Ivy hadn't spoken to her sister in nearly two years. Addictions and pride tore apart the very fabric of a shattered family, pulled its stitching to illuminate a messy group of broken people. There was no fixing it and when Lily Evans died, there was...
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IVY EVANS DIDN'T concern herself much with the repercussions of her magic. Her magical actions led to her expulsion from Hogwarts and strained her relationships with her parents, creating a divide between her and her sisters. Although, Petunia at least had more reason than magic to despise her. Nevertheless, Ivy was instantly entranced by magic's power when she first encountered it. The intricate patterns of spells and symbols left in the air mesmerized her and without hesitation, she devoted herself to its study. To her, magic was amoral and its character depended solely on the intent behind its use.
She always saw it as a chaotic neutral, and she didn't consider anything about it evil or bad. Ivy considered herself a neutral witch. She found the idea of using her knowledge to bring the dead back to life fascinating, not macabre. To Ivy, magic was a source of power and potential, so it was no more "dark" than any other form of energy. But even Professor McGonagall, whom she respected most, referred to her as "the dark witch".
Ivy would laugh at the thought. She hated that the only one who ever agreed with her on all these points was Albus Dumbledore, and that even worse, he didn't agree in the end.
Ivy stepped closer to the small round house, taking in the intricate details of its weathered wood surface. From the age-worn crevices to the patchwork of lichen and moss, it was as if each crack told a story. She could almost feel Bacia's reassuring hand on her back, like a reminder of their earlier conversation. The fragrant breeze tickled her nose with floral notes of lavender and rosemary, the sharp zest of oregano and basil. She could smell the aroma of damp soil mingled with the sweet scent of herbs and flowers, telling tales of their magical properties.
"I don't agree with what you're doing, but there is no way I'll let you do it alone," Bacia had said, and Ivy felt a wave of relief wash over her despite her inner protestations to do this alone. Logically, she knew that this was best—she wasn't familiar with Zimbabwe nor did she have as many resources and contacts.
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