Her Return

Wormtail approached Ila, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Ila to the gravestone. cut all the ropes tying her up. For the second time, she fell on the floor hard. Her head was already spinning. She fell a few times before managing to get to her feet and stay there. She looked down to see the ground move beneath her. She looked back up at the wavering circle of Death Eaters, the Sisters and Voldemort staring at her, which seemed to grow smaller. There was no point in escaping. She looked back down at her hand to see her wand.

Was there any point in fighting back?

She was surrounded. She was too tired. Her head felt like it was going to implode. What would be the point? It's not like they really needed her. The world managed to survive once when Voldemort was alive, Ila was sure they could survive another.

Besides, how was she, a fourth year that can just about summoning objects, be able to defeat –

"You have been taught how to duel. Ila Potter?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

God, she didn't even know how to…hang on…the Duelling club…at Hogwarts…if someone told her two years ago what she would be doing…

Anyway, the club didn't help. All she knew was a Disarming spell. She glanced around the circle of Death Eaters that seemed to be closing in on her.

She didn't want to fight anymore. She didn't care. She was sick and tired of worrying about…fucking everything…

"We bow to each other. Ila," Voldemort said, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Ila. "Come, the niceties must be observed. . . . Dumbledore would like you to show manners. . . . Bow to death, Ila..."

The Death Eaters were laughing again.

Voldemort's lipless mouth was smiling.

"However, there is only one person he will bow down to…You Ila must never run. You cannot run. You must look at him. You must greet him. Greet him like an old friend," Trelawny's words echoed.

"I said, bow," Voldemort said, raising his wand – and Ila felt her spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending her ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed harder than ever.

"Very good," Voldemort said softly, and as he raised his wand the pressure bearing down upon Ila lifted too. "And now you face me . . . straight-backed and proud, the way your father died. . . ."

"And now - we duel."

Voldemort raised his wand. Before Ila could do anything, a jet of blue shot through her as Voldemort yelled –

"CRUCIO!"

The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that she no longer knew where she was. . . .White-hot knives were piercing every inch of her skin, her head was surely going to burst with pain, she was screaming more loudly than she'd ever screamed in her life. And then it stopped. The world around was blurry. She moved to her side to try and push herself up but –

"Crucio!"

The pain arrived once again. It was as though someone had stabbed her before dragging the knife through the rest of her body, ripping her muscles and organs apart. She couldn't move. Her body was spasming out of control from the pain. And once more it stopped.

"You should consider yourself lucky Ila Potter," Voldemort said. "I only did it for ten minutes…"

Ila gasped when she moved her arm to try and look for her wand. Ila could see an upside-down Voldemort, with the Death Eaters behind him laughing at Ila struggling to move. Her fingers cramped up. She tried to breathe, but it hurt her lungs. She was pretty sure her voice had gone. Her fingertips could feel the familiar branch of her wand.

"Not so fast – Crucio!"

Ila screamed harder than before. Her body was already sensitive the two times before. She felt a surge of bile pour out of her mouth and her nose. It ran down her face, pooling onto the grass next to her. She couldn't control her movements. She felt like she was going to die…She wanted to die.

All of a sudden Ila the hairs on her neck standing up – even that was painful. She was more focused on going unconscious to not realise the dark figure looming over her. She was shivering, but she thought it was from the pain…

That was weird – she wasn't feeling any pain. She couldn't move but…she didn't feel anything anymore.

"You called me Ila," a whispered voice said. Ila was stuck where she was, on her side, in a foetal position. She couldn't move her head, but she could feel the presence of whatever was on top of her. She watched the yew tree sway from side to side.

"What do you mean? Who are you?" Ila thought.

"Don't be coy Ila…you know who I am…how couldn't you? I've been following you around since you were a baby…"

Death.

"Have you come to take me away?" her mouth didn't move, and yet she heard her voice echo through the graveyard. She was still staring at the puddle of vomit beside her but felt the cold wind press harder against her as Death leaned closer.

"You're time is not up now."

"Why?" The tears streaming down Ila's frozen face ."You can't do this to me. You took my parents away from me. I want to be with them. Please. I can't do this anymore."

"Your time is not up," he repeated. "We all see how much pain you are in Ila Potter, but we cannot do anything about it. Destiny cannot change your path. You are not to die here."

"That isn't fair. I'm willing to die. There aren't a lot of people that do that. Just take me away!"

"That's not how it works. You are in pain. I can feel everything that you feel Ila Potter. But you must use that pain. You will use that pain and turn it into something good."

"But what's the point? I don't live with this pain – I want it to stop, I want to go!"

"This pain that you are feeling right now – remember how much it hurts, how much you don't want to live. Your friends will feel the same way when you arrive dead at their feet. You wouldn't want anyone to feel like this Ila, I can feel it. You wouldn't even want Him to feel like this Ila. You are too good-hearted to give up now. You must push through this pain. Think of your friends, your classmates. What exactly do you think will happen if you decide to let the pain live? They'll die. They will all die a painful and slow death…tormented by their grief – unable to accept your death, constantly anxious that everyone around them would die too, bargaining for at least one more moment with you. You cannot do that to them. You are too good. I'm sorry that I cannot help you with your pain, but I'm not sorry for taking you away."

The cold wind disappeared and replacing it was the pain from the curse, crawling up her spin, up to her neck, ready to pounce onto her head when -

"A little break," Voldemort said, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, "a little pause . . . That hurt didn't it Ila? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

Ila rolled to the other side, where Death had been moments ago. The graves were moving up and down, while Ila struggled to grab onto anything to keep her steady. She was able to push herself on her elbows before falling again. She could feel Voldemort smile at the sight.

A thought surfaced in her mind, making her wonder if she was being possessed by Godric Gryffindor or by Death – could she really live with herself, knowing that her final moments in front of Voldemort were in vain? That she didn't even try?

She's defeated him twice. She could do it once more.

Ila rolled over and scrambled to her feet; she staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters and Sisters, and they pushed her away, back towards Voldemort.

"I asked you whether you want me to do that again," Voldemort said softly. "Answer me! Imperio!"

And Ila felt, for the third time in her life, the sensation that her mind had been wiped of all thought. . . .

Ah, it was bliss, not to think, it was as though he were floating, dreaming ...just answer no ... say no ... just answer no...

I will not said a stronger voice, in the back of Her head, I won't answer...

Just answer no...

I won't do it; I won't say it...

Just answer no...

"I WON'T!"

And these words burst from Ila's mouth; they echoed through the graveyard, and the dream state was lifted as suddenly as though cold water had been thrown over her - back rushed her conversation with Death - back rushed the realization of where she was, and what she was facing. . . .

"You won't?" Voldemort said quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now. "You won't say no? Ila, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die. . . . Perhaps another little dose of pain?"

Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Ila was ready; with the reflexes born of her Quidditch training, she flung himself sideways onto the ground; she rolled behind the marble headstone of Voldemort's father, and he heard it crack as the curse missed him.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Ila," Voldemort's soft, cold voice said, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. "You cannot hide from me. Does that mean you are tired of our duel? Does that mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Ila? Come out, Ila . . . come out and play, then...it will be quick...it might even be painless...I would not know...I have never died..."

Ila crouched behind the headstone and knew the end had come. There was no hope...no help to be had.

"Now, now, Ila, you mustn't think like that…I'm here to help. When I tell you to, I want you to run."

Before Voldemort could stick his snakelike face around the headstone, Ila stood up...she gripped her wand tightly in her hand, thrust it out in front of her, and threw herself around the headstone, facing Voldemort. Voldemort was ready.

Ila shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Voldemort cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Ila's - they met in mid-air - and suddenly Ila's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; her hand seized up around it; she couldn't have released it if she'd wanted to - and a narrow beam of light connecting the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold.

Ila, following the beam with her astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort's long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating. And then - nothing could have prepared Ila for this - she felt Her feet lift from the ground. She and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light.

They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort's father and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves. . . .

The Death Eaters were shouting; they were asking Voldemort for instructions; they were closing in, reforming the circle around Ila and Voldemort, while the Sisters were stuck around the cauldron, looking up at the sky –

The golden thread connecting Ila and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Ila and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now...

"Do nothing unless I command you!" Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters. Ila saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting His wand with Ila's; Ila held onto her wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken.

Her wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever...and now the beam between her and Voldemort changed too ...

It was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands - Ila felt her wand shudder her hand as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily her way...

As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Ila's wand tip, the wood beneath her fingers grew so hot she feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead moved, the harder Ila's wand vibrated; she was sure her wand would not survive contact with it; it felt as though it was about to shatter under her fingers…and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way...and it was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra-hard now...Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful...At once, Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams of pain, louder than hers when she was Crucio'd. It was the first time Ila had seen Him like this…in so much pain…so vulnerable…to be so human.

Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock - a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished – the same hand that Wormtail had cut off…there were more shouts of pain, each getting louder, making her cringe even harder. This was Voldemort, she should have been happy to see him in pain…but there was something, a niggling voice in the back of her head telling her to let go. To stop him from this pain and to stop everything. Maybe He'll show mercy on her if she just let…Was this Voldemort? She looked at him. He was looking at the sky, every ounce of energy that he had was to push through the pain…a mere fraction of the pain he had caused others to suffer through, only a fraction of what Ila had to go through...she kept a tight hold on her wand with a sudden surge of energy and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great, greyish something, that looked as though it were made of the most solid, densest smoke. ...

It was a head...now a chest and arms...the torso of Lauren Dawlish.

"Hold on. Ila," it said. Its voice was distant and echoing.

Lauren Dawlish was clawing at the tip of Voldemort's wand, using it as an anchor, as she pulled herself through as if she was going through a narrow tunnel until her entire body was seen. She looked…normal. Ila knew what had happened to her the final night she lived. But she was…what was Ila looking at?

She heard the frightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the edges of the golden dome...More screams of pain from the wand...and then something else emerged from its tip...the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso...Yet another head was emerging...and the head, grey as a smoky statue, was another woman...Ila, both arms shaking now as she fought to keep her wand still, saw her drop to the ground and straighten up like the others, staring...The shadow of Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes.

"Don't let go, now!" she cried, and her voice echoed like Lauren's as though from very far away.

"Don't let him get you, Ila - don't let go!"

She and Lauren's shadowy figures began to pace around the inner walls of the golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it... and Voldemort's dead victims whispered as they circled the duellers, whispered words of encouragement to Ila, and hissed words Ila couldn't hear to Voldemort. And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort's wand...and Ila knew when she saw it who it would be...she knew, as though she had expected it from the moment when Lauren had appeared from the wand...knew, because the man appearing was the one she'd thought of more than any other tonight...

The smoky shadow of a tall man with untidy hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at him...and Ila, Her arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of her father.

"Dad?" Ila breathed.

"Your mother's coming..." he said quietly, walking towards her. "She wants to see you...it will be all right..."

It was the first time she had ever seen her father in real life. Sometime last year, she had a fear that she would forget what they would look like. Her memories of her parents were starting to disappear and there was nothing that she could do. But seeing her father now. He was surprisingly tall for an Asian – something that Sirius had mentioned last year. His hair was like Ila's, messy and unruly. If it wasn't for the situation that they were in, she'd probably whine to him about giving her the wrong genetics. His glasses were slightly cracked in one lens. She saw the clothes that he was wearing – the same clothes that he had died in…

Ila couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face.

"Don't start crying now beta…we're here now too," another voice said behind her.

A young woman with long silky black hair, the smoky, shadowy form of Leela Potter. She walked close to Ila, looking down at her, and she spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others.

"What – why…" Ila was struggling to breathe properly at the sight of her parents beside her.

"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments...but we will give you time...you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts...do you understand, Ila?" her mother asked, her hand reaching to stroke her hair. Ila couldn't feel anything.

"Yes," Ila gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on her wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath her fingers.

"Ila," the figure of Lauren Dawlish whispered, "don't bring John here. I don't want him to see me like this…If he really wants closure, tell him I wanted to watch The Witches. Ok?"

"Yeah," Ila breathed. Suddenly another voice appeared. This one was different. She had already met this voice before. It was much more powerful than any of the figures that appeared from behind her. She watched as the hairs on her arms stood upright as the voice spoke –

"You aren't done yet," Death whispered. Unlike the others, it sounded much closer. She wondered if anyone else heard him. "I told you I will help you. In return, you must keep yourself alive. Keep yourself alive until I need you."

Ila didn't get the chance to reply when the cold wind vanished. She could hear the screams of Voldemort, the shouts of the Death Eaters, and the chanting from the Sisters all coming to her as if someone had increased the volume once again.

"Before you go, Ila," her mother whispered in her ear, "your father and I are sorry for not looking after you - for seeing you grow up - "

"Don't be sorry - "

"We've waited 13 years to see you again," her father whispered in her other ear, holding onto her shoulder. "Even though you won't see us, we'll always see you, Ila. You don't understand just how proud we are of you. Oh...and...when you see Sirus...tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself and to cut his hair. Alright?"

"Jay!" her mother sighed before talking to Ila, "Do it now, be ready to run..."

"Do it NOW!" her father shouted.

Ila pulled her wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear - they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Ila from His gaze.

Ila sprinted as hard as she could, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as she passed; she zigzagged behind headstones, feeling the heat of their curses flying past her, hearing them hit the headstones - she was dodging curses and graves, pelting towards the Triwizard Cup.

"STUPFY!" she yelled, wildly waving her wand behind her. Ila dived behind a marble angel, just in time as jets of red light travelled above her head. She saw each spell crack one of the graves in front of her until the last spell destroyed the headstone. She peeked to the side of the grave. Her eyes weren't on the Death Eaters storming towards her but rather…throughout the whole ordeal, all the Sisters had stayed where they were. They were still in a circle; they were still chanting. Their heads were glued to the sky. Following their gaze, Ila gasped at the sight of the sky.

The entire sky had churned to a deep reddish brown. Lightning struck across the sky, with thunder following close behind. But it wasn't raining. Every time the sky was lit up, a shadow that took up most of the sky flashed. It was a shadow of four horses rearing.

Ila saw the Sisters smile as they took in the sight. Their ritual had worked. They had bought the Four – no. It wasn't them.

It was her.

Ila had broken the seal.

"Stand aside! I will kill her! She is mine!" Voldemort shrieked, breaking Ila away from her thoughts. Ila dived to the left, hearing more wand blasts headstones and statues beside her. She rolled, dodging a green jet of light. She saw the same light hit the tree, causing a branch to fall off and all of its leaves to rot.

One tombstone stood between her and Voldemort, but Ila couldn't move with the branch blocking her way. Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. Ila saw her mouth curl into a smile and saw him raise His wand.

"Accio!" Ila yelled, pointing her wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward her. Ila caught it by the handle - she heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that she felt the jerk behind her navel that meant the Portkey had worked - it was speeding her away in a whirl of wind and colour.

She was going back.