Chapter 7: Memories

There was little wind by the lake, only a slight breeze just moving the air enough that it would not feel heavy. It was too early in the year for snow but it was to late for the sun to create much heat. It was the ideal weather in Medea's opinion but today she hardly seemed to notice it. She left the Infirmary only because of her instinct to choose a blue sky over than a stone ceiling. She felt better after a night's rest but knew that she was still as weak as a kitten. Water, a substance that usually scared her and was avoided as much as possible, seemed attractive, as though a connection to something lost, so she sat so close to the lake that the little waves almost washed over her feet. A forgotten drawing was on her lap. She had drawn it without thinking and was almost surprised by the result. It bought back a wave of memories, some sweet and some painful, all as vivid as though they were truly alive in the air around her.

There was laughter. A boy, about four years old had jumped into the water to be greeted by schools of fish. On the shore a baby girl was inching carefully towards the water but drew back sharply whenever a wave hit her.

With the wave of her memory, a real wave hit Medea and she gasped at the cold wetness. The image changed. Now she saw trees--the edge of the forest near her home. "You'll never catch me!" a childish voice called as a small girl ran into view, her black braids flapping behind her as she ran and giggled. "We'll see about that!" said the boy, the same one from her old vision, who was chasing her. Their likeness was striking; the same black hair and round eyes. The girl tripped and fell but before she started crying she was pulled into a hug. "I told you I'd catch you!" The tears disappeared and Medea laughed with the girl as she straggled to get away from he brothers arms and start another game.

The image shifted again. They were in a skating rink, racing. Now they were much older. This memory was from the year before. The scene was so familiar that Medea could almost feel the ice. They both loved skating but he was much faster. It was no surprise. He trained as a speed skater whereas her passion was for art. Whenever he would get too much ahead she would laugh and practice one of her jumps. Usually he would turn and cheer if she landed perfectly, but this time she fell and he was not there to see if she needed help getting up. On the other side of the rink was another figure, a tall young lady, his age exactly. She was the girl he had just proposed to the week before. He did not notice Medea's twisted ankle or how she limped in pain. By the time he his lips parted from he's love's, Medea had already disappeared.

Medea sucked her breath in with pain. It was the first time her brother had not been there for her when she was in pain. But that was not the last painful memory. Next she saw their wedding. She heard Hector and Sassafras proclaimed husband and wife, and once again she was hit with a feeling of loss. Her pained expression matched the one she had worn when her second brother, Castor, had confronted her. "You are selfish," his words echoed through her mind, "You can't bare to see him happy because you think that he will forget you exist. Well let me tell you this, little sister, you cannot expect him to live his life so it will suit you alone. You have to grow up and realize that he still loves you just as much and you'll always be his baby sister." It did not help when her best friend approached her and exclaimed gleefully "Now we're officially related!" To Medea they had always been related but now her older brother, who had always allowed her to tag along, had put a barrier between his life and hers.

Fresh tears ran down Medea's cheeks. Her brother would never be the same. He had proved it when he had returned home from his honeymoon. Medea had heard his footsteps as he entered the house and went running down the stairs to great him. This month was the longest time they had been separated in their lives and she had missed him dearly. He hugged her as strongly as before but something was wrong. Almost before he released Medea his arms were wrapped around his new wife's waist as though he would never let her go. That was when Medea fled feeling that Hector barely noticed her go.

Medea heard footsteps. She was pulled out of her thoughts. Harry was walking up to her. She noticed the drawing on her lap and tearing it in two she flung it aside. She did not want it to be seen. Harry sat down silently and stared at the lake. Medea did not say anything but concentrated on hiding her sadness. Harry had enough troubles and surely was not the person to deal with hers. She decided to let him be the first to speak. He threw a pebble into the water and watched the ripples. After a while he asked quietly, "why did you come?"

"I don't know." It was the truth; she did not know why she was there, only that she left home.

"It can't be a coincidence that you arrived yesterday with everything else!" He almost shouted and threw another stone, this time harder. "Do you work for him?"

Medea shook her head and smiled weakly. "I'm not involved."

Harry sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest. Leaning his cheek on one knee his said, "I wish I wasn't involved. I wish he didn't exist and everything was happy." The wind was picking up. A slight breeze caught Medea's hat and sent it flying to the middle of the lake. "What do you want?" Harry asked softly.

"Well right now I wish I had my hat." Medea laughed lightly, "I will never find another one that would match my dress so perfectly." Harry looked stunned for a second and then laughed.

"You remind me of Dumbledore," he said, "He once told me something like that, only with socks."

"Oh I'm more different from Dumbledore than you think." She stood up and held out a hand for Harry. "Come on. You promised to teach me to play Quidditch."

From across the grounds they both saw Ginny walking towards them talking to Dean. Medea waved and started walking away from them in the direction of the Quidditch Pitch. Harry narrowed his eyes a little and watched them approach then turned sharply and followed Medea.

Ginny saw them and waved but did not want to follow. It did not seem right to her. A bit of white in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She bent down to pick up the two fluttering pieces of paper and held them together. The seam where they were torn melted away like a healing wound. It was a drawing of Medea and Hector. He was sitting on a couch and she was sitting on the armrest. Ginny smiled and wished she knew the joke that caused the two of them to throw their heads back in such joyous laughter.