When the duel broke out, Ariana knew she had to flee. She had seen this look in Albus’ eyes before, this utter lack of concern for anything but victory. She would be of no use in this situation. Aberforth would be distracted by her, while the other two would be unimpeded. She couldn’t put her brother at risk like that. As spellfire illuminated the room, she slipped out through the backdoor and started to run. The cold morning air felt like glass shards in her lungs as she hurried through the garden into the forest. She had never been much of an athlete, and her bad form was coming back to haunt her now as she was hindered by the wind, which kept changing directions. Coughing, she forced herself to keep moving. If she was lucky, Aberforth would survive and Albus would leave with his boyfriend. If she wasn’t, they might come after her.
Albus was likely to insist that he had a duty of care over her, and she was not at all interested in the future he imagined for her, for all of them. And so, Ariana ran. Only when she noticed spots dancing in front of her eyes did she allow herself to stop. She felt her legs go wobbly and dizziness rising. Just in time, she managed to grab hold of a tree to stabilise her. Ariana threw her arms around the tree and leaned on it, breathing into the bark. Her breath came out in quick, shallow bursts and she felt the beating of her heart into her fingertips, hot and pulsing.
After what felt like hours, Ariana finally dared to let go of the tree and look around her. Immediately, she realised with a lurch of fear that she had no idea where she was. She had never seen the small river before her and the hard, rocky ground had prevented any footprints from forming. She let out a shaky breath and started sobbing. She had no wand, no way home, and no idea what to do. Just as the fear began turning into panic, she looked down and saw the dry leaves at her feet smouldering. With a yelp, she jumped to the side as flames started to build, eating away at her shoes.
“Focus, Ariana”, she told herself. She started running her fingers over a tree next to her, trying to notice nothing beside the sensation under her fingertips. Slowly, she felt control come back to her, and saw the fire shrink away until only ashes remained. Needing to wash her hands, she walked towards the small river. She was shocked at the dishevelled appearance mirrored in the water. She had lost her hat; her hair had come loose and was full of dry leaves. Looking down on herself, she saw tears all over her dress. That was almost enough to make her cry again. The dress had belonged to her mother, she couldn’t bear it becoming destroyed.
With shaking fingers, she grabbed the little pouch on her hip and took out the little sewing kit that had been her mother’s last gift to her, and which she always carried with her. Her mother had noticed that sewing was one of the few things that reliably helped Ariana when she was agitated. Ariana sat down on a large rock and began mending the dress, banishing all thoughts outside of the next stitch from her brain. She started with the largest tear and didn’t stop until she was satisfied that there was no harm left visible. She was about to continue on a second tear when she heard someone clearing their throat.
Startled, she jumped up, ready to run. To her relief, instead of Albus or Gellert, before her stood a brunette girl who seemed to be about Ariana’s age. She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat adorned with feathers, a woollen skirt, and a linen shirt. She carried a basket full of mushrooms and seemed to do her best to appear nonthreatening. “Are you alright?”, the girl asked in a curious tone.
Ariana nearly broke out laughing at that. “I don’t know”.
“Did something happen to you?”. The girl’s eyes roamed over the tears in Ariana’s dress and her disordered appearance.
Ariana pressed her lips together, wondering what she could tell the girl. “I can’t go back home”, she finally said.
“Muggleborn?”, the girl guessed.
Ariana’s head snapped up in shock “What did you say?”.
The girl raised her eyebrows “I saw you nearly start a forest fire. Mother is a squib; you don’t need to play dumb with me”.
Deciding this was as good of an excuse as any other, Ariana nodded. “Yes, I’m Muggleborn”.
“And do you have a name?”.
“Elizabeth”, her mother’s name, came out before she could think anything other than I can’t let Albus find me. From the girl’s expression, she didn’t believe her at all.
“Nice to meet you ..Elizabeth. I’m Hannah”.
Ariana no Elizabeth, think of yourself as Elizabeth smiled. “Hello, Hannah”.
“Mother sent me out to get mushrooms for luncheon. Come join us, she will know what to do”, Hannah suggested.
Elizabeth nodded thankfully. “Thank you, that is very kind”.
Hannah clearly knew the forest well, walking at a quick pace and with no sign of insecurity on where she was going. She was proven right a short while later when the two ended up on a well-trodden path. They were walking in silence until “You seem to do well with needlework Elizabeth”.
“I like sewing a lot. My mother taught me”. Ariana still choked up when thinking about her mother. Elizabeth would have to learn to suppress that urge.
Hannah hummed noncommittally. She began talking excitedly about an upcoming town fair, saving Elizabeth from having to say anything. When they arrived at Hannah’s home, Elizabeth was impressed by how nice it was. Albus always spoke of how inferior muggles were, but this house felt cosy in a way theirs never had.
Elizabeth stood back as Hannah spoke in hushed whispers to her mother, a thin woman with a serious expression. The latter seemed to go through a series of emotions before her face settled on determination.
“Hello, Elizabeth”, she said. “I am Mrs. Crocombe. Hannah told me about your situation. You will eat with us and then I will see if you are as good of a seamstress as my daughter says. If you are, I can take you on as a worker. I just lost a girl to London and clothes don’t make themselves”.
Elizabeth was feeling quite overwhelmed and only managed to nod weakly.
“Good. I will prepare the soup and Hannah can show you the machines in the meantime”. Mrs. Crocombe took the basket of mushrooms and left for the kitchen, leaving no room for argument. Elizabeth was looking after her when she felt Hannah tug at her sleeve.
“Come on. Mother is kind, but she expects skill from her workers. You must impress her”. Elizabeth followed Hannah into a room filled to the brim with equipment. A dozen sewing machines placed on sturdy tables, two large cutting tables, and rolls of fabric, stashed orderly at the wall. Hannah grabbed a box with small pieces of fabric and set it down next to one of the sewing machines.
“We’ll use cabbage for now. I’ll show you how the machine works and then you just repeat after me”. What followed was a highspeed demonstration of skill that left Elizabeth feeling slightly dizzy. Her attempts to recreate what Hannah had made failed miserably, to the point that the needle actually broke.
“Oh no!”, Hannah exclaimed. “I don’t think we have any replacements right now; Mother will be so upset”. Elizabeth, terrified of angering the stern woman, fished out her sewing kit and showed one of the needles to Hannah.
“Would that work?”, she asked.
“I don’t know, let’s see if it fits”. Hannah worked the needle inside the machine with a bit of fiddling and motioned for Elizabeth to try again. The girl sat down, already expecting another disaster, but found the machine had lost its intimidating aura. Instead, she felt as though she was back home, sewing with her mother, and the needle moved smoothly through the fabric.
Hannah was almost excited as her: “Finally! I knew you could do it”.
She demonstrated a few other stitches and tricks before proclaiming Elizabeth Good Enough to be accepted by her mother, and not a moment too soon. Just then, Mrs. Crocombe called them to lunch. Elizabeth was relieved to find Mrs. Crocombe had mercy on her and didn’t ask too many questions during the meal.
Afterwards, the went back to the sewing room, and Elizabeth was buzzing with nerves. After a demonstration of some basic stitches, per hand and machine, she was told to first cut and then mend a small cloth. When she was done, she looked up at Mrs. Crocombe, hands sweaty. The woman had a slight smile on her face. “Your work is decent. If you are honest with me and tell me what happened, you can start tomorrow alongside my other girls.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, but eventually told the woman everything – starting with the muggles attacking her. Mrs. Crocombe listened silently throughout. She frowned when Elizabeth spoke of suppressing her magic, and that frown grew deeper when she mentioned the accident that killed her mother. When Elizabeth was done, she remained silent for a long while. Finally, she spoke.
“Here is what we will do: You will learn to get over your problem with magic and work with runes and rituals. That way, you can get the magic out of your system and be stable. Until you managed that, you will stay out of sight and sew in the old servant’s room. We’ll say that you are sick and aren’t supposed to work outside of the bed. When you have learned to control your magic, you can join the others. You will earn six shillings per week and eat with us. Is that acceptable?”. Mrs. Crocombe looked at her expectantly.
“Yes, Mrs. Crocombe”, Elizabeth said, relieved. It was about the best thing she could expect.
“Good. Hannah will show you to your room. Welcome to the trade, Ms. Smith”. With that, Mrs. Crocombe left the two girls alone in the sewing room.
Elizabeth Smith would become an accomplished seamstress and an adoptive daughter to Mrs. Jane Crocombe. The Dumbledore brothers would never know what happened to their sister, both thinking they might have killed her.