i s o b e l
Isobel steadied herself with a hand on the wall as she walked back down the hallway. Her legs felt wobbly.
To lose both a husband and a daughter is a great loss.
She remembered waking up after the war; looking up with a throbbing head and a pounding heart to see her mother. You're safe now, baby. We're going to be okay now. She had believed it, but for the wrong reasons.
She found her mother in the kitchen, her thin face streaked with tears.
"Mum."
Maggie's forehead furrowed, but she did not look at her daughter.
"Mum, talk to me. Please."
No response. Isobel sat down across from her. "You let everyone think I was dead, didn't you? I was unconscious and you told people I was dead." The lump in her throat grew. "And that's why we had to move house, and why we couldn't ever leave or tell anyone we were here."
Her mother said nothing, so Isobel went on. "All this time, I thought it was all for our health - I thought I wasn't allowed to see my friends, because being alone would help me heal. But they think I'm gone?" Her voice cracked. "Ginny, Neville, Luna - is that what they think?"
Her mother finally looked up. "I'm sorry, Isobel."
"Did you think you could keep me here forever? Did you think that would help me? Mum, I've been so lonely." Tears welled in her mother's eyes; Isobel looked away scornfully. "I need some air."
She pushed open the back door, stomping into the garden. She paced back and forth there, trying to process it all. In all of the time that had passed since the war, nothing had been what she had thought it was. Her friends had thought her dead for an entire year now - they had grieved her and processed her passing. They might even have moved on with their lives: gone back to school, or started up jobs. And all the while she had been here, doing absolutely nothing with herself.
The lump in her throat was growing again, so she stopped and bit her lip, hard. She had thought that this was all normal. That it was normal to take time off to heal, that she would see everyone she knew again soon. Over the last year, her mother had become her best friend. How long had she planned to continue lying?
The door creaked behind her. Her mother moved slowly towards her, wringing her hands. Isobel turned away.
Maggie spoke timidly. "Isobel, you need to understand. When the war ended... It wasn't immediately clear that things might be safe again. So many Death Eaters were still alive - nobody was sure that they wouldn't revolt. And I had lost your father, and for a moment I thought I might lose you, too - and I couldn't -" Maggie broke off. "I just couldn't handle that. I acted selfishly, yes - but at the time, it really seemed to be in your best interest -"
"My best interest?" Isobel repeated. "Mum, you took my life from me."
"You needed to heal," Maggie pressed. "You needed time. For months you were so weak, there was no question of sending you back to the wizarding world, and there were Death Eaters still on the loose -"
"But I could have healed and done all that without having to convince everyone I was dead!" She rounded on her mother. "I could have just - stayed at home, like a normal person, in our old house; I could have stayed in contact with my friends -"
"No, you couldn't." Maggie shook her head. "That wouldn't have worked. People would have gone looking for you; there were people that didn't want you alive, they would have come for you -"
