She opened her eyes in the hospital wing. There was steady murmur of voices around her, as though a great many people were there. Isabella blinked, looking out the window at the golden evening sky.

Someone chuckled nearby. Isabella turned her head on the pillow an saw Dumbledore, wearing the same magenta robes she had seen in her dream, sitting beside her.

"Welcome back," he said softly. Isabella thought about sitting up, but that idea didn't make it from her head to her body before she was engulfed in a tight embrace. The exotic scent identified her mother, who was babbling Italian in her ear. Isabella sorted through the words, half-lecture and half-relief, trying to figure out what had happened.

Her mother stood back and touched her face tenderly, dark eyes still showing traces of their former terror. Isabella tried to smile back, but she was yet again embraced tightly. Her father sat on the bed, hugging her body tightly to him and giving a lecture that was almost identical to her mother's, save that it was in English.

"How dare you leave school, Isabella Petrroci O'Reagan! Off on some misguided quest to save a known felon, with other schoolchildren, for Christ's sake! How could you do this to us? We thought you were dead, everyone thought you were dead, and we've all been worried sick! Your mother cried for hours and said the rosary fifty times, your Grandfather had to be written...!"

"Grandfather?" Isabella asked, her voice hoarse and her lips cracking slightly as she spoke. "Is he here?"

"Dumbledore said it wasn't necessary, but can you imagine what would have happened... God knows if he'll let you come back next year! You nearly ruined all your mother's work! But thank goodness you're alive!" With that he hugged her again and allowed her to lay back down. Dumbledore's brilliant blue eyes were twinkling slightly.

Something warm was sitting on Isabella's stomach. She lifted her head slightly and saw Portia's wide golden eyes glaring at her accusingly.

"You too, huh?" she asked, petting the kneazle's head. Portia purred and leaned into her hand, allowing her chin to be scratched thoroughly.

Dumbledore left Isabella to her reunions, but she was quiet and troubled a great deal of the time, only half-listening to her parents and friends. Alex and Morgan had come in and sat on her bed for about thirty minutes. Isabella had fallen asleep with them there and woken sheepishly a few hours later to find them gone.

In their place, however, was Castro. The augury fluttered to her pillow and perched there, preening her hair gently. It felt nice, so Isabella didn't try to stop him. There was a large package sitting on the table at the end of the bed.

"Did you bring this, mia bella?" she asked, stroking the bird's green feathers. He opened his mouth in a silent cry of agreement. Isabella managed to sit up by grabbing the head board with her hands and pulling herself upright. The cardboard box was labeled: "Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Shop." Isabella smiled happily; Florean was her father's godfather and was very fond of his family.

She opened the box, unsealing the freezing charm that had been placed upon it.

"Cioccolato geltato," she told Castro, picking up a small tub of chocolate ice cream. There was a spoon with it and she dug in gratefully, not wanting to wait for the ice cream to melt.

"I see you are remembered," someone laughed softly. Isabella looked up and saw Professor Dumbledore striding towards her, resplendent in midnight blue. She blushed and made to put away the ice cream, but Dumbledore held up his hands.

"By all means, continue," he told her. "Fortesque's ice cream is famous, and it would be a shame to let it melt." Isabella spooned up a little more gelato and ate in silence; Dumbledore seated himself by her bed and seemed perfectly content to wait for her to speak first.

"Where was I?" was her first question. "Was I really in Padua?"

"Ah, that is a very excellent question," said Dumbledore. He leant forward and placed the tips of his fingers together. "And one I am not sure it is possible to answer. Were we in Padua? I must say yes, because then there would not have been the water and without the water there would have been no way back. But I must also say no, for we were in your mind." Isabella scowled; she did not like complicated and riddling answers.

"Fine," she said sulkily. "But how did I get there? I remember touching the archway in the Department of Mysteries... and then waking up in the courtyard."

"You died," Dumbledore said simply. Isabella stared at him, her spoon held loosely in her hand. "Oh yes, you died. Or rather, you passed beyond the world of the living."

"The door..." Isabella recalled quietly.

"Had you been able to force your way through that, I think you would have found yourself back here," he explained, rather kindly. "It was not locked, as you supposed. But it could only be opened from one side. Once beyond, there was very little chance of you making it back out."

"But if I was dead...?"

"I believe there is a particularly enjoyable Muggle book with the phrase 'mostly dead'," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "You had simply to step through the archway and your spirit would be in the land of the dead and unable to return to your body."

"I don't understand," Isabella said with a puzzled frown.

"I'm afraid I don't particularly understand either," Dumbledore shrugged, as though this was not a very troubling fact. They sat quietly for a little while, listening to the sounds of other patients breathing deeply.

"Why was I drawn to that veil?" she asked. "Luna and Harry could hear voices, but I could not."

"Tell me what you saw in the arch."

"Darkness and a void," Isabella said immediately; she could still see the arch when she closed her eyes. "But it was beautiful, so beautiful and ancient."

"Ah." Isabella looked at him sharply, wanting him to explain his only reply. He shook his head with a smile. "No, I've no idea what led you to that arch. But I must warn you," he grew very serious, "That I do not believe these feelings toward the archway will cease. You must never go near it again, for I fear what might happen. It is entrancing to many, but it seems to have a particularly strong hold over you."

"I understand," Isabella said, recognizing that Dumbledore did not mean to go near to it literally (it was highly unlikely she would ever enter the Department of Mysteries again) but also that she must not dwell on the arch in her mind. They fell silent once more. Isabella held out her spoon and the tub of ice cream.

"Gelato?" she offered. Dumbledore chuckled and accepted.