Starry skies and Gardenias

Chapter 43

Mr Weasley put down his paper, and Harry saw the now-familiar picture of Sirius Black staring up at him.

"They still haven't caught him, then?" he asked.

"No," said Mr Weasley, looking extremely grave. "They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far."

"Would we get a reward if we caught him?" asked Ron. "It'd be good to get some more money —"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," said Mr Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."

Isabella had finally managed to go to sleep, and the rather bothersome clock in her room had decided to wake her up.

"Up, up, you numpty!" the clock cried. "The sun isn't going to wait around for you. Up!"

Isabella spared the clock a glare before getting to her feet, stifling a yawn. 

As she brushed her teeth, Isabella couldn't get the image of Sirius Black she had seen on that wanted-poster out of her mind.

A great supporter of Voldemort. . .A madman. . .Killed thirteen people with one curse. . .

Sirius Black? 

It was as believable as Dumbledore being a dark wizard. Simply not possible. . .

But there was a gap of two decades. Anything could have happened in those years. Something very grave must have happened because these happy kids turned into sad, pitiable adults. 

Isabella sighed as she made her way downstairs. 

The future she was seeing was hers too, she hadn't forgotten that. Assuming that she would still be alive, the future she was seeing was hers too. . .Well, if that was how the future was to be, then she should provide Harry all the help she can. Since he would be the only one who can defeat Voldemort.

"Morning, Bella," Tom said brightly. 

"Good morning," Isabella said taking a seat at the table. 

"Thank you," she said when Tom brought her breakfast. The innkeeper gave a funny little bow and hurried away to tend to his other customers. 

The Deathly Hallows. . .The more she thought of it, the more it seemed to be true. It couldn't all be a coincidence, could it? 

She too had once thought that the possible answer would be that the possessor of the three Hallows would be the master of Death. It was a theory she had come up with. The answer had come to her naturally, about a year ago or so, but at that time she was less experienced and less knowledgeable about magic.

The more she learnt about magic, she had slowly started dismissing her theories. They seem whimsical when she looked back at them.

Exactly, death is not something to be bested. Everything that comes onto this earth, with time must leave. 

Master of Death? That was rather ridiculous. 

. . .But it never said that the Master of Death wouldn't die, did it? The third brother, apparently, Ignotus Peverell, he treated death as an old friend. He didn't try to escape or defy death, but he accepted it as a part of the journey of life. 

"Hello," she said pushing the door to the shop open.