Trouvaille - something lovely discovered by chance
A Slytherin and a Gryffindor are sworn enemies. Families, friendships, relationships, all are infected by house rivalry.
So are James Potter, proud and brave Gryffindor, and Aquila Black, cunning a...
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It was like a bucket of cold water in her face, she quickly disapparated with no concrete location in her mind, which was so very dangerous, but relied on her bond to Regulus to quickly take her to the location where he needed help.
The Longbottom residence.
Either Dumbledore was stupid enough to remove the Fidelius charm because 'Voldemort was dead' or it was a very weak charm because Aquila waltzed right in. The house was in a better condition than the one at Godric's Hollow, the one which Aquila refused to think about. She refused to think about anything other than the fact that Regulus needed her help right now. Refused to think about the only man she had ever fallen in love with, lying dead with his bright eyes absolutely dull.
Not as she heard the unmistakable whoosh of spells firing throughout the house. A loud cackle echoed through the house as the same green halo that was going to be burnt behind Aquila's eyes till kingdom come surrounded the house.
The Death Eaters were here, and they had killed someone.
Aquila hurried in to where the gate was torn apart from the hinges. She shut out the image of the broken gate in Godric's Hollow.
"Aquila!" Regulus shouted from the top of the staircase, a very bad position to be in, as he fought Bellatrix and a young boy.
She immediately responded to her brother's call, going up from the other side and standing next to him. "Who's the lad?" she shouted over the voices and sounds of spells firing and hitting.
"Barty Crouch Junior," Regulus said, grinning. "Reckon old man Crouch is gonna get a right shock when he finds out."
Aquila felt the adrenaline of the battle drown out her sorrow, releasing all her frustration into her spells, making each one hit harder than the last.
For Lily. A jet of red light from her hands.
For Alice. A scream from Crouch Jr. as he's hit.
For Frank. A stray piece of wood flying to knock down the Death Eaters coming.
For Neville. Sweet, little baby Neville. A spell chaining one masked Death Eater to a pillar.
For Harry, a baby whose life was destroyed before he even learnt how to walk.
For James. Her James. James that would never fly on a broom again, never wink at her when he shoots the quaffle through the hoop, never send her random flowers or learn facts about poisons to make conversation with her.
And then, she allowed the tears to break free, sobbing uncontrollably as she shot spell after spell at the Death Eaters, the people who blindly followed the man who killed a man who was so kind, so beautiful and so happy. Who killed a girl who was so brave, so fiery and so giving. Who manipulated a man into betraying all his friends, the ones who had taken him in at the age of eleven, defended him from his bullies and trusted him with their lives.
