TN_Chapter 15.
30th August – 2nd September 1993
(almost 16)
As the curses plummeted into the gate and her brother's body went rigid mid-air, Anne had the incomprehensible impression that a switch clicked sideways inside her head. It made everything suddenly very slow and simple.
She was painfully aware of how Caleb's face distorted into mute agony while the unnatural hue of yellowish-green light encompassed him. She also felt his scream and terror. They both came much sooner than the unbearable pain. But there was also that old part of her, the almost forgotten child behind the rosebush who used to stare at the Dark Mark as mesmerized and fascinated as she now observed Caleb's midsection bloating and his skin waving as if something was crawling under it.
By the time the wall around the gate spewed shreds of brick and stone from the detonation the missed curses caused, that terrified yet fascinated child was already invisible and crunching under her brother in a shadowy fold of the building.
"Scabior!"
When Anne heard the yell, she first believed it was a nasty curse she hadn't heard about. But the consequential hurried footsteps and two quick cracks of Apparation convinced her otherwise. She was too afraid to risk showing herself, only blindly touched after her wand in her backpack until she managed to fish it out, losing precious seconds. She already knew two ways to go by this horror.
She Accio-ed her brother's body into the niche and promptly moved over Caleb, not bothering to dismiss her involuntary Concealment Charm.
Visibly an abdominal injury – she noted for herself. That was written in light blue with her gel pen. Abdominal Injuries – visible pain; pale and clammy skin. She touched, then checked. Bleeding from nose, anus, or genitals. SHIT! Was she really supposed to… Anne checked her brother's nose and trousers. They seemed intact, and she decided to return to them if needed. Laboured or noisy breathing – she leaned closer, and her heart squeezed with worry – check. Tenderness, bruising – she lifted Caleb's tee shirt, check, check; swelling – check; protruding intestines – Oh, for fuck's sake, they were crawling upwards!
One of the Muggle lecturers had once suggested she should breathe through her nose when she was too worried. That helped. What to do? That was at the bottom of the page….
Comfortable position! Yes. Placing his shoes under his head, she raised Caleb's upper body and flexed his knees as she learned to relieve stress from the abdomen. Next was to wrap the intestines… Hell, she already had an inkling she was supposed to stop their crawling, but somehow, plastic wraps didn't seem to be the answer! She pulled out the shawl she used to cover the parts her sundress left too revealing for the wizarding world, cast Aquamenti to wet it, then wrapped her brother as tightly into it as she dared. What more? Yes, search for other injuries and seek professional aid!
The St. Mungo's signal!
Anne held her wand as high as she could reach, and she cried the incantations the mediwitch hammered into them: "Promptum Auxilium St. Mungo!" "Promptum Auxilium Auror Department Ministry of Magic!"
While she waited, she ran through all she'd learnt in St Mungo's, but the trainees didn't get any practical education there. Theory and cleaning charms didn't help now… however…
"Signa Vitalis!"
Anne felt a modicum of calm washing over her when the usual medical charm levitated above her brother. She didn't understand much of the signs, but Caleb's magic seemed untouched, and his heartbeat seemed adequate for the circumstances. As soon as she could gather that, a series of Apparitions cracked the air on the street. Two young wizards ran sideways, ensuring no Muggles would observe the procedure, and two others in St. Mungo's uniform rushed toward Caleb. She belatedly realized she had probably better let them see her if she didn't wish to part with her brother and cast a hasty Finite Incantatem, which unfortunately ceased the scanning charm with her Concealment.
After a series of questions and a raised eyebrow from one of the Mediwizards, Caleb was on a stretcher whisked towards the Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and a young Auror, who introduced himself as Perkins, offered to Side-Along Apparate Anne after them, so she could testify under more comfortable circumstances.
The route to the hospital was short, and she didn't mind the inconvenience. She only wished to follow her brother. When Auror Perkins learned she was a minor, he hurriedly excused himself to owl to her parents, and Anne hastened through corridors in a frenzy to find out something about Caleb. However, when she finally found the right room, all she could achieve was a peek at a bunch of busy mediwitches and wizards before somebody shut the door on her curious nose.
Anne stood alone on St. Mungo's Magical Accidents and Catastrophes corridor, terrified and perplexed. What the hell had just happened? The afternoon, even the evening, or finding Caleb almost at their Gran's doorstep, seemed like a year had passed. A lifetime. Because now she felt as if this were a whole new era, markedly different from everything she'd ever known, possibly an era without Caleb. Which was the worst joke, really, because how could the world possibly go around without him being there?
Until now, she erroneously believed that bad things were those of a distant past, or if they still happened, they happened to others. She had somehow lured herself into believing she had already served her piece of suffering the cruel face of life because the Carrow girls' mocking and taunting, even her re-occurring fear of madness, was nothing compared to staring at floor tiles again while somebody was screaming their agony.
Someone who shouldn't.
When Marcus Dagworth walked by the corridor, she didn't see him. She didn't even recognize him when he decided to turn and walk up to her. Truthfully, she wasn't sure about their acquaintance when he even stared into her face, talking – whatever he said. She couldn't make out his words amidst the half-thoughts and swirling emotions, but she could sense and recognize his tact, curiosity, and worry. It wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to worry for her!
"My brother," – she pointed towards the door. "My brother is inside there."
Apprentice Dagworth initially seemed surprised, then only nodded, and entered the room. Anne hoped he would do something. There was no one else to hope something from. There was no one else she knew and trusted. There was no one to rely upon, to look for a solution… and then it hit her. Gavin once said it was all happening because they were not at Hogwarts anymore.
Because however annoying, raw, and decidedly callous, Professor Snape was at Hogwarts. She wished he was at St. Mungo's instead! Because then there would be a maybe abrasive and demanding, but at least firm, layer between her and the horrors of reality.
She gasped in a near sob because she had never felt more alone. Neither had she felt more guilty. Whoever cursed Caleb probably attacked them because of whatever her aunt had done at the Ministry. And she wouldn't have moved a finger if she hadn't gone against the wishes of her father, her brothers, and all of her promises and told her everything.
Caleb also said he'd been waiting for her for hours. If she hadn't eaten that cold pizza, or if she hadn't encouraged Paul… or just hadn't agreed to meet him in the first place… Would those people have found them the same if she'd been where she was supposed to be?
"Effie?""
She surprisedly noticed that Marcus Dagworth leaned over her, trying to search her eyes.
Don't look anyone in the eye!
Anne's mental forest popped into action, and the trees hid away most of her thoughts in a blink. It cleared her mind in a peculiar way, similar to when that impossible switch had clicked before. She was attentive. She was detached.
"Have you seen him?"
"He is in bad shape." Apprentice Dagworth nodded. "Are you calm enough to hear the details?"
"Yes," – she said, almost surprising herself with the confidence in her voice. As if she saw herself from a distance, with the corridor's walls, the Apprentice, and the floor tiles. She waited.
"Whatever curse hit him was aimed at his intestines. It compelled them to break from the body and suffocate the victim. Is he really your brother?"
Anne stared at him, uncomprehending. "Why?"
"Because such a curse was forged to torture. The death is not imminent as the caster intends to inflict agony and fear."
It was most peculiar, but Anne felt that switch clicking into second gear, and she could almost hear her heartbeat slowing down and her head filling with ice.
"Will he die?"
Dagworth sighed and peeked at the door. "It's too early to tell. Mediwizard Camden is a practiced Healer who did his training during the war when You-know-who and his followers used dark curses daily. He is cautiously optimistic. Although… he is perplexed by the treatment the patient had received before he took over." He searched her eyes again, but Anne didn't feel the touch of a Legilimens.
"Effie, have you seen what happened? Do you know who had wrapped the boy?"
"Yes," – Anne swallowed the memories of fright that threatened to surface. "It was me."
Dagworth stepped back and looked her over. "What made you do that? Where have you learned this?"
"It-" After short consideration, Anne decided that honestly might help save her brother. Dagworth didn't seem to know who she truly was anyway. "It is a Muggle practice. I'm a half-blood."
Saying the words felt unexpectedly relieving.
"Good job then, Trainee," – Apprentice Dagworth smirked. "Whoever he is, he is lucky to know you. You've given Camden a chance to save his life."
Anne nodded with an expression Dagworth might have seen as thoughtful, but her attention flew miles away. Now that she had hope, she remembered Gavin was still at the Ministry. If someone wished to torture Caleb, Gavin might also be in danger!
"I need to send an owl," – she said and turned to find her way to the owl house on the rooftop, and Marcus Dagworth let her go with a shake of his head.
However, the owls had to wait because as soon as she turned from the corridor to reach the staircase, Monty Rosier erupted from the opening lift with a swirling cloud of fright and fury. Anne recognized his chaotic thoughts before he saw her, so it didn't take her as a surprise when he jumped at her with his eager question:
"Where is he?!"
She didn't wince at the lack of even a greeting. Their father might have been a rebel in his youth, but he still recognized the importance of an heir.
"This way," – she showed him to the closed door, deliberately touching the air around her father, masochistically searching for the slightest hint of accusation or reproach, but she couldn't find any. Not even when she related all that Apprentice Dagworth shared just minutes before.
The sole emotion she could detect after that was despair, which was also muted when Auror Perkins approached and her father's attention turned to him. Outrage, Anne noted before Monty spoke.
"You didn't mention it was a dark curse!" – he accused Perkins before he could speak. "How dare you let me believe this was an accident?!"
Perkins pulled his neck shorter and seemed perplexed momentarily, looking at the door. "We couldn't be certain, Mr. Rosier, I still need your permission to record your daughter's testimony –"
"You will not record a thing! What makes you even ask?"
"Sir, I believe it is already clear that your children were together at the time of the event. I am obliged to repeat my request, Mr. Rosier. Please give your permission to record your daughter's testimony for the sake of the investigation. The Auror Department needs –"
"The Auror Department may stuff your request where the sun never shines!"
"But sir –"
"My daughter will not speak to you. She is a minor whom I will not expose to a possible hearing before the Wizengamot, even as a witness! When you will land that scoundrel in the prisoner's chair -"
"Scoundrels," – Anne softly said, surprising both men beside her.
"Were there more than one attacker?" – Perkins readily turned to her, but Monty stepped in his way.
"You are to talk to me, Anabella. It's not our fault if someone overhears you on a narrow corridor."
Auror Perkins nodded with a hint of satisfaction, and Anne gathered her courage to speak up again.
"Caleb was waiting for me… where he usually waits when I returned from my walk. He said he waited for hours. I was… preoccupied."
"A witch must have found the Muggle part of town confusing," – Monty interjected.
"It was… diverting?" – Anne tried to catch his cue. She only went on when her father nodded. "I was late, and we quarrelled."
"He doesn't like waiting," – Monty encouraged her.
"He said he was threatened at the Ministry," – Anne went on with a question in her gaze.
Monty shook his head slightly. "Hearsay. He never liked waiting."
"No, never," – Anne nodded with a frown.
"Tell me about the attack," – Monty prompted.
"It was sudden. It came almost midsentence. He was speaking, and then three curses… an orange and a red one hit the wall, and a yellowish green one hit Caleb. I was… unseen… be-behind him."
"He must have hidden you," – Monty offered.
"Must have," – Anne agreed. "I felt his…" – she cleared her throat – "I saw his agony… on his face, and he levitated in a glow. Then, when he collapsed, I heard someone shouting 'Scabior' and then footsteps. Then there were two cracks of Apparitions down on the street."
"Who cast the emergency call?" – Auror Perkins asked, addressing Monty.
For the slight move of her father's questioning eyebrow, Anne replied: "I did."
"Miss Rosier's wand hasn't been used in the past couple of weeks, and we found young Mr. Rosier's wand broken at the scene."
Anne gaped at her father, trying to come up with an explanation or guess at his advice. There was none but a stinging glance he directed at Perkins.
"My colleagues have already contacted the Underage Magic Department. The Trace hasn't registered any violation of the Underage Law," – the Auror explained almost apologetically.
Anne let her eyes fall, and she examined the floor tiles again in utter confusion. Then she peeked at her father with sudden fright. She hadn't used the maple wand for ages! Was she to confess now that she'd gone against his wishes ever since he had chosen her first wand for her?
"I used Caleb's wand. I can't recall how it might have been broken… There was a tumult when the Aurors and the Mediwizards came. Also, his body collapsed on the street. It could break any time… I knew I mustn't do magic… I wouldn't dream about pulling my wand, and his was right there to call for help!"
"She has a right to use a wand in desperate need," – her father pointed out to the Auror.
"Of course, sir, I wouldn't question that!" - Strangely, Perkins sounded as if he wouldn't hesitate to question other parts of the story if he was just given a chance.
He wasn't.
While Anne screamed inside, realizing that the ebony wand was most likely unregistered, her father finished the business in his most eloquent pureblood-member-of-the-Wizengamot tone.
Sweet, daring Nimue, she could have used her wand all summer! Wait, wouldn't they recognize she did all her training without lifting a wand? Drifting with the waves of guilt and fright, she hardly registered when the men ceased talking above her head, only when her father nudged her, leaning close to her ear:
"Anabella, what had really happened?"
She looked around, but the Auror was gone. They stood alone in the corridor.
"Caleb said he saw Aunt Duvessa at the Ministry. She must have done something to Lucinda Talkalot because Mr. Malfoy later threatened Caleb in the dining hall that he should keep her poison-making relatives away or investigate their dealings as a member of the MLE."
"What the hell does Lucius Malfoy have to do about Duvessa's idiocy?" – Monty fumed in a subdued voice, but not with less outrage. "Killing that harlot was her favourite daydream in these past fifteen years. She should have dreamed on for some decades to come!"
Anne tried to believe that his words meant what she thought she understood. Her father lifted her face by the chin to look into her eyes.
"What is that you're not telling? Get it out!"
"I- Caleb… Gavin told me that Lucinda wanted Caleb to… well, intimately… and then Lucius Malfoy… he offered… he talked about her with Caleb… about what witches like her like… then Caleb struggled. I – I didn't mean to talk to Duvessa. Still, she came to the Fawleys, and Lucinda's name came up. I got frightened, and I asked her what to do…"
"You talked about all of this in the presence of the Fawleys?!"
"No! Papa, no! I– I ran after her... followed Duvessa when she was to leave, and… she said she knew what to do."
Monty let her chin go with a huff, and he emitted such a strange mix of dark emotion Anne had not the courage to look up at him.
"Did– Did she kill that witch, father?"
Monty's hand returned to her chin with such a strong grab it hurt. "I will not hear you say such a thing aloud, d'you understand me?" Maybe for the first time in her life, Anne noticed he almost growled.
She tried to nod in his painful grab.
"Good. Now you will keep quiet about the whole matter, or Merlin so help me…." He never finished what he had in mind, Anne supposed even he didn't know, but she nodded again anyway, promising silence. It was easier now that he let her go. And she also meant it. Even in her wildest nightmare, she wouldn't have thought she could have a hand in someone's perish. Did that make her accomplice? Did that make her a killer?
An unexplainable recess of her mind began to whisper something about Amelia and the absurdity of life. Maybe if she hadn't told her classmates about her first-ever friend, or if she had known sooner about the gossip around Snape, maybe… just maybe, she wouldn't have lost that friendship for all that was Slytherin. Because to imagine Miranda and Sophie one day gossiping above a tea and badmouthing other girls from the House – like the Carrows, in which case she would even agree with them – was as easy as recalling Eleonore and Duvessa discussing Lucinda or Narcissa Malfoy's frugal ball.
Another uninvited thought was about the floor tiles, which she used to count and memorize in her childhood while Death Eaters were writhing on them, and these ones at St. Mungo's, which held her now. At the same time, she felt all her understanding of who she was and who her acquaintance could be crumbling down. She promised herself then and there that if she'd ever got through her childhood in a way that landed her in her own house, that would have floorboards. Long, linear floorboards. Running parallel.
She missed the moments when Monty scribbled something on a piece of parchment, stopped someone in St. Mungo's uniform, and gave him a Galleon to post his missive by an owl. But she was quite aware of the moment when Gavin arrived and talked to their father. She recognized his guilt when he apologized to his father for telling his sister anything, and she surmised she was untrustworthy.
Actually worse. She was an idiot and a fool, running around like a headless chicken, telling people things about whatever she momentarily thought might help her. About Amelia's letter. About Lucinda and Caleb. She had endangered her Gran and her Great Aunt, being attacked in front of their house, her mother, and thus her family's secret and her safety, Caleb, of course, but also Gavin, possibly Duvessa, who might have been already on the run… or was she? She didn't know, but she understood that she was a threat.
Her tears only began to flow when Gavin touched her arm. She was unworthy of his sympathy, yet she couldn't refuse it. She had no idea how long she was sobbing when her brother held her, just like she didn't know how long they waited after her tears dried. But eventually, the door opened, and the family could see Caleb sleeping gently on a hospital bed.
The room was full of anxious energy. Agony, hope, struggle, darkness… she tried to touch her brother's emotions, but those were hazy. Caleb must have been under the influence of several potions and calming draughts, probably painkillers, too, because he didn't suffer from anything. He was unnaturally calm and horribly tired. But she finally felt she could have a full breath.
When Monty sent them home, Anne wasn't surprised. She didn't deserve that much, if anything. But Gavin didn't mind Apparating her to their Muggle relatives while he undertook to inform their mother. Anne couldn't imagine facing her. It was all her fault.
The next morning Rachel woke her, and Anne was first blissfully unaware of the horrible mess. She only felt exhaustion and a mild headache, which was no wonder after she cried herself into sleep… and that pulled her back to the world with recent memories.
"Dear, you'd better dress and eat," – Rachel informed her. "Your boyfriend called and asked why you weren't in the Park yet."
Anne added one more item to her guilt list: she should never have forgotten Paul, especially not after last afternoon. "Did you tell him?"
Rachel shook her head. "I told him there was an accident, and you'd tell him all in an hour."
Anne sat up in her bed. "I– I can't! I really can't!"
Rachel looked at her with a hint of pity. "It's your life and your boyfriend, Anne. But I think you should." She caressed her niece's hair, which told how unusual the circumstances were. Affection normally came from her Gran, not Rachel. "Get dressed," – she repeated and left the room.
Anne could hear her fumbling in the kitchen, probably with her breakfast. She didn't deserve breakfast. She was horrible! Instead of following her, she chose her grandmother. Rose was sitting around in her small room, staring out of the window like most times nowadays. It was harder to feel her emotions or any detectable intentions with every passing week.
Anne crunched down by her chair and leaned her head in her lap, hoping for comfort like when she was a little girl. Rose's fingers found a way through her hair, and she knew she was smiling by the rhythm of her caresses.
"You're growing into a handsome woman, Sara," – she said. "I wish you wore nicer dresses!"
She kept caressing Anne's hair, and she enjoyed the love pouring down on her.
"I drew again last night," – Rose mentioned later. "Would you like to see it?"
Anne nodded with eyes closed under her gentle hand, then forced her eyes open to find the sketchbook.
"What did you draw?" – she asked, handing it to her grandmother.
"You,"- Rose smiled proudly. "You're the most beautiful thing I have ever dreamt about."
Anne suspected she meant Sara again. Her mother used to be the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen in a photo, and she was still pretty in her dreamy way. Anne could never imagine herself even resembling her. She wasn't lean, fair-haired, or graceful like her mother. Her breasts intruded into her life and space and merely served to make her school robe show her sturdy. But she loved the fact that Gran loved her mother. It felt so right.
"Here," – Rose finally found the drawings she wished to show her. "I so wish to see you in one of these one days!"
Anne peeked into the sketchbook, and the smile froze on her lips. It wasn't her mum! The young woman Rose drew looked instead like her! And she wore dresses she would blush even to try! Those were shapely, showing off her alleged beauty without shame. The cut of the skirts made her short thighs look longer, the shape of the tops made her look mature and alluring, and her face – the gaze her grandmother drew for her looked so confident and calm! She wished she had ever looked the way she saw her!
"Gran, I did a horrible thing!" – Anne burst out, fighting back her tears.
"Did you hurt someone with it?" – Rose asked back in a childishly soft and high tone.
Anne nodded, and her tears finally escaped.
"Did you mean it?"
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.
Rose caressed her cheek and smiled at her. "Then you'll be fine. We are all horrible sometimes. Even your father."
Anne suspected it was likely her grandfather, and she wished they could talk more deeply and with awareness she remembered Rose once had.
"I'm so sorry, Gran!"
"That's a good girl," – she assured her. "See, I'm not angry! Now look at this one!" – she pointed at one of her pictures. "I'd love to see you in this! Will you promise me I would?"
"I promise," – Anne whispered, swallowing her tears, and hugged her until Rachel came to take her for breakfast.
Paul faithfully waited in the Park and hushed her apologies for being late. They crossed the Town mostly in silence. She only told him that her brother got hurt. It seemed enough for Paul to understand her worry, and when she hugged him after watering the plants, his sympathy and care enveloped her.
Paul's clean emotions made her ready to shove all her darkest musings into a corner of her mind, at least as long as he hugged her. And she wanted him to hug her for uncounted times! Making love with him felt like reaching an island on stormy waters. All the hurt, guilt, and pain were kept outside of his innocent arms. Anne never was more grateful for attention and kindness, and Paul was probably the kindest person she had ever known.
The owl that pecked the window pushed her back harshly into reality, and she felt like a liar for chuckling with the boy about the awkwardness of seeing such a bird by noon while she was trying to figure out a way to get rid of it. The only thing that came to mind without using a wand and risking betraying herself was to play her part now, return later, turn time, and lure the bird away. As soon as she decided to do that, the owl flew down from the window towards the street. Paul found it peculiar.
However, this was their last day together, so she followed the boy, held his hand, and tried to laugh at his jokes until they returned to the Park and said their hundred goodbyes. Anne almost returned to her relatives when she remembered to retrieve that owl. She turned back the time and stole under the window. Holding out its leg, the owl flew to her on the softest call.
Caleb's awake
– said the message in Gavin's hand, and Anne raced through the traffic to get back to St. Mungo's at a break-neck pace. Exhaustion was part of the shock when she saw her weak and pale brother lying on the hospital bed. Gavin was talking nonsense standing next to him, which would have driven Caleb up the wall under any other circumstances.
"Where have you been?" – he turned to Anne, and even Caleb raised a lazy eyebrow.
"Walking with friends…" – she told them. Then she remembered her last conversation with Caleb, and last night's shock returned to her. "Caleb, will you ever forgive me?"
He wasn't strong enough to talk, but she could sense his annoyance as he peeked at Gavin.
"Yeah, well," – Gavin looked around the tiny room and closed the door after a moment of hesitation. "Father may return anytime, but I think you should know… The Sports and Games Department guys paid what they owed to Caleb. It's not as much as his debts, but I took it."
Anne's confused glance alternated between her brothers. She could feel their amusement and couldn't make any sense of it!
"What does that mean?" – she asked.
Caleb's eyes narrowed, he nodded a little, and Gavin grinned at him.
"A-bee, I know you freaked out, but it's not all that horrible now that Caleb survived… Seems we are perceived now a little stronger."
"Showing fangs and claws," – Anne recalled Mr. Filch's words. "We should still be careful," – she remembered to add.
"Well, it's five hundred, and the change and I can scratch together about two hundred more," – Gavin counted. When Caleb turned his head slowly from side to side, he shrugged. "It's not a sin. I would rather see you free, and even if A-bee is a menace, she at least tried to do something about it. Look," – he went on, heating up to argue. Now that Caleb couldn't talk him down, he seemed to seize the chance to speak his mind. "I know Aunty was a tad over the top, but honestly, what did they expect? Perhaps Father doesn't like to act out, and I don't think we should, but I'd rather have them fear us than pull my tail and stick to my place, don't you?"
Caleb stared at them. Anne could sense his annoyance and fear.
"Well, I spared about nine hundred," – she announced. "With the homework thing and my allowance," – she shrugged when they stared at her. "I don't spend much. Of course, that's still not two thousand," – Anne noted with a hint of an apologetic smile. "But Miranda and Sophie are convinced we might win some prize with our brew, and in that case… we would only lack about a hundred Galleons."
Caleb slowly shook his head again.
"What's gotten into you? I know you want them off your back, too!" – Gavin almost yelled at him. You wouldn't owe us. We are not family like aunt and father. We are real. We don't care." He peeked at Anne. "We don't, do we?"
"That's the least after we all have to worry about Duvessa," – she thought.
"Father wants us not to mention her. We are not close, and even if she hated that witch, no one saw her harm her. Even you only think she did it because of what Malfoy told you!"
"True," – Caleb grunted out in a raspy voice.
"You should rest," – Gavin told him, reminded of his brother's fragile state. "This whole mess isn't worth it. And you heard Smarty-Pants, we'll pay it back, and it will all go away."
Caleb turned his head to the sides again but didn't try to talk anymore. Anne silently agreed with him. She didn't believe either that it could just "all go away." But why annoy Gavin? She surmised he must have guessed it, too.
The air about Gavin felt confused and undecided anyway. As if his emotions and thoughts were in such turmoil, he wouldn't be sure of what he was about to think or do. He had always been second behind Caleb, and Anne realized how hard it must be for him to plan for them now. She could also sense that it was important. Remembering his embrace from the night before, she pulled Gavin closer and tried to comfort him, and strangely, it gave back some of her sinking self-esteem. Caleb was annoyed, but the boys didn't fault her. It was enough that she faulted herself.
"You won't want to see Father. I'd better take you home," – Gavin stepped back after a few minutes, and when they tried to say goodbye to Caleb, he was already asleep.
Anne packed her trunk but refrained from shrinking it. She supposed Gavin would return the next day to take her to King's Cross, but Monty appeared instead at Rachel's doorstep, all short words and furrowed brows. Rachel tried inviting Anne for the winter break, but her father refused all attempts at discussing the future.
He Side-Along Apparated his daughter, and before the dizziness cleared up, Anne heard his words: "If I get wind of it – and you rest assured I will, sooner or later – that you encouraged this relationship any further, I will not be responsible for the consequences."
Anne hardly saw anything else, but his mad eyes, and she tried to guess what Duvessa might have told him. Or anyone else for as much as she knew….
"I understand," – she answered softly because meekness always paid off when it came to her father. His dark satisfaction pulsed in the air, questioning everything Anne had ever thought she knew about this man. Then Monty turned away, and she recognized the waiting room in St. Mungo's atrium with a gasp.
If she was tempted to ask what they were supposed to do there moments before the Hogwarts Express was due to leave Kings Cross, Monty didn't wait to hear it. He walked through the hall and called the lift, taking for granted that his daughter followed.
"Caleb was exhausted and slept about twelve hours after you left him. I know you've both been here yesterday. Whatever you've done to him, you are not to repeat it!" – he warned Anne before he opened the ward's door.
Anne was almost afraid to look at her brother, but he lifted a hand, showing so much more strength than she had seen a day before. She hurried to his side and took it.
"Sit with me," – Caleb asked her. His voice was less raspy, too.
Anne looked at her father, and he conjured her a chair. She had sense enough not to ask about Hogwarts. Poppy would be devastated if she didn't return; maybe Filch would send an owl someday, but she doubted others would notice. Well, not before the exams, she supposed. She never thought she would get away without being punished in the first place.
Caleb watched her silently, and she had nothing to say while Monty sat with them. About an hour must have passed when someone knocked at the door, handed their father some parchments, and mentioned an owl post. He set to read it in the room.
Caleb flashed Anne a questioning glance, pointing at their father only with a look.
She shook her head lightly.
Caleb's eyes rounded out, and his lips pulled into an annoyed grimace.
She shrugged helplessly and shook her head again.
The parchment rustled, so they both stared down, then at Monty. A minute later, Caleb spoke up and complained of being thirsty.
"Anabella, fetch a cup of water, I'm preoccupied," – she heard her father.
With cheeks reddened by embarrassment, she walked out of the room to find someone in St. Mungo's staff with so much idle time on their hands to be convinced to come to conjure a bloody glass and cast an Aquamenti.
Anne began to fume.
Maybe her father had something on his mind, and obviously, Caleb had something else on his, but she wasn't ready to throw her hard-earned good reputation to the wind just to play along. Yes, she was a horrible witch, but at least she could one day do something to right it if she managed to stick here. She stood in an alcove, pulled her ebony wand, and filled a cup with water.
Caleb drank. Monty finished reading. A nurse offered lunch for the invalid, and Monty bought them tea on the fifth floor. Anne prayed not to run into Apprentice Dagworth!
Hours passed, and she still had no idea what Caleb truly wanted because their father wouldn't leave for a second. Should she attempt Legilimency? That would be the day! Snape would shit kittens if he knew she even lamented something that obvious in front of Montgomery Rosier! Perhaps she should just mention that too to her dearest Aunt Duvessa?
In the afternoon, Caleb began to play harder. He begged for tea, for Anne to read to him sitting closer, and he winced when the parchment rustled too loudly. Monty put up a silencing charm, and he worked some more. In the room.
Two more owl posts later, Monty finally had to reply, and when he tried to send Anne to the owl house, Caleb begged again to let her read some more.
With a strict glance and a grumble, Monty finally left them alone in the room.
"It's under my pillow, take it!" – Caleb hissed urgently.
Anne stared at her brother first, but when she felt his annoyance, she reached under the pillow. The sack she pulled out was heavy and noisy. The clinking reverberated on the empty walls.
"Ssssshhh! Charm it!" – Caleb commanded.
Anne peeked at the closed door and pulled the ebony wand. "What shall I–"
"The Feather Light Charm. And silence it!" – Caleb demanded.
"Levis Plumae! Silencio! Caleb, what the hell–"
"Hide it!"
Later she admitted it showed what a green fool she was, but first, Anne tried to push that damned thing back under the pillow.
"Under your robe, you silly cow!" – Caleb hissed again. "A-bee, I can't believe you passed as a Slytherin in your first year!"
"Sorry," – she gabbled and tied the sack into her skirt's pocket with another charm. It was safely hidden under her robe. "What's going on?"
"Gavin," – Caleb began before the door opened and silenced his explanation. "I will miss you when you leave for Hogwarts tomorrow," – he told her instead.
"Tomorrow?" – Anne turned her questioning glance at her father.
"Caleb wished for your company," – Monty told her. "You don't need to suffer her absence, son. If you wish, your sister may stay with you."
Caleb smiled. "And what will she have to entertain me? I can't bear another page of her silly book," – he yawned and let their father chuckle with some relief. His son was finally making jokes again. Like some years before, when they were yet to quarrel. Anne felt his regrets and love for her brother, which was genuine, at least.
"A-bee, will you write instead? Long letters, so I can have some fun,"- Caleb pushed his luck.
"Sure," – she promised with a smile. "But you don't need to worry. Gavin will visit you daily if I know him at all." When she saw Caleb shaking his head, it was too late.
"I sent him home, and there he will remain. You all will learn discipline. Better late than never," – Monty boomed.
Anne sensed a glint of amusement from Caleb, and she wished she understood him. "He asked for a holiday from the Beast Department. I hope he can enjoy it too," – her brother explained.
She stared at him questioningly and judging by Caleb's smirk and nod, Kelly must have been back in the village with poor, punished Gavin.
"My first letter will be about Snapey's rage when he discovers I missed the Sorting and the Feast," – she stared out the window to hide her smirk.
"You'd better show more respect talking about your House's Head, young lady!" – Monty warned her, but at least he stood and opened the door. "It won't take long. I will be back before your dinner," – he promised his son, and Anne wouldn't have been surprised even seeing him tucking Caleb in! After she apologized, her father led her away, grabbed her arm at the first opportunity, and spun away with her.
This time, the dizziness of the Side-Along Apparition didn't fade. Only cold swept into it. Bone-chilling, soul-wrenching cold, the kind that made it hard to think and put all memories of a sunny day beyond reach. Anne searched for her father's eyes, terrified of something that might have gone wrong, but she couldn't perceive his emotions.
Monty's eyes glazed over, his face paled, and his temples broke sweat as the chill swept over them. "You must think about something good," – he mumbled, but Anne doubted if that was what he'd been doing.
"Are you all right, father?"
While Monty nodded with hardship and herded her closer to the Hogwarts gates, Anne's mind overflew with memories of seeing him so pale. Like in his anger this morning or his fright just a day before. Or when he came down from the Leaky Cauldron's private rooms, sometimes with unsteady steps, or when she hid behind the bushes and spied him giving himself helplessly to terror.
The memory of that terror pushed forth other memories. It suddenly seemed as if all the trunks and boxes she had ever filled with whatever she wasn't ready to think through just popped open, one after another, and the waste flooded her mind…. Uncle Evan wanted to hurt her… the puppy… Duvessa, who made her a killer too… Caleb's body glowing in greenish light could have been the killing curse, and she wouldn't have him now!
"Think about something good!" – Monty grumbled again, shaking her by a shoulder with one hand and tapping his wand onto the gates in the greatest hurry with another. "Haven't you learned about Dementors?"
Anne gaped at him dumbly, and then she turned.
Thorn blackened robes glided in the air behind them, seemingly empty until one or another withered closer, and a scabby grey bony hand reached for them. Anne felt the pull towards their hoods, like a draught towards their darkness which was made to fall through that nothing…. Non-beings… the word finally made sense, she distantly realized that was what she was supposed to become… losing identity…. connection…. There wasn't anything to link her to this horrible life anyway…. She was horrible enough. She deserved to see how the foulness of the creature mirrored what was left of her soul….
Before she could fall into the gust of slurping windy emptiness, a light so bright she winced and recoiled jumped between her and that horrible lack of a face! Her ears suddenly filled with noises, and her wish for an escape awoke. She heard herself screaming but couldn't remember taking a breath to shout…. A strong arm encircled her waist and pulled her through the gates, only pushing her to the ground when the iron clicked behind her, and she began to retch.
"Lass, time to get up," – she heard the dearest sound of a friend's voice rustling out of a man, smelling tobacco and fish and home. She noticed an old hand, a little shaky and pale enough to show the veins, reaching out for her, and she grabbed it.
"Th-thank you, Mr. Filch," – she panted, but the old man shook his head.
"I wish, but it wasn't my doing."
Anne turned, following his gaze, and saw her House Head glancing after that bright light with a curious expression.
"Time to go," – Snape pulled his robes tighter and marched them up the hill.
"Thank you, Professor," – Anne began again when she was far enough to trust her voice, grateful for Filch's arm that didn't falter under her hand. "I'm sorry I'm late."
"The school has received your father's owl, Miss Rosier. I'm surprised you joined us at all," – Snape grumbled without any hint of friendliness or recognition of their previous dealings. "You may mention when you next see him that students are not objects of delivery to haphazardly drop them by the gates. This must have been a lesson. Now give me your portkey!"
Anne halted mid-stride. Probably to both of her companions' annoyance, she couldn't even bring herself to care.
"My- but Professor, we Apparated!"
Seeing Snape's eyes shining up with the glint of true fright was the surest way for one to feel their blood freeze in their veins. Anne couldn't even gasp or stare. She heard his voice as if it came from another realm.
"Argus, take her to Poppy and don't let either of them run around!"
Mr. Filch nodded with pragmatism and grabbed Anne's arm, whisking her away before she could ask what the hell. It was unimaginable that Snape voluntarily returned to those monsters, yet she also couldn't fathom where her father could vanish.
The rest was a blur. Empty halls and corridors, Mr. Filch's arm, and Mrs. Norris' sudden presence under her legs. She almost tripped, but the Infirmary door opened, and Poppy Pomfrey ran to take hold of her. There was chocolate and hushed discussions, and her head was spinning with it all…. Finally, Mrs. Norris jumped on her bed and made herself comfortable curling into her lap. She reached to pet her ears absently, which gave back the sense of being present that she thoroughly lacked ever since they had left the St. Mungo's.
"Where is my father?" – she looked up at Poppy and Mr. Filch, stopping their droning conference.
"Might well be where it's safe already," – Filch tried to assure her. "Your Professor is needed at the Great Hall, too. News can be slow to come."
"It still wouldn't have gone amiss for him to send a word for better or worse," – Poppy deemed. Anne had the impression she somehow reignited some argument the two might have had before she returned to coherence.
Mr Filch's lips curled when he looked at the mediwitch. "Could have as well stayed on his good side if you expected favours, don't you think?"
Poppy huffed and turned away to disappear into her office. Filch slowly blinked with both eyes like his cat would have shown reassurance and affection. Anne understood his wish to reassure her but also felt his weariness. Strangely, this was the first thing she could sense in another since her father grabbed her arm to Side-Along her to the school.
It didn't seem to be a good idea to recall her experiences with the Dementors, but her mind was yet to calm, and nothing felt right. Perhaps she shouldn't have neglected those meditations. Anne looked around at the familiarly safe Infirmary and recalled the breathing techniques Madame Pince had taught her. When she felt calm enough, she retreated to her mind's house.
The woods around it looked like a storm had mindlessly reorganized the trees. Some lay with trunks twisted from the ground, others shattered as if by lightning, and the branches wore no leaves. It was a pitiful sight even before she assessed the damage to her inner home. The house, once built up tall with high windows and a chandelier in the main room, now didn't look more than a dilapidated cabin. She set out to repair it the best she could.
Good and bad memories lay scattered on the floor. Pictures of fright, dreams, and pleasure lay in broken frames and dispersed with the notes of all she'd learned throughout the summer. The windows rarely let the light through. Anne crumbled down with a sigh and got to work.
While Mr. Filch helped her abandoned body lie back on the Infirmary bed, her inner self was so busy reordering the mess she didn't even recognize his presence. For the first time since she began her meditations, it didn't seem to be the right approach to shove all her fears and bad memories into various trucks and boxes. If there was one thing she learned from Duvessa, it was the need to see life with the bad and dangerous added to the better parts.
How on earth had she ever imagined to come to a good decision when she hid half of her knowledge and observations even from herself? The inside of her mind's house had to expand to accommodate it all. The notes about Muggle and wizarding theories found place again on her shelves: biology, first aid, Poppy's Infirmary practice, some parts of the Chemistry book she remembered Filch pilfered for her use from somewhere last year, the St. Mungo's practice, and her own experience - involving Caleb and her struggle after he'd been cursed – all belonged together. They needed a new and quite long shelf, with space enough to fill later. She found a memory of her summer read about bodily fluids and added that here, too.
Time to connect this shelf to the next one about the Dark Arts! She found she had more knowledge about them than she would ever have guessed if she added all her childhood memories, fears, and gloomy thoughts, including this last one with the Dementors. She almost jumped headfirst into a Dementor's caving mouth! None of her books had ever mentioned something similar to that! She found it interesting that all her readings about mind and elemental magic fit on this shelf. Also, that strange booklet about the colours Pince once had shown her and the disturbing facts about her wands. The Restricted Section just proved itself to be restricted for a reason. All of these seemed dangerous enough. She should find a way to use them better. Which pointed to the next shelf, with her memory of that ill-advised Lapiforse.
Transfiguration. It had to begin with the human transfigurations she had already tried. She found she wasn't defenceless even if she was yet to learn the defensive charms. Which led to the Charms shelf, and she noted everything she knew by theory and lacked experience. The world was a horrible place. She should build up herself better to face it. Medical spells and charms were insufficient to prevent an attack whose consequences were devastating. It was sheer dumb luck her brother was alive! This was unacceptable!
Rachel would have argued otherwise. The memory of her anger when she'd dared to say she'd missed her flew into her hand unbidden. So Anne put it on the next shelf. What else to gather here? Her Gran's strange state of mind, Rachel's acceptance and the remonstrations Anne felt against that. This shelf would be a hot mess, she knew in advance. She still put here everything for plain sight, which she knew others accepted or demanded even, and she swore to never make peace with, like that damned Gilderoy Lockhart and the love potions. Most of Snape's ideas and rules, his persecution complex and opinion about her becoming a Healer, his exchanges with Filch which Anne never understood, and even the Bloody Baron's hovering presence found a place here. Paul's doubts about her mother still felt ridiculous. Also, all the gossip she listened through while brewing in the summer had to sit at this unmerited place.
Which led to Potions. Her official school notes and all her research sat together, fluently followed by Arithmancy and Herbology, which called for Ancient Runes and her notes on the Magical Creatures. She added her memories about Greenhouse Five and Wiggentree.
History and History of Magic were all over the shelves, joining different disciplines and adding dimension.
For some reason, Astrology and Divination insisted on sticking under the larger-than-life poster of the dodecagram still proudly stuck on one wall. The painting about Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris on the other wall now hung beside a tiny frame holding Paul's likeness when he heatedly described the velociraptor. Whatever she learned from him was listed on a shelf under his picture. And there was also a jewel case holding her emotions and most treasured memories, which she wasn't ready to open.
By now, she could hear some notes from the "music room," and she was appalled by her twisted mind, which chose Queen's Killer Queen to commemorate Duvessa's insanity and her own hand in all that happened. First, she only entered that room to find a way to switch it off. Then she saw the healthy tree leaves' shadow playing all over the walls and stopped to listen to the lyrics. It wasn't about just Duvessa but all the insanity of the Fawleys' and Rosiers', Ulfhild's, and her own, with cakes and the summer, and sex, rounding up with the race of the rhythm and giving back the feeling of being chased through time and London, using a device she should have kept for her studies. Bugger. Snape would lay eggs if he knew!
She finally laughed at it all. The windows let through enough light again, and when she walked out the door, the woods seemed renewed and stronger. She could also hear her own laughter lingering among the branches. It was a bitter and defiant sound.
When she woke up, the Infirmary's evening lights were out, and the tall windows at the room's far end let through the tentative grey lights of a new dawn. Anne felt someone's presence next to her bed and saw with surprise that Madame Pince sat there, deeply immersed in her reading, and not – as she thought – Mr. Filch or Poppy. She only looked up when the cover rustled as Anne turned towards her.
"I trust you're already feeling better, Miss Rosier."
When Anne nodded, she put away her book.
"There are no two ways around this, Miss Rosier, and I believe I'd better tell you the news as quickly and painlessly as possible," – she began, and Anne could well sense her reluctance and care. She also seemed disturbed, which made her weary. "We have received your father's owl. It replied to your Head of House's query after he searched for him in vain. He says he had returned to your brother's side at St. Mungo's, trusting the Hogwarts staff to retrieve you after he had left you at the gates."
Anne sighed with relief. "So he's all right then."
Madame Pince's eyes dangerously shone up, and sparks of outrage prickled the air. "I would rather use the word unharmed. I fail to see anything 'right' about a man leaving his only daughter for the Dementors. However," – she took a calming breath – "he is undoubtedly unharmed, which apparently comforts you."
Anne swallowed. It would have never occurred to her to find fault about her father Apparating away. She saw how the monsters affected him. Obviously, Madame Pince was not of the same opinion. "It does," – she softly said. When she felt Pince's disappointment and pain, she tried to find a word to placate her, but she stood up before she could think of anything useful.
"Well then. Poppy expects you to be well enough to join classes today, Miss Rosier, but she asked me to tell you to wait here for her final evaluation in the morning. Welcome back. I trust we will see each other soon enough."
Anne tried to return her tight smile.
"Madame Pince, I'm sorry, but… did Professor Snape say something about my absence? Or anything else?"
Pince frowned and visibly struggled with herself, staring at her shoes for some seconds before plastering that discontented smile on her face again that would have easily passed as a painful grimace.
"I shouldn't…" – she sighed. "Let's just say, Miss Rosier, that he's a tad sore about being played, as he likes to put it. I wouldn't recommend you approach him before he comes to terms with Poppy's decision and your continuing traineeship."
When Anne's eyes widened with horror, Pince's features softened to a real smile. "He's really not as bad as he shows, Miss Rosier. Please believe me," – she added almost apologetically before she left for the day.
Madame Pomfrey examined Anne within the hour, and she was free to return to her dormitory. The Carrows and Sophie were tight asleep, and she looked around for her trunk to silently wash up and dress, but it was nowhere in sight.
After some moments of incoherence in her fright, Anne remembered pulling out her shrunken belongings from her robe's pocket. With a swish of her wand she resized her trunk and bag, and sent them to their place by her bed. Then she also remembered the silly sack that Caleb made her hide.
It was still safely in her skirt's pocket. She now took it out to examine. It was made of some kind of leather, and when she opened it, she saw a piece of parchment and shiny gold. A lot of gold!
Anne climbed on her bed and closed the curtains before she poured the whole thing on the covers. She counted seven hundred and twenty Galleons! She reached for the parchment.
Hey A-bee,
We discussed it with Caleb when Father fell asleep. He agreed to accept the money but said that wouldn't free him even if we got it all together. I don't care.
Father thinks it was Aunt, but we talked about that too, and we doubt it. Old M. and others wanted to get to Father. We knew that already, but now he's nuts. He guards Caleb like a dragon guards her eggs and sent me back to mum. It only makes sense if someone threatened him with us.
Add your part to this mint and owl me when we have it together. Even if Caleb thinks it won't solve everything, I'll do the fun part.
Have a nice year, A-bee, and don't let it all drag you down. You looked so annoyingly contrite Caleb wanted to hex you. We don't blame you, alright? It wasn't you who cursed him, and Aunty dear has always been a gormless bint. Which you aren't much, so cheer up, will you?
Gavin