Chapter Text
Eulalie Hicks summoned a steaming cup of coffee to the table, cracking open a newspaper and settling herself tidily on the chair to catch up on any information she may have missed. Theseus made his way down only moments later, followed by Jacob, as both Bunty and Newt emerged from his case, the lid popping open with a gentle clink and climbing out to join the group. Her youngest brother’s eyes scanned the girl’s appearance in suspicion.
“Aurora, you need to change your clothes,” he chastised, a hint of confusion lacing his voice.
“Yes, thank you,” she sighed sarcastically, withholding an eye roll at his accidental ignorance. Newt wasn’t always the greatest with words, so in that respect he was pretty easy to forgive.
Dumbledore’s hand gently clasped the girl’s arm, her eyes finding his quickly in worry but calming once she’d realised he was motioning to the front door – a request to follow without making a scene. Aurora trailed behind obediently, pulling the front door closed behind them but Albus was already walking towards the snow-covered bridge, black leather shoes leaving lines of prints in the untouched flakes. The sun’s rays had melted some of the icicles hanging from the signposts, droplets of cool water collecting and falling to the ground below – lethal to those that stepped foot on it, but beautiful to those there to observe. Albus came to a stop halfway across the cobbled overpass, his back to the Inn but eyes watching as she caught up. He didn’t want to raise suspicion, but he did require privacy.
“Miss Scamander,” he started once her frame was alongside his own. “Do you not understand the importance of your role in this group?”
At this, her ears perked. Truly, she wasn’t even aware that she had a role, let alone its significance. “With respect, Sir, I have no role,” she advised, watching as he glanced over the barrier for a moment. “I only came for the letter Theseus sent regarding Newt’s accident – as of yet, I have been no help,”
His eyes found hers again, the white snow reflecting the blue of his irises perfectly. “Aurora, I sent that letter to you,” Albus paused, watching as realization began to kick in. “I know Grindelwald approached you last year, and I know you fear he will come back for you,”
“How? I didn’t-“ Panic was rising now. “I haven’t told anyone that!”
“Do you know what this is?” The older man pulled a triangular-shaped locket from his coat sleeve, withheld from a chain, the silver metal catching the sun’s rays and shining brightly. It dangled in front of her eyes, the purple and red gemstones glimmering almost hypnotically.
“That is,” Aurora paused, searching for his face behind the object. “It’s a blood pact,” she whispered quietly, looking around discreetly to ensure they were alone. “Who’s?”
“Mine,” He could see the moment her jaw dropped in astonishment. “And Grindelwald’s.”
As she scoured his face for any break in expression to indicate a lie, finding nothing but vulnerable sincerity, the glinting chain redrew her attention to his hand. The cord was wrapped around multiple times, leading further up his forearm beneath the sleeve but the contrast in skin tone was what caught her eye. She gently took hold of his hand, sliding the material up and away from his wrist to reveal lines of purple scarring circling the flesh, disappearing below the bunched cotton. There weren’t many, just two, but they ran the length of his limb as if wire had been constricting, cutting into the skin causing permanent damage.
Aurora knew this was potentially dangerous territory – the look Dumbledore was offering seemed like a silent plea to maintain her emotions, as well as her questions – he was revealing something which could prove detrimental should others discover, and yet this was an opportunity to ascertain her loyalty. Exposing himself like this, under such dire circumstances, had to be either a cry for help or a desperate attempt to convey a message. She’d hoped it was the latter.
The wrist she was currently grasping slowly moved to transfer her hand to his neck, giving the girl enough time to pull away if necessary, but laying it gently at his throat. Blue never strayed from hazel, a silent conversation of permission and reluctance occurring until she trailed her nimble fingers beneath his turned-up collar to reveal the same scars from before, tracking the circumference of his nape and relaying across his windpipe. Her brows raised in question of whether the blood pact had done this damage, a minimal nod offering an answer, and her fingers traced the lines tenderly as if to establish their realism, or even to bathe in this position of trust she had been placed.
Her hands withdrew. “You’ve attempted to break it before,” she commented.
“I have,” he started, observing as she lowered her chin back to the protection of his scarf. “We all have secrets, Aurora, but that doesn’t make us any less worthy of help nor kindness,”
“Is this the reason you cannot fight him yourself? Travers told us at The Ministry you and Grindelwald were as close as brothers, but,” she was attempting to be delicate, but he knew the direction in which her thoughts were travelling. He was also aware that she’d been holding back. “I get the feeling that information was incorrect.”
“We were closer than brothers,” was all Albus needed to offer.
The final piece of the puzzle fell into place, and suddenly the last few years had made sense. It was never truly the Ministry versus Grindelwald, it was Dumbledore. And Dumbledore needed soldiers to fight this battle for him until he could find a way to break the blood troth. The brunette hadn’t heard of such a cure for this endless promise, but she was aware of the price one would pay should they even think about betraying their betrothed – Dumbledore alone bore the evidence, though thankfully had survived his attempts. Did Grindelwald bear the same marks?
Albus was watching the war rage behind Aurora’s eyes. He knew she would never lose her temper, especially in her current state of injury, but there had been a multitude of emotions passing her face already which unnerved him. The longer she remained silent, jaw clenched and eyes staring into nothing, the more regretful he was becoming in sharing this secret. Newt and Theseus knew, but they were more predictable and had already proven their allegiance to his cause. Aurora was bold, protective and independent – a renegade through and through – she could start a fire with a twig and burn down an entire city if it meant saving the ones she loved, even if she were to get caught in the crossfire.
The girl’s brain was processing everything at one hundred miles an hour, flashing through every memory from each news article read that involved Grindelwald, including the ones regarding Albus and his potential involvement in Gellert’s uprising. Travers had cuffed Albus with Admonitors to watch his every move and his every step, but the day Leta died, Theseus took it upon himself to remove them and offer a formal apology for such treatment on the much-beloved Professor. At no point were Gellert and Albus ever in the same article – heaven forbid the wizarding world learned of their relationship – but it was assumed that Dumbledore took the side of his intended considering he made no effort to join forces against him, at least not to the public eye. Only, he’d been participating in the biggest war yet, and no one even knew.
“What was the promise you both made to create that vow?” her voice was small, guarded.
“That we would never fight each other,” he replied, matching her quiet tone. He realised he couldn’t read her in that moment. “We were to change the world for the better. Muggles would become deferential to wizard-kind – there would be no more war between the two – and this ensured we would, even if one of us had a change of heart,”
“But Gellert hated Muggles, you knew that,” she was trying to make sense of why he had chosen this future for himself. “Did you?”
“I was angry,” Dumbledore crossed his arms cautiously. He hadn’t intended on letting her in this far but she was digging deeper and something about her kindness despite her suspicion willed him to keep sharing. “Muggles were the reason for my father’s incarceration, and the eventual demise of my younger sister.”
Aurora wanted to ask more – her tongue was edging for answers, but she could not bring herself to open old wounds further. “Why did you do it?”
“Because I was in love with him,” Her expression didn’t waver – she’d already reached that conclusion and had accepted it without hesitation, but there was something else lingering behind her eyes. “I was naïve to a cause far greater than anyone could have expected, just as I was arrogant enough to demand perfection from a species that only thrives from faults and failures.”
Her heart ached for Albus – she had heard various stories from his childhood, some assumedly dramatized and untrue, but now understood his protective instincts when a student was struggling, though never had she read into him this far. At no point would he have allowed it, so why now?
“He told me you’d refused his offer,” He was trying to bring her back to him.
Aurora’s eyes settled a little, thoughts calming inside her head at his gentle manner. “He was surprisingly persuasive,” the declaration made her sound weaker now, tired. “Grindelwald told me that I would soon see sense, that I’d earn my right to vote. Said I’d fall to my knees and beg for his forgiveness once I finally realized,”
“And will you, beg?” His voice suddenly held an unusual level of vulnerability.
Aurora met his eyes with an intensity she generally never allowed herself. “Not to him.”
Dumbledore’s lips curled into a reserved smile. Just as he had offered unfavourable information about himself, allowing her to read into him to prove his sincerity, she had just affirmed her loyalty to every part of him.
As the pair made their way back towards the Inn, Aurora was still slightly absent from the moment – thoughts, decisions, memories floating around in her head, all trying to find their place in the situation. Dumbledore had let slip that she did in-fact have a role in this group, but gave no clear indication as to what or how to proceed. Her eyes found his, already watching and waiting – he must have known she’d have questions, but as they neared the building her time had run out so the girl remained silent. Comforting smiles were exchanged as they escaped the cold and re-joined their friends at the bench.
Aurora walked further into the room and watched as Aberforth offered the Qilin calf some warm milk from a carved, wooden bowl, eyeing her dubiously, eyes flittering from hers to the blue scarf hiding the damage. The girl’s brows furrowed in suspicion and narrowed her eyes at him warily – did he know she was injured? Was that how Albus knew? She turned to find the eldest Dumbledore already watching the exchange with curiosity, yet lacking any form of surprise at his brother’s boldness, and deliberating as to how she was about to deal with the situation at hand – confrontation or reservation?
So they both knew, then.
She surrendered.
She huffed an audible sigh of annoyance, just loud enough for the two to hear, and gained on the staircase, ignoring the fleeting glances from her companions as she made her way to the bedroom. Aurora’s purse was sitting perfectly-placed in the middle of the bedspread, the enchantment still holding strong, as she took in her appearance in the mirror, unwinding the scarf to inspect further. What a mess she had truly made of this.
Fifteen minutes had gone by and everyone downstairs had finished their breakfast, had organised a plan and were waiting for Aurora’s return. Though, when no floorboards groaned to indicate any movement, Newt began getting impatient – they had important errands to run, what was she doing?
“Would someone care to remind our dear sister that we are in fact on a time limit?” Theseus quipped sarcastically, though his humorous tone was strained as he glanced at his watch for the third time in five minutes.
“Theseus, Lally, take Mr Kowalski and Miss Broadacre back to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore paused, offering the group some instruction. “Newt and I will collect Aurora and meet you there.”
With a few affirmative nods, Bunty left with the trio leaving just Newt and the professor behind, Jacob’s pleads to walk instead of apparate trailing in the air as they exited the Inn. He instructed the youngest Scamander to ready his case for travel and as the man descended the stairs to his case to return the Qilin and check all was in order, Dumbledore made his way up to Aurora’s room, knocking softly on the door.
“Who is it?”
“It wouldn’t be my brother, I’ll tell you that,” the latch unlocked and Albus entered the room, shutting the door behind him. “The others have returned to the school, we’ll meet them there when you’re-“ he turned to find Aurora perched on the side of her bed with only one arm out of the soiled jumper, face pale and clammy with perspiration. “-ready.”
“I can’t get this sweater off,” the brunette admitted sheepishly, voice quiet as she breathed in deeply as if she was attempting to stay conscious and remain calm. “I didn’t want anyone to see me like this – I don’t enjoy asking for help,”
“Learn to.”
Dumbledore flicked the lock on the door and strode over to where she was sitting, her eyes following him every second, embarrassment tinting her cheeks a pale pink. He gently bunched the stained fabric into his hands and drew them slightly up towards her head, waiting for permission to remove the item completely if she could not do it herself. A few seconds passed as Albus remained still and patient, watching as a war of compliance and disobedience raged on behind her eyes, before she offered a small nod and lowered her head to sink beneath the material. Just as he released her head from the knitted hole she let out a low yelp, right hand grasping his wrist in an attempt to stop him for a moment, and closed her eyes to force the pain to subside. Once the world had stopped spinning quite so much and after a few shaking breaths, she released her grip and he continued slowly, the cotton peeling back down her injured limb until it was discarded on the floor.
The light-coloured vest that lay beneath her sweater was torn and stained dark with blood, the arm strap hanging on by a thread. She watched as Dumbledore took in her condition, his eyes following the black streaks toward the oozing wound below her collarbone. It was deep, and it was open. He rounded to her other side to see if there was anything on her back, and sure enough whatever had caught her had pierced straight through her scapula, though the cotton material was covering most of the damage. Various cuts and grazes littered the rest of her body along with blue bruising across the skin he could currently see.
Albus knelt in front of the girl, catching her eye. “What happened at The Erkstag? I’m assuming this wasn’t one of Newt’s creatures,”
So, Aurora told him everything. The prisoners, the Manticore, Theseus’ escape, the port-key travel to Hogwarts, anything he hadn’t already gathered from her brothers, and he just listened quietly. Once she’d finished and had turned away, he stood tall and gave her some distance – she was in a vulnerable position now as it was, but sharing this information had upset her. Reality was sinking in.
“Aurora,” he started, using her first name to gain attention. “You cannot keep this from them for much longer, I fear you won’t make it to the end of the week if you continue,” he warned.
“What am I supposed to do, Albus? It’s gone too far,” she stood and walked to the mirror to re-examine her injuries. “Whatever was on the stinger has already spread,”
“Do you trust me, Miss Scamander?”
Her eyes caught his blue irises in the reflection, though he didn’t return the glance for he was looking at her wounds from behind. “Whenever people ask me that, I start to question it,” she replied light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension in the room.
“Good.”
Dumbledore left Aurora standing at the mirror and exited the room, the door sounding a soft click in the now-silent bedroom.