it seemed she might not be able to do so for much longer. She wasn't even sure that she had a choice.
One side would kill her anyway — her friends weren't their parents, but their parents certainly would not give them a choice as to where their loyalties lay.
"I just want to sleep now," she admitted, even though she was scared that if she closed her eyes, all she would see was curselight.
"That's alright," he told her, voice gentle, as he helped ease her back down, so she was lying on the bed. His hand combed through her hair again and then let go. "I'll be right here, okay? Do you want Dreamless Sleep?"
She wanted desperately to say no — to be able to say no. Needing a potion to get restful sleep, she told herself, was weak. She couldn't take it. But she didn't want nightmares, didn't want to recall that curselight even in sleep. So she nodded, and her father gave it to her. The potion was gentle, cool and soothing against the back of her throat, and she sighed, leaning back against her pillows.
"I'm right here, sweetheart," her father said, kissing her forehead gently as he smoothed away her hair. "Get some sleep."
Her last thoughts as she drifted away were of Bellatrix Lestrange, of her motives and her failure, and if the matter of blood had really mattered. She did not think Bellatrix would care — she would see Aurora's death as a way to take her power — but perhaps that had stopped the curse. Perhaps that was why Death was so interested.
Perhaps... Perhaps Regulus Black was interested too.