Chapter 36: Memories

AN: Please hang in there with the fanfic, even though the next two chapters will not be as fun and exciting. I promise that things will get very good when Kersti returns to Hogwarts, because a certain Marauder will have spent the break realizing that he misses his Grindylow much, much more than he anticipated. After all, we've still yet to see the real romance happening. The next two chapters will be on the sadder side, with angst, emotional hurt/suffering and grieving. Feel free to skip the next two chapters at your discretion if the subject matter is a concern :)

I also just wanted to say a massive, heartfelt thank you to everyone who has been reviewing the story. I really enjoy hearing all that you have to say and I'm so excited to share the upcoming chapters with all of you.

Some definitions/translations:

-kanelbullar: cinnamon buns

-dammsugare: also called arrak rolls. A rolled dessert made with marzipan.

-Jansson's Temptation: a kind of potato dish

-julskinka: Swedish Christmas ham

Northern Lights by Death Cab for Cutie

I spent the remainder of Saturday and Sunday getting my things in order for Monday. In secret, I went around my parents' house getting rid of any evidence of my existence. Some things I kept for myself, like photographs of the four of us together; other things I burnt, like various documents that mentioned me. I sealed my bedroom door closed with magic, so that it wouldn't open to anyone without alohomora, and in there I sorted through what clothes I'd keep, which ones I'd give to the Salvation Army, and which ones were beyond use. I tried to act as normally as I could around them, but their fates weighed achingly heavy on me, and as the hours passed and as I got rid of more and more evidence, it grew harder to pretend that I was alright. Here they were, going about their holidays like every other one before, unaware of what their daughter was going to do to them that would alter the course of their lives forever.

Mum was busy all day in the kitchen on Sunday, making several traditional Swedish Christmas dishes in advance of the twenty-fifth. This would be the last time that I'd get to experience this, and so I spent the day with her, helping her make the julskinka, Jansson's Temptation, and Swedish meatballs. She let me make the glögg- a spiced mulled wine- by myself. Part of me wondered what would happen to the Christmas food after I obliviated them. Would they take it with them? Or would it all go to waste?

Astrid looked up from arranging the sliced potatoes in the glass dish. "Kersti Långstrump, can you set the table for dinner, please?"

"Ja, Mamma."

Dad walked around the corner and into the kitchen, depositing his empty coffee mug in the top rack of the dishwasher. "Smells lovely," he said, taking an appreciative whiff of the kanelbullar that were in the oven. "Having fun, Pippi?" he said to me. I nodded and went back to grating some carrots. "Do you remember when you went as Pippi Longstocking for Halloween?"

"Yeah, Dad. Multiple times."

Astrid smiled. "You made me read those books to you over and over again at bedtime."

"Nearly wore the book out, didn't you?" John added, leaning down to give her a peck on the cheek.

I smiled tensely, thinking about what I'd have to do soon. This was torture, seeing them so happy and recognizing myself as the bearer of ill fortune.

Astrid was watching me, her blue eyes concerned. "Kersti, are they feeding you properly at that school? You look so thin, much thinner than before."

"Yes, Mum, I've been eating," I said, not turning away from my task.

Magnus came barreling around the corner and dove into the fridge, looking for the jug of milk, which he raised to his lips and drank from directly when he thought Mum wasn't looking.

"Magnus! Nej!" she said crossly.

He drew the back of his hand across his mouth. "Sorry, not sorry, Mum."

"Make yourself useful and help your sister set the table," she said, shooing us both out of the kitchen and taking over the carrot-grating. I heard my parents talking about the logistics of finishing the Swedish food in time for Christmas dinner while Magnus and I set the table.

"Going to visit Matthhheewwww over the holidays?" he teased, directing snogging noises my way.

"Piss off." I wasn't about to tell any of my family that Matthew was actually my weed dealer who sent me the pink packages at Hogwarts, care of my parents. I'd told them a half-truth by saying that he was my boyfriend; I had slept with him several times, but we'd remained on speaking terms only because I'd found out about his weed-dealing habit.

"Does that woman-looking bloke know you're not single?"

I glared at Magnus. "I said, piss off."

He cackled. "So he doesn't know! We're going to come with you to the platform after the holidays and I'll personally tell him he's got an ice cube's chance in hell of dating you, since you're already 'in a committed relationship.'" He said this last part like some people said "troll bogies."

"No, you're not talking to Sirius."

"I'm going to embarrass you so much."

"Fuck off!"

"KERSTI! No swearing at your brother!" Astrid yelled from the kitchen. "And Magnus, stop pestering her."

I went back into the kitchen to tend to the kanelbullar and to start on the dammsugare, trying to relish these last fleeting moments with my family, even if my brother was being a royal pain in my arse. He was only teasing me because that was what younger brothers did, and I couldn't fault him for being his usual immature, goofy self. Perhaps one day I'd even miss his relentless teasing.

Finally, I was ready on Monday. I'd wiped my room clean of all traces of me and gone through hundreds of things in the house. I'd hardly slept or eaten since I'd left Hogwarts, and I'd been obsessively rereading my notes on memory charms, false memory charms, and legilimency. The closer that I came to obliviating them, the more I lamented the fact that I'd already seen a snapshot of what I would do to them in October. How could I have ever known how much my life would change even in two short months?

It was midday, and I'd just told my parents that I'd wanted them to meet me in the living room to tell them something important. As in the dream, I stood a few paces away, facing the couch. My dad smiled when he saw me, the crow's feet appearing in the corner of his eyes, and he sat down on the couch totally at ease. If he knew, he would be running for his life.

"Now what's this all about, Kersti? You sounded so serious," he said.

I swallowed and resisted the urge to start crying. "I just wanted to… tell you something, that's all." I felt like a mechanical, demented puppet, my strings being pulled high above by the powers that be, who also controlled my Seer dreams. Fate, my awful mistress, looked down at me and laughed at my despair.

Astrid walked down the stairs, Magnus in tow. She smiled too when she saw me. "Alright, Kersti Långstrump, we're here. What is it that you wanted to tell us?"

Magnus flopped down into the armchair and threw his legs over the arm like in the dream. He looked supremely reluctant to be here, and I couldn't blame him one bit. I would rather be anywhere but here.

"Magnus, how many times do I have to tell you not to sit like that?" Astrid chided.

He rolled his eyes and swung his legs down to put his feet on the floor like a well-behaved younger brother. "Hurry up, Kersti. I've got other things to do."

I couldn't blame any of them for this; I only blamed myself. If only I hadn't become a Seer, if only my abilities had never stirred from the depths of my magical subconscious. This would be all my fault, and I'd never forgive myself for what I was about to do. I'd taken plenty of photographs and packed them into my car to bring with me, but I wanted one last look at them in person, with all their flaws and expressions and idiosyncrasies. I stared from one to the other, every one of their features taking on a profound, tender significance to me in this moment of desperation and agony. My heart threw itself against my ribcage, like a prisoner rattling the bars of their cage in a futile attempt to break free.

"Kersti? Sweetheart, are you alright?" John asked, sitting forward on the couch.

I gripped my wand behind my back and withdrew it moments before I cast the spell. "Petrificus totalus," I choked out. My mother, father, and brother all froze, stiff as boards, limbs stuck and eyes wide open in a silent cry of vulnerability. Now, knowing that this was real life and that I'd chosen to do this, it was even worse than in the dream. But like I did in the dream, I forced myself to look them all in the eye. They were cognizant at the moment, and their insides must be roiling with fear as I stepped forward with my wand drawn. They had no idea what I could do to them, the extent of my magical abilities, and that unknown factor would terrify them while they still were conscious.

I went to my mother first, staring into her blue eyes as she remained helpless. I started crying silently, and perhaps this was the only way to show them that I was being torn up inside by this task. I thought through the steps of obliviating her very carefully, and started the arduous process of erasing her memories of me. Because of the magnitude of my task, and the existing memories that my relatives in Sweden and England had of my existence, I'd decided to wipe their memories of me from 1974 onwards. This way, when they had any contact with my other relatives whose memories I hadn't removed, they wouldn't be confused or disoriented when my grandparents asked after a daughter whom they didn't remember ever having. Also, this was where the false memory charm came in: I would give them all a new memory, which detailed that I'd died in a tragic car accident in the summer of 1974, before my fourth year at Hogwarts. To begin their new lives, I gave them a second one: that they had decided to move closer to my father's family in Leeds. Not only were they protected from the Death Eaters by their wiped memories, but they would also be farther away from the central hub of London and the Ministry of Magic, around which the attacks had been the most prevalent.

I knew what I was looking for. It didn't take me long for me to remove all the traces of the three-and-a-half years, and then I cauterized the gaping wound in the fabric of her memories with the insertion of the car accident. It plugged the hole, gave her an explanation to fall back on, gave them a tangible reason about why I was absent. At least this way, they'd known me for most of my life and could reflect when my other relatives asked after me at family reunions and vacations. But I couldn't ever forget this, not when her eyes stared back at me, bluer than a cloudless sky.

I moved on to my dad next, doing the same to him with no hitches in my plan. When I got to my brother, I was openly sobbing, and it was the only sound that echoed in what had once been our house. I felt perhaps the most guilty about Magnus, because I was forever altering his life at such an early stage, transplanting him before he could put down roots and establish himself firmly as an adult in Muggle Britain. What would his growth, his approach to adulthood, have looked like had I not had to do this, had this bloody war never arisen? If I had not become a Seer or been born a witch? I'd never seriously considered the possibility of having been born a Muggle, or even regretted my magical abilities, until now. Why couldn't I have been born an ordinary Muggle like them? But I mostly blamed the pureblood supremacists, and the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters for this, and rightfully so. This war was ruining- had already ruined- so many lives. And in even more subtle ways, the beliefs that were espoused by blood purists, the Dark Lord, and the Death Eaters had already damaged so many witches and wizards. Even now, I lamented for the easier life that Sirius could've had, free from such oppressive views, as well as others who'd suffered because of their opposing beliefs. This war of ideologies did nothing but cause anguish.

When I'd finished with Magnus, I switched tactics and took a moment to enter their minds as gently as I could, combing through layers of memories to make sure that I'd not forgotten a single trail of breadcrumbs leading to the truth. I was immensely grateful for my thorough research, because I'd done a flawless job. They didn't look any different as they lay frozen, but they seemed to have taken on a distant, cold air to me. I walked out of their view, and when I was standing behind them, I removed their most recent memories of watching me use magic on them while they'd been petrified. They stayed unmoving, and now all traces of me were well and truly gone. Inching towards the door, I whispered reparifors and, with a final glance at their slowly stirring forms, I soundlessly left, padded across the path, and crossed the street.

I waited in my car for several hours after that. I'd cast a disillusionment charm on my little Volvo- a gift from my parents on my sixteenth birthday- so that I blended in perfectly with my suburban surroundings. I'd even debated getting rid of my car, but reckoned that I could use the remainder of my Muggle money to pay for it to sit in storage while I finished school. After all, I'd make good use of it as soon as I graduated from Hogwarts and was out on my own, alone and roving the world like a restless beast of grief. I was being selfish too, because I wanted this tangible proof of my family left in my life.

I was more worried than I'd initially thought about my relatives asking after me, and there being inconsistencies between their memories of me visiting Sweden when I was sixteen, and my family's insistence that I'd died two years before that. I would have a ridiculous amount of free time on my hands after I finished at Hogwarts, since I would have no one to see, nowhere to go, and no one to care for, and so I'd travel to my father's family in Leeds and my mother's family in Enköping to obliviate them as well. Now, as I sat in my car and stared at my former house, the odd silhouette of a family member passing behind the curtain like a ghost, the realization that I'd be effectively homeless after graduation set in. If the future I'd seen where I was with Sirius and was friends with Lily and James were true, where would I be after leaving Hogwarts?

I didn't stay for more than a few hours, lingering in my car and watching the house from the street. My disillusionment charm would wear off and I couldn't have them or anyone else seeing me. With a last, lingering glance at their house which would soon go on the market in preparation for their move, I shifted gears and pulled away from the curb. I would stay in London until January second, when the Hogwarts Express would leave for school. I'd also find a long-term parking spot for my car (with the disillusionment charm and protective spells cast on it to prevent anyone from breaking in), which held a few clothes and other Muggle things, including the photos of my family. What I'd do in London for a fortnight by myself was unclear, but I'd find some way to amuse myself. I didn't want to stay in The Leaky Cauldron because of the risk of running into Death Eaters, other Hogwarts students, or any wizards and witches in general, so I'd booked a stay at a small, out-of-the-way Muggle hotel.

As I drove to London from Reading, I realized that the events of that day hadn't sunk in. I was in shock, and the grief hadn't yet crushed me in its talons to drop me into its waiting maw, already salivating in anticipation of swallowing me whole. The silence in the car as I drove was deafening, and during that hour-long drive, all I could think about was Sirius. Where was he? What was he doing? How much fun was he having with James at his house? Was he missing me like he'd said that he would? Or had that been a drunk confession said on whim because he'd pitied me? I was so unbearably lonely, and in my desperation, I imagined him sitting in the passenger seat as I drove us both onwards. If he were here with me right now, what would he do? What would he say? He would comfort me with his presence alone, and cheer me up even though I felt like I was losing myself in my sadness and loneliness. I joined with the other cars on the main artery bound for London, and if Sirius were in the car, he'd tease and joke with me. Maybe I'd even tell him about what I'd done. If I did, I knew that he'd get me in the way that only he could. Hopefully he'd tell me that he understood why I'd done it. Would he comfort me? Would I ever be so lucky as to become that close to him? Would I come to know everything about him?

As I drove, I realized that I was irrevocably and totally buggered. I hopelessly fancied Sirius Black, the heartthrob of Hogwarts, which could very well end in him smashing my heart to smithereens. But the danger of him breaking my heart was not enough, because I was set on wanting him. What did I expect? How could I have fallen this hard for anyone else but him? I wanted him, I wanted all of him, and I didn't want anyone else. The mere thought of anyone else having him made me so angry and nervous that my hands shook and I felt physically ill, my stomach writhing like a pit of snakes. I tried to push away my thoughts, to drown them out by blasting the car radio, but it was hopeless. I desperately fancied Sirius, and he would haunt my every thought for the next fortnight.