May 12, 1982: Halos
The Owl had been the normal sort he’d always received. It barked instructions and gave minimal details. Arnold decided to leave his cloak behind and tugged at the bottom of his jacket before he exited the Ministry via the Floo and then Apparated near the location of the latest breach in Muggle-magical separation.
He entered the building, surprised to see that it was not a row of flats but a warehouse instead. After he entered, he gazed around the ground floor. It was not only empty from all sounds and appearances, it also seemed heavily disused. His brow furrowed, but he withdrew his wand and whispered, “Lumos.” The light flooded the immediate area. Something flew over his head, and he dropped quickly, twisting his body so that he might see whatever had rushed above his head.
But he could see nothing.
He straightened and dusted off his knees and went deeper into the building. Whatever had happened here, had happened very long ago. Perhaps there was a mistake of address. Or perhaps this was someone’s idea of a practical joke. A rather unfunny one at that.
Isabel, beneath her Invisibility Cloak, saw him coming towards her, watched him, then when he was very near, she whispered.
“Arnold.”
Arnold’s legs locked at once, and he held his wand out as he circled a square foot of concrete. “Who’s there? What is this?”
“There’s no need to use your wand as a weapon,” Isabel said, swirling the cloak off of her. “It’s me.”
Arnold stood still, holding his wand steady. “What is this? What do you want, Isabel?”
“I only wanted to see you. Safe. Alive,” she said. “I needed only that.”
Arnold’s eyes narrowed. “What are you on about?”
“This,” she said, looking around her. “All of this-the Owl; this place. It was to be your death.”
Arnold’s arm dropped an inch. The light sank towards the floor. “Death? My death?”
“Yes. I know,” she said, moving closer to him. “But you’re safe now.
“It was Barty,” she explained. “When you refused his challenge, he felt it was the only way to restore his honor. So he made an agreement with the Soviets to hand Dolohov over to them. I imagine the man was to make an escape during the event, use a Portkey that would take him here. The Owl would have ensured you’d be here as well.
“Oh, Arnold-” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “-Dolohov would have ambushed you. Murdered you.”
Arnold began to rub his cheek with his free hand. After several seconds, he lowered it and asked, “So now you feel that perhaps telling Barty about us-about our child-was not your wisest decision?”
She stared at him for a moment, a look of pain in her eyes. Then she glanced down and, still in a whisper, said, “I stopped him, Arnold. I made him swear he would never harm you. You’ll be safe from now on. I promise.”
“And he nearly killed me because of you. Because of what you told him,” Arnold replied. “He’s mad. You’re both mad.”
She looked up at him. “How many times must I tell you I never meant for that to happen?” she said, her voice quivering slightly. “I was ill. And weak. I lost myself in emotion for a moment and said things I should never have said. I did not want to endanger you.”
“But you did, Isabel,” he spat. “You did. And I’ve suffered through threats and bullying inquiries-audits that were completely unnecessary-because of you. And now he’s actually plotted to murder me.” His lips twisted. “And I suppose you want me to thank you.”
She turned her face away. “If you ever loved me as you claimed you did, how can you be so cruel to me now?” she asked. “How can you find such hatred within you to hurt me so very much?”
“To hurt you?” Arnold shook his head. “In what world do you bloody Crouches live? My life has been hell for the past few months. And I’ve been cruel to you because you told your husband things you never should have and almost cost me my job, my life?”
“But that’s all changed now,” she said. “It’s over. I’ve stopped him. You’ll be safe.”
She took a breath. “You came so very close to dying today, Arnold, it made me-” She paused. “I just needed to see you. Reassure myself that you are secure. I have now. I’ll not keep you any longer. It’s clear you can’t bear to be near me.”
He shook his head again; a slight smiled formed. “You’d never understand, Isabel.”
“Perhaps not,” she said. “We are so different, you and I. So very different. Yet, somehow, we found each other. And we were happy for a time.” She paused. “You were happy, weren’t you, Arnold? I did make you happy then. Will you give me that much?”
“I gave you everything, Isabel. Everything. Too much,” he replied. “But, all right, I’ll give you that. I thought myself happy for a time, yes.”
“‘Thought’? Only ‘thought.’” She smiled; it was a sad smile. “Yes. Well then. I’ll ask no more from you.”
He laughed at this and then turned. “Goodbye, Isabel.” He began to stride towards the doorway.
“Wait,” she called. “There is one thing. One final thing. Please.”
His smile remained frozen in place as he came to a stop. “And what would that be?”
He still faced towards the door, but she approached him, stood behind him.
“You may have only thought yourself happy. But I was, Arnold. I was truly happy.” She slipped her arms around him, her hands on his chest, her cheek against his back. “So I thank you. Because those memories-of our times together, the promise of our future, of Emily-will provide me with warmth; comfort. And I shall be needing that. Very soon.” She released him and stepped away.
“Goodbye, Arnold.”
“You believe you know the right words to say, don’t you? You believe they’ll attain a desired impact.” He turned towards her one last time. “I don’t wish you ill, Isabel. I can’t say that I ever have. I simply see what I could not before, and for that, I am grateful. I can love someone now and be happy doing so. Truly happy. No demands, no manipulations. No expectations or false promises. I am grateful. Good day.” He gave her a nod and then pivoted towards the exit once more; he strode until he reached the sunlight’s edge and ended the spell, tucking away his wand before Disapparating.
She walked to where he had disappeared, standing where he had stood only moments before. She leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes.
After several moments, she opened them and gazed out from the darkness.
“No,” she whispered. “If I had wanted impact, I need only have spoken the truth-that I’ve been told there is no hope left for me. I’ve no chance against this illness. That I am dying.” She took a deep breath. “Once more, goodbye, my Arnold.”
And with the Invisibility Cloak over her arm, she, too, Disapparated.
By honorstudentmum and obliviator