Forget-Me-Not → Regulus Black

Interests and Lemon Drops

It was Lark. She looked very clearly distraught; her face was red but she was frantic — her eyes searching every where until they finally landed on the ground. For a few seconds everyone stood there as the Scamander gaped at it, but then she grabbed it off the ground, taking a large bite.

Everyone remained standing there as she finished eating it, before she glanced back up and gave a cheeky smile. 

Aurelia would be lying if she said that she wasn't in love.

Platonically, of course...

It might have been just the fact that she related so much to her in that moment, or the fact that she genuinely liked girls, not just boys. I mean, she did have some sort of awakening when she first came to Hogwarts and met someone in the year above her...

Who knows, but while Dumbledore's usual calm features turned into disgust, and Madam Pomfrey seemed to be silently judging Lark as she did so often, Aurelia admired her from a distance. A weird thing to be admiring her for, but god — she was great, and she only shared a few of her classes with her.

But before anyone could say anything, the Scamander was gone.

"Sometimes it is best to ignore the some of the more... concerning things in life," Dumbledore said in a wise tone.

"Then why don't you ignore the Potters?" Pomfrey questioned. "They are quite weird and you give them special treatment."

Aurelia raised her eyebrows. "Special treatment, you say?"

Dumbledore let out a long sigh. "I like to show them some of my collections of unusual artifacts."

"You sound like a Disney princess that may be coming out in the year 1989 that has a bizarre interest in Muggles and looks like a Weasley and has a lot of the same personality of Arthur Weasley. So, I guess I'm telling you this to ask: Are you descended from the Weasley family?"

Dumbledore looked like he was genuinely confused as to what to respond. Coughing, he said, "Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you something." He cast a weary glance around. "Privately, of course."

Aurelia shrugged. "Avoiding answering the most important questions in life. As you always do." Dumbledore looked about ready to say something, but she exited the Hospital Wing and walked up to his office — Dumbledore following suit.

Dumbledore said the password to a gargoyle, and it then stepped aside. The two stepped on a circular, moving stone staircase. Aurelia was glad it was moving because she would have had to spend the whole rest of the month complaining about the time Dumbledore forced her to exercise without her consent, and maybe she would add a few twists that she had to fight a dragon and find a lost treasure, then navigate a maze before she could even get there.

She was all about the dramatics.

"So," began Aurelia as she observed some silver instruments and looked at numerous portraits of sleeping people, "what do you need to talk about?"

"Do you remember what happened before you woke up in the Hospital Wing?" Dumbledore asked gently. 

Aurelia paused. "I woke up in the Hospital Wing?" Once she saw the disbelieving expression on the Headmaster's face she added quickly, "Just joking. Haha. I'm so funny."

"I would beg to differ," said a voice. Aurelia whirled around. What in Hagrid's buttcrack was that?

She actually said the last part aloud. 

How embarrassing.

"Hagrid's what now?" Dumbledore said in somewhat of a bemused way.

"Hagrid's buttcrack. It's actually used so frequently that that is a common wizard swear. It's even in the '100 Most Well-Known Phrases in the Wizarding World'."

Dumbledore let out another exasperated sigh. The mysterious voice was laughing rather loudly at what Aurelia had said, prompting her to turn around and find the owner of the voice.

The owner was in one of the portraits. He had dark, shrewd narrow eyes — as well as raven hair. He was still laughing when Aurelia caught sight of him. "That will forever remain in my vocabulary."

"Not now, Phineas," Dumbledore said calmly.

Aurelia snickered.

Calmly.

"You're no fun," Phineas complained in disdain. "Compared to the other headmasters I thought you were quite alright."

"Like you're one to talk," Dumbledore scoffed, waving his hand dismissively.

"I'm going to be honest with you," started Aurelia, "this doesn't seem exactly 'private'."  

Dumbledore silently agreed. "I'm a bit too lazy to find a secluded place within the castle. There's always going to be someone listening."

"Creepy," muttered Aurelia.

"Indeed." Dumbledore turned his attention to the portrait, his usual twinkling eyes flashing, as if to say, If you dare say anything...

Aurelia had never seen this side of Dumbledore, but Merlin was she entertained.

"Self-centered brat," Phineas mumbled before completely leaving his portrait.

What in the Floppy-Wanded Dementor Boggerer?

Dumbledore seemed glad that there was finally some peace and quiet. He magicked some tea for himself and offered some to Aurelia, but she refused. 

All she wanted was her daughter back.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions," Dumbledore said, clasping his fingers together. "And hopefully you can put your humor aside and answer the questions as best as you can."

Aurelia snorted. As if. 

Sensing that it might be a bit harder, since Aurelia was acting like one would act if someone were to take copious amounts of drugs, Dumbledore smiled pleasantly — before offering her a lemon drop.

Hesitantly, Aurelia accepted, popping it into her mouth. I mean, it was free food after all. 

It tasted a bit weird.

Aurelia was too delirious to care.

"Do you remember what happened before you woke up in the Hospital Wing?" Dumbledore asked. Aurelia furrowed her brow, squinting as if it would help her remember. "I'm not quite sure; I remember some flashes of something." She paused, before saying, "I bet whatever reason I woke up in the Hospital Wing has something to do with Snape; he's the reason my life is a living hell, it must have to do with him."

"What were the flashes?" Dumbledore pressed, taking temporary by surprise by Aurelia's accurate, but unusual deductive skills.

"Yelling," Aurelia replied simply. "Someone said something — and let me inform you, I've taken Latin before so I remember that I wasn't completely thrilled with what was being shouted. I think it was a curse, and there was an underlying meaning behind the name, since — obviously — it was in Latin. A dead language, but a useful one to know if you're a witch."

"I'm impressed," Dumbledore complimented absentmindedly, "do you remember what else happened?"

Aurelia thought for a couple seconds. "It hurt," she said. "It was like knives were cutting me over, and over, and over again. I remember every once in a while the pain would temporarily disappear, but then it would start again and again. And then," Aurelia wondered whether she should say the next part, but her mouth was moving against her will, "there was a faint, luminescent glowing." She nodded, content with how much she remembered. 

Dumbledore looked pleased. "My suspicions were correct."

Aurelia would have normally questioned what 'suspicions', but she was too busy eating all of the lemon drops out of a large container to care.

Dumbledore was certain — Aurelia Livierre was no ordinary witch.