Aurora grabbed her father's hand and ran. All around them, spellfire and prophecies rained down. "Stupefy!" she shouted, aiming the hex blindly over her shoulder, hoping to slow down any would-be attackers. "Confringo! Incendio!" Fire licked the side of someone's dark robes and she prayed she had gotten it right, and it was really an attacker.

"Where's your wand?" she panted to her father, who was stumbling along beside her as though in a daze. "Dad?"

"I don't — Bella took it."

Bella. The familiarity of the name threatened to knock Aurora sideways. She turned sharply and pulled her father out of the way as a shelf toppled precariously behind them. "You've not got a wand?"

"No — shit, I — I don't even know what happened, Rory. How did you know I was here?"

"Harry. He had a vision — bombarda! — of you, here, I thought it was a trap but we had to come and — Pansy knew — confringo! — and I don't know what's happening but you're here and I'm here and I'm going to get you out safely, Dad, I promise."

They stumbled together, and Aurora's shoulder bumped roughly against a precariously swaying shelf of prophecies. Pain burned through her at the touch.

"It should be me promising you that," he muttered, guilt seeping into every word.

Aurora had nothing to say to that. She could only run, stumbling blindly towards a door she hoped was an exit. "I take it you don't know where you're going any better than I do?"

"I don't remember coming in here," her dad said, "one second I was in Marseilles and it — on your left, Aurora!"

He pulled her sharply towards him as a shadow blew in through a shelf of prophecies. "Impedimenta!" Aurora screeched, holding on tight to her father as she tried desperately to fend off whatever thing was coming towards them. The shadow seemed to fold in on itself, jarring off to the right, and Aurora tried to drag her father behind her in the other direction.

"Come on," she muttered as he stumbled, "we have to hurry!"

"Aurora," he panted, reaching a hand out to steady himself on a shelf, "Aurora, I can't—"

"Dad, I have to get you out of here, you have to run!"

"I can't, Aurora! I can't hardly feel any part of my body, let alone use it!"

She stared at him in the low light, sounds of fighting and yelling all around them in a distance. "But you have to. We have to get out of here."

"I know, sweetheart." He reached his hands out to cup her face. "But I can't keep up with you right now. You have to go first, I'll find my own way out. You have to run — run and find your friends and run."

"Absolutely not," she snapped back, terror piercing her voice. "I can't just leave you, what — I'm a good runner, I'm strong — how can I help you?"

"Aurora, please—"

"No," she snapped, eyes filling with tears as she grabbed at his hands, and then fished around in her robe pocket. She pulled out the necklace with Cyphus attached and thrust it at her father. "This will protect you." He stared at it, but his fingers closed around the necklace. "Dad, just put it on, please, and then —"

The words were knocked out of her as a blast of hot, burning magic ran through the shelf beside them, shattering the glass prophecy balls. Whispers and screams collided and Aurora could hardly hear them as she was flung to the ground, just barely managing to aim her wand at the approaching dark silhouette and scream, "Expelliarmus!"

All she could think was that her dad was defenceless, and he needed help. And a wand soared through the air, straight into her hand, and she thrust it at him as she tried to haul him to his feet. He hissed, pulling away.

"Rory — I can't—"

The Death Eater was racing towards them from the shadows, and her father turned, wordlessly bringing a rush of fire down upon them in their black robes. A scream went up, along with a singed scent, and Aurora's stomach turned. They went silent, and fell to the ground, motionless.

"Dad, what—"

"Go!" he shouted, holding onto the shelf for dear life. "I'll fight, and I'll find Harry — you go!"

"Dad, you're still in pain—"

"Aurora, I told you to go, so go!"

So fierce was the look in his eye that Aurora did not know how to say no.

"Meet me in the Atrium," she said, backing away. "If you're sure you can—"

A smoke-like shadow came careening through the air; Aurora only saw it when it was nearly upon them, and both she and her father whirled out of the way. From his newly acquired wand, he sent a stream of blue light which stopped the shadow dead in its tracks. It solidified, warping into the shape of a Death Eater, who Aurora aimed a Stunner at. It glanced off a hastily erected shield, but her father's next hex caused them to stumble.

In the distance, his shadow crossing the light of the shattering prophecies, Aurora could see Harry Potter running for dear life, and it seemed her father saw the same.

"Go!" her father yelled again, staring after Potter, who was running blindly, clearly without a clue where to go. "I can hold my own."

She wasn't yet sure she believed him, but she listened, this time, forced herself to run as her father engaged the Death Eater in a duel. Aurora ran faster than she ever had, stumbling towards the door through collapsing shelves and raining blue light. She burst through it, into that circular room, and then into the next door she could reach, slamming it shut behind her.

She sank against the wall, taking in the room and the great hanging veil in the centre, which called to her still. She had to get the Atrium, but there was a good chance a second ambush was waiting there. First, she thought, she had to send for backup.

Desperate, she recalled Dora once sending a message to Remus via Patronus, asking for assistance on a case. And there were the interdepartmental memos that the Ministry used; could she get those to her friends, somehow?

Patronus, first. She gripped her wand and leaned against the wall, focusing with all her might on a happy memory. Of celebrating Christmas with her dad and the Tonkses, that feeling of having a place in the world and people to love her within it, at last, after too long feeling lonely. That was what she needdd to cling onto, what she needed to keep, and she tried to push away the gnawing guilt from running, as she had been told to, as she raised her wand and heard the veil's whispers in her ears and cried out, "Expecto patronum!"

A silver fox sprung out the end of her wand and she stayed it with her hand. "Go to Dora," she told it, "find her and tell her the Ministry is compromised, there are Death Eaters here, with nine children and my father to fight them, and we need help."

The fox nodded its head slowly, and the lapis nocte ring on her finger burned so hot she thought it might sear right through her bones. The fox ran away and her hand continued to burn; Castella's voice rang furiously in her head, "Let me out, let me go!"

Julius hissed around her neck, the chain tightened.

Then she heard the whispers from beyond the veil and everything else faded. A woman's voice — her mother's — floated through the room towards her, and then she could hear Arcturus and Lucretia and Ignatius and her grandmother, and then Cassiopeia and Cygnus and every ancestor she had imagined, calling to her, wanting her. Home. Home. Her feet moved of their own accord, as though the words and the draughty veil held some sort of invisible string of fate out to her, pulling her in.

The voices said, "You are not alone," they said, "you are loved," they said, "it is so easy to die, so gentle and simple on this side."

Her mother was not screaming there, begging to be allowed to dignity of living in peace. Her grandmother was not yelling about scum and traitors, but instead telling her what a good little witch she was, he proper, how proud she would make the Noble House of Black, and what an impression she would make upon the Wizarding World. Arcturus did not tell her not to cry; instead he told her she was safe, if she was with him, that he would never allow any harm to befall her. Lucretia whispered that she was the cleverest little witch she knew, and Ignatius told her to smile, because everything would be alright.

She walked to them, feeling like she was floating up the steps, as a ghost might. There was nobody to stop her here; she reached her arm up, let her hand rest upon the cold black stone that surrounded the archway. Death did not speak to her. From deep within her, Castella's voice said, "Rest."

Then a hand clasped around her wrist and yanked her away, pulling her towards a man with long white-blond hair, and sharp, pale eyes. She tried to scream, but Lucius' other hand flew over her mouth. His eyes flashed.

"You foolish, foolish girl," he spat. "You came here, with that stupid boy. You were smarter than this."

A trap. She had known it was a trap. She had come anyway. His son had forced her into this, had tricked her, driven her mad. She bit down on his palm and Lucius yelled, flinching back.

"Get off me," she spat back, wrestling against him. But he was tall and larger than her, and forced her back. "Let me go—"

"You have to leave. Go, you stupid girl — there is an emergency exit from the Assembly room, it will take you into Muggle London—"

There was a clattering sound from the other side of the door, and they both froze. For a wild moment, Aurora thought Lucius might help her, that the look in his eye meant that he still withheld some sense of duty to the family she had once held a place in, that he might turn a corner, do something better than he had fifteen years ago, that he might now be able to see her as human. And she did see him struggle, did see him soften, did see his gaze flit around wildly for an exit. His gaze fixed on something above Aurora, and she followed his line of sight to just glimpse a door in the wall, high above them.

Time seemed to slow as they started to move, as he began to shove her roughly in that direction and her mind raced trying to work out what he was doing.

But then the door opened, and Lucius grabbed ahold of her again with his wand to her throat and shouted, "I've got Black! I've got here here!"

Her hope shattered, and the rest of the world jarred back into focus. Her dad was still here, Gwen and Robin were still here; Harry and Hermione and the Weasleys and Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were still here. She could not run. She had to help.

"Leave her to me!" cried Bellatrix Lestrange's wild voice as she stormed into the room, wand raised and crackling with light. Aurora shoved Lucius away as he faltered, and she ducked down, taking the steps behind the dais two at a time, then trying to run up the other side. "My cousin married your mother of filthy blood — well, I got her last time, I'll get you now — but first — Crucio!"

"Protego!" Aurora shrieked, whirling her wand around herself so the shield protected her on all sides. The curse glanced off and she started running, along the circular wall of the room towards the door Lucius had pointed out. Bellatrix tried to hit her with a Stunner, the two other Death Eaters aiming a blasting curse at the wall by her and just barely missing her own face.

Out, out, she needed out.

"Levicorpus!"

"Confringo!"

Bellatrix's shield was better than her own, invisible and yet impenetrable, impossible to detect either weak or strong spots. Aurora stumbled blindly down the steps, a stinging hex on her lips just as some sort of blasting curse soared towards her and hit the steps beside her. She was thrown sideways, and landed hard on her left shoulder, yelling out. Pain lanced through her, but the stinging hex flew from a poorly aimed wand. It missed Bellatrix, but hit another Death Eater in the neck, and they twisted, hissing and stumbling into the shadows.

She neared the veil, panting, her harsh breath like ice in her throat. Terror was building inside of her, along with a restless energy — she threw that energy back in Bellatrix's face with a blasting curse that hit just before her feet. She sprung a shield around herself, shimmering like glass, about to break any second.

Each curse that hit it felt like a light slap to the stomach, but they did not penetrate the shield. Yet, Aurora could feel the strain upon her shoulders and her chest, travelling down her arms. She could not do anything except focus on the shield and hope that some miracle came through. The magic inside of her did not feel like her own; soon, she was sure, it would give up on her.

Behind her, the veil beckoned.

"It would be easy, Lady Black," came Castella's voice like a snake's hiss in her ear. "A few steps back."

She saw Death wrapped in the shadows around the room. His eyes were smoke but they implored her to stay where he could see her.

"You cannot hold this shield forever," Bellatrix snarled, halting her companions' assaults. "You are just a girl."

"I'm Lady Black," Aurora said, trying to pour confidence into her words even as her hands trembled around her wand. "You will stand down."

High cackles rang around the room. Only Lucius did not make a sound, still watching her with soulless, haunted eyes. In a way, that was even more unnerving.

"I will take what is mine," Bellatrix purred, stepping closer. Her boots echoed on the stone floor. "Like I should have done many, many years ago."

"You won't," Aurora said, taking a wild gamble, "Narcissa will never support you as Lady Black if you kill me. You'd need her. My father is my next of kin, not you."

That did not even give Bellatrix a moment of pause. "What my sister doesn't know won't hurt her. Will it, Lucius?"

After a moment's strained silence, Lucius merely said, "No one need know anything about tonight's events. Now, Bella, you need not play with your food."

"Oh, but it's so fun," Bellatrix squealed, "the little lamb's trembling like a leaf, look at her!"

She could feel the sneer and the judgment — could hear the words weak, weak, echoing in her ears, her grandmother's voice. She was Lady Black; she could not be weak.

But she was scared. Her life seemed to condense around her, shrinking to seconds, and her soul seemed to scream at her to just run, to stop all of this, because everything was slipping out of her grasp. Her death seemed inevitable, somehow.

She pulled on the threads of her fear, stepping back. "You don't scare me," she said, voice hoarse. She placed her free hand on the stone arch by the veil. "I've survived you, and Fate had a reason for that. Lord Arcturus raised me." She tilted her chin in defiance. "I am Lady Black."

"Then Lady Black will die," Bellatrix spat, "and a new one shall rise, as I was destined!"

"You are not destined," she snapped back, "Death tells me so himself!"

For the first time, Bellatrix looked taken aback. Her wand dropped ever so slightly. "Death speaks with you?" she asked, voice curling with the strain of the insult.

A nerve had been caught. Aurora just had to keep her attention; the others all seemed to follow her lead, at least on this.

"He has done for years," Aurora bragged, feeling Julius' pleased hiss around her neck. "He trusts me with many secrets of the family's fate."

For no discernible reason, Bellatrix straightened, and tore the mask from her face.

Aurora was left momentarily stunned. She looked like Andromeda, if Andromeda dyed her hair black and starved herself for months. And they had all the same parts of Aurora too. Those eyes, that nose — they were all far too familiar, and it sent a chill right through her.

"What has he told you, child?" Bellatrix asked, face and teeth bared, a low hiss of anger in her voice. "Tell me!"

"I would not betray Death's confidence," Aurora said, and she swore she could have seen silver eyes twinkling from the shadows. "But his faith is proof of my legitimacy."

"The ancestors will reject you," Bellatrix sneered. At Aurora's lack of reply — will, when, what did she mean? — Bellatrix let out a cold, high laugh, and inched closer to Aurora, circling her like a vulture circling a carcass. "Has nobody told you what you must do, child? Not even Death? Not even your dear great-grandfather?" Aurora's heart seized. Don't cry, came the whisper from the veil. "Oh, he didn't!" Bellatrix pouted. "He always was a silly old man."

"He was not, don't you dare—"

"Oh, he went off the rails later in life! All this talk of defiance, against the Dark Lord — he was a tad too keen on filth for my taste. A guilty conscience, I suppose." She bared her teeth. "He got his comeuppance with you. Such a failure."

"What — Arcturus was brilliant! And I have not failed him. I will not!"

"You must. It is inevitable." Bellatrix beamed, and the look of joy was so strange on her face that it turned Aurora's stomach. Bellatrix seemed to have some absolute to, despite only seeing her now, scrape at her surface and reveal her most deep-rooted fears. She was going to kill her. And she was going to love every second of.

Cold, cornered, Aurora tried to back away. "She lies," Julius hissed in defiance, and Castella's voice echoed in her head just the same.

"I don't care," Aurora snarled at Bellatrix in return, letting herself feel the energy pulsing through her. It was a similar feeling to that she got when she was listening to dance music, just the intro, building up and up until she could fling her arms out and move like she knew she should. She tilted her chin defiantly. "Lord Arcturus chose me. He despised you." That, she was assured of, and she gave Bellatrix such a fierce glare that she was sure she knew she meant it, too. "You have no right to my title."

"It is not your title," Bellatrix said, advancing. Aurora tried to look at Harry, urge him silently to run — Bellatrix was distracted, and the others looked to her for their guidance. If this trap was set for her, she would use it to get her friends out of danger. If only Harry were not so stubborn as to not take the opportunity. Frustrated and fearful, she looked Bellatrix up and down with a sneer. "You are not worthy even to bear the name."

"Yet I do, and you do not. Lestrange is still a lesser family, is it not?"

Bellatrix's anger made her lunge forwards, and Aurora scurried backwards, closer to the veil that taunted her even now with its phantom whispering. "Do not speak to me in such a way, you insolent brat!" Her gaze had alighted on the necklace around Aurora's throat, and then dared to the rings shining from her hand. "Those jewels are not your right."

"They are certainly not yours." Aurora smirked, hoping that by pretending she had some confidence, she might play for time, might throw Bellatrix off. "What's the problem, cousin? Don't have the guts to curse me, for all your talk?"

But her gaze was fixed on the lapis nocte ring, some fatal recognition in her eyes. She looked up, shoulders set terribly still, as Aurora backed towards the veil. "Afraid, are you?" she dared to taunt her. "I know where you're looking."

Bellatrix's gaze snapped up, icy eyes full of lethal fire. It was like a cold knife of terror had surged through Aurora as she looked at her, her life coming back into perspective and then narrowing down, condensing to this one moment as she fumbled for the stone arch behind her and felt its cool embrace. "You think you know so much," Bellatrix purred, advancing, "but you don't know the first thing about this family, so you? You don't even know the jewels you adorn yourself with — you think yourself a lady!" She let out a sharp laugh like the striking of steel. "Oh, you shall die in fire!"

That made something snap inside of her, the threat combined with all the insults before. The shield shattered and so did the tense coil of magic inside of her. Aurora lunged forward, poised with her wand, as surely as if she were leaping into the first steps of an allegro.

The duel started anew; Aurora hurled hexes and cursed and tried desperately to keep up her shield as she leapt over the stairs. It was like her very essence was exploding out of her, and the further she got from the veil, the stronger the tension got.

A yell caught her attention from the other side of the room, and she twisted, narrowly avoiding running into wayward spellfire as Harry and Neville sprinted into the room, stumbling down the benches towards the dais.

Bellatrix froze, her gaze turning onto the prophecy in Potter's hand, and in the room's momentary stasis, Aurora tried to catch her ragged breath, powerless to stop the swell of Death Eaters that followed Harry and Neville into the room.

This was it. They were trapped. A sense of expectation hung in the air.

Lucius Malfoy took off his mask and met her eyes. He was paler than she expected, his eyes wider and more desperate, but when he spoke it was with his usual cool drawl. Tightly leashed energy burned in her veins.

"Potter," Lucius said smoothly, "your race is run. Now hand me the prophecy like a good little boy."

"Let — let the others go and I'll give it to you!"

Another chorus of laughter. Aurora felt sick to her stomach. There was nothing she could do now, nothing but wait and hope and try to find a way out that didn't require her to do the impossible and take out a dozen adults in one go.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter. Three of you, against all of us?"

"We can take you!" Neville declared, foolishly.

"Neville, no — go back to Ron!"

But Neville didn't listen, barrelling down the benches towards them. "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupef—"

One of the Death Eaters grabbed him and pinned him down, and it was all Aurora could do not to scream.

"Longbottom, isn't it? Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to the cause."

They all laughed, and no one laughed harder than Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Let Longbottom go," Aurora drawled, stepping down, "everybody knows he can't even levitate a feather to save his own skin."

"Making new friends, are you, cousin?" Bellatrix sneered. "How lovely, that you can all die together."

"I found my enemies had already been made for me," she retaliated, looking Lucius up and down. There was a fleeting look in his eyes, like a momentary flash of guilt.

"This is a lovely little reunion, isn't it?" Bellatrix said, a truly horrid smile coming over her face. "I knew Aurora's dear departed mother, and I believe I was acquainted with the Longbottoms too. A long time ago, now."

"I know you have!" Neville shouted, writhing in the Death Eater's grip.

"Someone stun him!"

"No, no, no," Bellatrix said, a gleeful and sadistic smile on her face as she looked between Neville, Aurora, and Harry. "No, let's see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents… Unless Potter wants to give Lucius the prophecy."

"Don't give it to them!" Neville roared. "Don't give it to them!"

Bellatrix raised her wand with a smile and Aurora didn't know how to stop her, didn't know how to do anything but stare in shock and horror as she said with a bitter laugh and cruel smile, "Crucio."

Neville screamed, his whole body convulsing under the torture, and Aurora let out a shriek with him, running forward. "Stop — stop it! Let him go, stop this now!"

"That was just a taster," Bellatrix said, dropping the spell as Neville fell to the floor, sobbing. "Would you like to try it out too, little Aurora?" She was on her in a second, wand held to her chest with one hand and a silver dagger gleaming in the other.

She didn't want to die like this, but right now she could see no other way. "Potter, what say you? You can give me the prophecy, or, you can choose — Black or Longbottom, who should I kill first?"

Harry stepped forward as Aurora knew he would, his arm outstretched, his face pale and hands quivering. Aurora had a thousand things to say to Bellatrix and none of them would leave her. She merely stood, holding her gaze and standing her ground, against the smiling sadist who had changed everything her life had been meant to be.

But she let the magic gather in her, let the voices in her head grow louder, let Castella's spirit break through as she had been trying to the for the last two weeks. That spirit had been itching for magic through every practical exam, and the veil seemed to call upon it even louder. Julius's presence loomed in the shadows, and Castella's ring burned, and her voice hissed in her head.

She gripped her wand tighter and pressed closer to Bellatrix. The threat of cold silver at her throat only served to push adrenaline through her, delude her into believing she was strong.

Then she lunged to the side, grabbed onto the stone arch, and forced her body around the side. Her fingertips grazed the veil and she pulled, meeting Death's eye across the room, and flung her wand arm outwards with no spell on her lips but plain fear and fury in her heart.

Darkness exploded from the tip of her wand, forcing Bellatrix back. Her head was filled with screaming, cold hands wrapped around her own wrist. "Let us out — you do not deserve — filthy blood — Death has come, Fate has lost!"

She was screaming, too, and she didn't even realise it. Bellatrix had retaliated with a curse of her own, but black smoke filled the room and held her back even as pain latched onto Aurora's nerves. Her mind seemed to fold in on itself, the ache going back years and years until she was a terrified little girl in a big dark house with no one to love her and everything to live up to.

She lunged forwards, fire streaming from the end of her wand. Harry and Neville were still duelling the other Death Eaters, but she and Bellatrix were locked together in this one, curses traded back and forwards. Aurora knew more of Bellatrix's slipped past her, but she barely felt them. She somehow felt more alive than she ever had, running and twisting and turning and dancing through the duel and the rush of adrenaline inside of her. It felt and tasted like power, and she wanted it, chased more as she swept her wand, started pushing Bellatrix back towards the dais and the veil.

And then Bellatrix's hand met the stone, and she met Aurora's eyes, and all the power seemed to suddenly burn out of her.

Bellatrix's eyes lit up with glee as Aurora stumbled backwards, turning and simply running. "Harry, Neville, now!" she screamed, heart heavy in her chest. "Protego!" The hastily erected shield fizzled out at the first curse sent her way.

When Bellatrix cried out, "Transmogrify!" Aurora anticipated the pain. It still knocked all the warmth from her body.

It was like all the bones inside of her were being crushed at the same time. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, her blood like it had been reduced to hot lava, and she was screaming as she hit the ground, legs giving out entirely. She tried to turn, to defend herself, but she couldn't. She was bound to the floor and paralysed by fear, and Bellatrix's face was gleeful as she neared her in a joyous dance of her own.

Aurora's stomach convulsed like the worst cramps she had ever experienced in her life. Pain shot through her chest like a cold blade, and she lurched back, before curling in on herself with a pathetic whimper.

"Poor dear," Bellatrix cooed, "writhing like a worm."

Her neck seared, as though a blade had been taken to it and her throat cut open. Phantom hands squeezed at her, and her mind went blank; all she could think of was the white-hot pain, the terror of it and the agony. "Didn't anybody tell you?" Bellatrix asked sweetly, hopping down the steps towards Aurora as hot tears filled her eyes. "In my family, we don't cry."

"Let me..." Her voice failed her. Bellatrix laughed.

"I can make it quick," she said, "it's rather tragic to see how far the Black family has fallen. This is what happens when you mix good blood with filth. Sad little girls who think they're great, and die for it."

Terror had her in its grip. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her wand tightly, but her mind was so clouded by pain that she could not think.

Bellatrix neared her, silver dagger glinting. It was strange, Aurora managed to sense, that she wanted to draw blood, in such a crude, Muggle way. Somehow, that registered with her.

The cold silver around her neck seemed to fight against the echoing pain. For a moment, she managed to turn and get a view of the room. Neville and Harry were still fighting, and Harry seemed to be trying to make his way over to her, face determined and, if she dared to believe it, worried.

Aurora's hands found the necklace, her fingertips brushed over Julius and he woke with a hiss. She could not speak, but he knew her words, and when Bellatrix came closer with that dagger, silver met silver, almost like he was trying to bite the dagger itself. Bellatrix faltered, for just a moment, and the pain faded to an echo around her, and Aurora managed to move, just out of the way, just enough that she could make out the stampede of footsteps behind the door a moment before it burst open.

Leah MacMillan led the charge, Robin and Gwen behind her, and she screamed over her shoulder into the darkness, "In here!"

Aurora barely had time to register what was going on; all she knew was that the pain was receding and Bellatrix's attention had fixed itself on Gwen, and that pulled her to her senses, fear tugging her upright.

"Gwen!" she screamed as her friend whirled around, narrowly dodging a curse.

"Potter!" Leah screamed. "Longbottom! Get out of here, now!"

Harry darted down the stairs, grabbing Neville as he went, and Robin's shield covered them, glimmering blue. Aurora moved to her feet, too slowly, the world shuddering and slowing around her.

Spellfire rained down from the doorway, sparks flying, and Lucius Malfoy stopped, stared, transfixed, much like a first year caught out of hours by Professor Snape.

Harry's hand reached out to haul Aurora to her feet, and she sagged into his side, barely feeling her legs as she ran, towards the door and the storm of people in blue robes surging into the room.

Not the Order. Leah looked triumphant as she darted towards them, hand outstretched to the man leading the charge. Lord MacMillan.

"Go, children!" he bellowed as they stumbled towards them. "Now!"

"Lord MacMillan, what—"

"Go, Potter! Your friends are safe in the Atrium."

"Sirius—"

"Safe. With his associates. Incendio!" He rained fire upon a Death Eater and that was the end of the conversation; the six children sprinted from the room, through a door marked with an upside down triangle, and up the stairs, not risking the closer quarters of a precarious lift shaft.

There were two sets of arms keeping Aurora upright now, and she didn't have the time or mental space to think about it, or to be ashamed of leaning on anybody. She just had to keep running, even as spells began to rain down behind her, bouncing off the walls of the Ministry. Up and up and up they went, firing hexes blindly behind them at the pursuing Death Eaters. All she had to go off was Bellatrix's high cackling and Lucius' furious shouting, until they broke into the high-ceilinged atrium of the Ministry and saw, at last, the Order.

Her father, followed by Remus, Kingsley, Moody, and Dora. Her dad caught sight of her first and grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the line of spell fire. "Aurora," he panted, "the Order's here, you're alright — you're — sweetheart, what's happened? Harry?"

"Lord MacMillan and some of the Aurors are fighting for us," Harry said, his voice distant as he hauled Aurora onwards, her dad now wrapping them both in his arms. "They're wearing blue — but they're on our side. Bellatrix Lestrange is here, she — she did something to Aurora..."

"I'm going to be okay," she said, even as her body felt like it was about to implode.

Her vision was clearing somewhat. She could survey the scene around her, slowing in the midst of the spellfire.

She spied Ron Weasley sagging at the edge of the room, red scars already wrapping around his neck; Luna and Hermione passed out; Ginny furiously struggling against her own father's arms to try and get away. Near her, Gwen stood with a blossoming bruise on her cheek, and her hair lightly singed and still smoking. Robin, somehow, looked entirely unscathed. And Leah was here, which wasn't supposed to be the case and — oh, Merlin.

Her stomach lurched. Bellatrix had reappeared but she had bypassed Aurora completely, instead locking herself into a duel with Dora, sparks flying between them.

She was after Aurora's family. Her heart pounded, hands numb around her wand. "You lot, go join the others, over there. Harry, take Aurora."

"I'm not letting you—"

"Go!"

It was too late, her father had taken off and Dolohov was after them, and Aurora could see Nott's face lurching into view, mask abandoned, and almost all the Death Eaters were maskless now, and she knew almost every face.

Her throat closed up in shame and fear both, and she backed away from Potter, slipping out of his grip. Gwen and Robin and Leah had all run headfirst into duels, like there was nothing to it, like it was just the right thing to do, the first instinct. But Aurora cowered, and she hated that her legs shook now, thag everything seemed to catch up to her and, Merlin, she was so terribly tired.

But she could not stop.

Everything happened too fast. Gwen took a curse from Nott and Robin punched him in the face and Dora was flung against the wall and Bellatrix turned her wand on Sirius and Harry and Aurora's world slowed into nothing, folding into panic and fear and the overwhelming pain of loss that she had felt before, too many times, that she refused to feel again, and she remembered the veil, its enticing pull, and she remembered its words, and she remembered Bellatrix and the shadow of death and she remembered how much she loved them, and she tried to remember how to be brave.

She clasped her hands together, ran her fingertips over the black stone of her ring, let the whispers between it and the veil some way beneath her grow stronger inside of her head. Light sparked along the ground either side of her.

A jet of brilliant, blinding white light shot out the end of Bellatrix's wand towards Aurora's father, and though she could not stop its trajectory, she had to do something.

She let all her rage and terror mix with the restless energy and fear from Castella, let every emotion rise back up inside her, and she screamed as she ran, launching herself onto Bellatrix's back and forcing her to the ground as Castella's spirit leapt out of her. A shadow barrelled towards the spell, drowning it out, and Aurora let the burning of Castella's power warp around her. She pressed her ring to Bellatrix's cheek, revelled in the sound of her pained gasp as the metal burned her skin.

"Don't you dare," she spat. "Don't you dare hurt him."

Bellatrix grinned. She didn't need to say anything, only just raised her wand, to send a wave of pain crashing through Aurora. She screamed, lurching away, just barely managing to catch sight of her father, still alive but stumbling, hurrying towards her with Harry in his wake. Bellatrix launched herself upwards, hands snatching around Aurora's throat, and dragged her backwards.

She kicked out, trying to shove Bellatrix away, but there was venom in her very breath, and she was stronger than she ought to be. Her wand was pressed to Aurora's throat, the well-known curse on the tip of her tongue.

"You think you can challenge me, little girl?" she asked, bitterness in her voice. "You think you can do anything to me? You are no lady."

Her sharp nails crept closer to the rings on Aurora's fingers. The tip of her wand got close to the bob of her throat, trailing down.

It caught on the silver chain and Julius hissed. Bellatrix froze, just long enough that her voice stuttered over the word, "Transmogrify!"

For a moment Aurora wasn't sure if she existed at all. The pain rushed back and washed over her, not just on her skin but inside of her; her chest, her stomach, her mind, like it was warping and twisting her insides. She was vaguely aware of her father's voice, of someone barrelling into Bellatrix behind her and letting her free, then another set of hands grabbing her, hauling her away. A helpless feeling set in with the pain, a sort of devastation not unlike the feeling the Dementors gave her, like she was never going to truly live, never going to see any light, until she was hauled away, and her vision cleared enough to see Theodore, leaning over her, and panic seized her throat.

"You shouldn't be here. I told you not to—"

"We couldn't just stay there, me and Leah. Come on, let's get you safe—"

"But your father and grandfather—"

"I don't care what they think—"

"They'll see us! They'll see me and you, and—"

Fear crowded her throat, fear that Theo didn't understand as he helped her to her feet, hand warm and tight around hers. There was a shield in front of them, she noticed, shimmering blue, following where he moved his wand, guiding her towards the exits.

"I have to help my dad," she said hoarsely. "He's — Bellatrix — she'll kill him, Theo, if she gets the chance, she'll — she's hurt Dora, I can't, I have to — I have to fight."

He looked at her with fear in his eyes, terrible and shaken, and asked, "Aurora, you're hurt. You look like you're... You're not well."

She shook her head. "I can't do nothing, Theo, this is my family! My friends!"

And she refused to be a coward, now.

"Then let's go," he said, still holding her hand as they started to run back into the fray and she barely had time to comprehend that it was Theo, with her, fighting against his own family. Theo, risking everything, to do the right thing, like she had dreamed Pansy or Draco might one day.

And yet she was scared of that, scared of what would happen, as Lord Nott's eyes alighted on his grandson, as the reality set in that she'd been right, this was too dangerous, that the hatred glimmering in Lord Nott's eyes was murderous.

She disentangled herself from Theo, whirled around to blast Bellatrix away from Neville and Robin, and ran to her father with Theo behind her, reaching out as he coiled back after sending Dolohov sprawling with blood pooling from beneath his robes. She had forgotten, in the year that had passed since Duelling Club finished, how good of a duellist Theodore was, but he launched himself into the fight with the same strength and confidence as her father did, even with the hood of his school robes pulled over his head.

Aurora managed weak stunners and hexes, flung as hard as she could even as she felt the strength inside of her fade and the well of magic in her gut recede. "Stay behind me," her dad said as they turned and ducked away from the white light of Rodolphus Lestrange's curse. "Both of you, get down! Where's Harry?"

She had absolutely no idea. All she could think about was the fight, the next move, the dance from one attack to another, out of the line of fire and then back in, twisting and turning and dodging, weaving between her father and Theodore. And then, she caught sight of Potter, screaming her dad's name, saw him turn and be hit by a blinding red light and collapse onto the floor.

She saw her father charge forward, knocked back in a spray of blood, and she barely had the time to register how her heart shattered and her soul screamed, before a curse hit the roof, and the Fountain of Magical Brethren, and the glass chandelier up above start to shake, and her wand clattered to the floor, finally splintering as one last burst of magic fled from her spirit.

It was like time had shifted inside of the atrium. Half the battle had disappeared, into different rooms; she could still hear the sound of it, echoing up through lift shafts. And now the whole place trembled, like there had been some great earthquake, and a deafening blast of sheer chaotic noise echoed around the room, followed by a howl like the screaming cold wind. Aurora felt herself fall to the floor, knees clattering onto cold marble, Theo and Leah either side of her. She saw her father go down, and then, Potter, clutching his forehead in pain, as a cloaked figure slipped from the shadows.

Even just seeing him and knowing who that silhouette belonged to struck terror into Aurora's chest. A pale face, near translucent, with prominent veins, and red eyes, and flat slits where a nose should have been. There was no colour about him, that was the most startling thing; it was like the man that once had been had been wiped blank. He wore pure black robes, like shadows, slipping over the marble floor. Death danced around him.

He had eyes only for Harry Potter.

"I see you've lost my prophecy." Voldemort's voice was softer than Aurora had imagined. It chilled her to the bone.

"Master!" Bellatrix cried breathily from the edge of the room. "It was not our—"

"Silence, Bella." She pressed her lips closed, and Aurora forgot how to breathe. Her hand reached out to Theo's, and he took it, warm and tight. "I have nothing more to say to you, Potter. You have irked me for too long." Death grinned in the shadows, and Aurora knew what was about to happen before it did. She could see the green light prematurely, could feel its cold touch; she knew her father was unconscious and everybody else distant or frozen. Potter was alone. He was on the ground. She could not see his wand.

She looked Death in the eye and thought, with all her might, a thought she never thought she would have. "Save him!" she screamed inside her mind.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort bellowed and Aurora lurched to her feet, knowing only that she would not, could not, let Harry Potter die, that if she did then it would be all her fault, that he did not deserve this, that he was good and kind and she could not let him die, because if she could save him then she could save her father and Dora and nobody had to die tonight, nobody could be allowed to die.

But it was not she who leapt in front of the curse, but a golden statue from the fountain, come to life.

"What?" Voldemort gasped, whirling around. His eyes narrowed. "Dumbledore!"

At last. The bastard had come right at the end. Why could he not have shown himself earlier?

The fountain leapt to life and the world seemed to burst into light as the duelling started anew, around the dome of light which contained Voldemort and Harry and Dumbledore, locked in their own world. Aurora felt utterly useless, frozen and trapped and only able to watch as her friends duelled, as a Death Eater caught Gwen in the back and she could only run to her, use all her remaining strength to haul her away from the fight. She wasn't breathing. Aurora was sure she wasn't breathing and her own breath compensated, coming too heavy and too fast, and she curled her arms around her friend and tried not to cry as she pulled her from the battle.

She could not lose her. Her conscience warped and it burned her, and she only prayed that she was wrong, and glared at Death and dared him to let her friend die. His eyes twinkled in response.

Gwen let out a shuddering gasp and Aurora held her tight, placing her down next to the Weasleys. "Aurora—"

"Shhh," she whispered, brushing her hair back. "You're alive."

Gwen's eyes widened and her gaze caught on something behind Aurora. "Bellatrix."

She whirled around, seeing only the crowding of lights in the centre of the room, and vague silhouettes darting around between it. "What about her? Did she hurt you — Gwen, I — I'm so sorry—"

Harry let out a scream, and Aurora felt her heart splinter in fear for him. Gwen grabbed her hand tight. Ron Weasley stirred. "I can't feel my legs."

"Stay," Aurora said through the lump in her throat, staggering to her feet again, bones weary. "I'll be right back."

That screaming was not normal, that pain was not right, and Harry's friends were gone and she could not trust Dumbledore to save him, not really. And so she ran, and ran, and saw Death wrapped around him like a cloak, and she ran faster, calling his name.

His gaze lifted. His eyes widened. And then his whole body convulsed, and Aurora reached out a hand to pluck him from the fire, and the world exploded in emerald light, before folding into dark, dark shadows.