Anastasia Harrison and the Curse of the Wendigo
An Ilvermorny Story
A/N: This story takes place in the Harry Potter universe, but on the other side of the pond at the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Virtually all of the characters are original, but references will be made to characters and plot elements in Wizarding Britain. This takes place approximately halfway between the events of The Philosopher's Stone, and for those of you that are familiar with the Alexandra Quick series, The Thorn Circle. AQ characters and plot elements will NOT be featured here.
South Bend, Indiana
Wednesday, 22 April 1998 6:04 PM
Sharon Harrison sat patiently in the driver's seat, proud of her nearly-perfect parallel parking job she just did. She turned a knob about three quarters a full turn clockwise until she found her favorite classic rock station. She smiled as she hummed along to some familiar hits from the late 1970s. It didn't take long for her to get lost in her own little world – between this and piano lessons, quiet moments like this were few and far between each week.
Forty minutes later, she heard the rapid-paced clacking of black patent tap shoes on the pavement. Nearly-eleven year old Anastasia held an arm across her face as she opened the front passenger door. She was clearly distraught – even without the sounds of muffled sniffles and sobs, Sharon could tell something was eating her daughter.
"What's wrong, love?"
A pair of pretty hazel eyes accented by flattering black-framed glasses gave her mother the briefest of glances, before they returned to the minivan's floorboard.
Sharon tried again, keeping her gentle, loving tone. "Something's bothering you, Anastasia, and it really might help you if you got it off your chest."
Anastasia sighed. She wiped her small, button-like nose on her arm. The slimy, greenish snot trail it left behind caused her to make a light grunting sound in disgust. "Oh Mom," she began. "Moira and Natalie… they called me freak again in dance class today…"
Sharon shook her head. "I don't know what their deal is." She paused; a pensive expression crept on to her face. "It wouldn't surprise me if their insults stem from their jealousy and insecurity. After all, you're the brightest girl in your class. You're a talented dancer and musician… I wish Nell was more like you, to be honest."
"That's not why they call me freak, Mom," protested Anastasia. "Weird stuff happens whenever I'm around other children, and I can't really explain why." She then wrinkled her nose. "And please stop comparing me to Nell. She may be my big sister, but we're nothing alike. Unlike me, she's pretty and popular…" And dumb as a post, she continued, if only in her head.
Sharon's mouth rounded into a small 'o' shape. "I'm sorry, love," she murmured. "I didn't mean anything by it." She cranked her steering wheel as far as it would go, then put her car in gear, as she slowly made her way out of the parking spot on the street. When she had finally straightened her car out and began moving forward, she continued the conversation with her daughter.
"So, could you elaborate on this… weird stuff you were telling me about?" she asked in the kindest voice she could manage. "Did you pull some sort of a prank on them in school earlier today, or perhaps just before your dance class?"
Anastasia resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her mother. "No, Mom," she said somewhat forcefully. "I didn't do anything, I promise. At least, not that I had any control over." She crossed her arms on her chest in a huff, slightly miffed that her mom didn't seem to totally believe her innocence. She sighed and lowered her voice to something just above a whisper. "During our break between ballet and tap class today, we went to the water fountain to get a quick drink. I stood behind Moira and Natalie in line, and Moira turned around and just, I dunno, giggled at me. It's not a friendly giggle, Mom… it's one of those condescending giggles, y'know? One where someone laughs because they think they're better than another person."
Anastasia was proud of herself for using a very grown-up word in its proper context. Shoot, Nell was officially a freshly-minted teenager and had trouble spelling words half as long. She couldn't suppress a smirk of satisfaction – at least, not all the way. The feeling was quite short-lived, as satisfaction soon gave way to frustration. She balled her hands into fists as she continued her story. "And just before Natalie took her turn at the fountain, she had the nerve to turn around and tell me that I'd never be selected for a duet, because no girl in their right mind… would want to be my partner." The last few words were slower and more deliberate, and again Anastasia did her best to conceal her sniffles.
"That's a horrible thing to say," replied her mom as she began braking her car to a gentle stop at a traffic light. "Eleven can be a cruel age," she added with disdain. "Particularly for girls. Why, I remember Becky Baxter being such a pain in the…"
Anastasia let out an annoyed groan. "Mom," she said through gritted teeth, "will you please let me finish? You wanted to know the story and I'm pouring my heart out to you!"
Her mother nodded. "I'm sorry, Anastasia. I didn't mean to go off on a tangent like that." She cleared her throat. "Go ahead, love. I'll stay quiet."
"Thank you," breathed out Anastasia. "Anyway, when Natalie told me that nobody in my class would want to partner with me, I felt my body temperature rise… like, almost an almost unnatural temperature. I can't really explain it, but on very rare occasions, like when I get very scared or upset, I feel my body just sort of heat up and tingle a bit." She shrugged for emphasis, her mouth shifting somewhat diagonally for extra effect. "But what happened next, I can't explain either. So when she turned back to take a drink from the fountain, her face went all-bug-eyed, and she just spat out this really raunchy yellowish-whitish liquid that looked and even smelled a bit like long-expired milk into the garbage can next to the fountain." She then clapped a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle a giggle.
Her mother caught Anastasia's amused expression, and cocked a disapproving eyebrow through her rear-view mirror. Ana dropped her grin, and took another breath. "Then, the same thing happened when Moira took her turn. She was dry-heaving, and all the other girls just sort of stood back to give her room… when Natalie recovered, she just gave me this look and said, 'way to curse the water fountain, freak.' The dance studio's going to have to close off the water fountain for a few days for further inspection, but I can't really explain what happened. I didn't do anything, you know? I didn't mean for any of that to happen…"
"It's probably just a misunderstanding, love," replied her mother. She knew there was little that she could do or say to assuage her daughter, but at least just listening to her daughter get all that off her chest had to help somewhat, she figured. "You won't have to pay Moira or Natalie any mind for too much longer. Your dance recital is in three weeks, and just a couple of weeks after that, you'll have no classes of any type for the summer."
"Except piano lessons," corrected Anastasia.
Her mother chuckled. "At least you don't have to share those with your schoolmates."
By the time they had reached the house, it was after seven o'clock. The nights were getting longer, but still being in the middle of April, only a sliver of the sun remained in the horizon. Anastasia marched upstairs from the garage, passing by her elder sister Penelope, or Nell as she preferred to be called, in the living room. Nell was lying on the sofa, feet dangling off the edge. One of her hands was clutching a white cordless phone, which might as well have been pasted to her face; the index and middle fingers of her other hand were twirling her long golden-blonde locks. She rolled her eyes at Anastasia as she continued to make her way up to her bedroom; Anastasia in turn blew a raspberry at her elder sister.
She wasted no time drawing her bath; she even poured in a bit of bubble solution. Nell still liked to tease her about it, saying that only little kids still took bubble baths, but Anastasia found them particularly soothing and relaxing after a trying day. Days like this one where she'd been mocked and ostracized for something she had no control over. She sat in the tub, humming the tune to one of her dance routines as she carefully undid the bun on the back of her head. Unlike Nell's silky-smooth, honey blonde hair, Anastasia's shoulder-length hair was russet brown and had hints of waviness, but it was no less lovely.
About fifteen minutes into her bath, she heard a rapping on the bathroom door. Anastasia bristled as she recognized the usual whiny squeak of her elder sister. "Hey Ana, hurry up! You're not the only one who needs to use the bathtub, you know!"
Anastasia shuddered, at least internally. "I'll be out in ten minutes," she called out. "And it's Anastasia, for your information!" Although she usually answered to it, she had a rather strong distaste for being called 'Ana'. Her sister did it because she knew it got her goat; some of Nell's friends had called her that as well. To Anastasia, it worse than the sounds of nails grinding against a chalkboard.
"I'll be back in ten minutes, Anastasia," Nell spat back. "And not a second more!"
Big sisters are the devil incarnate, Anastasia thought to herself. She's the one idiot I can't avoid, even during the summer. She didn't waste much time washing her hair and giving herself one final rinse, before pulling the drain plug and wrapping herself up – and her hair – in big white fluffy towels.
She then trudged to her bedroom and changed into some sleepwear, and then sat at her impeccably-clean desk and began doing her homework. She had finished all of her schoolwork a few minutes before nine; with a yawn, she then stretched and went to the living room where here parents were watching a prime-time sitcom. She hugged both of them good-night, and returned to her room. She pulled back the comforter and sheets on her full-sized bed, plucked a thick paperback novel from her nightstand, and lost herself in a mystery for about forty five minutes before she felt her eyelids get so heavy that she felt herself about to nod off. She daintily removed her glasses and placed them on her nightstand next to her novel, and silently hoped against hope that maybe… just maybe, someone might appreciate her and her talents.
The following Monday afternoon, Nell came home from school with a grin so broad, she looked like she had just scored backstage passes to a boy band concert. This did not go unnoticed by her family at the dinner table, garnering somewhat bemused expressions from her parents, and a rather dramatic eyeroll from Anastasia.
"So Nell," her mother started, breaking the silence, "you seem to be in good spirits this evening." Her father arched an eyebrow. "I know that look, young lady." He shook his head as he let out an audible groan as he dug into his pocket for his wallet. "So, what do you have planned, and how much will it be?"
Nell couldn't help but blush a bit. "Katy and Shelby invited me to Fuller's Family Fun this coming Friday evening for some cheeseburgers and games. I haven't been there in months… can I go? Pleeeeease?" Anastasia rolled her eyes again, thinking to herself, "all she has to do is bat those baby blues, and Mom and Dad just can't say no to her."
"Well," sighed her mother, "your father and I were planning on going out to dinner and a movie this Friday for our anniversary, so I suppose you can go." Nell whispered an excited yesssss to herself, but her look of joy sank to one of disappointment mere seconds later as her mother uttered the words she dreaded the most: "You may go, but you have to take Anastasia with you."
Nell went completely slack-jawed. "But mom," she whined. "I can't be seen with my lame little sister in public!" She sneered at Anastasia. "She cramps my style."
She got a sharp look from her mother. "Penelope Louise Harrison! Either you take Anastasia with you, or you don't go at all."
Nell sighed, her face filled with disappointment and defeat. "All right," she mumbled. She glared at Anastasia for a brief moment, but dropped her steely gaze as soon as her mother cleared her throat.
Her father then slid a couple of crisp twenty dollar bills across the table to her. "Here, princess," he said in an assuaging tone. "Try and be a good sport about this – I'm giving you a little extra since you have to watch your sister. Just remember that this is supposed to cover the both of you, so don't hog it all to yourself."
"Thanks, Daddy," cooed Nell as she greedily took the money. "I'll make sure she has plenty of game tokens." Her father nodded with approval.
Anastasia, however, was personally ambivalent about the forced invitation. On the one hand, she appreciated the opportunity to get out of the house for a couple of hours. On the other hand, she was well aware that Nell found her to be a hindrance, and was just as likely to shove her in a corner for a couple of hours while everyone else had all the fun. The thought spawned a sarcastic, bitter laugh from her lips.
By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, Anastasia begrudgingly changed out of her school uniform and into more comfortable, casual clothes. She then plucked the well-worn mystery novel from the top of her nightstand, and stuffed it into her backpack. Might as well be prepared for the worst, she thought. A book is a lot more stimulating than a bunch of brain-melting games, anyway.
She then heard a gentle knocking on her bedroom door. She expected it to be her mother, or perhaps her father, but to her mild shock, it was Nell. She had a look of exasperation as she reached into her pink leather purse and produced one of the twenty dollar bills her father had given her, and handed it to Anastasia.
Anastasia's eyes widened – she certainly hadn't expected this from Nell. "Uhhh, thanks," she stammered, struggling to process her sister's most unexpected gesture.
"Don't thank me," groaned Nell. "It's what Mom and Dad wanted."
Anastasia rolled her eyes. She should have known better; her sister wouldn't have just given her a charitable contribution like that. She shook her head, and tried to return the money to her sister, but Nell pushed Anastasia's hand down.
"I don't care what you do at the arcade, Ana," Nell said. "Just… don't embarrass me, mmkay?"
Anastasia threw her another sharp look. "Anastasia. Not that hard, sis."
Nell threw her hands up. "Anastasia. Whatever."
Anastasia again attempted to return the twenty dollar bill to her sister. "Honestly, I'd have more fun sitting in the corner reading my mystery novel than playing a bunch of stupid games. You're better off using it with your friends."
Once again, Nell refused to accept the money. "Just… hang on to it, just in case. If you really want to give me the money back, then at least wait until after we're done with the arcade." She then threw her sister a stern glare, and lowered her voice to an ominous whisper. "Whatever it is you do, Do. Not. Embarrass. Me." The last four words were particularly venomous, highlighted with a menacing staccato.
The awkward silence that ensued was pierced by the sharp honking sound of a minivan parked out front. "Shelby's mom's here," whispered Nell, more to herself than to Anastasia. She partially turned away from Anastasia's room, but snapped back toward her little sister. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips were drawn into a thin, tight line. She spread the index and middle fingers of her right hand, pointed them near her eyes, and then pointed them at Anastasia's face.
Your eyeshadow makes you look like a cheap tramp, Anastasia wanted to say. She had all sorts of smarmy and snarky comments, but rarely used them as she was quite adverse to confrontation – whether it be verbal or physical. She was a short and slight girl – Nell was nearly a full head taller than herself, and almost forty pounds heavier. There's no way she could take on her practically adult-sized sister; she found her own classmates intimidating enough.
She didn't like verbal confrontations either. She could dish it out, sure; but she just couldn't take it. She didn't understand why, but she always took criticism and insults so personally… the only thing she hated worse than being insulted or criticized was crying in public, so naturally she took whatever avoidance measures she could to minimize the risk.
"Come on," Nell yelled from the staircase as Anastasia just stood there, lost in her thoughts. Slowly, Anastasia trudged out of her room, with her pack on one shoulder, and made her way down to the first floor in the most disinterested manner possible.
Their mother waited by the front door to see them off. "We'll be leaving in an hour," she declared. "I reckon we'll be back around ten this evening." She wrapped up Nell in a tight hug, then did the same for Anastasia. "Now be good, you two. Have fun!"
"Bye, Mom," the girls said in unison. "Happy Anniversary," added Anastasia. Once they got through the front door, they picked up their pace and clambered into the burgundy minivan idling on the curbside. Both Shelby and Katy threw Nell looks of indignant shock when they saw little Anastasia tagging along, but before either of them could say anything, Nell shook her head and whispered, "Don't ask."
Nell and her crew engaged in gossip and idle chit-chat during the car ride to Fuller's Family Fun, while Anastasia was, for the most part, able to drown out their stupid giggles as she immersed herself in her mystery novel.
Dinner was more or less the same – Anastasia ate quietly, while the three older girls continued to ignore her. This didn't bother her too much; the way she saw it, she preferred getting the silent treatment over getting actively ridiculed. After the girls had polished off their meals of greasy cheeseburgers and crinkle fries, Nell spared Anastasia the briefest of glances and waved her off dismissively, as if to say, "you do your thing; I'll do mine."
Ana slid out of her booth and trudged off to the quietest corner she could find so she could read. The pickings were slim; after all, this was an arcade, so a place free of bright lights and loud, annoying sounds would be a hot commodity. To her relief, in the very back corner of the complex, she found a room with floor-to-ceiling windows and about a half dozen circular oak tables. She wouldn't be completely free from the noise and flashing lights, but at least she wouldn't likely be bothered.
This room must be for companies and families who call in for reservations, she thought. She scanned the arcade for an employee… she surmised they must have had a uniform of sorts, or at least a name tag. She finally found a lanky boy, maybe just a couple of years older than Nell, with about a half dozen golf putters in his hands. On the upper left-side of his chest was a cheap-looking nametag that read "Todd".
Anastasia approached Todd at a brisk pace, and cleared her throat. "Excuse me." She pointed to the reservable dining room in the corner. "Is anyone using that room tonight?"
Todd looked at her quizzically. He didn't respond right away, as her question sort of took him off-guard. He shrugged at Anastasia. "I don't think so," he finally replied. "Why do you ask?"
Anastasia produced her novel from her backpack. Her cheeks pinkened with embarrassment. "I… I just want a place to read in peace," she squeaked.
Todd arched an eyebrow. "That's a new one," he drawled. "I mean, I s'pose I don't have a problem with you using it, but if one of my higher-ups or a large group of people start heading over there, then you'll need to move."
Anastasia nodded. "That's fine. Thank you."
Todd nodded to Anastasia, and continued with his duties. Then Anastasia made a bee-line toward the empty room and whipped out her novel, content to pass the time isolated from Nell and her equally-brainless friends. It was a bit of a chore to ignore the shrill whistles and bright blue and white lights, but they weren't annoying enough to break her concentration.
She had gotten through about twenty pages when she got interrupted; and most rudely, at that. She slowly lowered the book from her face to find the familiar, ugly sneer of her classmate, Moira Newton.
"What are you doing here, freak?" Moira spat scornfully. "Did you get lost on your way to the library?"
Anastasia tried to ignore the girl, but as soon as she buried her nose in her book again, the whiny nasal barrage continued.
"I asked you a question, freak," Moira continued in a glowering tone. "Not answering questions is quite rude."
Anastasia was seething inside. She hated confrontations, positively hated them, but there was no escape now. She once again lowered her novel to address her tormentor. "I was asked to come here," she replied as matter-of-factly as she could. "I'd like to be left to my book, if you don't mind." Again, she tried burying her face in her book, hoping that Moira would take a hint and just leave her be.
Moira shrugged. "I don't know who'd want to invite you. Even your own sister is ashamed of you! You are the very definition of lame, Anastasia Harrison." Her shrill, haughty laugh pierced the din of buzzers and whistles and bangs that permeated the arcade.
That same laughter broke Anastasia's concentration. In a fit of frustration, she slammed her book shut. She then felt her body temperature rise, and the pressure between her temples swiftly increased. She clapped a hand on each side of her face, and bellowed, "Leave me alone, you bitch!" to Moira. "Don't ever come near me again!"
Moira turned around, her mouth agape in shock. She had never been called that name before; certainly not by a meek goody-two-shoes like Anastasia. She just stood there… not sure what move to make. Part of her wanted to retaliate, part of her wanted to turn back around and keep walking, but… she just stood there, watching Anastasia much like one cannot simply avoid rubbernecking to catch glimpses of a gruesome train wreck.
For the briefest of moments, Moira regained her composure. "And you stay away from me, freak!" she called back.
Anastasia closed her eyes, and felt her face become hot to the touch. She slowly removed her hands from the sides of her head, and began breathing shallow, rapid breaths. The lighting in the arcade began to flicker, whack-a-mole machines sped to impossibly fast speeds, arcade machine scoreboards soared to impossibly high numbers, and skee balls and air hockey pucks began levitating and flying in myriad directions. Children began crying and screaming, while parents shepherded their children to the exit doors, or if that wasn't viable, the relative safety underneath the wooden tables.
One of the skee balls pummeled Moira on the elbow as she tried finding a hiding spot. She found safety in one of the stalls in the ladies' room, where she curled up and whimpered, hoping her parents would find her soon. Her left arm hung limp, as her elbow had swollen to the size of a large orange.
Even Nell was filled with genuine concern, and against her better judgment, made her way to the back of the arcade to make sure Anastasia was safe, but never in her wildest dreams had she figured Anastasia to be the one responsible for the chaos. Her mouth dropped as she saw a tall, burly man with a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt leading Anastasia out of the arcade… this couldn't be real.
Nell bolted toward Anastasia and the burly manager as fast as she could, doing her best to sidestep the occasional skee ball and shards of broken glass that littered the floor. The manager took notice of Nell, and gave her a look so cold, it could freeze a hundred-foot deep lake. "Do you know this girl, miss?" he asked in a deep voice that sounded quite accusatory.
Nell took a look at her distraught sister. Anastasia's cheeks were stained with tear streaks; her hair was a disheveled mess. And the manager was so intimidating that Nell could scarcely find the courage to speak. She nodded, before squeaking, "She's my sister, sir."
The manager had a tight grip on Anastasia's bicep. He glared at Anastasia, before giving the same look to Nell. He slowly released the grip. "Take your sister home, miss," he snarled. "I'll be speaking to the owner shortly. Rest assured, your parents will be receiving a most unpleasant call from her tomorrow once we've properly assessed the damage." He lowered his voice to an ominous rasp. "I don't believe this is the work of criminal mischief, but I promise she won't be allowed on our property again." He pointed toward the exit door. "Get out of my sight, the both of you, before I change my mind about levying criminal charges."
"I told you not to embarrass me," whispered Nell as she led Anastasia outside. Anastasia stole a glance at her older sister – Nell was near tears herself. "Don't tell me what happened," she said in a quiet, shaky voice that Anastasia had never heard before. "I don't think I want to know."
