A/N: Hope you like the chapter. Do review and leave suggestions.

CHAPTER NO.5: THE YULE BALL:

Aurora was sitting peacefully in a shadowed corner of the Hogwarts Library, the flickering candlelight casting a soft glow across the ancient tome she held delicately in her lap. The thick book smelled of age and secrets, its cracked spine whispering of forbidden spells and long-lost enchantments. It was written in archaic Latin, interspersed with cryptic diagrams that pulsed faintly under her touch. The quiet hum of the library calmed her — the only place at Hogwarts that didn't feel like it was constantly watching her.

She had managed to get it from the Restricted Section, thanks to Madam Maxime. After a firm but graceful conversation, the Beauxbatons headmistress had approached Dumbledore and returned the next day with a signed parchment, giving Aurora special permission to study the more dangerous texts. Dumbledore had written only a single line in that smooth, looping handwriting of his:

"She must understand what lies within her before it is too late."

Aurora had read that line over and over.

She turned a page, her fingertips brushing the edge of a spell laced with binding magic when she felt it — that slight shift in the air, the tingle at the back of her neck. Someone was watching her.

She looked up, her gaze meeting a pair of piercing icy blue eyes. Elias Lestrange stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his school robes, his tie slightly loosened like he hadn't bothered adjusting it after class. He wasn't like the others. There was something unreadable about him — not cruel, not kind, just… controlled. And quiet. Too quiet for a Slytherin.

"I didn't expect to find you here," Elias said, voice low so as not to draw Madam Pince's wrath.

Aurora arched an eyebrow, her tone clipped and cool. "Most people don't."

He smirked faintly, not in the arrogant way most boys did — more like he knew a secret no one else did. "You always read tomes with blood magic warnings, or is today special?"

She allowed the corner of her lips to twitch, just slightly. "Today's special."

Elias took a step closer, then another, until he was standing just beside her table. He glanced at the book, then back at her. "You're not like the others, Aurora."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Neither are you."

A pause settled between them. Then, Elias broke it with an abrupt shift in tone.

"There's something I wanted to ask you," he said, sounding for the first time a little unsure. "Before someone else gets the chance."

She blinked at that. "Go on."

He exhaled, then looked her dead in the eye.

"Would you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

There was no dramatic flourish. No rehearsed speech. Just the question, delivered in his usual, unshaken voice. And somehow, it felt realer than any elaborate gesture.

Aurora studied him for a long second. He was still, letting her take her time. In the golden candlelight, his silver ring glinted on one hand — a family heirloom, she guessed — and his eyes looked almost like winter frost.

"Yes," she said finally. "I'll go with you."

A flicker of surprise passed over his face, quickly hidden by a nod.

"I'll see you then," he said, then turned and walked away, the edges of his robe fluttering slightly as he disappeared behind a shelf of forgotten spellbooks.

Aurora watched the spot where he'd stood, one hand still resting on the old tome.


The hush of the Hogwarts Library wrapped around them like a spell, broken only by the occasional rustle of parchment or the creak of a shifting chair. Somewhere near the back, Harry Potter was hunched over a pile of books, his glasses sliding down his nose. He was too absorbed to notice the faint ripple in the air — the kind of shift that didn't make sound but could be felt if you were paying attention.

Aurora was.

She'd moved a few shelves away from her usual spot, scanning the bindings of tightly sealed spellbooks, her fingers grazing one when it happened.

It started with a dull throb behind her eyes — a sudden weight pressing inward, like something trying to push its way to the surface. Her vision swam, not entirely blacking out, but twisting. The throb turned into a pulse, and then a burn. It felt like something ancient had awakened inside her chest.

Her hand shot out and gripped the edge of the bookrack, knuckles turning white. Her other hand clutched at her temple as a cold sweat broke along her brow.

No, she thought. Not now

Her breathing turned shallow. Labored. The magic in her blood surged again — darker this time, colder. It felt like smoke curling through her veins, whispering in a tongue she didn't understand.

Behind her, Hermione Granger was quietly browsing the Transfiguration section, a worn reading list clutched in her hand. She caught the faint sound of the shelf shaking and looked up.

"Ms. Blackwood?" she asked, frowning as she stepped closer. "Are you alright?"

Aurora didn't respond. Her eyes were wide, distant. Still holding onto the bookrack like it was the only thing tethering her to this world. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and her posture was crumpling like something inside her was breaking under pressure.

Hermione's voice turned urgent. "Ms. Blackwood?"

Still no answer.

Then, slowly, Aurora's legs gave way. She slid down to the floor with the same grace as falling ash, hand still braced against the shelf, her other arm wrapped tightly around herself. Her face was pale, her jaw clenched, and her green eyes were glassy — like she was seeing something only she could see.

Hermione knelt down beside her, gently touching her shoulder. "Aurora! Aurora, can you hear me?"

That name — her name — echoed like a bell in Aurora's mind. Not foreign, but grounding. Familiar. Real.

It pulled her back from the edge.

Her breath caught once more, then steadied just enough for her to lift her head. She blinked, eyes locking with Hermione's.

"I…" Aurora murmured, her voice low and shaky. "I don't know what that was."

Hermione gave her a worried look but didn't press. "Are you fine?"

From across the room, Harry looked up, brows furrowed. He'd seen Hermione kneel, seen Aurora curled up like she was in pain — and something about it made his scar tingle faintly. Not painfully. Just… aware.

Hermione had her arm around Aurora's shoulders, trying to help her sit up properly, but Aurora's limbs felt heavy — like her bones were made of lead and her muscles didn't quite remember how to respond. Her breathing was still unsteady.

"I can't…" she murmured, her voice barely audible. "Just… give me a second."

Hermione looked around, helpless for a moment — until she saw Harry hurrying toward them.

"Hey! What happened?" he asked, crouching down beside Aurora without hesitation. His green eyes — startlingly like hers — searched her face, his voice tight with concern. "Aurora, are you alright?"

She didn't answer right away. Her jaw was clenched, hands trembling slightly as she tried to force herself upright again. Her pride screamed at her to push everyone away. But her body — and the shadow curled inside her magic — refused.

Harry gently took her arm. "Here — let me help."

With a surprising steadiness, he slipped his hand under her back and helped ease her into a kneeling position, then to sit more comfortably against the bookshelf. His touch was careful, not intrusive. There was something genuine about his concern that made her stomach twist. Not pity. Just… worry. Real worry.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, though her voice cracked a little. "It's nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing," Harry replied, glancing briefly at Hermione. "Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

"No!" Aurora said, more forcefully than intended. Both Harry and Hermione blinked at her sudden tone. She softened it a second later, shaking her head. "No, please. I'll be fine. I just… I need some air. I'll go back to the carriage."

She started to rise again, and this time Harry and Hermione both offered their support. With their help, she made it to her feet, though her legs still wobbled beneath her like she was walking through fog.

"You're sure you don't want someone to come with you?" Hermione asked gently.

Aurora nodded, though she looked far from convincing.

"I'll walk her back," Harry said firmly before she could argue. "Just to make sure she gets there."

Aurora hesitated, pride flaring in her chest, but it fizzled quickly. The thought of collapsing again in the hallway was worse.

"…Alright."

The walk back to the Beauxbatons carriage was slow and quiet. Harry kept pace beside her, hands shoved awkwardly in his robes, glancing at her every few steps like he expected her to collapse again. She didn't speak, didn't explain — and he didn't push.

When they reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the glowing, ornate carriage, she finally turned to him.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For helping."

Harry gave a small, lopsided smile. "Anytime."

She nodded once and turned, ascending the steps slowly. He stayed until the door shut behind her, the golden light inside the carriage washing her figure from view.

He stood there a moment longer, brows furrowed.

Something about her magic — about what had happened — didn't sit right.


Back inside the carriage, Aurora sat by the window, the thick velvet curtains drawn slightly open, letting in slivers of moonlight that danced along the golden trim. The warmth and quiet wrapped around her like a lullaby. Her hands no longer trembled. The strange surge of dark magic had passed — almost as quickly as it had come — leaving her tired, but whole.

She exhaled slowly, resting her head against the cool glass.

What was that…?

It had felt like something trying to wake up — like a beast stretching in its cage after a long sleep. But there had been no trigger. No spell. No threat. Just… an echo. A shadow curling through her thoughts.

And yet, now… she felt fine. Perfectly fine. Like it had never happened at all.

Aurora sighed, dragging her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The library, Hermione's voice, Harry's hand helping her — it all felt like a blur now. Distant. Her lids fluttered shut as exhaustion finally pulled her under.

Sunlight spilled across a garden that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction — a place too perfect to be real. Blossoms bloomed in impossible colors, and the grass shimmered like stardust beneath her bare feet.

She was small. Laughing. Her hair bounced behind her as she ran, feet light and fast, skirts fluttering like wings.

"Here comes my princess!" a deep, warm voice called behind her.

Aurora turned and giggled as a man chased after her — tall, with untidy hair and a grin so wide it looked like the sun lived in it. She didn't know his name… but his presence felt like home.

Another man was close behind, laughing, slightly out of breath. "She's mine this time, James — move over!"

"I got her first, Sirius!" the first voice called back, mock-competitive.

"No fair!" a third voice piped in, softer, with laughter laced in every word. "You two never let me catch her!"

"Uncle Moony, help me!" she squealed through her laughter, running faster.

The tall, graceful woman standing beneath the cherry blossoms smiled — brilliant green eyes glowing with affection. "Don't fall, darling!"

"I won't, Mummy!" the little girl laughed.

Mummy.

The word echoed in Aurora's dream like a stone dropped into still water.

She turned, hoping to see her more clearly — the woman with the eyes so much like her own — but the dream shifted. The sunlight dimmed, and the scene blurred at the edges, like fog creeping in.

The laughter faded.

The garden began to wilt.

The warmth turned cold.

Aurora frowned in her sleep, eyes flickering beneath her lids. She reached out — trying to hold onto them, the faces, the laughter, the feeling of being loved without fear — but they were already slipping away.


She awoke with a quiet gasp, still curled in the same spot by the window, her face warm from dried tears she hadn't noticed shedding. The moon had risen higher in the sky, casting a pale light over the empty carriage.

She pressed a hand to her chest, her heart thudding quietly beneath it.

Her Parents, her childhood.

Why did she know them?

And why… did it hurt?


The Yule Ball had arrived, and Hogwarts had never looked more alive.

In her room, Aurora stood still for a moment, bathed in quiet candlelight. Her midnight-blue gown shimmered with threads of starlight, the subtle glow of rune embroidery pulsing softly with her every breath. It was as if the night had woven itself around her. A silver circlet, adorned with the Blackwood crest, sat elegantly atop her head — regal, mysterious, and undeniably beautiful. She looked ethereal, like a dream painted in moonlight.

She stepped out of the carriage to find a blur of silks and shimmering gowns swirling around her — witches and wizards adorned in their finest. Then, her eyes found Elias.

He stood waiting, draped in shadowy robes threaded with silver, sharp and refined. His icy blue eyes fixed on her for a heartbeat too long — not in shock, not even in awe, but… recognition. As though this was exactly how he had imagined she'd look.

"You clean up well," Aurora said first, voice cool and composed, the edge of a smile curving her lips.

Elias gave a faint smirk. "You look like something out of a prophecy."

She blinked, surprised, then laughed softly. "That's either a compliment or a threat."

"Can't it be both?" he replied, stepping closer and offering his hand. "Shall we?"

Aurora hesitated only a moment before placing her gloved hand into his.

The castle had transformed.

Icicles glittered along the banisters, bewitched snowflakes drifted from the enchanted ceiling, and the Great Hall was a winter dream—draped in ice-blue silks and silver light. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, while frost shimmered beneath every step.

Cedric was already there, his arm around his date — Cho Chang, the same girl who had bested Harry in the Quidditch trials.

"Cedric," Aurora greeted with a faint smile.

"Aurora," he replied warmly, before nodding at her date. "Elias."

They shook hands.

"And this is Cho – Cho Chang," he added, turning toward the girl beside him.

"Aurora Blackwood. Nice to meet you," Aurora said as she extended her hand.

"I know," Cho replied with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you too."

Soon, Viktor Krum joined them — with none other than Hermione Granger on his arm. At first, Aurora barely recognized her. Hermione looked radiant in her periwinkle gown, her hair sleeked into elegant waves.

"You look beautiful, Hermione," Aurora said sincerely.

Hermione blushed, surprised by the compliment. "Thank you."

Before they could chat more, Professor McGonagall approached, calling the champions and their partners to align for their grand entrance.

Harry arrived just in time with the red-haired Weasley girl he was always seen with. The doors to the Great Hall opened.

Aurora and Elias stepped forward first, their stride in perfect harmony, movements smooth and commanding. Whispers followed in their wake, a hush falling over the room. Viktor and Hermione followed, then the others.

At the table, Elias pulled out her chair wordlessly, and Aurora sat with the same grace she carried on the floor. Viktor offered Hermione a seat beside him. Cedric and Cho settled in across from them, followed by Harry and Ginny.

Laughter began to rise from their corner of the room.

"Did you see Filch trying to dance with Mrs. Norris?" Ginny giggled.

"I wish I hadn't," Harry grimaced. "That image is burned into my brain."

Hermione rolled her eyes fondly. "It wasn't that bad."

"It was," Elias murmured, not looking up from his goblet.

Everyone went silent, surprised by his sudden comment—then burst into laughter.

The table slowly came alive with chatter. Conversation jumped from classes to Quidditch to the ridiculous antics of Hogwarts life.

At one point, Hermione was trying to get Viktor to pronounce her name right.

"It's Her-My-Own-nee! Simple?" Aurora snapped, irritated by the back-and-forth.

Everyone went quiet. Then Viktor and Hermione burst into laughter. Aurora rolled her eyes but smirked when Viktor finally got it right.

Then came the first dance.

The champions and their dates stepped onto the floor. Elias bowed deeply, a picture of precision. Aurora curtsied in return, her face unreadable.

And then… they danced.

Their movements were not just elegant—they were effortless. Like some ancient rhythm only they could hear. Her gown fanned out like shadowed starlight, his robes trailing like silver smoke. He spun her, and the room seemed to blur — laughter, music, and flickering lights melting into silence.

"You're good at this," she murmured.

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I figured you'd be more… awkward. Or brooding."

He smirked. "Oh, I'm still brooding. Just rhythmically."

Aurora laughed, eyes glinting like emerald fire.

"You're not like the others," Elias said quietly.

"No," Aurora replied. "Neither are you."

There was something in the way their hands moved, how their eyes met — it wasn't just a dance. It was a conversation neither of them could have spoken aloud.

Later, they stepped outside.

The cold air bit at their skin until Elias cast a warming charm around them. They walked quietly at first, feet crunching lightly over snow-dusted ground.

"It's quieter out here," Aurora said softly, breath fogging the glass as they paused near the castle.

Elias leaned back against a wall, arms crossed. "You've changed since then."

She didn't meet his eyes. "Did I?"

"You were cold. Silent. Like you didn't want anyone to come close. But now… you smile."

Aurora gave a sad smile. "Maybe I found good people. Viktor, Cedric, Fleur. Or maybe… I let them find me."

"Why?"

"I came to Britain to find myself," she said quietly. "In doing so, I let others find me too."

"You're a mystery, Blackwood."

She gave a bitter laugh. "And you're not?"

He looked away. "Life makes a person."

"Exactly. Elias Lestrange — the most open person in the world?" she teased.

He gave a hollow chuckle. "Life makes one."

"Then who are you really?"

"No one. Consider me no one."

"Even nobodies come from somewhere."

He took a breath. "My parents were Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange. Loyal followers of the Dark Lord. I was raised by my aunt — Narcissa Malfoy."

His voice was empty.

"She didn't love you."

"They hated me," he said, laughing bitterly. "Lucius always said I was a disgrace. I became what they made me. I hated seeing others happy. At Hogwarts, I stayed distant. But then I saw you. You were like me. A mystery. And I wanted to solve it."

Aurora looked down. "My parents wanted an heir, not a child. They punished every small mistake. Tried to mold me into something perfect. I became cold. Tried to be normal — but everyone feared me. So I embraced the distance."

"But Hogwarts changed you."

She nodded slowly. "And I let it."

Elias's voice cracked. "It couldn't change me. But you did. You made me want to be more. That's why I came to you… I'm tired, Aurora."

He sat down, eyes glassy with tears.

Aurora hesitated, then knelt beside him and pulled him into a hug — unfamiliar, awkward, and warm.

"Let me change you," she whispered. "And you… you can change me."

She helped him up and wiped his tears. They walked back together — still quiet, but not empty.

Back inside, the hall sparkled with joy.

Aurora poured him a drink and handed it to him. He nodded silently in thanks.

Fleur arrived, grinning. "How's it going?"

"It's not Beauxbatons," Aurora said, "but I think I prefer it."

"You look gorgeous," Fleur complimented.

"You look more."

She introduced Elias, who gave Fleur a polite bow. A Beauxbatons boy soon swept Fleur away for a dance.

"Dance?" Elias asked, holding out his hand.

Aurora smiled. "Yeah. Why not?"

They danced again — and again. And for the first time, Aurora felt something she hadn't in years.

Joy.

When the night ended, Elias walked her to the carriage.

"So—" she began, but he pulled her into a sudden hug. She stiffened, then slowly wrapped her arms around him.

"Let's find each other," she whispered in his ear.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Let's do it."

He let her go. Aurora gave him a small smile and a soft goodbye before stepping into the carriage — her heart light, for the first time in a long time.