October 30, 1998
Calandra wrote a letter to Harry and a letter to Neville. She didn't meet with either of them, or anyone else, before she undertook the endeavor. She didn't want anyone to try to talk her out of it, or to offer assistance. If she succeeded everyone would know soon enough. If she didn't, she didn't want anyone blaming themselves for it. She settled her affairs, wrote her love down on paper, sealed the parchment with their names, and went to work.
Her first stop was Diagon Alley to get a new wand. As she opened the door to Ollivanders, she went back in time to when she was a girl coming here with her mother. Calandra peered around the dusty shelves of boxes and waited for the old wizard to appear. Soon enough, a familiar face peered at her around the corner of a shelf.
"Hello, there." Mr. Ollivander said. "What can I do for you today? In for a repair?"
"No." Calandra said with a smile. "I'm here to buy a wand."
"Well, then." Mr. Ollivander's eyes widened with excitement. "Let's get hop to it."
He walked over to the counter and pulled a quill out of an inkpot.
"Tell me a bit about yourself, dear." Mr. Ollivander said, peering down at his parchment. "What is your name?"
"Calandra White." She said, watching and waiting for him to recognize her.
Mr. Ollivander nodded, and Calandra saw that he'd made it all the way to her surname before his quill paused. He looked up at her and back down at the name, then laid his quill to the side. Mr. Ollivander stepped down from the box he stood on and walked around the counter. He peered at Calandra for a long while before he spoke.
"I knew it." He said finally, clapping his hands together. "Eight and a half inches. Unicorn hair and pine."
Calandra smiled.
"You don't seem very surprised to see me Mr. Ollivander."
"I admit I thought it most curious to read of your passing in the Prophet. I always wondered if perhaps we should've tried a few more wands. But I see plainly that the wand chose correctly. Pine, my dear. Pine has a sense for longevity."
"Well, I'm sad to say that my old wand is long gone." Calandra said. "Do you think a new one will pick me?"
Mr. Ollivander stroked his chin and studied her for a moment.
"I am quite certain of it. The wand picks the witch, does it not? And I daresay you are not the same witch that came into my shop all those years ago. It stands to prove that a new wand will find its home in your hand."
Calandra nodded her agreement and stood to the side as Mr. Ollivander climbed a ladder and pulled down two different wand boxes. He set them on the counter and bent down to the lowest shelf to retrieve another.
"I don't think it will be as simple as the first go-round." He said, standing up straight.
"No, I'm probably a bit more complicated now." Calandra smiled.
Mr. Ollivander waved a hand through the air and shook his head.
"Oh, no, dear." He reached for another box. "That's not my meaning at all. You showed extraordinary skill when you came into my shop almost thirty years ago. I've no doubt you could cast spells with any of these wands."
He sat a pile of dusty boxes on the counter and coughed.
"The real question is; which wand is the wand."
Calandra watched as he opened a box. He held the wand up to her and raised a brow. She took it and felt magic hum in her veins. She conjured a top hat and handed to Mr. Ollivander with a flourish. He smiled and perched the hat on his head but held his hand out for the wand. She pulled a face and gave it back; it didn't feel right. Mr. Ollivander replaced the wand in its box and held another up to his eye. He studied it and handed it to her. This time she transfigured a quill into a feather duster. She handed the wand back to Mr. Ollivander before he even reached for it; it wasn't the right one either.
She went through three more wands, testing their compatibility, growing a bit disheartened. Mr. Ollivander gave her a curious look before opening the next box on the pile. He balanced the wand across his finger, then presented it to her. She took it in her hand and felt herself come alive. It fit in her palm like it was made specifically for her hand. She gripped it and cast it upwards. Flowers rained down from the ceiling. She smiled and sent sparks flying through the air.
This was the one.
Mr. Ollivander held the box out to her and moved to the counter. He studied her with a curious expression before tapping the box in front of her.
"A hair bigger than you had before." He said. "Nine inches. Phoenix feather and elder. Quite the combination."
Calandra studied the wand in her hand. Mr. Ollivander continued talking.
"I spent three months on this one." He said. "I'm glad to see it's found a home with you."
"Thank you, sir." Calandra said, counting out coins. "I'll take great care with it."
Mr. Ollivander nodded at her and they said their goodbyes. Calandra stepped back out onto the street with her new wand clutched in her hand feeling exactly like she did so many years ago, like the whole world lay before her. She set her shoulders and strode down the pavement to purchase all the other items she needed.
Calandra spent two sacks of galleons on seven feet of canvas made out woven unicorn hair. She needed all the magic she could muster for this and was taking no chances. She stopped in Wiseacres Wizarding Equipment and bought every color of paint they had. All different shades of pink, derived from Horklump skin, greens made from the tentacles of Flitterbloom, reds made from Hippocampus scales and Witch's Ganglion, blue made from the shells of sapphire fire crabs and Billywig wings, and so many others. She got two paintbrushes with bristles of puffskein hair and handles made of yew. She stayed up through the night and brewed the potions she needed to make the painting move. When they were finished, she mixed them directly into the paint.
Then Calandra took a deep breath and painted.
October 31, 1998
She sang the incantations as she painted. Poured out every single bit of magic that she had into the strokes of the brushes. She'd never focused so hard on anything in her life, willing the incantation to work. She painted tirelessly for hours, never stopping to do anything more than take a sip of tea or water to wet her throat so she could continue saying the spell.
Layer upon layer of paint covered the canvas as she painted late into the night. Calandra didn't skip a single detail. Every single hair on his head, every single scar, right down to the tattoos that darkened his skin. She saved the finishing details of his eyes for last. Calandra knew that if she could look up into them, she'd be distracted, and she couldn't afford distractions.
Calandra mixed a drop of unicorn blood into a spot of gray paint on the back of her hand. It shimmered, then lit up and Calandra smiled. She took her paintbrush and carefully added the color to the canvas. She felt a tear spill down her cheek as she gazed into his eyes. Those beautiful grey eyes. The eyes she always got right.
Calandra took a step back and stared at him.
Sirius.
He was bold and handsome and wonderful, staring out of the canvas, just as she remembered him. She had no idea if it would work. Had no idea if he'd even choose it if it did work, but she had to try. If it didn't work, Harry could take the portrait.
She grasped the wand in her hand and said the incantation. She breathed into the tip of the wand and stepped forward. Gently, Calandra tapped the wand to the spot on the canvas where she painted Sirius's mouth and repeated the words once more. She stepped back and waited.
The painting shimmered, which was to be expected with any sort of magic infused art. She watched light glitter its way through the different colors and held her breath. It had to work. It had to. She stared at Sirius's eyes, holding her breath, not daring to move a muscle.
He blinked. Her heart froze. He blinked again and shook his hair back. Calandra stepped forward and held onto the frame surrounding the canvas. She swallowed as she took him in. He looked at her, his eyes studied her, and then he smiled.
"Hi there. How are you?" she asked.
"It's been a long time." he grinned.
She choked out a laugh that suddenly turned into a sob.
"It's you!"
"Who did you expect? The Queen?" he smirked at her.
"I missed you. So much. I'm so sorry. I love you."
"I know." he said kneeling down in the portrait. "I know. I love you."
Calandra laughed through her tears.
"It worked!"
She shook her head and closed her eyes. Please don't let this be a dream. Please be real. Please. PLEASE. Let him be real. She opened her eyes and there he was still, looking out at her from the painting.
"You're here! It worked!" she sobbed.
"What worked?" he asked tilting his head to the side. "Where are you? Why are you there? You should've been here, Cal! You died!"
She shook her head.
"I've been in St. Mungo's. I just got out."
"What?" he breathed, his eyes wide. "Cal, I had no….I'm so sorry. I would've never-"
"I know." she cut him off. "I know. It's ok. I'm ok. Because it worked!"
"Right, you said that. What worked?"
Here it goes. The hard part.
"I've been reading a few new books on the subject of magical paintings." She said, trying to stop crying. "I found references in the book you gave me for my birthday, to other texts that spoke of ancient magic that would bring paintings to life."
He nodded and she went on.
"We always thought they meant make the paintings reflect the life of the subject and give them characteristics and mannerisms of the people. Make them move and stuff. But that's only part of it."
She smiled, remembering her hope when she figured it out.
"It was a guide on how to actually bring the paintings to life."
He looked incredulous.
"That's not possible." He said. "You can't bring people back from the dead. Magic can't reach that far."
She shook her head.
"We can't bring people back from the dead. You're right. But there are ways to bring people back to this side of life. You're more than just a magical painting, even you should be able to tell that."
"You could come back. Really. If it works, you can come back and live here if you want to. I'll explain everything to you, give you all the details, but that's it in a nutshell. You could come back."
He didn't speak, so she began.
"I found it in a children's story." She laughed through her tears. "Then read back over the books I had. It's pretty rare to ever happen. The most recent instance I could find was mentions of it in a poem of an Irish witch in 1659. A mother followed the Fae into Saolbás to get her child back."
"The shadow realm was beyond the veil, so they were always thought to be as good as dead. But they never actually died on earth. Just like you."
His eyes grew wide.
"I found two instances of similar things happening. Mothers going after shadow creatures to get to their children. It makes a lot of sense that the ones able to pull it off were mothers. There are so many aspects of the ancient magic, it's incredibly difficult."
"Like what?"
"First off, you have to know the subject. Really know them. Know them inside and out. Only knowing someone so completely can allow you to reach them through the veil."
"And you did it with me?" he asked softly.
"I could do it with you." she nodded. "I know you better than myself. Every sodding inch of you."
He shot her a devilish smirk.
"You also have to share magical bond with them. Share an element of the ancient magic to tie yourself to them. I've found a few different magical bonds, but the most common is blood."
"We're not related, though." Sirius shook his head.
"No," she agreed. "But you bonded our magic when you gave me your memories. Your magic and my magic coincided for years and bonded. I didn't realize that could happen."
"What else?" he asked softly.
"You either have to follow them through the veil and find them, or you have to create them. From nothing." She said. "I couldn't get to you through the veil. I tried, but I couldn't get in. So, I painted you."
"That part shouldn't come as a surprise. I've been painting you in my mind for the past two decades." Calandra smiled and rubbed her nose.
"You tried to pass through the veil?" he asked, eyes wide.
"I did." She nodded. "I asked Harry to show me where you died. It was protected; shielded to where I couldn't pass through."
"You brave, stupid, beautiful thing." Sirius placed his hand against the canvas where her head was. She felt warmth radiate from the canvas.
"I still don't know a lot about it all. It's so rare. I was lucky to find what I did, and you need to know everything before you decide. All the uncertainties."
"What don't you know?"
"I painted you the way I remember you. You're in your early twenties. If you decide to exist here, I don't know if you'll be twenty-something when you get here or if you'll age forward. I don't know what will happen since I didn't paint you as you were when you passed through the veil. I don't know if me painting you, a version of you that did live and did exist, is enough. It might not be."
He nodded.
"I don't know what it's like where you are. I don't know if you're a soul or a person or what on that side of the veil. If James and Lily and Remus and your Mum are there, you may want to stay and that's fine. I don't mind if you do." She said fervently.
"But if you do come to this side, I don't know if you'll remember that side. I don't know how the magic of the veil works with consciousness."
He ran a hand through his hair and held his chin in his hand, nodding.
"I don't know how long you'll have here. It's half of the rest of my life, I know that, but I don't know how long it is."
He looked confused. "Half your life?"
"That's another reason it's so rare; not many people want to give half their life to someone else." She said with a smile.
His head jerked up. "Half of your life? That's the breath of life? You gave up half of your life for this."
"Only if you choose to come to this side." She lied. Calandra was pretty sure half her life was gone the moment she said the spell. "You can always choose to stay. And if you do choose to stay, there's only one thing I want to ask of you."
He waited to hear what she said.
"Let me come, too." She begged.
"What?" he breathed.
"This painting acts as something like a magical doorway. You can choose to come to this side. You take my hand, the hand of the person that is breathing life, and you can exist here. But if you don't want to, please Sirius, let me come to you."
He knelt down until they were eye to eye.
"You're telling me that I can live again." He said reverently.
She nodded.
"You're telling me that I can live again. That I can spend my life with you. That I can watch over Harry and breathe fresh air and hold you in my arms and kiss you. And you think there's a chance I'd say no?"
"I told you, I don't know what happens if you choose this side. We may only have a year together. You may want to stay with James. What if you stay twenty forever while I continue to age? I don't know so many things." She babbled.
"Look at me, Cal."
She looked up into those beautiful grey eyes.
"I'll take any amount of time you'll give me."
She swallowed thickly.
"Everything on this side will be waiting for me again someday. For us."
Tears flowed down Calandra's cheeks.
"And…let me tell you, love. Looking at you now, I think I may be developing a thing for witches older than me."
Calandra laughed. Always the jokester, he was.
"There's no going back from this." She said, running a finger across his face, wishing she could feel his skin instead of canvas. "You've got to be absolutely sure."
"You, of all people, should know by now. I'm serious." He winked at her.
"Sirius or serious?" she smiled.
"Both." He stood up tall and reached out a hand.
She stood up and stared at him.
"I love you." he said, his voice ringing loud and sure.
"I love you." she said.
Then Calandra plunged her hand into the painting.
