Chapter 24: The Disappearance

Waking up in a hospital bed was becoming a routine affair for Marina. Her body seemed to fade back into reality like she was being slowly lifted from a deep sea of unconsciousness, her thoughts going first and foremost to the horrible dryness in her mouth and her gritty, sleep-stuck eyes.

Immediately, something was noticeably different. There was a sound that was both familiar and out of place – the even beeping of a heart monitor. St Mungo's definitely didn't use heart monitors.

Someone was talking, she could hear them over the sounds of her heart beeping away despite everything. She tried to pry her eyes open but they wouldn't cooperate, and it only took a second to realise that they had been taped down like she'd seen on videos of people coming out of surgeries after being put under anaesthesia.

The voices swelled to a crest, then all of a sudden there was a flash of bright light and whoever had been talking fell silent. A second later there was a stinging pain in her hand and her throat felt funny, and then her stomach twisted with a swooping, sinking feeling that she could recognise anywhere – she was being Apparated. She tried desperately to cling to consciousness as she felt herself fading but it was too late, and she sunk beneath the waves again.

Although she couldn't tell for sure, it felt like a long time until Marina woke again. There was no beeping this time, no reassurance from that steady, tenacious heartbeat – but there were more voices. Slowly the dull deafness in her ears began to lift and soon she could make out what they were saying.

"… in a Muggle hospital, they had no idea what to do with her of course, had all of these ghastly tubes in her...

"And Healer Harpis found her?"

"Yes, on one of her inspections. More and more magical ailments ending up in Muggle hospitals these days, you know, considering…"

"No wand?"

"None."

"Can't have been… them… could it?"

"I don't see how a group of thugs could have given someone such a serious case of time sickness."

Marina stirred, and the voices immediately ceased their conversation.

"Rennervate!" one of them said.

With a soft swell of red light, alertness coursed through Marina and she gasped as her eyes flew open. Two Healers were on either side of her bed, both in their lime-green robes and wands in hand. The first of them – an older woman with deep brown skin and a serious face, her greying hair in a circular braid on her head – turned Marina's face towards her and pointed her wand at her eyes.

"I know you must be confused," the Healer said, "but I need you to stay still, do you understand?"

Marina nodded, still breathing heavily. It felt strange, raggedy and wheezing like the time she'd had bronchitis.

The Healer began muttering incantations and watching Marina's eyes very closely. Her accomplice, a middle-aged man with pitch black hair and a handsome face had produced a glass of familiar looking liquid – the same silvery green liquid with little purple bubbles that Madam Pomfrey had given her all those months ago. As he held it to her lips, Marina drank it without question. The acrid taste washed through her mouth and she instantly felt tingles spreading through her body, congregating at her fingers and feet like she'd had a numbness that was beginning to dissipate.

"My name is Healer Jin," he said as he helped her drink, "this is Healer Buckthorn," he nodded towards the older woman who still had her wand pointed between Marina's eyes in deep concentration. "You're at St Mungo's Hospital, we're here to help you," he gave a small smile and Marina reflexively smiled back. He had a very calming presence. He tilted the glass again and Marina obediently took another gulp of the horrible tasting potion, pushing back a grimace.

"Can you tell me your name?" Healer Jin asked as he took away the glass.

Marina tried to answer but her throat felt strange, like the air wouldn't grip on her voice box and no sound would come out. She tried again, but all that came out was a croaking noise.

Healer Jin poised his own wand over her throat and muttered, "Epistrofi Fonis."

Coolness spread across Marina's throat like she'd swallowed very icy water and she coughed at the sensation. "Marina," she whispered weakly.

"Where's your wand, Marina?" Healer Jin frowned.

"I don't have one," she croaked, "I'm a Muggle."

The two Healers shared a glance as Marina slowly pushing herself up onto her forearms.

For the first time, she was able to properly see her surroundings. It was unlike any ward in St Mungo's that she'd seen before. The most immediate difference was the crowding – the ward was absolutely packed. Beds were pushed as close to each other as they could go, but it was still insufficient to accommodate everyone. Patients were sitting in chairs, milling in the corners of the room, even lying on the floor on thin blankets. Healers were rushing through the hoards looking haggard and overworked, their eyes frantic and their mouths set in hard, resolute lines.

The second difference was the room itself. The room had no windows, only dim yellow lanterns hanging from wooden beams on the low ceiling. Periodic showers of dust came from the ceiling as if there was heavy foot traffic on the floor above.

Marina swallowed hard. Something was very wrong.

"Is there someone we can contact for you? A family member, perhaps?" asked Healer Jin with his reassuring smile.

Instead of making her feel better, it just made her suspicious as to why she needed reassuring. "I – I suppose Dumbledore." Marina frowned.

The Healers shared another look.

"The Hogwarts Headmaster?" asked Healer Buckthorn slowly.

"Yeah," said Marina distractedly, watching a Healer levitate a limp, bruised man past her bed.

"Can you tell me what year it is, Marina?" said Healer Buckthorn in a curious voice.

"Last time I checked, it was 1991," said Marina, looking back at her as the limp man disappeared into the crowded ward.

The two Healers were silent for a long, unsettling moment.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Albus Dumbledore is dead," Healer Buckthorn said quietly.

Marina's mind went still.

"What year is it?" she whispered.

"It's 1997," Healer Jin said gently. "You've been gone six years."

Healer Buckhorn leaned over her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Try not to panic, we can explain every –"

"The war," Marina breathed. She looked up into Healer Buckthorn's concerned, dark eyes. "The war, did it happen?"

But she already knew the answer. The ward around her was proof enough.

"Yes," the Healer said, frowning. "How did you –"

But Marina had stopped listening. Despair coiled around her and consumed her every thought. She tried to comprehend it, the amount of time she'd lost. Dumbledore's words from the previous day came back to her – though with a heavy sinking feeling, she realised that they had been spoken more than half a decade ago now. He had said that this world was a train on its tracks, and all she'd done was switch the tracks. Was this the destination? Did all tracks lead to the war? How much had she really changed?

The questions started flooding in thick and fast. Had it all been for nothing? What could have possibly happened whilst she'd been gone? What had happened when Riddle had arrived back with Dumbledore with her blood on his hands and the Horcrux still in his pocket? Had it all been undone in that moment, or had the following months degraded their relationship without her persistent insistence that they try to trust each other?

The thought of Riddle's secret wand returned, and Marina felt like she was falling. Had he taken his first chance to escape back to Voldemort?

Distantly she was aware that the Healers were trying to talk to her, but she was numb to their efforts. Something deep inside her had fractured and her hope was leaking out, spilling into places she couldn't see and dribbling away as she lay there staring at the war-torn ward.

A gruelling week passed. Marina felt removed from the havoc of the ward, its ever shifting and constantly tense atmosphere hung on her like a thick fog and she was blind inside of it. New patients came in an endless stream and very few seemed to leave fully recovered.

On her second day, Healer Jin told her that when the war had broken out, the Healers at St Mungo's had quickly realised that their hospital was not immune to Voldemort's reach. Death Eaters and Snatchers prowled the corridors of the hospital, hunting for those who they considered unworthy of magical medicine. Determined to treat all who needed help, the Healers had charmed an old hospital basement into a ward for Muggle-borns and 'blood traitors,' as well as Muggles like Marina who had gotten caught up in the wrong side of the war. The Healers smuggled in patients, worked extra shifts in secret to provide them with care, and scoured Muggle hospitals for those who had ended up there with magical maladies.

Healer Jin had vanished that night. When Marina had asked Healer Buckthorn about him the next morning, her eyes had gone tight and her lips went thin.

"They took him," was all she would say.

There was nothing more that Marina could get out of her.

The other Healers had continued to try to contact someone for Marina, but she had been unable to provide a name that didn't explicitly appear on the list of people most suspected by the Ministry of Magic to be aiding the fugitive Harry Potter. The truth was that Marina didn't have anybody – if things had gone as they had in the books, Moody was already dead, Remus was on the run, McGonagall was under the eye of the Carrows at Hogwarts, and the Weasleys were on a Ministry watchlist. And Riddle… Marina couldn't even begin to consider where Riddle could be.

Grief overcame her. Dumbledore was dead and the Second Wizarding War raged on around them as if she'd never tried to stop it at all. The days passed in long, faded hours, completely indistinguishable from each other. Her hazed stupor was only broken one night by Healer Buckthorn's sudden arrival, her illuminated wand breaking the muggy darkness of the crowded, sleeping ward.

"Marina," she said in an urgent whisper. "You must get up, someone is here to take you."

"Who?" Marina asked dully. Her eyes strained against the wand light, but she felt nothing else. The numbness that had engulfed her was thick and impenetrable.

"You mentioned the Weasleys when you first arrived," said Healer Buckthorn, hastily helping her sit up and coaxing her as quickly and as gently as she could. Now was clearly not the time for explanations.

Expressionless, Marina nodded and stood on shaky legs. She allowed Healer Buckthorn to guide her past the long rows of sleeping patients, stepping over those who rested on the floor and trying – with only partial success – to avoid bumping into anyone.

They exited the ward and climbed a narrow set of stairs to a long hallway. Healer Buckthorn led her as quickly as she could to its far end where a simple floor-length mirror with an unremarkable wooden frame was hanging on the wooden panelled wall. Lit by the Healer's wand, Marina saw her own reflection for the first time since she'd arrived in 1997.

She barely recognised herself. Her hair was limp and tangled, her face gaunt and her eyes with deep shadows like black bruises beneath them. She had lost weight in a sickly, frightening sort of way, and dark purple stains swallowed her forearms and a good portion of her lower legs as well. The worst was her eyes. Hollow and flat, it was as if everything that made Marina herself had been carved out from within and her eyes revealed the blankness that had been left behind.

Healer Buckthorn approached the mirror without slowing down. Marina passively allowed herself to be guided towards it, and at the last second, they easily stepped through the glass and out into the familiar entrance chamber of St Mungo's. Marina glanced behind them to see herself in an identical mirror hanging unobtrusively on the wall, hiding in plain sight.

"Buckthorn," a low voice whispered. There was a figure waiting impatiently by the door to the hospital, staying out of the way of the scant few Healers in the chamber making their way to the various wards and duties.

"We're here," Healer Buckthorn replied lowly, hurrying towards the figure.

"Finally," said the man, sounding exhausted. "I've had to hide from two Snatcher patrols already."

The light from Healer Buckthorn's wand fell upon a man with a shock of red hair that was ever so slightly greying, and a kind but tense face.

"My apologies, Weasley," the Healer whispered, looking around the chamber nervously. "I've got to get back, do you have it from here?"

"Yes, I'm sure we'll manage," said Arthur Weasley, looking down at Marina and giving her a tired smile. "I suppose you know who I am then?"

Marina nodded but Healer Buckthorn gave a tense exclamation.

"This is not the time for introductions," she said urgently, allowing Arthur to take hold of Marina's arms and bear her unstable weight. "Get home as fast as you can – they usually come through the wards around this time."

"Alright," Mr Weasley said, nodding seriously. "Thank you, Buckthorn, give my best to your wife and daughter."

Healer Buckthorn gave a tight nod and left before Marina could say a thank you or a goodbye.

"Let's go," said Mr Weasley, quickly leading her out the door and into the cold street.

The chilly air nipped at Marina's bare feet and exposed arms. She shivered, goosebumps erupting over her skin.

"Don't worry," Mr Weasley said lowly as they sped down the dark London street. "We'll be home soon – the Portkey's just around the corner."

"Not Apparating?" Marina asked hoarsely. The cold air felt hard in her throat and she stifled a cough.

"The Ministry is monitoring my wand," he said darkly, "they'll know when and where I Apparate, don't want them asking questions…"

He trailed off, and two blocks later they turned a sharp right and approached a derelict-looking street food stall that was lying on its side on the footpath. Bottles of sauce, plastic cutlery, and plastic bags of bread had spilled across the concrete, and Mr Weasley stepped over these without a second glance as he rummaged through the metal cabinet of the upturned stall.

"Here," he said breathlessly, pulling out a regular-looking fry basket. No sooner had he picked it up did it begin to shake, and Mr Weasley shot Marina an urgent look.

"Quickly now!" he said, "grab it!"

She thrust her hand forward and seized the fry basket just in time. The world twisted around them and there was a sharp tug in Marina's stomach not unlike Apparating, before the two of them tumbled onto a cold, dewy green lawn.

"Up, quickly!" Mr Weasley said immediately, rolling to his feet and grabbing Marina by the shoulders. "They sometimes watch the house!"

Bending low, he hurried Marina forward and she stumbled along beside him, barely able to see. The field where they'd arrived was pitch black, the nearly full moon somehow doing little to light their way. Marina stumbled half-blindly across the rises and dips in the field and barely noticed when they began making their way through a large orchard, the oranging leaves of the trees just barely beginning to shed.

Finally, a tall, surreal house appeared directly before them. Marina glimpsed the stone walls of the ground level and the rickety wooden structures piled upon it in an increasingly wonky lean as the house stretched up above her, and the cluster of chimneys puffing clouds of pale smoke against the black starry sky. Before she could properly take it in, Mr Weasley was bundling her through the back door and shut it firmly behind her, wand tightly in hand as he peered out the small window behind them.

"Can't see anything," he breathed, not loosening his grip on his wand. "Better give it a few more moments –"

"Marina!" a voice gasped.

Marina turned. There, in the dimly lit, cluttered kitchen, was Mrs Weasley. She was much changed since Marina had last seen her. She too had lost weight, and her face was uncharacteristically pinched. Grey streaked her hair, and her eyes were tired and dark. The war had taken its toll on her.

"Mrs Weasley," Marina said weakly. The long beaten-down desire to cry was threatening to bubble up at the feeling of safety that her familiar face brought about.

"Come here, my dear," Mrs Weasley whispered, holding out her arms and looking close to tears herself.

Marina took the few shaky steps towards her and leaned into her hug. As she stood there in the safety of Mrs Weasley's comforting arms, she felt her last defenses fall and the tears spilled out. The confusion, the shock, the monstrous reality of the war finally hit her, and it was a long time before she could bear to lean away from Mrs Weasley's hug and face conversation again.

"Let's sit down," Mrs Weasley said gently when Marina finally gained control over her breathing. "We'll get a nice hot cup of tea into you and talk things over. I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

Mr Weasley was long since gone. Mrs Weasley explained that he had work early the next morning and needed to get what little sleep the night could afford him. Marina took a seat in the cosy, crowded lounge, guilt twisting in her stomach as she realised that coming to pick her up had costed Mr Weasley the majority of his night when he had to go face the Ministry of Magic the very next day. She edged as close to the softly crackling fireplace and pulled up the quilted blanket that Mrs Weasley had draped over her shoulders.

"There we are," Mrs Weasley said, handing her a very wide-brimmed earthenware mug of tea and sitting down in the armchair on the other side of the fireplace with her own cup. "Now," she said, voice turning more serious, "where should we start?"

"How did you know that I was at St Mungo's?" Marina rasped, wrapping her purple fingers around the warm mug.

"One of the Healers has a cousin who works in the Ministry," Mrs Weasley said, "word spread amongst our allies that there was a Muggle woman with a bad case of time sickness in the St Mungo's hidden ward." She smiled as she took a sip of tea. "It was a safe bet to assume that it was you, especially after how you disappeared."

Marina frowned, eyes on the floor unfocused. "So – I just vanished? For six years?"

Mrs Weasley nodded. "We assumed that you had been thrown into another time, but there was always the chance that you might not have gone too far and that we might see you again, so we all kept our eyes and ears open. Though recent events made us consider… other possibilities."

"What do you mean?" Marina asked curiously.

Mrs Weasley took a long sip of her tea, and Marina noticed that she wasn't quite meeting her eyes.

"Mrs Weasley," said Marina, lowering her own mug. "What happened? Whilst I was gone?"

Mrs Weasley sighed and closed her eyes tiredly, her hand coming up to rub her temple. "It has been a long six years, Marina," she said, "the last few of them have been… particularly long."

"Tell me what happened," Marina whispered.

Mrs Weasley nodded, looking stricken. "When you first vanished, things were… difficult. At first, Dumbledore suspected that perhaps Tom had been part of it, that he'd orchestrated it somehow."

This didn't surprise Marina in the slightest.

"Of course, Tom's biggest defense was the state that he arrived in," Mrs Weasley continued.

"Covered in my blood?" Marina asked dubiously.

"No, that once he returned, he healed the Horcrux," said Mrs Weasley, "Dumbledore told us that Tom was beginning to understand the full impact of You-Know-Who's actions, beyond the effect they had on the victim themselves." She hesitated, like she was unsure of how to phrase her next words. "Dumbledore said," she continued slowly, "that even though Tom had struggled to empathise with his father, he was remorseful that you'd had to pay the price for what he did."

"Riddle took on the Horcrux because he felt guilty about what happened to me?" Marina asked, confused.

Mrs Weasley nodded, but she looked apprehensive.

"Do you not think that's what happened?" frowned Marina, watching her.

"Let me continue," Mrs Weasley said, mirroring her frown. "Dumbledore was willing to work with Tom after that, they started looking for a way to track down the next Horcrux."

"Hufflepuff's cup," Marina asserted.

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley, "but it was more difficult than they had anticipated. After you stole the diary from the Malfoys, Lucius and Narcissa had increased their security measures everywhere. Breaking in was always going to be hard but it had been made impossible."

"But," Marina interrupted, "when I took the diary, I also took a hair from Narcissa! She's Bellatrix's sister, couldn't they have used –"

"A Polyjuice potion would get them to the front desk," Mrs Weasley sighed, "but the Malfoys had set up passwords and other checks to stop that very situation."

"So, the cup's still there?" Marina's frown deepened.

"It's still there," Mrs Weasley nodded slowly.

"So what did they do then?"

"Dumbledore continued to look for ways to infiltrate the Lestrange Vault," Mrs Weasley continued wearily. "And in the meantime, Tom began working at Ollivander's."

"The wand shop?" Marina couldn't help interrupting again, gobsmacked.

"Not his first choice," Mrs Weasley nodded, "but Ollivander was willing to take him on in spite of… or perhaps because of his strange background."

"You're joking," Marina shook her head. "Dumbledore banned Riddle from having a wand, and then let him work at Ollivander's?"

"Many months had passed since your disappearance, at that point," Mrs Weasley said wearily, "and Tom had been working closely with Dumbledore that whole time. I think… Dumbledore was beginning to…" she trailed off.

"Trust him?" prompted Marina sceptically.

"Dumbledore began to relax the rules on him," Mrs Weasley said, sipping her tea. "And for the next few years, they continued to work together. They never discussed it with me, of course, but I think it's safe to say that they moved past Horcruxes. They would travel sometimes, off studying magic that I'm sure none of the rest of us could even begin to understand."

They were both very powerful wizards, Marina supposed. Perhaps it made some strange sort of sense that once they had a sliver of trust for each other, they could push the boundaries of known magic together.

"After You-Know-Who returned, things changed," Mrs Weasley said in a hushed voice.

"And – the Triwizard Tournament – that was still –?" Marina stammered.

"Yes," nodded Mrs Weasley sadly, "once You-Know-Who was back, the old tensions between them seemed to return. Tom used to come here a lot, you know, before everything. He'd stay in Bill's old room, always very polite, always tidy…" she trailed off again, eyes welling with tears. "That all stopped of course," she said quietly, "Dumbledore was afraid that You-Know-Who would hear about Tom, that he'd try to reach him."

"Mrs Weasley," Marina said, coldness pooling in her stomach. "Where's Riddle?"

Mrs Weasley fixed her with a sad look. "Things got worse once – once Dumbledore died," she whispered. "The Order had always kept Tom a secret from Snape just to be safe, but we couldn't be sure…"

Marina barely had time to process that Snape had still killed Dumbledore, and she forced her mind to resist running down that path and asking more about it, made herself stay focused on Riddle. "Where is he, Mrs Weasley?"

"When the Death Eaters kidnapped Ollivander last year, we were worried that he would tell You-Know-Who about Tom under torture," Mrs Weasley said in a wavering voice.

"Did they take him? Is he with V – with You-Know-Who?"

The comforting warmth from Marina's tea had leeched away, and the ceramic was now cold in her hands.

"And… and after they killed Moody," Mrs Weasley whispered, barely audible, "when they attacked Bill and Fleur's wedding, Tom… he…"

She was crying now, silent tears rolling down her weary face. "Tom disappeared, Marina."

"Disappeared," repeated Marina thickly.

Mrs Weasley nodded. "He was at the wedding, and then when the Death Eaters were gone, so was he. No one knows where he went, maybe they took him and maybe he… maybe he went with them."

Marina felt the numbness creeping back in.

A/N: Thank you for all your reviews! They really make it all worth it, to be honest.

Hope everyone is keeping safe :)