A huge thank you to everyone who read the last chapter, and especially the four reviewers :) Quick shout-outs to 1saaa and OneWhoReadsTooMuch for reviewing all the chapters set in the alternate world; I really, really appreciated hearing your thoughts :) And, as always, I'd love to hear your responses to this one...
Sunday 19 April, 1998:
Here lies Dobby, a Free Elf.
Harry stared at the grave he had dug nearly three weeks ago. Three weeks… He wasn't even sure what that really meant now. Time hadn't felt the same this year, without the constraints of a Hogwarts timetable, and being on-the-run. There were weeks that had rushed by in the blink of an eye, and hours that had struggled forward, weighed back by his inability to make good use of them. Now he wasn't sure which he preferred: to feel like he didn't have enough, or that he had too much on his hands. He wanted to do something, but all he did was think.
Three weeks since the Snatchers had captured him, Ron and Hermione, and taken them to Malfoy Manor, where they had been interrogated by Rabastan Lestrange, who was still looking for vengeance for his brother's death almost two years ago. And as Lena was still nowhere to be found, the others who had been at the Ministry that day had to bear the brunt of his anger.
Narcissa Malfoy, however, hadn't seemed so furious about the death of her sister last December, on what would have been Lena's twenty-second birthday. Bellatrix, after nearly eight months of suffering, had finally succumbed to her daughter's torture. Harry had learned of it from his forays into Voldemort's mind. With red eyes, he had dispassionately looked down at her corpse, but Harry had felt the fear within him – fear of the girl who he had loved as a daughter, and who had loved him as a father. He'd still been afraid when he'd opened Dumbledore's tomb and had taken the Elder Wand.
Three weeks since Malfoy Manor, and almost four months since they had last destroyed a Horcrux. There were still three left, and Harry didn't have a clue where two of them were.
Well, that wasn't strictly true. Ever since their hunt for the Horcruxes had begun, Harry had felt a strong pull to Hogwarts. He was certain Voldemort had concealed one there, he just wasn't sure whether it was Hufflepuff's Cup or the one that was still unknown, or where it could be in the school.
Or maybe he just wanted to go to Hogwarts because that was where Eve was. As he thought of her, a familiar ache in his heart resurfaced. Clever, fierce, beautiful Eve.
Three weeks since Malfoy Manor, four months since Slytherin's Locket had been destroyed, and nine months since he had last seen the girl he loved. They'd had little more than a month together before Snape had killed Dumbledore, and he'd had to tell her things needed to come to an end, because he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts the next year as he had a mission to complete. Eve had looked him in the eye, and told him she understood.
Then less than a week after he'd returned to 4 Privet Drive, there had been a knock at the front door.
Harry was in the kitchen, getting himself lunch, when he heard there was someone at the door. Putting down the butter knife he was using to spread the jam on the bread, he felt for his wand, which he was keeping in his jeans' waistband. He had kept it on hand at all times since he'd returned to Little Whingeing, despite Uncle Vernon's initial protestations.
Hesitantly, he approached the front door. Uncle Vernon was at work, Dudley was upstairs playing a computer game, and Aunt Petunia had complained of a headache when she'd woken up that morning, and was consequentially still in bed. He unlocked the door, took a deep breath, then cautiously opened it a crack.
"Hi."
Harry gaped, opening the door wider. Eve, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and her hair in thick braids, was standing on the doorstep.
"What are you doing here?" he asked once he'd regained the power of speech. "And how are you here?" He knew she didn't live nearby.
"To answer your second question, about four hours' worth of public transport," she replied. "As to your first… well, I've been thinking about what you said to me at the funeral. And I've decided it was a bit dumb. Not the bit about you having to complete what Dumbledore started to finally end Voldemort," she added hastily, as Harry opened his mouth to interject. "The thing about how I can't be your girlfriend anymore."
"Eve–"
"The thing is, Harry," she pressed on, "I'm kind of in love with you. And I know that's ridiculous because we haven't even been together for two months, but, well–" she shrugged, "–it is what it is. Yes, with me at Hogwarts and you… wherever it is you end up, we're probably not going to see each other much, or even be able to communicate properly. But that doesn't really matter to me. What does is that whatever happens to the world and to us, from now on, you can be sure of one thing – me."
Harry stared at her, speechless again.
After a couple of seconds, Eve's confident expression began to falter. "Unless, of course, the reason you broke us up was because you genuinely don't want to be with me anymore– oh!"
She was cut off by Harry pulling her inside and kissing her fervently. As her hands found his shoulders, Harry gently pushed her back against the door, closing it. He felt like fireworks were going off inside him. Eve loved him. And he loved her. No matter what happened next.
He hadn't seen her since that day. Ron had suggested they could send her a last-minute invitation to Bill and Fleur's wedding, but Harry had said no. In that month they'd been together at Hogwarts, he and Eve had kept their relationship discreet and until it was all over, he wanted to keep it that way. His worst fear was that Voldemort would find out and hurt her as a way of getting to Harry.
He had used the Marauder's Map to keep an eye on her at Hogwarts. Lately, however, he hadn't seen her name much. Hopefully that meant she was spending a lot of time in the secret semi-circle room or other hiding places that didn't show up on the Map, and staying out of the way of Snape and the Slytherins who welcomed the new Anti-Muggle-born regime.
Harry sighed. At least Eve didn't have to worry about her friend Erin. She had told him that day at 4 Privet Drive that her father, with all his connections from his work overseas, was planning to get the Muggle-born girl and her mother to safety outside Britain. According to Ron, who had learned from Bill during his previous stay at Shell Cottage, the plan had worked.
A cool breeze hit Harry, making him shiver. Night was approaching. It was time for him to head back inside to the overcrowded (even without Ollivander since the previous evening) house. Fleur and Bill would be almost finished preparing dinner.
He was just sitting down at the table with the others when there was a bang on the front door. Everyone's heads turned towards it. Fleur came running out of the kitchen, looking frightened; Bill jumped to his feet, his wand pointing at the door; Harry, Ron and Hermione did the same. Silently, Griphook slipped beneath the table out of sight.
"Who is it?" Bill called.
"It is I, Remus John Lupin!" replied a voice over the wind, which had become more wild since Harry had come back inside. "I am a werewolf, married to Lena Lestrange, and you, the Secret Keeper of Shell Cottage, told me the address and bade me come in an emergency!"
Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous looks as Bill ran to the door. What kind of emergency had prompted Remus to come? None of them had seen him since last August, when he'd checked up on them at 12 Grimmauld Place, also letting them know that Rolf Scamander had just managed to get Maggie out of the country, taking her back to Brazil with him.
Bill wrenched the door open, revealing an exhausted Remus, wrapped up in a travelling cloak and his greying hair windswept. He looked around the room, trying to discern who was present, as he closed the door behind him.
"What 'az 'appened?" asked Fleur, her hands clasped nervously in front of her chest.
Remus locked eyes with Harry, and he immediately knew that it had something to do with Lena.
"I need to speak to Harry in private," said Remus quietly.
Harry could see that Ron and Hermione were going to protest, but he shook his head at them, pocketing his wand. "All right," he replied, and led Remus to the stairs. They stopped on the second-floor landing, and Harry looked at Remus inquiringly.
"Lena's back."
A mixture of relief and caution filled Harry's head. "When you say 'Lena'–"
"Our Lena. She's at the Lestrange Estate now."
Harry had lots of questions which he wanted to ask all at once. But he hesitated. There was something different in the way Remus held himself, a haunted look in his eyes which hadn't been there before. It took a few seconds before he realised what it was: grief. And it was fresh.
"God, Remus," he said softly, "what happened?"
For a long moment, Remus looked away from him, staring blankly at the wall. Then he shifted his gaze back to Harry and told him, "I'd rather not talk about it now. I don't think…" He swallowed. "I don't think I have the right words yet."
Despite his burning curiosity, Harry nodded slowly. "Okay. Then why – and I don't mean to sound rude – did you come here?"
"Lena asked me to deliver you a message."
Harry straightened, all his nerves tingling. "She did? What is it?"
"The Cup is no longer a problem."
Harry stared at him, his heart skipping a beat. The Cup is no longer a problem. Did Lena mean–
"I have no idea what it means," said Remus, when Harry didn't immediately respond, and shrugged. "But she said you'd understand."
"Yeah," said Harry, his mind whirring. "Yeah, I think I do."
Lena had destroyed Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, and the part of Voldemort's soul that had resided within it. Harry didn't know when, or how, but it was gone. And he had so many questions…
"Hang on," said Harry, frowning, "if Lena's back, why didn't she come with you to tell me herself?"
Remus ran a hand through his hair, somehow looking even more tired than before. "When I say she's back, her mind is," he explained. "But Hecate's heart and the Nekrosía are still inside her. And… she's having a bit of trouble keeping them under control."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "What the hell does that mean?"
The back wall of the ground-floor study exploded, sending chunks of painted stone everywhere.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" cried Lena, throwing up her arms to shield herself from the debris. "Will you just stop it?"
Inside her, the Nekrosía twisted and writhed, while Hecate's heart stubbornly beat louder, like it was trying to drown her out. It was furious. With her.
She had been attempting to magically move a chair. Instead, she had disintegrated it, and the excess Nekrosía that had slipped out had smashed into the wall like a wrecking ball. Destruction – that was all it wanted now, as it rebelled against its ungrateful master.
'How dare you?' the voice of Hecate hissed in her head, for the umpteenth time. 'How dare you throw it all away? We are a Goddess, we could have done so much more!'
"You mean keep slaughtering people," snarled Lena, "until we had enough power that not even the universe could stop us. But that still wouldn't be enough for you, would it?"
'I gave you everything, you wretched girl!'
"Gave me?!" In her anger, Lena's tenuous grip on the Nekrosía slipped, and another stream of black shot out, smashing a hole through the wall to her left. She quickly reigned it in, at the same time yelling, "You stole all your power! That's what Nekrosía is – stolen lives! And you didn't give it to me, I threw myself in your way, like a blanket onto flames! You set me on fire, and I don't want to burn anymore!"
'Then why don't you release me? Pull me back out of your chest–'
"And let you turn the rest of the world to ash?" Lena let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Fuck you."
She grimaced as the Nekrosía tried to tear her apart, clawing at her insides. The remnants of her own magic pulled it back, but it was so small in comparison to the black poison.
When she had first come back through the Mirror, her desolation at losing Matilda had completely numbed the Dark magic and muffled Hecate's voice. But once Remus had arrived and Lena had finally been able to stand again, she had tried to use magic to clear away the shattered glass, and the Nekrosía had roared to life. She had barely managed to protect Remus and Mortimer from the resulting explosion. Now, the hall was gone – all that remained were dust and ash, as well as a few fragments of the Mirror, which Remus had picked up and put in a desk-drawer in her study on the second floor. Outside of their memories, the shards were the only way they could see Matilda again…
'I had such high hopes for you,' whispered Hecate poisonously. 'Now, you are my greatest disappointment.'
Lena smiled bitterly. "Yeah, both you and Voldemort. But guess what – I don't care. I've learned to let go."
'Give up, you mean.'
"No," replied Lena quietly. "I don't mean that. But how could you ever understand? You were so afraid of letting go you were willing to spend three thousand years as a damn ball."
At this point, Hecate gave up on articulating her fury and loathing, and started shrieking incoherently.
"Scream as much as you like," Lena told her, pushing away the pain of the Nekrosía's internal revolt. She could always handle pain. "But I'm going to find a way to destroy you for once and for all. And I'll do it without hurting anyone else."
Hecate momentarily paused her shrieking, to sneer, 'And how are you planning on doing that when you can't even control your magic now, Lena? What are you going to use–" she laughed derisively, '–the power of love that Albus Dumbledore always blathered about?'
For a second, the image of Lily Potter's face filled Lena's head. And she remembered why she wasn't alive in this world.
"Why not?" said Lena softly, which abruptly cut off Hecate's laughing. "I believe in love, bitch."
Valeriya arrived the following night in the middle of a torrential downpour, having been sent a message by Remus before he'd left for Shell Cottage. He answered the door for her, and led her into the living room, where Lena was sitting with Mortimer. When they entered, she stood up, nervously watching Valeriya, who stared back at her with an unreadable expression.
Then her aunt strode over to her, and for the first time in Lena's life, properly hugged her. Shocked at first, Lena eventually began to return the hug – at which point Valeriya drew back and whacked her shoulder.
Lena winced, rubbing it. "Ow. Hello, Valeriya."
Valeriya glared up at her. "'Hello?' I don't see you for a whole year because you're off your face on Nekrosía, going around murdering people – yes, your friend Theodora told me about that – and creating alternate timelines, and when you finally come to your senses, it's your husband who has to contact me because you're too scared to do it yourself, and now all you say to me is, 'Hello'?"
"Give her a break," said Remus sharply, as Mortimer leapt from the sofa onto his arm. "You have no idea what she's been through." He had only mentioned in his message that Lena had used the Mirror of Erised to rewrite Time and had been living there for the past nine months – not what had happened while she was there.
At his words, Lena subconsciously touched her stomach, which in turn made Remus clench his jaw. He knew she having difficulty with her body, as it had reverted back to how it had been before she'd first stepped through the Mirror.
A body that had never been pregnant.
The gesture didn't escape Valeriya's astute observation. She continued to stare at Lena for a little longer, before her expression morphed into understanding.
"Oh, you didn't," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "Please tell me you didn't–"
"Her name was Matilda," whispered Lena, and screwed her eyes shut as a small shudder wracked her.
It unnerved Remus that the way Valeriya was now looking at Lena reminded him of how his own mother had used to gaze down at him when he'd awake the morning after a transformation, his body bruised and bleeding – with an aching heart and eyes full of love for her child. It was so strange to think of Valeriya as maternal, but…
'She's the closest thing Lena's ever had to a proper parent,' thought Remus. 'Well, in this world, at least.'
Valeriya put an arm around Lena, and sat down on the sofa with her. "Tell me all about her," she murmured.
Despite the fact she was almost a head taller than Valeriya, Lena slumped down to rest her head on her shoulder, as tears began to leak out. "She was so perfect, Valeriya…"
Remus slipped out of the room, Mortimer on his shoulder, as she began to weep, choking out words of love for their daughter who no longer existed. It was time she leant on someone who wasn't already falling.
The sun was close to rising when Lena finally finished telling Valeriya everything that had happened in the Other world (as she now thought of it). Remus had gone to bed hours ago, but she didn't mind; she knew he'd had no sleep the previous night.
She wiped her face, a couple of the tear-tracks having not yet dried. Looking at her slightly damp fingertips, she murmured to Valeriya, "I've spent so much of the last few days crying. Every time I finish, I think I don't have any tears left. But then I think of Matilda, and they start to flow again." She half-smiled. "Strange to think I've spent the majority of my life without crying at all."
Valeriya, who was sitting sideways on the sofa with her head resting on its back, quietly replied, "That's because you never used to care. And not caring is so much easier." She sighed. "I realised that when I was young and I knew I wasn't like the rest of my family, didn't believe in the things they did. I taught myself not to care, because it was easier than fighting against them – or for them. It's so much simpler to tell yourself that what is good and what is bad are simply matters of perspective; that everybody dies, and the how and why of it are unimportant; to build walls around yourself rather than bridges. Because if you let in just one person, they might make you do something terrible like be selfless."
Lena stared at her. "Eleven years ago," she said slowly, "when you separated me from the Orb after I killed Irina – you didn't know for sure whether you would survive doing so, didn't you?"
Valeriya shifted so she was no longer directly facing Lena. "No," she answered, poorly feigning nonchalance, "I suppose I didn't."
Lena didn't speak for a long time, just gazing at her aunt. A woman who would have died for her, although she would struggle to admit it out loud. Finally, she said, "Well, how would you like to help me now to try to make the separation permanent?"
Valeriya's eyes snapped back to her. "What do you mean?"
"I mean we need to get rid of Hecate and the Nekrosía," said Lena, ignoring the screeching inside her head and the agony in the rest of her body. "Forever."
"But that's not possible," argued Valeriya. "Believe me, I've spent years researching for a way. There's nothing that can destroy Nekrosía, its power comes from death itself. It's indestructible."
Sitting up straight, Lena looked her right in the eye. "Then I guess we need to find a way to kill what's already dead."
Over the next week-and-a-half, the Lestrange Estate essentially became a research institute. Although it started off with just Lena, Remus, and Valeriya, within a few days they were joined by Markellos, Sârbu, Hedda Nygård and Healer Kamilah Ghali – and, to Lena and Remus' surprise, Theodora. Apparently, after witnessing Lena's massacre of the Orkístike, she had decided being an acolyte of a millennia-old Dark sorceress wasn't as great as she had been promised. Tizzy was also contributing, although she was more delighted by the fact she now had a household of over half-a-dozen to look after.
The arrival of so many foreign wizards with 'reputations' would have drawn the attention of Voldemort and the Death Eaters if it wasn't for the fact that they were all rather good at travelling discretely – as well as that Voldemort was clearly obsessing over Harry, who had yet again slipped out of his grasp at Malfoy Manor. Evidently, the Dark Lord had figured out that the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't just running away from him – he was completing a mission.
Of course, Lena was now the only one alive who actually knew how the mission had to end. Or perhaps, after she had gone to Svartlager, Dumbledore had finally confided in Snape so there had been someone else to tell Harry when the time came.
The problem was Lena couldn't go to Hogwarts to check with Snape. Usually, she'd have no trouble sneaking in, even if the school was guarded by a swarm of Death Eaters. However, Lena – for the second time in her life – was having to go without magic.
Well, technically she was using it, to keep some semblance of control over the Nekrosía. The trouble was that such a task required all her magic to be used constantly, meaning there was none left over to do anything else – even to move a cup an inch. It was enormously frustrating, but at least this time she didn't have the added stress of trying to keep it a secret from everyone. This time, she had asked for help.
And she was receiving it.
But the progress of the unlikely crew – a mixture of criminals, academics, a Healer, an ex-cult member, a werewolf and a house-elf – was slow-going. After all, it was quite a tricky thing they were trying to pull off.
"What we don't want to end up happening," said Markellos on the final night of April, while they were all gathered in the living room, eating dinner while they continued to work, "is somehow stopping death to get rid of the Nekrosía, and accidently making such a thing permanent. Because if everybody suddenly stops dying, what we get is–"
"Chaos," finished Lena, Valeriya and Sârbu in unison. It wasn't the first time someone had brought this up.
Hedda, swallowing the last of her bread roll, spoke up. "I still think using the reflection dimension is our best bet. Obviously, the Mirror of Erised would have been ideal, but–"
"That's no longer an option, yes," said Lena, putting the last fishcake on her plate. "Even if I hadn't blown up the hall and most of the shards, I don't think it could have been repaired after it shattered as I came back through. The whole inverting reality thing really screwed it up."
"But there are plenty other magic mirrors," Valeriya pointed out. "What if we could use one of them?"
"Look, I'm not an expert on mirrors," interjected Kamilah, "but I'm fairly certain that the world contained in their reflections is not equivalent to our reality." She glanced at Lena. "Right?"
Lena nodded, spearing the fishcake with her fork. "That's why I had to invert it. And to have enough power to do that, I had to use the Nekrosía – which is not something I'm willing to do anymore."
"Okay," continued Kamilah. "So if the reflection dimension is not as, well, real as reality, then its relationship with death is probably quite different."
"What does that mean," interrupted Remus, "'relationship with death'?"
Kamilah turned to him. "Well, for us, death is the only certainty, right? It's part of the fabric of reality. It's bound to the whole idea of existence – you can't have one without the other. They are a binary opposition. Each defines the other."
Sârbu took over. "But the reflection dimension is not a reality," he explained. "It is a possibility. Now, from this side of the glass we can only see what is reflected. But what is behind the image? You see, in reality we know that there is always something behind us, even if we can't see it, because that's what reality is: something. There is no such thing that is truly 'nothing' in our world, because everything is made of something, even if we can't see it. But if you see a closed door in a reflection, nothing is behind it, because the image you see is all that exists."
"That 'nothing' is a potential," said Hedda, "and what we call the reflection dimension. With magic, we can manipulate it – create connections between mirrors, use it as a space to contain things–"
"But what it isn't," Lena put in, "is existence. Which means there's no death. So, what I think Kamilah was trying to say is that we can't use it to temporarily stop death, because death is only here." She vaguely gestured around.
Theodora, who'd been eating silently for the last ten minutes, finally piped up. "You know, you'd think this is exactly the kind of stuff they'd teach you in a cult dedicated to something that was supposed to literally change the world, but no, we just spent most of our time stalking, torturing and murdering people."
Lena arched an eyebrow at her. "And you wondered why I didn't want to be friends with you guys." Suddenly, there was tingling in her arm – the Blood magic protective enchantment around the estate. "Somebody's at the gate," she announced.
Everybody immediately tensed; they weren't expecting anybody else to join them. Remus, however, jumped to his feet, his eyes widening. "Oh, I wasn't expecting them until tomorrow," he muttered.
"Expecting who?" asked Valeriya sharply.
"You'll see in a minute," Remus called back, hurrying out. "Don't worry, they're friends!"
Everyone looked around at each other, puzzled, but a minute later they were all engrossed again in a discussion about whether any of the leftover Fate blood from Circe's Vault might be of any use. But this brief conversation was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing again, and multiple footsteps approaching the living room.
Remus re-entered – and behind him followed Maggie and Rolf.
Lena's jaw dropped. As her two best friends sought her out among all the faces in the crowded room, she leapt to her feet and flung herself at them.
Maggie let out a shriek of delight and Rolf a rather unmanly squeal as Lena crashed into them. The three of them hugged fiercely; a tangle of limbs and indistinct sounds of joy.
"I've missed you both so much," whispered Lena, her cheeks against theirs.
Maggie sniffed, her eyes moistening. "Of course you have – we're amazing."
Then Lena pulled back, finally processing what was happening. "Wait a minute," she said, frowning, "you're not supposed to be here. You guys – especially you, Maggie – should be back in Brazil, far away–"
"From the Death Eaters who'd like to see me dead?" Maggie snorted. "I've spent the last nine months hiding from the fight – and I hated it. When Remus got a message to us that you were back and okay, it didn't seem like there was an excuse anymore to stay away."
"Although for Maggie, you're only fifty percent of the reason she came back," said Rolf, grinning. "She's spent just as much time complaining about being separated from Oliver as she has worrying about you. Oh, and we didn't come alone." He jerked a thumb behind him, and Lena noticed she had one more visitor.
"Newt!" she cried, and quickly hugged the old wizard who had been watching her reunion with his grandson and Maggie with a smile.
"It's good to see you again, Lena," he told her warmly.
"Newt Scamander?" inquired Markellos, standing up and looking at the famed Magizoologist in awe. "Oh my, this is an honour." He rushed over to shake the mildly amused Newt's hand.
Meanwhile, Valeriya was saying hello to Maggie and Rolf. "It's good to finally meet the two of you."
As everybody else began to introduce their selves to the three new guests, Lena stood a little back, watching them all. It was so strange to see all her different worlds colliding.
Strange, but good.
Standing beside her, Remus put his arm around her.
Lena glanced up at him. "Why didn't you tell me that they were coming?"
"Because I knew you would say it wasn't safe for Maggie to come," replied Remus, then smiled. "But I also knew that once they did, you'd be too happy to be angry." He pulled her in a little closer to him. "And I think after everything that's happened – and still is happening – you could do with a bit more happy."
She kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.
In return, he kissed the top of her head. For another few seconds, they simply watched the mingling crowd in front of them. Then Remus spoke again.
"Tell you what, though – this is the strangest dinner party I've ever been to."
For the first time since saying goodbye to Matilda, Lena properly laughed. It was small and brief and it hurt a little as soon as she realised it. But it was also hope.
And that was why she had come back.
Although Maggie and Rolf were going to stay at the Lestrange Estate, Newt was returning home to Tina. So, shortly after the clock struck midnight, he made his excuses, and Lena walked him to the gate, Mortimer perched on her shoulder. It was a cool, clear night, which allowed the sky full of bright stars and the glowing crescent moon to light their way.
At first, there was a companionable silence between the two of them. Then Newt remarked, "You certainly know how to make interesting friends."
"Says the man who befriends all manner of unusual and dangerous creatures," said Lena wryly. After a pause, she added more earnestly, "Strange friends are better than none at all." She glanced at him. "You helped me understand that." A finger began to twirl the end of her long ponytail around it. "I know that Christmas Eve when we spoke on your doorstep was only six years ago, but in a way, it feels like it might as well have been a century ago."
Newt chuckled softly. "I find it sometimes more useful to think of time in terms of how much happens during it, rather than simply measuring how long it takes."
"In that case, I've lived a very long twenty-two years." Lena considered this for a moment. "Although, I suppose an argument could be made for it being forty-four…"
"You're referring to this… 'other' world, that you were all discussing back there?" He gestured towards the house.
Lena nodded. "I still have all the memories." She also had the flashes of Hecate's memories, but they didn't really count, now that there was a clear delineation of where she began and Hecate ended. The ancient witch who now lived inside her mind liked to remind her of it at least a thousand times a day – including right now, as she hurled silent abuse at Lena.
"Is it terribly confusing?"
"Only slightly more than the rest of my life has been. Newt, may I ask you a question?"
Newt looked a little surprised that she'd felt the need to ask for permission. "Of course."
"How did Leta Lestrange die?" After Newt had mentioned her deceased distant relative all those years ago, Lena had tried to find out what had happened to her, but hadn't uncovered much, apart from that she had died in Paris in 1927.
Newt took his time to respond. "Bravely," he said at last, "but needlessly. I suppose one might even say… foolishly."
It was a rather enigmatic reply, but Lena was hesitant to insist for further clarification. Clearly, even after all this time, it was still a painful memory for him.
After some more silence, Newt continued, "She was trying to save people, but it didn't work. Her sacrifice didn't really change anything. I think, at the time, she just thought it was the right thing to do. She wasn't a happy young woman, feeling enormous guilt for something she had done as a child, and I think that meant she didn't value her life as much as she should have."
"Oh." Lena looked away from Newt, her stomach twisting. But this time, it wasn't just the Nekrosía doing it. A concerned Mortimer twittered in her ear, and she knew he could sense the tension in her shoulders. Gently, she plucked him off her shoulder and held him out in front of her, so she could give him a small, reassuring smile.
Mortimer quietened, but Lena knew he wasn't entirely convinced that she was okay. And Newt, who had watched their exchange, wasn't either.
"But you know you're more than just your mistakes, don't you, Lena?" he said quietly. "You have more than enough people around you now to remind you of that."
"Because of you," Lena told him. "I don't know where I would be if you hadn't come outside that night to talk to me, but I'm pretty sure it would be worse than where I am now." She paused. "Actually, I'd probably be dead. So, thank you for that."
At this point, they reached the gate. As Lena went to open it, Newt said, "That night you asked me 'what's so great about being human?' – I wonder, do you still think we are so terrible?"
Lena closed her hand around the unlocked gate, but didn't open it yet as she considered her answer.
"I think," she finally began, "that our world is full of stupidity and selfishness and cruelty and people shouting loudly they know best when they don't really know anything at all. I suspect there will probably always be murderers and warmongers and weak people who cling to delusions because they're too afraid of reality. I don't know if the world will ever be a good place for everyone who lives in it." She met Newt's gaze steadily. "But as long as there is just one person who wants to make it better, to make it kinder and safer and good, then there's hope for humanity. And at the end of everything, when there is nothing else left, I think that's probably what will matter the most."
Newt gazed at her for a long moment, and it struck Lena just how much his eyes must have seen in his very long, very full life. "I am very glad," he eventually said, gently touching her arm, "that I have had the chance to know you, Lena Lestrange."
Lena smiled, then kissed him on the cheek. Stepping back, she opened the gate for him, as Mortimer waved goodbye with a tiny, twiggy arm. "It's been an honour, Mr Scamander."
Friday 1 May, 1998:
As Voldemort stood before the shack that had once been his mother's home, his heart thudded loudly in his chest, while Nagini slithered around his feet impatiently. The ramshackle dwelling had grown even more dilapidated in the decades since he'd last been here… when he had hidden the ring. The second Horcrux he had made.
But would it still be there?
Just over one year ago, Lena had come to his island and destroyed Helga Hufflepuff's Cup right in front of him, and terror had seized Voldemort. She had discovered the secret to his immortality, and with whatever new power she had gained, she could crush it with her bare hands. And she had made it very clear that she could take all of them away – well, the ones that were left. Lucius' carelessness had already lost him the diary by that time.
He hadn't since Lena since then, although she was a constant presence in his mind, but her absence frightened him more than if she had paid regular visits to remind him of her threat…
"Because I want you to remember that the only reason you are still breathing is because I am letting you… I'm going to allow you to keep playing your little war games for a bit longer. In fact, I hope you get closer and closer to winning, to getting everything you want. Because that will make it all the more enjoyable when I finally take it away from you…"
For an entire year, he had felt as though the executioner's axe was hovering over him, and there was nothing he could do to escape it. What else could he do but continue on, and take over Wizarding society in Britain, like he had always intended? When the Ministry had fallen at the beginning of last August, Voldemort had wondered if this was it – was this when she took it all away from him?
But nothing had happened. So he had pressed on, searching for the unbeatable wand that Ollivander had told him about. A month ago, he had pried it from the dead hands of Dumbledore. And the moment he had held it in his hand, he had spun around, expecting Lena to be there, desperately hoping that maybe he now had a weapon with which he could fight her. But she hadn't been there. He still wasn't close enough to winning, because Potter was still alive and out of his reach.
It was his capture and escape from Malfoy Manor that had finally woken Voldemort from his stupor of fear – Potter wasn't just hiding from him, biding his time until he thought he was ready to face him. The Ministry incursion last September, the visit to Godric's Hollow at Christmas, the fact he'd been in possession of the Sword of Gryffindor when the Snatchers had caught him – he was actually doing something. But what?
Less than an hour ago, in his home on his island, he had stood in the room that had held Lena for four months. And for the first time, he'd remembered one of their conversations: in which she had revealed she and Dumbledore had discussed his history. Including his lineage on his mother's side.
Of course, he had always suspected that Dumbledore had done his research on him – the old man had been a fool, but not an idiot. What he'd never considered was that Dumbledore had discovered more than just family trees. He'd assumed Lena had only learned of his Horcruxes because of her new power. It had never occurred to him that perhaps the conversations between the two of them might have included the subject of how to kill him. And they had let Potter in on the secret too.
'But they can't have destroyed any of them yet,' Voldemort tried to reassure himself for the hundredth time. 'I would have felt it. Maybe not when I was little more than a shadow, but how could I not now?'
But he had to know for sure. He had come to the shack first, as that was the least secure. With a long-fingered hand, he pushed the door open and entered the dark, dank, dust-filled abode, Nagini hissing as she followed. Approaching the spot, he waved the Elder Wand and two rotting floorboards were pulled out, revealing a small gold box. He picked it up and removed the several protective enchantments he'd placed upon it long ago. Cautious relief began to settle him; the box appeared untouched…
Then he opened it.
And it was empty.
"Did it hurt, childbirth?"
Lena turned her head to the side to look at Maggie. "Yeah," she answered, after a moment. "But I've felt worse."
It was the first time since she and Rolf had arrived the previous night that Lena and Maggie had had time to speak to each other alone. After another full day of trying to figure out how to do the impossible with some of the greatest minds she knew, Lena had desperately wanted to talk to her best friend about something else, just for a little while. So, after dinner, they had gone up to her and Remus' bedroom, and were lying on the bed together while David Bowie sang on the cassette-player. Next to Lena's dresser, upon which the cassette-player sat, was the suitcase that held her real heart. So close, yet still so far…
"Do you know," asked Maggie tentatively, "if since leaving the Mirror, whether you're…" She trailed off.
"Infertile again?" supplied Lena, subconsciously placing a hand on her abdomen. "I don't really know. I do know if I wasn't, it definitely wouldn't be safe to conceive another child while the Nekrosía is still inside me." She hesitated, before adding, "Since I came back, Remus and I haven't had sex. I think for both of us, it just feels… wrong. At least, for now."
"That's understandable," murmured Maggie. "At least he remembers everything." A few seconds later, she turned onto her side to properly face Lena. "God, this is all so insane! I mean, when we first met when we were eleven, I knew you were different – a genuine genius. But I never imagined that one day you would rewrite history, and basically create a whole new world, like some kind of… god. I thought you would just, like, invent something cool. Or write a book."
Lena moved onto her side too, smiling. "Yeah, that probably would have been a bit more sensible."
Maggie tried to smile too, but her bottom lip started to quiver. "Last year, when Remus told me what had happened to you, I didn't think I was ever going to see you again," she whispered.
Taking her hand and interlocking their fingers, Lena replied softly, "But here I am. Home again."
"Yeah, in your enormous mansion."
"I wasn't talking about the Lestrange Estate. I meant you, and Valeriya, and Remus." She squeezed Maggie's hand. "My family. That's my home."
Maggie let go of her hand, and for a second, Lena thought she was going to tease her for being so sickeningly sentimental. Instead, her friend shuffled closer and wrapped her arms around her, and Lena returned the hug.
"Room for one more?'
The two girls' heads snapped to the doorway, where Rolf stood with Mortimer sitting on his shoulder. Without waiting for an answer, he bounded over and jumped on the bed.
"Careful!" yelped Maggie, as one of his flailing arms narrowly missed whacking her in the face.
"Sorry," apologised Rolf cheerfully. He had ended up on the other side of Lena, squished up against her. Mortimer scrambled off, going to his spot on the bedside table. "Just looked like I was missing out on some quality hugging."
Lena shifted so she was lying on her back again, between her two best friends, feeling unusually content. At that moment, there was nowhere else she would rather be.
For a while, the three of them chatted about nothing in particular. Then Rolf, who was telling Lena about his run-in with a Peruvian Vipertooth who had flown a little far from home, abruptly sat up.
"Hey, it's that song!" he said excitedly, gesturing to the cassette-player. "Remember, the summer before sixth year, we listened to it in that record store? I said it sounded weird, and Lena told me to shut up, because she thought it was cool."
"Running Up That Hill," said Lena, also sitting up as the singer, Kate Bush, began:
"It doesn't hurt me.
Do you want to feel how it feels?
Do you want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?"
Rolf grinned, and grabbed Lena's hand as he hopped off the bed. "Come on, then!"
Lena opened her mouth to protest, but then shrugged, letting Rolf pull her up. Yes, she was still grieving for Matilda, and the Nekrosía was causing her pain every second of every moment, and they were in the middle of the war. But why not dance? Why not, just for now, forget about everything but the music, and live?
As Rolf started to twirl her, Lena – who had listened to the song many, many times – began to sing along with it.
"And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get him to swap our places;
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building…"
On the last line of the chorus, Maggie finally joined in with the dancing. Lena let go of Rolf so he could take Maggie's hands, and began spinning around by herself, moving her head to the beat, her hands raised in the air. She danced with wild abandon, and it was infuriating Hecate.
"You don't want to hurt me,
But see how deep the bullet lies.
Unaware I'm tearing you asunder,
Oh, there is thunder in our hearts.
Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?"
Maggie spun out of Rolf's arms and into Lena's. The girls started to dance together, twirling around the room while Rolf, despite never having been to a disco, began to move as though he were completely familiar with such a thing. Pulling her close, Lena dipped Maggie. As she did, she caught sight of the open doorway.
Where Remus, Valeriya, Theodora, Markellos, Sârbu, Hedda and Kamilah stood, watching the three of them with stunned expressions.
Lena didn't stop dancing; she let go of Maggie when she was upright again, and went over to Remus, taking his hand and tugging him inside the bedroom, her eyes not leaving his. Within a few seconds, Remus went from confused to understanding. He put his hands on her waist, while hers went on his shoulders, and he began to sway in time with her. And Lena sang, not with the greatest of accuracy, but with all her heart:
"Say, if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get him to swap our places.
I'd be running up that road,
Be running up that hill
With no problems…"
The fervour of the dancing began to lessen as the song approached its end. But Lena and Remus still didn't tear their gazes from each other.
It was only when a silver cat suddenly descended from the ceiling, landing in the middle of the bedroom floor, that they finally looked away.
The cat Patronus, looking directly at Remus, opened its mouth and spoke with the voice of Minerva McGonagall: "Remus, Harry has come back to Hogwarts, and You-Know-Who has been alerted. There will be a battle. The time has arrived to make our last stand. The only way through is in the Hog's Head. I know we will see you soon. Godspeed." With a final nod, the cat vanished.
Rolf, who was standing nearest to the dresser, paused the cassette-player before it could start the next song, leaving the room in silence as everyone processed Minerva's words.
"So it begins," Sârbu finally murmured.
Lena turned back to Remus. "I can't go with you," she said quietly. More than anything, she wished she could. But her current situation with the Nekrosía made her too volatile to take into a battlefield.
"I know." Remus briefly kissed her on the lips. Holding her face between his hands, he whispered, "I'll come home to you. I promise."
"Of course you will," said Valeriya, walking up to them and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Because I'm not letting anything happen to you."
Lena stared at her. "You're going to fight?"
"Your brother and your nephew are probably going to be there," Remus reminded Valeriya.
"They made their choices," she said tersely. "I think I've put off making mine long enough."
"We're going too," said Maggie firmly, as Rolf stood beside her and nodded.
Kamilah, who had been exchanging looks with Markellos, Sârbu, Hedda and Theodora, stepped forward. "We all are."
Lena looked around at all of them, hardly able to believe it. "But–"
Markellos cut her off. "But nothing. This war is only happening because too many people like us said it wasn't our problem and looked away. But no more. Like the message said: it's time to take a stand."
"You could die–"
"Yes," said Sârbu, "we could. But we also might win."
Hedda put in, "And there aren't many times where winning justifies all the deaths and destruction that happens – but I think this might be one of them."
"Besides," added Theodora, with a small smile, "if you've spent as much as your life doing bad things as I have, it's kind of exciting for once to do something good. I want to know what it feels like."
Lena's gaze swept across the room once more, then she exhaled deeply. "All right. But if any of you don't make it back, I'm going to be really pissed off." She turned to Remus once again. "And when you see Harry…" She swallowed. It was happening. And although she knew that because Voldemort had taken his blood, there was a chance that sacrificing himself wouldn't kill him, there was also a chance that it would. "Just tell him…" She took a deep breath. "Oh, hell. It doesn't matter. He'll know what to do."
