New York, 1996
Jasmine held a hand to her forehead to block out the sun glinting off the skyscrapers around her and looked up. It was the fifth time that day that she had seen birds swooping by her apartment. She sighed when she couldn't spot it and went back to sorting her supplies. She was packing for her annual trip to some foreign country and their medical seminar.
Glancing at the brochure on the desk next to her, she recalled that this year's seminar was in London. Vaguely, she recalled having been to London before. She knew she had a British accent, so she knew that she was probably from somewhere in England. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't remember. Fifteen years ago, she'd been wandering around England with a pocketful of money and no memory of who she was.
Discovering the habit of labeling her clothes with her name had told her that she was Jasmine Potter, but not much else. She had wandered about for a while until she'd come across a family of Americans vacationing in England, who wanted something of an au pair for their three children for a few months in New York. Eagerly, Jasmine took the job, hoping she'd remember something about who she was.
That was fifteen years ago, and she was nearing her thirty-sixth birthday. She had only fifteen years of memories, with a few vague names and faces and flashes of memory from the nineteen years before her sudden awakening in London. She was a registered and trained nurse, traveling during summers, working at the local high school as the school nurse during the rest of the year, occasionally volunteering at the nearest hospital on weekends.
The phone rang. Absently, she picked it up. "Jazz," she said by way of greeting.
"Hey, babe," said the voice of her boyfriend, Taj. "I was wondering if you still want me to take you to the airport?" She grinned, knowing he was trying to get out of it. She blinked suddenly as a mental picture asserted itself in front of her eyes and she felt ice trickle down her spine. "Babe?"
"Uh…no, um, no, Taj, that's fine. I can get a cab." She blinked away the picture of her most recent boyfriend with another woman and sighed. "I'll talk to you later."
"Thanks, babe. I'll see you when you get back." He hung up and she stared at the phone in her hand before she set it down. It was getting to be a pattern, she was noticing. Every single one of the relationships she'd had in the past fifteen years, from the time she was nineteen until now, had ended because she'd had some sort of paranoid delusion that her boyfriend was sleeping around while she was gone. It didn't help that every single one of those visions turned out to be true. She sighed and rubbed her forehead.
The sooner she got out of New York, the happier she'd be. She returned to her inventory and spent the next four hours packing everything she'd need for her trip. Picking up her phone as she pulled on her shoes, she dialed the front desk.
"Yes, Miss Potter?"
"Hey, Jeremy. Could I get a cab to the airport, please?"
"Of course. Should I send someone for your luggage?" The old doorman had taken quite a shine to her, which made her smile.
"Thanks, but no. I'm traveling light this time, and I think I can handle it."
"Your cab will be here shortly, miss."
She grinned as she hung up and looked around, in case she'd forgotten something vital. Seeing noting she couldn't live without for the next two months, she left the apartment and locked the door behind her, pocketing the key and heading down the hall towards the elevator.
Arriving in the lobby, she waved off Jeremy's attempts to help her with her suitcase and smiled when he opened the door of the cab for her, heaving her suitcase onto the seat next to her. "You call this light?" he teased. True, her suitcase was a lot heavier than it looked, something she couldn't quite get over. She could pack more in a smaller suitcase than anyone she knew in a larger one. "See you in a few months, Miss Potter."
"Jeremy, I've told you, call me Jasmine!" She waved out the window as the cabbie pulled out into traffic. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes for the half hour ride to JFK. The cab pulled into passenger unloading and Jasmine tried to hand him money, but he grinned. "He paid you already, didn't he?" She shook her head, amused, and handed him a ten dollar bill for a tip, and then got out, dragging her small bag with her.
Checking in was never a problem for her because she never checked her bag. This time, however, he'd packed a little too much. It turned out to be about an inch too big.
Sighing, she checked it and received her claim check. "Have a nice flight, Miss Potter," the sales clerk chirped, already looking past her at the next person in line. Jasmine bristled but left, heading to a bookshop so she could buy something to keep her busy on the eight hour flight overseas.
She left, amid the stammered thanks of the shop clerk, with a heavy canvas bag full of books and snacks of her own. She hid a smile. Teenagers always seemed to take to her. Even at thirty-six, she was still almost the same as she'd been at nineteen, if a little taller and with a few more wrinkles. She shouldered the bag easily and went to her gate to await the boarding of her plane, pulling out a first edition of The Lord of the Rings. She loved books about magic; she didn't quite know why she still harbored an almost obsessive liking for them, after so many years.
She didn't read long, however, as the boarding call soon went out. She marked her page and boarded when she was called, settling quickly into her seat with her new bag on the floor between her feet.
"Hello," said a quiet, polite voice above her. She looked up and offered a friendly smile to the man standing there. "I think that's my seat." He pointed to the window seat on her other side apologetically. She smiled and moved her legs to one side so he could slip past. She'd noticed his British accent. "Vacationing in London, or do you live there?" he asked conversationally, once he was settled in.
"I'm actually vacationing there, though I think I may have once lived there." "You think?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. She ducked her head to hide a smile; she was used to people asking that.
"I don't remember anything before Halloween in 1981," she explained. "I was nineteen then, I think."
"Fifteen years without memories! That's the most extreme case of amnesia I've ever heard of!"
"I know. But some people never regain their memories," she pointed out. "I have a few snatches of my life before, if I strain. The only reason I know my own name is because I have this habit of buying clothes and writing my name on them. Don't know why I have the habit, but I'm grateful that I do." He nodded thoughtfully.
"My name is Andrew Prewett," he said, offering a hand for her to shake.
"Jasmine Potter," she replied. "It's nice to meet you."
"And you," he said. They quickly turned to their own amusements as the plane lifted off, and Andrew fell asleep shortly thereafter. Flying east made the sun sink faster, and soon Jasmine was turning on the light above, hoping not to disturb her neighbor, who seemed to be dead.
"Can I offer you something to drink, ma'am?" Jasmine looked up and smiled. "Do you have hot tea?" Even after fifteen years, she still had a craving for hot tea in the late afternoon, early evening. The attendant smiled and left to find some way of making her a cup of tea. He returned a few moments later with a steaming mug. "Thank you so much," she said, honestly grateful that he'd made her some. He nodded, smiled politely and moved on.
She sipped until it was gone and glanced at her watch. The flight was plenty long and she decided to take her cue from Andrew and take a nap. She snapped off the light and pulled her sweater over her arms, leaning back her seat. Closing her eyes, she drifted off almost immediately.
The boy ran his hands through his messy black hair, glancing sideways around the lake at the pretty redhead surrounded by all her friends. Lily Evans, the one girl in school, besides Jazz, who could resist James Potter's charms. He sighed and tore his eyes away from Lily to look at Jazz, who was grinning at him.
"I'm bored," Sirius sighed. "Exams are over and now we have nothing to do." "Remus seems to be occupied," Jazz pointed out, straightening from her tailor seat on the grass. "And I think I'll take my leave of you four now." She smiled and stretched. "It's far too nice a day to be sitting around thinking of ways to entertain him, what with his seconds-long attention span." Twiddling her fingers at her brother and his friends, she headed off towards Molly Prewett and Arthur Weasley, who were sitting on the edge of the lake with their feet dangling in, throwing stones at the third and fourth years swimming in the cool water.
Andrew shook her shoulder gently and she mumbled, sitting up. "I don't think even you would like to be left sleeping on a plane when you can sleep in a bed." Jasmine nodded and shook her head to clear it of the dream…or was it a memory? She picked up her bag and sweater and stood. Andrew filed out of the plane behind her and stopped her suddenly with a hand on her arm. He handed her a small card. "If you need anything, give me a ring," he said, then loped away. Jasmine looked down at the business card and put it in her pocket, heading towards the car rentals, forgetting, for the moment, that she had checked a bag.
An hour later, red-faced and angry, she stood in front of customer service, her bag lost somewhere. "Fill out this form with contact information and we'll send your bag to you," the girl behind the counter said lazily, snapping her gum after ever few words. Jasmine glared at her and when the next bubble came, it burst and splattered all over the girl's face. She toppled off her chair with a squeak. Jasmine filled out the form and shoved it back at her, growling under her breath as she left.
"Now what am I supposed to do?" she wondered aloud. Leaving the airport, she caught a cab to into the city.
"Where to, miss?"
"Anywhere I can get a drink," she murmured. The cabbie grinned and drove in silence for a while, finally stopping on a darkened street. "Thanks," she said, getting out and digging the fare from her wallet. He thanked her and drove off. She headed towards the pub he'd dropped her off at, but something caught her eyes across the street. A tiny, grimy pub was situated in between a gleaming bookstore and a large clothiers. "Odd place for such a dingy pub," she said, slightly intrigued. Crossing the street, she put a hand on the door. A tingle went through her as she pushed the door open.
Silence fell as she entered the one-room bar and she looked about her in fascination. "Something we can help you with, miss?" an old, toothless man asked gingerly, coming around from behind the bar. She sensed wariness in everyone present.
"I need a drink," she said clearly. "A strong one." The man nodded, tension leaving his shoulders, but not entirely. He poured her something and shuffled over to hand it to her. She sniffed warily and then shrugged, tossing it down. Only years of self-control kept her from screaming as the fire hit her throat. She managed to swallow and keep the tears of pain from her eyes. "And now a glass of water and maybe some tea," she rasped, crossing to a table and sitting. The bartender shook his head and went to get her what she'd ordered. He placed it in front of her and she thanked him with a smile.
The door opened again, letting in streetlight, and closed quickly. "Hoy, Tom! The usual, it'll be!" The giant stepped into the light and Jasmine dropped her teacup with a gasp. The tinkling sound of shattering china turned heads. "Here now, who's this?"
"I…I know you!" she whispered instead, face paper-white.
"Everyone knows me!" he boasted. "I'm Rubeus…"
"Hagrid," she finished with him. "I know you, but I don't!"
"Who might you be, missie?"
"Ja-Jasmine Potter," she said slowly. The reaction was instantaneous and intense. Hagrid choked and bent down to peer in her face. The silence of the pub became oppressive as everyone turned to look at her intently.
"You're dead," Hagrid finally managed.