The Prettiest Star
One day, though it might as well be someday
You and I will rise up all the way
All because of what you are
The prettiest star
24th May 1975
The consequences of James and Sirius’s awful plot in March continued to linger as the summer brewed and bloomed.
Though few could find Ara Black in the halls of Hogwarts, her name lingered in whispered echoes.
The rumours followed her shadow. Cruel nicknames and occasional offers from boys to escort her to a broom closet since she was ‘easy’. The sneers of girls in their year as she entered lessons; snickers and taunts as she tried to focus on the lessons in peace.
It was no wonder that the eldest of the Black siblings had turned almost feral in her extracurricular activities as the academic year wore on.
And it was after one such activity - a rather loud fight with Barty that had left them both in the Hospital wings (him with a broken arm, her with a dislocated shoulder) - that a note from the Headmaster reached the young witch. A scribbled invitation for tea, set during the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game that Saturday.
She wasn’t blind to the underlying cause of that.
He’d wanted to get her alone. Without her twin in her mind, or a friend waiting outside the door.
Naturally, she’d followed along with amusement. Telling her friends that her cramps were too bad that morning, that she’d rather stay in bed and celebrate her brother later. So sure he’d win.
It was how she’d found herself in that office of odd things - sat opposite the old warlock with a suspicious eye.
“Would you care for a cup of tea, Miss Black?” He offered, waving a hand to signal the teapot to pour into his cup.
“No… no, thank you.” Ara shook her head; hands rested in her lap - pulling at her fingers. “Sir, why am I here this time?”
“I had hoped you would come to me.” He peered over those half-moon spectacles; icy blue flashing in a way that gave her a headache. At his almost imperceptible frown, she raised a brow.
“Really? Why?” She asked bluntly.
“Miss Black, I had hoped that after our last meeting, you might be more inclined to discuss your dreams.” The wizard sipped at his tea, as though this situation was so commonplace and dull.
“I thought about it.” She shrugged, lips pursed into a bitter smile. “But I remembered something rather important.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I remembered that I owe you nothing. After all, I’ve received nothing in return.” She pointed out.
“What would you care to know?”
“I’d care that you don’t let Flint take me out of Hogwarts before I graduate.” Ara laughed humourlessly. “Or perhaps for why you care so very much about my dreams.”
“At our last meeting, we seemed to have reached understanding.” The old warlock was clearly trying to be comforting; though his cold eyes tainted the gesture.
“And in the year following, I’ve realised that I fell for your act.” Dumbledore blinked at that, clearly surprised. “As Headmaster, I find you lacking. After all, as a student of yours in need of help, I’ve seen nothing. Nothing except probing questions for your own personal gain. What do you think you’ll gain from my memories? What could I possibly mean to you?”
There was a beat, a crackle to the air as she waited.
“I have suspected for a while, that perhaps your dreams are indeed memories. I believe you are correct, Miss Black, that you are seeing the future.” He spoke thoughtfully; idly, as though they had all the time in the world. “Tell me, do you know of the Deathly Hallows.”
“Only in children’s books.” Ara admitted. “Bella used to read me The Beetle and the Bard.”
“An excellent book.” Dumbledore nodded, blue eyes glinting. “I suspect we will have cause to discuss them, in time. For now, I believe there is something you’ve been meaning to tell me.”
“Did one of the prefects mention the nightmare?” She asked, his nod her confirmation. “I figured you had some of them watching me.”
“Forgive me for it, Miss Black, but I found it necessary, considering your consistent silence.”
“Have you heard of Horcruxes, sir?” Ara looked up at the Headmaster, brow furrowing at the shock on his face. Not expecting her to be so very forthcoming. To admit to something as major as this. “I think I destroyed one in my nightmare.”
“Do you suspect whose it might have been?”
“I met him. Over summer.” She begrudged. “He looked… he didn’t look right.”
“Who?”
“The Dark Lord.” She spoke, gravely. Her eyes flicked up to Dumbledore’s - a flash of panic in the steely blue. “Mr Riddle, I should say. I dreamt of that once, of his diary. My family want us to follow him, but none of us would. I swear it. My brothers are nobody’s pawns.”
“I would never dream of such a thing.”
“I don’t want to be like him.” Ara admitted, twisting her thumbs. “When he saw me, he… was curious. Of us all, he found me the most interesting. I didn’t like it.”
“You carry great power, Miss Black. It is up to you what you chose to do with it.” He spoke with great sorrow.
And for a moment, an awful thought slipped into her mind. An awful image of the warlock from a dream she’d had, so many months ago. Crumpled robes and broken bones - blood pooled at the base of Hogwarts Castle.
She would never be able to trust him. Not when all she saw was a ghost, two decades before his time.
A ghost that left her stomach uneasy.
“I want to keep my brothers safe. I want to be free.” Ara finally spoke; unsurprised to see the Headmaster’s disapproval.
Nothing she said was ever what he wanted, was it? She would never be whatever he hoped of her.
“Then we shall work on that together.” He spoke reassuringly.
“Will we?” Her head tilted slightly as she appraised him; pursed lips and empty eyes.
The Headmaster’s eyes widened slightly at her disbelief - a nervous twitch to his brow as he regarded her intently.
“Miss Black, have I offended you in some way?”
“You haven’t done anything to give me an opinion of you, frankly.” She spoke bluntly. “You’re just a man with empty promises.” She shrugged; the gesture so casual and dismissive. “But I do hope you’ll prove me wrong.”
“As do I.”
——
“So how was the game?” Ara asked as she flopped onto her twin’s bed - the Maruaders sequestered in the dorm after the match.
Truthfully, she knew the answer.
Hufflepuff was slowly working its way up the tables; all thanks to her favourite brother. Regulus Black was a force on the pitch. Focused and brilliant and always able to spot the snitch.
She was certain that were it not for their family name, he’d already be receiving offers from teams.
Surprisingly, the boys did not groan or lament as she had figured. Instead, they looked to her with wide eyes - scrambling to hide papers under Peter’s pillows.
“What are you up to?” She asked, eyes narrowed as she scanned their faces for the weakest link.
Remus was stubborn. Looking to the window as though something outside was simply fascinating. Sirius much the same - refusing to meet her gaze lest she creep into his memories and find the answers for herself. Even if she hadn’t let the bond be as open since the close in March.
That left Petey and Jamie.
Usually, it was Pete that broke first. After all, she was his best friend of the group. Without her, he might not have made it to fourth year with decent grades.
And yet, that day… it was James that blurted the truth.
“We’re making a map!” He exclaimed, wincing as the boys all yelled dissent at his reveal.
Her head spun as she looked to her twin, forcing her way through his mind to spy hours spent on organising Pete’s sketches into a detailed depiction of Hogwarts Castle. Time in the library scouring books for how to make it reflect reality.
“You guys have been making a map without me?” Ara frowned as she sat upright, voice low with hurt as she remained focused on her twin.
“You said you wanted to have separate things.” Sirius grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
“That wasn’t what I meant and you know it.” She snapped in reply, her brother tensing as he lost his defensiveness under her upset.
“We didn’t tell you, because Sirius came up with the idea to try and track you.” Peter informed her, shooting a glare at Sirius.
“Are you kidding me?” She gasped, glaring at her twin as she shoved him and stood up.
“You keep getting into trouble!” He retorted.
“Why are you being such a dick recently?” She bit back, shaking her head disappointedly. “You know what? I don’t care. Have fun.” She spoke distastefully, flouncing towards the door.
Though she stopped as she reached it, looking back to the boys with a sigh.
“You can use Homeon revelio to track people with it.” She informed them primly. “Mix it with a naming charm and you’ll have every single student and teacher’s identity under their footprints.”
“You’re incredible.” James breathed, Ara blushing under the praise for only a moment before she parted with echoing stomps.
“Sirius, I don’t know why you’re being such a whiny shit recently, but it has got to end.” Remus spoke the very second the door clicked shut.
“Oh piss off.” The elder boy waved a hand in an act of dismissal.
“No, I won’t.” Snapped the werewolf. “What the fuck is your problem recently? Stop being a dick to your sister.”
“As someone without a sister of your own, Remus, I suggest you butt out.”
All at once, the blond boy grew very tense and red - his hands curling into fists as his body began to shake with stored energy.
“I suggest you stop talking before someone helps you to.” He spoke icily, glaring daggers at his friend, before following Ara’s suit and storming away.
——
29th May 1975
Few people could find Ara Black around the castle those days.
Gone was her head of indigo in the crowds. An empty spot at the Gryffindor table, an empty chair in the library between heads of blond, ginger and black.
Whispers bounded in the corridors of Hogwarts. Half-baked theories and gossip of where the eldest Black sibling could be.
“The latest theory is that you’re in some abandoned Potions classroom practicing secret Black family curses to use on your future husband.” Pandora spoke by way of greeting, dumping her bag as she folded to sit cross-legged on the forest floor. Her tie was precisely tied, jumper neat and crisp atop. Robes adorned with daisy chains; the flowers braided into her hair.
Few people could find Ara Black those days.
But if they wandered past the castle walls. If they walked down past the Black lake, through to the Forbidden Forest. Down by the pixie hollows and side-stepping the centaur groves. If they ventured far enough, they’d find a witch-made clearing in the trees. A space coated by magic; the ground sticky with it.
It was unlike the rest of the forest, now.
The grass tainted a soft blue, the leaves tinged pinkish on the ends of the scarred trees.
And it was sort-of beautiful.
“Merlin, that’d be something. As if Wally would let me even look at the grimoires.” Ara guffawed, pulling at the dead grass by a singed patch of earth. Her robes were crinkled and singed on the sleeves. Hair pulled into a messed knot atop her head - strands caught aside the burns of her face with glistens of sweat. And, if Pandora’s opinion counted for much, sort-of beautiful too. “Why’d you come out here? I thought you had Divination.”
“Well, Mantos is rather upset that you aren’t in attendance this morning.” Pandora pointed out as she flipped her knapsack open and searched the contents. “So she sent me to attempt convincing your favour.”
“Fat chance.” Ara snorted. “I’m handing in all the correct assignments, aren’t I? Getting all O’s in every subject and every test.” She smiled wryly, a shrug of self-assurance as she looked her best friend’s way.
“It’s driving poor Lily mad.” Pandora huffed a laugh, finally pulling a piece of yellowed parchment from the depths of her bag.
“What’s that?”
“My uncle wrote me.” Pandora spoke with confusion, dropping the letter into Ara’s outstretched hand. The girl unfolded the parchment - eyes scanning the wording with a growing furrow between her brows.
“Bartemius Crouch Senior?” Ara gasped as she read the post script. “I don’t speak your family’s code, Panda, I’m afraid. I can understand about two thirds of this.”
“He’s made Head of Magical law Enforcement. The gist of his melodramatics is that he’s trying to make Papa give him the list of wands sold.” The blonde sighed; hands on the grass behind her as she stretched to feel the sun on her face. Eyes closed gently, lined by glittering blue. The other witch watched her with gentle eyes and a soft blush - the letter like lead in her hand. Eyes lined with black and purple, dark like a bruise.
“But then he’d know every single wand’s owner.”
“Indeed.” She sniffed. “He wants me to convince papa.”
“What a slime.” Ara shuddered, pressing the parchment onto the grass between them.
“Indeed. I much prefer my Rosier relatives, despite their politics. I stayed with my cousins for a few years as a child, you know?” Pandora opened an eye - the blue a perfect match for her eyeliner.
“I didn’t.”
“After my father died, my mother went home as Pureblood grieving protocols dictate.” Pandora shrugged lightly, a playful smile upon her lips. “And when she died, I lingered for a final year. Evan begged me to stay, but I couldn’t. I often wonder the life I could have lived, had I stayed.”
“I suppose they would have raised you as his twin.” The other witch mused, lips twitching in a half-smile. “You both share a birthday, after all.”
“Don’t remind me.” Pandora shuddered. “I’ve always seen the echoes of that life, and I dread the day they swallow reality.”
“Do you want me to ask Barty to tell his dad not to bother you?”
“Your relationship with my cousin continues to elude my ken.” Pandora huffed. “All of my cousins, really.”
“They’re technically my cousins too, Panda.” Ara pointed out with a wry grin.
“I suppose.” She acquiesced with a soft shrug. “Why did the Aurors go to Grimmauld?”
“Someone sent in a tip that Wally was using Unforgivables.” Ara laughed without humour, twisting to pull a pack of cigarettes from her robe pocket. It was then that Pandora noticed the butts littering the ground around her. That the blonde wordlessly vanished the litter with a sad smile. “She told me that if I said anything, she’d take Reg away from me. Keep her little heir in her pocket.”
“Oh, Ara.”
“What else could I have done?” She shrugged, perching the cigarette between her lips; a snap of her fingers to light it. A new trick she’d been working on for parties. “I refused to even let them check me over.”
“My darling Ottie.” Pandora winced as she leant forwards to place a hand on her friend’s knee. Her thumb brushed softly against the cool skin, feeling stubble and traces of dirt.
“My mother is the worst woman alive. And I am her only daughter.” Ara sighed, puffing at her cigarette with one hand; the other rested upon her friend’s. “There’s a legacy I cannot escape.”
“Can’t you?” Pandora tilted her head as she appraised her. “All that blood and violence… perhaps it is time to lay down your arms.”
“But who am I if not mad? What am I if not Angry Ara?”
“You are not your mother.” She replied simply. “But, right now, those blackened vines that took the space of her heart are so wrapped around your hands. They pull you forth, and bloody them.”
“Aren’t I? Is she not just a person in an awful situation? One that grew tired of being kicked and started kicking back.”
“Oh, Ottie.”
“I’m sick of them all.” Ara confessed, voice wavering as she wiped tears away unkindly. “I’m tired of half my mind belonging to someone else, and I’m tired of everyone demanding my secrets. I… all I ever wanted was a childhood. To be able to make stupid decisions without everyone knowing. God, Panda, they all think I’m this tart that fucks my brother’s friends.”
“It was clear they were unforgiven.”
“Not to them.” She laughed bitterly, stubbing her half-smoked cigarette in the dirt. “To James and Sirius, their actions were extreme but warranted. My secrecy wasn’t acceptable. Remus and I, in their eyes, broke the Marauders Code. And as sorry as they are, they will never regret it.”
“You tolerate Potter far more.”
“He doesn’t share my mind. He knew it was wrong, but he didn’t know exactly how awful it would be for me.” She sighed deeply. “And he’s… he’s my Jamie. I don’t think I can ever be truly pissed at him.” Ara huffed at that revelation, a little put off to accept how very true it was.
Because there was a difference to how she and James worked, than anyone else.
Whether it was the fact that his family had taken her brothers in and given them love. Or the many dreams of what she was beginning to realise was his son. Or just that he was her Jamie, and he was always on her side.
Almost always.
“Panda, I… I can’t…” Ara’s breathing quickened as she looked to her friend with utter panic. “This is it, isn’t it?”
“It’s the first arrow slung on the battlefield.” Pandora sighed, reaching to squeeze her hand. “Your fight does not end with the first punch.”
“I’m not ready to fight, Panda.” Ara tried, utter pleading in her voice.
“Ottie, we don’t get that luxury.” The blonde sighed; both hands holding her friend’s. “Sometimes… we are born for destinies that were meant for a different time. A different Chosen One.”
There was nothing Ara could say in reply. Nothing she could think of to try and lighten how truly dour that thought was.
Instead, they enjoyed the silence of the forest.
Closed eyes as the breeze tickled the leaves like soft taps of keys on a piano. At some point, Pandora’s hand spun upwards and their fingers intertwined.
It was a funny sight, sometimes. The odd pair of lightness and shadows that Pandora Ollivander and Ara Black made.
Students in all houses remarked on how peculiar it was that the peppy blonde and moody witch had become so close, so very early on. It was almost comical seeing them walking through Hogwarts, arm-in-arm.
Pandora had her hair braided with ribbons and flowers. Long and sleek and straight as corn-silk, adorned by bursts of faint colour amongst the depths. Bows and ribbons along her school robes and weekend outfits. Fun patterns and colours and fabrics that flowed and sparkled.
And she glowed next to Ara.
Next to the dark indigo of the girl’s hair. The choppy cut and constantly shifting fringe length. Dark eyes of crimson and ink surrounding flat grey. Robes always a little battered and bloodied, her other clothes torn or adorned with safety pins.
They were tempered well by Lily Evans.
Her burst of vibrant orange between the light and dark. A mix of clean muggle clothes and pieces she’d stolen from the dark-haired girl. Brown shadow around her eyes and cherry red lips.
Growing strong and steady against the dirt and roughage. The three like wildflowers in an shredded land.
And, well… Ara knew she’d be a worse person without her flowers by her side.