When Aurora and Andromeda came through the Floo the next morning, having not heard anything, and both too anxious to wait at home, it was to find her father and Kingsley Shacklebolt sprawled on a sofa, her father's leg bandaged up. They were both breathing — Aurora checked her father immediately, shaking him until he woke up, bleary-eyed, and smiled.

"We got them."

"Who?"

"Dunno. Rodolphus — Bellatrix's husband. Kingsley chucked him in a cell before he came to bandage me up. Eh, Kings?"

On the other end of the sofa, Kingsley was just coming round, with a very irritated Andromeda glaring down at him. He gave a start, reaching for his wand, before her dad said, "It's only Dromeda, don't fight her."

Kingsley sank back down, abashed. "Sorry. I thought—"

"Was she there?" Andromeda asked, and they all knew who she meant.

Silence was heavy around them. Aurora sank down to lean against the sofa, inspecting the bloodied gauze of her father's bandage. "Yes," her father said, "I almost got her."

Andromeda's jaw tightened. "But you didn't." Aurora didn't like the accusation in her tone.

Her father hung his head. "Next time."

"You'll need to get your leg fixed first," Aurora told him, frowning at it, "and soon. Who wrapped that?"

"I did," Kingsley said, "basic first aid — but Aurora's right, Sirius. We'll get you to St. Mungo's."

"And how are you going to explain that?" Andromeda demanded. "I thought your activities were supposed to be secret."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows as though realising for the first time that Andromeda was not, in fact, a member of the Order — just unfortunate enough to be related to two of them. "So did I," he said drily. "But, no — we'll have Madam Pomfrey in from Hogwarts." Her dad snorted. "Would you rather it were Severus?"

"Merlin, no. I'd be sick at the sight of him." Kingsley rolled his eyes. "But you know either of them will tell Dumbledore."

"I think he'll figure it out soon enough," Aurora said, and her dad groaned. "You might as well put more energy into trying not to die."

He sighed, patting her hair down. "I'm here, aren't I?" he said, voice soft and quiet in her ear. "I told you I'd be back."

He did. At least she had him, for now. She stood, and hauled her dad up with her. "Let's get you seen to at Headquarters before it gets infected. I'm tired of thinking you're dying."

-*

Dumbledore was furious, of course, when he found out. They had a whole, unnecessary meeting at Grimmauld Place, with her dad and Kingsley both called in to the kitchen as though it were the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts. Kingsley at least showed some signs of having listened to the reprimand; if anything, her dad was bolstered by the ticking off.

When Aurora and Harry asked him about it, tentatively, a few days later, he merely said, "If he's not going to lead by actually being around, some of us need to make their own choices. We won't always have him to tell us what to do — Remus needs to develop a fucking backbone."

Neither knew quite what he meant about Remus, and neither wanted to ask. Despite his mild tone, he went into a strop every time Dumbledore or Remus were mentioned, and eventually they stopped asking.

"D'you reckon Remus grassed him up to Dumbledore?" Harry asked one evening, while Gisela and Kingsley were having a hushed talk with her dad in the lounge, and they cooped up and annoyed in Harry's bedroom.

"I don't know," Aurora said, lounging back in the armchair at the foot of his bed. "He doesn't seem the type, but he wasn't impressed with my dad when they were talking about it. I imagine Pomfrey guessed, and Remus gave her the details, and she told Dumbledore — like they're his students."

"Ron said Dumbledore told Mr and Mrs Weasley that they'd compromised one of our spies," Harry said, "and that was the problem."

She had to admit, she could see the point. "Maybe it was a worthy sacrifice."

Harry let out a sigh and flopped backwards onto his bed, glaring at the ceiling. "What d'you reckon they're talking about down there?"

"I don't know," she grumbled. "Probably your birthday party."

Harry groaned. "Is he still wanting to do that?"

"Yes. I don't like it either; personally, I think anyone celebrating your presence needs to check themselves into St. Mungo's." Harry scoffed and promptly lobbed his practice snitch across the room at her; Aurora ducked and caught it deftly, smirking.

"Seriously, though — Reisen's round all the time lately, and so's Kingsley. There's got to be something they're not telling us."

"It isn't possible my dad has friends?"

"I know you want to read into it, too," Harry said, and though she couldn't quite see his face, she knew he was rolling his eyes. "You just want to argue with me."

She threw the snitch back at him, and he whipped his hand out to grab it, quick as lightning. "My dad definitely isn't telling us everything," she agreed, voice slow, "but I don't think it's necessarily about the Order. I think, whatever's going on with Gisela, it's about my uncle, and my dad doesn't want me to know."

"He could at least tell me then, though."

"You've a big mouth," she said, and, anticipating his next half-hearted toss of the snitch towards her, snatched it out of mid-air with a sigh. "That was a crap throw — Gisela's weird, I think. I don't like her. If my dad isn't hiding anything, she definitely is."

"She doesn't like me, I don't think," Harry said lightly.

"That's the only normal thing about her." Lacking a snitch to throw, he shoved at her knee with his foot, and Aurora shrieked, retreating back into the armchair. "Don't put your feet on me, you weirdo! That's so gross!"

Harry sat up, grinning, wiggling his toes. She looked away with a shudder. "Anyway — Merlin, get them away!"

"Why are you afraid of feet?"

"I am not, I just think yours are gross and your socks have snitches on them, which is really embarrassing for you."

Harry rolled his eyes and held his hands out for her to toss the snitch back to. She did so, and he said, "Do you think she knows something about your uncle she's not telling Sirius? Or that he's not telling you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I don't trust her. I don't get why she's here, or why she only seems to care now."

"She doesn't care about me, which is really weird." Aurora scoffed, and he went red. "I don't mean it like that — just, you know, there is the whole chosen one thing, and she hadn't even asked me about it."

"That seems quite sensible of her, considering how you nearly bite the heads off everyone who does ask you about it."

"Yeah, but — look, it's just a bit off that she's come all this way to fight with the Order, and she's with Sirius so much, and hasn't shown any interest in me, when I'm one, Sirius's godson, and two, supposed to be the one who can kill the man they're all fighting." The way his voice wavered on the word kill made Aurora's heart twist. When he tossed the snitch half-heartedly back to her, she fumbled the catch just to let him laugh at her.

"You might have a point," she acquiesced. "But I don't know what it means yet. But." She leaned down and picked up the practice snitch, tossing it between her hands. "We can find out. If she's coming to your birthday party — which is not out the question, I think basically the entire Order's invited themselves — we get her to have a few drinks, when Molly Weasley isn't around to complain about alcohol at a kid's party, and then we interrogate her. I think it'll be easier if I do it, no one'll be paying me very much attention."

"They will," Harry said, almost defensive in his tone.

"Not at your party," she laughed, trying to keep the bitterness from her tone. She had never had someone throw her a birthday party, after all; even the parties she had had at Hogwarts, she had been the one to arrange them. "We have to find out what's going on, anyway. I hate not knowing things."

"I know," Harry said, "you get really annoying about it. Like, even more annoying than usual."

"I'm not giving you a birthday present now, just so you know."

"No," he said flatly, "I'm devastated."

She tossed the snitch right at his forehead, and he didn't quite catch it in time; it hit him square on the nose and he cursed loudly, sitting up, as Aurora burst out laughing at the indignant expression on his face. Rubbing his nose, he glared back at her, but his mouth wobbled into a laugh, and when the snitch sailed right by Aurora's face, she was still, somehow, grinning.

-*

They charged Lord Lannis for Vabsley's murder the day before Harry's birthday, but Kingsley and Dora didn't believe it. "Scrimgeour wants to be seen doing something," Kingsley explained to her and Harry when they asked him, over the dinner table which he had unceremoniously invited himself to, "the opposite of Fudge, basically. It could've been Lannis, I don't think it's wise to rule it out — but the evidence is flimsy."

"Isn't it your duty to make sure it isn't?" Aurora asked, harsher than she had intended. "As an Auror?"

"I have given Scrimgeour my recommendation, that all other suspects still be considered. But he wants the trial to be held as soon as possible, and there's not much I can do to hold the Minister to account."

Harry let out a derisive snort, looking up from his pie. "Sounds like the system's a bit fucked, then."

"Harry," her dad chided, voice weary. Both he and Aurora fixed him with sharp, doubtful glances. "Well, yeah. You're not wrong. Sorry, Kings."

"I wouldn't say it quite like that," Kingsley said, laying his fork and knife down, "but yes, it is in drastic need of reform, I cannot deny that. I am doing what I can to get to the root of it, for many reasons."

Harry did not seem satisfied with this answer, rolling his eyes. Aurora wasn't either, but she could tell it was not worth picking the fight with Kingsley. There was nothing they could say to him that he did not already think; the frustration in his voice was palpable. Instead, she picked away at her dinner and let Harry stew in his anger, and wondered when on earth they were going to get out of all this mess.

The next day, while everybody else chatted and laughed and pretended there was no war, that the boy they were celebrating was not destined to kill or be killed, she sat in the corner of the lounge trying to keep a scowl off her face, reading through Jane Austen's Persuasion. It was a comforting, warm sort of book, its protagonist gentle and quiet but strong. A woman who loved, and cared, and gave without reward, different from Austen's usual protagonist and all the more admirable for it, she felt.

With Anne Elliot, Aurora managed to tune out the greater noises of the party, until Gisela Reisen appeared on the sofa beside her, and said, "You don't seem to be too happy about your godbrother's birthday."

Aurora glared over the top of the page. "I'm indifferent towards Harry's birthday. The book is more interesting."

"Good grief," Gisela said, leaning over, "really? You're not a fan of parties?"

"I don't mind them. They can be fun." She thought of all the celebrations she had had with her teammates, Graham and Cassius lifting her into the air. That sent another stab in her heart. Graham was still in hospital — doing well, according to Cassius, and his mother, but still not able to see anyone other than family. She still couldn't look Fred and George in the eye. "But the book's really, really good."

To her annoyance, Gisela laughed, and not in a mocking way. "You are like Regulus," she said softly, and Aurora scowled. "Oh, no, don't look like that — it's a good thing! I did nearly marry him."

"I don't care to be like or not like anybody else," she muttered. "Why do you want to speak to me?"

"I hate to see a pretty young lady alone at a party," she said simply. "As a former pretty young lady, I've always found it a tragedy."

"Well, I'm quite happy, so you don't need to worry." She didn't know what to do with all the positivity around her.

"What are you reading?" Gisela asked.

"A book." She winced, hearing her own voice echo in her ears. "It's called Persuasion, by Jane Austen. She's a Muggle — well, was. My roommate gave me the book, she thought I'd enjoy it."

"Does it have a happy ending?"

"I don't know. If I could read it in peace, I'd tell you."

To her surprise, Gisela laughed. "You don't like me, do you, Aurora?"

"I don't know you. So, no." She narrowed her eyes as she caught sight of her dad watching her from across the room, a wary look on his face. "Did my dad tell you to talk to me?"

With a sheepish look, Gisela shrugged. "He's very worried about you, you know."

"He always is."

"He wishes you would speak to him more."

"I do speak to him," she said, nettled. "And what does it matter to you?"

"We've been friends for years, Sirius and I. It does matter."

Aurora let out an astonished laugh. The audacity of this woman. "You weren't much of a friend when he was in Azkaban, though, were you? Or even after he got out and tried to rebuild his life — you were only interested when he sought you out, and you only seem interested in talking about my dead fucking uncle." The last words seemed to hit Gisela like a sharp slap. She startled back, blinking.

"You've an awful manner of speaking for a young lady."

"I don't give a fuck."

Cheeks tinged pink, Gisela whispered, "If I seem to you not to care about your father, or your war, you are wrong. I have spent years regretting that I did not intervene when Regulus went down a darker path, that I did not listen to Sirius' concerns. I am trying to help." Her jaw tightened, her eyes flickered. "I just don't know how yet — but I have a feeling you are the key."

"What key?"

"To Regulus," she whispered. "They never found a body." She knew this already but the words still sent a chill through her. "I've always wondered what really happened. What part of the puzzle I missed, that he didn't reveal to me."

"You think it's something to do with me?" Aurora looked her up and down, wrinkling her nose. The thought pulled at that knot of anxiety in her chest, winding the threads ever tighter. "That's why you came here?"

"Not all of it," Gisela said, but her expression was too nervous for Aurora to fully believe her. "I want to help with your war."

"On which side?" Aurora asked, and Gisela blinked, taken aback.

"Excuse me?" Low and dangerous, her voice wavered over the words.

"My uncle was a Death Eater. He fled out of cowardice, not because he decided he was wrong. How do I know you really support our side?"

Too surprised, Gisela seemed to get stuck on her response. "I suppose you'll have to trust me," she said, "after all, Lady Black — you're hardly the most natural supporter of the Order."

"I have my reasons," she snapped back, "I want to know yours."

"Can't you believe that I simply want to do the right thing? That I missed my chance sixteen years ago, and want to make it right? Your country is not the only threatened by the ideas of blood supremacy, you know. France is, too — all of the Wizarding world is. Change here may prompt change at home, too."

"You think the war is going to change anything for the better?" Sometimes Aurora doubted it. With the way the Ministry handled things, and the fact that history had been allowed to repeat itself in such a way, and hatred fester at the heart of society.

"I think it could. I want to be a part of it. I can tell you do, too."

She took in a deep breath, holding her book tight. "Well, then, you could tell me what it is you and my dad and Kingsley have all been chatting about all the time." Gisela blinked, surprised — as if it wasn't obvious that she and Harry were always exiled upstairs. "It's not really Order work, is it — or not fully licensed by Dumbledore, at least. Otherwise there'd be others — Remus Lupin, for one — or you'd be at Headquarters. And my dad and Kingsley are clearly happy acting outwith Dumbledore's decrees." She raised her eyebrows. "So what is it?"

"If your father hadn't told you," Gisela said smoothly, "then it is not my place to do so instead of him."

"So you are up to something? Don't you think I could help, if you told me." Gisela looked doubtful, but she did not dismiss it outright. "My dad's too protective of me. He doesn't want me knowing anything about our family, especially not Regulus."

"It is not about Regulus," Gisela said, voice too gentle. Aurora wanted her to be annoyed, scraping against her. "And your father is just trying to protect you."

"He wasn't like this with Harry last year," she complained, "I'm not delicate."

"Your father definitely doesn't think that you are."

Aurora huffed. "He acts like it."

"Aurora, I did not come over here to argue with you. I want to get to know you."

"No, you don't," she said sharply. "You want to know what I can do for you, and I can only tell you that if you tell me what you and my father are hiding."

"Aurora!" Dora's voice broke over the tension between them, as she appeared suddenly, stumbling into vision. "Gisela." She gave her a quick, sharp nod. "Why aren't you socialising?"

Aurora glared up at her. She might have just been about to get somewhere. "I am. I'm talking to Gisela."

"With the others your own age. They're all having great fun — Luna Lovegood's brought some sort of game with little painted dragons that spew fire. Seems it's got one of Ron's eyebrows."

"I have no interest in having my eyebrows singed off," Aurora said primly, crossing her legs over with a frown. "Thank you very much." She tilted her head, eyeing Dora up. "Do you know what Gisela and Kingsley are doing with my dad all the time?"

Gisela whipped around to stare at her, eyes wide. "Dinner parties?" Dora said with a shrug. "None of us really know all of what each other are doing. That's the point of having so many in the Order — we can keep secrets better." A scowl flitted over her features for a moment, and she clutched her glass tighter. "I do think Sirius was looking for you, by the way, Gisela."

Gisela narrowed her eyes, and glanced between them. Dora stared her down, and she stood, forcing a smile. "I'll see you later, then, Aurora."

She left, and Dora swooped in to take her seat, groaning. "Some fucking party," she muttered. "Everyone's talking about the war."

"Our impending doom does weigh on some people's minds."

Dora glared at her, but it faded quickly, replaced by a despondency Aurora rarely saw in her, but encountered more and more often recently. "What was Gisela talking to you about? You looked annoyed."

"Oh," Aurora said, "I think I was annoying her more. My dad and Kingsley and Gisela have been together a lot and don't let me and Harry listen to their conversations. It's really annoying."

Dora frowned. "I've no idea what they're on about, then. Far as I know Dumbledore's intent on keeping them all apart." She paused, then added in one fluid breath, "Remus wouldn't happen to be included, would he?"

Aurora looked at her, confused. "No. I haven't seen him in a while. My dad's pissed off at him, so — why? What do you think he's up to?"

"Nothing," Dora said quickly, "it's not like that, I'm not saying he's up to anything. Just, you know. He hasn't been around in a while."

She didn't like the sorry weight behind her words, like she missed him. "Maybe you should reach out to him, then," she said gingerly, "my dad likely won't."

"Oh." Dora stared into her glass, face pulling down. "No, I don't think that'll work." Silence bent the air between them. "He, er — we haven't been on speaking terms since the Ministry."

"Why?" Aurora asked, confusion only growing as to why Dora was so down about it. "What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything," Dora sighed, "neither of us did, that's the problem. He just... Christ, I'm surprised no one's told you yet."

"Told me what?"

"Remus and I — we got together."

"You what?"

"It was on and off, nothing serious — until it was, of course—"

"Dora, ew, he's so old!"

"—and then everything at the Ministry happened, and I guess he got some stupid idea in his head that because he's a werewolf he's unworthy of love, and he — he ended it." Her lip trembled. Aurora stared. This Dora was new; never had she seen her cousin just sad, barely even angry, only forcing herself to try and be to spit the words out. "Anyway, he seems to have decided he doesn't want anyone around him, the idiot, and now he's fuck knows where getting himself killed or worse, because he can't bear the thought of facing me!"

Her voice shook as she spoke, and her hair, just barely maintains a dusty rose colour, turned to a mousy brown, hanging limp around her face as she sighed, the fight physically leaving her body. "I don't know what to do. I don't know that there's anything I can do, really — he's an adult, I can't force him to change his mind." She swallowed tightly, looking away, out the window, her expression pensive.

"Sounds like he's being stupid," Aurora said weakly, and Dora shrugged.

"He is."

"Is that why my dad hasn't been speaking to him, either?"

"Maybe. I dunno. Far as I heard, Molly's been having him round for tea every other week, so he's not ignoring everyone. Just avoiding me."

"I'm sorry."

Dora shrugged again, and met Aurora's eyes. "I'll get over him. Probably. Dunno — it's usually a lot easier. Course, most people I've dated have turned out to be pricks."

"My dad says Remus is a coward."

"He's not," Dora said harshly, glaring across the room. "He has a lot to deal with and he won't ever let anyone share that burden, and he runs from it but he's not a coward, Aurora, so don't say that."

Aurora blinked, taken aback by the sting of her words. "I'm sorry."

Dora huffed, getting to her feet. "You should be. Advice, Aurora — try and enjoy the party, while you can. God knows we all need something to enjoy these days."

She sauntered away, to whisper something in Molly Weasley's ear, and Aurora watched her go, thinking, as anger at Remus simmered beneath her skin. He had hurt Dora, that much was clear, and it seemed to go deeper than just his own insecurities. Her cousin was miserable, all because some man — Remus, of all people, far too old for her anyway and certainly old enough to know better than to be such a twat — had broken her heart. It made her want to find him herself and knock some sense to him.

She frowned, trying to start reading her book again, but getting distracted, mind wandering. It had been strange, what Gisela said, her insistence on mentioning Regulus. And the fact no one ever found a body.

The thought sent a chill through her, one felt right through the gold band of her ring. He was dead, she knew that. Death had as much as confirmed it, his spirit lingered in a way that only dead spirits could, and yet, she knew there was a mystery about it. That he did not quite belong to the manor grounds in the same way as the rest.

But she would not tell Gisela that, certainly not until she could trust her more, and until she had a use of it. If Gisela knew Regulus so well, perhaps she would know more about the protection he put on her, and why, and how, and what it all meant. But part of her doubted there was much more to it that could help her.

The thought of the ritual ahead reared in her mind again, and she glanced up, watching her dad and Andromeda across the room. Whatever she had to do, if it meant hurting them, she wouldn't do it. She just didn't know how to know. Toying with her necklace, she glanced down at the book still half-open in her lap, pages flickering over.

She only had a few months to find out. Already it felt like the noose was tightening around her neck, Fate winding their threads around her. Death had said she was bound to Fate, still, and yet she did not have a clue what her own fate really was, only doubt that it was any good.

She could stop it. She was Lady Black. If anyone could, it was her. She had to believe that.