Isabella was in an old courtyard, sitting cross legged on the flagstone floor, her fingers twining around the grass that poked up around the warm stones. The sun was not actually visible, but the sky was blue and clear and the courtyard warm. She was very sleepy and a little bored.

She had already walked around the courtyard several times. There were two doorways, standing directly across the courtyard from each other. One of them was a crumbling archway with a tattered black veil hanging over it. Isabella believed the only reason the arch still stood was the surrounding wall. She had pulled back the veil several times and tried to see was was behind it, but on the other side of the threshold was a impenetrable black wall. It was terrifying, but intriguing at the same time.

The other doorway was set in a smooth, new archway. It was small and heavy set, plain wooden boards held together by thick iron pegs. Isabella had tried the door, but found it locked and unmoving.

There was a small breeze that flowed continuously, over the rooftops and through the veiled archway. The walls were flat and whitewashed; no helpful, climbable ivy grew along the wall.

In the middle of the courtyard was a marble fountain, that splashed its water in a lively manner. Isabella was leaning against the side of this fountain, her eyes closed and her face relaxed. The bottom of the fountain had blue and green mosaic tiles the shimmered and glittered with the dancing light.

She stood once more and ambled around the perimeter of the courtyard, her hand lightly tracing along the gleaming white walls. Isabella looked up, her mouth set in a puzzled frown at the lack of windows. They should have been set in the tops of the walls, just under the shade of the red tiled roof.

Her walk brought her to the stone arch again. She pulled aside the ripped fabric and looked through at the void beyond. Isabella extended her hand and then drew it back again fearfully. The vast darkness scared her, though she didn't know why.

"Isabella, what are you doing here?" a deep, gentle voice asked. The girl turned and saw Albus Dumbledore standing opposite her, just to the side of the locked door.

"I don't know," she admitted, looking back through the arch.

"Ah," Dumbledore sighed, as though this explained everything. He was wearing a set of magenta robes with golden crescent moons stamped all over it. The tall man strode across the courtyard and pulled Isabella's elbow firmly. She allowed herself to be tugged away from the veiled archway, turning wondering eyes on Dumbledore.

"How did you get through that door?" she asked curiously.

"What door?" he inquired innocently.

"That one, right there," said Isabella, pointing at the wooden door. Dumbledore followed her gaze and beamed, his blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles.

"This makes things easier," he said mysteriously. "Isabella, do you know where we are?"

"Of course." Isabella had not really thought about it, but now she realized suddenly. "We're in Padua."

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded and looked around as though on a pleasant day trip. His eyes fell on the fountain and he moved closer, as though to examine it. "Did you drink any of this water?" he asked, pulling out his wand.

"No," Isabella said, following him. Dumbledore dipped the tip of his wand in the water, but nothing happened, save that the surface of the water rippled gently.

"Most interesting," Dumbledore said, pocketing his wand. Isabella did not think this interesting at all: she had been sitting in this courtyard for a while and nothing had happened.

"So." He sat on the edge of the fountain and patted the stone beside him. She sat also and looked up at him. "Do you wish to go on?"

"On where?" she asked, confused.

"Beyond," he said simply. Isabella chewed her lip and looked back over her shoulder; the veil fluttered invitingly, its tattered fingers beckoning her forward.

"Or you could go back," Dumbledore suggested. Isabella looked back up at him and frowned slightly.

"Back?" she asked vaguely.

"You don't remember?" Dumbledore asked, his voice a little sad and worried. Isabella shook her head; she could only remember a few hours ago when she had woken up dressed in clean undyed robes.

"Think, Isabella, think!" he urged. But Isabella could not think... every thought slipped away just when her mind began to grab hold of it.

"Where are we?" Dumbledore asked again, a little bit more insistent this time.

"Padua," she said again. He gestured for her to continue. "The city of waters."

"Why is it called that?"

"The legendary properties of the water," the words flowed unbidden or thought of to Isabella's lips. "The city was the first to be founded in Northern Italy. It became a center of commerce. Wizards moved with the Muggles and brought their goddess, Hecate, with them."

"Yes, and...?"

"One of these families was the Petrroci's..." her voice trailed away and an image of her family burst into her mind, as though escaping from behind a locked door. "They founded a villa..." A grand country home replaced the picture of her family "... where my mother was born." Antonia Petrroci, smiling happily, stood there with a tray full of Christmas cookies. "She married my father... who... who..." Isabella closed her eyes and put her head in her hands, overwhelmed by a rush of memories and images.

She saw her mother and father, Portia and Castro, Alex and Morgan, Luna and Cho, Fred and George, Harry and Ron, Neville and Ginny, Terry and Hermione. She saw Hogwarts and Villa Petrroci. She saw her father's cottage. She saw the Room of Requirement and the DA. She saw the great lion she had conjured in that very last meeting...

"How do I get back?" she asked, her dark eyes flying open.

"You say that we are in Padua?" Dumbledore asked yet again. She nodded, and he stood up. "Then the water is somehow important." Isabella stood as well and turned to look down at the clear water.

"You drink it," she realized suddenly. No sooner had the words left her mouth than two water goblets appeared on the rim of the fountain. Dumbledore picked his up and filled it from the basin. He lifted it to her, as though toasting her. Isabella picked hers up and held it under the steady flow of water. It filled and she lifted it up, gazing over its brim toward the archway.

"Another time," Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder. Isabella did not really want to leave the courtyard; it was warm and light and peaceful here. If she went back, there would be pain and the bitterness of mortality, but there would also be her family and friends, who were probably waiting for her...

"Is this real?" Isabella asked Dumbledore, who was still holding his cup aloft. "Or has this been happening inside my head?" Dumbledore looked back at her, his face inscrutable.

"It is happening inside your head," Dumbledore said slowly, as though deciding his words were true as he spoke them. "But why on earth should that mean that it isn't real?"

Isabella looked back at the archway and continued to gaze at it as she took a small sip of water.