“Nastasia…?” James exhaled, a smile of astonishment dawning on his face. “She killed Judith?”
“Not precisely,” Merlin shrugged, as if admitting a mere technicality. “Firstly, Judith was not killed, at least not in the human sense. She was banished forever back into the dark netherworld from which she came. And secondly, it was only the Ashya part of Miss Hendricks that attacked and unmade her. The other half refused to betray her erstwhile comrade. But unlike in the destiny that you knew, in this world, the Ashya half survived. She rejoined her twin self, Nasti.
And while one would be hesitant to say that Nastasia Hendricks lives happily ever after, she does, at the very least, carry on as a rather troublesome and complicated student of Alma Aleron. You and she have become well acquainted, in fact. I believe the currently popular term for a relationship like yours is ‘frenemies’.”
James blew out a bemused, relieved sigh. “That sounds about right.” He sobered again. “But… if Petra never made it to Alma Aleron, that means the Archive was never broken into. So the Night of the Unveiling never happened?”
Merlin nodded and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “With Petra Morganstern deceased, her thread was no longer a part of the Loom’s weaving. Thus, Judith had no option for switching the Looms and stealing the crimson thread of Petra’s unfortunate doppelganger, Morgan. That story never occurred in this history, and quite thankfully so.
“Instead, on the occasion you know as the Night of the Unveiling, I battled Judith personally, having tracked her after her escape from the murder scene of Senator Filmore. She had fled once again into the nearby ocean waters, where her strength was greatest. I foolishly pursued her, battling her in force. When she threatened to reveal her water-gorgon form to the coast of the city, and to attack it in fury, I summoned what power I had left and obliterated her, undoing myself at the same time.
“Alas, while it took me one full year to return from the realm of the dead, it took her mere weeks to reassemble. She was not yet weakened enough by the death of her host. This was my error. But thankfully, her destruction was yet only a matter of time.”
“So you went missing during my fourth year, just like in the alternate timeline,” James said, amazed. The headmaster was right.
Fewer things had changed than he could have expected. History had indeed found a way to keep happening. And yet the outcome was magnificently different nonetheless. He looked at Merlin and prodded again, “What else?”
Merlin shrugged. “The Vow of Secrecy still erodes slightly, gradually each year. But this is only the result of plain entropy and time, not any devastating revelations.” He bobbed his head, raising his eyes in thought. “You and your friends did manage to unleash a dragon into Muggle London, your mission complicated by a particularly disgruntled house elf whose service had been recently supplanted by humans, albeit of the magical variety. The Elven uprising is a nasty business, spurred on by inevitable changes in culture as time marches on. But it is no global revolution, as it was in your alternate history.
“Reaching farther back, you and your Alma Aleron friends in Bigfoot house still won the Clutchcudgel tournament during your third, inspiring year. You, along with Misters Walker and Deedle, still travelled back into nineteenth century Philadelphia and observed the death of the villain, Ignatius Magnussen. You collected the relic unicorn’s horseshoe, just as you remember, and used it to tread the World Between the Worlds. The single difference is that you accomplished these tasks only to prove and locate the hiding place of the rogue Lady, who had indeed escaped into that mysterious realm to regain her strength after our battle, with her human host always in tow.”
James asked, “And it was Izzy alone that accompanied us into the World Between the Worlds?”
Merlin nodded meaningfully. “Your father, as you are likely now remembering, took Petra’s final request very seriously. He took Izzy into your home, considered her as a daughter, sister to you and Albus and Lily. There, she matured swiftly. Tragedy always has that affect upon those who survive. But Izzy’s growth was quite clearly augmented by her time with her stepsister Petra. Almost from the start, she showed razor-sharp insights bordering on the precognitive. She practiced strange, burgeoning powers. And she devoured books. Every book she could get her small hands on, reading, and absorbing, and memorizing, always adding to her powers with knowledge and wisdom.
And yet, unlike her sorceress sister, Izzy’s peculiar magic was somehow purified by her Muggle heritage. The mind that her hateful mother had called simple was, in fact, the mind perfectly suited to harbor and subordinate some of the most eerie powers imaginable. Evil will never have the slightest foothold in her. Nor vengeance. Nor selfish ambition.
“And she no longer lives with my family,” James said, as his memories slowly returned.
“She does, sometimes,” Merlin admitted. “Your family will always be her home. But she has other places. She is a young lady of many secrets. But unlike virtually every other person on the planet, one can be certain that Izzy’s secrets are kept not for her own questionable motives, but for the benevolent security of the world that she inhabits.”
“She and her dolls,” James remembered, his eyes widening slightly. “Beatrice. And Mr. Bobkins. And all the others. She takes them with her most of the time. Only, sometimes when she doesn’t, you get the strongest feeling that she left them behind on purpose, and they’re not just dolls. They aren’t scary, exactly. They’re even a little comforting to have around, because they’re hers, and they reflect her.
But they do seem to be thinking things. Watching the world for her, maybe.”
Merlin sat forward in his chair again, as if recognizing that the meeting was nearly concluded. There were classes to get to, James suddenly remembered. N.E.W.T. examinations were underway. He himself had several more to attend to.
The headmaster moved a few parchments on his desk. “I expect that as time passes, the history you once knew will again be supplanted by the history you now occupy. While most things remain in near perfect continuity, you will find a few unexpected details here and there.
Your Aunt Hermione, for example, is the Minister of Magic.”
James had been getting to his feet, but he dropped back again with those words, his eyes bulging so wide that they blurred slightly.
“You’re joking!”