Chapter Text
"I hear you're getting up to mischief when you're meant to be studying," Dora's voice greeted Aurora as she rounded the corner of the Charms corridor on Monday evening. She jumped at first, then grinned as she caught sight of her cousin stood just down from her, grinning.
"You're early," she said.
"Wanted to see my favourite little cousin," Dora told her, slipping off the wall and hurrying down towards her. She glanced around before coming to Aurora's side and saying in a conspiratorial whisper, "I've got your present from the twins."
Aurora could only just manage a small smile as she leaned into Dora's hug. It felt good, to be comforted, even if she could feel the weight of Dora's own weariness as they held each other a moment, and Dora slipped the pair of Extendable Ears into Aurora's open satchel. When she snapped it shut, she grinned.
"Thank you," Aurora said. "How is everyone — my dad said you're doing well, but..."
"We're fine," Dora told her, but her smile did not reach her eyes. "Much as we can be. I'm being kept busy at work — obviously — which Mum doesn't like... Obviously." She frowned, taking in a sigh. "But they're safe."
Dora wasn't, was the underlying inplication there. Yet she did not seem afraid; instead, speaking seemed to fill her with some sort of purpose, as she straightened up and clasped Aurora's hand. "Good," was all Aurora could say, squeezing her hand in return. "And my dad? I know he doesn't let on to me, but..."
"He's all good," Dora said, and Aurora could see in her eyes that she meant it. It relieved her heart only a little. "Kingsley's keeping him active, and he's still recovering well."
"And you?" Aurora asked with a pointed look.
"Me?"
She raised her eyebrows, tucking her arm into Dora's. "You're the one who's on the front lines of it all. You're the one who's gone through... You know." She felt Dora stiffen, her shoulders. "Are you really okay?"
It took a long moment for Dora to reply, sighing as she did so. "No," she said, the truth a relief, "but I'm doing better than I was. Keeping myself busy — Mum says I'm like you in that regard." Aurora supposed she was right, and it still unsettled her that Andromeda might know her so well as to understand her, in the same way that she understood her own daughter. "And hey — I heard about your Quidditch match."
"Oh, don't," Aurora groaned, "it was horrendous! I'm sure the whole house hates me, I had to kick Selwyn off the team and he probably wants to kill me!"
Dora raised her eyebrows, almost confused. "From what I heard, you played pretty damn well."
"Yeah, but Harry won."
Dora shrugged. "Yeah, but he said he reckoned they just got lucky — not that I'm supposed to have told you that."
Aurora almost laughed. He was right, really, but she never would have expected him to admit it. She certainly wouldn't have. "Well, he's not wrong. But we still lost, and I don't know if I can keep Lucy as Seeker or put myself or Harper in, and I need to replace Selwyn, too..." Even in the few practices they had held since the game, she had not been able to figure out a proper orientation. Harper was the best Beater candidate, but then she would have to either use Lucy as Seeker, or either Lucy or Erin as Chaser, and neither option felt right. She had left it up in the air for now, because she knew nothing was going to work out. Part of her felt like she may as well not even try.
"You'll figure it out, I'm sure," Dora said, her belief almost giving Aurora some hope herself. Almost. "I've already put in to cover patrol the day of your match against Ravenclaw in February - though you'll understand I couldn't possibly take sides." Her eyes twinkled with a mischief Aurora had not gotten to see on her face in what felt like a very long time.
At the sound of a noise from the other end of the corridor, they both turned around, startled. Silence hung between them, and then Dora sighed. "I suppose that's my cue to actually do my job." She ruffled Aurora's hair in that way she always had, almost lazy now, her hand faltering. "I'm back in on Friday, I think, if you want to come find me."
Aurora nodded. It was always a relief to know Dora was in the castle, even if they could only ever snatch snippets of conversation. "I will," she promised, and gave her a quick hug. Dora sighed, wrapping her arms around her.
"You be careful," she told her, "things have been too quiet recently, and it's unnerving me."
"I'm fine," Aurora said, leaning away, but Dora shook her head.
"No... Quiet's a bad sign. Trust me."
A final, half-hearted smile, and she flicked Aurora's ponytail before turning and heading back down the corridor towards the sound of the commotion, now dissipated. Aurora watched her go with a sense of emptiness in her chest that she could not place or hope to salvage. Assured that there was nothing really to worry about, from the steady quiet, she finally let herself follow Dora's path, just to be sure. Her cousin was stood, quite calm, and rolled her eyes when she saw her. "Couple of kids running to get back before curfew, knocked a candleholder over. I sent them on their way. And you should get back, too."
Still, as Aurora headed back to the common room, she heeded Dora's words. Quiet was a bad sign. Perhaps she had to be the one to make some noise, then.
-*
"I've been made Prefect," Theo said by way of greeting at Duelling Club on Wednesday night, while Aurora stretched with Hermione and Harry. Aurora turned at the sound of his voice, startled. She could not remember the last time they had spoken.
"Oh, really?" She forced a smile. "That's good. Congratulations."
He did not look pleased. "Apparently Draco's resigned — he said he thought it was a load of shit anyway, but I'm not convinced. He seems a bit pissed off by the whole thing. Especially when Slughorn congratulated me personally."
Yes, she thought, Draco would hate that. "Draco's always been a sore loser," she said flippantly, "and rather easily jealous — even if he did choose to resign."
"You think he didn't?"
"I've no reason to believe so." She cut him a sharp look. "Have you?"
He hesitated a moment, glancing around as he stretched his arms over his head. "No," he said. "But apparently someone vouched for my good character."
Aurora pulled a look of polite intrigue. "Oh, I see. I suppose it's nice to know you have friends somewhere."
He gave her a flat look. "You don't happen to know what that's about?"
Beside her, she heard Harry intake a breath, and felt him shift closer to her.
She just shrugged, and pulled her arms up to stretch back over her head. "He did ask me about your character — moreso a concern about your becoming prefect. All I said is that you're a good person, and I didn't think it fair of him to hold your family against you, when he commented on it. I am allowed to say that, aren't I?"
"I don't need you to try and get me in the door with Slughorn."
"That wasn't what happened," she said, annoyed. "I just told the truth, Theodore. There's no ulterior motive here."
He watched her carefully; the heat of his gaze warmed her cheeks, and she could not bring herself to look at him properly. "Well," he said at last, "thank you, then. He hinted I might end up in his Slug Club."
"It's fine," she said, waving him away. "And don't thank me for that one; Harry'll tell you just how awful it is."
Theo's gaze cut to Harry, who was almost glaring at him. To his credit, he did not seem bothered, only shrugged. "Suppose we'll see. Granger — I'm to have a patrol shift with you next week, I think. That alright?"
Hermione blinked, as though surprised to be addressed, then nodded. "Sure," she said brightly. "See you then, Nott."
They nodded stiffly at one another and then with one last look at Aurora, Theo turned and headed back to his own bag, in a little gaggle with Pansy and Blaise and Lydia Rowle.
"What was that about?" Harry demanded as soon as he was out of earshot.
"I don't know! Slughorn, apparently!"
"Is that what you and Slughorn talked about after class the other day?"
"Yes, but I don't know why he wanted my opinion." Aurora sighed. "It's meaningless, Harry, so stop looking at me like that."
He did not stop, because of course he didn't. Eventually, Aurora had to cease stretching and go to join Tobias and his friends, certain that Harry and Hermione wanted the opportunity to dissect something that did not require any dissecting whatsoever. Everybody had to make such a big deal out of everything nowadays, she ruminated, and it was ridiculous. Couldn't a girl just speak the truth for the sake of her own honest conscience?
She did not get the chance to spite Harry for pissing her off that night, narrowly winning two matches against Tobias and Cho Chang, and losing to Theo, which only annoyed her more. When the time came for the next Monday's Slug Club dinner, she sat it out just in case Theo did get invited last minute, telling Tobias in the afternoon that she was feeling unwell so that he didn't wait for her.
It was by luck that she was in the common room when Draco left, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. She waited a few minutes before excusing herself, and checking the map in the first moment she got alone. Sure enough, they were all three heading towards the seventh floor. She made her way up after them, taking care not to stray too close, but when Draco disappeared, Vincent and Greg did not. They lingered in the corridor for ages, until Aurora gave up and chanced going up there anyway, just to see how they would react.
As she turned the corridor, map still active but hidden in her deepest pocket, she kept a tight grip on her wand and an eye out for the boys. If she got the right angle, then she could take them down and hopefully manage to wrangle their confusion to her advantage so Draco was not too suspicious. But there were only two squabbling girls with pigtails, both around Elise's age. Aurora frowned at them, but in the moment that she faltered, they glanced at her, and that was enough to corrupt her initial plan. She would have to play it off differently now.
So she strode past with confidence, then pretended to falter and turn back as she passed. She snuck a glance at the map, half-hidden by a stone pillar, but did not have the confidence to take it out fully. She could not see their names - but she could not see why anyone would be hanging about up here for no reason, or why Crabbe and Goyle would have completely disappeared.
"You two," she snapped as she doubled back. Both of them went pale, staring at her. "What are you, twelve?" She added an extra look of mature disdain, for good measure. "Lower school curfew is half seven nowadays — get back to your common room."
They both gaped at her. She folded her arms, eyebrows raised. "Will you not speak when a sixth year tells you to do something?" She eyed the ties they had acquired with distaste; Hufflepuff. "I'd deduct points if I could; I'm sure Professor Sprout would love if I can find out your names?"
"Professor Sprout?" squawked the girl on the left, with bright, round blue eyes. "What's she—"
The other stamped on her foot, but reached for her wand. Aurora scoffed. Even the real Crabbe and Goyle couldn't do much damage to her in a fight. She spun her wand lazily between her fingers. "I wouldn't recommend trying to duel me, dear. Really, you can just piss off now and I won't tell — it isn't worth my time. But threatening an upper year..." She smirked. Any real second year Hufflepuff would at least think to scurry off by now, but the two of them just stood there gawking. They looked too panicked, and were too silent, to be younger students rebelling against curfew and rules. "Come. Don't be stupid. There are far worse people about this castle than me. It's all for your own good."
With that, she erected a silent shield around herself and took each of them by the shoulder, marching them towards the staircase. One shoved against her, earning a look of disgust. She wished she could just knock them out and erase their memory, but her Obliviate skills were not yet precise enough for that, and it would be more suspicious. Draco would know someone was onto him then, whereas at least in this scenario she had some deniability.
"I've never met such disrespectful children in all my life," she ranted as she shepherded them downstairs, "and Hufflepuffs, too — Merlin knows what the Sorting Hat was thinking. Rudeness is a far more Gryffindor quality."
"Not bloody Gryffindors," one of the girls said almost instinctively. That was definitely Vincent's tone of voice, that gruffness that was at odds with the naturally higher voice.
"Oh? And how do I know you haven't just stolen two ties? What are your names again?" They both floundered.
"Eloise Midgeon," one said meekly, and Aurora scoffed.
"Eloise is in my year. Merlin — at least we can rule out you coming from Ravenclaw or Slytherin." She rolled her eyes with disdain. "Professor Sprout should know what to do with you."
"Don't take us to Professor Sprout," one pleaded, panic in their voice.
"And why shouldn't I? Or is it McGonagall who's your real head of house, then?"
"We'll give you a galleon," one said, taking it from their pocket.
Aurora figured it was a decent enough exchange so that she didn't have to take them before her and unravel the whole scheme — that would spook them and Draco too much and she might lose her opportunity to find out what they were up to. She let out a long-suffering sigh, but plucked the galleon from their hands as they reached the kitchens, which if memory served, was just round the corner from the Hufflepuff common room. She shoved them both roughly into the open corridor and pocketed the coin.
"Mind you get to your beds," she snapped. "And if I have either of you give me such lip again, Professor Sprout'll be the least of your worries."
With that, she turned on her heel and marched in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons. She could hear them grumbling to each other, deliberating. Hopefully, they would argue about what to do for just long enough that she could run upstairs and try and get a glimpse of Draco. She kept the map out this time, the corridor deserted and Crabbe and Goyle in the kitchens. They would not stay for long, if only because Draco would surely go through them if he knew they deserted him.
Aurora took a deep breath, trying to evaluate her options. She could run through what Draco might have asked the room for — somewhere to plot a murder, to provide a passage out of the school — and hope that she landed on the right one. It was a foolish plan, based on luck, but she did not have any better options. So she tried, repeating those useless thoughts over in her head and checking the map each time. After a few minutes, she noticed Crabbe and Goyle's dots moving on the map, towards the staircase to that corridor, and she had to hurry into a secret alcove, hidden by the shadows, watching the map and the corridor.
It was not long after they had taken up their posts, muttering about her, that Draco emerged. Aurora watched the door with bated breath — even if she could sneak in when he left, she might get an idea of what it was he was doing — but the three of them lingered so long that it shrank back into the wall. Draco was looking about the corridor with a suspicious look; presumably, the boys had told him she had come by. He would be on edge, and she had not proven anything except that he was there.
She strained to listen out for their conversation as they passed, but all she heard was Draco biting out, "It'll be done when it's done — it's none of your business."
The girl that had the pigtails, now slowly transformed back into Crabbe, said, "Thought you said your mum—"
"This isn't about my mum!" Draco snapped back. His voice had taken on that shrill, wavering tone that it only did when he was upset, and about to lash out. Aurora held her breath to hear and hope they did not notice her. "I have my mission and I'll get it done and that's all you need to know. Just because my aunt..." His voice faded then, right as Aurora needed to hear more.
She leaned back against the wall, heart pounding. Only a long while later, when the three of them were in the dungeons and it was approaching curfew, did she trust herself to move.
So Narcissa did know about all this, presumably — and Bellatrix. She was more worried about the latter than the former, Narcissa still being held by the Ministry. Bellatrix was, somehow, still on the loose. With a strange lurch, she realised she didn't know where Draco would have to call home now. All his family were either dead or imprisoned, and like it or not, Aurora knew how that felt, and it made something like guilt stir nausea in her throat. No, she reminded herself, it was not the same situation at all. Draco was awful and so were his family and they did not love her, and she had to stop him, because... Well, because she had to. She had to be the better one, save Dumbledore, save herself if it came to it. She did not doubt that if Voldemort wanted Dumbledore dead, he saw that as a step to taking over control, and if he had control, she knew she would not keep her own safety for long.
It was almost curfew when she got to the library, figuring she should get a couple of books out to use as a cover when she returned to the common room — a valid reason for her to have been wandering about the school. She popped in, checked out two books on Ancient Runes, which Madam Pince seemed to resent, seeing as there was only ten minutes until the library closed and students had to get back to their houses, and caught sight of Gwen on the way out.
She jogged over to meet her in the doorway, not daring to shout in the library and risk Pince's wrath. "Gwen," she hissed once she was close enough.
Gwen paused and turned, eyes wide. "Oh. Aurora. Hi."
The space between them felt flat. Despite living in the same room, they kept missing each other recently, or having very little time to chat. Both had so much going on, and she knew Gwen had more to deal with than she was willing to let on. Leah had finally gotten out of her that she and Robin's breakup had not been so amicable, but she had panicked and felt like she was stuck in it, and he resented that, and it fell apart. A part of Aurora had been hurt that it was Leah whom Gwen had told, instead of her, but she supposed there was a lot that she had not been telling Gwen, too.
"Good study session?" Aurora asked bracingly, stilling her hand on the strap of her satchel.
"Not bad," Gwen said, voice tense. Silence fell for a moment again, and that close gap between them seemed to widen with every second that they did not speak. "I was working on that Charms essay for Flitwick."
"Oh, Merlin, that one was awful!"
"I'm still not done with it — I don't care how straightforward he thinks the textbook is, every other source disagrees with it and I can't put anything together."
"I know — I read the Fennbell chapter in Practical Wizardry, and that helped piece it together a bit — I think it's still in the dorm, if you want to borrow it."
"Oh, God, thanks," Gwen said with a sigh of relief. "You're a lifesaver."
"I know," Aurora said with a smile that would not stick. They fell into uneasy quiet again as they went down the stairs towards the dungeon, and Aurora could not for the life of her think of a thing to say. She wracked her brain to try and remember what Gwen had been up to recently, and came up blank. Guilt reared its head again; when had she got to this stage? Everything she wished she could discuss, she couldn't, and everything else in the world felt banal.
"How's your Herbology class going?" she tried.
Gwen frowned, and said slowly, "Fine. Why?"
Aurora shrugged. "Just wondering. Seeing as I haven't been there."
"Well, there has been a greatly increased plant survival rate," Gwen told her, a smile coming back into her voice. "I think Professor Sprout's relieved."
"That makes two of us." Gwen gave a small laugh, and Aurora said, "Did you speak to her about that Ministry internship?" It had been a few days since she had heard Gwen mention it in passing to Leah — a summer role with the Office for Protection of the Magical Environment.
"Yeah." Gwen scowled. "She said she'd give me a reference, but it isn't a good idea to try and get too involved with the Ministry right now — being muggleborn. It'd put me at more risk."
Aurora hated it, but she thought Sprout may be right. "It might expose you—"
"I don't care!" Gwen snapped. "I want to do it so why shouldn't I?"
"I'm not saying you shouldn't," Aurora said. "But... the Ministry isn't the safest place nowadays. You-Know-Who almost definitely has spies there..."
Gwen let out a scoff of disgust, but her lips still trembled. "And they'll go after an intern?"
Aurora bit her lip, unable to look her in the eye. "They might."
"It's ridiculous. It isn't fair!"
"I know—"
"I know you know! Everyone knows, but nothing is happening to stop it!"
"That isn't true."
"Yeah? You certainly won't say anything."
"Gwen — you know I can't tell you."
"I just want to be able to have a normal life. It's not asking for much. But if I have to fight for it..." She shook her head, then stared at the ground, scuffing her boots along the stones. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault, I just... I don't get why it has to be this way."
"It doesn't," Aurora told her. "We can change that. We will — if we win the war."
"If." Gwen scoffed. "It's all such bullshit. You know my mum wants me to come home? I made the mistake of telling her about it and she's insistent on pulling me out — but she can't, because I need to complete my education and muggleborns can't be homeschooled. I'm... Whoever cursed Katie Bell, they haven't been caught. Who knows why they targeted her, or who else. I don't know if she's muggleborn, but she's definitely not a pureblood."
She debated momentarily telling Gwen her suspicions of Draco and his mission, if that might put her mind at ease. But it would open up even more questions, and new fears. "It might have been a one-off."
"Maybe." Gwen chewed her lip. "But I don't think it is. That would be too lucky."
She tapped her fingertips against the strap of her satchel, her nervous tell. "You'd tell me if you knew something about it, right?"
Aurora blinked. "Of course," she told her. "Especially if it'd help keep you safe."
"Right." Gwen let out a loud sigh as they turned the corner down the stairs to the dungeon. "Yeah, I just - Sally-Anne and I were talking and, it just feels like anything could happen. Her parents want her to come home, too." She frowned as they approached the common room wall. "Camelot," she said in a dull voice, and the two of them squeezed inside.
Aurora's gaze immediately went to find her cousin, who was sat alone in a corner of the room, glaring out the window with an expression that was painfully familiar. Over the other side, by the fireplace, was Pansy, being fussed over by Daphne and Millicent. It looked like she had been crying; she shot a look at Draco and then at Aurora, almost venomous. Aurora suppressed the shudder of guilt.
"We should drop these off in the dorm," Gwen said, following the line of her gaze. "I need an early night."
"Yeah," Aurora agreed, forcing herself to look away, "yeah, me too."
Aurora wished Dumbledore would come back to the castle. Not because of everything with Draco — he had made it quite clear that she was on her on with that one — but because she knew that Phineas Nigellus must have been present at Arcturus' ritual. The portrait left in the Headmaster's Office might be able to give her some insight. There was one at Grimmauld Place, of course, but trying to talk to him via her and her dad's two-way mirrors would be a disaster, and she doubted Phineas would be willing to talk much with her dad there. But Dumbledore was gone for over a month, and had changed the password to his office before his departure, leaving Aurora with no way in.
So, she had asked her dad to arrange for Castella to come to Hogsmeade and to meet her some way out of the village. She might not know anything at all, but if Arcturus had killed his cousins, they were Castella's cousins too. At the very least, she owed it to Castella to tell her what she had learned, in case she did not know.
On the first Saturday of December, she took the Slytherin team out for practice as early as she could, before she intended to go meet Castella, with the aid of Harry's cloak which he had begrudgingly loaned her in exchange for a box of sugar quills from Honeydukes. Everyone was still messy; Vaisey, unable to take any sort of vengeance on Selwyn, seemed not to want to interact with Lucia at all, which she returned by hitting Bludgers at everyone as if she was trying to kill them all; Harper had not forgiven Aurora for making him a Chaser when he insisted he could have won the match for them as Seeker, and Lucy and Erin would not forgive him for that unfounded grudge.
As such, it was a perfect recipe for disaster. From Erin's snide commentary from the bench — "Doesn't anyone know what a Quaffle looks like?" — and Urquhart's constant gripes about anything and everything that went slightly awry, by the time it ended Aurora found herself wishing she hadn't bothered; there was no way a team this disunited would be able to win the Quidditch Cup. They had so much ground to make up on Gryffindor's win, even if they managed to win their final two matches.
After stowing away her equipment, she got the cloak back from her dormitory and made her way to the statue of the one-eyed-witch on the rhird floor. She waited five minutes for all the nearby dots on the map to move away, before slipping inside and heading down. She replayed that Quidditch practice in her mind; she had been observing only, and it just made her feel sick. Her Chasers still worked alright together, a small blessing, but Urquhart was clearly pissed at them, and Selwyn and Lucia had some tension that she was too exhausted to even try and interrogate. At one point she had been sure Lucia was going to hit Selwyn over the head with her bat, and unfortunately, Aurora wasn't even sure it was such a bad idea. Something had to give, and she still couldn't bring herself to trust Selwyn. Something was wrong there, but she had far too much else to deal with. Maybe after Christmas — providing she actually came back after doing whatever insane ritual her ancestors had cooked up, or they didn't decide their blood was impure and kill her.
Callidora was waiting for her by the Hog's Head Inn at the edge of town, doing a truly terrible job of appearing inconspicuous. She was dressed up in old-fashioned robes, lilac ruffles about her neck. Aurora waltzed past, only stopping to draw the agreed upon circle in the light dusting of snow on the dirt path. Callidora set off behind her a moment later, towards the clearing in the woods where Aurora had first come face to face wirh her father. It was still as secluded as ever; she went to perch on an old tree stump, and took the cloak off to place in her bag. Castella came through a moment later, taking in her appearance with a lifted brow.
"You're still in your school robes?"
"I didn't think it worth changing. Did you bring the sugar quills for Harry?" Callidora glared at her, but handed over a box, tutting. Aurora grinned. "He'll be delighted."
"You asked me here," Callidora reminded her, "to relive memories I would really rather not think about."
So she did remember. She knew, and had never said. To spare her, Aurora thought — she had had every opportunity, had even hinted at Arcturus being less than Aurora remembered him to be, but she had spared her the pain of knowing him as a murderer. "I'm sorry," Aurora said, after taking a moment to weigh her words. "I wouldn't have asked you to speak to me if I didn't think I needed it; and I certainly wouldn't have dragged us both into the woods in secret."
At that, Callidora let out a light scoff of a laugh, and came to Aurora's side. With a wave of her wand, she conjured up a plush velvet armchair from nowhere and set it down gently opposite Aurora. Her own stump remained a stump, and Aurora was not quite confident enough in her ability to conjure a more regal armchair to attempt it and risk making a fool of herself. Let Callidora believe she was merely stubborn; it was close enough to the truth.
"You wish to know the truth about Arcturus," Callidora said drily, "but I don't think you really do, based on how you've reacted in the past."
"I was naive when we first met," Aurora said in defiance, tilting her chin.
Callidora looked at her with a sorrowful sort of mockery. "Yes," she agreed, "you were. But I can hardly blame you - fourteen years old, only just beginning to look at the world. I did try to warn you, you know. Arcturus was not who you thought he was."
He was, Aurora wanted to protest. To me, he was - but that still could not erase who he had been, who he might have been. Aurora leaned forward and held her knees to her chest, unable to look Callidora in the eye. "Then tell me. Who was he?"
It took a long moment for Callidora to reply, long enough that Aurora wondered if she even knew what she was going to say. But then, she said, soft and slow, "He was Lord Black. He was raised for it all his life - not unlike you, Aurora. Our grandfather, Lord Phineas - he was good to us. Possibly more to me than to Arcturus, but not to the girls, or their parents, or to Marius. But, he was a staunch purist. Every generation was. I will not claim that I was immune to the influences of my family; as a child, I was the perfect daughter. It was Cedrella who corrupted me, really." Though she knew that she used it ironically, that word - corrupted - made Aurora squirm with unease. "But Arcturus... I do not remember it happening. I was so much younger than him, you see, barely two years old when it happened." The same age as Aurora herself had been when her mother was murdered, she registered dimly. But Callidora did not seem to make the connection. "I do remember afterwards... Lycoris, our other cousin, Arcturus' sister, she spoke about them, though she was not supposed to. Cassandra, Calliope, and Cora. Do you know of them?"
Aurora could only shake her head, silent. There was a sad, aching smile on Callidora's lips.
"Cora was a squib," she said. "Their father, my uncle Phineas, was a supporter of muggleborn rights, and squib rights. For the sake of his daughter, more than his own conscience, I think. They fled to France, when he was disowned, but sent Cassandra and Calliope back to Hogwarts under Grandfather's protection when war broke out there. Cora, and their parents, were left to fend for themselves. But the girls... They could not bring them back into their ideology. They rebelled; Cassandra made tremendous noise and mess trying to tear Grandfather down in public. So, they had Arcturus kill them. All three of them - the blood traitors and the squib." Callidora looked right into Aurora's eyes with that cold, icy gaze, and she felt a piece of her cleave away. "After, whenever I heard the story, it was spoken with pride." She spat the word as though it were filth in her mouth. "That was how he became a true heir of the house, Grandfather said. Murdering his own innocent cousins."
The silence that fell was deliberate on Callidora's part, Aurora knew. The words should have shocked her more; she felt she ought to be furious, that Callidora expected her to rage and scream or try and deny it. But she knew her gaze. She felt how the words reverberated with earnest truth.
"I see." She laced her fingers together over the soft fabric of her cloak. The ring on her hand was ice cold. She ought to have worn gloves. Foolish, not to. "And he did this to... Become heir? In some sort of... rite of passage."
"Precisely." Callidora's voice was clipped. "Pruning the family tree, I believe he referred to it as." Her stomach lurched at the words. "Although..." Her voice was soft, but Aurora could not bring herself to look at her. "It was he who insisted Marius be sent to a muggle orphanage, not killed as his parents wanted." That hardly felt like a victory, and Aurora could feel Callidora's gaze bruising her cheek as she waited for her reaction, her answer. She did not know what she could give her, or what she wanted from her.
"And what am I supposed to make of that?" Aurora asked, trying to sound light, polite, proper.
"I do not know," Callidora admitted — just as light, and polite, and proper. "I do not know what I make of it, either."
Aurora sat with that for a moment, nodding as she stared out at the crisp white clearing, bedecked with snow. "So, the ritual. He had to... Kill, someone?"
"I think so," Callidora said, "though he never gave me specifics. He may have just killed them because he had to — or because our grandfather told him to. I think it was around the time that he conpleted his ritual."
Because he was bound to Lord Phineas' will. That was a convenient thought, certainly, a nice way for her to try and mentally absolve him. "But he did it," she said, words shaking.
"Yes," Callidora told her. "He did it."
The breeze echoed through the trees, leafless branches scouring dark against the sky like imprints of a ghost's fingers. "You — you said you know something about Regulus, and Arcturus, and how he died..." She gave Callidora a hopeful leading look, though she felt sick at the thought of what she might tell her.
"It is not as much as I think you wish to hear," she told her, voice gentle. "All I know is that, Regulus went to Arcturus about trying to escape the Dark Lord's grasp. Arcturus wouldn't tell me specifics — part of me wondered if he was hiding something — but he wanted to help him out, any way that he could. They had a plan, he said, but Regulus being Regulus, he decided he knew best, and went off by himself." Regulus being Regulus; it felt odd to hear it said from any mouth other than her dad's. Especially when she did not even know what it meant, who 'Regulus' even was. "Arcturus said, Regulus wanted to protect you. He knew something was wrong, Bellatrix Lestrange wanted you dead and he said that the family line had to survive."
"I know," Aurora said, trying her best to sound firm. "So he did some... Spell, to protect me."
Callidora nodded. "Yes. Allegedly. Arcturus said something about him speaking with Death."
It felt like her stomach fell entirely. "Regulus did?"
"Only twice, apparently — though that's quite a bit grander than anybody else. He'd apparently had some sort of breakdown and ranted on to Arcturus about blood curses and betraying the bloodline and all sorts, and then a few days later, he vanished, and no one knows where he went. We tried seances, but no one got a hold of him and Death warned us off — said no good would come of it, and Regulus was neither living nor truly dead."
The words rang in Aurora's ears as the ring on her finger pulsed. Castella; she could feel her hands wrap around her neck, the trees come to life. Aurora shivered, tugging her cloak tighter around herself. "That isn't possible."
"Isn't it?" Callidora let out a light, high scoff of laughter. "Anything is possible where our family is concerned, Aurora — that has always been the way. Something to be proud of, no?"
But it felt wrong, made her stomach twist with uncertainty. "Why have you never told me this?"
"I did not think it relevant."
"Of course it's—" Aurora reined herself in with a sigh. No, of course Callidora would not know why it was relevant. She had not told her anything to make her think so; how could she have? How could she dare tell anyone that sort of thing, every useless, hopeless, terrifying thought that rattled around her head, when all she wanted, more and more, was to not have to think about any of it at all. Even her dad did not know all that she was theorising and worrying about, or Dora, or Gwen. No one could know. No one could be fully trusted — and that included Callidora. Still did. "But you don't know how Regulus died?" Callidora shook her head. "This ritual, do you know if he did it?"
Again, she shook her head. "Arcturus never mentioned it — but then, we did not speak often."
"It's the thought of thing he would have told you, though, isn't it?"
"Probably. It would have made sense for Regulus to have undertaken it, as the second-in-line after your father was disowned; but then, your father was still alive. It may not even have held."
"Why not?"
"Well... The magic may not have held, if it recognised another living heir."
"Right." She frowned. "Well, that seems rather foolish. My grandfather Orion would have been heir, and Arcturus' father would have been when he undertook the ritual."
Callidora could merely shrug, which she managed to make an unfairly elegant action. "Perhaps. They did not let me in on the details, being a mere witch and rather far from taking any real part in it all." Aurora grimaced. "I wish I could be of more help, Aurora. What I know, I have told you."
"I'm going to have to kill someone."
Already, she knew she could not. Not like that, for some ritual magic to keep up some centuries-long bullshit.
"Arcturus never said it was necessary for the ritual itself, just that our grandfather made him do it, as a consequence of being who he was now."
That only settled her a little. Eased her own conscience about blood that might one day stain her hands, but not about what had already been. "And the ritual..."
"Blood," Callidora said, "and an incantation, and something about invoking our ancestors." That did not feel very helpful to Aurora. She had guessed as much already, but supposed there was only so far that she could press Callidora on something she did not know about. At least she knew something about Regulus, had an idea of what it all might mean. "It's... Arcturus described it as a binding of sorts. You're weaving yourself into your place in the succession, and the legacy of the family."
"And what our ancestors want? Right? That's... That whole thing, it's about what they want. Wanted." She looked at Callidora, waiting for her to give some crumb of a response. "Do you think that's right?"
"I... Think it makes sense." Callidora sighed, clasping her hands together. "I'll be quite honest, Aurora, I don't think you should go through with it."
She had prepared for that response, but it somehow still struck her with a sense of indignation that Callidora did not understand. "Why not?" The lack of hostility in those words surprised even Aurora herself.
It took a moment for Callidora to respond; a very long, drawn-out moment, in which Aurora felt the cold run through her more than it had before, the breeze reminding her of the distance between the two of them. "Because, none of us truly know what it will do to you. And because anything that Arcturus has told you you must do... Seems to me destined to go wrong."
"I'm sure he knew what he was doing," she said, prickling. "Or does know what he's doing."
"Perhaps. But is that really a good thing?" Callidora rolled her eyes. "Darling, I've told you—"
"Yes, I know, Arcturus was not the person I always thought and wanted him to be, we have established that." Hurt still lodged in her throat. "Many people are not the person I always thought and wanted them to be. But if I do not do this, does that leave me exposed, if Bellatrix should try and take my place. What if it relinquishes some part of the protection Regulus placed over me? I don't know what risks I am taking either way."
And at least this was a charted path, in some sense. She had some direction, some guidance, and though she still felt like she was flailing about trying to figure out what she was doing, at least she was not looking over her shoulder in the same paranoid regret that she knew she would always keep living with if she did not do this, as fate and her ancestry decreed.
"But I won't hurt anybody? I mean, you said yourself, Arcturus had a choice. I have a choice. I won't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it."
Callidora met her eyes with that clear grey gaze, the token of all their family. "And who are you," she asked, "to decide who does and does not deserve it?"
Aurora did not have an answer for that.
Callidora let out a little huff. "I do hope that you will make the right choices, Aurora, beginning with not assuming you have the choice over other people's fates. Many have made that mistake before, and many have found themselves worse off for it."