A/N: Hello, beautiful people! How are you doing? So, here we are, on chapter 24 out of 27. Athena's fifth year is coming to an end and I'm accompanying the sixth year happening through gameplays on YouTube, while judging Jam City for recycling a bunch of Harry Potter stuff. I wanna know what your theories, hopes and fears are for year 6. Also, I wanna thank you all for the lovely reviews and messages, and I hope you enjoy today's chapter. If you have any comments, critiques or concerns, feel free to contact me.
Chapter Twenty-Four – Memories
Said I forgot, but I did not
Dreams we have had play in my head
Did we believe in the cry of the wind?
Did we regret? Would we forget? *
50 Erumpent Turd Dungbombs
20 Dr. Filibuster's Fabulously Slimy Fireworks
10 Ever-Bashing Loudly Singing Boomerangs
100 Extra-Small Toe-Biting Cups
10 Stink Pellets
40 Auto-Exploding Paint Balloons
100 Extremely Sticky Floating Worms
10 Auto-Vomit Powder
"This is absolutely insane," Rowan says, checking the list as we walk along Hogsmeade's main street. "How much is this going to cost?"
"According to the Zonko's catalogue? A lot," I say. "But I asked Grandpa to send me some cash. I told him it was for some books. I didn't have the courage to say why I actually needed the money."
"Well, let's see if Bilton Bilmes has these items in stock."
As expected, Tulip and Tonks are already there, filling a basket with floating candles that melt and make the person's skin terribly itchy.
"They are barbarians," Rowan says, grabbing the Dungbombs as if she's holding something horribly disgusting. "Why doesn't Peeves simply cooperate?"
"I wish it was that easy," I say, counting the boxes of Stinky Pellets. "It seems like we're about to clear the shelves…"
"I hope the prank they have planned is chaotic enough to make Peeves give us the portrait," she says. "If it doesn't, I'll put this Auto-Vomit Powder in their oats."
That night, with all the purchases organized in a box under Tulip's bed, as Rowan reads and I take another look at my brother's journal, Tulip takes note on a notepad, scratching some things and laughing loudly afterwards. When she finally puts the paper aside, there's a deeply amused and satisfied grin on her face. When the lights are off, she even giggles in her sleep.
I stay awake for a while, wondering what will happen and what will it mean when we find the hidden portrait. Where will it lead us, then? Will it be the start of another clue, taking us into a never-ending maze of confusion?
When I finally close my eyes, I'm transported into a beautiful place in dreamland, in an island of big blooming flowers and rageful waters that angrily hit the rocks on the shore. Above me, trees with pending vines and colourful fruits add to the beautiful landscape, completed by the endless bright blue sky. Standing on the shore with my toes sinking in the white sand, I stare at the cloudless immensity, enjoying the sounds of the waves and the birds, feeling incredible at peace. When I look ahead, from the cliffs in the distance, I see a bird take flight, soaring gracefully towards the island where I'm standing. It takes just a few seconds for it to reach me, landing softly on a low branch of a nearby tree.
Strangely, it doesn't surprise me when the bird – a beautiful eagle – transforms, turning into the same sorrowful red eyes I have seen staring back at me in the gardens.
His name escapes my lips unconsciously. "Talbott…"
He looks at me, a thousand shades of crimson in his irises, but there's no sadness in his eyes. His lips are curled into a soft and amused smile, and when he reaches out, offering his hand to me, I don't hesitate to hold it. It feels right to be near him, feeling his arms gently closing around me, hearing his heartbeat above the sounds of the raging ocean. I get lost in his eyes until the morning comes and I open my own into a world where what happened wasn't true.
Or was it?
Rowan isn't on her bed anymore. I check my watch, verifying that she's probably on Prefect duties. Looking around, attesting that all my roommates are still sound asleep, I open the drawer from my bedside table, fishing from underneath books and other items the scrapbook that Rowan tried to show me a while back. I rest my back against the pile of pillows, taking a deep breath before opening the cover.
Along the pages, dozens of pictures stare back at me. There is my Mum and my Dad, Jake and my grandparents, Holly and all of my friends. There's even the awkward picture of when I was in love with Barnaby and he kissed me on the cheek while the picture was taken. I grin at the redness in my face, but my smile vanishes as I turn the following pages.
There are pages and pages filled with pictures of him.
Of us.
All of them, beautifully enchanted, show us smiling, kissing and having fun. I see us under the sun with the sea as the background and other of us in sweaters and scarves, ice skating at the Pavilion. A page after that, there's one of us gracefully dressed in what seems to be my Aunt Agrafena's penthouse. I run my fingers along the edge of the pictures, hating the feeling of nothingness that comes with each and every one of them.
What were we?
We seemed so happy…
Why, from everyone that I know, I forgot justly him?
I land my head on the pillow, staring at the dark blue fabric of the canopy. Whatever the Vaults are and whoever is involved, managed to separate me from someone who, apparently, used to be important to me.
What even happened?
I contour one of them, – one of the most beautiful ones – where we seem to be baking, because there's flour on his face and my lips are stained with melted chocolate. There's a huge smile on our faces and, when we look at each other, there's only love, friendship and happiness. I show him the tongue and he plants a kiss on my nose, chuckling afterwards. Strangely, I can almost hear it. I don't understand why, but a solitaire tear rolls coldly.
Should I talk to him?
Should I try to make some sense of it all?
In these pictures, his eyes seem so joyful. How can these same eyes portray the overwhelming amount of sadness that I have witnessed?
"Talbott," I whisper to the first rays of sunshine, almost as if I'm telling a secret to the morning.
Whoever he is, he meant something for me, and I have loved him deeply, for the quotes in between the pictures are words of pure love. It feels wrong that I can't feel it and that I can't remember it.
Was my dream just a dream or a memory?
How many things did we live together and that were stolen from my remembrances?
Regardless of the danger that lurk outside, something compels me to get up. Still on my pyjamas, making sure everyone is asleep, I kneel on the window seat, eyeing the dawn outside. Without a further thought, I leap, greeting the air as I spread my wings, feeling the wind in my feathers as I fly along a path that my heart seems to know.
He's standing on a narrow balcony with his back rested against a closed wooden door. His eyes are facing the horizon, lost somewhere in the distance. When I land, transforming back, he doesn't move to look at me.
"I knew you'd find me," he says. "Eventually."
"I was dreaming of you," I tell him. "Just now."
His face turns and he looks at me, his hues a beautiful red blend of sadness and hope. "Were you?"
I nod. "Was it just a dream? Did we really live all of that?"
His cheeks blush a little bit. "We did."
I take a step forward. "Why don't I remember it? Why don't I feel the things I am supposed to be feeling? You mean something to me, don't you? Why doesn't my heart race when I look at you?"
He allows me to get closer, gently reaching out to hold my hands. His skin is soft and warm, and the strange proximity makes my eyes tear. When I look at him, there are tears on the edge of his eyes as well.
"Why are you crying?" I ask.
He sniffs. "It kills me, but I'm glad you forgot me."
I frown. "Why?"
He looks down, lovelorn. "One less broken heart. Now you can move on. You'll be safe and I'll be comforted by the thought that I'll never hurt you again."
"Is it this easy to walk right out of what we used to have?"
His eyes move away, somewhere in a distant cloud formation, and he chuckles softly. "It would've been marvellously poetic, wouldn't it? To make you fall in love with me all over again. In a different world, perhaps. Under different circumstances…"
He looks at me. "You might not remember, but that night on Christmas, when you flew into my bedroom… I meant it when I said that I love you. And I'll continue loving you, thought I don't know for how long. It will be painful, but I'd rather live a lifetime without you and knowing that I'll never hurt you again."
"But you are hurting me!" I say. "Maybe not this current empty mind of mine, but the person in those pictures… You are hurting her. Though I don't remember, I know that I love you too. Why not fight for it? Aren't those memories worth fighting for?"
"Many months ago, I told you I wouldn't randomly attack you," he says. "But I did."
"And it wasn't you!" I exclaim. "It was that demoni-"
"And I almost lost you," he says, risking a step closer. "I will never forget that I was the reason that your heart nearly stopped beating."
"This isn't fair! That girl in those pictures… If she ever remembers… She'll never forgive me if I let you go."
He lifts his hand, gently cupping my cheek. "That's the right word, you see? If… You'll always be my greatest what if."
"But I don't have to be," I reply.
He leans over, tilting his head and placing the softest of kisses on my lips. I close my eyes, hating my heart for not racing and my mind for not remembering. There is something in between us that is so palpable, but I feel like I can't reach it anymore.
"In another life, perhaps," he whispers to my lips. "I love you, Athena, and what it means to lose you is something I'll never be able to express in words."
It's a beautiful springy day, coloured by blooming roses and lilies, gracious butterflies and birds, and the calming sound of the fountain on the Courtyard. The sun, shining bright and warm, sends rays in between the leaves of the nearby maples and chestnuts. All around the place, students reading, studying, practicing spells or simply talking can be spotted. In one corner, a group is playing Explosive Snap. It's an overall beautiful and calm day, perfect for relaxation.
Unless you're Tulip and Tonks.
They are standing on the balcony, constantly checking their watches. Each and every trap is set to begin in a few minutes, and Rowan and I are waiting on the far end, counting the seconds until the mess begins.
"How will Peeves even be sure that you were the master mind behind it all?" she asks.
"He's watching from above the tower," I tell her, waving at Peeves, who seems overwhelmingly bored.
"How long until it all st-"
It starts innocent. The fireworks explode on the sky, sending shimmering curtains above the Courtyard. Everyone watches is in surprise and enchantment, until it starts raining heavy drops of a green and slimy substance.
After that, is havoc. People start screaming, and the Dungbombs are released, followed by the paint balloons. They burst in a mixture of gooey colourful pain and a disgusting scent, making people cover their heads and faces and run around aimlessly.
And that's when the Cups enter. They hop along the ground, bickering the unsuspecting feet, making the place explode in screams and curses. The Stink Pellets come next, making people cover their noses not to vomit, but when the floating shakers filled with Auto-Vomit Powder start pouring its content like a strange snow, the chaos ends in people simply opening their mouths and vomiting heavily on each other. The nausea stops as soon as the shakers disappear, leaving the ground in a disgusting mixture of paint, turd and vomit. A first year Hufflepuff slips on the goo, falling on his back and diving into the two-inch cover of grossness. When I lift my head to look at the tower, Peeves is laughing so hard that there's no sound coming out from his mouth.
"We did it, Athie," Rowan says. "We ruined a perfect spring morning. Instead of smelling like flowers, now it smells like the sewers."
"Tulip and Tonks seem pleased with themselves," I say. "I confess I don't think it's funny to spoil everyone's day."
"Don't let Peeves hear you say it," she warns. "Boy, Filch is going to be beyond mad…"
"I feel bad that I won't be able to help him clean up…"
"Pranks are a waste of time," Rowan adds. "Well, let's find a way back into the castle and talk to Peeves."
"Will Filch be able to trace the prank back to Tulip and Tonks?" I ask her.
She shrugs leave the Courtyard, contouring the castle from the gardens, towards an exit that doesn't involve human fluids. "They aren't the only wrongdoers in this place."
We enter through a door that takes us to the Great Hall. There are footprints of dejects that lead to the hospital wing and, in the distance, we can still hear people screaming and Madam Pomfrey yelling something unintelligible. Cornered on top of a bench, a girl is shouting while dozens of the Toe-Biting Cups are trying to nibble her shoes. Rowan rolls her eyes, releasing an exasperated gasp as we walk back to the Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. This time, the place is clean and dry, unlike the poor Courtyard.
Circling the place, Peeves is still giggling, rolling in the air in profound joy. "You did it!" he rejoices. "You wreaked havoc and unleashed the chaos!"
"The hospital wing is full of vomiting students," Rowan says, drily.
"Isn't it remarkable?" he says, amused. "Little kids… Hopping around… Stinking of poo… Vomiting on the ground…"
"That's a great rhyme," I say, portraying a smile. "Thank you for the opportunity, Peeves. It was certainly fun."
"Wasn't it?" he says, somersaulting in the air.
"What do you say we do it another time?" I suggest. "At the end of the school year, perhaps. Maybe we could unleash the chaos inside Rakepick's office."
He opens a huge mischievous grin. "I like the way you think, Nutty Lockhart."
"I'd love to help with that," Rowan says.
"Can we see the portrait, Peeves?" I ask. "The one you said you have?"
He releases a giggle. "Surely! Follow me, you numpty freaks."
Peeves leaves the bathroom, floating happily while laughing excitedly. We follow him to the end of the corridor, where two big and old vases guard an old and chipped wooden door with several humidity stains.
"A broom closet?" Rowan asks.
The poltergeist laughs again, crossing the solid door and disappearing on the inside. I grab the old knob, opening it with a shriek. The interior is dark and smells of mould, and we Rowan and I lift our wands to bring some light to the place, our eyes widen in surprise.
"MERLIN FATHER OF MAGIC!" Rowan gasps, shocked.
When Ben introduced us to his artifact room, a dark and cramped place where he used to hide, I didn't imagine that there were other places like that in the castle, hidden in the form of abandoned rooms. Peeves' secret room even more shocking than Ben's. It is jampacked from the ground to the high ceiling with thousands – or maybe millions – of strange items. There are hundreds of books, piles of old scrolls, a bowl filled with buzzing rings and even a chandelier that is mercilessly tossed on one side.
Rowan's eyes seem to widen with every moment, desperately trying to absorb what she's seeing. There are pieces of broken wands and even some that are intact, golden frames lined against the wall and rolls of rugs that make it hard to walk around.
"This is…" I start, unsure of what to say. "An amazing collection, Peeves."
"Isn't it?" he smiles proudly. "Now lemme show you the incredible portrait."
He tweaks behind an old wardrobe that is filled with clothes and colourful shoes, returning after with a small abstract painting of himself.
"What is this?" Rowan asks.
"A portrait of Peeves," he giggles. "Isn't it beautiful?"
I blink a few times. "Very. But we were looking for another portrait. A magical one that probably many people have been looking for. You are part of the magical world, Peeves. You probably recognize strong magic when you see it."
"Aw, how slick and glib you are…" he says. "Yeah, I think I might have another portrait in here…"
He disappears under a pile of empty Chocolate Frog boxes, tossing aside a few cards that Rowan discreetly grabs and sticks in her pockets.
"What?" she whispers. "I collect them too."
A while later, Peeves returns with a portrait the same size as the previous one, but this one has a silvery frame and shows the image of a circular room with a coppery door. The magic that emanates from it is so strong that it makes the hairs on my arms stand. Peeves proudly shows it to us, as if he's an auctioneer presenting a rare piece.
"This is it," I mumble, mesmerized. "Peeves, you found it."
"Actually, he had this the entire time," Rowan corrects.
"Happy to help," he says, handing me the portrait. "Come back anytime. I have some Dungbombs from 1952 that still smell like dog poop."
"Sounds lovely," Rowan says. "But Peeves… Don't let this chocolate here to rot. Ship them to the Ravenclaw Tower that I'll have a much better use for them."
I don't know which new strikes whom harder. Mr. Filch gets half astonished and half anxious when I tell him that all the stolen artifacts he's been looking for are hidden in a room on the second floor. The hardest thing for him, perhaps, is to promise me that he won't do anything until the summer break, when I'm far away from the castle and Peeves can't figure out that I was the one who snitched him.
Rakepick, just like him, gets entirely amazed when I request a meeting to give her the portrait. She sits on the armchair in her office, clearly longing to put her claws in the portrait, but she maintains her legs crossed and an impeccable posture, though the sinister gleam on her eyes give her away.
"At last, we have our way in," she says, smoothly.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
She smirks. "Can't you feel the magic? This is a Portkey. The map could only tell me that the Vault was underground, deeper than the dungeons, but how were we supposed to get there? Why were people after this portrait, that is seemingly an insignificant thing? This is how we'll get there."
"What are we going to find in there?" I ask. "We've faced frozen soldiers and beasts, but-"
"What did you find inside the last Vault?" she asks.
"A tiny sweater that kinda led us to the map and the picture of a dragon."
"Which dragon?"
"According to Charlie, a Hungarian Horntail," I tell her.
She relaxes on her chair, looking at the organized shelves in her office, where many books and artifacts are carefully placed. In a corner, Sickleworth is playing with a ball of year that seems to be made of gold strands.
"Have you ever faced a dragon, Miss Lockhart?" she asks.
I shake my head.
"I have," she says. "They aren't hard to knock out when outnumbered. It won't require much of you nor a diverse range of spells. All we need is to be in a large group and, as far as I'm concerned, you have yourself a very large group of loyal friends."
I nod. "They're all willing to go."
"Some of them are rather weak," she says. "Like Miss Snyde. She isn't ready, but she's grown quite attached to me. You'll have to look out for her after I'm gone."
"What do you mean by gone?"
She sighs. "The dragon is just one enemy. Your brother didn't go pass this Vault and there must be a reason for that. Well… Let's just say that I'd die before I'd let anything happen to any of you."
I cross my arms, pretending to relax on the chair across from her desk, though I can perfectly feel the handle of my wand with my fingertips.
Just in case.
"When's the best time to go?" I ask her.
She looks gravely at me. "The sooner the better. Merlin knows what might happen if we delay any longer. There are hundreds of students trapped and, wanting or not, you'll have your OWLS in June. I reckon you'll do great in your Dark Arts exam. You'd be an excellent curse-breaker, Miss Lockhart."
I smile softly. "This has been my career goal for a while now. It is remarkable… The things that you have done and the things that you have taught me."
She smiles as well. "This is one of the most rewarding things of being a teacher. Your students always carry something you've taught them."
I look away, clenching my jaw. "Aren't you afraid?"
"Of what?"
"The Vault," I answer.
Her red lips curl in a condescending grin. "Not at all. I won't be alone, after all. Besides, I have faced more dangerous things in my life. The Vaults are just… one of them."
"You're fearless," I say, softly.
She chuckles. "No one is entirely fearless."
"What are you afraid of?" I ask, curious.
"You'll laugh at me…" she says. "I'm afraid of the dark. I've been sleeping with a lit candle ever since I was a child. Black, blue and purple. My mother taught me about candles and their uses. This combo is great for protection."
I smile. "See? You're always teaching me something new."
She nods, entwining her fingers over her lap. "Go prepare, Miss Lockhart, and be ready. We'll be facing the Vaults tomorrow. Tell your friends not to worry. We'll have each other's back."
I nod. "I'll be waiting for your sign."
* A Dance 'Round the Memory Tree, by Oren Lavie.
