You wonder sometimes about who and why,
When your potential has always surpassed the sky.
But then you remember your enemies,
And think this must have been the plan of centuries.
So you wonder again about who and how
When your worst offense was not taking a bow.
Then you ask if it was a crime of intent,
But who would have killed you in your own element?
The house is quiet. But then, after the chaos of the war - after losing Hermione and Aries and Dumbledore and so many others - everything seems quiet. Even her mind is silent, showing itself to her as blank, noiseless whiteness. She feels like she's drowning in the oppressive lack of sound, like she's underwater, or under the influence of grief, and deaf with it. The monochromatic colour scheme the world seems to have adopted since she set foot back in the Muggle world is stifling.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are at a business dinner with some of Uncle Vernon's colleagues. Dudley has been dragged to London by his girlfriend. They have all given up on dragging her out of her head, and so she is alone. She entertains herself half-heartedly; The Hobbit lies open in her lap, and Bilbo - in the scene that never fails to make her laugh, though it fails now - is singing 'Attercop.' She wonders if Tolkien was a wizard, and if the spiders he wrote about were inspired by the Acromantula that lurk in the deep darks of the Wixen world and attack innocent children unprovoked.
"Avada Kedavra!" a familiar voice says suddenly, startling her. She turns her head just in time to be swallowed by a flash of green.
Zena startles awake, a gasp catching in her throat.
"What's wrong?" Magnus asks worriedly, his voice gravelly with sleep.
"Nightmare," she tells him, sitting up and looking around herself. It takes longer than it should for her to regain her bearings; she and Magnus must have fallen asleep in the Room of Requirement after she'd told him about her meeting with Theo and Adrian.
"Nightmare? Or memory?" he queries.
"I - memory."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I - she - was murdered."
"Who did it? Does anyone else know?"
"I don't know. Probably not, except for whoever killed her. No one was even sure if she was really dead or not before today."
Magnus tilts his chin down to look at her; his face is solemn, tinged with sorrow, and his eyes do not leave hers. "Do you want to try to find out who did it?"
"Yes."
"According to this Daily Prophet article, on Wednesday, the thirtieth day of July, a team of Aurors was dispatched to Number four, Privet Drive for the use of an Unforgivable Curse. Apparently, Privet Drive was Haven Potter's last known location," Magnus tells her, tapping his wand rapidly against his cheek.
"But she wasn't there when the Aurors arrived?" Zena asks curiously.
"That certainly seems to be the case. But her wand was there, and there was no evidence of an Unforgivable Curse on it when they used Priori Incantatem. And besides, she went missing the day before her seventeenth birthday; if it had been Haven who cast the spell, the Trace would have indicated as much when the DMLE first got the notice. Besides, everyone who knew her admitted that Haven might use dark-classified spells, but she'd never have used an Unforgivable. And, according to this -" he slides a sheaf of parchment over the Daily Prophet article "- there was no one around who was reported as missing. All her relatives were out of the house, though the Aurors interviewed them later on, and they were asked to notify the DMLE if Haven ever showed back up. None of the neighbours mentioned anyone or anything having gone missing; in fact, there was an uncommon lack of missing persons reports filed that week. The general consensus reached was that Haven was dead."
"Which we know to be true," Zena agrees. "But none of this gives us any clue about who might've killed her."
"But," Magnus interjects, "it tells us who might know. And, luckily, it's a weekend. I bet if we ask McGonagall for permission, we could do some investigating so long as we're back by Sunday evening."
"I suppose," she agrees tentatively. "Our workload isn't unbearable yet; we might as well make the most of our free time. But who are we going to ask?"
Magnus grins toothily at her. "The residents of Number four, Privet Drive."
"I'm sorry," the young woman says, looking quite taken aback by their intrusion, "but I don't think I've ever even heard the name Haven Potter. Are you certain you have the right house?"
"Yes," Zena tells her. "This is the right house. It looks like we've just gotten here a few years too late."
"Do you know who the previous owners of this establishment were?" Magnus asks the woman, who twists her mouth thoughtfully.
"Wait right here. Let me see if I can find the papers from when we bought our house." She closes the door softly, and Zena and Magnus can hear her walking away down the hall. They exchange glances.
"Maybe we should have found out who her guardians were before coming here," Zena says. "We probably could have looked them up and figured out where they live now instead of going on a wild niffler chase."
Magnus curls his lip. "Don't you mean a wild goose chase?"
"I meant what I said!" she sniffs haughtily. "Besides, I've heard some of the Purebloods say it before, and it makes sense, anyhow. Nifflers are crafty creatures."
"Zena, no one says that. One of the Purebloods must have been pulling your leg, okay. That phrase has never been in use because Wixen have geese, too, and so they've just stuck to the traditional phrasing."
Zena rolls her eyes. Clearly Magnus has been too focused on his studies to spend any time learning the colloquialisms of the magical world.
"And even if it were in use," Magnus continues obliviously, "it should be a Demiguise, not a Niffler, because Demiguises are -"
"Able to turn invisible, yes, I know," Zena interrupts just before the front door opens again.
"According to this," the young woman tells them softly, looking between Magnus and Zena with a curiosity that they ignore, "Mr Vernon Dursley was the previous owner, though they moved out back in ninety-eight. It looks like the Dursleys rented this house out for several years before finally deciding to sell."
"Brilliant!" Zena exclaims. "Mr Dursley is precisely who my friend and I are looking for. You…" she breaks off suddenly, "you wouldn't happen to have any contact information on there, would you?"
"No, sorry," she replies apologetically.
"That's alright," Magnus reassures her. "We'll find it some other way. Thanks so much for your assistance." He offers her a charming smile, which the woman returns, and then he and Zena walk back down the drive.
"Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice," Zena tells Vernon, who looks very different than she remembers for reasons she cannot quite place.
"Certainly," Vernon returns graciously. "May I ask what this is about?"
"Well, sir," she looks at his face, which is curious and non-threatening, "my friend and I, we're trying to find out what happened to Haven Potter. We - we thought you might have some information for us?" She cannot help the way her voice pitches up at the end; Vernon's face looks as though it has been carved with glass, with all its sharp edges bleeding and carved by heartbreak.
Vernon swallows roughly. "How do you know about her?"
"She's famous in our world," Magnus offers.
Vernon scoffs. "I know that. But there are plenty of people in your world who know about her, and none of them have come to ask about her since - since she… disappeared."
Zena looks at Magnus, who shrugs. "Is it safe to speak about… private matters here, or would elsewhere be better?" she asks Vernon.
"Normally I'd say here is fine," Vernon says, visibly pulling himself together, "but the work day is almost over, and I have a feeling that Petunia would be furious if she wasn't part of this conversation. If you'll just give me a moment to confirm with her that it's alright, this conversation might be best over dinner, if that's okay with you."
"I don't mind that," Zena says, and Magnus nods his agreement. "Would you like us to step out while you make the call, or…?"
"If you wouldn't mind," Vernon replies, looking relieved.
Zena and Magnus step outside as soon as Vernon starts dialing Petunia.
"Are you really gonna tell them about yourself and what we're trying to do?" Magnus asks harshly, his voice quiet. "Do you realise how dangerous that could be? We aren't supposed to talk to Muggles about magic, you remember that, right?"
"Yes, yes, and yes, Magnus," she replies coolly. "I understand where you're coming from. I do. But the Dursleys were her relatives; they - probably more than anyone - deserve to know what happened to her. And it could be dangerous, because they're Muggles, but they're also the Muggles who raised Haven Potter."
"And she died while she was living with them!" he hisses.
"The Durselys are Muggles." Magnus flinches at her tone, refusing to meet her eyes. "We both know that whoever killed Haven used Avada Kedavra; I have the memory to prove it. That automatically rules them out, alright? Because they can't use magic! Use your brain, Magnus. "
Magnus bites his lip to hold back his retort, and Zena is grateful for it. She turns away from her best friend just as the door to Vernon's office opens and he steps out, briefcase in hand. He clears his throat uncomfortably. "Do you… have a way to get there? Or will you be riding with me?"
"What would you prefer we do?" Zena queries.
"If at all possible, I would feel more comfortable if you found some other form of transportation. I just need some time to… process things. If you two don't mind, of course."
"No that's perfectly alright," she reassures him. "We completely understand. It's always nice to have time to yourself after a grueling day at work. We'll figure out a way to get there. We just need the address, if you don't mind?"
Vernon gives it to them on the walk to his car, and he opens the door before looking at them with a knowing glint in his eyes. "If you happen to arrive before me, feel free to knock on the door. Petunia should be there to let you in." With that, he closes the door, turns the key in the ignition, and drives away.
"What the hell could he possibly need to process?" Magnus demands. "We haven't even told him anything yet, Zeen."
Zena sighs. "Imagine that a family member that you love died, Mag. And you don't know what happened to them, and while you care a whole lot, it doesn't seem like anyone else does because no one will talk to you about them, and everyone just kind of forgets about you and the fact that you've lost someone. And then imagine that it's been years since you've had to think about everything you don't know about that person, and two random kids you've never seen before in your life bring them back up out of the blue. And you've got no idea what's going on, except that somehow someone cares enough to seek you out, but you don't know what their motives are? What would you do?"
"I'd stop imagining," Magnus smirks.
"Don't be a smart-arse," she commands. "I'm serious. I don't think it's unreasonable for Vernon to want some time alone before he has to hear what we've got to say."
"Welcome," Petunia says, looking as prim and proper as her voice suggests; her blonde hair is threaded through with subtle silver strands, but it is otherwise as immaculate as ever, and neatly coiffed; she has faint hints of make-up: dark brown mascara accenting the eyelashes fringing her green eyes, pale lipstick lined neatly in a slightly darker nude shade; her pantsuit is in a modest cut, the chocolatey tones of it complimenting her hair and eyes. "I've just set the table. Please follow me."
She leads them into the dining room, where there are five places set, and indicates their seats. "Now, I'm afraid I don't know your names. Vernon forgot to mention them over the phone when we were making arrangements."
Zena and Magnus exchange glances. "I don't know if we ever introduced ourselves to him! I'm Zena Sinclair. This is my friend Magnus Gaunt."
Petunia frowns slightly before her face smooths out. "No matter. Now, Vernon should be arriving soon. And, I hope you don't mind, but I've extended an invitation to my son, Dudley, as well. Vernon mentioned that you wanted to speak about Haven, and Dudley was always quite fond of her, you know."
"Of course we don't mind," Zena exclaims, elbowing Magnus roughly until he agrees. "Dudley deserves to be a part of this conversation as much as you and Mr Dursley do."
Petunia's lips curl amusedly. "Well, why don't the two of you take a seat while we wait for the others to arrive." They sit down at the table, and Petunia bustles off towards what Zena assumes is the kitchen.
Only a few moments pass before they hear the sound of the door swinging open; two sets of footsteps move down the hallway to the dining room. Vernon and Dudley have just sat down when Petunia comes back into the room carrying two large dishes with her. She sets them on the table and sinks into her own chair and serves herself.
The beginning of the meal is stilted and awkward; superficial small-talk filters through the room between bites of the delicious food Petunia prepared. Vernon shifts in his seat and clears his throat, and Zena finds herself impressed that he managed to last as long as he did.
"So. How do you know about Haven?" he asks, reiterating his query from the office.
Zena looks down at her hands, flicking her gaze towards Magnus, who appears to be completely unsympathetic. She scowls at him, but he only rolls his eyes in reply. "In the magical world," Zena begins hesitantly, watching as all three Dursleys put down their silverware and watch her curiously, "there is an uncommon phenomenon." She chews on the side of her tongue nervously. "It's. Um. It's reincarnation. Only, it's not reincarnation like you might think of it; it's not like a person who's died is reborn into a new body with all their memories intact. At least… that's not how it is for me."
The Dursleys look at her in disbelief, and Zena suddenly realises that this explanation is going to be much more difficult than she originally expected.
"What I'm trying to say," she blunders on, "is that I am a reincarnated soul. Specifically, I am Haven Potter's reincarnation."
"You expect us to believe that?" Vernon growls with more hostility than she's ever heard from him. "We may not have magic, Miss Sinclair, but my family and I are not completely stupid, nor are we completely oblivious to the way your world works. What does your Ministry call it? Muggle-Baiting?"
"I - yes. But. I'm not trying to play a prank on you. I swear. Truly, I am telling you the truth." She looks at Magnus for help, but he only shrugs at her helplessly.
"Prove it," Dudley says softly. "Prove you're really Haven."
Zena doesn't even bother trying to explain that Haven's memories don't work that way; she can see now that she went about this whole thing all wrong, though she doesn't quite understand why. "You gave her The Hobbit for her eleventh birthday present," she tries, but Dudley looks unimpressed.
"Everyone knew she loved The Hobbit, especially because of the Dragon. Try again."
"She called you Big D."
"So did a lot of people," he retorts flatly.
"You," she tells Vernon, "told her that if Malfoy apologised, she should accept it and move on, and she promised to think about it. I doubt any of you were surprised to hear that she didn't." Vernon's expression softens slightly, and so she continues. "Dudley, she vanished your plate of food, sometimes, when she was feeling particularly sulky. And," she continues without waiting for his agreement, "she always needed her aunt's help packing, especially the day she went off to Hogwarts the first time."
"Haven always was a bit scatter-brained when it came to packing," Petunia says fondly.
"She was always a cantankerous little prat when we were younger," Dudley mutters.
"So, if we're to believe your little details," Vernon says, looking as though he might actually believe her now, "you are the reincarnation of our niece. That doesn't explain what you're doing here."
Zena takes a deep breath. "Well, since I'm here, that means that she's dead. Obviously, a great many people thought that. I guess it would have been out of character for her to run away without saying a word about it. But I met with a Shaman and a Telepath who confirmed that I was Haven once upon a time, and after that meeting, I had a… memory in the form of a nightmare, and it proved that Haven was murdered."
"Wasn't that what your magical police thought in the first place?" Petunia asks, looking only mildly interested. "They said something about a Killing Curse being cast, and that it wasn't from Haven's wand…" she trails off, looking at them.
"That was what the general public agreed happened, yes," Magnus breaks in, "but there were still some people who were convinced that Haven had just disappeared. I guess because it's easier to think that your friend or your saviour or whatever is on an extended sabbatical, having not sent any word for years, than it is to accept that she's dead, even when all the evidence indicates that the latter is true."
"Mag, you have to remember that Haven's body was missing when the Aurors arrived. That alone is enough to inspire hope in a person."
"But if you know for sure that Haven is dead," Dudley says, looking confused, "why are you here? We already knew she was dead, even with her body missing. You didn't need to come and tell us. You didn't need to dig everything -" he turns his face away, though not before Zena sees how glossy his eyes have become "- you didn't need to drag all the emotions back up again to give us your screwed up idea of closure, alright?"
"I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just. I just wanted to figure out who did it. I wanted to try to bring them to justice. And. Well. I thought you might be able to help us figure out who did it."
"If your Aurors couldn't figure it out, even with all the information we tried to give them, why do you think you'd be able to figure it out?" Dudley asks harshly.
"Because reincarnation isn't just some random thing! Nine times out of ten, a reincarnated soul has unfinished business that requires a physical body to carry out, otherwise they'd just come back as ghosts."
"You said nine times out of ten," Dudley observes. "But have you ever considered that this is that tenth time where you've been reincarnated just because? Sometimes the world works in unexpected ways, kid. Sometimes we lose our keys, or break an arm; sometimes we're born with magic, and sometimes we're reborn with a desire for revenge. But sometimes, kid, sometimes being reincarnated is just reincarnation. Sometimes one family loses a loved one, and another family gains one, and maybe there're some cosmic forces at work, but maybe the world is unpredictable and it's just picked Haven Potter and Zena Sinclair to be its unfortunate victims. Sometimes, Zena, things happen for no other reason than they just happen, okay? Sometimes things are exactly as they appear, and there's no hidden meaning in the way the world turns. Sometimes a death is just a death, and a life is just a life, and that's okay."
"And sometimes a death is a life because there's something rotten in the state of Britain," she disagrees vehemently.
Dudley sighs and leans back in his seat, folding his hands over his stomach. "What do you want to know?" he asks resignedly.
Zena sits forward eagerly. "On the day she died, did Haven mention anything about expecting anyone to come over?"
It is Petunia who answers. "No. That was the summer after Haven finally defeated Voldemort. She didn't talk to anyone; she spent days on end just sitting in her room, staring at the walls or the ceiling. She never cried where we could see, I don't think. She lost several friends during the war, or that's the way it always seemed, and so she spent the summer grieving. Nothing we did could drag her out of it."
Zena frowns, before asking: "Do you know if she had any enemies after the war?"
"Well there were all those Death Eaters, weren't there?" Vernon asks. "Haven seemed like she was well-liked at her school, but I'm sure there've been plenty of people who've had it out for her since she was a baby. It seems like that's the way your world works a great deal of the time."
Magnus' thoughtful hum draws her attention. He shakes his head slowly. "If I remember correctly, the vast majority of the Death Eaters were captured after the final battle. Some of them turned themselves in, and some fled the country; the Ministry was actually on top of shite for once, and they managed to crank out and convict a ton of the Death Eaters before July even began. Those they hadn't gotten to at that point were waiting in holding cells, or they'd managed to pay bail, but they weren't able to leave their homes."
"Did she kill anyone during the battle? Besides Voldemort, I mean. Maybe someone wanted revenge," Zena suggests.
Magnus shrugs. "If she did, I don't know about it, but we can try to do some research when we get back to Hogwarts."
"If you know she was murdered," Petunia says thoughtfully, "why can't you remember who did it?"
"In the memory," Zena explains, "the person was behind her. She couldn't turn around fast enough to see who it was. But the voice was familiar, I think."
"Male or female?" Vernon enquires.
"It sounded male. But that doesn't really mean anything. We've got Polyjuice Potion, and spells and potions that change your voice. It could be literally anybody."
Dudley groans. "Haven always said that magic made things easier, but it's beginning to sound like it just makes everything more difficult than it needs to be. Anyways, I've got a long drive, and I'd like to get home tonight. I haven't seen Gemma at all today, and she's working tomorrow."
"The poor dear," Petunia sympathises. "Say hello to her for us, alright darling?"
"Alright, Mum. I'll see you next weekend."
"Drive safe," Vernon grumbles.
"Love you too, Dad," Dudley says. He nods to Magnus and Zena, and makes his way out of the dining room. Zena hears the front door open and close again shortly thereafter.
"I suppose we'd better head out, too," she muses. "I told Mum and Dad that we'd be spending the night, Mag, so they've probably made up a room for you." She turns to Vernon and Petunia. "Thank you for the lovely meal, and for tolerating our intrusive and insensitive questions. You've been a great help, and we really appreciate it."
"Certainly," Petunia replies. "It was no trouble at all."
"Do you want us to let you know if we find anything?" Zena asks curiously.
Vernon and Petunia exchange a brief glance. "No," Vernon says with certainty. "I think we're both tired of being sad and angry about Haven's death. We don't need to know who did it because it doesn't bring her back. Thank you, though."
"Alright. Well, have a pleasant evening."
"Thank you again for the food," Magnus adds.
Petunia walks them to the front door, telling them that she enjoyed their company, though both Zena and Magnus can tell that she is lying. They wait until she has closed the door behind them to summon the Knight Bus.
Yumiko and Aindrea Sinclair greet Zena and Magnus enthusiastically, ushering them inside their cosy cottage.
"It's so good to have you home, darling," Zena's mum says happily. "I feel like it's been ages since I saw you last."
Zena laughs slightly. "Mum, I send you letters every week. You can't have been missing me that much!"
Yumiko smiles softly. "You know that I do, darling."
She's right, too. Zena does know that her mother misses her while she is off at Hogwarts, but it is always difficult to focus on little things like homesickness, or missing her parents, when she is in a school that teaches her magic.
"Don't you have Zyan to keep you company, Mum?"
"Most days," Yumiko confirms. "But it is Friday, you know, and so he's over at a friend's for the weekend. I'm glad you're here; your father has to go in to work tomorrow, even though it's a Saturday," she looks at Aindrea witheringly, "and Zyan's away. But you and Magnus will be here, so I won't be as lonely as I expected."
Aindrea wraps an arm around Yumiko's waist and leans down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. "You know that you don't mind too terribly when I'm off at work, baby. When I'm not here, it's nice and quiet, and it leaves room for your imaginings and stories."
Yumiko sniffs. "I'm just saying that you're a workaholic, love, that's all."
Aindrea smirks at her. "Are you feeling neglected, Yumi? I'll do my very best to make up for it."
"Oh?" Zena's mum asks.
Zena grabs Magnus' hand and pulls him away from her parents, hoping to make a quick getaway. She groans miserably when they don't manage to outrun her father's reply.
"Yeah, baby. I'll sing your praises. I've been told I have a way with my tongue."
"I can honestly say that I have never wanted to hear your parents flirting, Zeen," Magnus tells her with a slight whine.
"You think I do?" she demands.
"Well," Magnus says delicately, closing the door behind them and sitting at the foot of her bed, "it's always nice to know your parents still love each other."
"That's true enough," Zena agrees. "I'm going to bed now. Your room is down the hall, so go take up space there."