A Potter Secret

Knowledge From Beyond

Gone. All but a bright white mist. Isabella lies face down. For a long moment. Finally, she stirs, sits up. Touches her face. She peers into the mist. Nothing. But somewhere, out there, in the mist, is a soft thumping. She stands. Peers up. A domed glass roof hovers, familiar. The thumping persists, unnerving. Isabella squints into the mist. Moving, the thumping growing louder. Up ahead, a small mass quivers. Isabella slows recoils. A thing, like a small naked child, lies shuddering on the ground, its skin raw and rough. Isabella leans close. "You cannot help," Severus says. Isabella spins, finding Severus standing within the mist. At the sight of Isabella, Severus beams and spreads his arms wide. Isabella runs forward and hugs him. "Isabella. My little girl. You brave, brave girl. Let us walk."

"Papa, I did as you said. The Horcrux is gone. Only Nagini is left." Isabella assures.

"You did so well, Sweetie," Severus assures.

"So, am I really dead?" Isabella asks.

"Ah. That is the question, isn't it? On the whole I think not," Severus says.

"Not?" Isabella checks.

"Not," Severus repeats.

"But I didn't defend myself. I let him kill me," Isabella says.

"And that will, I think, have made all the difference. The Horcrux may have protected you," Severus says. "It was just destroyed only moments ago by none other than Voldemort himself.

Isabella plays her fingers over her sternum. "You were the Horcrux he never meant to make." Isabella ponders this, then, deep in the mist, the thumping returns.

"Papa, is that-?" Isabella trails off.

"Something beyond either of our help," Severus assures. "Not that you should help it.

Isabella ponders his surroundings. "Exactly where are we, Papa?"

"I was going to ask you that. Where would you say that we are?" Severus questions knowingly.

"It looks like King's Cross station, only a lot cleaner. And without the trains," Isabella says.

"King's Cross! Is that right? Well, this is, as they say, your party."

Isabella looks perplexed by this, but Severus only smiles. "Papa, why didn't you just tell me about the Deathly Hallows?"

"You will have to forgive me, Sweetie. You see I didn't trust you were ready," Severus says. Isabella stares at him. For the first time in a while, Severus looks troubled. "I feared that you would make the same mistake I made, that you would be intoxicated by the power the Hallows promise their possessor. But I crave your pardon, Sweetie. It's clear to me now, as it should have been all along, that you are the better person."

"Papa-" Isabella starts.

"You are the worthy possessor of the Hallows, Izzy, not me. Dumbledore was fit to own the Elder Wand, because he took it not for gain, but to save others from it. But he took the Stone because he longed to recall someone who has long been at peace and for that he paid with my life," Severus explains.

"He wanted to see Ariana again, didn't he, Papa?" Isabella guesses.

"Yes."

Isabella ponders this, then frowns. "I used the Stone as well, sir, only a little while ago when I entered the Forest. I saw you, and Sirius and Lupin," Isabella explains.

"True. But ask yourself this, were you calling them? Or were they calling you?" Isabella studies Severus, whose expression remains serene. "You are the true master of death, Izzy, because the true master does not seek to run away from death. She accepts that she must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world."

For a moment, they stand in silence. "I've got to go back, haven't I?" Isabella asks.

"That is up to you," Severus says.

"I've got a choice?"

"Oh yes. We are in King's Cross, you say? I think, should you so decide, you would be able to, let's say, board a train."

"And where would it take me?" Isabella asks.

"On."

Isabella nods. "Voldemort's got the Elder Wand," Isabella says, weighing the options.

"True."

"And the snake lives," Isabella lists.

"Yes."

"And I've nothing to kill it with."

"'Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it'," Severus says, quoting Dumbledore. Isabella glances at him. "I have always prized Dumbledore's ability to turn a phrase, words are, in my not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic, capable both of inflicting injury and remedying it. But I would, in this case, amend his original statement to this' help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who most deserve it. Assuming circumstances in the main are favorable to such an outcome, of course."

"With all due respect, Papa, I think what we need here is a miracle," Isabella replies.

"I've never put much stock in miracles, Sweetie. On the other hand, I can attest wholly to the extensive advantages of a related phenomenon."

"Which would be, sir?" Isabella asks.

"Luck," Severus smiles. Isabella studies Severus's face, then peers back into the mist again. The thumping continues, more faintly. "Do not pity the dead, Izzy. Pity the living and, above all, those who live without love."

"Papa, my mother's Patronus. It was a doe, wasn't it? Just like yours. Curious, don't you think?" Isabella asks.

"Actually, if I think about it it doesn't seem curious at all. I'll be going now, Harry."

"Papa," Isabella calls. As Severus stops, Isabella gestures vaguely. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Izzy. But why should that mean that it is not real?" Severus asks. Severus beams as the mist thickens around him, then swallows him altogether.

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"Is he alive? Narcissa whispers.

Isabella lies facedown. She opens her eyes a millimeter, finds Narcissa's face swimming in the dawn's muted light, eyeing her with a strange intensity, the question, she realizes, was posed to her. "My lord, let me help you-" Bellatrix says.

"I do not require assistance," Voldemort hisses. Across the clearing, Voldemort rises shakily, Bellatrix at his elbow. The Death Eaters watch, stirring uncertainly. Voldemort glances toward Narcissa, toward Isabella. Bellatrix detects the wary glint in his eyes.

"The girl. Is she dead?" Bellatrix asks.

Isabella's eyes shift, meet Narcissa's once again. Narcissa places her fingers over her heart and whispers. "Is he alive? Draco?" Narcissa asks. Isabella hesitates and then nods, so subtly it's barely perceptible. Narcissa withdraws her hand, turns to where Bellatrix stands alongside Voldemort. "Dead." The Death Eaters cheer. Hagrid howls in misery. The news seems to rejuvenate Voldemort. A fierce glint returns to his eyes. His stature grows. He eyes the Elder Wand and smiles.

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