Updated: Sunday 25th September 2006
A/N: Since this is the last 'chapter' of the 'Estella-verse' (for lack of a better name), I just want to take the opportunity to thank each and everyone of you who have read, reviewed and otherwise gotten my work out there over the past two years. I sincerely hope that this will come close to meeting your expectations (though I have an evil feeling that it won't…). JK Rowling may have provided me with the key to the playground, but it is you who have inspired me to write! Also, an extra special shout-out to my Beta for being such an honest, encouraging and enthusiastic filter for all my crazy ideas, enduring all my rants, and sticking with me this long! Words cannot describe the gratitude :) .
EpilogueEstella's memories of that night her mind had split between two bodies were hazy at best. She remembered very little of what had happened after the Death Eaters had congregated around her uncle and Draco at the moment of the Dark Lord's arrival; the same time Harry had stumbled across her prone form in the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place. The pain of the mortally wounding injuries inflicted upon her shadow form predominated her conscious thought, and she had struggled to maintain a grip on her reality. Her father's interruption had both served to anchor and distract her; the tendrils of the Dark Lord's Legilimency scarring her mind still as she struggled to recall what had happened in the moments before she had lost consciousness and, for a few moments at least, her very life.
She had 'died', according to her still-shaken godfather, for precisely one minute. When she'd suddenly come back to life with a deep, shuddering breath, her father had hugged her so tightly that she'd actually bruised. No one knew for certain just what brought Estella back; every now and then she'd catch glimpses of something in her dreams, and she'd secretly clung to the idea that her mother had had something to do with it, but there was just no knowing for sure. To say her loved ones were relieved of her survival would be a gross misstatement – they were beyond words – but Estella did not emerge from the ordeal entirely unscathed.
The 'wounds' that had fatally wounded her stand-in had vanished as soon as the link between the two forms was severed, but with the fake body's death came an inexplicable loss. Confined in her recovery, it had taken until after a week in the Hospital Wing for Estella to first realize it. Having recovered enough to warrant a midnight sojourn to the kitchen, she'd attempted a modest 'Lumos' with her wand, only to find that the precious sliver of wood felt like dead wood in her hand. Gone was the familiar spark… that warmth that flowed through her limbs when in contact with the finely crafted wand that channelled her magic. Magic that was no more.
Immediately assessed by a baffled Poppy Pomfrey, Estella was assured that her mind had sustained more lasting injuries and would simply take a little longer to recover. Sure enough, she slept more, remembered less, and was unreasonably irritable on occasion; but Estella was disinclined to believe that it was all only temporary. If the physical evidence was not enough, no one had seen Fawkes since the magnificent bird had retrieved the veil-travellers from beyond the archway, and Estella could no longer feel the indescribably intense connection she'd briefly felt with the magical creature in the moments between Dumbledore's death and her own temporary demise. There was some speculation, however unfounded, that the pure-hearted Phoenix had intervened when Estella's mind magics could not discern between the decoy body and her own; somehow assisting in bringing Estella back from the brink of death and incurring damage to its own magical reserves in the process. People felt that if they were to see Fawkes again, Estella's magic would return with it, but with Estella's memory of the events repressed and no one in their number a skilled Legimens, it was impossible to extract the details.
Upon becoming one of the very few to learn of her ordeal, Horace Slughorn had hovered around the closed wing like a mad scientist, keen to poke and prod the recovering teenager in an attempt to document the effects of the potion that had split her mind in two. He was of the firm belief that Estella's inability to consciously separate the two forms in her mind caused her magic to die along with her double, and that it would never return. Despite the fact that Estella had been quick to agree with the man, neither Sirius nor Remus had taken too lightly to the intrusive man's conclusions. Poppy had to ban the three men from appearing in the Hospital Wing at the same time after the Marauders' retribution had seen the Potions Master transfigured into a giant slug; one that left a gooey trail that smelt suspiciously like pineapple all throughout the ward.
Hogwarts, in the meantime, had been dismissed the day after Dumbledore's funeral, its future uncertain. Estella and Sirius did not attend the solemn ceremony; for at Estella's insistence they were to go along with the 'death' her uncle had fashioned for her – until she fully recovered, at least - and they could not risk her father acting to the contrary under such public scrutiny. As it were, very few people knew of the close relationship the 'late' Ravenclaw had with the school's former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Gryffindor's golden boy, so Harry and Remus were clear to attend the service, father and daughter remaining in the wing that had, since her admission, become strictly off limits to students.
Begrudgingly fulfilling his promise to the late headmaster, Harry departed the school with the rest of the students to spend the required two weeks with his relatives. With Hogwarts dismissed early, Dudley was still sitting his exams at Smeltings and the experience was almost passable for the beleaguered Gryffindor. His uncle had taken to completely ignoring him, and his aunt's mood was favourably tempered by the shortness of his stay. If not for the loss of Dumbledore, the trepidation he felt whenever he thought of the Horcruxes still out there and his worry for Estella – who at that time was still in the Hospital Wing – the visit had very nearly gone down as the best time he'd ever spent at Privet Drive.
Re-united within days of Estella being discharged, the bona fide family descended upon the south of France, intent on returning to the sunny cliff-top cottage. With Voldemort concentrating his efforts in northern England, and Harry becoming steadily proficient in Occlumency they were assured safety, and all were amenable to spending the summer and beyond within the protected wards of the modest vineyard property. It was during the first week of their summer there that the letter arrived, delivered to her by a distinctive black owl.
"Aquila!" Estella had almost fallen off the roof in shock. The sun had been down for almost two hours, and they'd been eating their ice cream cones on the roof, stargazing.
After her uncle's owl, Onyx, had passed on, and Estella had Hedwig, her mirror - and later Fawkes - to conduct her correspondence, she'd left her own owl in the care of her uncle. It was with a stab of guilt that she realised that she'd forgotten to enquire after the bird in the wake of her uncle's exile, and as she'd accepted the roll of parchment from the refined bird, she couldn't help but wonder how the bird had come in possession of its latest load.
Predictably, Sirius and Remus had immediately been on edge when they'd realised who the letter was for, and after insisting on checking the letter for any sign of magic, they reluctantly left the girl to her correspondence. Much to Estella's surprise, however, the letter was not from her uncle, as she had expected, but rather it was from the young Slytherin now in his charge.
'Dear Estella,' the letter read.
'Words cannot express how much I wish for this letter to find you in good health. Your uncle is still of the mind that something went terribly wrong with the potion, and that you suffered the same unimaginable fate as your shadow. That said, he is permitting me this one indulgence to give me an opportunity to say goodbye before I am Obliviated. I have been informed that my skills in Occlumency cannot withstand a pointed attack from someone as proficient as the Dark Lord, and I do not want to be responsible for your discovery.
'So here I am, writing to you for what could well be the last time. As soon as the owl leaves my sight I will no longer remember that you are alive at all, and so as much as it pains me to do so, I must implore you not to reply. It is very unlikely that I'll ever see my family, or my friends, again... and yet I can just tell that your loss will hit me the hardest. If I had one regret, it is that I didn't approach you by the school gates that fateful night. I could never have known it would be the last time we would be within sight of each other.
'Now, since I am to have no memory of even writing this letter, I feel no guilt in admitting this to you. Estella, you were right. My father is in prison, and I have no desire to follow in his stead; yet I have embarked upon a journey of which there is no returning. I cannot allow myself to feel regret, but I will admit that I am questioning my motives. I picture my father slowly losing his mind in Azkaban, with little hope of escape, and I can only imagine what Severus must be going through, upholding the facade of your death. What future lies ahead for those of us who serve a master who takes us away from all that gives life meaning?
In closing, Estella, I want to thank you for your fortitude over the years and for not judging me by my choices. I realise now that we do not share the same views on a lot of things, lest of all the same feelings towards each other. I know you probably think that I was conditioned from a young age to endear myself to you, but you mustn't discredit yourself. That first time we met, when you picked apart the flaws in my new potions lab when I was trying so hard to impress you, I knew you were different. From my experience, many lesser people would fear the Malfoy name, and social equals would feign politeness for their own means; after all no one is infallible and turnabout is fair play. You, on the other hand, truly are a force of nature; you've strength of character enough to value criticism, and embrace praise modestly.
In short, Estella, I like you for you, and it's always been that way.
May neither of us forget that.
Yours,
Draco Malfoy.
The letter was worn, having been opened and reread countless times in the weeks that followed. It still bothered Estella that her uncle hadn't written to her, but then Severus Snape was never a man of many words. The brief moments they'd shared, amidst pursuing Aurors and faking deaths, Estella knew that they had conveyed all that needed to be said. Severus Snape fled knowing that his niece still accepted him, and Estella, in turn, was assured of her uncle's approval; where she lived, with whom she associated... in sacrificing his involvement, he had given his consent.
Nearly two months on, and Estella still could not wrap her head around the idea of never seeing her uncle again. Already, she had gone the longest period in her life with absolutely no contact, and the reality of the situation was still sinking in. She missed her uncle terribly; from the companionable silence of each doing their own thing in front of the fire after a long day, to the lessons he imparted and the objective advice he had to offer. Though not a physically affectionate man, Estella simply missed being near him... she missed the comforting potions-in-the-dungeons smell that seemed to permeate through the man's pores, and could still feel the ghostly pressure of his hand as he adjusted her wand grip or walked alongside her on the slippery path from Hogsmeade.
Whilst those around her whispered and speculated about when and if her magic would return, Estella spent a lot of time alone, by the edge of the underground lake that filled one of the many caverns under the property. It was by the soft light of the magically-enhanced glow-worms that she would steal a glance at Draco's letter, often spending hours at a time staring sightlessly into the reflective water; the slightly damp smell of the atmosphere reminding her somewhat of the dungeons she had grown up in as she pondered her thoughts. For the most part, the adults left her alone when she disappeared below the kitchen floor, interrupting her only occasionally to ensure she received regular nourishment and did not catch a chill in the damp air. Estella knew that it was taxing on their resolve to permit her to be so introverted, and she was grateful for the time to get a grip on her new reality – it being particularly difficult to overcome the guilt that came with keeping news of her survival away from her friends. She didn't know how she would be able to process things if people were constantly plying her for information.
Fall approached, and the future of Hogwarts was still uncertain. The Order began to implement a contingency plan, issuing referrals to alternate schools in Europe and the Americas and lobbying the Ministry to provide a sponsored subsidy to meet any additional costs that disadvantaged families may incur. For security reasons, however, a number of families were making plans to home-school their children; and those of the Potter / Black household were no exception. Estella's marked lack of magic aside, the curriculum Harry would need to follow could not be found in the mainstream education system.
With the Ministry stepping up their procedures in the wake of the Department of Mysteries attack, it was necessary for Harry of all people to have a marked presence at Order meetings. After barely a few weeks reprieve, the steadily maturing teenager began splitting his time between their London home and their unplottable hideaway. Remus was officially assigned as Harry's bodyguard and Defence Tutor, with Tonks alternating that role for one week each month. Both were the only two trusted by both the Ministry and the Order who actually knew where Harry went when he was not in London, and they remained two of only a very small circle of Order members who knew that Estella was alive and Sirius, by her side.
Sirius remained, on official record, 'under extreme stress' after the loss of his daughter, effectively disappearing from public life. Estella's body, in turn, had never been recovered, though there was enough forensic evidence available to lend to the story that Fenrir Greyback had fatally attacked the child before meeting his own demise at the hand of a vengeful uncle. With Harry, Tonks and Remus coming and going from the cottage with their Order duties, Sirius was surprisingly content to sit on the sidelines and care for his magically defenceless daughter. Most mornings, in the few short hours before the sun got too high in the sky, father and daughter could be found working hard to restore the vintage vines that had grown wild for well over half a century.
When he wasn't stubbornly applying himself to distracting his daughter from her woes, cherishing every stolen and steadily more frequent glance he got of the Estella of old, Sirius was voraciously immersing himself in the little tasks that fortified the Order's plans away from the frontline. With the assistance of seemingly limitless funds and a little well-placed magic, he was buying up rundown Muggle homes and renovating them during the afternoons Estella either spent in solitude, or studying theory with Harry and Remus. He would then resell them at a profit, the proceeds in turn being channelled into the Order and used to set up nondescript Muggle safe houses for its members. Until this point, Sirius had always thought that he would get the most satisfaction of being on the frontlines, but with being able to mix his assignment with being with his family and staying safe, it was a worthy compromise. He had thoroughly enjoyed 'fixing up' the home he had bought with the money his Uncle Alphard had left him, and while he was staying away from Wizarding-Space Charms this time round, the same basic principles of taking something old and making it new again gave him a thrill. He got a lot of fulfilment out of the work, and those closest to him had to agree that the physical process of 'healing' something (in this case, a house) was somewhat symbolic, for the emotional scars of Azkaban would only fade with time.
Though it would be contrite to say that they were 'happy' – a war was, after all, raging around them – they were as content as they could be under the circumstances. Each person had a defined purpose, each feeling a sense of worth in their individual contributions to the war effort. Sirius was raising revenue and providing safe refuges for those at risk under a mask of anonymity. Harry was studying hard with his tutors and, with the help of the insight Dumbledore had given him into Tom Marvolo Riddle's life, assisting the Order in the identification and detection of the remaining four Horcruxes. His tutors, in turn, were gratified by the acknowledgement that they were potentially instilling the Boy-Who-Lived with the skills that would help him triumph; their indirect role in bringing down Voldemort considered an honour of the highest calibre.
Then, even without her magic, Estella was managing to make an impact. With so many of the Ministry's research departments shut down in order to shift all resources into the war front, the astute girl knew that, in coming years, there would emerge a gap in knowledge; and so she read. As time wore on, she spent less and less of her spare time alone underground, and more time under the shade of the tree closest to the cottage, making the most of the pleasant days whilst they lasted. With her book in her hand and Kneazle in her lap, she concentrated on memorizing the history of the incantations and familiarizing herself with Muggle school curriculum. Her aim was to gain an unparallel understanding of both worlds… not only in case her magic never came back, but also to try and find if there was something, anything, that they all were missing. It was her ultimate hope to devise a spell that would best help Harry in his quest; she may have been unable to test her experiments herself, but between her father, Tonks and godfather's respective sense of adventure, she had her pick of volunteers.
Before too long, Estella even began to catch herself thinking if she really even wanted her magic back at all. Without the encumbrance of a wand, she'd had no choice but to take a step back and allow others to protect her. She could completely absorb herself in her research without the distracting guilt that came with not taking advantage of the wand-based skills she had been taught from a young age. Of course she did miss her magic sometimes… everything from the little buzz she'd get when she'd hold her wand, to the convenience of a physically undemanding 'swish and flick'; but the more she got fulfilment from her theory-based work, the more she came to realize that there was so much more to the wizarding world than simply being able to wield a wand.
Eventually, Estella's family came to accept that their youngest member was not suffering any untoward effect of her magic's loss. Their main worry, at first, was that Estella would not be able to defend herself in an attack, but as they became firmly reacquainted with the safety of their refuge and began to see just how effective Muggle defences could be, their minds were put at ease. All still clung to the belief that Estella's repression was physiological and could come back at any time, but they just did not know enough about the events that unfolded to say that for certain. In the end, they were just relieved that the girl's condition – temporary or otherwise – had done nothing to dampen her spirit; for if anything Estella appeared more driven and settled than ever before and they could not help but love her for it.
There remained only one variable in all their lives… one shadow that threatened to put a wedge between the idyllic bonds they all shared. His name was Severus Snape. Officially 'wanted for questioning' over the deaths of Albus Dumbledore and Fenrir Greyback, the wizarding world at large had been quick to condemn the man, but while his actions had left a void in the Light's morale, it was nothing compared to what it did to the few closest to the man. Amongst those who formed the body of the unique blended family of Potters, Blacks and Lupins, Harry wanted to avenge Dumbledore, Remus was blaming himself for ever trusting the man instead of protecting Estella from him, and Sirius was secretly terrified that if the man himself did not come to claim his niece in the dead of the night, Estella herself might willingly go looking for him. He could not quite understand what possessed his little girl from remaining so loyal; to continue loving the man so unconditionally despite all he had done, but he could not fault her for having the heart to do so…
For love, as Dumbledore had told Harry, was an emotion the Dark Lord knew not, and only so long as they loved would they be different from their enemies. With very little blood ties between them, Estella knew that it was unconditional love that tied her vagabond family together. The love and support of his friends had given Remus the strength to withstand the painful transformations of his youth. The love of his parents had saved Harry's life in infancy. The love of and for a daughter kept the ghosts of Azkaban from claiming Sirius' sanity. The love for her family had shone like a beacon when the darkness of the veil had begun to plague Estella. It had given them hope when all was lost, shown them happiness amidst a war of no such reprieve… and it would see them through.
END
A/N: All right, I am aware that there are probably still a few niggly things that were left unresolved. I wish to apologise for those of you who were hoping to discover whether or not Draco and Narcissa ever found out their relationship with Voldemort, but it was never really their story. Before her 'death', Estella had told no one (she carefully edited that which she 'showed' her uncle, by the school gates) and in my mind she no longer consciously remembers the exchange. I daresay she is too preoccupied with other things on her mind...
I had, in particular, wanted to include a final reflection from Severus' POV, but as I felt that would be encroaching a little too much on the course of canon (since we don't see any more of Snape after that confrontation with Harry) it was a deliberate choice to remain ambiguous. I know a few of you will be up in arms by the insinuation that he will never see his niece again, but the way I see it, to give her up (for her own safety & well being) is probably the most unselfish and loving sacrifice he could ever have made. And knowing Estella, the moment the war is over and the wizarding world is far too preoccupied celebrating Voldemort's demise to hunt down Dumbledore's killer, you don't think she'd take it upon herself to track him down? Before you jump to conclusions, I must say, emphatically, that there are no plans to write said post-war story… or, in the foreseeable future, any fic containing the character Estella Black. I leave it up to the collective minds of you, my dear readers, to imagine for yourselves whatever will happen next. In the meantime, I do have several other new fics in the works… check out my Author's Profile for details, and a launch-date.