I fall in and out of consciousness, if you can call it that. I prefer the word memories, which I relive as if they are happening to me once again. I see the scenes out in front of me as if I am living them again, every sound and sight and smell replayed for me. Except I'm not really in them. I am a ghost, unseen and unheard. It's like I've stepped into the pensieve, and I'm rewatching my entire life before my eyes.
A few memories stick in my mind more than others.
In the first, I am a small child of perhaps five, watching as my older brothers open their Christmas presents. That was always the way we did it in my household, Bill would open his present first, followed by Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, then Ron and I, then Ginny. In those days, Bill and Charlie were the only two at Hogwarts, but they always used to come home for Christmas, and we would spend it all together. Ginny was still a small child bouncing on Mum's lap whilst the boys opened their presents, and Ron was a boisterous child who would clamber all over our elder brothers to get a look at their gifts. In the memory, he gasped in delight at a miniature fire-breathing dragon that Charlie had been given, and scoffed at a watercolour painting set that Percy humbly accepted. We never had much money, but Mum and Dad always found ways to make do.
I sat at my father's feet in the memory, with him stroking my hair absent-mindedly as he watched the boys argue over whose jumper was better. Fred and George were prodding Percy - who liked to take his time in unwrapping each present - to hurry up, and Ron was even worse. He moaned at Mum that it wasn't fair that he had to wait, and that he had to go nearly last every year.
"It's because you're the smallest boy, Ronnie," Bill teased him. Ron retorted by punching our older brother in the ribs, although Bill barely even flinched.
Eventually, it came to be Ron and my turn, and I watched as the child me carefully unwrapped a present to find a purple jump with a large J knitted onto it, courtesy of Mum. It looked like the same pattern that she had used for the older boys, so of course it was huge on me, but I didn't care. I merely beamed up at her, my front tooth missing, and pulled it over my head proudly. "Thank you Mummy," I called in my child's voice. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek lovingly. "It's quite alright, my beautiful girl."
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In the next memory, I had just turned eleven, and lying in a field at Easter time with Cedric beside me. Our hands were entwined, as they always were when we were together. I was talking to him about my worries for attending Hogwarts in September.
"Bill says that there are lots of ghosts at Hogwarts, who like to eat little girls at night," I had told him matter-of-factly. Ced had thrown back his head of bronze hair and laughed loudly. "Your brother is fibbing to you, Jule. There are ghosts at Hogwarts, it's true, but I've never heard of them eating anybody. In fact, I don't think they eat anything!"
The eleven year-old me sat up and pulled at a patch of grass. "Will you still be my friend Ced, even if I'm not in Hufflepuff with you and I'm two school years below you?"
Cedric sat up too and smiled down at me. "Jule, you're my best friend. I'm not going to ditch you just because you get sorted into Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or god forbid, Slytherin!" He pulled a teasing face at the Slytherin, but the younger me had pouted my lip seriously and crossed my arms across my chest. "I won't get sorted into Slytherin!" I stated sharply. Cedric laughed and ran a hand through his hair, clutching his sides at my reaction. "What if you do? What would your Mum say?"
I remembered a shot of fear shooting through me, and then the younger me smiled and shook my head. "It won't happen. But even if it did, Mum would still love me. She's already told me that she won't mind what house I'm sorted into, although Gryffindor like my brothers would be nice."
Cedric chuckled and plucked a daisy from the grass. "Well, I definitely won't care what house you're in. You're my best friend Jule, and you will be forever.
"Always."
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The final vision isn't a memory, because I know that it has never happened. It's what could have been, had I accepted the Dark Lord's offer, or had none of this ever happened in the first place.
I am watching a slightly older version of myself, perhaps in my twenties. A golden wedding band sits around my finger, and my dark hair has been tied back away from my face with a golden ribbon. I'm dressed in a long white nightgown, and in my arms there is a bundle of white swaddling cloth. At closer inspection, it's clear to see the face of a baby - my baby - buried within it, his blue eyes open and staring up at his mother in wonder. He is a beautiful baby, and my heart bursts with pride as I watch him.
The door opens, and in walks Draco. He looks tired - his blonde hair is dishevelled and there are bags beneath his eyes - but he looks completely and utterly ecstatic. He grins as he lays his eyes on me and the baby, and approaches carefully, sitting down on the bed and kissing our son's forehead tenderly. "My boy," he whispers, shutting his eyes for a moment as the baby gurgles in delight. Then he lifts his head and kisses me, with so much love that it makes my heart flip in my chest just watching him. "My wife," he adds.
"Have you chosen a name for our son yet, love?" he asks as he strokes the boy's cheek softly. I purse my lips and then smile. "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy," I whisper. The boy's lips twitch, as if he likes the name, and Draco nods in approval. "Scorpius," he murmurs as he reaches out and strokes our son's cheek again. "Yes, it's a good name. A strong name."
I gaze down at my baby and kiss his adorable button nose. Scorpius blinks a few times and then coos loudly, making Draco and I laugh in adoration. "He's our son, Draco," I mutter in amazement, the bundle in my arms wriggling slightly. "He's our boy."
"And he's beautiful," Draco adds.
The real me tries to step towards the baby, but I am stuck to the spot. I cannot move, nor talk. But I could have sworn that little Scorpius' head turned towards me, the real me, and that he saw through the dimensions of time and space that separated us and he saw me.
I wanted to hold him, to kiss him and love him.
But I couldn't, because I was dead.
That was when I woke up.
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When you're alive, you don't notice every small detail.
The wind in your hair, the sound of laughter in your ears, the smell of freshly cooked bread and the first sight of spring. You take that for granted when it's always there.
When you're dead, when there's nothing, you realise what you had, and you crave it. It hurts more than anything in life ever did; knowing that you'll never feel the wind, hear the laughter, smell the bread or see spring again. That you're going to miss all of those little things and so much more because in death, there is nothing.
The first thing I noticed about death is that it isn't black, like I thought it would be. Instead, I find that I am in a large space that has no end, it seems to go on forever. Everything is white here, even though there is nothing but space. The white is blinding at first, but then I grow used to it. I'm not sure how long I've been here, only that it's all I remember, and that a great measure of time has passed since I first opened my eyes.
Is this what Heaven is meant to be? Or have I been condemned to Purgatory, my sins far outweighing my good deeds. Is this what death is like for everyone, or is this personal to me?
A thousand questions fill my head, but there is no way to answer them, because there is nothing here but me and the white space.
I look down at myself and see that I am dressed peculiarly. It's strange because it isn't clothes I'm wearing - rather it is like a cloud that has wrapped itself around my body, covering me from my chest to my ankles. My bare shoulders are warm, as if the sun of a summer's day is beating down on them, but there is no sunlight to do such a thing. Strange.
My cuts and bruises have healed, the only mark of my former self remaining being the dark mark on my forearm. I suppose there are some things that even death cannot erase. My hair hangs loose down my back, swaying slightly in an invisible breeze that I can't feel. But none of that is the most peculiar thing. It's that when I look down at the Malfoy locket hanging around my neck, I find that it's open.
The locket doesn't open. The powerful magic within it that links me to Draco keeps it sealed. It can't be open.
But it is, and as I touch it I find that it's cold. Why is it cold when it should be hot? Is it because I'm dead now?
"Hello, Andromeda."
I look up from the locket and see that a girl has appeared. I don't know her face, but I feel as if I've known her my entire life. Her voice is so familiar to me, but I can't place where I've heard it before.
My hand moves automatically to the locket, and then I remember. It was her voice I heard in my head when I was communicating to Draco through the piece of jewellery. It was her that kept the link between us.
She was the locket.
She was beautiful. Her hair was long and blonde, falling well past her hips and decorated with green flowers. Her eyes were a vibrant shade of green - the same colour as the gems on the locket's casing - and her skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow. She was dressed in a white gown which looked similar to the dresses that the medieval ladies in my history books wore. She seemed to glow in an ethereal way, and I found that I had caught my breath as she approached. She was truly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
She held out a slim hand to me, and smiled softly as she helped me to my feet. Her hand was cold to touch - like the locket - but comforting nonetheless. I felt as if I knew her better than anybody else.
"My name is Cassiopeia," she said gently, smiling at me. I stared at her, unsure of what to say. Cassiopeia laughed, the sound like an orchestra of bells, and then squeezed my hand. "Walk with me, and I will explain."
I followed her eagerly, desperate to know the answers to so many questions.
"I think you know the story of how this locket came into being," she started, gesturing to the open Malfoy locket around my neck. "It was me that it was created for. I was born in the 12th century, and I attended Hogwarts, just like you. I was sorted into Slytherin House, and it was there that I met Atticus Malfoy.
"He looked very similar to your Draco; tall with blonde hair and handsome grey eyes. And he loved me from the first moment we met. He vowed to me in our first year at Hogwarts even that should the time ever come, he would gladly die for me. It soon became evident that I felt the same.
"When we finished school, our parents gave permission for us to marry. Atticus gave me that locket as a wedding gift, and told me that he had trapped part of his magic within it, so that should anything ever happen to him, I would always be safe. He was a very powerful wizard - greater even than this Albus Dumbledore and the one who calls himself Lord Voldemort. But history forgot him because he died young; only a year into our marriage."
Her voice was thick with grief. I squeezed her hand supportively, and wondered how strong their love must have been for her to still love him 900 years after his death.
"I was pregnant when Atticus died, and I had a son who I named Atticus II after his father. My boy grew up into a handsome man - the image of his father - and then one day he brought a girl to me that he wished to marry. That was when I gave him the locket, and he gave it to her, and the tradition began."
She wistfully reached out and touched the locket, although her hand seemed to pass through it, as if she wasn't really there.
"Nobody ever opened the locket though - there was never any love strong enough. That was until Draco gave his life for you, and you gave yours to be with him. There has never been a greater love - not since Atticus and I - and so the locket couldn't take it. The curse that killed you forced the locket open, and Atticus' magic out."
I frowned and tried to process her thoughts. "So... I'm dead? Then how are we talking?"
Cassiopeia smiled tenderly. "In a form. But there is a way back. It all depends on whether you want to return or not."
"I have a choice?" I exclaimed. Cassiopeia nodded slowly. "I can send you back. Atticus' power is channeled through me - resurrecting the dead is something well within his power. Atticus knew a sort of ancient magic that has been long since forgotten, and bringing back those who had passed to the other side was included in that."
I thought about her offer, then remembered the reason I had surrendered. Draco was dead, and I could not live without him. "No," I said finally. "Not without Draco. He's a part of me, as you well know, and what would be the point of me living a half-existence - I might as well be dead."
Cassiopeia studied me carefully. "You suffered a lot," she commented, her green eyes studying me closely as if she could see into my soul, which she most likely could. "I remember how I felt when I lost Atticus, and I felt how you felt when you lost Draco."
She looked down at her feet. "It was more painful being linked to you than to anybody else who has worn me over the past 9 centuries, do you know that? Every time you thought of Cedric, Charlie, your father, Millicent, Fred, Sophia and all the other people you have lost, I felt it too, and it hurt me so badly." She stepped closer to me, and lifted my chin with her hand. "But I also felt the same joy you did, the excitement and the pride. But mostly I felt the love; the love you bear for Draco and all those you care about. It reminded me of how I felt for Atticus, and it made bearing all of your pain worthwhile."
Cassiopeia released me and then turned away, pacing slightly as if she was conflicted. "What to do, what to do," she muttered to herself, her eyebrows furrowed deeply in thought. I stayed silent as she contemplated whatever dilemma she was facing, waiting patiently for her answer. I was dead after all - I had all the time in the world.
Eventually she spun around and sighed. "There is something that I can do. But there is a great cost, Andromeda, and it is not something that you should lightly pay."
I frowned and stepped forward. "What is it? What can you do? What's the price?" I babbled. Cassiopeia smiled faintly at my desperation, then took a deep breath, and studied me once more with those emerald eyes. Then, she began.
"I can bring back Draco, and all of the others you have lost, in the same way that I can bring back you..." she whispered. "But life costs death, and in exchange for these lives, there is a great and terrible cost.
"Seven souls for seven souls," she hissed, as if she couldn't believe what she was saying.
"In exchange for seven resurrections, you must pay with seven souls. Although perhaps only one death will suffice," she mumbled, her voice riddling and strange. I frowned to myself. She could really do it? She could bring us all back.
"Your friend Millicent has already moved to the other side, and beyond my reach..." Cassiopeia added ruefully. "She accepted death with open arms, and only moments ago I watched her pass from the spirit world between the lands of the living and the dead. She only waited this long so that she could support you in your final moments, and now she is rested in peace. It is cruel to bring back those that are already at rest.
"However the rest of your loved ones still dwell there, and I am able to bring them back. But you must remember the price, Andromeda. Seven souls for seven souls - your own included in that bargain - although only one need die."
I lingered on her words. "Only one..." I muttered to myself. Then her riddle clicked into place. "The Dark Lord? His soul is split into seven pieces!"
Cassiopeia smiled and nodded slowly. "Yes child. Kill the Dark Lord, and the payment will be made. It must be by your hand that his final horcrux is destroyed, or the payment won't be from you."
I stopped for a moment. She could bring me back, but more importantly she could bring back Draco, Cedric, Charlie, Fred, Sophia and my father?
All I had to do was kill the snake, provided that Ron or Hermione hadn't already done so. Granted, I knew how difficult destroying horcruxes was, but it was worth a try in exchange for Draco, Cedric, Father, Charlie, Sophia and Fred coming back to life!
Cassiopeia cleared her throat and then sighed again. "There is something else, however. Bringing back six of these souls is no difficulty for me, but the deep emotional bond you share with Draco makes it very difficult to barter with the spirits that will have to give him up. They seldom see a love like yours, and so won't give it up for a small price."
My excitement halted as I glared at her and clenched my fists. "What will they want from me?"
She looked down at my hands and took them into her own, turning them over and examining them carefully. Then she let them fall, and looked back up again. "Your magic."
I caught my breath. "My... my magic?"
She nodded her head, and then stepped away from me as if she couldn't bear to be so close to my heartbreak. My magic was what made me special - it was what set me above the rest of my siblings and so many others. Without it, what would I be? A squib? A muggle?
Could I live as a normal person? Squibs were treated better nowadays, it's true, but you only had to look at Mr Filch to see how awful his life was. He couldn't even use magic to clean up the castle; everything had to be done by hand. Would that be my fate from now on, condemned to be nothing more than Filch's assistant? Would Draco still even love me without my magic - he hated squibs and always would. I wasn't sure if he could love me if I was ordinary.
Then I stopped, and remembered.
Draco was dead, because of me. Because he'd jumped in front and tried to protect me. I owed him this, even if he never wanted to see me again for giving up my greatest gifts. Even if I failed to overthrow the Dark Lord and Draco killed me himself, I had to give him his life back. I owed it to Narcissa, to Blaise, even to Lucius, who loved his son despite what his previous actions might indicate. My magic would be worth nothing if Draco was dead, just like my life.
"What about Harry?" I whispered. Cassiopeia watched as my shoulders slumped, and the hope left me. "He died too - and he must be worth a lot more than anybody else."
"Harry Potter's soul is worth more than a regular person's, I will grant that," she replied thoughtfully. "But you will not have to barter for it. Harry Potter is alive, although not by anything of my doing."
I gasped in surprise. "What? He survived? Again?!"
Cassiopeia smiled and nodded. "The part of the Dark Lord that resided within him died when the Dark Lord killed Harry Potter, leaving the rest of Harry's soul untouched. He has awoken whole, and more of himself than he has been for 16 years."
I covered my mouth with my hands and chuckled slightly. "He really is the Boy Who Lived," I breathed. Cassiopeia inclined her head and folded her hands in front of her. "And now you can be the Girl Who Lived. Do you agree to these terms? Will you kill the snake, and pay for the souls I will give you? Will you surrender your magic and live for the rest of your days without it?"
I tried not to think about all of the things I would miss out on without magic, and made myself nod. For Draco, I repeated in my head again and again. For Draco I would do anything, and this was a small price to pay for his life.
Cassiopeia nodded back, then stepped forward and kissed each of my cheeks slowly. "Be brave then, Andromeda. The magic within the locket will be gone forever now; it will be no more than a pretty trinket. But I should like you to keep it, in reminder of the promises you have made here today." I stared down at the locket and watched as Cassiopeia took it into her slender hands, and closed them around it. "Live a good life now, Andromeda. Make it worthwhile, and appreciate what I have given you. You've earned it, my dear."
A ball of green magic - identical now I realised to the colour of the last spell I'd seen and thought to be the Killing Curse, but in reality was the locket exploding - rose from between her hands and began to circle around the locket. She muttered words in a language that was both beautiful and terrifying, a language that I'd never heard before and didn't sound human. I shuddered as I watched the magic grow, so much more powerful than anything I'd ever seen before. There was an essence to it that didn't exist in the magic that was around nowadays, the only thing being anything like it being the Elder Wand, and the patronus that Professor Dumbledore had been able to conjure with it. It was magnificent and daunting, and I found myself shutting my eyes because it was that strong.
"Be brave then, Andromeda," Cassiopeia's words rang in my ears again and again. I went to open my eyes one last time, to say goodbye to her, but found that they were clamped shut. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. I was falling again, as I had when I was died.
Falling, falling, falling.
Then nothing is everything, and I am alive.
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So do you guys love me again? You must have known that I couldn't let go of Juliet and Draco that easily right? I'm not that heartless! And did you like the little twist? Do you really think that Cassiopeia can do it, and she'll bring back everybody Li has lost?
Let me know in the comments!
The next chapter will be up next week some time!