What Amity Tweak Had To Say
A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is later than I intended. Full disclosure, I'm going through some hashing out of the upcoming chapters. I want to publish the best possible chapters, but I also want this story over with. So, be patient, please. And, as always, thank you.
ooo
Calliope and Linus were walking together, braced against the cold, down a small suburban street. Linus was checking the house numbers for Amity's place, and was explaining apologetically to his sister, "So, yes, the wand that Gregorovitch sent over, it chose me. It was very sudden."
"Yes, I believe you."
"I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to apologize for, Linus. I know as well as you do, wands choose their holders. And the letter said that I should find a new holder for it – glad I didn't have to make that choice."
"I just, I just feel a bit badly about it. I mean, I already have two perfectly good wands, and you haven't got any."
"Yeah." She frowned. "I told Scurry to lock away the plum wand in Hollywyck – that Death Eater disarmed me in serious combat, so the wand belongs to him now. Which is just dandy, you know."
"But you need your wand back, sooner or later."
"I'll manage… Which one is her house?"
"It's guarded, and mostly invisible, but she said she would be standing out in front."
"Oh! I see her!"
Amity Tweak was waving and running towards them. She was wearing a very bright patterned scarf tied around her neck, and she hugged Linus instead of saying hello. To Calliope she whispered "hello" in a tiny voice. "It's lovely to meet you. Please let's go inside – it's hard to talk over the noise."
The "noise" consisted of the occasional car, the distant traffic, and a few obnoxious starlings. Amity led them to her house (a cheerful, small abode). "I still live with my parents," she said softly, as her mother appeared at the door.
"Good day to you! Welcome, come on in, the tea's all set in the parlor, and I've told the boys to give you all perfect privacy. You see," she added, taking their coats, "The little boys – Amity's brothers – are staying with us. Hogwarts just isn't safe enough, I think. I want my boys at home. Besides, Amity and Frank and I can teach well enough – poor thing, though, since her voice…"
Two blond heads peered curiously at the visitors from down the hallway, but Amity scowled at them and they disappeared from sight. She led Linus and Calliope into the parlor, where several books on Memory Magic sat, as well as a large notebook lying open. Amity pointed to it.
"You'll write in this when you want to talk?" Linus interpreted her gesture.
Amity nodded, smiling.
"What exactly, if I may ask, was done to your voice?" Calliope asked.
Amity wrote in her notebook and handed it to her. It read, "Turpin Rowle – the man that kidnapped you – slipped me a potion in my chai tea. Healers said they never saw a potion like it before, but it had the same effect on my voice as if I had been screaming a lot every day for fifteen years. In short, there's scar tissue on my vocal cords that they're trying to get rid of. It will take a while."
Calliope looked up at her. "I'm so sorry."
Amity shrugged.
Handing the book back to her, Calliope said, "The potion that was fed to you – someone tried to poison me in St. Mungo's. They didn't do a good job of it, but the potion was like the one they tried to give you – unique, and imprecise."
Amity raised an eyebrow and nodded, causing Linus to say, "You know, you can't just do that as a substitution for speaking."
Amity cocked her other eyebrow, and Linus sighed. "Of course, what do I know?"
Grinning to herself, Amity fixed Calliope with keen blue eyes, in an expression eerily reminiscent of her brother.
After a moment, she took out her notebook and wrote, "Now, you're my patient. Tell me everything that happened pertinent to your captivity, everything at all that you think relevant."
"Er…" Calliope glanced at Linus.
Amity tapped him on the shoulder, then gestured, Out.
"What? But I'm her brother!"
The same gesture.
He glared at her, then, "Fine." He took his teacup and two biscuits and left, adding, "I'll be in the kitchen."
When he was gone, Amity nodded to Calliope, and wrote on her pad. She handed it to the other woman, who read, confusedly, "How are you doing? How's your day been?"
Amity nodded.
She thought. "Not bad, actually. Yesterday I had a real moment of clarity, which really brightened up my day. And I've been writing letters and things."
Amity nodded encouragingly and pointed to the book again. It read, "What do you like to do with your free time?"
"When I'm not in prison or in hospital? Heh… Well, I like music. Actually, yesterday I spent a lot of time writing out something…." She reached into her satchel. "It's an account, or confession, or… whatever you want to call it, of what happened. You can read it if you—"
Amity shook her head, and gestured, Read it aloud.
Calliope knew it would be no good to protest, so, in a soft and uncertain voice, began, "Well… Just for background, I guess… I had a sister named Benedicte, once."
ooo
Three cups of tea later, Calliope had reached the moment when the phantom Patronus had appeared. "I couldn't explain what it was – it pummeled him with the disc and looked at me, and I realized it was Benedicte, and I was terrified."
By writing, Amity asked, "How did you know?
"It was – I couldn't quite tell. There were no shadows, on a white face, you know what Patronuses look like. At first she looked stern, like she was concentrating on something, the way a Patronus should, you know? But when she had knocked him out, she looked at me with a – with a little smile. I was very bewildered.
"Then, she led me upstairs. Through the house – I'd never seen the rest of the house before – and then out to the back gate. But she vanished when someone approached. No, she didn't just vanish. First, she kind of touched my forehead. Do you want me to demonstrate?"
At the Obliviator's nod, Calliope reached up and touched her own forehead.
A frown.
"Oh. You mean on you."
When Amy nodded, Calliope tentatively reached out her hand. "Like –" she poked Amy's forehead with her thumb. "Um, like that.
In writing, "Did you feel anything when it vanished?"
"I don't know. It was mingled with the surprise of the person who showed up. But when the Patronus had touched me, I felt – like a baby again. Safe. Protected. Then of course, the person showed up… I don't know who it was, but it was a middle-aged woman who opened the gate for me after a minute. I think she must have lived there. Then, outside the gate was where Fleur found me. That was when I was set free. Technically speaking," she added.
"And how have you been feeling since then?"
"Confused. I don't feel like myself. I got a headache when I touched this book of mine – 'The Ballad of Lady Wren and Good Sister Helga.' It had belonged to Benedicte before me. And Linus – I feel angry with him all the time. He treats me like a child. No, like a test subject."
Amity tilted her head to the side, thoughtfully.
"And another thing – I can't stop wondering about what happened to the painting of my brother and sister and I. And about the set telling the story of the Rod of Asclepius."
The nod, again, saying Go on.
"The frame's… useless now. It broke off in my hand. It had seemed to be – you know, oak lasts a really long time. I don't know what to think about that. But – I'll tell you why I think the wood broke off. Oak is a strong wood. It doesn't splinter easily. But to make a frame is one thing – it's intended to stay firm, to show off a picture. A wand, however, is made of wood selected for, with a particular capacity for channeling magic. It's given a core to do most of the channeling. But when I used the wood in the frame, I was using non-magical wood to – "
Amity shook her head, and whispered, "There was some magic."
"Sorry?"
She wrote, "It had absorbed magic by osmosis for the past twenty years. A magical painting gave it some ability to channel, which was probably why it worked at all. Now, give me a minute to think."
She paused, and then wrote down extensively in her notebook. Then she handed it to the other woman.
"Expecto Patronum is a spell that requires memories to work. Memories agglutinate." (Calliope made a note to look that word up.) "You drew on memories to make the Patronus, and the magic came through them and moved through the frame, acting on the memories within the painting."
"The same way it would have worked on a phoenix feather," Calliope said aloud with a flash of inspiration. "Or a dragon's heartstring, or unicorn hair."
Amity nodded, gesturing Read On. Calliope did so.
"It didn't stop there, though. The strongest personality in that painting's memory was probably Benedicte. Her memories were added to the magic, and further along the chalk circle, there was another memory of her, so the spell went for that one next, Until it manifests as the Patronus that it was intended as, but something more, too."
Calliope thought about it. "Like a snowball set down a hillside, that gathers and gathers snow until… But what do you mean, something more?"
The Obliviator shrugged. When she got the notebook back, she wrote some more, and handed it over. "All of those items were imbued with spirit, with enough of B—'s life to give them a bit of her identity. The painting must have taken hours to make, to fill with her spirit – then, the little puppets, which she poured hours of dedication and thought into – everything was a part of her, and put that into the Patronus."
After she read this, Calliope nodded. "I guess so. And those were the memories that snowballed together… You've got a smile on your face. Why?"
Amity squeaked, "I was just thinking – it makes extra sense that these memories would consolidate to each other into a Patronus, of all things. After all, your sister must have loved you very much. That's perfect to help make a Patronus My own little brothers drive me crazy, but I'd –" she coughed loudly, then managed to say, "pummel anyone who hurt them."
"Please, don't strain yourself," Calliope urged. "Do – do you think her memory is erased forever?"
Amity shook her head.
"Could Linus break the Memory Charm?"
"Not Linus," Amy croaked. Taking up her notebook, she wrote, "It's insanely dangerous to break or cast a Memory Charm on yourself. But you or anyone else who still remembers her might – I don't know how, though."
"But what does her memories turning into a Patronus have to do with me and my memory loss?"
Again, Amity shrugged. Writing, "I have a theory. First of all, you mentioned yourself that there are three missing days between your capture and when you were found. I'm sure those missing days were Modified from your memory. Three entire days. That alone would play havoc with anyone's short-term memory. As well, you said that deep-seated memories from early in childhood were taken. That, too, will mess you up."
After she read this, Calliope dryly remarked, "You really are less formal than Linus. But that still doesn't explain the weird… compulsions I've been having."
"I have a theory," Amity started, when a loud crash sounded. She got up at once and went to the kitchen. Calliope trailed behind.
In the kitchen, one of Amity's little brothers was standing, covering his mouth in horror, in front of the wreckage of what had been a serviceable and noble cookie jar. "I didn't mean to," he wailed.
Linus, sitting at the table, stood up. "Allow me." He hesitated, then pulled out the new wand he'd received. "This is a very stubborn wand," he explained to the two women, "doesn't even want to levitate without putting up a fight… but, here goes. Reparo." He tapped the shards, and at once they formed themselves back into the jar. The cookies, too, flew upward and retuned to their place. "Oh…" he said.
Amity nodded, then beckoned to Linus to join them in the parlor. To her brother she shot a look saying I'll let Mum deal with you.
When they sat down again, Amity started to write at once. Calliope explained to her brother what the Obliviator had said thus far, and finished with, "She has a theory that she says would require Leglimancy. I'm not so sure about it…"
Linus listened, then turned to his colleague. "What is this theory? Or is it something else you can't tell me?"
Amity shook her head and held up her finger to indicate Just give me a minute. She continued writing, as Calliope asked Linus, "So the wand's stubborn, hm?"
"I don't know, it took to Reparo very quickly – and did a good job of it, too. But anything else is like pulling teeth from a Doxie…"
Amity waved to get their attention, and then handed the book to Linus to read aloud. He started, "C created a Patronus powered in part by B's memories." To his sister he asked, "You did?"
"Keep reading."
"The Patronus returned to her when it was no longer needed, as it should. But the Patronus returned to her bringing B's memories. Then, because C has had major sections of her memory tampered with, the foreign memories worked in easily to fill the gaps that Turpentine had made. I think." Linus put down the book. "You think?"
"It's what she does," his sister quipped.
"That's an incredible assumption to make," Linus said to Amity.
"But it explains a lot," Calliope said, half to herself.
Her brother looked at her, skeptical. "Do tell."
"It explains why I've been taking on some mannerisms I can't explain – drawing, for example, or calling you 'Little Dude' – why I have periods of time when I don't feel like myself, or exactly remember what I've been doing. Why I'm acting like you're my younger brother instead of older."
Linus asked, "Have you used a wand left-or-right handed, lately? Because Benedicte was probably right-handed."
"I haven't had much chance at all to use a wand lately, Linus."
Amity whispered, chipper despite her ragged voice, "Just stay calm, don't let your temper or fear get away with you and you should be fine." She began to whistle as she took the tea set away. (If Mark had been there he would have recognized the tune as 'Always Look On the Bright Side of Life.')
When she was gone, the brother and sister sat silent on the couch for a long time. Finally, he said, "I think we need to get you a wand."
She replied, "I'm not sure any wand will choose me at this point."
Amity came back in, and Calliope asked, "What do you suggest to do to deal with this on a day to day level? What if I start acting more like Benedicte than myself?"
To reply, Amity wrote out something very quickly in her notebook, then tore it out and handed it to her patient. It read,
"Do the things you love, the most Calliope-ish things you can.
"Spend time with the people who make you feel your best.
"When you feel compelled to act Benedicte-ish (a Benediction?) obey it, but not with abandon.
"Don't avoid B reminders, if they're a part of your day-to-day life, but don't seek out new ones, if you can.
"Remember, the human mind is pretty darn resilient. Friends and laughter and love can do a lot to help it.
"Feel free to write or visit me if any troubles arise.
"I will certainly let you know if I get any new insights.
"And that's all I've got to say about it."
ooo
Meanwhile, far away, in a house on the moors of England, Melanthios Matin was strolling along his ancestral halls.
All was well, at least as far as the house was concerned. As for the kinds of guests admitted into the place nowadays, he had a somewhat different idea – especially as concerning the frail old man moved into the basement, which was certainly no pleasure-stay – but then, Melanthios couldn't offer much comment on the situation, as he was a painting.
It had been his custom, back in life during the early 16th century, to take a constitutional every day over his lands, just to make sure everything was running smoothly, and that there were no pesky Muggles or other trespassers. And when his portrait was done up, everyone had laughed to see how his likeness had taken over that same habit – "canvassing the grounds," they laughed.
When the real Melanthios had died – and that was many, many years ago – his painted self had taken on the old habit as a sort of duty. He was now the oldest painting in the house, and had acquired a certain amount of wisdom, in the way of portraits.
So, when a new painting was installed in the library, Melanthios was eager to introduce himself. Besides, the painting was set up in some obscure, cobwebby corner of the library (facing the books on economics), and would probably get lonely.
He passed through the other library paintings, giving his customary greetings, but they all seemed rather distracted and frightened. Finally the painting of Pertelote Matin (his granddaughter) just admitted, "It's the new painting. There's something wrong about it."
"Pish-tosh," Melanthios had scoffed. "I remember the huge uproar when that Impressionist piece was moved into the dining room. And now it's one of the most beloved paintings in the house. I'm sure it's just unfamiliarity."
But he stopped when he entered the new painting.
It was absolutely still, absolutely silent. The subjects were arranged so: a teenage girl standing behind a couch. On the couch sat a very young boy with a baby girl, as if they were playing.
Nothing that Melanthios did could wake up the subjects, incite them to speak, or in any way move.
They were almost like… a Muggle painting.
But that couldn't be. Melanthios had met a few Muggle paintings in his life, and you could not enter them. This painting was enchanted, but somehow – the enchantment had been blocked.
"Damn and blast," he muttered.
Being a portrait, he had no magic of his own. But as he was still, in a sense, Melanthios Matin, he felt personally responsible for the well-being of his household and all in it, even if now his responsibilities were limited to the two-dimensional residents. How could he resolve this situation?
He sighed, and thought of all the strange guests who had been entering the house lately. Perhaps one of them would be able to help.
Though they didn't all seem the friendliest sort… Well, he'd always been a good judge of character. If one came along who seemed likely, he would ask their aide.
Hopefully that day would be soon…
ooo
Shameless Plug: Stay tuned for next week's, "What Remus Lupin Had To Say."