Elizabeth wanted to keel over and vomit, but she couldn't. They were outside now and the wind was so strong and loud it whistled. She could feel the cold seeping into her bones. She was still floating, floating, floating. There was sunlight somewhere beyond her eyelids. Bright and blinding. The footsteps sounded muffled and crunched. It had been snowing. Somehow, even without her vision, she knew it was true.
Until suddenly, she was dropped harshly onto the ground. The snow below cushioned her fall, but she still felt the pain of a stick digging into her elbow. Elizabeth still did not flinch. She did not move. Terror seized her entire being. Someone was watching her.
A moan from her side froze her insides. The stranger watching sucked in a startled breath, paused, and then kicked the body next to her.
"Creepy fuckin thing." the voice muttered in Swedish. The feet turned and walked back the way they came, growing more and more distant. Elizabeth dared to open her eyes a crack. The figure retreated through the woods. Elizabeth waited till he was finally gone, and then opened her eyes fully. Still she waited, and waited. Just to be sure. After a few long minutes stretched by, Elizabeth sat up stiffly and brought her hand to her elbow. The snow had seeped into the clothing she wore.
Elizabeth vomited as her memories collided.
She vaguely remembered putting the flimsy dress on that fateful summer morning. No, not her. Aliena.
She was Elizabeth. Elizabeth.
Now, it was wintertime and she wore nothing more than scraps of rags. She remembered being starved and tortured. She remembered Aliena's mind fracturing into thousands of pieces over and over. She remembered the last month Aliena had spent begging for death. And the first months begging for mercy. Not for herself, but for her little sister.
Her little sister, who died first. Her little sister who had been brought to the forest months ago, bloated and cold and stiff.
Her father was the next to die. He was properly insane by then. He spoke in tongues and had scratched his fingernails off on the walls of the basement cellar. He drew strange symbols with his own blood. He convulsed toward the end. Hitting his head over and over against the stone floor.
Elizabeth glanced over now. It was his body that had made the groaning sound, and who the man had kicked. He was staring at her. His eyes were milky grey. Mouth hung open with black dried blood coating the inside. His tongue was thick and white. His face had blisters and his skin had turned a sickly green.
She did not look at the other body. Some part of her could not stomach it.
Elizabeth shuttered and turned away, forcing her stiff limbs to move.
Just stand up. Just get up, that's all you have to do.It took several tries, and in the process Elizabeth had started to cry angry, hot tears. She could feel Aliena's father staring into her back with lifeless eyes.
But the tears warmed her face. At the very least.
It took a while to lift her limbs off the ground. When she finally did, she swayed on her feet and had to grab a nearby tree to keep herself standing.
Elizabeth's mind reeled as she leaned against the tree, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The memories of magic that had flooded her consciousness earlier now took on a new significance. Wands, spells, potions—they weren't just fragments of a child's imagination. They were real.
A realization dawned on her, so absurd that she almost laughed.
Magic wands. Potions and bubbling cauldrons. Bowtruckles?
There was only one world that had these things.
Harry Potter.
Elizabeth remembered words on a page. Movies on the television.
But what other world had creatures like that? What other world had magic like that?
No, that couldn't be true. Not really. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. If this was true, then she had a way out. Apparition.
No, it was too silly. She was going insane. She couldn't have woken up in the world of Hogwarts and magic and Harry Potter. She was dreaming.
But the pain was real. The memories too vivid.
Elizabeth's eyes trailed from the sky, outlined by bare trees. They fell back onto the lumps on the ground. Two large lumps. Her stomach seized.
A man's hand holding a wand, repairing a scrape on Aliena's knee. A woman with hair as white as snow carefully chopping ingredients into fine pieces before dropping them into a bubbling cauldron.
It couldn't be real.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying to remember the three D's. She knew Harry Potter so well. It was like a hobby. Or a home.
In that world, apparition required three things: Destination, Determination, Deliberation. She pictured a safe place—anywhere but here—and turned on the spot.
Nothing happened.
Her father's hand, grabbing a live gnome by the head and tossing it over the garden wall.
It's real, Elizabeth thought. Just to keep her going. To give her some warmth, some light. Just pretend it's real.
She tried again, gritting her teeth against the pain in her stiff muscles. Still nothing. Panic began to set in. What if she couldn't do it? What if she was trapped here, in this frozen forest of death?
Elizabeth took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She was thinking like Elizabeth, not Aliena. She needed to access Aliena's memories, her magical knowledge. Closing her eyes once more, she delved deep into the recesses of her borrowed mind.
Images flashed before her: a cozy living room, a warm-faced woman demonstrating the proper wand movement, a young Aliena practicing in secret.
She turned again, this time feeling a slight pull behind her navel. But still, she remained rooted to the spot. Frustration welled up inside her, threatening to overwhelm her fragile composure.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the snow, Elizabeth's attempts grew more desperate. She pictured different destinations: Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, even number 12 Grimmauld Place. Each time, she felt the magic stirring within her, but it wasn't enough.
Then, as twilight deepened into night, a memory surfaced—not Aliena's, but Elizabeth's own. A quote from the books: "The important thing is to mean it."
Elizabeth had been so focused on the technique, on Aliena's memories, that she had forgotten the most crucial element: intent.
Elizabeth straightened up, ignoring the protest of her aching body. She closed her eyes one last time. But instead of picturing a destination, she focused on a feeling. Safety, warmth, home. Not Aliena's home, but the concept of home itself.
She turned, and this time, the pull behind her navel was unmistakable. The world compressed around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. For a terrifying moment, she thought she might be torn apart.
And then, suddenly, it was over. Elizabeth opened her eyes to find herself standing in a dimly lit street. Gaslight lamps cast a warm glow over cobblestone pavements, and a creaky sign hung from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The Leaky Cauldron.
She had done it. She had apparated.
As relief washed over her, Elizabeth stepped forward, tears streaming down her face. She was alive. She was alive.
But her foot slid out from under her as she took a step. The world went silent as gravity pulled her. A sharp pain in her temples. Her eyes slowly closed and opened as a loud ringing overtook every thought. The lights dimmed and a shadowy figure approached. There was nothing now. No beginning and no end. Elizabeth did not remember surrendering consciousness.
—
Tom Riddle did not care much for winter. Cold, wet things were not something he gravitated toward.
He never truly understood the fuss about Christmas or snow. It was a fool's holiday. The only good thing were the presents to be gained.
He'd received plenty of presents on Christmas and his birthday— now that he was a fifth year. Each year they'd become more expensive and elaborate. Before his time at Hogwarts, Tom had received nothing but some scraps from donation bins. But Christmas at Hogwarts was something else entirely. It's warmth seemed to glow brighter after all the other students had left. When snow fell outside, it felt just a bit cozier than usual. This particular night, a blizzard loomed beyond the window of the dim library.
A voice called. It would be curfew soon.
Tom rose and closed the book he had been reading, still staring at the storm outside. This would certainly be one for the newspapers. A blizzard in Scotland. How unusual.
Normally, Tom would be spending his Christmas afternoon at one of his friends' balls or dinner parties. This year, it was supposed to be Malfoy hosting.
But only two days ago Abraxas Malfoy had sent Tom a letter stating that the party had to be called off. Tom read following letters from his followers discussing their disappointment and inviting him to stay at their own manors. Tom had rejected all such invitations. Most of the letters had gossiped about Malfoy's family and how improper it was to cancel such an event only two days before it was to take place.
Malfoy's letter was received with Tom's great interest.
'Dear Tom,
Obviously you would have received the unfortunate news. The party has been canceled.
It seems my mother received some unfortunate news and is in disarray. Of course, I knew she'd had a sister, but my parents never spoke of her. I've never met my aunt. She'd eloped with some wizard after she graduated from Hogwarts some years ago and hadn't been in touch with my family since. My mother and Aunt were not on good terms.
It seems my estranged Aunt has gone and been murdered. Grindelwald's forces took over Sweden. My Aunt and her Husband were hiding out in a manor in the countryside when they were captured and tortured for months. This of course would not be quiet so regrettable, as I did not know these people at all.
If not for my cousins involvement. Of course, I've never met my cousins before. In fact, I never even knew of their existence until now. I had two female cousins— who knew? Certainly not me.'
Tom rolled his eyes. This letter was getting quite tedious. He persevered.
'Now it seems we must prepare a funeral for these strangers. Seems like a waste of money to me since they never even bothered to send a letter to us before, but who am I to speak on these matters? My cousin is in a coma in St. Mungo's. I'm surprised to find my mother is quite worked up about it. I didn't think she was close with her sister. I suppose it must be the shock of it all.
I've sent your present by owl since our plans have been thrown to the side. Though, I heard the weather is not very favorable and do not know if it will reach you in time before the coming storm. Happy Christmas.
Your loyal follower,
Abraxas Malfoy'
Tom tossed the letter onto his desk.
Familial problems were much more tedious and boring than any other subject. The only bit he had found interesting was the part about Grindelwald taking over Sweden and murdering Malfoy's relatives.
It really was quite nice having the entire dorm room to himself. There was already a surplus of male Slytherins in his year. A whopping eight of them had been sharing a single room since their first year. While the numbers certainly played out in Tom's favor the majority of the time, he often wished he had is own private quarters.
Abraxas had been right. Tom hadn't received Malfoy's present in time before the storm. In fact, he hadn't received any at all. He was sure this would be rectified once the storm cleared, but he still sat alone in his room with nothing to show for his success at making "friends". Of course, he never really considered them his friends. Followers. Worshipers. Sheep. Tools. These words were much more fitting.
It took another day after Christmas for all the packages and letters to start coming in. It was a busy breakfast. Not many students remained at school during the winter holidays, but of all of them, Tom certainly had the most impressive display of presents and letters dropped in front of his food at breakfast. He had to levitate them all to his rooms due to the sheer size.
He spent his time opening them. The first package he received was from some girl. Ravenclaw, pretty, popular, and pureblood. He tested them for a love potion, as he always did when he received a present from a girl. When none seemed to be involved, he popped a chocolate into his mouth and savored the sweetness as he opened the rest of his mountain of gifts.
When he was finally finished, he set aside all of his expensive gifts and letters from admirers. He had no desire to open any letters now.
Still, Malfoy's elaborate handwriting stood out from the rest, and Tom took it into his hands. The daily prophet peeked through underneath the letter and he picked that out as well.
He opened Malfoy's letter.
'Dear Tom,
I'm writing to you from Denmark. It's quite pretty here, but horrifically cold. The funeral had to be held here because their bodies could not be retrieved from the forest they were abandoned in, and Sweden is in a right state with this war. Denmark certainly isn't doing much better. How morbid it was to watch three empty coffins being lowered into the ground.
My father is upset about the matter of inheritance. The entire Greengrass manor and grounds have been overtaken by those murderous ruffians who killed them. Of course, this would mean nothing if my aunt had married some insignificant half-blood. But she actually had eloped with a Greengrass. They're quite wealthy and reputable. My father is absolutely fuming.
Not only this but their financial accounts were entirely in Sweden and even after transferring the funds to Gringotts, our family was given no access to them. They apparently are all left in my insolent cousin's name. She's still in a coma. She apparently somehow managed to apparate away from the scene. She's the only survivor. My mum's gone to visit her but I absolutely refuse to go. The girls practically dead. It would be disgusting.
It seems my mother was actually named Godmother to the girl. Seems a bit strange since my mother and aunt haven't spoken in years. They truly must not have had any friends at all. Pathetic life to live. Just goes to show what happens when you marry a dimwit. Dead in a frozen forest.
Anyhow, it seems if the girl manages to survive she'll have to be brought into my family. My mother already said that if she wakes, she should be brought to the manor. I can't imagine a worse nightmare.
Regrettably,
Abraxas Malfoy'
Tom crumpled it up and tossed it over his shoulder. He picked up the prophet. The first page was covering the blizzard. The next page was about the war. Tom read it thoroughly. He was wrapped up in the politics of the wizarding world when he turned the page. A large photograph displayed a young girl laying motionless in a hospital bed.
That wasn't what caught his attention, though. Dumbledore himself stood in front of the bed with a grim-looking expression. There was another, smaller photograph below it. This one was older, and showed a small family. It wasn't moving, so it must have been muggle. A family unit. A tall man and slender woman. A baby was swaddled in the woman's arms, and a young girl had her arms wrapped around her father's shoulders. The caption read, 'The last known photograph of the Greengrass Family, 1930'
Tom could see the uncanny resemblance in Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Greengrass. They both had stark platinum blonde hair with a piercing gaze. The photo was black and white, but Tom could imagine those icy blue eyes. Those high aristocratic cheekbones and perfect mouth. A beautiful young women. Twins. They had been twins.
Tom glanced at the little girl. Was this the one that had survived?
The girl stared into the camera's lense with a defiant, angry expression. Her little eyes were stormy and on fire. Her hair was long and white. Tom wondered if she looked like her mother by now. If her eyes were the same icy blue. If her hair the same white-blonde.
Tom scanned the article. So the older one was indeed the one who had survived. She was currently lying unconscious in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's. Professor Dumbledore had discovered her in front of the Leaky Cauldron and immediately brought her to the urgent care facility. News of the parents and younger sisters death. The manor overrun by Grindelwald's forces. The article posed questions about the girls escape and unknown future.
She's fifteen years old. Tom's age. Of course, though, he'd be turning sixteen in a few days.
If she had attended Hogwarts, would she have been in his year? This thought was discarded almost immediately. Such things did not matter. Tom closed the paper and tossed it to the side right next to Malfoy's letter.
There was nothing much else to do but wait.
Elizabeth woke slowly. At first it felt like a heavy weight pressed on her chest incessantly. An image of Atlas holding up the sky conjured in her mind. Trying to stay awake was just as difficult as holding up the sky.
Then, just like that, sleep claimed her again.
The second time she woke was at night. There were no bright lights. Just a soft glow from a small window in the door. Elizabeth's mouth had never been drier. When she tried to move, it took a strenuous effort to even lift her arm. There was a glass of water on the table. She smacked her lips and did her best to muster whatever strength possible.
Picking up the glass proved to be more difficult than preconceived notions. Elizabeth's hand shook profusely until the glass slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor.
Moments later, the door thrust open and a middle-aged woman came in wearing a strange sort of outfit. She was dressed like Florence Nightingale, in a long grey dress with a white apron and white cap. At her waist hung a bundle of small metal devices that clanged when she walked, and in her hand she held a long wooden stick. Perhaps the woman had just finished plucking a nicely shaped branch off a tree.
The woman looked shocked but quickly schooled her features. "Hello," she said softly, and waved the stick in the air. To Elizabeth's amazement the glass repaired itself and all the water disappeared. The nearby pitcher miraculously rose into the air and poured a fresh glass. Like magic!
"Woah." Elizabeth tried to say but it came out cracked and incoherent, sounding more like an old frog croaking. The woman plucked the cup right out of the air and lifted it to Elizabeth's dry lips. She gulped down the water greedily.
"Slowly," the woman said, withtaking the glass. Elizabeth swallowed. And her stomach turned over.
She took in deep breaths.
"Aliena, how are you feeling?" The nurse asked.
Elizabeth looked up at the woman in confusion. Aliena? That's not her name. No, her name is Elizabeth.
But then the memories came flooding back. It hit her like a tsunami, and she leaned her head back against the pillow with a sudden lightheaded daze. The woman lifted the glass to her lips again and Elizabeth took another greedy gulp.
"Here, you should take this potion."
Elizabeth glanced at the small vial being lifted to her lips. She hesitated briefly and then gulped it down. It tasted sour. Elizabeth clenched the sheets in her fist. She caught sight of them.
White as snow. As snow. It was cold again, and she was laying there among corpses. The sun was bright through overcast.
White. White. White, everywhere.
Elizabeth's ears rang.
"Where am I?" Her voice was scratchy and very quiet, but at least decipherable.
"You're in St. Mungo's Hospital. Don't worry, you're safe now. We're going to take care of you."
Take care.
"I died." She said simply.
The woman's face edged into concern. "I assure you, Aliena. You're perfectly alright now. You just need some good rest." She adjusted the pillows and fussed with the comforter and sheets.
Elizabeth didn't press the subject. She had died. Aliena had died. Elizabeth tried to recall her own last memory, not the strange "other" memories that plagued her mind.
She had been lying in bed at home, reading a book off her phone. It was very late at night. Her parents were asleep in the house. Her dogs were asleep as well. She remembered the way the moon had looked that night, shining through her open curtains.
Now, she turned her head to find that this hospital window held a different moon. Not a cloud in the sky. A new moon— totally black and lifeless.
"What day is it?" she asked. The woman took one of the silver devices from her waist and clicked it open. A pocket watch.
"Well, it's the first of January now. Happy new year, Aliena." She said warmly.
"What year?"
"1943."
"1943." Elizabeth echoed. 1943. "Am I dreaming?" She asked, a bit dazed.
The woman smiled. "No, this is not a dream. You've woken up."
Elizabeth hummed but did not quite believe her. But if she were dreaming, would she be able to smell that scent? Freshly laundered sheets and lemon. If she were dreaming, would she feel so sore and cold? Would she remember so clearly when she had woken up in that frozen hell?
If she were dreaming, would she recall those strange otherworldly memories that did not belong to her, but belonged to that girl whose body she occupied?
Aliena, she remembered. The girl's name is Aliena.
She looked down at her hands. They were different. Her fingers were slender and long and elegant. They creased differently on her palms. Her blue and green veins were much more visible and skin much paler.
"Come now," the nurse fussed. "Time for sleep."
Elizabeth allowed the woman to tuck her in.
"Can I use the restroom first?" She asked. As if just realizing it, Elizabeth found she was using a british accent. She'd never had an accent before. Her voice sounded strange and feathery light. Like a duchess.
"Of course, but you may be too weak. Let me help you." The woman said, opening up the sheets and helping her to move her feet over the edge of the bed.
Elizabeth's eyes snagged on those legs. Long and pale and utterly foreign. She stood, leaning most of her weight on the nurse and letting the older woman guide her to the corner where a bathroom door opened magically and the light turned on.
It was small, but had a bath, toilet, and sink. And mirror. "I can do it." Elizabeth said when the woman tried to undo the back of the gown.
"Aliena—," the woman started in protest, but Elizabeth took the sink and stood without her help. "I can." She said firmly. The nurse pursed her lips and took a long moment to step back and close the door behind her.
Finally, Elizabeth lifted her head and gazed into the mirror.
She really wasn't herself. This girl in the mirror was tall and slender. Gaunt in the face with dark scary circles around her eyes. Those eyes. A striking silver. Almost glowing.
She was much prettier, even while sickly, than Elizabeth ever was. Her hair was straw-like and thin but long and wavy. It was the color of starlight.
Elizabeth looked away as soon as she could. The memories of this girl- of Aleina- haunted at the back of her mind. She made her way to the toilet slowly and sat.
Eventually she was able to pee. After another long time she'd managed to lift her undergarments back up and tied the back of the hospital gown.
The nurse helped her back in bed, fussing and fretting. After putting Elizabeth back into place, she shut off the light and left the room. Elizabeth stared out the window.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
She screwed her eyes shut and pinched her arm.
She opened her eyes and sat up. Still, she was there.
It took several days for Aliena to realize she was not going to wake up from this dream. It took even longer to come to terms with the fact that she was in the world of Harry Potter. The same magical world that she had always dreamed of and longed for.
Why? Why was she here?
It seemed the healers and nurses thought her strange questions and actions were due to the trauma she had endured, which was a whole new can of worms Elizabeth suppressed in her mind.
On the third day, Dumbledore came to visit her.
When she saw him her mouth hung open. He looked different than he did in the movies or even how she'd imagined in the books. In fact, he was much handsomer than she thought. How old was he supposed to be? Elizabeth couldn't remember, though she did consider herself quite the fan. He was redheaded but greying. His hair was past his shoulders and his beard was full and greying as well. His eyes sparkled like sapphires behind a pair of delicate half moon spectacles. He wore a brightly colored robe with strange designs and a mustard yellow tunic underneath.
When he stood in the doorway, Elizabeth knew immediately who he was. Only this could be the great wizard from the stories.
"Good morning, Aliena. How are you feeling?" He asked.
Elizabeth shifted under that bright gaze. "G-Good morning," was all she could get out.
"May I take a seat?" He asked. She nodded stiffly and didn't quite know what to do with her hands. "It's lovely to meet you. Well, awake, that is," he said with a kind smile.
Something in Elizabeth unfurled. She liked to think she knew a lot about people, and who was good and bad. In the stories she'd read about him, he made horrible decisions. Endangered the lives of children. Raised Harry like a pig for slaughter.
But this man was not quite that same man. She knew he would do some bad things, in the future. But for now, he was good. And she needed him.
"They told me you found me outside the Leaky Cauldron." She said.
He nodded. "You gave me quite the fright. Apparated right where I was going to take a step."
"Really?" She asked, laughing softly. "I'm sorry."
"No no my dear girl. You were very lucky. And smart. You got here just in time."
Elizabeth nodded, looking at her fingers briefly before meeting his gaze again.
"I'm glad you are okay. Making quite the recovery." He added. His gentle smile never faded and he continued. "I've brought you some chocolates. They're quite good for the soul." He said, taking a bundle of sweets out of his robes and handing them to her. She took them and opened up the package right away.
"Would you like one?" She offered before popping one in her mouth. It melted instantly and sent warmth flooding through her. It brought a smile to her lips without her thinking, which felt strange. She realized that she hadn't remembered the last time she'd smiled.
"No, thank you. I've had some of my own. Ate the whole package in one go." He said happily patting his stomach.
Elizabeth nodded and ate another. "They're very good," she commented after she swallowed.
He beamed at her. "Aren't they?" Elizabeth waited but didn't quite realize what she was waiting for. Thankfully, he spoke. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. It's lovely to meet you. You've been through much. It takes great strength, you know."
Elizabeth turned her face to the window and then back to him. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. But I'm afraid I haven't been through much at all."
Something indistinguishable flashed in his expression, but it was gone too quickly to decipher. He said, "Haven't been through much? My dear girl I believe you do not know what much is." He sounded concerned, which startled Elizabeth.
"It is like—… Well it is like that wasn't me at all. I believe it must be because of my condition."
A moment of silence.
"Of course. Though it is important, Aliena, that you do not forget that it was you who endured what you did."
"Yes. I suppose it was me. In some ways." Elizabeth commented, and it was true. She retained many memories from the girl whose body she now occupied. While they were distant, as if she were watching a movie from somewhere else, they retained the feeling and potency that any memory would.
"I must give you my condolences. I am—… I am deeply sorry for what happened to your family. To your home. And to you."
She could hear the emotion in his voice, and wondered if Dumbledore had cried for her. For the story which everyone seemed to now know. Elizabeth let these words sink in. Absorbed them well. Though, she didn't quite know what to do or say with other's condolences. What do you say to someone who is sorry? Of course, Elizabeth realized, he must be blaming himself for much of the losses of this war. Grieving those who were hurt or killed at the hand of someone who he had loved. Maybe even still loved.
"Thank you." was all she could say back, and then found the words. "War is cruel. But I.... do not hate them."
Dumbledore looked at her in shock. "Who?"
"The men who did this to me. Who killed my family and took my home. Who tortured and starved me. I-…," Elizabeth said. She paused. Could she forgive them? Did she have the right? Would Aliena want her to? She remembered deeply the last thoughts of that girl.
The way that in her final moments, Aliena was glad. She was happy to be with her family again. She was happy it was over.
Aleina was no longer here. Just Elizabeth. "I do not resent those who are cruel and evil. They know not what they do." Elizabeth remembered the words of Jesus in his final moments on the cross. How he begged God to forgive those who crucified him. She thought of how Elizabeth could grant this similar forgiveness, even now. It meant nothing, anyhow.
"Grindelwald fights for something. I suppose it is power. Maybe something more. He is a broken man. I can only hope he finds peace and love eventually. One day this war will end. I do not wish what happened to me on anyone-- not even him."
There was a great stretch of heavy silence now. Elizabeth wondered if she had said something bad. But when she saw the look on Dumbledore's face as he stared at the floor with his head bowed, she knew she had said something he perhaps needed to hear.
"You are very wise," Dumbledore finally said. His voice sounded shaky. She knew that she had indeed struck a nerve. "There are many in this world who fight hate with revenge. I can see you are not one of them. Love.. truly does conquer all… in the end."
Elizabeth wondered why he came here. Was it a sense of duty? Of pity? Or perhaps a warped sense of responsibility.
Maybe it was all three. Elizabeth didn't want any of it. But it wasn't all about her, was it?
"I actually came with something else, Aliena." he said, finally meeting her gaze. Whatever tears that had rimmed his eyes were gone now as he retrieved something else from his pocket and handed it to her. A thick cream envelope with red wax seal. She read the front.
'Miss A. Greengrass,
Room 7
4th Floor
St. Mungo's Hospital For Magical Maladies and Injuries
Guildford'
On Elizabeth's eleventh birthday, her parents had made a fake Hogwarts letter. The little invitations she handed out in school had been similar. The birthday party was Harry Potter themed. The cupcakes were shaped like little cauldrons and the cake looked like the smashed one from the first movie. She'd received a fake time turner, a full CD set of the audiobooks, a stuffed Hedwig, among other themed gifts. She remembered the way her heart fluttered when she ripped open the letter and read the contents on that day. How she'd squealed with delight and hung it on her wall.
Now, she was fifteen, in a hospital room in a foreign land while a character from her favorite childhood books handed her a ticket to everything she had ever dreamed of. It felt wrong to be happy. It felt wrong.
Her family and friends weren't here. They were so so far away in a different world. A world without magic where she dreaded high school and dreamed of far off magical worlds.
Elizabeth laughed. The sound was so distant and strange that for a moment she didn't even realize it came from her mouth.
"You want me to come to Hogwarts?" She asked.
He nodded. "It's the safest place in all of Europe. You would find a home there. Make a new life for yourself, and find hopes for a better future. Did you know…." he started slowly, "you apparated 1,200 miles without a wand? And at fifteen years old no less. This sort of magic is... improbable."
Elizabeth shifted, uncomfortable. She hadn't thought of that. She hadn't thought at all, actually.
"Such a miracle cannot be overlooked. The Ministry of Magic sees it as a great feat of accidental magic during duress. In fact, I have many scholars breathing down my neck about ensuring you attend this coming fall. Even the Minister for Magic himself."
Elizabeth thought for a moment, and then smiled at him. It wasn't the smile of a bright child with their future ahead of them. It was one tainted by the horrors of war and pain beyond measure. A child who pretended forgiveness meant something, when deep down she knew that it ultimately meant nothing at all.
Dumbledore thought for a moment that maybe that attempt at a smile was a miracle in itself, of a different sort.
"I do hope you consider the offer," he said.
Aliena's eyes widened like two glowing full moons.
"Yes. Of course I'd love to go to Hogwarts."
The fourth floor of St. Mungo's was strange.
When Elizabeth had finally been able to walk down the hall, she found why she had been bombarded with magical and psychological evaluations everyday.
She was staying in a loony bin.
When she returned to her room she opened the window and listened to the sounds of the city. Distantly she could hear music but couldn't identify the tune. She hummed along, wishing more than anything that she at least had music to console her.
She could tell from her interactions with the healers they thought she had a screw loose. Morbidly, to herself, she supposed she did. Maybe somewhere in her world she was laying in a hospital bed deluding herself into thinking she was in 1943 'Harry Potter land'. Maybe her parents spoke to a soulless statue praying their little girl would come back to them.
She cried about this thought so much that she had grown numb to it. Two weeks of being treated like a madwoman, and maybe she was really becoming mad.
Her door creaked open. "Aliena? You have a visitor."
She turned to the door.
Standing in the threshold was a woman Aliena didn't recognize. Or at least, recognize to be alive.
The last time she'd seen the woman she had been bloated and green and laying in the snow face down.
Elizabeth stumbled back, clutching the windowsill to keep herself from falling out of it. The window slammed shut and locked, the attending nurse acting quickly.
"What have I told you about opening the window?! I'm sure I locked that with a spell." She muttered the last part.
"Get out." Elizabeth said, heart hammering in her chest.
Sure, she had been playing with the idea of going truly crazy but 'I see dead people' was not on her agenda of things she would indulge.
The nurse stepped forward. "Aliena, this is your Aunt Belphia. She has come to pay you a visit."
"She-," Elizabeth started, covering her mouth with her hand. Her aunt. Yes, of course. This couldn't be Aliena's mother. Aliena's mother was dead.
Her aunt.
Yes, this was her aunt. Now that she looked at the woman properly she was clearly not as warm as the memory of Aliena's mother was. She would have looked exactly identical were it not for the frown lines that etched the sides of the woman's mouth. Were it not for the dismal black robe ensemble that was all too gloomy, tasteful, and wealthy to be anything that Aliena's mother would wear.
Elizabeth's eyes roved up and down the woman over and over and over as if reminding herself. This was her aunt. Aunt Belphia.
She wracked her brain. Distant memories surfaced. Like watching a movie in her mind.
'"You do have an Aunt. My twin sister. We're identical."
"Identical?" Child Aliena asked her mother as she sat on her lap, playing with her hair. "Exactly alike. At least, we look exactly alike. In truth, Belphia isn't like me at all. In every other way we are opposites."
"Opposites?" Aliena had asked.
"Yes. Like how light is the opposite of dark. Two things that are totally unalike."
"Are you dark or light mommy?" Aliena asked. Her mother smiled endearingly, petting her head.
"I don't know. Sometimes I am light and sometimes she is dark. Sometimes I am dark and she is light."
"That's silly."
Aliena's mother laughed. A beautiful joyous sound unlike any other.
"Yes, mommy is very silly." she said, tickling Aliena, who shrieked and struggled to break free from her grasp. Her mother blew a raspberry into Aliena's cheek, who giggled fiercely in return.'
"I'm sorry, Aliena. This is why I have been delaying my visit." Aunt Belphia said remorsefully. Well, it would be remorseful if she sounded the least bit sorry. Her expression was cold and distant. Even her prim posture was immovable. "I know this must be quite a shock." She finally added.
Elizabeth stood from the window seat.
Aliena was almost as tall as her. She sat back down again when a sudden wave of lightheadedness hit her.
"I told them to warn you of my visit." Aunt Belphia said, shooting a scathing look to the nurse, who flushed and bowed her head.
"I'll leave you to get acquainted with one another." The nurse said, making her great cowardly escape and shutting the door behind her.
Aunt Belphia sighed and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and shook her head before composing herself.
Elizabeth wanted to speak first. She had to speak first. "Aunt Belphia." Was all she knew to say.
The woman apprased her. "Aliena. I regret to say I did not know of your existence until recent events. My sister—," she cut herself off as something dark overtook her features. "My sister and I were not on speaking terms."
Elizabeth watched the woman school her features expertly. But she noticed the pain in her eyes. If she had blinked then she would have missed it.
"You're welcome to sit," Elizabeth said. She didn't know what to say. What should she say? This woman had lost her twin sister and gained a niece she didn't know existed. She had also lost another niece she didn't know existed. What of Aliena's little sister? Of her father?
Aunt Belphia nodded and levitated the armchair that was always perched in Elizabeth's rooms for when Dumbledore visited, which he had taken to doing three more times after their initial meeting. She placed it closer to Elizabeth- but not too close- and then sat with all the grace of a noble lady of high rank.
Elizabeth remembered what she had first thought of Aliena's voice when she spoke. She thought she'd sounded like a duchess. Well, if Aliena was a duchess then this woman was an empress.
"I apologize for my rudeness. I did not realize—... that you would look so similar." Elizabeth said.
"It is perfectly understandable… Aliena."
Elizabeth watched as the woman stumbled over her name and then continued. "The imbeciles that run this floor are to blame, not you."
"It is strange to have an Aunt, when I never have before." Elizabeth commented. And it was true, even in her past life she hadn't had one aunt. Just one uncle who was hopelessly single well into his forties.
"Yes, I could say the same. You… look very much like your mother." Belphia said.
Elizabeth laughed shortly at the irony.
A ghost of a smile tugged at Aunt Belphia's mouth. "Of course, you have your father's eyes." She added. Elizabeth nodded. She had very similar features to her mother and aunt, but her eyes were the bright silver that were Aliena's father's rather than the electric blue of Aunt Belphia.
She tried to swallow that memory of those silver eyes of Aliena's father staring blankly at her, as she often found them in her nightmares.
"Did you know my father?" Elizabeth asked, feeling strange talking like they were her parents. Though, in a sense, they were.
"I met him only once. He was older, and whisked your mother away on a white horse shortly after. I told her it was stupid, and dangerous. But she was young and in love—," she said, but Elizabeth cut her off.
"Well it's lucky, I suppose. That his intentions were true. My mother and him remained in love until the day they died." This silenced her aunt but Elizabeth let the woman think.
"Yes. Yes I suppose. She was very lucky. And very selfish as well."
"Selfish?" Elizabeth asked, not allowing this woman's very obvious scorn to waver her.
"She left us behind without a second glance. My father- your grandfather- told her she would be wiped from the family were she to do it. Completely cut off in every way. And she did it anyway."
Elizabeth sensed a deep bitterness to this memory. She could imagine it in her mind's eye. A young pureblooded girl whisked away.
"Why did my grandfather not approve, if I may ask? My father was a pureblood." This fact was both true and nagging at the back of Elizabeth's mind. She had tried to piece together the faint puzzle from Aliena's memories but never quite deciphered why Aliena's mother was cut off from her family.
"He was… She had been previously engaged to a suitor of my father's choosing. She abandoned him for your father."
"Oh. Did you—?" Elizabeth didn't have to ask the question. It was obvious.
"I was also engaged to a man of my father's choosing. And yes, I married him. He's a lovely man and father."
This conversation was quite heavy for their first meeting, but Elizabeth could tell this sort of woman did not care to beat around the bush.
"Did you never try to… contact her?" Elizabeth dared to ask.
"No." She said simply. "My father and I warned her of the consequences of her actions. She chose that man over her family."
She sounded bitter. Elizabeth may have taken these things personally if it really were her family, or if she couldn't see the deep-etched hurt on this woman's heart.
"I'm sorry she abandoned you."
Aunt Belphia didn't seem to be expecting this, and she almost recoiled. "It is… not your fault, Aliena. Your mother made a grave mistake. And it got her killed. I— I don't know if I'll ever forgive her for that. But you are here now, and you have the chance to redeem her."
Elizabeth chose to ignore the tactless slight about bringing up Aliena's family's murder. Or perhaps it was not tactless at all, but a purposeful jab. She was angry. Angry at her sister and was taking it out on Elizabeth.
Elizabeth could work with that. "Anything I do cannot redeem my mother's past. Surely you know that."
"… Yes. Yes you're right. You're right." Aunt Belphia was silent for a long moment and watched the window. Elizabeth turned her head and watched it with her, giving her this time to herself. Minutes passed, and Elizabeth was beginning to think she should say something. Aunt Belphia dashed this thought when she spoke again.
"Despite everything… I thought Mora hated me. Hated our family. And yet…," she said. Mora? Oh. Aliena's mother's name was Baymora. A nickname. How strange. Elizabeth met the woman's solemn gaze.
"She made me your godmother. Did you know?" Aunt Belphia asked. Elizabeth shook her head. Her aunt laughed dryly. "No, neither did I. I didn't even know I had a goddaughter until my sister died and left you to me. She's always been cruel."
Elizabeth didn't speak for a long moment, and then decided to finally break the silence.
"When my younger sister was born... I cried for a week," Elizabeth started, recalling Aliena's memories.
"I thought mother would stop loving me. One night, she came into my room and held me in her arms and told me a story. She told me she was happy that the baby was a girl. That there is nothing in the world quite like having a sister. She told me-- no matter what that I would have a best friend by my side, forever. That no matter how much we may argue, we would both know that deep down we would love each other more than any other person in the world."
A tear fell from Elizabeth's eye. She didn't even realize she had been on the verge of crying, and touched the tear away in surprise. Perhaps it was Aliena somewhere inside of her, deep down. She swallowed the lump in her throat and continued.
"I lost my sister. My best friend. I-… I know you know what that's like."
When a tear fell from Belphia's eye, she didn't wipe it away as Elizabeth had. She held her gaze and smiled. It was a strained, broken sort of smile. "My sister is so cruel. Even beyond the grave she sends me someone so similar to her it's uncanny."
Elizabeth laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks and blurring her vision. "I could say the same about you. I don't think I'll ever forget the shock of seeing you walk through the door."
They spoke for a long time after that. And they sat in silence for much time as well.
This woman- her aunt- was hurting. Hurting in the same way Elizabeth hurt. And it felt a bit better, having someone else to hurt with.
Toward the end, Aunt Belphia said, "Once you are discharged, I expect you will stay with me?" It was a statement, a command, and a request all in one.
Elizabeth smiled endearingly. "Of course, Aunt Belphia. I'm excited to see where you live."
A knock at the door. "Excuse me Mrs. Malfoy? Visiting hours have ended."
Elizabeth jolted at the title.
"It was lovely to meet you, Aliena. I'll be sure to visit soon." She left with all the grace of an empress.
"Malfoy?" Elizabeth whispered as soon as the door shut.
Fuck.