A few days before Hestia's funeral, Aurora's dad was finally managing to walk again. Slowly, but surely, he was getting better. Aurora helped him keep himself stable on turns about the wing in St. Mungo's, but his improvement was quickening now, and the Healers seemed optimistic that he would be able to get home soon. Aurora still stayed with him every moment of visiting hours, and in the evenings and at nights, found herself still feeling unmoored. She kept wishing she could have Theo here, to reassure her, and hold her when she was frightened and in desperate need of grounding. Her mind ran away with her, spiralling with regrets, but she knew this was what needed to happen. Her dad was going to be alright, she kept assuring herself of that. He had to be.

Harry was meant to be coming back to Arbrus Hill the evening before Hestia's funeral, and Aurora was hopeful they could stick to the plan. Molly and Arthur had offered for him to stay at the Burrow, if need be, or for them to move to keep him at Headquarters again for a while, but both options discomforted Aurora. She would much rather be able to see that he was safe herself, and she did not want to step foot in Grimmauld Place for a long time, still putting off the talk she knew she needed to have with Kreacher. Dumbledore had spoken to him, enough to block him from doing any further damage, but Aurora knew it was her responsibility, really — she just did not have space in her mind for it, no matter how wrong she felt she was for that.

"I've asked Gisela to visit," her dad told her when they returned to his room that day. "You know, from France."

"Yes." Aurora frowned at him. "I know. Why?"

"Well, she's an ally to the Order, and she might be able to make some use of being here. She'll be staying at Headquarters, of course, but I thought you should know. Dumbledore thinks she'll make a great asset."

"I see." Aurora curled up in her seat, hugging her knees over her long jumper. "Do you think she knows more about Regulus than she's letting on?"

He glanced away. "I don't know, to be honest. Maybe. She wants to work with us, anyway."

Aurora did not find herself fully convinced, or at ease with this. "I don't think I trust her."

"You haven't met her."

"Exactly. It seems very convenient that she happens to be in the right place for you to find her, and she knew my uncle, and that you suddenly care about his fate, and might help the Order — if she was so close to him, how do you know she isn't already connected to Voldemort's forces?"

Seeming taken aback by the wording, her father paused, blinking. "I've always cared about Regulus."

"You've never cared to find out…" She trailed off, held her tongue. She did not want an argument. She did not even know what she would argue, if it came to it. "Never mind. We'll see what she's like."

"I thought you'd want to meet her," her dad said, still sounding surprised. "I thought you'd want to hear about Regulus from a better source."

"Maybe," she said in a low voice. "But I don't really know what I want anymore." Then she forced herself to smile, to skate past the issue, and say, "I just want you better and I want you to be happier than you were recently, so, it's fine. You just need to get better first."

"I am better," he reminded her, with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "And I'll be out soon."

-*

The evening before Hestia's funeral, her father finally came home to Arbrus Hill. It was too early, Aurora felt. He was still weak and she constantly felt like someone should be coming to check on him. Even though there were to be Healers visiting three times a day, it did not feel like enough for her to be certain that he was alright. Still, she tried to put on a brave front for her dad, who was glad of his own home and to have Harry coming to join them soon.

Later that night, just as they were finally settling in, and her father going over his medication with Tippy in the kitchen, Kingsley arrived by Floo in the lounge, quite unexpectedly, while Aurora was trying to go over her Charms work. She jumped back with a start, reaching for her wand, before she realised who it was. "Kingsley," she said, "what are you doing here?"

"Where's your dad?"

"In the kitchen — he's with the elves." She stood up gingerly, heart pounding. "Is something wrong? Is Harry alright?"

"Harry's fine," he told her quickly, "don't worry — Dumbledore's picking him up tonight, just as planned. Sirius?"

Her dad appeared in an instant, hurrying through from the kitchen. She gave him a look of disapproval, then turned it on Kingsley; he was not supposed to be disturbed or have to move quickly, without assistance. "Kingsley? I didn't expect you — everything alright?"

"No." Kingsley shook his head grimly. "It's not anything to do with Harry, before you start panicking. I'm afraid it's Emmeline and Amelia." He swallowed tightly, and Aurora could see the slight tremor in his usually calm expression, as the dread of the worst news sank in. "There was an attack, Sirius. They were both dead before we could reach them."

Susan, Aurora thought immediately with an aching heart, before even Emmeline and Amelia's own faces rushed into her memory. Amelia hadn't even been in the Order. Though she supposed, the Ministry was at war, now. This should not have been unexpected, but it still came as a shock to all of them.

"Dear Merlin," her dad said, sagging into a seat on the sofa. Kingsley sat down beside him, their shoulders pressed closely together. "You'd think Amelia… Do you know who got them?"

Kingsley shook his head. "Not yet, but we're working on it. Snape reckons he has an idea of who it might have been, but we don't have any official leads."

"I wouldn't trust what he says," Aurora muttered before she could stop herself.

"Well, I have to consider it anyway." Kingsley sighed and glanced at the clock. "They weren't on duty, either of them. Emmeline was visiting Amelia, and I suppose somehow, a Death Eater found out, or was following their movements…" His gaze shifted, unfocused, around the room. Aurora sat back down on her armchair, curling up. Stella, as though sensing the atmosphere, appeared from a corner of the room and leapt up into her lap, staring with bright eyes.

"What about Amelia's niece, Susan? She lives with her…"

"She's safe. She was, by luck, staying with some of the Abbott family." Hannah. Thank Merlin for that. "We've determined she's safe with them for the foreseeable future."

That was something, at least. But she knew Susan would be devastated. So many of her friends were losing people at the moment, and it terrified her, how precarious life really seemed to be.

"I'll fetch you a brandy," Aurora's dad said to Kingsley, hand on his shoulder, "you look like you need it."

"No, no, you don't need to get up. And I should be going, really. They'll need me to lead on this — with no head of the department, I'll have to step up."

Her father frowned, pursing his lips. "You're sure?"

"I only came to tell you."

"Stay," her dad said, look almost pleading, "you need it."

Kingsley shook his head with a sigh. "I'm needed more at the Ministry. If nothing else, to comfort my staff. Amelia was… A terrific woman. She held that department together for years, kept us on the right path… I don't think we can ever be the same after this. She knew we needed her; that's why she didn't run for Minister, and nominated Scrimgeour in her place. She said, her department was the most important, and it had to stay strong and stable. But now…" He spread his arms out, looking defeated. "I suppose the enemy knew it, too."

"I'm so sorry," Aurora's dad said gently, squeezing Kingsley's shoulder. "I know I didn't know her as well as you did, either of them, but — well. They were brilliant."

"Yes." Kingsley swallowed tightly and glanced away and Aurora felt all of a sudden that she was intruding on something that she did not really have the right to be privy to. "Yes, they were."

He stood, somewhat shaky, but with resolve on his face. "I had best be off. You'll be alright, here?"

"Course," her dad said, standing on wobbly legs. He reached out to Kingsley, then stopped at the last moment, letting his hands dropped. "Let me know if you need anything — anything at all."

"I will," Kingsley promised. Aurora glanced away, stroking Stella's fur gently. "Thank you, Sirius. And take care, both of you — if anything seems amiss here, let someone know." He paused, took a deep breath. "I'll see you both tomorrow, then."

"Yeah," her dad said, voice distant. "Tomorrow."

Aurora stared at the ground, let them say goodbye. When Kingsley left, the house returned to silence, permeated only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. The room felt suddenly cold, empty. She stood, standing close at her father's side. "Maybe we should get an early night," she told him in a whisper. "I'll double-check the wards and locks."

-*

When Aurora woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door at two in the morning, she almost fell out of bed in fright. She grabbed her wand instantly, heart pounding. Kingsley's words about Emmeline and Amelia flooded back to her, nauseating.

As quiet as she could be, Aurora stole out into the landing, where her dad already was, hurrying down the stairs in his dressing gown. "Stay back," he ordered her in a whisper. "I'm going as Padfoot."

"That's definitely not safe. Or healthy, for you. I'll go first."

"No," he hissed, face stern, and cut in front of her, to hurry down the next flight of stairs towards the front door. Aurora sighed, and waited a moment in tense fear before following him down.

"Who's there?" her dad asked, shouting through the door.

"It's me!" came Harry's muffled voice from outside, and they both sagged in relief. "Why's the door locked?"

"Harry, it's two in the bloody morning!"

"I know, but Dumbledore wanted me to go visit this weird old man with him — can you let me in?"

"Hang on," Aurora said, hurrying to her father's shoulder. "How did I make you tell me about the philosopher's stone in first year?"

"What?"

"Just answer the question, so we know it's you."

"You blackmailed me," he said shortly, clearly still annoyed. Her dad turned to her with his eyebrows raised, questioning and curious.

"About?"

"Norbert. Can you just let me in, it's bloody freezing?"

"Fine," she muttered, and her dad unlocked the door, pulling it open.

Harry hurried in, dragging his trunk and owl cage behind him. Hedwig hooted in Aurora's face, peeved, and she glared back. "Are you mad?"

"We have to ask security questions now," Aurora told him, hurrying to close and lock the door again. "Haven't you read the Ministry pamphlets? They've spent enough money on them, you ought to at least read it!"

"Oh, yeah — skimmed it." He rolled his eyes and then hugged Aurora's dad, grinning. "Good to see you're back, Sirius."

"Well, mostly," her dad said, "still got a bit of work to do, but I've kept my remarkable good looks, so that's all that really matters." He hugged Harry tighter and asked, "Those Dursleys have been treating you alright? I know your letters said—"

"It was fine," Harry assured him, letting go. "Promise. Dudley actually seems to have some sort of grudging respect for me, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were properly shaken up by Dumbledore. Reckon it did its job. Oh, and I met the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor," he added to Aurora, who raised her eyebrows, pleasantly surprised.

"Supreme detective work?"

"Nah, Dumbledore took me to try and convince him to come back. Horace Slughorn, his name is."

Her dad stifled a snort. "He's not the Defense teacher, Harry. He taught Potions in my day — right twit. He'll love you two."

"Really?"

"Oh, he liked anyone with a good name, or the right breeding. Mind you… If he's Potions, that means Snape…"

"Out of a job?" Harry and Aurora shared excited grins.

"That's the dream. But no, I've got a horrible idea he'll get he wants."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts. Really, why?"

"Beats me."

"Maybe Dumbledore finally decided he should let him be brutally murdered."

Her father chuckled darkly. "I should be so lucky. One can dream." Still, he looked perplexed, unnerved by the decision. "Anyway — let's get your trunk, Harry, and you two can get to bed. Aurora's grumpy when her sleep's disturbed."

"I'm not grumpy," she muttered, glaring at him.

He just laughed, and took one side of Potter's trunk, Harry lifting the other. "Come on, you can give me the full debrief over breakfast."

At breakfast, Aurora tried her very best not to appear grumpy, no matter how grumpy she was actually feeling. Harry relayed all the details of the night before, how Dumbledore had shown up to tell the Dursleys the plan of how they would deal with their relationship with Potter going forward, and that he would only have one more visit to them next year, and then taken Harry to see his would-be Professor, hoping to endear him with Harry's name and mysterious 'chosen-one' allure.

"He mentioned your brother," he told Sirius, "he was in a picture, Regulus."

Aurora stared at the table, picking at her toast. "Yeah, Slughorn loved Reggie." Her father was unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. "Perfect son, perfect student, perfect grades." Still, his face turned ponderous. Aurora was sure he was wondering if Slughorn might know more about Regulus's fate, that could help to sate her father's curiosity and guilt. "I bet he'll find you to talk to as soon as he can, Aurora. Always wanted to collect the Black family, get as many potentially powerful people on side as he could."

"Yeah," Harry chimed in, "he said something about wishing he'd gotten the set of you all in Slytherin."

Her dad snorted. "Course he did. Nah, he had me in his little club for a while, before James made me realise it was all bollocks. He would've gotten rid of me as soon as I was disowned anyway, I'm sure."

Harry bit his lip, digesting this. "Dumbledore said he collects people. He thinks I should let him collect me." He glanced sideways at Aurora, who raised her eyebrows.

"And you'll do it, if Dumbledore tells you to?"

Harry shrugged. "Sounded like it was important that I do. Don't know why."

"No one knows why Dumbledore does anything," Aurora's dad said with a long, heavy sigh. "Eat up your breakfast, you two. We ought to get ready as soon as we can."

From then, all minds turned away from Dumbledore and Slughorn and such everyday problems as school.

Hestia's funeral was held in the late morning, at the church in her family's village of Tyrdall, which housed a substantial, hidden, Wizarding community. The church, too, was presided over by a Wizarding minister, Reverend Phillips.

"I didn't realise Hestia was religious," Aurora said to her father as they waited on Harry to finish fixing his hair for the third time.

"Only defiantly," her father told her, which made sense. As a community, many witches and wizards had lost faith in Christianity centuries ago, when the Catholic Church and later various Protestant groups had set about the persecution of magic. Christian practices were upheld, but few were loyal to traditional, organised forms of the religion as muggles knew it. The Wise Church, as it was known, was the main sect of Christianity which served the Wizarding community, and revered not only the divine but the earthen magic, which Arcturus had raised Aurora to respect and attend, though they did not strictly follow it. Most who were Christian had a sense of defiance about it, derived from an age-old need to prove that one could both practice magic and be a good, God-fearing Christian.

"I'm ready now," Harry told them, entering the lounge again. His hair was still a mess, but Aurora did not have the heart to argue with him about it again.

"Right." Her dad checked his watch with a blank gaze. "I suppose we'd better be off. Say Tyrdal Church Hall, you'll pop out in the front room of it — Dora should be there by now, or Remus. Someone from the Order, anyway. I'll be through right after you, but just in case, move towards someone you know, alright?"

They would only be separated for half a minute, at most. But she could see the worry and nerves written all over her dad's face, like he felt the second they disappeared from his sight, they would be gone forever. And she was not far from feeling the same, after everything.

Aurora forced herself to go through the Floo, but when she found herself alone in the other end, even with a room full of people, she felt her throat close up and her chest seize, as suddenly she felt adrift. With shaky legs she stumbled away from the fireplace, saw Harry land behind her, and then waited for one long, agonising moment for her father to join them. She could not make herself move until he was with them, even with Harry's insistence that they went over to Remus. When he did arrive, she let out a sigh of relief, but the tension in her chest did not go away.

All throughout the ceremony, she kept glancing over at her father; her instinct told her to just make sure he was still really there, not let him out of her sight. He was there, with her, he was alright. But she still felt adrift, all day. She rooted herself to him and blocked out the condolences that she did not feel she had earned. She could not bring herself to look at Apollo Jones, only just managing to force out the words, "I'm sorry for your loss."

His answering smile was brief and uneasy. She had forgotten the right words to say, to comfort someone, and did not know him well enough to guess at what he needed to hear.

At last, Dora joined them, at the funeral tea held afterwards in the church hall. She sat down at the table Aurora was sharing with her dad and Harry and the Weasleys; Ron and Hermione were chattering to Harry in hushed tones down the end of the table, and her dad talking to Molly and Arthur about something else, in equally hushed tones, down the other end. Her cousin's hair was a muted, mousy brown which did not suit her in the slightest.

"I don't think Hestia would mind if you kept your hair pink today, you know," she told her. "She liked it, I think."

Dora blinked, confused. "Oh, it's… I just haven't been feeling very pink recently. I think it's a bit… Immature."

Aurora stared at her. "What's going on?" she asked. "That doesn't sound very like you."

Dora shrugged. "Maybe I've grown up a bit. War will do that to a person, so I'm told." The dejectedness of her cousin's tone was something Aurora was not used to hearing. It did not quite make sense, to hear such a tone.

"Well. Whatever the reason, I'm sorry. Are… Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Her voice was weary and exhausted, and Aurora was reminded with a sharp pang of the absences of Vance and Boens, both colleagues of Dora's. She reached out and took her cousin's hand and gripped it tight.

"You can tell me if you're not, you know. We can talk about it — I might be your little cousin, but I'm here for you, too. I don't like seeing you sad."

That brought a small, sad smile to Dora's face; her eyes glimmered with tears. "You're sweet, Aurora. Maybe. But this isn't the place."

She nodded, looking around. Everyone here was weary and exhausted and dejected, it wasn't just Dora. This was only the beginning of what looked to be a very long procession of funerals. "No," she said, "perhaps not. But — promise me, we'll talk?"

Dora have that sad little half-smile again, and it twisted Aurora's heart. "Course. Now, if you'll excuse me — I've to do my rounds. Say hello to everyone." She got up, then hesitated. "If — if you see Remus, will you tell him I want to speak to him?"

"Of course. But why—"

She cut her off by clapping her on the shoulder, ruffling her hair with shaky hands. "Cheers, munchkin. Find me before you go, hm?"

Aurora watched her slip into the crowd too seamlessly, like she was practicing how to blend in. Perhaps that was it; the pink hair, any bright hair, was too distinctive, and Dora could not afford to stand out anymore. War made her have to hide, Bellatrix forced her to keep her head down and a low profile and that was never who Dora was, and it was thoroughly fucked up that anyone could make her that way. Anger surged in her then, anger that some random, cruel force had the power to just reach out to her cousin and tear up everything that she was. She was angry that this would happen to everyone, angry that the whole world was changing and becoming so muted, and she could not stop the onslaught of war and death and murder. No tangible power could do that.

Nothing could stop this, she knew that now. When she slipped a few seats down the table, to sit in the empty chair beside Harry, Hermione Granger kept on talking as if she had always been there, about nothing more important than their upcoming O.W.L. results, and she felt like she was listening to it all with fuzzy ears, filled with radio static. She snuck a glance at Harry, who looked just as bored with the conversation as she was, and just as restless stuck here.

At least she was not alone in this, she thought, for once put at peace by his presence.

"Hey," she said when Granger's breakdown of her anticipated grades broke for a conversation with Bill Weasley about something at Gringotts, "you want to disappear somewhere?"

He gave her a grateful look and stood up immediately. "We're going to check out the buffet," he told Ron and Hermione.

"Wait a minute," Ron said, glancing between them and Bill, "I'll come—"

"Nah," Harry said casually, "we'll grab you something. 'Mione, Bill, want anything to eat?"

"I'm alright, thanks."

"Me, too."

Aurora stood hastily, hurrying away. "You alright?" Harry asked, when they were out of earshot of his friends, but not of all the overeager guests, so many of them craning to get a look at him. Aurora pulled him away from a suspiciously interested group of young wizards, towards the buffet table.

"Yes. No. I don't — I'm sorry, I know she's your friend, but I just can't listen to Hermione talk about her bloody O.W.L.s for another minute, or I actually will go insane." Harry cracked a smile. "I hate this all, anyway. Funerals."

"I've never been to a funeral," Harry said, looking around, "or a graveyard. It's all a lot more… I don't know, restrained, than I'd been expecting."

The family had cried, of course. Many people teared up, dabbed eyes. Now they all helped themselves to a buffet and caught up on gossip with old acquaintances.

"I know," she said, glancing around. "It's odd, isn't it? All that outpouring of grief, all the mourning, and then a social occasion on top. It feels weird, but I suppose that's just how we go on." She shrugged, and took a plate. "Jam tart?"

"No, thanks."

Aurora took as much as she could without being impolite, and hoped she had judged that correctly. Then she and Harry found a quiet corner to lurk in, leaning against the wall and watching the room in silence.

"So," she started, "how was the end of the year?"

There seemed to be something he wanted to tell her, but he hesitated. "Bad. I mean, Umbridge was gone, so that was good. But the rest was crap. I just wanted to be with Sirius, you know that."

"Hm." She did, but there was more to it, and they both knew that. "Is the prophecy bothering you?"

"Yeah. The Prophet's calling me the Chosen One, but I dunno how they got that information."

She had her suspicions — Dumbledore — but she did not want to bring it up. "I suppose you were chosen, in a way. Though the title sounds a bit twattish." She tried to laugh but the sound died. Harry was not amused.

"That teacher, Slughorn, as soon as he knew who I was, he just wanted to know everything. I mean, I've always been famous—" Aurora scoffed, despite herself. "—no, but, the Boy-Who-Lived — anyway. It's different now." He wrinkled his nose. "I don't like it."

"Neither do I," she said flippantly. "You're overshadowing me."

"Shut up."

She shook her head. "Try not to think about this whole prophecy thing. It'll only stress you out, and there's nothing you can do about it anyway."

"That's very helpful. Thanks."

Aurora sighed. "Sorry. But… You know. I'm right."

Harry was quiet for a moment, gaze lingering on different spots around the room. Then he asked, quite unexpectedly,

"Do you know if there was a funeral for my parents?"

"Well." Aurora blinked. "I imagine so, but I don't know anything about it. I suppose Remus would be the only one left… If you want to ask anyone. My dad would know, but…" She got a feeling Harry wanted to know what it was like; what was said, what was done, where they were laid to rest. Part of her wanted to know the same about her mother, she just didn't know how to bring herself to ask.

Harry didn't seem like he really wanted the answer from her. Moreso, he found her a convenient sounding board. She didn't mind that. It was better than if he expected her to have something comforting to say in return.

"Scrimgeour wants to talk to us, you know."

"I know."

"He thinks you're the Chosen One, too. The Ministry wants you on side."

Harry scoffed. "Fuck the Ministry."

With a grin, Aurora looked at him and said, "Nice sentiment. But I think we should hear him out. At least then we know what we're working with."

"Or against."

"Or against," she conceded. "And, I think it's more than likely that Voldemort's forces have already got their claws in about the Ministry. Better we get our people in there, too."

"Who's our people?" he asked, mocking. "You, me, and Ernie MacMillan?"

She shrugged. "Governments have fallen for less. Though I'd rather Leah. Anyway — you don't have to talk to Scrimgeour. But I want to, and I think I will arrange something after the next Assembly meeting. It'd be helpful if you were there. I can do the talking," she added at the look of disgust on his face.

"Yeah. Alright, fair enough." He glanced back to his friends' table. Hermione hailed him over, but he did not move. "You think everyone'll panic if I go for a walk on my own?"

"Yes," she said bluntly. "So, please don't. Take my dad with you."

For the first time, Harry looked somewhat apprehensive about having her dad with him, alone. But then the look cleared and he nodded, pushing off the wall to go and speak to him. They disappeared a moment later, and Aurora stood still, watching.

Just as she was about to go find Dora, Apollo Jones appeared before her. His eyes were rimmed with red, and she felt a sharp pang of sympathy. "Hey," she said, then felt stupid. "Um — I'm really sorry, about Hestia. She was… Lovely." She probably could have said something more to that effect about her during her life. When Apollo did not respond, she added, "It was a lovely service," and tried not to cringe. She hated when people said that sort of thing to her.

"Yeah." Apollo frowned, shaking his head. "She — she was. I just wanted to say, thanks for coming. All of you, it meant a lot." His voice wavered. "I'm sure Aunt Hestia would — she'd really appreciate it, so."

Heavy silence fell between them. Aurora nodded, uncomfortable. "My dad was glad he could make it. She meant a lot to him, and to my mother, I'm told. And me."

"Yeah. Thanks." He blinked, and they ran out of things to say. "Um, I should — my mum—"

"Of course. Go, go."

She watched him go, and surveyed the room. So many people, and all of them under threat, and there was nothing tangible that she yet felt she could do about it. Hestia, Lord MacMillan, Amelia Bones, Emmelina Vance.

She could not help looking around and wondering, who was next, and how much was it going to hurt?