Chapter 11: The Missing Evans Girl
As was her custom on Friday evenings, Sarah Lindsay sharply rapped on Isabelle's window. She hated spending any more time with her mother than humanly necessary, and today was no exception. Freaked out by the impending holidays, her mother Linda was far more concerned with how to afford whatever gadget her current boyfriend wanted than anything for her daughter. Not that this was a new thing. Since she could remember, Sarah Lindsay felt more like a burden to her partying, self-obsessed mother.
However, she was not in the mood to listen to her mother's harangue about being poor for the hundredth time that week, so she impatiently knocked on her best friend's window, then let herself inside. Something felt off immediately. No one was home. She didn't expect for Severus to be there; usually he left for New York City on Friday afternoon and returned Sunday evening. But, where was Isabelle?
She padded through the apartment, into the hallway, and knocked on the boys' apartment door. After a minute, a stressed-out Phillip opened the door, grunting some sort of greeting as she walked inside. Books, piles of notes and empty drink cans completely covered the living room floor. She carefully navigated through the room, deciding to stand in the hallway instead.
"Exams next week?" Sarah Lindsay asked, surprised. She hadn't heard a thing about it from Thomas; then again, he probably had no clue when the fall semester exams began.
"Unfortunately," Phillip replied, flipping through a particularly large dog-eared pile of notes. "Between soccer and school, I think William and Mary is trying to kill me. I have a paper due Monday, an exam Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, some soccer thing Thursday night, and then some more crap the next week that I don't want to think about. How are you? If you're looking for my brother, I have no idea where he is or what he's doing. I think my sister's Christmas shopping with Mom."
"I'm looking for neither. Actually, I think Thomas said something earlier about going to the library, but I don't even think he knows where it is. So, he'll be gone for a nice long while," she remembered.
"The library? You're kidding me."
"The world's ending, huh? I don't guess you'd know if Isabelle went shopping with Brit, would you?"
Phillip looked up from his marketing textbook, and thought for a second. "You know you're asking the wrong person if you want to track down Isabelle. Even if she was tagging along with Brit, I wouldn't know about it. Sorry."
"No biggie. Just thought that I'd ask. Her apartment's empty, and I feel bad about staying there when no one's home. Mind if I crash here for a while?" she asked hopefully.
"Nope. As long as you don't try to put me in a better mood. I hate overly cheerful people, especially during exams," he grumped.
Sarah Lindsay raised an eyebrow. "Will do."
-----
Isabelle drew her cloak tighter around her face as she entered the International Floo Station. A nervous twinge settled in her stomach while she waited in the line, which was especially long due to the holiday season. She'd never traveled further than from Dover to London by Floo before, and had no idea what to expect. When she and Severus first came to America, they used Muggle transport on the outside chance that someone would recognize them.
She tightly gripped her small carry-on bag, remembering her earlier conversation with Jake. And why she was running away in the first place. Utterly sick of her whole life, Isabelle wanted to get away, to be on her own.
She was seventeen years old, and ready to make her way in life. So what if she wasn't a fully qualified witch? The wizarding world held painful memories for her, anyway, so spending some time as a Muggle would be therapeutic.
At least that's what she told herself as the line slowly moved forward. Finally, she reached the enormous fireplace, and gingerly sat in a tall, wing-backed chair in the middle of the hearth. The Floo attendant asked for her paperwork in a bored tone of voice, and Isabelle held her breath as he checked everything over.
"Where to, ma'am?" he asked, handing her back her passport. She breathed a sigh of relief.
"London, England," she replied confidently.
The attendant nodded, picked up the appropriate container of Floo powder from the mantle, and sent Isabelle on her way. She disappeared in a loud bang and puff of orange smoke, reappearing in Diagon Alley a minute later. Disoriented, she stumbled into the familiar street and grinned broadly. She was home.
Well, as home as she dared to get. While she knew the way to her family's estate in Dover, she didn't dare to visit. Two months ago, she overheard Professor Dumbledore tell Severus that Petunia was searching for the hidden property. Isabelle assumed that her sister planned to sell the estate to the Muggle government for a hefty profit; her childhood home was a prime piece of real estate and would fetch a hefty sum of money.
But, London felt much more familiar to the teenager than Williamsburg, or anywhere else in America, for that matter. She spent the night hours wandering up and down the streets, ducking into her favorite stores, and generally soaking up the atmosphere. Not until she practically collapsed on a bench from exhaustion did she realize how homesick she truly was.
The clocks in a nearby jewelry store chimed midnight. Set to American time, Isabelle wasn't tired in the slightest, and continued sightseeing until around three or so in the morning. Feeling bold, she checked into the Leaky Cauldron. She assumed that no one would be looking for her. But, part of her wanted someone to care, and to try to find her. So, she didn't go to an extreme effort to hide herself.
-----
Around midnight, Jake found Thomas at a secluded table in Swem Library on campus. Despite his agitation over his argument with Isabelle, the sight of Thomas actually reading threw his lifelong friend for a momentary loop. Jake closed his eyes, deciding that the earth had been thrown off its axis and that the would could very well be ending.
"I didn't know you wore glasses," Jake commented, trying to figure out how to bring up the subject of Isabelle running off.
"Um-hum," he said, not looking up from his textbook. "Got them mid-semester."
"What are you doing?"
"Studying," Thomas replied, sounding exactly like Phillip.
"Since when do you care about school?"
"Since I met a girl that I'm trying to impress. It's the Spence way. Slack off, score absurdly high on standardized tests so we get into a nice, prestigious college, have Mom yell at us for being slackers. Then, we meet a girl who changes everything and we straighten up."
"She means that much to you?" Jake asked incredulously. Thomas never took anything seriously, so this was a complete turnaround. With Phillip, at least he was always disciplined when it came to soccer.
"Yes, Sarah Lindsay means that much to me," Thomas said, looking his friend straight in the eyes. "I never understood my brother until recently. I fell pretty bad for ragging on him for his crush on the Evans girl. Figures that I'd do almost the exact same thing, even the younger girl bit. Anyway, I'm crazy about your sister, and I'm trying to impress her by getting my life together. Got a problem with that?"
"It's just weird."
"What, scared that I'll show you up?" He grinned, knowing how competitive his best friend was about everything. Jake frowned instantly.
"No."
"Sure," Thomas drawled, gathering his books together since the library was closing shortly. "So, what's up?"
Jake decided that the truth was the best option at this point. "Well, you know how Phillip thinks that our Isabelle is Isabelle Evans?"
"I never said my brother's sane," Thomas joked, as they left the library and walked into the crisp December air.
"He's right."
Thomas stopped, and looked at Jake like he'd suddenly sprouted wings. "Say what?"
"Yeah. When I tried to talk to Isabelle about it, she freaked out and ran away. I looked for her around town, but obviously haven't found her. The guy at the International Floo Station says that he thinks that someone who fits Isabelle's description was at the station earlier. I had him check the logs, and if that's her, she left for London around four o'clock, our time."
"Your ass is toast," Thomas said disbelievingly. "If Phillip doesn't kill you, and trust me, he will, Sarah Lindsay will rip you apart. Is that why you're talking to me? Do you honestly think that I'll take your side against both of them?"
"You're my best friend."
"You screwed up, big time. How are you sure this is the right girl, anyway? She could be lying."
"No one is that good of a liar. Help me think of a plan to find Isabelle."
"Other than going to London to find her? Good luck finding her on her home turf. If I was you, I'd disappear before Phillip figures out that you lost his girl," Thomas smirked.
She's not his girl, Jake thought angrily. "Thanks for the support."
"Anytime."
When the two reached their apartment, Jake seriously considered heading to his father's house instead, but a well-placed anti-Apparation charm from Thomas prevented him from doing so. Jake didn't realize his friend's magical skill was so advanced, and filed that piece of information away in his brain for later use. Thomas practically shoved him into the living room.
"Hey," Sarah Lindsay said, completely engrossed in It's a Wonderful Life. She made a disgusted snort when Thomas crossed in front of the television to sit beside her on the dilapidated sofa. "Pass me a tissue, will you?"
"You're watching this?" Thomas asked Phillip with a pursed expression. His brother looked at him blankly and then at the television.
"Didn't realize chick TV was on," he replied, dodging a hex from Sarah Lindsay. "Watch out. She's feisty tonight."
"I'm always feisty," she said sassily, flashing him a toothy grin. "Hey, Jake?"
He stopped halfway down the hallway, and turned around slowly. "Yeah?"
"Do you know where Isabelle is? She hasn't been home all night, and she isn't with Brit. Do you know if she went somewhere with Bubba for the weekend?" Sarah Lindsay innocently inquired.
"I don't know where Isabelle is," Jake answered honestly, disappearing down the hallway. Irritated, Thomas jumped up and dragged his friend back into the living room, holding him by the collar.
"Tell them," Thomas insisted.
"Tell us what?" Phillip asked, looking back and forth between his brother and Jake. "What's going on?"
Jake looked at the carpet, practically staring a hole in the thin, cheap carpeting. "I talked to Isabelle today."
"So?" Phillip shrugged, unconcerned. This was nothing new. Jake and Isabelle hung out every day after classes; in fact, most people assumed they were dating, which irritated Phillip to no undying end.
"She, uh, she overheard us Thanksgiving. When we were talking about her maybe being Isabelle Evans," Jake continued quietly, wishing that Thomas would let go of his shirt.
"Oh." Phillip dropped his pen absentmindedly. "What did she say about it?"
"To tell you that you were right. Then she got really upset and ran away," Jake said in a rush, bracing himself for the storm.
"She what!?!" Sarah Lindsay screamed, throwing the tissue box at her brother. "You just stood there and let her run off mad? Why didn't you go after her? I thought you were her friend."
"I am her friend," Jake seethed defensively. "It's not my fault that she took what I said the wrong way."
"What did you say?" Phillip asked calmly. Far too calmly for Jake's comfort level.
"Well, she was admitting all this stuff, talking about her family. I was confused; after all, she doesn't know me that well comparatively. What I wanted to ask is if she told other people who weren't trustworthy, random people, about her family. I was worried that she compromised her safety. And if she did, I wanted to know because I could talk to Dad about protecting her and stuff," he babbled, as Thomas tightened his grip on his shirt.
"What did you say?" he asked again.
"I asked how she was sure that I wouldn't run to the Ministry in London and tell them what I knew," Jake admitted, ashamed.
"And how did she reply?" Phillip's voice remained eerily cool and collected.
"Something about Sirius Black that I didn't understand. Then she ordered me to leave Bubba alone, I think. It all happened so fast. Before I could try to calm her down, she was gone. And I don't know where she went."
"You idiot!" Sarah Lindsay covered her head with her hands. "She was my best friend. I'd never had a witch for a friend before, not one who didn't really mind that I'm a–you know. You made her run away, and I'll never see her again."
Thomas let go of Jake, rushed over to her and hugged her tightly. "It's all right. You can't help who your parents are, so stop worrying about it already, 'k?"
"That's easy for you to say. I know how horrible I feel when snotty wizard people make fun of me because I'm a–you know," came her muffled voice. "Can you imagine how much it hurts Isabelle for people to talk about her family all of the time, and she can't say anything about it? If someone insults her sister, or calls that Black guy a cold-hearted murderer, she has to take it. I'd run away, too."
"I didn't mean to hurt her, Sarah Lindsay. You know how I am," Jake said pleadingly.
"Not good with words, you mean? Stubborn? Irritating? Yeah, I know exactly how you are. Funny, Isabelle was your biggest defender. And look at how you repaid her," his sister shot venomously.
"I'm sorry." He looked at Phillip apprehensively, who was in some sort of trance. Phillip looked back down at the notes for his paper, closed his book, and neatly arranged his pile of junk. He then jumped to his feet and began choking the life out of Jake, who couldn't fight back. Phillip was too strong, especially when angry.
"I'm going to kill you," he roared, knocking Jake to the ground. "No, you're not worth going to prison for. I trusted you."
"Sorry," Jake gasped, truly fearing for his life. He'd never seen Phillip lose his temper like this.
"Sorry isn't good enough. Sorry won't bring her back." He stepped back and looked at his friend. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too. Sorry I listened to you."
"Phillip--" Jake began.
"Don't even. I don't want to hear a word you have to say. And right now, I can't even stand the sight of you." Phillip Disapparated with a deafening pop, going to the only place he could think of to find her: London.
-----
With her bag slung over her shoulder, Isabelle navigated through busy Diagon Alley and into Java Jack's Coffee and Pastry Shoppe for a much-needed cup of hot chocolate. There was just something about Java Jack's hot chocolate that warmed her bones up from the inside out. And after spending the morning sightseeing and window shopping, she needed a break from the chill. Being in America for the past year had her accustomed to a much warmer climate.
After paying for her oversized mug of steaming hot chocolate, she parked herself at a window table and observed the passers-by. She recognized several of her old classmates from Hogwarts, some of Lily's old friends, and a few Ministry officials. A stab of loneliness pierced her heart as she thought of all the times she and her family had gone holiday shopping. In fact, it was James who introduced her to Java Jack's when she was a little girl.
She missed her family, and coming to London did little to heal her still-partially open wounds. But, at least here she didn't have to watch her friends interact with their families. Every time she saw Brittany talking with her mother, or joking around with her brothers, Isabelle was so jealous that she could hardly see straight. Isabelle would give anything to go out for a mother-daughter bonding trip with her mother.
Although going out with Mrs. Spence was the next best thing to her mother, or Mummy P, Isabelle admitted to herself. But, she always felt like she was imposing, a third wheel. She convinced herself that no one in Williamsburg would actually miss her, Severus least of all. Shoot, he would probably be overjoyed that Isabelle struck out on her own. That way, he could get on with his life without her tagging along. Same for everyone else. Besides, she didn't belong there. Her place was here, in England with her family.
Well, what was left of it. She stirred her hot chocolate, slowly deciding to break the unspoken rule that she was to have no contact with Harry. He was the only family she could find, the only tie she had to her former life. After all, it was Christmas, and the holiday season was supposed to be spent with loved ones, family.
With an excited grin, Isabelle finished her mug, stood up, and bundled up for the cold. For the first time in her life, she happily set off to the one place she'd never felt welcome, that no one would expect for her to go to – Number Four, Privet Drive.
-----
Isabelle was surprised to see the Dursleys' house completely quiet and dark. Although it was a Saturday night, her sister didn't usually go out, preferring to entertain guests in her own home on the weekends. Puzzled, she snuck around the side of the house to the backyard to find the spare key. It hadn't occurred to her to use magic to break into the home, perhaps because Petunia was so set against anything magical.
After searching in a few predictable locations, Isabelle found the spare key underneath a potted plant, and let herself into the kitchen. The familiar, tidy room hadn't changed a bit since she last visited in Easter of her fourth year. The only indication that time had passed at all was that the calendar on the wall read 1982, instead of 1980. It was eerie, to say the least.
Starving hungry, she opened the refrigerator and examined its contents, hoping for something that was at least edible. Petunia had bread and orange marmalade, which was better than nothing. Isabelle wolfed down four pieces of bread and three glasses of milk before even closing the refrigerator door. She then crossed the room to see if Petunia put their location on the calendar, so that she would have an idea of when to expect the Dursleys home.
"Dinner party at the Shallot's house, six to ten o'clock," Isabelle read aloud. She glanced at the clock, which read eight thirty.
On the way to the living room to watch television while waiting for her sister to come back home, she studied the photographs on the walls. Not one single photograph had herself, Lily or Harry in them. It was if none of them even existed. She and Lily were understandable, in a sick, mean sort of way. Petunia didn't get along with either of her sisters. But no pictures of a child that Petunia was raising? That seemed awfully cold, even for Petunia.
An enormous, perfectly decorated white Christmas tree dominated one whole corner of the living room. The unplugged blue lights were flawlessly arranged, as were the ornaments. The entire tree struck Isabelle as impersonal, almost sterile-looking. But, she was fond of live trees. There was nothing like the crisp, outdoorsy smell of a live Christmas tree to put her in the holiday spirit.
Curious, Isabelle plopped down in front of the tree and examined the large piles of presents. Her heart sank when she slowly realized that Harry had no presents within reach. Surely Petunia wouldn't exclude him from the family celebration, so Isabelle reached farther back. The harsh truth sank in: Petunia treated Harry with as much love and attention that she herself had received during her sister's care.
The ratting of paper woke up little Harry, who emerged from his cupboard turned bedroom to greet his family. He didn't like being left alone for long, and was incredibly lonely. No one was available to babysit him during the hectic holiday season, so Petunia told him to behave and not to leave his cupboard until they got home. Or else. But, the cupboard was dark and scary. And he was hungry. So, the little boy crept into the living room, blinking oddly.
"Aunt Is-belle?" he asked disbelievingly, staring as Isabelle's head whipped around in surprise. "Missed you."
Isabelle ran to her nephew, scooped him up, and held him tightly. "Oh, Harry, I've missed you, too. You remember me?"
"Yup," came his muffled, happy voice. "And Mummy, and Daddy, and Uncle Sir-us, and Gracie. Where are they? I miss my mummy."
"I miss your mummy, too." Isabelle fought the urge to break down in tears. She had to be strong, for Harry's sake. "But, your mummy and daddy are really dead, love. I'm so sorry."
"Oh." Harry's face fell sadly.
"But, I'm here. I know your Aunt Petunia said I was dead, but I wasn't. I had to go away for a while so that the bad people wouldn't kill me, too," Isabelle explained, hoping he would understand.
"Where did you go?" he inquired curiously, thrilled that someone was actually talking to him.
"America. All over America. It's across the ocean."
"Why?"
Isabelle snorted, which turned into a laughing fit. Harry didn't know what he did that was so funny, but was proud of himself nonetheless. "That's such a good question. I have no idea why I had to go there."
"Where's Gracie? I miss Gracie a lot. I like her better than Dudley. He's mean," Harry said, dropping his voice.
"Gracie had to go away, too. So did Uncle Sirius. They still love you, though. So do I. I love you so much, Harry. I thought about you every single day." She hugged him even tighter.
"You love me!" he screamed, throwing his little arms around her neck. "I love you, Aunt Is-belle."
For the first time, Isabelle understood why Sirius spent so much time with her all those years ago. When she looked into Harry's haunted, love-starved eyes, she imagined that she was much like him. It was a heartbreaking sight, and Isabelle knew that she couldn't leave him there, just like Sirius couldn't leave her. She had to take Harry away from this, to give him a loving environment. And a real Christmas.
-----
Armed with Petunia Dursley's address scratched on a scrap piece of parchment, and a map of England that he bought from a street vendor, Phillip ducked into the Leaky Cauldron for a cup of tea (he had no hope whatsoever for coffee) while he figured out exactly where Surrey was, and how to get there. It had taken him three hours to sift through the Muggle records to find Isabelle's sister's address. First, he had to look up Petunia's name in the birth registry, because he wasn't quite sure what it was. Then he had to find her marriage license for her married name before he could even attempt to tackle the deed books.
He got the idea that Isabelle may be with her Muggle sister, or at least try to find Harry, after he couldn't find her anywhere in the wizarding areas of Great Britain. By now, Phillip had been awake all night and day searching. Exhausted, frustrated and cold, he slumped over his steaming cup of tea and seriously considered attempting to Transfigure it into coffee. Before he could stop himself, his head landed on the table with a soft thud and he fell asleep, waking up two hours later.
"Damn it," he said, rubbing his eyes, and trying to feel at least somewhat alert.
Unrolling the map of Muggle Great Britain, Phillip was highly amused with the number of places that could also be found in Virginia. He theorized that the early colonists were simply lazy and couldn't be bothered with finding original names for new settlements. For instance, Surrey, the area he was trying to find, was the county across the river from Williamsburg. Spelled Surry, not Surrey, but still. Close enough to make Phillip roll his eyes while locating Privet Drive.
He smiled triumphantly and Disapparated, landing in the middle of a street lined with identical-looking houses. Accustomed to differing architectural styles, the cookie cutter neighborhood make him purse his lips disgustedly. Who would work themselves into the ground, just to live in a house live everyone else? Whatever happened to individualism?
"Number 10, 8, 6," he muttered, stopping in front of Number 4, Privet Drive. Now what? he thought. Do I just Apparate inside the house?
Phillip did exactly that, appearing in the middle of the thankfully empty Dursleys' kitchen. On the table, weighted down by a bowl of pomegranates, was a letter. He picked up the hastily scribbled note, heart sinking at he read its contents.
Dear Mrs. Dursley,
Thank you for taking care of your nephew, Harry, for the past year. Your services as a guardian are no longer needed as he has been placed in another home. I would've spoken to you personally about the matter, but you were not home when I called earlier this evening.
The new home is quite eager to have Harry for the holidays, so surely you understand the need for haste in removing him from your home. You needn't be bothered with him any further.
"Isabelle, what have you done?" he whispered, the note fluttering from his hands. A key in the front door lock alerted Phillip to the Dursleys' return, so he hid out of sight, curious as to what Isabelle's Muggle family was truly like.
"No, Dudders, stay away from the presents," he heard a female voice say. "All right, you can open one. Just one tonight."
Waddling, heavy footsteps sounded down the hallway, and a portly man clicked on the light. He spied the note on the table, crossed the room, picked it up, and exclaimed excitedly. Waving it in the air, he called out for his wife.
"Petunia, darling, you won't believe this. While we were at the party, someone came and put your freakish nephew with another family. Probably a family full of his kind." Vernon Dursley stroked his moustache with approval, as Petunia rushed into the kitchen, high-heels clacking her arrival.
"You're kidding me? How wonderful!" she gushed. "I wonder who came for him. The note's unsigned."
"He's better off with his kind, anyway. It's not as if we could do anything for that sister of yours, not after she got tangled up with Lily and her mates," Vernon glowered. Petunia's eyes narrowed angrily.
"Isabelle was a thorn in my side since the day she was born. Now that she's nice and dead, there's no need in mentioning her, now is there?" she seethed.
Phillip couldn't believe his ears. No wonder Isabelle came to America instead of living with her other sister. He wondered what could she have possibly done to make Petunia Dursley hate her so much. And their reaction to Harry's sudden disappearance – truly heartless, in his opinion. He didn't blame Isabelle for taking him, not one little bit.
The problem was, where would she go with a two year old? Out of ideas and energy, Phillip Apparated to his parents' house in Williamsburg, appearing on the family room sofa. He didn't want to even see Jake yet, and besides, part of him wanted his mommy, despite being a grown man. It had been a nightmarish couple of days.