❝ Was all the hardship there to demonstrate how unlucky I was, or was I actually a very lucky person, given that I'd survived so much? ❞ — Porochista Khakpour, Sick: A Memoir

Matt and I ate the roasted goose for lunch and dinner and left the fish to Theo, who devoured it with the hunger of someone who hadn't eaten in weeks. All he'd lived off of the past two weeks were berries and the bread loaf the mysterious girl dropped off, so I felt guilty for not trying harder to convince him to have meat. But with his fluctuating moods, that didn't seem like the smartest idea.

Since that day she dropped off the basket, the girl hadn't come back. Matt had seen her hunting with another guy that morning, but it didn't seem like the goose they shot was meant for us.

"If you saw them hunting," I started telling Matt as we ate the last remaining goose chops by the fire. "It means they must be staying here somewhere. All this time, we thought our anonymous helper just Disapparated off the island, but what if she and the boy are staying here and just don't want to give their location away?"

Matt swallowed his slice of meat loudly, then burped before answering. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. He shot an innocent, apologetic smile.

"I think the best idea now is to stay in the shed," he said. "At all times. Something tells me they cast a spell over it before we got here to protect us."

"Protect us?"

"Yeah. I mean, you haven't heard Willard's voice in here, have you?"

I hadn't considered that thought before. But Matt was right. The only times I heard the whispers were out in the woods or at the beach.

"I guess I haven't."

"You shouldn't have gone off to look," said Theo from the stone bed he was sprawled on, eyes half-closed, fingers tugging at the Crucifix around his neck. "Told you this mornin' not to check it out. You coulda put us in real danger."

"Theo," Matt shot him a look. "Don't start."

Theo sat up and turned to him. "And you scared off the teens. If they're stayin' someplace safe, we coulda got there by now. Now you gave 'em the impression someone's after 'em."

"Hey, for the record, I got us food. When it's safe to go out again, we will. Now chill out."

Theo released a dissatisfactory grumble and muttered something under his breath. Matt gave me a look that said 'here we go again.' As much as I hated to see it, it was about time the Healing Potion wore off. Theo had been fighting off the virus with the stoicism of a bull since we'd come here, but it was apparent his body was nearing its breaking point.

"We're not standing guard tonight," said Matt. "We could pull an all-nighter in here, if you don't feel safe, but we're not stepping outside. None of us."

I didn't like the idea of hiding from danger. Not that I was too thrilled about tossing myself to the heart of it, but what I hated more than anything was the feeling of not knowing. Not knowing how great a threat loomed over our heads—how far away or close by it was. Not knowing how or why I could hear Willard's voice in my head. Not knowing who the teenagers were or where they'd come from, but most importantly, what this island was. What lay on the other side that something had always, in one way or another, prevented us from exploring it?

I snapped out of my daze to find Theo glaring at me.

"What?" I asked.

But I didn't have to. I knew he had followed my line of thought and caught my disapproval at Matt's request. Great. I emptied my mind and slid my thoughts beneath the mental trapdoor, but the damage was done.

"I'll go wash the dishes," I said.

Just as I leapt to my feet, Theo was beside me, grabbing me by the arm and forcing me backing down on my seat. "I got it."

But the warning in the pointed look he shot me before picking up the stack of dirty plates indicated he wasn't offering it out of consideration. I forced myself to bite back the argument that rose to the tip of my tongue. Our silent exchange didn't escape Matt.

"What's up?" he asked when Theo left.

I let out a sigh. "He thought I'd use it as an opportunity to go looking for the teens or track down Willard."

But I knew there was more to it than that. Just like Theo had told me that day at the cliff. The more time he spent doing nothing, the more agitated he grew. Keeping himself occupied was his only way of resisting the pull of the dark energy that fed off him.

"You know what he was telling me last night?" Matt said. I leaned in to listen. "You were standing guard during the first shift, and he couldn't sleep so we got to talking for a bit. He was telling me all these nonsensical, weird things about the Devil and how he doesn't think Zoë is really dead. He even asked me a bunch of times, 'Are you sure they killed her, Matt?' and I was trying to tell him that, you know, it's common to see the dead's faces when you're grieving, but he wouldn't budge. It was a lot. He went like, 'Believe me, Matt. It's not like that. I see her not the way I remember her. Believe me.' " Matt shuddered. "I'm starting to get scared, Polly. I think he might really be losing it."

"He told me about that."

"And you believe him? About this whole Devil thing?"

"I don't believe in the Devil any more than I believe in God. But I do think that whatever he's going through, it's beyond his control. And I get what he means about Zoë."

In your mind, will I ever die? Will Stella?

I closed my eyes as Stella's muffled pleas for help started to resurface. Even if I'd been the one at the bottom of the ocean, nothing would've changed. What I promised Christine was that I'd protect her sister. My death would change nothing other than make it impossible to seek justice for hers. I recalled a different version of Stella—this time, on purpose; this time, the Stella with a warrior's smile that had saved us from the fall from Azkaban, not the helpless drowning girl screaming for help.

I need you to stay alive and keep fighting. No matter how hard things get, and they will get hard and you'll want to give up, keep fighting. Okay? Will you do that? Will you hold on?

It was a promise I didn't make Zoë, because I had failed the one I did. I gave her my word that I'd convince the Minister to postpone her Execution Date, but I wasn't able to do that. Peterson was too heavy under Willard's Imperius Charm to even hear me. But he showed a sliver or consciousness for the briefest moment before Willard interfered. I could continue beating myself up about that failed vow, but my hatred for Willard overrode the one I had for myself. He still had to pay, I'd told myself when I came up with the escape plan.

This was the promise Zoë expected from me. That I would hold on and keep fighting. I'd avenge her and Stella's deaths, make that bastard pay. Being dead would only make it impossible for me to do what I had to. I needed to stay alive.

Matt snapped me back to reality. "I think—"

But he didn't have time to finish the thought because the door flew open with a ferocity that made us both jump.

"I'm not losing it, Matthias," Theo hissed.

His jaw was tight and his eyes sparkled insidiously. The plates he was holding dripped water into the sleeves of his shirt.

"Hey, dude—" Matt started.

"No. You're not listenin' to me. Dude." Theo slammed the plates on the table—a bit harder and they would've cracked. "Zoë ain't dead. I'm not losin' it."

"I say that in a well-meaning way, Theo. What you're going through really worries me."

"Then maybe don't talk 'bout me behind my back like I ain't right in the head. By the way, I know what you're thinkin' all the time. I ain't dumb either."

"I didn't say that."

"You're not listenin' to me," Theo repeated, his tone louder and angrier. "She tells me that . . . she's told me that so many times. She visits me every night. It ain't her, but it is."

Matt rose to his feet and reached out to grab Theo gently by the arm, but he whacked his hand away. I had no intentions of getting in another argument with Theo after how the last one went down, so I picked up the wet dishes and cautiously made me way to the trapdoor in the stone bed to put them there.

"I ain't going mad," Theo insisted.

"It's okay, pal, just sit down for a min—"

"You're not listenin' to me!" he hollered. His voice had a hint of desperation to it.

I decided to benefit from the moment and slip out. But I hadn't even made it to the door, when Theo whirled around, his eyes vicious.

"We said we're gonna stay inside."

"I just need to use the restroom," I said.

He strode toward me and bolted the door, then pressed a fist against it to block my path. The Crucifix around his neck reflected the red glow of the flames in the fireplace. His jaw clenched, his chest heaving up and down with each deep breath he drew in through the nostrils.

"Are you always this reckless?"

I bit back before I could help it, "Are you always this cowardly?"

He lifted his fist from the door and in an absurd, horrifying moment, I flinched, thinking he was about to strike. His eyes widened. For a fleeting second, there was a spark of the normal Theo in them, but the moment was gone as fast as it appeared. His face hardened again, eyebrows knitting together. He undid the bolt with a swift movement and opened the door, letting a gust of cold air in.

"Just go."

I slipped out without a second glance at him. The door slammed shut behind me and the sound of arguing picked up again. Obviously I didn't need to use the restroom, so I rushed to the storage closet, grabbed a dagger and hooked it in the waistband of my pants.

The night was still, the air dry but mild, the black canvas of the sky flecked with stars. I walked into those enchanted woods I'd stared at every night and felt a thrill travel up my spine. It was beautiful. It was dangerous. The chirping of crickets followed me with every step, twigs crunching under my shoes as I walked through the grass illuminated by the fluorescent flowers.

Any minute now, I was expecting to hear the whisper again—closer, more eerie in the dead of the night. Maybe out loud, instead of inside my head. This time, I would respond. I wouldn't let Willard intimidate me into hiding. But I didn't hear him. Not inside my head, not out loud.

I drew the dagger as I approached the aspen tree with the sparkling trunk I'd seen so many times. The chirping of crickets grew louder. From the distance, the light had seemed fainter, like one of those boulevard trees during holiday season in California that were decorated with Christmas lights. Up close, I could see that it was the insects stuck to its trunk, like bees to a honeycomb, that gave the tree its vibrant glow. It was the same insects I'd assumed as crickets, except they looked more like a hybrid of moths and fireflies. I reached out to touch one, when a sound of footsteps behind me made me freeze in place.

I spun, dagger in hand. A girl stood unmoving a couple of feet away. Under the starlight and amid the glow of the purple fluorescent flowers around her, she looked ethereal, like a nymph straight out of a mythology book. She had sharp eyes and golden skin. Two black braids cascaded down her shoulders and reached her waist, white flowers stuck in them. Boots lined with fur covered her feet, a thick coat draped around her shoulders and slender arms poked out from its wide sleeves, a fox tucked protectively between them.

"You . . ." I breathed, recognition kicking in. "I know you. You were at my trial."

I remembered her at the courtroom, sitting on the front row dressed in black robes decorated with Japanese letters, her eyes curiously trained on me the entire hearing. She was one of the only three people that voted in favor of clearing me of all charges. I tried to recall her name, but it had been too long ago.

The girl gave me an intense look, but said nothing. She lowered the fox gently to the ground and turned around. Panic started to seep into me at the thought of her leaving, but then she kneeled and started picking up kindling. The fox followed her every movement like a loyal dog, but its fiery eyes kept darting back at me.

"You're the one that's been helping us," I said. "Why haven't you shown yourself sooner?"

Again she said nothing, only continued collecting kindling, as if she hadn't even heard me. Matt's words came back to me. When he saw her and the boy earlier that day, they were talking in sign language.

I approached her, cautious like I was making my way towards a hare and didn't want it to flee. The fox drew closer to the girl, its tail wagging. I kneeled by her side and helped her pick up more branches. Finally, she noticed my presence and turned her head.

I thought about how some things look better from a distance, but the moment you scrutinize them up close, you start to detect their flaws one by one. Her face wasn't like that. Even from this proximity, her skin looked flawless, almost like she didn't even have pores, and her nose was straight as a candle. I noticed she had two beauty spots: one on her left cheek, the other right below her right eye.

"Help me," I whispered.

She rose gracefully to her feet and glanced at the fox, nodding once, as if to signal something. The animal started changing shape as a swirl of blue light circled its body, rising in whirls to a height of about six feet. The silhouette of a man began to form, and as the light faded out, I realized it wasn't a man at all, but a boy not older than me and her.

It took me a minute to realize this was the 'sexy biker guy' Matt had described. Not that he wasn't attractive—with his solid build, chiseled jawline and chin-length hair that framed his face like a dark curtain—but there was no edge to his eyes, nothing brooding or arrogant about the way he held himself. He had the type of face you'd associate with a scholar, not someone who drove motorcycles and went around smoking six cigarettes a day. But there was something else—I'd seen him before too.

The boy and the girl started talking in sign language and I tried, uselessly, to decipher something from their gestures and facial expressions. Finally, the boy turned to me and took out his wand. I held my dagger higher in instinctual defense, then realized he was forming letters in the air. Writing.

'How many people are you?'

"Three," I said, staring awestruck at the glowing red letters that hovered in the air. "Me and two other guys."

The boy exchanged a look with the girl I couldn't read. He lifted his wand arm again. The letters disappeared as if an invisible hand wiped them off and he started writing something else.

'And the others?'

Others. He knew about Joseph, Zoë and Stella. I swallowed and looked down.

"Long story." But then something dawned on me. "Wait . . . you can hear me? Or are you only lip-reading?"

He wiped the sentence again, wrote another.

'I'm mute. My hearing works perfectly fine. Hatsue is the deaf one.'

He gestured with his head at the girl. Hatsue. Now I remembered . . . Hatsue Yamatoya, the British Youth Representative. Her lips quirked up just barely. I turned to the boy again.

"Do you go to Hogwarts? I swear I've seen you before."

He smiled. It was gentle and benign, without a trace of smugness to it.

'You have. I've even taken house points off when I caught you out past curfew once, but I doubt you remember that.' He allowed me a moment to take in the words, then before I could respond, flicked his wrist. The letters rearranged themselves, some of them vanishing, others appearing to form another sentence. 'I'm the Ravenclaw Prefect. Wally Royce. Friend of Sibi's.'

My stomach dropped. "You know Sibi? Oh my god, how is she? Is she okay? What about Mike? Are—"

Wally Royce held up a hand to silence me and wrote another sentence.

'Everyone's fine. But we can discuss more later. We can't stay out here for too long. Go get your friends and we'll go.'

I didn't wait another second. I nodded at Wally and Hatsue, then dashed toward the shed, afraid they might run off again if I took too long to return. When I reached the door, the arguing had stopped, thank goodness, but the door was still locked. I banged on it with my fists.

Matt opened it in an instant, holding a dagger on the other hand as if ready to attack. His eyes widened when he saw the urgency on my face.

"You okay? What did you see?"

"I'm fine," I panted. "I found the teens . . . We need to go. Now."

He stiffened, but it didn't take long for the words to register. He sprinted inside and stormed into Theo's room.

"What?" came Theo's annoyed voice from the bed.

"We gotta go. Help is here and they're not waiting."

Theo looked confused, if not irritated, but he got to his feet and followed Matt out. When his eyes met mine, he pursed his lips and shook his head like a disappointed mother but—fortunately for me—said nothing. Matt threw the large dusty coat around his shoulders and shut the door. I threw a final look at the shed, this minuscule space that had sheltered us for two weeks, then made my way into the woods with Theo and Matt on both sides.

"So you saw the biker guy?" Matt said, excited. "What's his name?"

"Wally Royce. And he does not look like a biker guy."

"Um, sorry, I was exaggerating for dramatic effect. That's just gay culture."

I didn't hold back a chuckle. Hearing the sound of my own laughter after so long felt so strange, so unreal, it was hard to believe it even belonged to me anymore. I realized this was the closest to hope I'd felt in a while. As we reached the spot I'd met Hatsue and Wally, my heart almost leapt from my chest when I saw they were still there. Matt inhaled sharply beside me.

"Holy shit, he said telepathically. "He's even finer up close."

I elbowed him. "Be quiet." Hatsue flashed me a smile and glanced at Matt and Theo. "Guys, meet Hatsue Yamatoya and Wally Royce. She was at my trial. He goes to Hogwarts. These are Matthias Finley and Theodore Ransom, from Ilvermorny."

Hatsue gave them each a simple nod of acknowledgment, whereas Wally smiled and went to shake their hands. Theo said nothing, his face passive, distrustful even, but Matt was grinning from ear to ear. He shook Wally's hand enthusiastically, flashing him a flirtatious smile.

"Very nice to meet you, handsome," he said.

Wally's cheeks turned scarlet and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"So," I spoke up, turning to Wally. "Where are you guys staying?"

He lifted his arm to write in the air. Matt let out a gasp and whispered, "Brilliant."

'Follow us. It's not very far.'

Theo still looked skeptical, but he didn't say anything. Matt, on the other hand, seemed more excited than I'd ever seen him. As for me, I could hardly wait to reach the place so I could ask Wally more about Sibi, Hogwarts and everything that had happened in the world outside of Azkaban the past three months.

The further into the woods we walked, the scarcer the trees got, until I could see the roof of a house from the distance. It was weird to think how many times we'd gotten close to the other end of the island without even knowing it. I'd always had the impression the forest was larger than it ended up being. When we reached an area of open land and the shoreline of the sea came in sight, I almost gasped and said, "That's it?"

The house was huge, less of a house and more like a medieval mansion. It was protected by a tall wooden fence and made entirely of brick, save for the triangular roof. Smoke rose from the chimney and from a large cauldron brewing some mysterious blue liquid over a bonfire in the garden. The path leading up to the house was made of cobblestone that lit up when we stepped on them; it reminded me of those arcade games I played when I was younger, where I had to repeat the same dance movements that showed up on the screen by stepping on the correct pressure-sensitive mat.

We reached the gate, which had an elegant and intricate design you typically saw in iron gates, even though—just like the fence—it was made of wood. A Talking Patronus in the shape of a gazelle stood in front of it.

"You're here," it said in a woman's voice.

The gazelle ran through the gate and disappeared into the house. I looked at the triangular roof that gleamed under the moonlight, the rectangular windows scattered along the walls, of which only three were lit. From its irregular shape, it was difficult to distinguish how many floors the manor had. If it weren't for the light in the windows or smoke coming from the chimney, I would've mistaken it for a haunted house.

"How many people are you guys?" Matt asked.

But before Wally could answer, the gate began to open with a creak. We walked in, the path leading up to the entrance—also cobbled—lighting up beneath our feet, not stone by stone like the one before it, but all at once, in blinding white light. Was this place real? Or was it just another one of those bizarre, too-good-to-be-true dreams I only had during those lucky peaceful nights?

The door opened and a woman stood there, the gazelle Patronus brushing past her legs as if it were a real animal. She ran toward Hatsue and Wally and threw her arms around them, like she hadn't seen them in years.

"Thank Merlin, oh, thank Merlin!" she cried. She pulled back and looked at them with a motherly smile, cupping Hatsue's cheek and ruffling Wally's hair. "Head inside and start setting the table. Tell Natalia to get the rooms ready."

Wally nodded, threw an arm around Hatsue's shoulders and they both walked in. The woman turned to us. She had to be in her fifties or sixties, but her dark hair didn't have a streak of white to it. Her black robes were long-sleeved and reached the ground, an apron was tied around her protruding belly, and when I looked at her face, I realized it wasn't an unfamiliar one either.

She was the woman who sat where I remembered Dolores Umbridge being in the movies during Harry's Wizengamot trial. The first hand that went up in my defense. The one who winked at me.

"It's so good to finally meet you, Polly Kin," she said. "As a free girl."

I laughed nervously. "As a wanted girl, more like."

I stuck my hand out for her to shake, but she opened her arms and pulled me in a bear hug before I could react. The smell of spices and gravel met my nostrils. I forced a polite smile as she pulled away and leaned back to examine my face.

"You were at my trial, weren't you?" I asked.

Her smile grew, forming dimples on her round cheeks. "Marjorie Bertha Merryweather. Senior Undersecretary. But here, I'm simply Bertha and this is the Merryweather Manor." She looked past me at Theo and Matt. "Aha, the prophecy boy. I've heard all about you, dear."

She walked up to Theo and pulled him in a hug too. His arms hung limply by his sides and his eyes widened, but if she detected the tension or discomfort in his muscles, she didn't show.

"And you must be Celesta Vivenzio's son, correct?" she said, turning to Matt.

"Yeah," he said, then was cut off by another hug.

I sucked in my lips to hold back a laugh.

"We've got much to talk about," Bertha said. She led us inside the house. "But first things first, dinner. While Hatsue and Wally set the table, would you all like some tea? I make great tea!"

◈

END OF PART V