Sunshine bathing her face through Hagrid's mullioned window woke Ivy the next day. She blinked against its brightness, taking a moment to figure out where she was. It didn't take long for her memories to come flooding back. First her father had showed up. She remembered looking down into the gaping hole that once had been her basement, then falling in the stream. She'd nearly frozen to death in the forbidden forest. And Hagrid had rescued her. Hagrid. She was still wrapped in his arms. Slipping out of his embrace, she turned to face him. He was snoring gently, moustache fluttering with every breath. Ivy's heart swelled with love for him as she studied his features. She sat beside him for nearly an hour, cross-legged on the patchwork quilt, leaning forward to caress the place where his beard began to sprout on his cheeks, then pulling back for fear she would wake him. She didn't want to wake him, didn't want to be dragged out the back door and sent on her way, like she had been last time. So she sat. And watched over the one who owned her heart.
He woke with a start, just as she'd worked up the nerve to allow her fingers into his beard. She pulled back in surprise when his eyes flew open. They were still full of worry, until they saw Ivy sitting by his side.
"Yeh a'right, then, Ivy?" he asked groggily, clearing his throat.
Ivy nodded, watching his eyes as they slid down her neck to the shoulder exposed by her nightshirt's droopy collar.
"You saved my life again," she murmured.
Hagrid closed his eyes and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Ivy imagined herself slipping back under the covers beside him, thanking him properly for pulling her out of the snow bank. Her eyes closed and a sigh escaped her, but she held back, still determined to hang on to this moment, sure any sudden moves would remind Hagrid that he didn't love her. Then he'd send her away again. She knew her heart wouldn't endure it.
Finally Hagrid spoke up. "I'll take yeh back teh Hogsmeade, when yer ready."
"When I'm ready?" Ivy gave a soft little laugh. "Then go back to sleep. I'll never be ready. I want to stay right where I am."
Hagrid turned to look at her. "I tol' yeh before Ivy...."
"I know. You don't love me anymore. I didn't forget. You said there's something you can't put me through. Is it worse than what I'm going through right now? If I've lost you, then I've lost everything."
He sighed and rolled away from her, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
"Don't go," Ivy whispered. She maneuvered herself behind him, bringing her hands up to massage his massive shoulders. He sighed heavily at her touch, then turned to grab her hands.
"It won't work," he said, voice thick with emotion. "I can't let yeh stay here wi' me. I tole yeh once a'ready."
She gave a high laugh, pulling her hands out of his grasp. "Yes, I remember. Everything's better off with its own kind. You told me that a long time ago. Only you're a hypocrite. You didn't stay with the giants."
"It's because a the giants I have ter let yeh go," Hagrid shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "It's better'n me hurtin' yeh later."
"What? Hurting me now?" she pushed.
"Yeh can't unn'erstan' this Ivy. I seen what I could become, an' yer better off wi'out me."
"Better off believing pigs don't fly?"
He gave her a funny look.
"When we first met and you told me about the hippogriffs, remember? I told you the Muggle version of how they came to be. 'Jungentur jam grypes equis'. To cross griffins with horses. An impossibility. Like when pigs fly. Or when Squibs live among magical people. Only I've seen a hippogriff, Hagrid. You talked me into riding one. And I really believed -"
The noise of someone pounding on the door interrupted Ivy's speech. She sank into the corner, pulling the nightshirt up over her shoulder. The pounding came again, ever more insistent.
"It's him," Ivy managed in a very small voice. "He's come to get me. To send me away. Please, Hagrid. Please. Let me stay here with you."
Hagrid rose silently to his feet and pulled a shirt on.
"If he takes me away I can never come back," Ivy pleaded. "I'll never see you again."
"An' that's fer the best," Hagrid told the far wall, resolutely.
"I don't believe you." Ivy began shaking again. Only this time her shivers had nothing to do with the cold. Now voices could be heard outside the door, demanding to be allowed inside. She could hear her father and great-grandfather calling out her name.
"I'm lettin' em in," Hagrid croaked. "Yeh best be gettin' dressed."
Ivy felt as though she'd been hit by a freight train. She'd come to her most desperate hour, and the one she loved most in the world was deserting her. Nearly as numb as she'd been when Hagrid dragged her out of the snow, she bent to gather up her clothes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Within the hour she boarded a magical coach and set off for London with Augustus and her Gray-Grand. By nightfall she and all her belongings were tucked away in a third floor bedroom in the Ollivander mansion. But it had only taken one moment of silence from Hagrid to seal her heart in ice even while it beat frantically in her chest. That one moment, when she'd stood between him and her father. Augustus had asked her to come home, and Hagrid hadn't asked her to stay. Amazingly, she managed to remain dry-eyed through the whole episode. Even when she'd planted one last kiss on Hagrid's shaggy cheek. Even as she'd inhaled his scent to memorize forever.
Tears came later, as she sank into her childhood bed. They accompanied her as she reacquainted herself with her home. They frequently interrupted her meals, conversations and sleep, stealing down her cheeks when she least expected them. She lost weight. Dark smudges appeared under her eyes. And every day she waited. Waited for the moment her father would present her with another one way ticket to live among Muggles. She knew he'd bring the subject up every time he entered a room, but as weeks turned into a month and he hadn't mentioned it, she began to wonder what sort of future he had planned for her.
In a delayed reaction to her bout with hypothermia, Ivy came down with a terrible head cold. She took to her bed, surprised when her father took over her care, bringing her soup and magazines to read. He even took out a subscription to the Daily Prophet and had it delivered to her window every morning.
Without meaning to, Ivy began to look forward to his visits. While she sat propped in her bed, sneezing and blowing her nose, he read to her. Whether it was the newspaper or letters from Rosmerta or Professor Dumbledore, it didn't seem to matter. He insisted on staying with her, to the point that one afternoon she finally asked him why.
"Making up for lost time, reckon," he told her. Their eyes locked for a long moment. "Ivy..." he began. He struggled as he tried to continue.
"There's so much I need to say to you. But I'm afraid."
"So am I," Ivy admitted, picking nervously at her blankets.
"You're afraid?" Augustus asked. "Of what?"
"You are planning on sending me off again, aren't you?" she asked in a hollow voice. "I'm just a little nervous about where I'm headed this time. You tried the States, Australia.... What's next?"
Augustus covered his face with one hand, reaching for his daughter with the other. "I have no plans to send you away from me again," he muttered, rubbing his brow.
Ivy bent to peer at him. "You're crying...."
"I have a lot to apologize for," he said, wiping his eyes. "It's time for us to be honest with each other, Ivy. When I learned that you'd been in hiding for nearly four years.... Hiding from me."
"I tried very hard to keep my condition a secret, Father," she told him matter-of-factly. "I did my best to keep our name clean."
Augustus gave her a funny look.
"I thought that was why you sent me away," Ivy explained.
"I sent you away to protect you," Augustus insisted. "From You-Know-Who."
"Because I'm a Squib...."
"Ivy," Augustus stopped her. He raked a hand through his hair. Ivy could sense the struggle going on inside him. He seemed to want to tell her something, but lacked the power to do it.
"I sent you away because I knew I couldn't protect you. Haven't you ever wondered why I haven't gone into the family business? Why I left that to your mother? Why do you think I work in the Muggle Artifacts department with Arthur Weasley? Not because you're a Squib, Ivy. Because I am."
A small gasp escaped Ivy's chest as she studied her father.
"You can't be..." she murmured in disbelief. "You went to Hogwarts. That's where you met Mum. You've got magic...."
"I barely made it through Hogwarts. If Elana hadn't helped me with my studies...."
Ivy looked at her father in a brand new light.
"That's why your mother went along with me sending you away. To keep my secret. Not yours."
"Well. At least you didn't kill her."
Augustus Ollivander studied his daughter for a long moment. The longer he stared at her, the more she began to wonder if perhaps he didn't believe her.
"That was my honor, remember?"
Augustus shook his head. "I remember things a bit differently, I guess. Would you like to see her things?"
Ivy nodded.
"Everything's been kept in the attic," Augustus said as Ivy threw off her blankets. "I have to warn you though, we're haunted."
Ivy laughed. "Haunted?"
"It's not a joke," he insisted. "The whole place is... well. You know."
"Ghosts? Really, Father?"
Augustus led her out of her room and up a vast staircase. Looking back, he continued. "The attic especially. I don't really stay here that much anymore. I've a cot in my office...."
"It's that bad?" Ivy asked, amazed. She knew that ghosts roamed the grounds of Hogwarts freely, but had never come face to face with one.
Augustus gave a short laugh. "Ghosts aren't the only thing haunting this old place," he admitted. "Memories are much worse than ghosts when you're here by yourself, believe me."
They turned down a carpeted hallway, where he pulled open a narrow wooden door. An even narrower staircase led upward, turned right, then up again. Ivy began to sneeze three steps from the top landing. Dust and cobwebs made it hard for her to breathe. She leaned forward, clutching the back of her father's robes as he pushed open another small door.
Light filtered through cracks in the walls and ceiling, here. They striped the floor with bars of silver. As Ivy's eyes adjusted to their dim surroundings, she began to notice shapes. There were wardrobes and trunks, and odd shapes covered with sheets. Pieces of antique furniture; mirrors, headboards and mismatched chairs stood like casually dispatched sentries, all over the little room. Augustus reached for a ring of keys that hung on a peg on the back of the door. Selecting a key, he bent and opened one of the larger trunks.
The scent of musty fabric and dust assaulted Ivy's already distressed respiratory system. She sneezed, causing a fresh puff of dust to rise from the trunk lid.
"Are those Mum's dresses?" she asked, wiping her nose.
Augustus nodded. He drew a heavy hunter green traveling robe off the top of the stack. It was done in crushed velvet and embellished with a pattern of English roses.
"Beautiful," Ivy breathed.
"This is all hers," Augustus said. "I didn't feel right getting rid of anything. Not until you could look...."
Ivy looked up at him. He'd changed since the last time she'd seen him. He was no longer the portly, cold-eyed man she remembered from when she was a child. He'd lost weight, for one thing, and it seemed to Ivy that he'd shrunken somewhat. When she looked into his eyes now, they were open, and hopeful. As she studied him, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
"I don't expect you to forgive me, Ivy," he said, in a sudden display of emotion. "But at least, if you can't stay here, don't feel as though you have to hide from me. I...." He couldn't go on.
"Father," Ivy murmured, placing a hand on his arm. "There are things I need forgiveness for, too. If I hadn't been so cruel the last time I was here, you might've at least had Elana all these years."
"You're not responsible for the death of your mother, Ivy. That I know for certain. I was here. I watched her fade away knowing it was my fault. I broke her heart when I sent you away, but I was too stubborn.... Too prideful to admit it. All that mattered was the Ollivander name. No one could know that you were a .... " He stopped, unwilling to brand his daughter with such a shameful label.
"If they found about you, they'd find out about me, and I could not have that. Do you know how much mechanization I've been through, just to keep my secret?"
Ivy laughed. "That's one thing we have in common. One more thing, I suppose." She sat down on a trunk and wiped at her nose with a tissue. "Let's see. We both blame ourselves for Mother's passing. We're both... you know," she managed a smile. "And we're both alone."
"Not any more," Augustus said. "You can stay here as long as you want to, Ivy. This is your home, not just mine. I hope you'll stay. At least long enough for me to show you I've changed. I'm not someone you have to hide from, anymore."
Ivy sighed. There was much for her to think about. Sensing this, Augustus bowed.
"I'm going to go on downstairs for a while. These things are better explored alone, at first." He spread his arms out, indicating the trunks and trappings that surrounded them. "See you for tea?"
Ivy nodded. "Or sooner, if the ghost shows up," she joked.
"All right then." Augustus kissed the top of his daughter's head, then disappeared through the door. Ivy began sorting through the open trunk. None of her mother's clothes were familiar.
"You should look in that wardrobe," Ivy heard a voice speak inside her head. At least it seemed as though that's where it came from. There was no one else around who could have spoken.
"Ghosts," Ivy shuddered, pulling open the wardrobe door. A doll fell out, landing with a thud at Ivy's feet.
"Now you I remember," she exclaimed, bending down to scoop the doll off the floor. It was a blonde, with blue eyes that opened and closed. She had a tiny wooden wand clutched in one hand, a miniature broomstick in the other. Ivy positioned it carefully on top of the wardrobe. Peering inside, she saw a row of little frilly dresses. Satins and silks, each decorated with yards of lace. There were blue ones and burgundies, lavenders and pinks. Ivy gasped when she realized whose they were.
"These are all mine."
She pulled one out and held it up to herself. It was a rust and rose colored ensemble she remembered wearing on many occasions.
"You wore that one when we saw Charlie Weasley off to Hogwarts, remember?"
Ivy whirled around, and then she saw it. Or rather, saw her. The Ghost that haunted The Mansion. Elana Ollivander.
"Mum!" Ivy exclaimed, dropping the dress. She took a step forward before realizing that the woman before her was an apparition.
"Ivy," Elana smiled. "I've been waiting for you to get here. What took you so long?"
"I...." Ivy faltered. "I didn't know."
Elana gave a laugh, and the sound of it flooded her daughter with memories. "My baby," the silver specter whispered.
"So it's you who's been haunting this place," Ivy grinned. "I expect Father doesn't know that."
"I'm not really here to see Augustus," Elana admitted. "I had all the time I needed to finish my business with him. But not with you, my little Ivy. Unfinished business. That's all that keeps me here, really."
"Mama," Ivy managed, gazing up at the ghost. Even in death her mother was as full of life as Ivy remembered. "I'm so sorry for all those things I said to you that last day. I never, ever thought they'd make you...." She caught her breath, afraid to go on.
"You did not make me die, Ivy Elizabeth." Elana Ollivander's ghost stomped her foot, in a gesture that anyone who'd known Ivy for long would have found familiar.
"Augustus didn't make me die. I died because something went wrong. Something inside. Something no doctor or wizard has yet learned to fix. I've learned a few things about death since last I saw you, love. And one of those things is that we're all appointed a day to die. If you had been here, if you had been the most magical witch this side of history, my day would have remained the same. You're day is appointed, too, although I hope it's in the very distant future. And I will remain here, on this side, until you decide to believe that. You're my unfinished business, Ivy. I can't leave here until I know that you know it wasn't your fault."
Ivy's eyes welled up with tears. "But I should never have told you those things."
"I should never have let Augustus send you away."
"He said he wanted to protect me."
"Ivy," Elana stopped her. "Protect you from what? I think we've all learned we could have withstood anything, together, as a family. We just learned it too late. But if we truly understand, we won't repeat the mistake again. Heaven knows we've all paid the price for our lessons. Now tell me.... What about you? Your life, love. Have you given your heart to someone? Any plans to continue our family?"
Ivy gave a little smile, but shook her head. "Not yet."
"No one?" Elana pressed.
"Well, I...." She thought about Hagrid, and realized that in pushing her away from him, he was making the same mistake her family had made. Not understanding that together they were stronger than any adversity that came their way. She wondered if a conversation with a ghost could change his mind, and a new light of hope found its old place in Ivy's eyes.
"Do you remember Hogwart's Gamekeeper? Rubeus Hagrid?"
Elana swooped closer to her daughter. "Rubeus?" she grinned. "Oh, Ivy. You always were drawn to things larger than life. I thought you and Charlie would make such a good match, though. Too bad for Molly."
Ivy spent the rest of the afternoon with her mother. As the room darkened, torches magically sputtered to life around the room. Together, Ivy and Elana dug through every trunk, uncovered every piece of furniture, examined every portrait in the attic. And as night bloomed, and the room turned chill, Ivy knew her time with Elana was drawing to a close. Her mother had given her the most precious of gifts in their afternoon together. Forgiveness. And now Ivy knew it was time to let her mother go.
"How's Gray-Grand, Ivy?" Elana asked.
"He's as wonderful as always. He bought me a house in Hogsmeade. But turned out I couldn't keep it. They tore it down, but I still have this." She reached into the pocket of her dressing gown and pulled out the piece of wallpaper Charlie had conjured for her bedroom, so long ago.
"It's lovely," Elana smiled. She reached out and ran her hand through Ivy's hair. Although Ivy couldn't feel her touch, she did sense a strange cold thrill go through her.
"I love you, Mama," she whispered. "Thank you so much for today."
"Little girls shouldn't have to carry such heavy, heavy burdens," Elana spoke. "I'm very glad I waited. And now our business is finished."
The cold sensation passed through Ivy again as her mother's ghost embraced her.
"Will I ever see you again, Mum?" Ivy asked, wiping her eyes.
"Yes!" Elana crowed, floating toward the ceiling. "I do believe you will." Then she swept through the air, through the trunks, through Ivy. "Look in their eyes and you'll see me, sweet Ivy. The little ones. And name the second after me."
And then she was gone, swept up through the roof with a great puff of wind that blew Ivy's hair about her face. And Ivy turned and fled the attic, bursting with the excitement of telling her father why she hadn't shown up for tea.