January 25, 1982
"I promise, I'll take it!" Calandra said as soon as the healer came into the room.
"I promise. I'll take the potion, but you have to let me talk to someone." She pleaded.
The healer sighed heavily.
"You are not permitted visitors." The old witch said.
"Anyone!" Calandra said past the burning in her throat.
"Someone! Anyone! Please! Alice, Frank, Remus…Anyone! I promise I'll follow the healing plan. I'll take all the potions. The magic suppressants, everything. Just let me talk to someone!"
The healer lifted her eyes to the ceiling. She heaved another sigh and set the tray of little vials on the table by the bed. The broad old witch turned and placed her hands on her hips, giving Calandra a firm look.
"You know I cannot-" she began.
"Alice Longbottom!" Calandra said. "Please. Just let me speak to her."
The mediwitch sighed again, turned around, and walked straight out the door.
Calandra jumped out of bed and rushed to the door, trying to follow the other witch. The door was firmly in place by the time Calandra got there. She pounded on the door and pleaded.
"Please!" she raised her voice as much as she could.
Her vocal cords burned.
"Please! I promise! I'll take the potions! Please!"
Calandra flung her fists at the door, hoping someone, anyone would hear her. She opened her hands and slapped her palms against the door, tip toeing until her lips were at the corner of that blue glowing window.
"Please! I just want to talk! I'll take them! Please let me speak with Alice! I'll take them! I promise!" her voice caught in her throat.
"Please!" she yelled. "Please!"
She slid to her knees at the door, hands still pressed against the cool surface. She pressed her forehead against the door, willing it to open, but knew it would remain firmly shut. She sat there, as her head started to pound and ache. Her throat burned, and she had to press her hands hard against the door to stop them from shaking. How was she going to get out of here? How was she ever going to convince them to let Sirius out?
January 26, 1982
"You have a visitor." The healer said as soon as she came into the room. She handed two vials to Calandra. Calandra tilted the potions back and swallowed them quickly. The healer promptly turned around and walked back through the doorway.
Calandra barely noticed the relief in her throat as she ran to the doorway. Alice! They'd finally let Alice come. She had her hands out in front of her, ready to embrace her friend, when a tall wizard in midnight blue robes strode into the room. Calandra's arms fell to her sides.
"Hello, Ms. White." Dumbledore said calmly.
"I thought they were letting Alice visit me." Calandra said.
"I'm afraid that isn't possible." Dumbledore said, walking to the small table by the bed.
"Why not?" Calandra demanded. "I haven't signed anything regarding my admission here. I didn't even sign myself in. I know the regulations. They can only keep me ninety days."
Dumbledore nodded, running a hand along the table.
"Yes, under normal circumstances, you'd be able to leave within the week." He said, then gave her a shrewd look. "But these are hardly normal circumstances, are they Ms. White? Your magic is still extremely unstable. Linked as it is to your voice, I daresay that until your voice is healed your magic will be quite dangerous."
"I can get healing in my own home for that." Calandra said.
"Well, it isn't really your decision to make." Dumbledore said.
"What?" Calandra expostulated. "Of course it is. I'm of age!"
"Yes, but your care was put into the next of kin while you were indisposed. In the magical coma you put yourself into." Dumbledore explained.
"I don't hav…" Calandra trailed off, bringing her hand up to her mouth.
"No." she said, horrified. "No!"
Dumbledore pushed his glasses up his nose with a long, thin finger.
"Your father has graciously paid the expense for your ward here." Dumbledore said.
"No! He has no hold over me. He can't." Calandra shook her head.
"He's your father." Dumbledore explained. "He's your only blood relation left. He is your next of kin."
"Well, I'm better now!" Calandra exclaimed. "I can take care of myself. I can deal with the healers."
"You're far from better, Ms. White." Dumbledore shook his head. "It is my understanding that if not under suppressant potions your magic is unable to be properly channeled. You pose quite a threat to yourself and those around you."
"But that's just-" Calandra said desperately. "I already agreed to take the potions. I'll sign anything they need. I'll make an unbreakable vow."
"The healers are worried about more than just your magic, Ms. White." Dumbledore said.
"I'm not crazy. I haven't gone mad. I'm fine!" Calandra exclaimed.
"The healers think differently. I saw your unstable state myself when you first came here. You were raving on about matters that were quite speculative."
"It's true!" she cried. "Sirius is innocent! He'd never do that to James! I know! I know! So would you if you cared to think about it for a bloody minute."
"I cannot say that I share your beliefs, Ms. White." He said.
"He didn't even get a trial!" Calandra said, tears streaming down her face. "He wasn't even put up before the council. How can you stand for that?"
Dumbledore was silent.
"It was not my decision." He finally said and walked toward the door.
He paused at the door, peering at the blue light that glowed form the window.
"Neither is this." He said, gesturing around the room he stood in.
"Oh really?" Calandra asked, lips curling into a sneer.
"Who informed them of my next of kin? It isn't kept record anywhere but Gringott's and Hogwart's. St. Mungo's doesn't have the means to bribe the information from the goblins."
"My emergency contact has always been Alice." Calandra said. "Frank removed my father from my file here two years ago."
"I'm very sorry, Ms. White. I hope you feel better, soon." Dumbledore said, and strode out the door.
January 29, 1982
Calandra sat at the door and pounded her fists against it. She tried to yell but no sound came out. She'd been standing against the door for the past three days alternating between slamming her fists against it, screaming her head off, and ramming the bedside table against it.
She'd hoped that the noise would attract someone's attention and they'd come check on her. She just needed one person. Anyone besides the healer that Dumbledore had in his grip. Just one person to talk to. To explain that she was trapped.
Calandra pressed her temple against the door and begged someone to hear her. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the gray stone in front of her. She slammed her fists against the door and listened for footsteps. The air was silent. No one was coming. She was alone.
February 4, 1982
Calandra stared at the two vials of potion on the bedside table. She had about five minutes to drink them on her own before the healer would come in and stun her. Trying to refuse them didn't work anymore. She couldn't dump them down the drain. She already tried. There was some sort of shield charm on the toilet, the bathtub, and the sink. Every time she tried to get rid of the potions that way, the liquid would hang suspended in the air above the drain or the toilet, then funnel itself back into the vial.
Calandra wracked her brain, trying to think of a way to escape. She couldn't take the suppressants; how would she ever get out without her magic? She paced the length of the room and collapsed on the edge of the bed when her legs started to shake.
The doorknob shook and the elderly witch came in. She glanced at the bedside table with a resigned expression and sighed. The healer waved her wand, and the two vials flew into her outstretched hand. She turned to Calandra and shook her head.
"It will be easier if you simply take the potions yourself, Ms. White. Having to stun you does not help your healing process."
Calandra stared coldly at the witch. She lifted her chin defiantly and the witch pursed her lips. She tried to push her magic out, tried to cast a shield charm on herself, but couldn't. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was the inky purple liquid that swirled in the vial.
February 12, 1982
Another week went by of Calandra trying and failing to shield herself from the potions. She asked the healer everyday if she could speak with someone else. Every single day she found herself repeating the same phrase over and over again
"He's innocent. Sirius Black is innocent."
Every day she prayed that the witch would finally listen to her.
The healer always pursed her lips and forced the potion down Calandra's throat. Then she would leave, and Calandra would be left alone. Alone with the thoughts that seemed to suffocate her. The thoughts of never getting Sirius out of that hell hole. The thoughts of her father trapping her here. The thoughts of Alice searching for her.
She had to get out. But how?
February 14, 1982
"I'll take it on my own." Calandra said numbly when the healer came into the room.
"Getting a bit tired of the headache that comes along with getting stunned?" the healer quipped.
Calandra sat on the edge of her bed.
"It's the only thing in my life I can control." She said quietly.
The healer sniffed and placed two vials on the bedside table.
Calandra immediately tilted the vial with the blue liquid back and swallowed it down. She winced at the pain as the healer shut the door. She had ten minutes, fifteen at most, before the healer would come back. Calandra sat on the edge of her bed and waited. She counted down the minutes in her mind.
When the doorknob turned Calandra quickly drank the purple vial and held out both glasses to the healer. The old witch nodded in approval and turned back to the door. As soon as she shut it behind her, Calandra ran to the bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet.
Would it work?
Calandra forced herself to retch into the toilet and she smiled a triumphant smile when the contents swirled away down the drain. She sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth. It would take a while, but it would work.
If what the healer said was true, the blue potion would heal her. When the potion stopped burning her throat, her voice would be healed. She had to hope that her magic would be as well. At least enough so she could control it. She'd take the blue potion as soon as the healer brought it. If she was going to vomit it back up later, she wanted as much of it in her system as she could get. The purple potion would always be last minute, that way it wouldn't dampen her magic very much. She needed her magic to get out.
Calandra had a plan. It was a gossamer thin shred of hope, but it was something. She wouldn't stop asking the healer for Alice and she wouldn't stop telling her Sirius was innocent, but she had a plan now if the healer never listened to her. It wasn't hopeless anymore. She could get out. She'd have to bide her time, but she would get out. And when she did, she would get him out.
February 17, 1982
Calandra woke screaming, drenched in sweat. She scrambled out of bed and fell to the floor. This specific nightmare hadn't been part of her dream repertoire for quite some time. Usually her nightmare's centered around reliving the scene in Azkaban; watching Sirius be thrown in the cell and the dementors surrounding her, leaving her with a hollow feeling when she opened her eyes. On those days, she walked around numb.
This dream was the opposite. This dream placed her right back in the forest, with Regulus's eyes delving into hers, except this time Avery tortured her while she sat frozen, staring into those beautiful grey eyes. In her dream, they found him. There was no hidden message, no help clouding her mind. They knew exactly where he was, and they found him. Then they brought him to the forest.
The cruciatus in her dream hurt so much worse when Sirius was the one who cast it. His eyes were tortured and filled with self-loathing as Regulus made him turn his wand on Calandra. But it was nothing like the pain that stabbed her heart when they killed him, when he fell at her feet. When those grey eyes grew lifeless.
Calandra gasped for air, trying to shake the image from her head. It was just a dream. Just a horrible, wretched dream. Siris was alive. Stuck in Azkaban, but alive. Calandra would get him out. She pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself, laying on the cold stone floor. She drifted off to sleep sometime early the next morning, and that's where the healer found her when she came in with that day's potions.
February 28, 1982
She paced the room. Eight steps across, eight steps back. Over and over and over again. Calandra tried to think about anything other than the pain in her throat. Her mind raced as she traced the same pattern on the tile. She thought of Alice.
What was she doing?
Did she miss her?
Did she think Calandra had anything to do with Voldemort?
Was she looking for her?
Did she go back to work fulltime?
She knew Alice missed Neville when she was at work.
Or did she decide to stay on part time and stay home with Neville?
How was he?
What was his favorite toy now?
Did he still play with the stuffed frog Calandra got him?
He loved it. It croaked when you squeezed it.
Calandra's mind strayed to Neville.
Those cheeks. Those absolutely adorable cheeks she wanted to kiss and tickle and squeeze.
His eyes. How they would light up when she held her arms out to him.
His little toddler run. Legs jerking out when he barreled toward her.
His laugh. The pitch of his voice as it rose and got caught in his throat when he was especially tickled at something.
The feel of him in her arms, heavy weight settling into her as he drifted off to sleep.
Neville.
Calandra stopped in her tracks and said his name out loud.
"Neville."
She stared at the wall and let her tears fall. She'd get out. She'd go to them. She'd see him again.
Her voice cracked when she repeated his name, but she had to say it. She had to say it out loud. Had to keep him real, the little boy she loved more than she loved herself. His name tasted sweet and pure and light against the salt of her tears on her tongue.
"Neville."
March 5th, 1982
"Can I please have an owl?" Calandra asked, knowing the answer.
"I'm sorry, Ms. White. The stipulations of your admission to the ward forfeited owls."
She swallowed the potion and stared at the ceiling.
March 17th, 1982
"I'd like my own personal belongings." Calandra said as soon as the healer stepped through the door.
"Your ward is furnished with everything you need for recovery." The witch smoothly replied.
"Please. Just a couple things. A journal, a picture, my own clothing." Calandra said.
"I'm afraid I can't." the healer said.
"Just the journal, then. Just it. One item." Calandra pleaded.
The mediwitch turned and left the room, leaving the vials of potion on the table by the bed.
March 21st, 1982
"Please." Calandra bit out. "I'll do whatever you ask. I'm following the plan. I'm taking the potions. Please let me have my journal."
"I do not have it. I cannot give it to you." the healer said, voice firm.
"I can tell you where to go. I'll give you the address." Calandra said.
"I'm afraid I cannot go into patient's homes." The healer said.
"Or someone could bring it to you. If you just let me talk to Alice, she can give it to you." Calandra pleaded.
"You know the terms of your admission." The healer said, setting the second vial down firmly on the bedside table.
"I just want the journal. Just my journal. Nothing else." Calandra lied. "Please."
The healer closed the door behind her.
March 30th, 1982
"I want an owl." Calandra said.
"You know I cannot do that Ms. White." The mediwitch didn't bother looking at her
"I want a calendar." She said.
"A calendar?" the healer echoed in surprise.
Calandra nodded.
"Please." She added as an afterthought.
The healer peered at her and left the room.
April 1st, 1982
Calandra stared at the date on the small calendar the healer had brought her. Her eyes followed the curve of the numbers and she re-read the words on the page over and over and over again, thankful to have something to look at.
April Fool's.
Sirius loved April Fool's Day. He and James and Remus and Peter went to any length to pull off their stunts. They planned some of them for weeks ahead of time.
Calandra ran a finger over the small square on the page, thinking back on years before. She'd been victim to many of their April Fool's pranks, but then again, who hadn't?
James had slipped croaking potion in Flitwick's tea once, and the tiny professor couldn't do anything but ribbit like a frog for the whole class period. Flitwick was pretty good natured about it and showed them all how to charm their desktops into tiny lakes, complete with lily pads and cattails.
Peter and Sirius brewed a large batch of sleeping draught fourth year and sprayed the whole cauldron over the Whomping Willow so they could climb it. They were almost successful, too. But the willow woke up and threw them all the way to the great lake. Between the two of them they had twenty-three broken bones.
One year, Remus had charmed the other boys' books to shout naughty things every time they turned a page. Peter, Sirius, and James all got detention that day and Remus never let them live it down.
James asked McGonagall to Hogsmeade sixth year and was bowled over when she actually said yes. Calandra saw Sirius slip her five galleons the next day during class. Turns out Peter, Remus, and Sirius had a bet going on if she'd actually say yes, and Sirius promised McGonagall half his winnings if he won. He never told her what outcome he was betting on, but somehow McGonagall figured it out.
Calandra stared down at the page in front of her, blocking out the stone walls around her and concentrating only on the page. If she only focused on the bold number one in front of her, she could pretend like she was back at Hogwarts, in her dorm, getting ready for the day. She thought of every single April Fool's Day prank she'd ever witnessed, and attempted to squash down the overwhelming sadness she felt in her very soul.
