Chapter 19
Falling
"I say, will you stop ignoring me and listen!"
"The more you whine, the more I will continue to ignore you," Rose replied idly, smacking her lips and fluttering her eyelashes at her reflection.
"But today's supposed to be my special day!" Renée whined, swiveling the umpteen folds of her floor-length skirt.
"Oh my, look at you! You look absolutely darling!" came the gushing voice of Renée's mother as the older woman bustled into the room. She was blond with telltale signs of grey in her golden locks, her floor length peach dress hanging off of her broad shoulders and hugging her voluptuous curves, as she walked over and immediately began fussing over her daughter
"What!" Renée shrieked, slapping her mother's hands away and shoving Rose away from the wall length mirror so she could situate herself in front of it. She regarded herself for a moment before glowering at her mother's reflection. "You almost scared me! I thought my painfully crafted ravishing-lady look was completely ruined!"
"Oh, you are such a tease," Chantelle Herington replied sarcastically, moving towards Rose instead. "Why don't you learn from Rose, here? She's grown up to be such a wonderful young lady."
"Thank you, Miss Herington," Rose said with a mock bow, making Chantelle break out in giggles.
Renée rolled her eyes at their antics as she dabbed at her lips. "Mother dear already considers you more of a daughter than I," she said drily, to which Chantelle and Rose wrapped their arms around each other's waists.
"I cannot deny the truth," the older woman said solemnly and Rose laughed.
"It is an honour to be considered your daughter," Rose said with a genuine smile and Renée smacked her lips disapprovingly.
"Keep talking like that and she'll have you marry into the family in a second."
"Oh, speaking of which," Chantelle said, her honey-coloured eyes shining with the familiar gleam Rose remembered from the summers she had spent on Herington estate during their school days, watching the older woman entertain a myriad of young lovers. "I just spotted two absolutely lovely lads walking across the lawn just now."
"Is one of them the kind you prefer?" Renée asked with a glance over her shoulder.
"Oh, stop it," Chantelle blushed, waving her hand.
"Then the other one's Rose's," Renée replied flatly, thoroughly unamused by her mother's shameless flirting and flaunting.
"The one with that long blond mane?" Chantelle asked in a somewhat astonished voice, snapping her eyes to Rose. "I didn't know you fancied boys like that."
"You're one to talk, you borderline pedophile," Renée said crisply, turning away from the mirror after finally having deemed her appearance perfect. She gave her mother a scathing look and then picking up her skirts, made to exit the room. "What father would say, I don't know. He must be rolling in his grave by now."
"Few years away from home and look how barbaric her way of speaking has become," Chantelle said sorrowfully, hooking her arm through Rose's as they followed after the brunette.
Rose laughed as she listened to Renée complain loudly about how smothering it was in her floor-length dress.
"You adamantly insisted upon wearing that, Ren, don't complain now," Chantelle chastised, walking upto her daughter – who had almost tripped on her overly long skirt and had bent down to see if she'd ripped it.
"I wish I'd gone for comfort instead of appearance," the brunette said, eyeing Rose's choice of clothing for the occasion.
Rose had chosen to wear a black, glossy, high-waist, pleated skirt that ended halfway up her thighs and a flouncy, ivory blouse tucked into it, its airy material forming bunches at her shoulders and then tightening just above her elbow. She'd paired the ensemble with black stilettoes with gold cuffs and gold jewelry. She fluffed her hair and smiled, adjusting the barrette atop her head.
It seemed rather simple a choice for an engagement, but the event itself was simple, with barely fifty attending guests consisting of the closest friends and family. What with the Heringtons being aristocrats, and both mother and daughter's love for attention, she had expected it to be a grand event. But apparently Cole had somehow miraculously convinced Renée to have it on a small scale, and so it was taking place on the estate itself, in a portion of the extravagant garden that Chantelle was so proud of.
"Mother, will you kindly quit with your fussing? You're driving me up the wall, here!"
"Nonsense! I'm only making sure my darling daughter is perfect for her grand day!"
That obviously seemed to cheer the brunette up and she hefted her skirts with her mother's help and made it down the path that led to the gardens. She stopped to wave at someone and Rose's stomach fluttered when she saw who it was.
"I permit you to go say hello to your lover boy under the condition that you return to my side immediately," Renée told her, tilting her chin up and looking down her nose at the redhead. Rose rolled her eyes and did a little curtsy as she waited for her friend and her mother to walk away before she turned and made her way toward Scorpius – and Lucas, who was shuffling around awkwardly like a lost, baby animal, behind the blond.
Scorpius noticed her a moment later and with a wide grin stretching across his face, began walking towards her. She didn't bother hiding her smile at the way his eyes traveled down her body as he gave her a once over.
They were barely a few feet apart when she felt it – a sharp prodding inside her head.
Someone was trying to look into her mind using Legilimency and she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes going round as she immediately brought up her walls, concentrating on the image of the brick wall around her family home. The prodding didn't stop, and she felt it scrape and poke against the wall she'd brought up around her mind. She saw the concerned expression on Scorpius's face and looked away, her eyes scanning her surroundings for the perpetrator.
There were more than a few guests meandering through the gardens as they waited for the actual engagement to start, but all of them seemed to be chatting away with each other like twittering birds, none of them even glancing her way.
By then Scorpius had reached her and was asking her something, but she was too busy keeping up her Occlumency and trying to find the person who was trying to get into her head at the same time, to register his words. She had just skimmed past the farthest wall of the gardens when she did a double take, her eyes flitting back to the cloaked figure standing well hidden in the shade of two trees.
How can they perform such powerful Legilimency from so far away? She thought, panicking as she felt her own Occlumency crumble under her momentary uncertainty.
"Do not fight me," the voice in her head said and she gasped as her mental wards were torn down, feeling the unimaginably heavy presence in her mind. "I am not the enemy."
Like hell, she thought, trying desperately to concentrate on the image of the wall but failing as she saw the figure move farther into the shadows. She felt her knees buckle under her and Scorpius probably caught her before she fell, as she grit her teeth and vehemently tried to repel the force trying to overtake her mind.
"Do not resist, child. I am not your enemy. I mean you no harm."
There was something oddly familiar about the ghostly voice echoing in her head, but she was barely clinging onto consciousness and couldn't find the energy or the mental prowess to figure out to whom it belonged.
"I implore you to let me in. I can only speak with you in this manner. I beg you to listen to me. Your brother is in grave danger and only you can help him."
An image of Albus flashed through her mind and she stilled in both her physical and mental struggling. Albus looked pale as death, his skin dry and flaky and his cheeks hollow. His eyes were closed and his arms were crossed across his chest over his Healer robes. He almost looked as though he was—
Is he dead? She thought desperately, panic starting to overwhelm her instinct to fight against the unknown presence.
"Not yet," replied the voice and she relaxed slightly. "But he will be soon."
What must I do, she asked urgently as the image of her beloved cousin began to fade to the back of her mind.
"I will show you memories that are crucial in order for you to understand. You must pay close attention and never let your mind waver, lest it should crack under the weight of the spell and effectively end your life."
You're telling me this could kill me?!
"Yes, I am. But it is a risk that is needed to be taken in order to understand what ails your brother. Do you hold your own life of higher importance, to forsake that of your brother?"
No, no I don't. Alright, show me this thing that is so important that I have to risk my life for it.
"Very well. But I must warn you; I am sending the memories directly into your mind. These memories are not mine and therefore not under my control. Even I do not know the full extent of the consequences from the events and emotions that transpire in it."
Events? This isn't just one memory?
"It is, but it is made up different parts. Parts that you must know about in order to—"
To understand, yes, I got that. But why is this so risky if you're only showing me memories?
"Because Legilimency is much like viewing Pensieve memories. It will take you through the memory like you were present at the time."
I know what Legilimency is; I'm asking you why this is so dangerous.
"I already told you. You will be experiencing these memories as is. Even if barely a moment has passed in your physical body, you may have lived an entire lifetime in your mind. Legilimency is a very powerful and very dangerous tool and you must always remember that you are not part of the memory. You are a separate entity who is only viewing the memory from the perspective of its owner. Do not forget your identity and do not lose yourself within the memory. This is my one and only warning to you. Now, are you ready? I do not have much time or magic left to perform such a strong spell from afar."
Wait, I have one last question. You said these memories weren't yours, then whose are they?
There was a pause and Rose suddenly wondered if the person who was performing the spell had used up too much magic and couldn't keep it up anymore. But she felt the presence reappear in her mind and braced herself.
"They belong to my only blood family left, the memories of my only son."
And then she was falling.
Falling through never ending darkness. Falling through space and time. Falling through her own mind.
Suddenly there was the sound of a child's bubbling laughter and thousands of memories shot past her as she fell. She was falling too fast to hold onto any of the memories, and the rush of emotions and scenes were making her ill. She shut her eyes and let the overjoyed screams of the child overcome her senses, listening to the ringing, carefree laughter echo through her mind. There was something familiar about it. The extreme joy and warmth that spread through her, the overwhelming affection…
When she no longer felt the falling sensation, but rather, a gentle hovering, before she felt solid ground beneath her feet, she slowly fluttered her eyes open and took in the scene around her.
Her first reaction was a startled one. She always thought memories were vibrant clips of a person's life, full of colours and energy. But the memory she was in was almost monochromatic. The colours and hues had been reduced to duller shades, like ghosts of the originals, and it made her feel unnerved and claustrophobic. It was like the colours were bleeding out of the memory slowly but surely, to leave behind a grey scale scene that probably had once been bursting with colour. It was as though the owner of the memory was suppressing it knowingly or unknowingly, causing it to become dreary and lifeless.
The dulled colours mixed and blended around her to form a familiar cobblestoned street that she instantly recognised as Diagon Alley. The buildings and shops seemed to be slightly blurred, like they were out of focus. But the blurred edges began to coagulate and she realised with some shock that the vague forms were actually witches and wizards present in the memory – it was just taking some time for them to appear.
Once they were fully formed, the bustle of activity and the assault of sounds was almost overwhelming. The sounds echoed in her ears like she was listening to them through a Sonorus spell. She watched the people around her milling about and felt a strangely uncomfortable sensation. It only took her a moment to place the cause for it.
All the witches and wizards were either blatantly staring at her, or shooting her passing glances every now and then. But that wasn't what was making her uncomfortable. It was the obvious dislike and horror in their eyes and expressions as they looked at her – like she was some murderous beast tied to a lamppost.
Then she realised with a jolt that the witches and wizards weren't staring at her but at something to her left. She looked beside her and was momentarily confused when she saw more of the bustling street, before she was startled out of her shoes when there was a slight rustling near her feet. Her eyes dropped lower to find a child – a young boy, to be precise – of barely five or six years of age, his expensive jacket and shorts coupled with his shiny leather shoes and the miniature top hat on his head screamed nobility.
She couldn't see his face because the rim of his hat was obscuring her view. She could only see that he was licking something that looked like the stick inside a Popsicle. Curious as to why he was licking the wooden stick when the ice candy was obviously finished, she took a step to the side and felt something squelch under her shoes. Turning to look down at her feet, she saw what was the melted left overs of what had once been a grape Popsicle – if the telltale violet in the gray was any indication.
Turning to the boy, she wondered if he had dropped his Popsicle, and if he had, why was he still licking the stick? He obviously had enough money to buy himself another. She suddenly looked around herself and the boy, realising with a jolt that the child was standing all alone on the side of the street – his parents were nowhere in sight. Looking in the glass of the closest store, she tried to see if she could spot someone who fit the description of his parents, but could barely look a few feet past the display case, the inside being too dark to see into.
"Hello, my dear, are you lost? Do you know where mummy and daddy are?"
She spun around to see the witch who had bent down to talk to the boy. The woman was clothed completely in back, like she was in mourning, and had a very large, very fancy hat perched atop her dark head. Her painted lips were stretched across her face in what seemed like a concerned smile, but she didn't look in the least bit like someone who cared if a little boy was lost or separated from his parents. In fact, the woman looked exactly like the kind who would want to kidnap young children and sell them off as slaves – especially if they were of noble birth.
She watched with growing trepidation as the little boy looked up at the woman and slowly shook his head, the Popsicle stick still in his hand. She couldn't see his face yet. The black-clad woman smiled genially at him and stretched out a gloved hand. "Would you like to come with me so we can look for your parents?"
'Don't go!' she shouted, but her voice was lost in her own throat and realised that she had no physical body. She was only a specter drifting through the memory. Plus, even if she did have a physical body, she was sure nothing could change the course of events in the memory even if she wanted them to. So she watched with a sinking heart as the child discarded his popsicle stick and placed his small hand in the woman's glove-clad one.
"Now, can you remember the last place you saw mummy or daddy?"
The boy shook his head and hung it, his shoulders drooping sadly. 'He must have been really scared,' she thought with a jolt. Of course he would be, he was only a child, lost and alone in a place where he obviously didn't belong.
"No matter, this nice lady here will help you find them. May I be so bold as to ask you for your name?"
The boy hesitated for a brief moment before raising his head to look at her. His lips moved and she leant in to catch his name, but the memory was already shifting to the next one; the cobblestoned streets were melting into splotches of dull colour and blending together to form the next scene. She watched the little boy and the woman disappear into the swimming grey and black and sighed, even her breath feeling nonexistent.
The next scene was in a courtyard of some sort. She could only see one portion of the broken down structure to her side, the rest was still swirling around and hadn't settled yet. Making her way towards the crumbling wall and peering around it, she wondered if she would find the little boy there.
To her extreme shock, she did. He was crouching by the least destroyed portion of the wall, sobbing quietly into his knees. He was wearing a cloak around his shoulder and its hood was pulled over his head, obscuring her view of his face once again. She was swimming with curiosity as to who this boy was. He seemed to be the owner of the memories. She had thought the memories may belong to Albus, but the crying boy was definitely not her cousin.
'So then, who is he? And why is he so important?'
There was the rustling of a cloak behind her and she half-turned, leaping out of the way as a wizard strode right through her. Her heart would probably have been racing extremely fast if she could feel it, she thought vaguely. In the previous memory, her spectral form seemed more solid. Now, she felt like she could twist around at her waist multiple times or turned her head in a 180˚ circle. She dared not try, though.
"What do you think you're doing?"
She was pulled out of her musings as the wizard reached down and pulled the boy up roughly by his arm. He shrieked and tried to struggle out of the man's grip, but to no avail.
"Enough of this nonsense. Your grandmother's ceremony has already begun."
The man then began dragging the boy away, and as they passed by her, she realised that he was at least a head taller than before. He must have been around ten.
The wizard half-carried, half-dragged the boy towards wherever this grandmother apparently was, but the scene was still fluctuating and they disappeared, once again, into the swimming dullness.
She was almost jolted into the next memory like someone had punched her in the stomach, making her double over and catch her breath before she could view the new scene. When she slowly raised her head, it was to another extremely familiar sight. She felt herself soundlessly cry out in joy, running towards the nearest window and staring out of it to the lush green – albeit dull – grounds of Hogwarts. It was probably early spring and she could smell the crispness in the cool breeze that swept through her hair. Her body seemed to have solidified once again.
There was the sound of laughter followed by angry shouts and she turned to see two students running down the hallway. They disappeared around the corner before she could catch more than the long, curly locks of the girl. Her heart stilled. Something about this scene was extremely familiar. She immediately tore after the duo, rounding the corner and instantly recognising where they were.
'The courtyard just outside the Clock Tower,' she thought excitedly, her blood singing in her veins as she dashed around the fountain and slipped in next to the enormous swaying pendulum. She caught her breath as she scanned the area for the two students. There was a despondent scream from the right and she immediately rushed towards it, her own mind beginning to remember the memory.
"Give it back! Give it back, please!"
"Or what, Rose? Going to go running and cry to mummy?"
"Please! I'll let you have my homework, so please give it back!"
There was the sound of jubilant laughter as the boy continued to tease the girl and even as she turned the corner towards them, the memory began to change.
'What is going on?' she thought. 'That was Scorpius and me just now. Is this… is this Scorpius's memory?'
A/n: Here's the next chapter! I should say, the chapters from now on may seem to end in Cliffies, but they aren't actually Cliffies. Or they're not intended to be Cliffies, anyway. It's mostly because the memories were one, very long chapter and I had to strategically break them into different parts. Things will probably get confusing but answers will be given to you sooner than later, be patient.
Anyway, your thoughts?