YOU MAKE MY HEART SHAKE, BEND, AND BREAK BUT I CAN'T TURN AWAY!
aurora "rory" archer was a powerhouse. well, sort of. she was a fierce friend with a heart of gold and a love of music. she was also awkward, bad at potions, and... fatherless. her frie...
"and above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. those who don't believe in magic will never find it." — roald dahl
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AURORA ARCHER HAD READ her decent share of fairy tales growing up. Being named after a literal princess, they felt like required reading. She loved the idea of escaping. She was entranced with the thought that one day she could go on her hero's journey and discover courage and strength along the way. It was only ever just a dream, though. Aurora wasn't brave or strong or capable of ever escaping. That was what she thought until she was eleven years old.
It was July, and Aurora was sad about Christmas. The girl loved the holiday more than anything in the world, and her birthday was just ten days before it. She was just missing it, celebrating something. Although she never really did much for Christmas or her birthday anymore, at least not since her dad left. The girl was only five when he left, but for some odd reason she barely remembered him. She couldn't quite remember what he looked like, but she knew she looked like him. Aurora also knew he loved Christmas just as much as her.
Of course another year went by and she hadn't heard from him, just the standard monetary gift he was probably legally required to give them every few months.
Aurora didn't need a gift from her stupid father, not this year. Because on that warm July afternoon, she had finally gotten everything she ever wished for.
There was a knock on their front door. Aurora jumped up from the couch and eagerly ran towards it. "I got it, Mum!"
"Who is it, Aurora?" Her mother shouted from the kitchen.
She was about to reply, but she couldn't. She didn't know who was at the door when she opened it. A woman was standing in the doorway with her hair in a tight bun and a long plum colored cloak covering her tall, slender frame. Aurora had never seen anyone wearing anything like that, at least not in real life.
"Mum!" She shouted. "Who are you?" She asked a bit more quietly.
"I'm Professor Minerva McGonnagall. You're Aurora?" The woman spoke.
"Aurora Archer, that's me."
"Yes, Archer. Your mother's surname. Is she here? Your mother?"
"Aurora? Tell them we already go to a church and — oh! Sorry," her mother said, entering the room. "Oh, no."
"Christine, isn't it? I'm Professor Minerva McGonnagall, Deputy Headmistress at —"
"I know," she interrupted. "I think you should leave."
The McGonagall woman did not seem fazed. "I don't think I should. See, your daughter has a right to know where she comes from and no matter how hard you try to resist her... gift, it isn't going away. Now, Aurora, in my hands is an envelope addressed to you and inside is a letter. I'd like you to open it."
