Chapter 2 - Careening through time
Everything was pitch black. She was falling, careening towards the ground, as if she had tumbled off a cliff's edge. The air howled, a sickening whistle; the sound emulating that of being in the middle of a violent storm. Bella's eyes scanned the darkness, looking for anything that she could possibly grab on to, delaying the inevitable.
Suddenly, a silhouette appeared in the darkness, glowing with an ethereal light. It was so bright she momentarily had to cover her eyes. It was Narcissa, smiling; holding a single hand out, seemingly following her descent. Bella's arms stretched, reaching for her. Narcissa's mouth was moving, trying to say something. She couldn't hear her over the shriek of the wind.
She appeared younger, Bella noticed. The deep lines that had previously lined her face from years of worry were not as deep. Her eyes shone with a playfulness Bella had only seen in her youth.
Suddenly, Narcissa's smile vanished. She frowned, stretching her hand out further. The darkness was replaced with green now, a terrible, horrible green. It was fading, getting darker and darker.
Bella was frantic. She screamed at the top of her lungs, arms outstretched and straining.
She could hear her voice over the howls, barely comprehensible. With one last ditch effort, Bella stretched out her arm, fingers outstretched. The tips of her fingers just barely brushed hers.
Narcissa's voice was clear now— a sweet, beautiful voice filling her senses.
"Bella. Wake up."
The sound of a kettle whistling made Bella jump, forcing her eyes open to darkness. The whistling stopped, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a tea cup being placed on a saucer. The faint voice of a woman broke the silence.
"Tea's ready, love."
She was doused in sweat, as if someone had poured a pail of water on her. The bedsheets stuck uncomfortably to her as she moved her arms, attempting to discern her surroundings. Bella shot up so fast, pushing and kicking at the sheets, that she momentarily got nauseous.
The first thing that greeted her eyes was an open window, the cloudless night sky dusted with faint glowing stars behind it. It was open; the cool breeze now gracing the exposed skin of her arms. Bella threw her head back and relished it.
There was no possible explanation as to how she got here. Her mind was fuzzy. Memories seemed to be teetering on the surface, but nothing seemed to click. She knew who she was, but everything else was a little hazy.
"Thanks, dear," a man called out, which made Bella jump and lose her train of thought. She needed to concentrate and establish where she was.
The room was small— too small. It was almost claustrophobic. The wallpaper was a tacky, sickly yellow with red roses. There was barely anything in the room, apart from a dresser that sat next to the open window, her robe neatly folded on top of it. A door was closed to her left, which Bella presumed led to a bathroom. Light shone through the open doorway, barely lighting up the room.
"Any word from our unexpected guest, dear?"
The cool night air reached her legs when she kicked off the blankets, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. She had to get right on the edge of the bed before her feet found purchase on the shaggy carpet.
"Not yet, love. I'll check on her soon."
Bella rose shakily to her feet, sticking an arm out awkwardly to stop from falling. The short sleeves of her dress fell down to her elbows opening the neckline and exposing her bra. Bella brought her right hand up and scrunched the fabric to stop it from coming off completely.
"You better soon, dear. She was in a right state, wasn't she?"
Stumbling over to the dresser, a hand running along the wall to steady herself, a familiar gleam of light had made her pause at the open window.
"She was, love. I'd be more interested to know how she got in. Scared me out of my wits when I saw her lying there, poor girl."
The reflection off the pendant was odd, Bella thought, raising it to her eyes. The back was black and charred, as if it had been left in the hearth of a fireplace. The inside had not fared any better; the two dials and hourglass had been fused into the frame. Only someone who had seen it previously could discern the familiar markings on the bumpy surface.
"It's alright, dear. Coppers will be here soon, anyway. Not right for a girl to wander 'round this time of night."
She pulled the robe off the dresser, shaking it out, before draping it over her shoulders, sliding her arms through the sleeves. Her hands didn't come out the end like she was expecting. She had to raise her arms in the air, freeing her hands, before she could start doing up the three buttons.
"Oh, love. I wish you didn't call them. Maybe we should have waited for her to come to. She'll be terrified when they arrive, poor little thing."
The robe bundled up around her feet. It was odd; the clothes appeared to be hers, but they were much too big. Bella ran a shaky hand down the right side of the coat, but the familiar protrusion of a wand was missing. Bella's heart started to race— they had taken her wand.
"What do you reckon was with her clothes, dear? They were six sizes too bloody big."
Holding the front of her robes up, she tiptoed into the hallway. The voices were getting closer. It was the only way out— the only way to freedom.
"Who knows what they get up to nowadays, love."
The hallway opened up from left to right into a sitting room that branched out into a kitchen and dining room. Bella peeked out, sidling up to the wall. There was a man in the sitting room, splayed out on a couch and reading a newspaper. His thick rimmed glasses almost perfectly reflected what he was reading.
"What's the world coming to, dear?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the newspaper.
"Oh Lionel, knock it off. Need I remind you what we used to get up to when we were young?" the woman answered, drying a plate with a tea towel in the kitchen.
They were in their sixties. The white edges of their grey hair had started to compete with the grey's dominance. Wrinkles lined their faces, a testament to their age. They were harmless.
"Oh come off it will you, Margaret? That's different. We were responsible."
Bella brought her hands up to her hair, smoothing it down, letting it drape down her back. It was softer— it felt foreign.
"Sure, love. Whatever you say."
One thing was for certain; they were muggles. Her body let out an involuntary shiver. She shifted her feet, trying to rid the feeling of mud between her toes.
"It's true, dear."
Two old muggles stood in between her and the front door— they couldn't possibly harm her— a witch. Bella raised her hands, smoothing out her robe, then lifted the front of it. Raising her chin, clearing her throat, she graced the room with her presence.
The man noticed Bella first. He spluttered, then stood quickly and walked his way over, stopping in front of her. He raised his hands in front of himself in a placating gesture. "You alright, dear?" He was looking down at her like she was some wounded animal needing to be put out of their misery. How dare he, Bella thought; he was the animal here.
"I'm fine," Bella answered haughtily, immediately raising her hands to her lips and covering her mouth. Her voice was…wrong. It was soft—too soft. It was feminine. She could feel a traitorous blush rising up her neck, taking every last bit of willpower to stop it from kissing her cheeks. Obviously due to lack of speaking— who knows how long she had been lying trapped in their bed?
"You don't look fine, dear," the man said, throwing an arm around the woman's waist who had made her way over to him. He spoke like a parent scolding a child. "What's a kid like you doing running 'round this time of night, anyway?"
"I am not a child," Bella spat, her chin raised high. "And will not be treated as such." Their eyes widened as she spoke, so much so that Bella was sure their eyes would pop from their sockets. Bella didn't care— she would not be scolded by muggles.
The woman approached her, cautiously raising an arm to her shoulder, her face laced with concern. "Oh, sweetie; did someone hurt you?"
The minute her hand made contact with her shoulder, it burned. Bella stepped back, throwing back her shoulder harder than necessary, glowering murderously at her. "No one would dare touch me. Now if you'll excuse me, I must leave at once."
"Of course, sweetie, of course." She was sending her husband a curious look. "Before you go, why don't you come sit down in the dining room?" she asked, gesturing behind her. "I'll bring you a cup of tea."
"I do not want tea, woman," Bella said angrily, balling up the front of her robes in her fists. "Now, again, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my—" Bella trailed off, her peripheral vision catching a familiar wooden archway. Bella shifted her gaze to it expectantly. Then it all came rushing back.
Her mind was being overloaded. Memories were coming back a mile a minute, making her body sway unintentionally. She stared back at the arch, trying to discern its familiarity, then she saw him.
He was here, his glowing body surrounded by a dim hue of green, standing under the archway and staring lovingly at her as he raised his wand. Bella looked to her left— she traced their outlines, as if they were there. Narcissa looked at her, her blue eyes pleading.
It looked different with the lights, but when she closed her eyes, all she could see was green. It was— it was too much. The tears burst out of her eyes unexpectedly, followed by her throat letting out a sob. Bella brought her hands up to her face, hastily trying to cover her shame.
The woman walked over, throwing her arm around her, directing them to the couch and sitting next to her. "Oh darling," she cooed. "It's okay, it's okay. Shh."
The attempts to soothe Bella proved fruitless— she was wailing now, her body heaving in time with the sobs. The tears didn't have a chance to well in her eyes, dropping as soon as they formed.
"Oh sweetie, where are my manners?" the woman cooed. Bella unconsciously circled her waist with her arms. "I'm Margaret and this is Lionel, my husband. You can stay here as long as you want, you hear me?"
Bella, in an attempt to restore some of her dignity, brought an arm around and timidly started to dab at her eyes and nose with a sleeve. It left a disgusting patch of snot and tears. Bella stared at it, horrified. She was showing weakness in front of muggles.
"I have to go," Bella said suddenly, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She stood, pushing Margaret off her. "I had a wa— a stick with me. A brown stick. Where is it?"
The couple looked back and forth at each other, wide eyed. Lionel's eyebrows had risen over his glasses.
An awful sounding hiccup suddenly burst from Bella's mouth as she tried to cover a smile with her sleeve, realising how absurd her request must have sounded to them. Her eyes went wide, horrified. What was wrong with her?
Lionel shot his wife another sidelong glance before speaking. "Darling, you didn't come with a, uh, stick. Maybe you dropped it outside, with the other…sticks. Did you want me to find you one? Reckon I'd have a damn good chance of finding a brown one, too."
This was useless, Bella thought, rifling through her pockets, but to no avail. A witch without her wand. It was terrifying. She needed to leave— she needed air. Bella raised her chin, trying to restore her dignity. "It's been…lovely. But I shall now take my leave."
The archway sent shivers down her spine as she passed underneath it to the front door. The last time she had passed through this door— Bella couldn't bear the thought. Apparently she'd sob like a baby.
The couple followed her to the door. If they were surprised she knew the layout of the house, they didn't voice it. Bella could feel their eyes watching her as she attempted to turn the handle, but it remained steadfast. Bella resisted the urge to stamp a foot petulantly.
"What is this?" Bella demanded, pointing at the door handle in question. "This handle refuses to turn. Is it charmed?"
"Look, dear," Lionel started, walking over to the door and turning a small knob on the front of the handle. "We had some coppers coming here to help you find your home, but… I reckon you could stay here, if you want— as long as you want." The door swung open as he pulled.
Amazing. Bella leaned forward, eyeing the tricky handle. How muggles could create such technology without magic was truly astounding.
"I don't need your help," Bella said, starting to walk down the bumpy pathway. It was rough on her bare feet— maybe she should go back and get her heels.
"What about your shoes?" Lionel asked.
Bella whipped around, furious. "I don't need your help!"
"Wait!" Margaret yelled. "What was your name, love?"
"It's Bella;" she said, turning to leave. They could have her name. She was unlikely to ever see them again.
It was bright, the moon only just hitting its apex in the sky. Her mind blank, she followed the road to the east. It opened up to a main road, large white uniform houses littering the sides.
Diagon alley, Bella decided. She needed a wand.
A quaint little shop next to an alleyway was now at the forefront of her mind, red bricks, grey door and two small windows; on the outskirts of Diagon alley. Bella's eyes closed, the damp, dingy smell of the alley filling her senses.
A grey, muggle made lamppost greeted her, the light hurting her eyes as she re-adjusted to the night. Bella huffed, walking along the path in frustration. She'd need a wand.
The road opened up, houses now dotting the sides of the road sparsely, leaving vast open fields of grass in their place.
The cold, damp, muggle made path numbed her feet to the point that she couldn't feel them. Bella wiggled her toes, attempting to restore the feeling. It was useless— she had to step off onto the grass, which was strangely comforting.
Bella resisted the urge to sit down— she would not be seen as some filthy commoner— while she took a moment to ponder her situation. Her hand unconsciously raised to her necklace, twirling it.
The killing curse. Evidently, she had survived. It was the only possible explanation. Harry Potter wasn't so special now. The Dark Lord's killing curse had to be faulty.
The house had been long abandoned when Bella had found them there, cowering in her presence, the inside in disarray. How long had she been lying on the floor before the couple had found her? Was the Dark Lord still in power? Had he won the battle of Hogwarts?
She was broken out of her musings with the sound of something sputtering along in the distance. Bella looked up, observing a large muggle contraption approach, eventually pulling to the kerb. It was a box with wheels— somehow going as fast as a broom. As to how, without magic, Bella was scared to find out. She shuffled backwards, inching further away, not letting her eyes stray from the muggle made contraption.
The sides of the box opened and two men walked out. They were in official looking uniforms. One was fat and stumpy— his shirt buttons strained, bearing the pressure. One tall and skinny— he looked young, timid. The fat one stopped, crossing his arms, gesturing to the tall one to move forward and speak to her. Bella glared daggers at him as he approached.
"Wow, lass; easy," he said, raising his arms and bringing them down in a calming gesture. "You alright? You wouldn't be Bella, would you?"
So they had spoken to the couple. This complicated things. Bella needed to find a way out of here. This was obviously the muggle police.
"Where you headed, lass? You need a lift?"
She needed to get to London. She needed a wand. Maybe they could take her— she was out of options.
"Yes, you may help me," Bella answered, raising her chin. "I need to get to London. There's a road there… Charing cross road, I believe. Take me there, promptly." It was the road that conveniently housed the muggle entrance to Diagon Alley, accessed through the Leaky Cauldron.
The fat one approached, looking at the skinny one, swirling a single finger around the side of his head in a circular motion.
"I'm Sergeant Hedford, this is my partner, Constable Green, Edinburgh Police. You're in Edinburgh, girl. London is a seven hour drive that way," Hedford said, raising his arm and pointing to where Bella had previously come from.
"If I must, that is acceptable," Bella said resignedly. "Will you be taking me in this contraption?"
They looked at each other, raising their eyebrows. Green walked to the side of the box, opening the side to a seat.
"Look lass," he said, approaching her. "I'd be more comfortable if you would accompany us to the hospital." His hands were on her shoulders now, attempting to guide her to the machine. "Why don't you hop in the car, and you can tell us where your parents are on the way there."
Bella could feel her shoulders burning under his hands, her body shivering in disgust. Apparently she was allergic to muggles. She raised a single hand, pushing him back as hard as she could.
He went flying. He flew back ten feet, now laying on the edge of the long black road, staring at Bella disbelievingly. She followed, marching along and standing over him. "Touch me again and I'll kill you, you… filthy mu— peasant!" Her magic still worked— accidental magic, but still.
Hands suddenly grabbed her from behind, the captor laughing heartily. He quickly brought her arms together behind her back. A cold metal bracelet was placed around both of her wrists, and Bella tried and failed to bring her arms back around in front of her.
Bella screamed, kicking and writhing. The front lights of a nearby house had illuminated and a woman watched the debacle in interest. More lights were starting to illuminate along the road. In the struggle, Bella managed to wriggle around enough that she could see Hedford and saw a blonde woman in the distance staring at them with wide eyes.
The fat man brought a stumpy arm around her middle and picked her up as if one was picking up a feather. He threw her roughly into the still open door and her head hit the soft seat— hard. Bella sat up and glared murderously at Hedford through the window, who paid her no mind, instead walking over to Green and doubling over.
"Oh rook," Hedford wheezed, attempting to breathe from laughing so hard. "That is the funniest thing I have ever seen. Some little girl… on your ass. Oh rook, I'll never let you live this down, you hear me?"
The pair boarded the muggle contraption in the two front seats. The box suddenly lurched forward and Bella's body was thrown against the back seat.
"Sarge, it wasn't natural; I'm telling you. It was like… magic. She didn't push me that hard… It's impossible."
Hedford laughed harder. Tears ran down the side of his face.
Hedford suddenly turned the wheel sharply to the left, and Bella's head hit the seat next to her. Bella pushed her face against the seat to right herself. Hedford was chuckling, catching a glimpse of Bella over his shoulder.
"What is this contraption, you filthy cretins?" Bella yelled, outraged. "Let me out of here, this instant. I will not be present in this machine any longer!"
"Look girl," Hedford answered, still chuckling. "Technically we placed you under arrest for assault police. But I'm going to let that slide, you being a kid and all. Also, because that has to be the funniest thing I've ever seen, knocking Green on his ass." He looked over at Green, whose face resembled Bella's sentiments. "Really, I'd pay to see that again."
"I am not a child, you imbeciles!"
"That right, girl?" Hedford asked, his left hand raising and turning a mirror towards her. "Then how old are you?"
"I'm—" her voice suddenly trailed off when she managed to catch my reflection in the mirror. It was dark, making it hard to see, but it was unmistakable; an innocent looking child stared back at her.
Her straight black hair was longer, the front strands now gently curling and framing her face. The lines formed from years of constant stress— years in Azkaban prison— had vanished. Bella's grey eyes were innocent again— falsely alluding to the fact, with all the atrocities she had committed.
It was her. It was like looking into a mirror reflecting her youth.
Bella was hyperventilating— huge gasps of air, the sound echoing in the tiny vehicle. How could it be?
"Look, girl," Hedford continued, sending another glance over his shoulder. "We are going to take you to the hospital. They can decide what to do with you. I reckon they won't release you for a while, with you being cuckoo and all."
Bella didn't answer him— she couldn't, unable to form words.
"Can you tell me who your parents are?"
Bella looked down, sniffling, tears starting to ball in her eyes. Her emotions were definitely due to her age— they had to be. It was the only explanation.
"Girl, we want to help you; don't be scared."
It explained the inability to apparate. Maybe her magic was just too drained, too weak. It was most likely due to a lack of a wand, although who knows how long it had been since she had last used her magic?
"Well, look. We will check out our missing person records, for a kid named…Bella. See what we can find, okay?"
Bella shook her head. They wouldn't find anything.
"Can you tell me what the date is?" Bella asked, her voice quivering. Unbecoming.
"Sure, girl. It's Tuesday July 29th, 1994."
It wasn't possible. She had gone back in time, evidently — this was possible. That would put her at forty one years old. Bella reluctantly raised her head and caught her reflection in the mirror again. Definitely not forty one. Stars were starting to conform around her vision.
"We're here, Miss."
The white bricked building was truly vast, emphasised by the large semi-circle of white bricks extending from the main structure. It didn't serve a purpose, but it looked nice, Bella thought, welcoming the distraction. There were hardly any windows. A huge red sign read 'Emergency Department.' Muggle inventions were truly amazing. All without magic.
Hedford came around to the door and opened it, grabbing a fistful of her robe and pulling her out. "Alright, girl. Out you come."
"I can walk, muggle," Bella replied bitingly. She stepped back to pull the robe from his fat fingered grasp. He let her. "I'm not a cripple."
Hedford looked over at Green, a questioning look on his face. Green shrugged, starting to walk towards the glass doored entrance. Bella followed Green, rather reluctantly, Hedford taking to jabbing her in the back every time she slowed.
The glass doors opened into a large white room, chairs lining the sides of the walls and a huge glass window with a single soul sitting behind it. The woman brought her hands up and gestured them forward.
"Hello— oh, this must be young Miss Bella. Take her through the door to the usual spot, officers. Lay her down on any free bed. Someone will be in shortly."
The officers led Bella through some white double doors, and she was immediately blinded. Even in the late hours of the evening, the long, straight, empty hallway was brightly lit with a blinding white glow. Beeps echoed in the distance, some beeping frantically, some mellow. How they hadn't driven anyone insane, she didn't know. There was a horrible smell that Bella couldn't quite place.
The officers led Bella to another set of double doors off to the right of the hallway. It opened into a smaller rectangular room with a line of thin white sheeted beds on wheels. Two muggles stared at her from occupied beds as she was roughly corralled to the closest.
There was a sudden push on her back and Bella fell face first into the bed. Hands grabbed at her legs and they were roughly thrown on top to join the rest of her body. Bella rolled onto her side, glaring murderously at the closest muggle— Green. He recoiled back in fear.
The cold metal of the bracelets suddenly freed themselves from her wrists. She laid on her back, rubbing at them tenderly. Hedford put his bracelets in a pouch, laughing merrily.
"Never living this down, rook."
A man walked in from the entrance and approached with a long, silver metal tube around his neck. He grabbed it, putting the tubes into his ears, and placed a silver circle on her exposed chest, making her jump from the coldness. Apparently satisfied, he gestured for Bella to turn on her side, holding out a probe.
"And what, pray tell, do you plan on doing with that?" Bella asked, staring at the foreign device fearfully.
"I'm going to check your body temperature with this temperature probe, little Miss," he answered, staring back at her oddly.
Where he planned on sticking that probe, she didn't know. The blinding white room, the smell, the foreign instruments lining the walls, it was all too much. She was getting nauseous. Bella laid her head back, staring at the ceiling. Stars were starting to line the outside of her vision again.
Her body was hyperventilating, huge gulps of air; convulsing rapidly— Bella's body was betraying her again. She never feared anything. She was his most loyal Death Eater.
Bella brought up her hands and pulled at her hair frantically. Three pairs of hands grabbed her. Bella didn't want them to touch her. She kicked and flailed, and suddenly all three men flew back onto their behinds.
More white robes poured in now. They were strapping Bella to the bed, thick brown straps over her arms and legs, robbing her mobility. Her vision was getting blurry. Random voices were screaming over each other, getting fainter.
"—hyperventilating!"
"—into shock—"
"—hold her down!"
"—dose her, dose her!"
"—sedating now."
Bella was calm, so warm and tingly. She felt as if she was laying on a spongy cloud, weightless.
The light started to fade.
"See, Sarge? It's freaky. It's magic, I'm telling you!"
The light was gone.