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Everything was a blur.

Aquila had very effectively blocked everything out, even though her mind wanted nothing but to ignore the pain. The feeling of the singular presence in her mind, alone, truly alone for the first time in her life.

There were murmurs about how the traitor had been caught.

Well, at least Sirius got something right.

The Boy who Lived.

Aquila focused her mind on figuring out how Harry had survived.

They had tied her bloody hands behind her back, and one of them had said something about having to stun her, but she barely moved.

Barely acknowledged.

Barely heard as they took away Bellatrix, still loudly cackling, as they took away her brother's murderer. Aquila made a conscious effort of making eye contact with Barty Crouch Jr.

Count your days, she whispered in his mind.

He blanched visibly, his face going pale.

Maybe the merging of the twin cores of Regulus and Aquila gave her some new abilities.

She'd even take wand magic to have her brother back.

But these foolish Aurors had taken her wand as if it was going to save any of them.

They would die for killing her brother. For killing her James. For taking away Frank. For taking away Alice. For destroying Harry and Neville.

They would all burn.

But before, she had someone she had to see.

Fortunately, it seemed that person wanted to talk to her too.

- - -

Never did she imagine that she would walk the Hogwarts corridors again, with blood coating her hands and all alone. No one spoke, not even the paintings, not even the ghosts she saw sneaking looks at her. Outside, an echo to her own mind, a storm raged.

She approached the gargoyle. Not for the first time, she felt tempted to rip off the head of the stone bird.

She stepped on the staircase, standing still as it came to a stop in front of the door of the office.

"Hello, Professor," Aquila said, dragging her eyes over to the old man sitting on his grand chair with his half-moon spectacles and a twinkle in his eye. As if so many people hadn't tonight, because of him and his twisted vague plans.

"Miss Black," he said, his tone solemn yet conversational. "How are you?"

"Eventful night, hasn't it been?" she said, stepping forward, grazing a sharp nail on the headrest of the armchair kept in front of the desk.

"In the saddest of ways," he replied, folding his hands on top of the table.

"Am I to assume you did not wish for this outcome?"

"I never wished for this to happen."

Aquila calmed the raging storm in her mind.

"Assuming I believe that," she said, her tone a striking contrast from her mind, "there are two people I am looking for, and I am sure that you are aware of their whereabouts."

"The two people being?" Dumbledore asked, tilting his head to the side.

"My brother, first of all." The words choked her.

"Miss Black, your brother —" he began, his eyes alight with fake pity.

She fought the urge to break his nose.

Outside, lightning.

"Not Re —" she began, his name a burn on her tongue. "Not him. Sirius."

"Mr. Black's whereabouts, even I am concerned about."

Aquila quirked her eyebrow, not believing a word coming out of the old geezer's mouth.

"Second, the child," she said, choosing to come to the next topic, not wanting to spend any more time in his company than necessary.

"What child?"

"How many infants do you know?"

"You'd be surprised."

"I am not joking, professor," she said, a glint in her eyes. Thunder crashed with a tilt of her head, rattling the windows.

"I wish I was, Miss Black."

"Where is the child, Albus?" she asked quietly, dangerously.

"Safe, and that's what matters," he said with a finality.

"That's not what I asked."

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you the location of the baby, Miss Black."

"Is it because of the mark that once rested on my arm?" she asked lowly, prowling closer like a cat on the hunt.

"Is it because after everything that happened, you still don't trust a Slytherin?" she said, her eyes narrowing.

"My brother died," she said, the words choking her, "for one of your own today, so forgive me, Professor, if I'm not cordial towards you. So I will ask you one last time. Where is the child."

Dumbledore sighed. "There is magic, bigger than you or I, here, Miss Black. For Harry Potter's safety -"

Aquila cut him off. "Harry Potter? His name his Harry Evans-Potter," she said. "I understand your disdain for Slytherins, professor, but Lily was one of your own. She just saved the wizarding world and you can't even bother to give her child her name?" she scoffed.

"No power lies in a name, Miss Black."

Before Aquila could say anything, a copy of the evening Prophet came in through the window.

SIRIUS BLACK : TRAITOR OF THE POTTERS — KILLS TWELVE MUGGLES AND FRIEND.

And Aquila knew then, for good.

There was no one.

- - -

Funerals, funerals, funerals.

Aquila was given suspicious looks at every funeral. She stood in the corner as Lily's muggle sister and her husband came to pay their respects, their son almost the same age as Harry. The spindly woman held Harry as if he was an insect, and it took everything in Aquila to not grab Harry and disapparate. She could nearly hear Regulus' voice in her head telling her to not do anything stupid.

Aquila had, for once, kept aside her pride and pleaded with Dumbledore to have a separate funeral for Lily and James, not only because she wanted her last moments with James to be private, but because she felt that Lily deserved a separate place for herself and her sacrifice.

Sirius was imprisoned, and Aquila was willing to go down to the deepest sewers to find that rat, but on the only visit to Sirius that she had been allowed, Sirius had forbidden her from doing so.

Aquila probably would not listen to him, but after the funerals.

She would think about the rest of her life after the funerals.

However long they may last.

Every rival player he had played against, every first-year he had helped navigate the castle, every Professor he had made laugh, every shop-owner in Diagon Alley he had had a joke with. Every person's life he had unknowingly touched, left an impact on their hearts, every person whose life James Potter played even a minuscule part in, everyone was there.

Except the ones James gave his heart for.

Sirius.

Peter.

Marlene.

Frank.

Alice.

Lily.

And Aquila was there, counting off prayers for each person that was missing, missing and gone.

Here lies James Potter, loved by all. He could be the most annoying person on the planet, and he could be the most loveable fool. He brought his girlfriend flowers on rainy days just because 'it was a thing to do', and he danced with his mother in the kitchen when she said she loved his girlfriend. He took in his best friend and swore to take care of him at the age of fifteen, and he trusted too much and it ended with him lying in an open coffin for everyone to gawk at him.

He swore to love his girlfriend, his Aquila till kingdom come, and now that everything had gone to hell, she still felt his love in some corner of her heart which was not overcome by grief.

Evening fell, and the people departed. Aquila had threatened to burn the films and robes if anyone dared bring a camera inside the space.

Needless to say, it had guaranteed Aquila her own corner as people made an active effort to stay away from her.

People mourned for the young couple that died, poor Lily and James Potter. Such bright students died so early.

And Aquila wanted to scream that James was hers, but were they wrong? A young couple had indeed died. They just got the name wrong.

A handful of people showed up at Regulus' funeral. He was supposed to be buried as a Death Eater, but Aquila had offered to arrange for another funeral when this idea was suggested. Adrian and Rowan showed up, but they stayed behind the treeline, and it was good, because Aquila wasn't sure that if they came forward they would go back alive.

Remus had been her only shoulder the past few days as they both mourned the loss of everyone in their lives.

Remus had simply dropped a kiss to Regulus' forehead and dropped a rose on his coffin as it was being lowered down.

Morning came, and Aquila rested her head on her brother's tombstone after crying in front of it all night.

And for the last time, perhaps for no one else she would do so, Aquila Druella Black knelt in front of the people she loved, in front of the people she lost.

And she rose, never to kneel again.

JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER

1960 - 1981

MEET ME AGAIN IN THE SKIES.

REGULUS BLACK

1961 - 1981

FROM THE STARS WE RISE, AND TO THE STARS WE RETURN.

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