A Matter of Black and White

CHAPTER 28—THE DAMNED AND THE DOOMED

The day after Halloween, Hogwarts was buzzing with two things—the much-anticipated Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match on Saturday and speculation about what exactly Aurora had done at the Wiederwachrufen. Aurora was in the midst of explaining the ceremony that afternoon to some curious Ravenclaws in the courtyard when Lilitu swooped down and landed on a bench. The owl stayed just long enough for Aurora to retrieve the message from its leg before taking off to join Fawkes, who was hovering above them like a second red sun in the sky.

Aurora unrolled the scroll and read:

Aurora,

My apologies to your students for stealing you away, but would you please join me in my office immediately?

A.D.

Aurora excused herself from the group, leaving them to speculate on the outcome of Saturday’s match. Meanwhile, she wondered why she was being called to the Headmaster’s Office on such short notice. As soon as Albus opened the door at the top of the spiral staircase, she thought she had an idea.

Severus was standing behind Albus, his arms crossed, his back as rigid as if he were a pillar holding up the ceiling of the Headmaster’s office. Obviously this meeting was not in regards to the new Runes curriculum.

Albus nodded at her, his eyes looking far greyer than usual. “Severus tells me your lessons are complete.”

Aurora glanced back and forth between the Headmaster and Severus as if they had each just suggested that she’d make a good Beater for the staff Quidditch team. “Complete?”

“He believes that he has taught you as much as he can.”

Aurora turned to look at Severus. He was usually the first to tell her that her Mentior Occlumency still needed work. “Well, I think I still have a lot to learn,” she said carefully.

“A lot to accomplish, yes,” said Severus smoothly, “and to learn, perhaps, but there is nothing more that I can teach you.”

Aurora felt as if she had crossed into some alternate reality. She couldn’t believe that Severus would be willing to admit defeat…or that Albus would be willing to let him quit.

“I told you this summer,” said Albus, “that you would still have time to choose whether you wanted to serve the Order. Your time has not run out yet, Aurora.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What the Headmaster means,” Severus said in his briskest tone, “is that you have a choice to make. You can choose to do Mentior Occlumency or you can choose not to. No lesson is going to change that choice.”

“It’s not that simple,” she murmured.

“Of course it is.” In a swoop of black robes, he was in front of her, grabbing her wand hand. “This works,” he said, holding her wrist. “This doesn’t.” The fingers of his other hand clutched her head, forcing her to look up into his black flashing eyes. His entire body, just inches away from hers, radiated with flashes of impatience. “Last night you conjured hundreds of spirits from the dead. A witch who can do that can do almost anything. You just don’t want to.”

Part of Aurora stung at the idea that she was not putting full effort into her work. She sought a response, but none came. As usual, the most painful words from Severus’s mouth were the ones that rang most true.

“No more tea parties, Aurora,” he said lowly.

She understood. This was tough love, Severus style. She sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

“You must sink or swim,” interjected Albus. In the heat of the moment, both she and Severus had forgotten he was there. Severus released her, and they took a few steps apart. “Do your best with the worst. The worst is what Voldemort will want.”

Aurora knew what her worst was. She was fairly certain that Albus did too. He had surely seen it the day he had read her at the Leaky Cauldron. And the Dark Lord, well, of course the Dark Lord knew. The trick was making the worst seem best.

“Alright, I’ll try.” She looked back up at Severus and met the piercing gaze of the Legilimens head on, determined to face her fears. It took him little time to find the place so long denied him. Then, like a recurring nightmare, she was in the place that always haunted her.

* * *

It was night, and she was in the woods, her bare feet following a crescent beam of moonlight that cut through a black canopy of trees. Somewhere above their twisted, barky arms, the moon was full, and every time her nightgown caught on a bush, she feared that a werewolf was snagging her with a long, yellow claw. All the secret fears of childhood told her to dash out of the woods, to return to the safe and familiar patch of smooth green lawn behind her parents’ house, to dive back into bed and warm her cold, wet feet under the covers.

But there was magic in these woods.

Papa and Mamma had put her to bed extra early, and when they thought she was asleep, she had heard them talking about the great Lord who was coming tonight. Once she had heard the back door shutting a little later, she had crept out of her room on tip-toes, snuck past her dozing house-elf nanny, and stolen silently out of the house in time to see two robed figures disappear into the woods where she was not allowed to play. Now she tiptoed through the forest, the wet leaves sticking to the flats of her feet. Just when she was afraid that she had lost Papa and Mamma, she spotted the blazes of a bonfire in a clearing up ahead.

Two people—Papa and Mamma—were kneeling in front of a man holding a crimson book. He was a tall man—taller even than Papa. She couldn’t see his face, but even at a distance, Aurora could recognize the power emanating from him. This was the great Lord, the magnificent wizard for whom every night she made a wish upon a star, a youthfully earnest wish that he would succeed in his quest to make the world good and pure and free of nasty Muggles. Eagerly, she crept closer to listen behind a clump of bushes.

“Thank you for the use of the Kiebitzei wood.” The Dark Lord hissed the name with serpentine expertise.

“It is an honor to be of service,” said Papa.

“You shall serve me even better if Antonin and the others are successful. I will need a guard to secure the prisoners.”

Uncle Antie? Aurora thrilled to think that she might see her godfather too.

Then Aurora heard two Apparition “pops,” and two more Death Eaters appeared, each clutching a Stunned and gagged red-haired man. Though each of the Death Eaters was masked—one tall one short—Aurora could tell that neither was Uncle Antie, for neither was quite round enough.

“Only two?” asked the Dark Lord with dangerous dissatisfaction.

“Moody was there,” said the smaller one, as if this explained it all.

“Five Death Eaters weren’t enough to fight the mighty Moody?”

“There were others too,” the Death Eater added lamely.

“Avery and Rosier were routed,” said the second. “We’re not sure what happened to them. Dolohov…”

Aurora leaned closer to hear this.

“…created a ruse. It probably looked like he exploded these two,” he gestured to the two prisoners, “when we Apparated out with them.”

“The Aurors must have gotten him,” the short Death Eater added tentatively.

At this news, Aurora stumbled forward from behind her bush and found herself nose-to-toe with a pair of shining black boots.

“Schatz!” she heard Mamma gasp.

Out of the corner of her eye, Aurora could see Papa reaching out to her. His feet were frozen to the ground by his inability to approach the Dark Lord unbidden, but his arm nevertheless extended toward her as if he could Summon her to him. Aurora, however, was not interested in looking at Papa. Now that she was exposed, she wanted to see the great Lord for whom she had braved werewolves and a spanking. She looked up and saw…

(The adult Aurora steeled herself against what she knew she would see—the sunken face of living Death. She must not reveal her revulsion. She had to fill herself with the hungry awe that filled the blue eyes of the girl in the memory.)

…She saw the face of magic she had only imagined. “You’re him,” she breathed.

The taut skin on the Dark Lord’s browless brow arched as he took in this miniature anomaly, this small child so filled with wonder that she showed no sign of fear. “Wolfram, Minka, is this yours?” he drawled.

“Y-yes, my Lord,” Papa stammered. “I’m so sorry, my Lord…the house elf…she will be punished.”

“I’ll take her back now,” Mamma interjected carefully, reaching out her hand as if she feared she might get burned.

“Wait.” The Dark Lord halted her with a single raised finger. The heavy black ring he wore flashed a sulfurous reflection of the bonfire. Mamma stopped like a deer blinded by a bright light. He looked down at Aurora and placed one cool, long finger under Aurora’s chin. The crimson book he had been holding in that hand levitated patiently beside him. “What is your name?”

“Aurora,” she proclaimed matter-of-factly. “Papa named me after you.”

“Is that right?” he murmured thoughtfully.

“Y-yes, my Lord,” Papa said cautiously. “After the burning red dawn from when we first met.”

“Walpurgisnacht,” he said, some glimmer of thought sparking in the deep caverns of his eyes. “Tell me, Aurora, you and your father have a game, have you not? A game you play with my enemies?”

Aurora nodded vigorously. It was the first time that she had moved away from his cool but awe-inspiring touch. “The Unforgivable game.”

“Would you like to play that game with me now?”

Her eyes grew wide and she nodded.

The corner of his thin mouth twitched like a serpent’s tail. “Do you know these men?” he gestured to the two red-haired men.

“Are they bad men?” she asked with a mixture of scandal and wonder.

“Very bad. They work for Albus Dumbledore.”

“He’s a very bad man.”

The Dark Lord let out a low, raspy chuckle. “You are a bright young thing, aren’t you? Yes, Dumbledore is my enemy, which makes these men my enemies. But even though they are my enemies, I am going to do something very great for one of them. Do you know why?”

Aurora shook her head, her mouth hanging open in expectation of his answer.

“Because I am a benevolent Lord. I give to those who do not deserve. The problem is that I can only bestow this great honor upon one of them. Who shall I choose, Aurora?”

Aurora took another look at the two red-haired men. The one being guarded by the taller wizard was now awakening from the Stun, his head rolling groggily from side to side. Somehow, this half-consciousness seemed an affront to the presence of as great a wizard as the Dark Lord. “Not him.” She pointed to the half-awake man.

The Dark Lord’s mouth twitched in amusement at her confidence. “Very well.” He aimed his wand toward this man but then paused in thought. “Care to help me?”

Aurora felt his eyes beaconing her with the promise of unprecedented power—something greater than her child self could understand but which she instinctively knew was too valuable to throw away. She placed her fingertips on top of his wand hand, on which he wore an aged golden ring with a large black stone. When he said, “Avada Kedavra,” she felt an electric surge run up her arm and down her spine. It was a feeling cold yet hot, painful but addictive, a grandiose version of picking a scab off a skinned knee.

A green jet of light flew toward the dishonored man and he fell to the ground. The Dark Lord barely blinked. Instead, he instead turned to her. “Thank you, Aurora. I hope I shall see you again in a few years. Minka, Wolfram, I think it’s time you put this child to bed.”

Mamma and Papa agreed with sighs of relief and ushered her away.

“Leave me the other one,” the Dark Lord told the tall man with the remaining prisoner.

Papa scooped Aurora up, and they and Mamma headed back toward the house. From Papa’s shoulder, she could see the two other Death Eaters Apparate away and the Dark Lord open his crimson book. She wished very much that she could have seen what he was going to do next, but then Papa handed her off to Mamma. Papa must have been tired because Mamma moved much faster than he did, even when he was no longer carrying her. In fact, he lingered at the edge of the wood when she and Mamma reached the open yard. Wasn’t that just like Papas to stay out late when everyone else had to go to bed?

* * *

“I’ll be damned,” Snape murmured. “Dolohov is an innocent man.” The Dark Lord had been the one to kill Gideon and Fabian Prewett. No wonder he found Dolohov’s jokes about wrongful imprisonment so amusing.

“How did our pupil do, Severus?” Dumbledore asked.

Snape stared down his nose at the woman in front of him. She looked up at him with wide eyes as if awaiting a sentence. Snape lingered in the moment of silent tension and then declared. “I’d have thought it was the happiest moment in her life.”

Aurora exhaled in a combination of relief and disbelief.

“Very well,” Dumbledore answered. “Step One is complete.”

“Step One?” Aurora asked hesitantly.

“Comparatively speaking, Step Two ought to be much simpler.”

“An Order member must be able to communicate with the rest,” Snape reminded her.

She sighed and paced across the room to a window, placed a hand to her temple, sighed again, and withdrew her wand. “Expecto Patronum.” A thread of silver extended from her wand but refused to take shape.

Snape sent her his sternest no-nonsense look. If someone with such an impeccable conscience could make her partnership in murder look and feel like Christmas-bloody-day, then that same someone could conjure some furry little creature to protect her.

Aurora caught his stare and squared her shoulders. She repeated the spell and the silver thread thickened and extended away from her body. The light swirled on the floor to create something long and small with dark eyes and a pointed nose. It was rather like a rat but with a bushier tale.

“A mongoose,” Aurora cried in bewilderment. “A mongoose!”

Snape took a second look at the unidentifiably rodent-like Patronus. Yes, now that she said it, the creature did look something like a mongoose.

“Not a Runespoor,” she breathed, shaking her head at him. “Not a Runespoor!” She launched herself at him and embraced him. Before Snape had time to register either her obsession with Runespoors or the fact that she was standing on his foot, she flew from him to Dumbledore. “I thought for sure it would be the creature from my family crest.”

Dumbledore patted her on the back. “It’s anything but a snake,” he said thoughtfully. “In fact, it’s the enemy of serpents.”

Snape leaned contemplatively against a pillar. For the second time in twenty-four hours, Aurora had demonstrated more power and reserve than anyone might have thought possible when she was reading those dusty old Runes books. He didn’t know whether to fear her or admire her…or both. He still didn’t want her in his spy games, but he now knew he could not discount her. She was another powerful variable in an already very complex equation.

“I’d rather Severus not introduce you to the Death Eaters,” Albus was saying. “You’d both be implicated if either of you were caught. We must find another inside contact for you, perhaps one of the older members.”

“Not Bellatrix,” Snape interjected. Bellatrix must not get her claws into Aurora. Everything would be lost if she did. Then Snape realized the passion with which he had just spoken, and he looked down to straighten his robes and hide the flushing of his cheeks.

Dumbledore sent him a sideward glance but simply nodded. “No, I think not.”

“Actually,” said Aurora, “I think I have an answer. Did the Aurors ever find Antonin Dolohov’s hideaway in Dover?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “He was apprehended at the fight with the Prewetts. The Ministry has been unable to find him since he escaped Azkaban.”

“I can find him. He’s in Dover; I’m sure of it. He’ll be happy to take me to the Dark Lord. He of all people knows that being a Death Eater is in my blood.”

“Then you are committed to this path?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes grey and searching as if reflecting a coming storm.

She set her jaw. “Yes.”

Dumbledore nodded, but Snape thought the old wizard looked almost disappointed. Under Severus Snape’s artful stare, the Headmaster looked tired, as if he had seen this all before—which, of course, he had. Pawns were not pawns if they did not come en masse. Dumbledore reached his withered hand toward a pen on his desk and then lowered it when he recalled the uselessness of the deadened appendage. In that moment, Snape imagined history hanging like the blackened fingers at old man’s side. Then, however, the Headmaster took a rejuvenating breath and firmly grasped the red phoenix quill with his good hand.

“Some would say,” Dumbledore began, “that a mighty army must be forged by mighty vows, that great promises will only be kept if breaking them comes at great cost. These same people will say that loyalty only comes through blood and through fear of the pain of death.”

Despite Aurora’s best efforts to play the part of the brave soldier, Snape caught her blanch.

“I, however,” Dumbledore continued, “think that ‘do it or die’ lacks the subtlety of the oldest, most powerful magic. I’m sure a Holdahexe such as yourself realizes as much.”

Aurora nodded silently.

“A vow is most powerful when it is entered into and fulfilled by choice. A soul can be bonded to a cause and to people but never to fear.” He handed her the phoenix quill. “I do not ask you to sign in blood or mar your flesh or fear me in any sort of way. I simply ask that you swear your loyalty to me and to the other members of the Order of the Phoenix, to serve us all—perhaps even in death—but most importantly in life. Will you do this?”

“I will,” she answered solemnly.

They were simple words. There was nothing so grandiose as the pyrotechnics of the Unbreakable Vow, yet the air still echoed, almost visibly glimmered, with magic. Snape felt the reverberations of Aurora’s moment-old oath resonating with his much older one. At the same time, it sent a sent a jarring wave of cacophony through his gut as the vow to the Order clashed with one equally Unbreakable.

Aurora signed her oath to the Order on a piece of gold-rimmed parchment. Dumbledore placed his good hand on her shoulder and motioned to Snape with a limp movement of his incapacitated arm. The old spy joined them to welcome the new, joining the ranks of the Damned and the Doomed.

* * *

AN: Yep, you close readers are right. That wasn’t just any old murder that Aurora saw. Voldie was about to make a Horcrux, naughty arch-villain. The jury is still out on whether Severus understands the full significance of this memory, but Albus and Aurora certainly do. No wonder our girl has a guilty conscience.