The Girl Who Lived: Shadows Die Twice

Oleandra woke up screaming to unimaginable pain— or at least, she would have, had her voice not gone completely extinct. For a few minutes, she could only lie on the floor, slipping in and out of consciousness; too weak to move. Her nerves still felt like they were on fire, but pain meant that she was still alive.

She had thought herself dead, but she was still here— still alive!

Gradually, her memories returned to her one by one— she had grabbed onto the man disguised as her father as he Disapparated with her sisters, and she had been taken along for the ride with him. And then… and then…

Voldemort had tortured her, and then she had died— at the hand of Peter Pettigrew's… Airgetlám. His silver hand.

With one supreme effort, Oleandra managed to turn herself onto her back, feeling the warm light of the morning sun bearing down on her face. She paused for a few moments to catch her breath, and then she felt around in her pockets— the Death Eaters hadn't bothered to remove a dead girl's personal items, so her wand and her pouch were still there.

But she barely had enough energy to move, and she had lost her voice, so magic was out of the question for the immediate future.

Oleandra observed the unfamiliar ceiling above her. There were two gaudy crystal chandeliers hanging over her head, and she could see a long table to her right, and a fireplace to her left. An escape route, but she had to find her sisters first…

"An honour?" came a woman's sobbing voice from upstairs. "It's not an honour, Bella, it's a death sentence!"

"It is an honour, Cissy," another woman's voice insisted. "Draco should be proud to have been chosen as a guardian! Proud to participate in such a monumental undertaking!"

Oleandra had to move; the women's voices were drawing nearer.

She summoned all of her strength, and she began dragging herself out of the pool of crusty blood in which she lied, pulling herself forward with her elbows and crawling out of sight under the dinner table. Thankfully, the heat from the fireplace had dried up her bloodstains overnight, so she didn't leave a bloody trail behind her, like some sort of snail…

"But he doesn't stand a chance!" the woman named Cissy bawled— her voice suddenly becoming distinct as she opened a door and walked into the dining room. "I have to do something for my son!"

Curiously enough, even though Oleandra could hear two voices, she could only see one pair of legs from her hiding place under the table.

"As soon as the rest of my body is restored," the woman named Bella said patiently, "I'll help with his training, so that he may better serve the Dark Lord. Look, Cissy, do you really think—"

Her voice trailed off.

"Where's the girl's body?" she said harshly. "Narcissa, I know you like your house to be clean, but the Dark Lord specifically instructed that the body was not be moved— what have you done with it?"

"I didn't do anything!" Narcissa whimpered. "Maybe… maybe, Dobby thought to do well and moved her corpse?"

Oleandra froze, quiet as a mouse.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Bella screamed. "Summon your House-Elf at once!"

It suddenly occurred to Oleandra that she too possessed a House-Elf— how many times could she have escaped from a sticky situation by calling upon her own House-Elf? Too many to count!

Even Oleandra, who was very open-minded, tended to look down on other magical beings' powers. She wasn't doing it on purpose, or to be mean; it was merely a product of her upbringing as a human in a human-dominated society— a truly sad state of affairs.

"Dobby!" Narcissa called out. "Come out here at once!"

There was a loud pop, and the House-Elf appeared at his mistress's feet.

"Mistress Narcissa called?" said Dobby hesitantly.

"Have you moved the girl's body?" Narcissa said harshly. "Tell me the truth!"

Dobby looked away from his mistress to see where she was pointing— and as he turned his head, his big floppy ears flapping about, his eyes widened in surprise as he met Oleandra's gaze. Oleandra's stomach dropped; she fully expected the House-Elf to point out her hiding place to his mistresses, but to her utter shock, Dobby shook his head.

"Dobby did not move the girl's body," he said truthfully, his bulbous eyes still fixed to Oleandra's form under the table.

"Useless creature!" Narcissa raged. "Begone with you!"

Dobby executed a clumsy bow, before disappearing with a second, 'pop!'

"Bella, should we call for help?" said Narcissa anxiously, the domineering tone she had adopted with Dobby rapidly evaporating. "Will the Mark on your arm still work in your current… state?"

For a few seconds, there was silence— and then Bella answered.

"Check on the younger sister and the mother first," she said. "If they're gone as well, we'll call for help."

Hope surged within Oleandra's breast— Astoria and their mother were not only still alive, but they were also somewhere here!

"I'll just leave you here, then," said Narcissa. "I'll be faster without having to carry you…"

There was a thump— Narcissa had just put something on the table.

"That masked man," Bella growled as Narcissa left the dining room in a hurry. "When I get my hands on him…"

Oleandra was now certain of this Bella's identity— and if she was indeed whom she thought she was, then she didn't pose much of a threat. After waiting a minute for Narcissa to get out of earshot, Oleandra summoned all of her strength and dragged herself from under the table, before unsteadily rising to her feet.

"Hello there," said Oleandra, mustering a weak smile. "Why, if it isn't the human jam."

Apart from her head, which the masked man had spared, Bellatrix's body had been rendered completely boneless— leaving her deflated and unable to move. Oleandra wasn't quite sure how she was even still alive without bones to keep her more delicate organs from collapsing under her own weight, but alive she remained.

"YOU!" screeched Bellatrix Lestrange. "HOW!?"

"I'm just like a cockroach," simply said Oleandra. "Somehow, I just can't seem to die!"

Fairy Magic surged between them, as Oleandra fooled Bellatrix into thinking she was immortal.

After all, twice Voldemort had attempted to have Oleandra killed, and twice she had survived. Furthermore, the second time, Bellatrix had even seen her beating heart removed from her chest. How else could Oleandra's miraculous survival be possible?

Feeling the invisible link tethering them together, Oleandra smiled.

And then, she robbed Bellatrix of all the stamina she possessed, causing her to fall unconscious before she could call for help. Strength flowed through Oleandra, washing over her muscles and feeding her blood-starved body.

It wasn't much, but it would have to do…

She glanced around the room, noticing a corpse next to the fireplace— her father's. Or rather, she thought to herself, it had to belong to the man who had impersonated her father.

"Polyjuice Potion, huh?" Oleandra muttered to herself. "Looks like its effects don't wear off after death…"

She tore her gaze away from the Death Eater's corpse— she didn't know why he was dead, but neither did it matter to her. Astoria and Iris were somewhere here, and she had to find them before the rest of the Death Eaters found her…

…

…

…

"Oleandra, wake up!" came an indistinct voice. "Breakfast's ready! Don't you have another exam today?"

For the second time that day, Oleandra woke up— only this time, she had awakened in the real world. She stared up at the familiar ceiling and felt her bedsheets around her; damp with sweat. She had gone to bed reviewing some Transfiguration notes, but she must have fallen asleep from exhaustion…

"Just a dream," Oleandra muttered to herself, before rising from bed.