Author's Note: Welcome to this story! There isn't too much to tell in advance; the story will unfold and 'tell itself' , so to speak. Just a tiny note that this story belongs in the line of my other stories (Heart's Betrayal, Behind Closed Doors, Full Circle) in this line. Which means I took a tiny few liberties with the timeline. I postponed the final Battle of Hogwarts 3 years, this had to do with Harry's age and required maturity, and so on. Alas, for now I believe that is enough info beforehand to keep in mind :) Enjoy reading, don't forget to click the 'review' button :D

Tabula Rasa

I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.
-Lewis Carroll: Alice in Wonderland

London, 15th of July 2010

Dear Professor McGonagall,

First of all I would like to thank you for your dedication to reach prospective students. I have received all six of your letters. While I understand that in your position as Headmistress of Hogwarts you want to reach every student with magical ability, I regret to inform you that neither of my children will be attending Hogwarts.
As you may know I have long since turned my back on the Wizarding World. Not only does it hold many painful memories I wish to leave alone, it also reminds me of my own time at Beauxbatons: a place where the free will of students is formed to fit that of the grand mass in a way that has made me very unhappy at the time.
Through the years I have managed to build a life for me and my children in which we are all three of us very happy: I have every intention of keeping it that way. I hope you can understand my reasoning behind this decision.

Sincerely,

Isabelle Harris

Anyone with the slightest inkling of how magic worked, knew that a Hogwarts letter always reached its destination. She tried to at first, but one ignored letter brought another, and then two more twice within a few days time. The message was clear: a reply was demanded. And so Isabelle wrote a reply. It felt strangely familiar to tie a letter to an owl. Such a simple gesture brought along so many memories.

It was over eleven years ago Isabelle had left the Wizarding World behind. The Order of the Phoenix had provided her with a new identity. A new identity she made her own, and by now it was her only identity. As she lived her life day after day, it was almost as if that other world ceased to exist. Like none of it had ever been real. Only it was, and she could never truly deny that. Her son and daughter were the living reminders of how magic existed, and how it worked its ways most unexpectedly. Every day Stella and Sebastian's unruly, black curls and dark eyes reminded her of their father. Their fiery tempers were a souvenir of his too, undoubtedly. And now there was the Hogwarts letter.

She had known it was coming. The first signs of magic in the twins presented themselves early on. They were hardly two years old when Isabelle lost them in the park. They were like that; quick as water. She had only glanced away for a second, giving out directions to a lost stranger, when they disappeared. Isabelle had found them on the swings nearby, swinging higher than two year-olds should. She had been too far away to reach them, and when they both let go of the swing and jumped off, it was as if her heart had stopped for a moment. Much grander was her surprise when they made a very soft landing. Unnaturally soft. She had known, since then. No matter how hard she tried to deny it and leave that other world behind, she had known deep down she would never be able to. She had successfully ignored it for a while, until the letters started coming.

Professor McGonagall had replied to her letter within that same week. Her reply was polite, yet persistent. She had suggested a meeting in the Leaky Cauldron. Somehow, Isabelle had agreed. If she wouldn't, she knew more letters would follow. Or other ways to get in touch with her children. If this was what it would take, then she would go and explain her motives once more.

Diagon Alley. She had no trouble finding it. It seemed like yesterday it was a regular thing to tap the right brick in the courtyard with her wand- the wand she had always kept. For emergencies. Diagon Alley looked just like she remembered. And she immediately felt ill at ease in the crowd. Her red trench coat stood out against the many black-cloaked witches and wizards that passed her. Wizard fashion was still very dated, apparently.

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded mainly with families taking up a lot of room. They were probably shopping for the new school year. With a pang of guilt Isabelle suspected her children would be overjoyed with all the magical shops. But so far they didn't know what they were missing, and as far as she was concerned it would remain that way.

"Evangeline?"

She turned around automatically. And then to think she thought she had forgotten all about her old name, and her old life.

"Charlie Weasley?"

Of course. She recognised him immediately, even if he had aged visibly. He could easily be forty now, but he still had that boyish grin she remembered quite well.

"It's Isabelle now," she corrected him.

"Of course. We invented that name together," he grinned and showed her the way to an empty table by the window. "What can I get you to drink?"

"I was under the impression I'd meet Minerva McGonagall here."

"Ah, yes. Should have notified you," Charlie nodded. "She's very busy, being the Headmistress and all. There was an emergency at the school this morning with Peeves, he set fire in the hospital wing. Small fire only; he claims it was an accident. Poppy was all upset, naturally, and it has to be fixed before the new school year starts. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," Isabelle replied, wondering who on earth were 'Peeves' and 'Poppy'. "And you know all this because...?"

"I teach now. Care of Magical Creatures. A year or two ago I got a pretty nasty injury from a Horntail," Charlie rolled up his sleeve, showing off some rather impressive scars. "I was looking for something to do while I recovered, and Hagrid retired at the time. One year only, I said. Still here now, though," he chuckled. "Might stick around for a while longer. How about that drink?"

"Do they still have Butterbeer?" Isabelle inquired, sitting down with a small sigh. It was hard to believe she was here now, after all these years. And no one particularly glanced her way. They must be accustomed to having muggles here; there were many muggleborn students, after all.

"Of course. Coming right up."

While Charlie disappeared into the crowd, Isabelle took the time to glance out the window. There was a shop selling brooms across the street. Once more she could not help but wonder how Sebastian would enjoy Quidditch. Or how Stella's eyes would light up at the sight of a real unicorn. This world held many good things. Magic could be a wonderful thing. It could be enchanting. Outsiders with a romantic view could easily picture this small street full of ancient, magical shops to belong in a fairy tale. She had grown up being accustomed to wands and Quidditch and cauldrons. She had enjoyed coming here as a child; staring for hours at moving toys, colourful potions and leather-bound books. And yet years later she had been so eager to turn her back on everything that defined this world. She had never looked back. Until now, when she was made to.

"I believe we should get down to business now," Isabelle said once Charlie returned with two Butterbeers.

"Your children," Charlie nodded, sitting down on the opposite side of the table.

"Yes, my children. And the continuing frequency of Hogwarts letters being sent our way. I've replied to McGonagall quite clearly: Stella and Sebastian will not be attending. Not this year, nor any year. I have my reasons."

"All right," Charlie leaned back. He seemed so casual. Much more than Isabelle; whose agitation was rising by the minute. "Summarize them for me," he suggested.

"I left this world behind."

"Yes. Your world. But this could be their world. Voldemort is dead, Isabelle. He's been dead for over a decade."

Her face fell at the mention of that name. She had heard, of course. They had sent her a message, just when she was adapting to her new life. It had cost her so much energy to start anew, and just when she was building something up she would have to leave it? She had had her reasons not to. She liked the clean slate. It saved her a lot of questions.

"Your children have powers," Charlie continued. "Unchanelled magic that has to be controlled. They deserve to know where they belong."

"They belong with me," Isabelle replied quickly, snappier than she had intended to sound.

"Of course, and that wouldn't change. But they're eleven: that's not too young to have a say in this. "

Isabelle knew very well what they would say. Once they would get over the shock, they would undoubtedly consider a magical world to be 'cool' or whatever fashionable synonyms they used. Hogwarts would be one big adventure to them. And then the questions would follow. They weren't stupid; they would want to know why she had kept that world a secret to them, while she had grown up there herself. And then they would ask about their father.

"They wouldn't know what would await them. I hated school." She was running out of excuses.

"Many kids do. Muggle kids, too, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's not what I mean. I remember the teachers at Beauxbatons as a narrow-minded bunch. You could like what they liked, or be a misfit."

"Hogwarts is not Beauxbatons. I dare say Minerva would be offended at such a comparison." Charlie's eyes twinkled with humour, and part of Isabelle wanted to laugh with him. If only this weren't so serious. It had taken her a long time to stand where she stood now.

"Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang. Isn't it all the same?"

"I dare say it's not. And even so; Hogwarts hasn't stood still in the past few years. We go along with present times, although a certain traditional charm will always be maintained, I'm sure."

"I've made my point. I gave you a chance to change my mind, but I didn't." She stood up and reached for her handbag. Her heels sounded hollow on the wooden floorboards, but all she wanted was to leave this place behind and forget she ever returned.

"Wait, Evangeline!" He caught up with her just before the exit. "One last question."

She had to admit his effort was impressive. And sweet, although that depended on how much extra he was paid for this appointment. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she nodded.

"Do you carry a picture?"

"Of course." Her face softened somewhat; her pride of the children was bigger than any other emotion, and she never withheld from an occasion to show off her beautiful pair. She reached inside her bag and took out her purse, which held several snapshots of the twins. She took one out and handed it to Charlie.

"They seem like wonderful kids."

"They are," she beamed.

"If I may say so, the resemblance is striking."

Nonplussed, she held onto the back of a chair for some support. It had always been a challenge to pretend the twins looked like herself mainly. And where she lived now, no one knew their father. It had been easier that way.

"Oh?" she said quietly.

"Yes," Charlie nodded. "And I think Sirius would have been very proud of them."

They were blocking the exit: many people on their way out glanced their way. Isabelle hardly noticed it. All she noticed was how solid ground appeared to have pulled out from under her feet. She was lucky the chair she clung to was empty, and she sank down on it before she could really embarrass herself.

"When did you find out?" she whispered.

"I suspected for a while, but your picture confirmed it." Charlie sat down by her again, handing back the picture. "They deserve to know their heritage, Isabelle."

"I know," she whispered. All the energy she had put into her defense was gone, and she knew he was right. Like she had known he was right from the beginning.

She allowed Charlie to get her another Butterbeer, and she was glad for it. The warm drink helped her get over the shock, and brought her back to the present. Still, she hardly heard anything of the cheerful chatter Charlie attempted to put up. She was glad when it was time to leave; all she wanted was to get home and hug the twins as tight as she could.

"I should head back and see if Minerva's got it all under control at Hogwarts," Charlie grinned, extending a hand to her. "I'll see you and the kids at King's Cross, then? First of September."

"We'll be there," Isabelle sighed, and shook his hand. A small smile was all she managed.

When she arrived home at last and was greeted by the loud volume of the TV, she felt everything had changed in the past two hours. Like she was not who she was before, and the twins were not the ordinary muggle children she had raised them to be.

"Stella? Seb?" she tossed her bag carelessly into the corner and entered the living room. They sat together on the sofa, staring at a cartoon on TV. The coffee table showed empty tins of soda and wraps of half-eaten candy bars. They looked up endearingly guilty.

"Hey mum, " they said, mouths full of candy.

"Where's Mrs Sanchez?" Isabelle frowned.

"Her daughter called to say she was in labour," Stella replied when she had swallowed the candy. "But mum, chill. We're almost twelve, we can handle being on our own for five minutes."

To their surprise, Isabelle smiled and squeezed herself in between them on the sofa, kissing the top of first Stella's head, and then Sebastian's.

"Mum's gone mad," Sebastian announced.

"She might have," Isabelle agreed, wrapping her arms around them until they cuddled up to her on either side.

"Does this mean we can have pizza for dinner?"

They felt so warm against her, just like they had when they were helpless little babies. It still felt so right to hold them to her. She couldn't imagine she would send them off to boarding school within a few weeks time.

"We can," she nodded, not up to refusing them anything. "But let's turn off the TV first." She let go of Stella for a moment to reach for the remote, and end the loud and annoying cartoon.

"Why?" they both pouted.

"Because," Isabelle said. She watched them intently, first one and then the other. Charlie was right. They looked so much like him. It had been painful at first, but a great comfort later on. It was, as if she had kept him with her through the twins. And now it hurt so much, to send them far away from home. If they wanted to. But she knew they would want to.

She reached out to stroke their curls. Their dark, unruly, but oh so beautiful curls. "I've got something very important to tell you."