Chapter Forty-Eight: The Light She Couldn't Find

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She was running. Though she couldn't say where. To something, away from something? She thought it was to something, but it never seemed to get closer. And beneath her the ground sloped up, the incline impossible. Her feet stuck to the earth. Every step was a struggle.

"...la."

Some distant, nonsensical noise grazed her ears. It didn't matter. It meant nothing,

She hurried forward, as much as the sloping earth would allow. Siggy was up ahead. Yes, Siggy was waiting. Siggy was—

"Ella."

The brightness blurred, flashing to black for the space of a breath.

She was Ella, wasn't she? Yes, yes. She was Ella.

Whose voice was that?

The brightness was fracturing, like the plate she'd dropped once when she was twelve. And wasn't that ever so odd? Because she could feel every single piece of that glass right then, digging into her.

Was the sky made of glass?

"Ella!"

She jolted, and the brightness of her landscape fell away. Simply melted, like falling water. And she blinked awake into the dark.

Confusion overwhelmed her. An afterdream grogginess. The darkness was disorienting. Terrifying. And before she could process it, pain flared in bits and spurts. A prickling in her arm. A throbbing in her head. A suffocating tightness in her chest. Something was pressing against it, heavy and immovable. She could feel the weight of it every time she tried to breathe. She gasped, struggling against it as her arm burned.

"It's all right." The voice was familiar. An icy hand squeezed her shoulder, making her shudder. "Just breathe."

"Harry?" she gasped, staring wildly into the black. The effort cost her. She couldn't seem to draw in enough air.

"Almost. It's me, Ells."

She stilled, the familiar nickname settling her somewhat. Her heart was pounding in her ears as the darkness pressed against her. And the fight trailed away, leaving space for the memories to creep in in painful flashes. Siggy's betrayal. Voldemort, and his fury. Siggy's body.

She drew in a gasping breath, trying to still her trembling. To block out the cascade of noises that now overwhelmed her. Ominous creaking. Scraping. Trickling. The darkness around her seemed to shudder and shake.

"Dan," she choked out.

"Yeah." He sounded strange. Strained.

She coughed. Tasted dust on her tongue. "The house." She couldn't quite bear to say Siggy's house. "Is it…?"

"Yeah, Ells. We're buried."

The weight on her chest was crushing. She could see the shape of it take form as her eyes adjusted to the dark. A beam. A beam on her chest! Cold fear shot through her. "What about the others?" Were they buried under some piece of house, too? Or worse?

Was that why Harry hadn't come?

"I dunno." Daniyel's voice was rough. A rasp.

"And Voldemort?" Her stomach clenched. "Is he still…?"

"I didn't see anything after…"

He trailed off, and Ella lay still and tried to breathe, and wondered which After he was referring to. After Voldemort had blown up Siggy's cottage? Or after he'd let Siggy's lifeless body fall to the earth? She didn't dare ask. Couldn't bear to, anyway. Instead, she stared into the dark, trying to make sense of the shadows. To take stock of her aching muscles and limbs. Her arm was on fire, pinned beneath her. She struggled to free it, hissing at the pain. The wreckage above her shuddered.

"Easy," Daniyel said softly, and his hand found her shoulder again. "Are you hurt?"

"Probably," she admitted, turning her head very slightly in the direction of his voice. Her entire shoulder throbbed. Her chest was so tight she could barely breathe.

"You're burning up. Did she… what did she do to you?"

"Nothing." She finally managed to free her arm, and blood rushed back into it with such intensity she nearly sobbed. The beam above her creaked threateningly, digging into her hip. Her shaking fingers stretched outward, trailing across sharp bits of brick and jagged wood. They were buried beneath a house. And Siggy was dead. And Daniyel was pretending she was a stranger. "She didn't hurt me, Dan." Her voice cracked. "Not after she took me, anyway. She was holding him back. Until she couldn't anymore."

Daniyel was silent for a long moment. So long that, if not for the feel of his hand on her shoulder, she would have thought she was alone. When he finally spoke, his voice shook so hard it was barely recognizable.

"She's the one who did it. She brought him back." It wasn't a question.

"She did," Ella agreed, a tear running silently down her cheek. "She transferred his soul fragment. From the tiara."

"And Mysteries?" He sounded like he was scared to hear the answer.

"That too," she whispered, and Daniyel choked out a barely audible curse. She couldn't bring herself to say anything else. Just thinking of the hours they'd spent together made her want to curl up and cry. And how was that fair to him?

Which part of any of this was fair?

"What happened, Ella?" His voice was shaking. "Why? Why did she take you? Did she—"

"She didn't want to." There had been regret in Siggy's face. In her story. Ella was sure that it had been regret.

"Did he… force her?"

"No." Her eyes were stinging again. She felt a wetness on her cheeks. "It's complicated. She… didn't deserve that."

"Didn't she?" His voice cracked, like shattering glass.

"Dan…" she whispered. "Please, believe me. She tried to stop it. She didn't want this."

Daniyel said nothing, though she could hear his shuddering breaths as he fought to regain control. She thought of all the things she could add. Should add, really. Because he deserved to hear them. But she couldn't quite bear to do it then. Instead, she moved her arm slowly through the wreckage until her fingers found his. She squeezed as hard as she could, until she felt the pressure of his hand squeezing her back.

"When this is all over, I'll—" She coughed and drew in a painful breath. "I'll explain. I swear."

She lay still, feeling the weight of the house press down on her. Listened to its threatening creaks. The darkness lessened slowly. She could see the shapes of more beams take form. Beams laying sideways or at awkward angles. Edges jagged. Scattered pieces of brick. Bits of broken furniture. She turned her head to stare at their hands, still clasped together; tracing the lines of his arm until she saw his face take form in the shadows. He was laying just two feet away, his head turned toward hers. And above him, pieces of house stretched up until they vanished into shadow.

"Dan? Can you move? Can you reach your wand?"

He drew in a shaky breath before answering. "It's broken, Ells." He paused as her stomach sank. "And I can't feel my wand arm."

"Oh no, Dan," she whispered, aghast. "I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm sorry." His voice cracked. "I'm the one who's sorry."

"You've nothing to be sorry for."

"I should've realized," he insisted. "I could've stopped this. I was—"

"I trusted her, too." Ella shook her head, which served only to increase her headache. "You don't understand." It wasn't his fault. If anything, it was hers. "It's me. I'm the one… responsible…"

There was a sudden creak, and the beam above her shifted. The pressure on her chest abruptly doubled. She gasped, the air growing scarcer in her lungs.

"Ells?" Daniyel called, fear sharpening his voice. "Ella?"

She couldn't make a sound. She struggled to draw in a breath, her hands scrabbling weakly at the enormous beam. It was like trying to push off an elephant.

"Ella!" Daniyel repeated, louder now. She heard the scrape of something heavy and a pained grunt. Saw him shifting in the corner of her eye before everything grew darker again. Blurrier. The beam suddenly weighed ten times as much.

Her lungs burned.

She would die here.

Her mind was foggy, with just that one thought slicing through. This was it. She would be crushed beneath this house. She would not beat her cancer, or Voldemort.

She would not see Harry again.

She didn't want that…

Daniyel's face swam above hers. She saw him throw his shoulder into the beam. Push against it. She felt nothing.

He was blurring, his shape fading to black. There was no more air. This was it.

She wouldn't even say goodbye.

"No…" Her lips formed the word, though she didn't hear a sound. Her arms were heavy. Too heavy to hold up. She felt the sting as they fell back against the littered ground. She didn't want to go. Not like this. A hand closed over hers.

"Ella, I'm here."

It was warm. Thrumming with life.

With magic.

Something sparked to life within her, and she reached for him. Not with her hand, but with something inside.

And all it once, it flared within her. The magic she hadn't been able to touch. It coursed through her in waves. Cascading. Bursting from her. She could feel it burn against her hands. Daniyel gasped, and his hand jerked within hers, but she barely noticed. She was fifteen again, in the clearing with Harry. Magic bursting out of her. And she was alive.

She released it.

The magic exploded outward, and everything became suddenly bright. And terribly loud. A grinding, clattering roar filled her ears. She couldn't even make sense of the sounds. The pressure on her chest abruptly vanished. She could breathe, but this seemed hardly relevant. Because magic flowed through her like blood, and nothing else mattered.

It seemed to last forever; this uncontrollable energy roaring and tumbling around her. Burning everything. If not for Daniyel's hand still holding hers, anchoring her to the earth, she was sure it would burn her away too.

And then it quieted. Slowly at first.

The brightness began to fade. Then the roaring diminished. Until she could make out individual bangs and thuds and crashes. She blinked, the world around her trickling back in wisps and whispers. The first thing she saw was sky. A beautiful, brilliant, blue.

She stared up at it, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest. Residual magic still coursing through her like adrenaline.

"Merlin, Ells…"

Daniyel's face appeared above her, blocking out some of the sky. He stared, shock evident in his features. "You did that."

"Yeah," she breathed, though it wasn't really a question.

She lay still, watching the clouds drift overhead. Everything was still too bright. Her entire body felt heavy. Spent. She struggled to raise a hand, staring at her palm. Nothing strange there. A bit of blood. A lot of dirt. No visible magic. Her fingers were trembling.

She glanced away, turning her head from Daniyel and the sky. She saw flashes of green. Grass. And beyond that, wreckage. Piles of bricks. A giant, jagged beam laying on its side, the top burnt black. She realized she was panting. Taking great, gasping breaths that echoed in her chest. She pushed against the ground, struggling to rise.

"Ells, you shouldn't—"

"Help me up," she insisted, grasping his hand. Pulling until he stumbled. "I have to… have to see."

"All right." He reached for her, managing to pull her to her feet. She stared, her mouth dropping as she leaned against him. The world swam, but not enough to hide what she had done. They were in a crater. And pieces of Siggy's broken house were scattered outwards in every direction she looked. Dust hovered in the air, growing thicker with distance, until it formed a seamless wall. And somewhere in that darkness, things still crashed and creaked and shifted. As she stared, a piece of torn fabric fluttered down, catching against the burnt beam.

"Oh my god," she said softly. Her knees felt weak and she stumbled, catching herself against Daniyel's arm. Her head was spinning. "I did that. I…"

She'd sent it all flying. Just like Voldemort.

What if she hurt them?

She couldn't hold on to the thought. Her mind swirled with a dizzying intensity.

"You saved us." Daniyel's arm was tight around her. Thankfully tight. It was the last thing she felt as the world tilted and she fell forward. Finally slipping into the black.