The Other Black - Book 7

Chapter 18 - Footholds

She was surprised to find herself standing... surprised to find herself in a frozen forest... surprised to see two people standing there beside her.

Hadn't she just been on her hands and feet? Hadn't she just been in Bekker Street? Hadn't she just been alone?

There were two people standing there. She looked at them. One was red-headed and had a long nose. He looked wet. Really wet. It was cold. Why was he wet? Why was he standing there, staring at her with such concern? Why did his blue eyes look so sad? The other was a bespeckled boy with emerald green eyes. His hair too was sopping wet, but just as the red-head, he didn't seem to care. His only concern seemed to be her.

She looked down, expecting to find a body, but there only lay an opened locket, sizzling, atop a flat rock. Glass on either side of the thing had been pierced and shattered, and a gleaming silver sword -- the one she'd slashed the werewolf with -- was still in her hand. She dropped it.

"Aura?" It was the black-haired boy. He moved so he was directly in her line of sight, gently turning her head to face him. She was surprised when she didn't jerk away from his touch.

"Are you there?" The redhead boy waved his hand in front of her eyes. She followed it, confused.

"Aura, are you okay?" It was the black-haired boy again. "Aura?"

Three times. Three times she was called Aura. And suddenly she remembered. It was her name. Her nickname. Aurora was her name. Aurora Malfoy. She looked at the black-haired boy again, with his round glasses and green eyes full of worry and concern, and she knew his name this time. Harry. Harry Potter. Her best friend. The redhead was Ron Weasley, another friend.

Memories came back to her in bits and pieces, slow enough for her to process but fast enough to give her a bit of a headache.

"Aura!" Harry called as she winced, putting a hand up to her head.

"I'm..." She didn't finish. Clearly she wasn't 'fine'. "Go on back. I'll be alright. There's scorch marks on the trees. It'll lead back to the tent."

"Aura-" Harry started again, but Ron pulled him away.

"Give her time, mate."

Aurora dropped to her knees, unaware if they were really gone or not. Part of her didn't care. She barely felt the cold. She wondered if this vague awareness of the world around her was the definition of going insane. She had forgotten everything she knew for several minutes. After the locket had its go at her mind. It was a horrible feeling realizing that. One hand went to her neck. The scars were healed as best as they would be.

She felt exhausted. Extremely exhausted. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to lay down, even on the hard frozen ground, and just... close her eyes. Sleep. But she forced herself back onto her feet. She picked up the small stick on the ground that was her wand. She put much of her weight on her other hand, which she set on a rock, as she lifted herself up. Then she went from tree to tree, barely able to stand, following the burned line on the trees until she made her way back to the tent.

"I will not calm down!" It was Hermione's voice. She sounded... demented. She sounded out of control. "Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!"

"Hermione, will you please --"

"Don't you tell me what do, Harry Potter!" Hermione screeched. "Don't you dare! Give it back now! And YOU!"

Aurora had reached the entrance. Hermione was pointing at Ron in dire accusation: It was like a malediction, and Aurora could not blame Ron for retreating several steps.

"I came running after you! I called you! I begged you to come back"

"I know," Ron said, "Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm really --"