Chapter 14: A Memory of Rain

Selected Listening: Cloudy- Simon and Garfunkle

Anastasia woke in the hospital wing that afternoon, her friends surrounding her. Harry had woken too and was sitting in the cot on her left, staring blankly. She attempted to upright herself. Her body cried out in pain, aching from her left shoulder through her spine all the way to her tail bone.

"Woah woah woah—" Fred and George steadied her and helped her adjust the pillows so she could sit. Hermione winced watching her. Ron, who was sitting on Harry's other side, stared in concern. Even Lee hung around, standing at the end of her cot.

"Be careful there, speedster," George warned with a laugh in his tone.

"You broke five vertebrae, your left shoulder, and your tailbone," Fred explained with kind stare. "Madam Pomfrey healed them, but she says you'll be sore for a while."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a blonde boy flee the hospital wing from behind a privacy curtain without saying anything.

"Did we win at least?" she asked. Their saddened faces answered that question.

She listened as they explained the dementor attack. Blips of her visions came back to her: the Malfoys fighting, Draco's asthma attack, the terrified face of Professor Flitwick.

"And then Dumbledore apparated down on the field!" Lee shouted as if he were still announcing the game. "And he cursed out the dementors and cast this huge blast of light, and they scattered!"

Lee spoke of her guardian like a legend, but she had never seen grandad display that kind of power. To her he was an ancient wizard who drank hot tea and knitted in his free time.

"He slowed you down when you fell with Harry," Hermione explained further.

"Reckon if he hadn't done it, you two would have been field fertilizer," Ron added, eyebrows raised. "And at that, Harry didn't break a thing, so you must have been good padding."

"Thanks, by the way," Harry said sheepishly. He seemed out of it, dazed and nervous.

Anastasia remembered her father's face the most, cut and bloodied as he begged for mercy.

"Where is he now?" she asked, noting his lack of presence. "Grandad…"

"Stayed until you were healed," Fred commented.

"Then he said something about going to war with the minister over having the dementors removed…can't wait to see that show," George grinned.

"That's enough, you lot" Madam Pomfrey said shortly, "this isn't a party palace. You may visit tomorrow."

"Party palace?" Fred asked.

"I reckon I'd like to check out one of those," George grinned. The nurse scoffed and waved them off. Their friends left begrudgingly with soft and encouraging smiles.

Madame Pomfrey gave an lavender, iridescent potion to Harry and Anastasia.

"Dreamless sleep. This will help with the pain," she explained as Anastasia took the glass phial between her fingertips.

"Wait, I need to see grandad," she said, "where is he?"

"I'm sure he's in his office speaking to the minister—"

"No, I really need to see him—" Anastasia panicked and tried to rise from bed. She needed to apologize. Her pain arrested her, and she yelped as Madam Pomfrey caught her shoulders.

"You are in no state to be moving about the castle, Miss Dumbledore," now take the potion, and I'll send for him as soon as he's available.

"You should rest," Harry encouraged, "I'm sure Dumbledore will be back soon."

Anastasia looked sadly at the potion, but hesitated. Madam Pomfrey whipped out her wand and the potion floated, tipped back, and quickly drained down her throat.

Anastasia drifted into a numb slumber.

Anastasia awoke to the dim light of the midnight hospital wing. Grandad sat beside her, holding one of her hands tightly between his. He smiled weakly as her eyes fluttered open.

"Welcome back," he said calmly.

Overwhelmed with emotion from the visions, she shot up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to his neck. Her body cried out in pain. The potion's affects had faded.

"Grandad, I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry, my dear?" he asked, one arm around her waist to brace her back, his warmth cradled her, "You've done nothing wrong."

Tears flooded her vision.

"I saw me hurt you…I'd never want to do that to you."

Albus froze.

"The dementors…" he said, making the connection, "is that all you saw?"

She shook her head. He cradled her and helped her lie back on the cot.

"I saw…I saw me destroying the Charms classroom…felt it…and Professor Flitwick was so frightened…and…" she remembered Narcissa and Lucius, and Draco's asthma attack.

"And what?" Albus asked.

"And nothing," she bluffed, feeling Draco deserved some privacy. "It was all dark after that…"

Albus winced as if he were the one suffering.

"You're starting to remember…" he said hopelessly.

"It's more than that grandad…I can't remember my happiest memory…for my patronus…I can't find it at all…and if I can't cast a patronus to know what I'll be, I shouldn't even try to become an animagus…"

Albus quieted. Anastasia placed her hand over his folded ones, she continued in her reasoning.

"Thing is…I think I will remember those things on my own eventually…but I would much rather have you show them to me…"

Albus finally nodded.

"I'll consider it…" he said, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead, handing her another potion, "now sleep."

The next day, Madame Pomfrey released her from the hospital wing with a couple of extra potions for sleeping. But she didn't want to sleep anymore. Anastasia realized how behind on work she was after weeks of quidditch practice and sat in the library by herself, pouring over texts about obscuri and how they came to be and what happened to those who did. She had to know more about what she saw in the vision. When she was reading about past treatment of obscurus-infected people, a tall figure appeared on her right and placed a parchment scroll on top of her book.

Anastasia looked up to find Justin Finch-Fletchley staring down at her.

"Here, if you want to help us," he said, "this is how you can make up for what you said in Hogsmeade."

Anastasia unrolled the note.

We, of the Hogwarts Muggle-Born Student Organization, request that administration of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to recognize the following.

Noting that the attacks of the heir of Slytherin's monster disproportionately affected muggle born students.

And, seeing that Hogwarts has a long history that is fraught with myths of conspiracies and magic against muggleborn witches and wizards.

And, noting that most supremely evil wizards have used muggleborn witches and wizards as a scapegoat for lack of magical world power.

And recognizing that many traditional pureblood families still teach and encourage their progeny to hate and ridicule muggleborn witches and wizards

And noting that in effect, much bullying by pureblood students goes unrecognized and unpunished, resulting in an unsafe learning environment for muggleborn witches and wizards.

The students of the organization request...

1) Muggleborn students and their families be made aware of any other school legends, curses, or hexes that may inadvertently affect muggleborn students.

2) Administration and the school board make families aware of the steps being taken to eliminate said legends, curses, or hexes BEFORE they become a legitimate problem.

3) Administration and school board make muggleborn students aware of students from families with previous ties to dark wizards or blood purist organizations.

4) Administration and faculty make derogatory terminology and hate crimes towards muggleborn students a suspendable and expellable offense.

"You can't be serious," she argued, "the last two will be impossible to enforce. No one on the board is going to agree to this. They're mostly pureblood aristocrats," she rolled it up and tried to hand it back to him.

"Look, Professor Burbage said I should give you a chance. Granger said I should give you a chance. Clearwater and Creevy are vouching for you as well, so either you take this chance, or you accept that you're against us, not with us," he handed it out to her again. She glared at him, and then at the parchment.

"I'll see what I can do," she said and slipped it into her bag.

As soon as Justin left, another boy appeared on the side of the table as if he were waiting to speak with her.

"Anastasia," Draco said in a grave voice.

"What do you want?" Anastasia asked, not making eye contact. He looked over his shoulders and sat down at the chair across from her.

"I came to tell you what I saw…when the dementors attacked you," he mumbled, as if this were only partially the reason why he openly sat next to her in the library on a Sunday afternoon.

Anastasia held her breath. She didn't really want to talk about it.

"I saw Dumbledore beg you to stop attacking him, and I saw you fly through the school, and I saw—" she put her hand up to stop him.

"You saw everything I did, okay?" she whispered frantically, "Please, please don't tell anyone. They're going to think I'm really a monster, some of them already do—"

"You're not a monster," Draco said forwardly.

"Do you know what they used to do to obscurii back in the old days?" Anastasia gestured to her book. "They killed them, flat out murdered them, because it was easier than waiting around for them to die from an incurable illness."

Draco's eyes scanned the book, and then flickered back up to her.

"No one wants to kill you, Stasia. You're cured. Besides, if they wanted to kill you, they'd have to kill me too, and I'm not going to let that happen," he said determinedly.

Of course, he would consider self-preservation first.

"What about what I saw?" Anastasia asked. "I watched your parents fighting about the press release. Did that really happen? Did he really—"

Draco waved his hands and shushed her, looking as if he might jump across the table to shut her up.

"Alight, alright, I won't say anything…" her words calmed him, and he sunk back in his chair.

"It did happen," he said distantly, looking out the window across the room.

Anastasia raised her eyebrows.

"But I didn't feel anything when you had that asthma attack…I usually faint or at least get dizzy."

"I faked it," Draco admitted. "I used to do it all the time when I was younger because they would stop speaking to each other after that and give me a moment's peace."

Anastasia remembered the end of the vision. Draco had sat up all night listening to see if his parents would argue again.

"I'm so sorry," Anastasia said solemnly, "I was really scared for her…do you know how she's doing?"

Draco nodded.

"They're keeping their distance. Staying in separate rooms. Avoiding each other at all costs," he said.

"At the train station…you wouldn't even look at her," she observed. Draco scowled.

"If she had kept to her own business, none of this would have happened. It is her fault," Draco said coldly.

"I would have never existed if it wasn't for her—" Anastasia protested. He frowned in pain.

"We wouldn't be cursed either…" he said carefully. Although Anastasia knew that we would have been I in his hypothetical ideal. Her heart hurt.

"We should avoid each other," Anastasia said. "It's the only way to keep ourselves from…you know…"

"What, princess? You don't want to fall in love with me?" he asked with a sly grin.

Anastasia's stomach flipped and she grimaced. So, he did know about the rumors of the lifeline.

"It's a choice," she said determinedly. "We can choose what we want to do with our lives, lifeline or none."

Draco looked down at the table and then out the window.

"I keep trying to tell myself that…it doesn't mean it's true." He frowned, pushed in his chair, and walked away.

"I have decided," Albus said that evening, folding his hands together, "to give you back some of your memories from when you were afflicted with the obscurus."

Anastasia looked up from her empty dinner plate.

"Really?" she asked excitedly. She hadn't expected him to change his mind so fast.

"Yes, and I think I've identified the memory you need for your patronus form," he said, pointing his index finger in the air beside him.

Anastasia wiggled in her seat excitedly, but the pain in her back prevented her from jumping up. She shouldn't have sat in the uncomfortable library chairs all day.

"Great! Can I see it now?" she asked, her eyes glittered up at him.

"Wait, wait just one moment." Albus became solemn. "While this memory is joyful for you, this one certainly isn't joyful for me. I ask, that even if these memories change your how you feel, even if they cause you to hate me, please grant me whatever grace you have in your heart."

"Grandad," she walked to him and hugged him around the neck, feeling the softness of his plum velvet robes. "Nothing will change the fact that I love you."

"Still," he said as he pulled away, "should those feelings change, please keep what I said in mind."

She nodded respectfully.

In the office, Albus pulled out a tube from his vast collection of glittering silver phials, carefully labelled in parchment script. Anastasia peered at the label on hers and saw that it read "Anastasia, cloudy day, 9 years."

He uncorked the phial, tipped it into the pensive, and watched the silvery liquid swirl into the basin.

"In we go," Albus said, grabbed the back of Anastasia's head, and pushed her into the water.

When Anastasia emerged alongside Albus, they stood in her bedchamber. She looked around at the shelves covered in muggle books and albums, her nightstand set with her mother's picture, and her large, quilted comforter covering her cherry wood bedframe, and decided things looked much the same as they did in present day.

The only difference was the girl in the window was four years younger than herself. The child with long red hair stared out at the sunbeams falling between clouds along the moors around the castle. A book lay open in her lap, as if she had begun to read, but found herself swept away in the story instead, and was now gazing out the window with a yearning gleam.

Fawkes perched beside her on the reading nook cushion. She stroked the bird's feathers and wondered out loud.

"What would it be like to fly, Fawkes? Would it be as wonderful as in the books?"

"Can I?" Anastasia asked Albus, taking a slight step towards her former self. Albus nodded.

"This is only a memory. A mental recording. You cannot affect any event through the penseive. You will not see or hear yourself."

Anastasia nodded and drew closer to the little girl. She peeked over her own shoulder and saw what she was reading.

Peter Pan

"Or to be a lost boy?" she continued, "Having an entire island to wander through, to meet mermaids and fairies and pirates. Hm."

Anastasia sighed and leaned against the windowpane.

"Of course, I would be happy with being able to go outside."

Present day Anastasia checked the window. The latch to open it was gone.

"Anastasia!" Albus burst into the room wearing his formal lavender robes and cap. His beard was one foot and three quarters long instead of two feet, and he maybe had 137 winkles instead of 140. "There's been a last-minute board meeting called. I must go to the Ministry. Will you be alright on your own?" he asked fervently.

Present day Albus examined himself, frowning as if there were something broken with this version.

"Mhmm," Young Anastasia said, "Minnie's lessons end at four. I can always floo her office if I need something."

"Floo her?" present-day Anastasia asked Albus. "Why would I do that? I could use the tunnels—" Anastasia gestured to the wall of her room where the door to her secret entrance usually was. Except it wasn't. There was a bare wall where the door to the knight should have been.

"It's not there," she said. Rita Skeeter's words echoed in her head.

What did your father do to keep you inside?

Present Albus nodded and pointed to his past self, who spoke immediately.

"Yes, and please remember the rules. Be a good girl while I'm gone."

"Of course, grandad. Have a good meeting," Anastasia said in a strained voice.

Present Anastasia didn't miss her younger self crossing her fingers underneath the book cover.

As soon as Albus apparated away, Anastasia jumped to her feet, leaving the book flat on the floor.

"Come on, Fawkes. Time to enact the escape plan."

Fawkes cawed uncertainly.

"Come on, Fawkes. Everyone is in class right now anyway. Might as well try."

Anastasia watched her previous self slip off the window seat and go to the wardrobe. She opened it and saw it was as bare as it had been she had when she packed for Diagon Alley, but her younger self opened a false compartment in the bottom and pulled out a long black robe, socks, and shoes.

There were no other shoes in the wardrobe at all.

Young Anastasia put on the clothes, and in them, albeit swallowed, she could pass for a normal Hogwarts student. A Hufflepuff patch flashed on her chest.

Present day Albus and Anastasia trailed behind the nine-year-old witch, who stole through the headmaster's suite, careful of every step. She checked behind corners, and under furniture, and on top of bookshelves.

Young Anastasia was paranoid of something.

They followed her all the way down the stairs to the front corridor. Young Anastasia took a deep breath and walked into the hallway when no one was coming.

She strolled out the back doors of the castle, looking over both shoulders as she left. She walked down the trail and gazed at the grassy hill between the backside of the castle and the Forbidden Forest. Her eyes and smile widened as another group of clouds passed and brilliant sun lit up the lawn, warming every weed and wildflower.

"Yes!" she shouted and rolled down the hill like a log, giggling and laughing as bits of grass were torn in her wake.

At the bottom of the hill, next to Hagrid's hut, Anastasia lay, limbs spread, gazing at the sky. On the horizon, rain clouds rolled closer.

A butterfly flew and touched her nose before flying off again. The rain rolled in, and Anastasia watched the first water droplets fall against her face.

Young Anastasia closed her eyes and let out a breath.

"Had I never been outside before?" Anastasia asked.

"Not quite," Albus said, "We still went to the beach and to France during the summer, but during the school year, I required you to stay inside."

"All year?" Anastasia asked. Albus nodded.

"This was your first time out in six months. On your own? First time ever."

A voice called toward them from the castle. Young Anastasia shot into a sitting position, eyes full of fear. The edges of the vision rippled away, and they emerged back in reality.

Anastasia looked up sadly to her father, his expression soft, and his mouth quipping up at the ends.

"What happens next?" she asked. "Who caught me?"

"We'll save that part for another day," Albus decided.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked, which gave him permission to smile fondly.

"I've only just realized how much you've grown,"

The next time Anastasia went to Minerva to work on her patronus charm, she was ready. She knew her happiest memory, but she was nervous. She had been interpreting and reinterpreting all week, trying to think of what animal could equate to her soul's protector. Would it be a cat like Minerva's? They enjoyed basking in the sun. Or a butterfly? That couldn't be a very useful animagus at all if she were blown away in the wind.

"Alright," Minerva said, backing away from the space they had cleared in the classroom to give her room to cast, "when you're ready."

"Expecto Patronum!" she shouted. She remembered the stillness of reading in her room in the castle, the spark of excitement as Albus announced his departure, the stealth of slinking down the halls to the outdoors, and the warmth of the sun on that day when she lay in the grass.

And with those memories, power poured from her heart, down her shoulder, and through her wand into the great light in front of her. It was a light so great, she could only see the outline of four legs and a tail.

When the light faded, and she stood alone again with Minerva, she asked her excitedly.

"Did you see what it was? Was it useless?"

Minerva removed her misty glasses, wiped them on the hem of her collar, dabbed her eyes on the back of her sleeve and replaced her glasses.

"Unfortunately, a fox would be a very useful animagus." Minerva rolled her eyes as if the situation couldn't be more annoying. "It's a native species, and particularly good for hiding. We couldn't convince your father out of this one if we tried."

Anastasia beamed.