Chapter 18 – Halloween
Lizzie remembered Halloween growing up. Dudley would be beside himself if he didn't have at least a year's worth of sweets to indulge on. But it wasn't something celebrated in their home.
Petunia went grim on Halloween and Lizzie didn't understand why until now. She was on edge and locked the windows and doors in a thinly veiled paranoia Lizzie caught onto as she grew older. Now that she knew it was the anniversary of her parents' murder it all seemed to make more sense. Lizzie often had dreams of walking through fall foliage as a little girl dragging a stick and calling for her parents. The dreams were short and ended in bright flashes.
Halloween night five years back was the first time she remembered seeing a blood stain on a loose kitchen floorboard. She pulled it up out of curiosity only to find a severed hand and forearm. The blood curdling scream from her small lungs was met with a trip to the bathroom, but Lizzie couldn't stop screaming because she thought she was going to be cut into a bunch of pieces. Vernon resorted pushing her head under a bath he'd run while sedatives took effect. The brief glimpse she got of the tub's surface before she fell unconscious was of her tiny self floating face down and lifeless, and then nothing.
Another year, she opened her eyes to a pair of lifeless ones staring back just a couple inches away from her face. The faint outline in the dark was a woman and disappeared after a hard blink before Lizzie ever made out who she was.
The echo of a song she couldn't make out always came to mind ever so slightly more clearly on Halloween. The more she thought about it, the more she felt inclined to say it was the song she remembered in Creswell's car, but couldn't say with certainty.
Another year, she swore she saw herself by the front gate of the house, something Petunia had locked. Then again at the back gate to the alley while the family ate dinner, and just outside the kitchen window while she did the dishes. They were identical in all but the eyes. Lizzie's green eyes often looked bereft, but this girl's eyes were dead... if they were once green like hers, you'd never be able to tell.
Lizzie laid in bed the night before Halloween wondering what exactly happened. He found them, broke in no doubt, and then killed them. How long was I there? She thought. Did I try to wake them? Was I unconscious? Who found me? The questions ran like wildfire through her brain. The most she could piece together was the song, someone coming up the gate being spotted through the window, and then flashes.
That night, Lizzie had a very different dream. It was about Sunday mass, but Quirrell oddly administered communion. The turban was whispering and coiled around into what looked to be a snake.
"They're going to kill you if you let them," he said. His face became Father Matthew and then her uncle, she looked back at the congregation and they all had white eyes. "They're going to destroy you," an unfamiliar voice whispered in her ear. "But that will be your fault," it said pervasively. Figures that appeared to be her parents hung from the banister where Melody once did, and Melody stood at the top above them. "You deserve worse," she said down to Lizzie with hate in her eyes.
She screamed and jolted awake in the dormitory. Hermione turned on a bed lamp and frowned over at her concerned. "Are you alright?" She asked nervously. Lizzie didn't say anything. "The dog has given me nightmares, is that it?" she added.
Lizzie was clammy and sweaty, and it suddenly dawned on Hermione. "No that's not it, is it?" Hermione asked. Lizzie shook her head in the dim light and wiped her wet face with the corner of the sheet.
Lizzie skipped breakfast and waited until everyone headed off for class so she could walk alone. Everyone knew, it was a glorious day for them all. End of the war, she thought. Wonder how many firework lights lit up their lifeless faces... it was an intrusive thought she was ashamed of but didn't think it was something to celebrate. They got nine years of peace and I didn't, she thought bitterly, and it was like a needle in her heart. She resigned to think she was especially cynical because she was heading to Potions. Snape gave her a long and considering look she tried not make eye contact with. Was like he was reading her mind for what she was thinking.
"Potter looks pale. Think she remembers?" Lizzie overheard Pansy say to Draco. He looked over Lizzie with a once over a shook his head with a snigger.
"Azalea, Happy Halloween," Pansy called over to her with an evil grin. Snape cast a look between Pansy and Lizzie, the classroom was silent while Lizzie ignored her and pulled out her quill to take notes.
"Who died first? Or did they wipe your memory?" Pansy asked. It sounded like nobody was breathing in anticipation for Lizzie's response. She didn't say anything, her jaw was clenched too hard.
"Grateful for your sacrifice, weren't they? Does it bother you that you got dumped like trash with muggles?" Pansy sneered.
"Quiet..." Snape said slowly.
Ron nudged Lizzie to get her attention, but she wouldn't look at or speak to anyone through the lesson.
Lizzie was both first and last to leave Potions. Initially, she planned to slip out before anyone could catch up but spun on her heels when she realized she left her note journal on the stool.
This forgetfulness aggravated her, especially when it meant an uncomfortable interaction. Lizzie picked up the journal and turned to leave when the sound of a cleared throat made her pause. "Potter," she heard Snape say shortly.
"I just left my notes, I'm leaving," she assured hurriedly.
"No, you're not," he said, and she froze. He stood up and headed over, handing her a cloth. She frowned at it before tilting her head forward and noticing blood pooling under her nose.
"You didn't realize?" He asked condescendingly. Lizzie shook her head dismissively.
"Do I get detention for a nosebleed, or can I go?" She said bitterly having lost her sense care about niceties. He frowned back at her.
"No, but perhaps for insolence," he jabbed.
"It's just the weather," she mumbled to explain the bleeding. He wasn't convinced. The eyes, something about her eyes, they looked shot. Lizzie knew this happened when she clenched her jaw too long and hard, when her heart rate picked up with pent up anger she'd never once in her life had an outlet to release it on, and when her body shook under her skin and out of her control like the low rumble of a volcano about to spill or explode. Something about now knowing the day her parents died, knowing it was widely celebrated, and that people who enjoyed nine years of peace at her expense had the nerve to point out she was dumped like trash after, had all sunk deep into her bones.
"Take this," he offered a vile. "For anxiety, it's written on your face. Interesting you have post-traumatic stress over something you claim not to remember," he said suspiciously.
"Feelings outlive memories. I'm not anxious," she retorted.
"You're angry..." he said with a subtle smirk just in his eyes.
"Clearly fame isn't everything...is it, professor?" She asked disdainfully. He glared at her, contemplating taking points, but she scowled subtly and left before he said anything else.
Charms class went better, Flitwick paired Lizzie with Seamus instead of Lisa, and Ron with Hermione. They were practicing levitation charms.
Lizzie had cleared her throat to practice the enchantment when Seamus blew up their feathers. Hermione managed to raise hers in the air on the first try after lecturing Ron relentlessly about his technique. On the way out after class to dinner, Lizzie caught up to Ron and the boys and caught the tail end of a conversation about Hermione.
"It's Levi-O-sa, not Levio-SA, what a nightmare, no wonder she doesn't have friends," Ron complained shamelessly. The condescending tone surprised her coming from him and her heart skipped when she saw Hermione walk by and bump him harshly on the shoulder in passing.
"I think she heard you," Seamus said.
"Lizzie, where are you going?" Ron asked as she ran ahead after her. Lizzie turned around to shoot him a reproachful look. She caught a tiny glimpse of remorse in his eyes but followed Hermione down the corridor toward the girl's bathroom.
"Hermione?" Lizzie asked, pushing open the door as Parvati Patil was leaving. Hermione had already slammed the door on the middle stall. Lizzie leaned against the door of it. "I know you're not using the loo," Lizzie said.
"Just go," Hermione said reproachfully.
"Hermione, he didn't mean -" Lizzie started to say.
"Yeah, how would you know?" Hermione jabbed.
"I don't... but he's trying to win points with his boy posse... I'm sure he's sorry," Lizzie pled.
"He's right though," she said pitifully.
"No, he isn't..." Lizzie said reassuringly.
"Name one person who actually likes me," Hermione said, now wiping tears pooling under her eyes. "You... with the fame, everybody wants you in their corner," she said.
"That's not true..." Lizzie said, "they just think they know me, think I'm a status boost, an asset. I'm not. If anyone was the most spot on about me, it was Pansy Parkinson this morning. Couldn't even say anything because she's not wrong," Lizzie said. "...and I like you, to hell with the rest of them if they don't... I could hit him for that, do you want me to?" she added.
"Don't try to be nice for my sake..." Hermione said.
"Hermione, if anyone is going to understand, it's me. I think you're brilliant. I also think you're a little much sometimes if we're being totally honest, but I like that about you..." Lizzie said after a drawn-out exhale.
"Look, I'm not trying to be nice. Catholic school doesn't spit out nice girls... they break you until you're pious and the ones who don't get there end up jaded, mean, or a little of both like me..." Lizzie explained. "If I didn't like you, I wouldn't try to be nice, nor would I be here trying to convince you not to hide in the bathroom because somebody was a jerk... don't waste your life hiding... please trust me on that..." Lizzie pled. Hermione was silent in the stall.
"If he doesn't apologize, I played tennis... so I have a really mean backhand," Lizzie said with a facetious grin Hermione could see just from the tone of her voice. Lizzie heard the slightest snort of approval.
"We can line him and Pansy up and then jinx them, I'm not above that..." Lizzie added and they both giggled girlishly.
Lizzie heard a labored breathing from behind her and felt the hair stand up on her neck. She turned around slowly and lost the air in her body. What the fuck is that? She thought. It was at least fifteen feet tall, outrageously fat and wide, looked like an ogre of sorts and carried a large club.
"Hermione," she whispered with a broken breath. "Hermione, we need to get out of here..." Lizzie's body was in shock and couldn't move, but she heart the stall click open and Hermione looked up in terror.
"It's a troll," she squeaked. The troll got wildly upset by the second human presence having already looked like he was going to squash Lizzie with a fist to begin with.
His club swung high, and Lizzie yanked Hermione's robe as they lunged toward the sinks. It gave a loud unintelligible groan of displeasure and swung the club down on the ceramic sink basins they were crouched under. The water spurt from the busted pipe panged Lizzie in the eyes. "MOVE!" they heard someone yell and Hermione pulled Lizzie's arm to the left when more shattering could be heard from the troll's raging assault.
Lizzie wiped the water from her eyes and looked up at Ron sliding into view. He gestured with his arm for them to come toward the door but as they made a shot toward it, the troll snatched Lizzie's leg and hung her several feet off the ground. It swung the club at her head as she curled her body up to grab her feet.
"Please do something!" Lizzie screamed; her wand had fallen out of her robe.
"Levitate the club!" Hermione yelled at Ron who had his wand pointed dubiously.
"Wingardium Leviosa" he yelled, and the club stayed in the air as the troll swung a fist that hit Lizzie hard in the side. The club came down on the troll's head seconds later and it dropped Lizzie hard to the ground. Hermione ran forward to pull her away from its impending collapse, and they all froze in shock when it hit the ground hard and unconscious in front of them.
"Pardon my French, but WHAT THE FUCK!?" Lizzie yelled indignantly, but whipped her head around in horror when McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore, and Quirrell ran in after the commotion.
"Explain yourselves!" McGonagall yelled, flushed white in terror.
"When we were alerted just into dinner there was a troll loose, Lizzie and Hermione weren't there... Parvati said they were in the bathroom last she saw so I tried to head them off while Percy led everyone to the common room...to let them know..." Ron said, still gaping at the troll.
Lizzie was still sitting on the floor, propped up on her arms and grabbed her side in pain. "Potter, are you alright?" McGonagall asked.
"No, it bloody punched me," she winced and felt and arm help her to her feet. She looked up at Snape's piercing stare.
"Is anything broken?" McGonagall asked. Lizzie gestured sarcastically to the entire demolished bathroom.
"No, you, Potter..." McGonagall said with an eye roll.
"Yes, any sense I had of basic security; how did a troll get in? Are they all that stupid?" She asked incredulously, not caring about present company. Dumbledore chuckled slightly and was met with a reproving glare from McGonagall.
"How is a good question. I don't know how first year students took on a fully grown one and lived. Dumb luck I imagine," McGonagall said in an exasperated tone.
"Ron... it was Ron... he didn't let it in obviously, but he knocked it out," Lizzie said.
"I'll escort you to the hospital wing, honey, Miss Granger, you as well," McGonagall said pointing to a cut on Hermione's face from the broken glass. "Mr. Weasley, I'll award Gryffindor fifteen points. That was rather foolish, but also noble and brave to want to warn your friends and stick around to make sure they weren't more hurt," she commended. Ron smiled weakly and Snape glared. Lizzie didn't notice Quirrell's stare at first but on her way past him she had an odd sense of dread wash over her she couldn't place, like radiated anger and frustration. She caught eyes with Dumbledore as well and there was a sparkle of admiration to his that she couldn't quite place either.
"I think he was sorry, don't you?" Lizzie whispered to Hermione as they followed McGonagall to see Madam Pomphrey. Hermione laughed a little in post-traumatic exasperation. "Jinxing might be harsh... but a backhand I can still do if you insist," Lizzie added and they laughed harder. McGonagall gave them a reproving look over her shoulder and they shut up immediately in unison.
"Poppy, this is Hermione Granger and Azalea Potter," McGonagall said. "Survived a troll attack..." she added looking at them both over her glasses intensely.
"Heavens! Are they daft? I don't have a fix for daftness," Pomphrey said. Lizzie chuckled and Hermione nudged her looking offended.
"Wrong place at the wrong time. Check Potter here for broken bones and Miss Granger has some cuts, lucky to be alive... please go back to Gryffindor tower after this," McGonagall instructed.
Pomphrey fixed a hairline crack in Lizzie's rib almost instantly, and the minor cuts on Hermione disappeared even quicker. "Potter, I'll tell you what I tell all my first years, I don't want to see you here again," she lectured.
"You can call me Lizzie," Lizzie smiled. "Thank you though, I'll do my best," she added, and Poppy smirked back at her.
"Your dad and his friends were here constantly. Imbeciles they were, but always kept my candy supply stocked with tokens of gratitude. You look just like your mum who only ever showed up for the flu, I guess we'll see..." she said with a subtle wink and sent them on their way.
On the way back to Gryffindor Tower Lizzie was quiet. "You alright?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah. I just really wish I remembered them...even if it meant remembering what happened. Feeling sort of robbed," Lizzie admitted.
Hermione grabbed her hand and squeezed apologetically. "Thanks," she said.
"For what?" Lizzie asked.
"For being a good friend," Hermione said. Lizzie smiled back and squeezed her hand in return.
Lizzie stopped momentarily when she looked ahead of herself down the corridor at a dangling body from a stone banister. She immediately knew only she saw it. The girl was small and wearing a blue vest pullover with a collar protruding from the neck from a white short-sleeved polo and a pleated black skirt. Embroidered on the vest was a cross with half a heart and sword on a shield emblem over where her heart would be. A gold cross necklace hung down to the top of her stomach. Her arms were mostly bare under the short sleeves of the polo and hung limp at her sides. Strawberry blonde curls, but blonder than strawberry, hung over her the front of her face and past her shoulders under a head that fell at an impossible and unnatural angle.
"I'm sorry," Lizzie whispered under her breath as chills hijacked her body. Hermione had continued walking forward. "I'm so sorry," she breathed again and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Melody was gone, and the new reality sunk in harshly. A portrait to her left coughed to break her daze. The look the oil painted portrait gave her looked so apologetic Lizzie wondered if they saw it too.
"Azalea," she heard an older man's voice say from behind her. Lizzie turned around to see Albus Dumbledore coming toward her.
"Good evening, professor," she said politely, unsure of how to address the headmaster.
"Do you mind if I call you Lizzie?" He asked.
"Not at all, prefer it actually," she admitted.
"I've been hoping to talk to you," he admitted. Lizzie stared. "Your professors are impressed by your adaptability and aptitude thus far," he explained. "I have to say, I was expecting a more troubled spirit when you arrived if we're being honest," he added.
"I'm sorry?" Lizzie asked, confused. Dumbledore flicked his wand and summoned a packet of papers she recognized as the enrollment paperwork to St. Catherine's. Her face washed over in understanding. "I know I must seem like bad apple according to that, a completely useless, demented bad apple, but I wouldn't take my uncle's word for any of it..." she said defensively.
Dumbledore put up his hand. "Relax dear girl, I do not think you are a bad apple, I am merely concerned is all," he reassured. Her face relaxed a little.
"Your file at the ministry has always been a little troublesome as well," he added.
"Do they spy?" Lizzie asked curiously. "What is the trace?" She asked.
"They do not spy, they are alerted when magic is used and you had one of the most active files," he explained. He noticed Lizzie's calculating expression.
"Is there something you'd like to tell or ask me?" He asked. Lizzie's eyes grew small for a moment when she looked up at him.
"The night Hagrid picked me up, he said he found the place from the trace… what did I do? I don't remember what happened..." She asked. Dumbledore exhaled.
"You stole yourself," he said, and Lizzie undoubtedly didn't understand.
"You have heard the saying fight or flight, I would imagine?" He asked. Lizzie nodded.
"Flight can mean a great deal of things… one does not always need to be a bird with wings," he continued. Lizzie held her breath at this sentiment wondering how he knew her prayers.
"You, on many occasions, stole yourself. You probably have no memory of doing so or where you went, because our minds have no points of reference to anything but our present surroundings or ones we've experienced t some degree. Sort of like entering a void," he explained. "It's not something many can accomplish, but you became rather a master at doing so."
Lizzie flushed white and swallowed back the implications. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at the eyes behind the spectacles staring back.
"I hope you have found some peace and belonging. You deserve that above anyone else I can think of," he said cryptically. "Your parents loved you more than life, Lizzie, in time I hope you realize just how much," he added. She looked back over her shoulder at the Melody again, unsure if that would ever heal in time.
It's amazing, Mel, it's all incredible, but I don't deserve it...one day I promise I'll tell you all about it... she thought, rubbing a pair of very glassy eyes back into life. She bid the headmaster a good evening and continued walking back to Gryffindor Tower through a thick and unbearable haze of melancholy.