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chapter one
People were yelling outside my door, it tended to happen at least once a day since I'd woken up. No one would tell me why, no one would tell me anything to be completely honest. The yelling would stop and then in...
Three...
Two...
One...
The woman would come in, smiling, acting as if nothing was wrong. No, not just the woman. Christina. My guardian, my family, the woman who would be taking me home in a few days if I could keep it together. And I had to get out of here. Just under three weeks was too long to be in a hospital for, not when there was nothing physically wrong with me. So I had to keep it together.
Christina was my guardian. She took care of me. Irving was Christina's son, so unofficially... My brother? They were taking me home. They were my family.
There were so many questions I wanted answered, so many inconsistencies with what I had been told. So many scars littered my body, some fresh and some that seemed years old. What had happened to me that had affected me so much that I had lost myself completely. That was the one thing you were meant to be sure of. Yourself. Your identity. Your name. Yet here I was, constantly forgetting to respond when someone calls my name.
"Sweetheart, are you okay? You're looking troubled" Christina questions, her concern furrowing her eyebrows. "Do you want to speak with Madam Grimworth?"
Madam Grimworth. Even the mere mention of her name made me cringe. She was a short, grey -haired, falsely cheerful, woman. She was the reason I was still in this godforsaken hospital. Every other of my healers had signed my release papers, but the damned woman had it in her head that I wasn't 'mentally well enough' to leave. She made me sit with her once a day and discuss my feelings about my memory loss. It sucked. Of course it sucked. But sitting in a hospital watching the same white walls for the rest of my life wasn't going to help my memories return. Irving called her my shrink. Apparently, it was a muggle thing. (Muggle, a non-magical person. I was a witch. At least, that was what they told me. Had I performed magic at all, no.) Either way I didn't care what she was called, I needed out of this bed.
"I'm okay, just ready to get out of here." I do my best to smile at her, despite the frustration that's slowly building.
"I know Elora," She sighed. Elora, that was me. "The healers are just being cautious. You were asleep for so long, nearly a month, for no reason. Sweetheart, they just want to be sure your memory loss doesn't have some easy fix that they're missing."
"When in my life have things ever been easy," I saw, rolling my eyes and slouching further down in the bed. Christina turns to me with eyes wide, a question on her tongue. "Not that I know for sure, I just... assumed." I wave my hand at her, the palm facing myself and the back facing her with the words 'I will not break school decrees' glaring up at her. It was the first scar I had found and it made me wonder, was I really the type to break school rules? And what sort of barbaric school did I attend that allowed students to be punished by carving lines into their skin. Irving had told me about the school. Hogwarts he had called it. He had said it was magical, a brilliant school where people learnt magic and went on fantastical adventures. It sounded questionable to me when I stared down at the scar.
There was shouting outside my door once more. Whoever it was seemed more determined than usual. Christina sighed, the sad look that seemed to be ever present returning as usual. She rocked forward slightly, kissing the side of my head and stalking out of the room. The door swung wide as it opened, but I only caught a glimpse of the people outside. Irving was there, blocking my view of the arguing person. The figure was just taller than Irving, and I could make out the top of his red hair.
Was it the boy who was holding my hand when I woke up? The healers had rushed him out so quickly that I never got a chance to know his name. Christina and Irving were the only ones to return after the healers allowed me visitors again.
The door was not quite closed, snippets of the conversation slipped through.
"... leave." I could hear Christina say.
"... deserve to..." The boy was yelling, "... keep me away."
Irving slipped through the door, closing it properly behind him.
"How's my favourite amnesiac?" He joked, his smile hiding an uneasy expression. I learnt very quickly that Irving and I were meant to get along great. It was no wonder why. He was easy to talk to, liked to joke around, and filled in silences easily. He also seemed good at dodging questions. Which wasn't something that made me get along with him well, it was actually quite annoying. He wouldn't hint at anything about myself. Every time I asked a question, no matter how hard I worked to hide my intentions, he always managed to steer the question away. Whether that be without my noticing, or him simply stating that 'it was a long story' and that he'd tell me another time. It was infuriating.
Irving sat next to me on my hospital bed, shoving into me and forcing me to move over on the bed. He plucked the book I had been reading before the shouting began from my lap, flicking over the cover.
"A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration" He read aloud, glancing over the book. I'd gotten a healer to find me a copy earlier, hoping that the textbooks would kickstart my magic. If this was how I learnt it when I first began school, then it was hopefully how I re-learnt it.
"Your favourite amnesiac," I snap humorously, snatching the book from his grasp and placing it on my bedside table. "would be a lot better if she could get out of this bloody hospital room." He scowled at me, grabbing another textbook off the side table. He flicked open the book titled 'Fantastic Beasts and where to find them', stopping at the chapter I had been last looking at; Dragons. Irving had brought this copy, saying it was mine from home. This chapter seemed to be the most well loved, notes were scrawled along the pages. Whoever my teacher at Hogwarts must have had a particular interest in the Common Welsh Green, for I seemed to have extensive notes on that Dragon specifically. There was one note that I found quite peculiar and wonder just what I'd been taught during lessons.
'Do NOT wake him from naps.'
I wasn't sure why I had written it like that, like I was talking about a person, but it made me more and more curious. It was odd to see my handwriting and not remember writing it.
"That's it!" Christina said, storming into the room. Irving jolted in fright, tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. He groaned in pain, and despite my own laughter, Christina ignored him. "It's time we got you out of here."
"Yes!" I exclaim, shoving the covers of my legs and jumping off the bed.
"But what about Madam Grimworth? I thought she wanted to keep her here a while longer?" Irving asked, standing up quickly and stretching out his sore limbs. I shushed him quickly, hoping Christina wouldn't take notice and change her mind. I pulled the trunk Christina had brought weeks ago out from under my bed, slamming it quickly on top.
"Yes well, I am a healer myself so I can most definitely handle any challenges that may come our way." She took out her wand, flicking it. The clothes I had begun to collect and place in my trunk lifted from my hands and went there themselves. My belongings zipped through the air from every corner of the room, neatly stacking in my case. The case was far more organised then it would have been if I was left to my own devices. I watched bewildered, just as I always did when magic was performed in front of me. "Right, let's get going."
The trunk slammed shut, and with another flick of her wand, it began to levitate, following after her as she marched out.
"Miss Cram!" Madam Grimworth scolded, rushing after us as Irving and I marched out behind her. The healer's face was growing red in anger. "I did not authorise this! You have no righ-"
Christina stopped dead in her tracks, surprising Irving and I. Irving stumbles slightly, bumping into my trunk while I skid into him.
"No right?" Christina questions, turning to the other woman. Her voice is venom, eyes daring the women to argue with her on the matter. The look on Christina's face visibly frightened her, but the witch did her best not to show it. "I do believe that I am a healer at this very hospital, a quite distinguished one at that. If I'm not mistaken, I do believe I am more qualified than yourself even."
"Yes of course, bu-"
"Elora is under my guardianship, and I alone am responsible for her wellbeing." The healer witch attempted to argue once more, but Christina did not let her engage. "I am more than capable of looking after her, so we will be on our way." The two witches stared at each other, at a standstill. Irving and I watched with curious excitement, as well as a few others who did their best not to show their curiosity.
"Very well," Madam Grimsworth nodded stiffly.
I refrained from cheering, but as we walked away with the witches eyes still on our backs, I couldn't help but accept the hand that Irving offered in high five. I thought we were out scot-free once we were out on the street, but it seemed my exit would be clouded in drama.
"El!" Someone yelled as we reached the other side of the street. I turned instinctively, looking around to find the source of the voice while Irving and Christina shared a look. The boy from my bedside was pushing through the crowds of people. He was tall, red-headed and freckled. He seemed to know me, and I expected that I knew him. I took a step forward, but Christina quickly took my hand. She had explained apperating to me previously, and while surprised by the suddenness of it all, the twisting feeling was almost expected. "Elora!" I heard him shout once more as I disappeared, I could see him reach Irving, my brother's hand placed on his chest, stopping the boy from coming any closer.
Finally when the twisting stopped and the nausea settled, I stared up at the house in front of me. I longed for a sense of familiarity, any evidence of memory about what was meant to be my home. Nothing came. All I saw was a two story townhouse, sitting ordinarily on a street opposite a vast forest. Christina guided me into the house and up the stairs to a room. The walls were bare, a neatly made bed sat in the centre. A trunk sat on top of the bed, there were boxes stacked against the wall.
"You wrote to me, just after Christmas. You were planning to..." She swallowed thickly, "You were planning to move out." She was silent as she watched me step into the empty room. I opened the trunk on the bed. "I packed your things for you, I thought it would make the move easier. But now I wish..." She trailed off.
"I was moving out?" I questioned, picking up a yellow scarf from the trunk. It must have been my school things.
"Yes, some apartment in town, I'm sure someones taken it by now." Christina said dismissively, waving her hand through the air. I could hear the front door slam, and Irvings voice called for his mother. "I best sort out dinner, I'll have something ready in an hour. Take your time sorting through your things, maybe something will jump out at you."
She left me alone in the room, leaving me standing in the unfamiliar and empty room to sort through the life or someone I was meant to be, but didn't know. There were things inside my school trunk that I expected, books, parchment and clothes. Other things seemed more personal, a black leatherbound journal with E.B engraved in the bottom corner, and oddly, a snowglobe. Pushing the book to the side, making a mental note to examine its contents later, I shake the globe. The fake sun shone over a miniature lake. It was truly beautiful, and I wondered if the place inside was real. Had I been there before.
I place the globe on the desk in the room, pulling a textbook out of my trunk. I was sure I would have plenty of time to investigate my belongings, and the very thought of looking through the boxes that lined my wall felt overwhelming. Maybe, if I could just remember how to use my magic, I could remember a spell that would float all of my things to their proper places. I settle onto my bed, text book in hand and begin to read.
___
Someone is calling my name.
Elora! They shout. Calling me, shouting for me.
The room is dark, my hands lift in front of my face and I can barely see them. I spin, hoping for a source of light. A hint to where I am, a hint of who's calling to me.
There's a flash of light, a doorway? No. A spotlight.
The room is encompassed in darkness except for one spot. A light shines down on a boy. He is tall, dark haired and handsome. He smiles at me. He's happy to see me, but... there's something wrong. He's smiling, but he's sad. I try to walk towards him, but no matter the steps I take, he never gets any closer.
"This is what you chose, Elora."
What is this?
"Who are you?" I call back to him, he is familiar, and he feels like home. He's wearing black robes, and a yellow scarf. It's the same as the one I had pulled from my trunk. I know him, his name is at the tip of my tongue. The boy frowns.
Another flash of light.
He's not standing anymore, he's lying flat on his back, his arms by his side, his eyes staring upwards. Finally, I run and actually move. I'm running, skidding to the ground by his side. I go to speak to him, to pull him up and ask hi-
No.
No, no, no, no.
He's dead?
How is he dead?
Someone's screaming. It's me, I'm screaming. And I can't breathe. My heart aches, and my sobs are uncontrollable.
A new voice calls my name, I feel a hand on my shoulder and-
I jolt upwards, gasping for breath. I hazardously glance around me, looking for the boy, looking for the new voice. Finally my eyes settle on my surroundings. The textbook I was reading has fallen off my lap and settled into the covers of my bed to my right, my school trunk has been kicked off the bed and its contents spilled across the floor. It was a dream, nothing but a dream.
The sun is setting outside my window, oranges and reds lighting up the tops of the trees of the forest. It's beautiful, stunning even, and I desperately want it to feel familiar but it doesn't. With a frustrated groan I take the book and throw it against the wall. I wince when it slams, and once more groan in frustration, this time throwing my body backwards and laying back in the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Only when my stomach grumbles in hunger do I move, creeping silent back down the stairs in search of the kitchen. The house is unfamiliar, and I feel unwelcome. Like this isn't wear I'm supposed to be, like I don't belong.
"...don't understand why-" I can hear Irving and Christina speaking in the kitchen, Irving sat at a bench while Christina moves around the kitchen.
"I've told you a thousand times," Christina answered. She sighed as she cooked, "Dumbledore believes that Elora's best chance at restoring her memories is to-" They were talking about me, I realised just as I reached the bottom step. I paused, ducking down and straining my ears more to hear more. I didn't know who this Dumbledore person was, but if Christina was listening to him then he must be important.
"What does he know? He's a professor, not a healer."
"Enough Irving!" Christina said, slamming down the knife she had been using down on the chopping board in front of her. The sense of finality in her voice sent guilt pooling in my stomach, and for a second I rose to my feet, thinking that coming out of my hiding place was the better option. Then Christina began to speak once more, and I froze in place. "Elora has been through unfathomable amounts of pain, we need to let her memories return on their own."
"And when she remembers what happened? To her? To all of them?" Irving questions, staring his mother in the eye. They hold their gaze with each other, I can only see the back of Irvings head, but Christina's face is blank. "I would do anything for her, and I know you feel the same, but when reality hits, we won't be enough. She's going to need Fr-"
There's a knock at the door, and I curse. I quickly but quietly skip halfway back up the stairs and hope that once Christina rounds the corner to the front door, it would look like I'd only just made my way down. In my attempts to look nonchalant, my foot slips on a step. I stumble slightly, but manage to catch myself. Christina startles from the noise, turning her head to look at me just as she reaches the door, but doesn't seem to question my sudden appearance on the stairs. I take slow steps down the stairs as she opens the door.
A tall, thin man with a long silver beard is standing in the doorway. Irving, who remained in the kitchen, is glancing over his shoulder at the front door snorts humorously at something I don't understand. Behind the man was a shorter woman with brown, greying hair and a stern but kind smile on her face.
"Albus, Poppy, what a pleasant surprise."
The two figures returned her greetings, and Christina welcomed them into the kitchen. As they entered, they both nodded politely to me.
"Apologies for disturbing you Christina, but we heard Elora was released today and thought we'd come to welcome her home." The man responded, settling into a seat at the table. The woman took the seat beside him. Irving turned around at the bench and examined the two people sitting at the table. The look on his face wasn't exactly kind, and seemed to be directly challenging the man. "Miss..."
"Cram." Christina said firmly.
"Miss Cram, how are you-"
"Don't sit there and act like you don't have some hidden agenda, Dumbledore." As I took a seat at the table, feeling like that was where I was meant to be for whatever this conversation was, my head whips around to Irving. The look on his face darkens further. I couldn't be sure, but it didn't feel like he usually looked this way. The positivity that radiated off him was replaced with disapproval. Christina hissed at her son, and I waited for the older wizard to act out in his own way. The man just smiled wider.
"Always so perceptive Mr. Cram." He smiled in a way that almost seemed senile, but his eyes seemed to hide some great intelligence. Plus, if this was the same Dumbledore I had heard Christina and Irving arguing about just minutes ago, there had to be some reason why Christina trusted him. Dumbledore looks to me, "Poppy and I are here to check on your progress, and inform you of some... unwelcome news." He stays silent, staring intently at me. I look between him and the kind woman.
"But first dear, how are you?" The woman says, smiling at me and averting my eyes from Dumbledore.
"I'm alright I suppose, no memories yet, but happy to be home." I supply. I find my hand has reached across to my other wrist and is rubbing, a red mark appearing on the skin. I try to stop, but after a few moments more of Dumbledore's stare I subconsciously continue rubbing. "What did you need to speak with me about?" The woman opened her mouth, but Dumbledore bet her to it.
"This was discovered at the ministry a few weeks ago, but I thought it best to wait until you had left the hospital to return it," He places something on the table in front of me, wrapped in fabric. Fiddling with the strings, the package unravels. Inside is a piece of wood broken into two pieces. A wand? I'd see the healers using theirs, and Irving and Christina had never hidden theirs from me. "It's a wand, your wand to be more precise. I had Ollivander look over it to be sure." It was mine? I reach across and fiddle with the broken pieces of wood, feeling the tiny grooves in the wood. "There are options of course Miss Cram, you may get it mended, but that can sometimes produce a weaker wand, or you may replace it. I'm sure Olivander will be happy to rematch you."
I didn't know what to think, this was my property, my wand. Yet I couldn't feel any attachment to it. I felt Irving reach for my hand. I looked to my right, he was watching my carefully from the chair to my right. I hadn't even noticed him move. Christna was now on my left, sitting at the head of the table.
"There's more Elora," The woman Christina had called Poppy began to speak, "I received word from St. Mungos. While initially your application was successful, they can longer longer accept you into the Healers traineeship, due to your... newfound circumstances. They were quite vocal in insisting you apply again," She paused, "once you have regained your memories."
I took a deep breath.
This woman seemed to have lain out my whole intended future in front of me. I thought about Christina's comment about my moving out. The Elora Cram that lost her memories had lost her whole future. Every possibility had gone down the drain. Her past had erased her future.
"I'm sorry, I-" I stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly across the floor as it jolted backwards. They three strangers looked at me with concern, while the man stared at me with morbid curiosity. I can't... I can't breathe.
I ran from the room, skipping up the stairs two at a time. Christina called to me as I ran from them, I could faintly hear Irving telling her to leave me. Even in the supposed comfort of my room I couldn't breathe. The air was too thick, the walls too close. Hot tears were spilling from my eyes, with no sign of stopping. I had to get out, I had to... the window.
I unlatched the window, crawling out onto the slanted roof and into the cool air. There wasn't a balcony per say, but as I climbed across the roof there was a flattened area where I could sit comfortably. The night was still, much more silent than the throbbing in my mind. I heard the click of the front door and flattened myself against the roof as the visitors left. I watched them walk a few steps then disappear.
They spoke to me like they knew me. I guess they did know me. Who was I kidding, everyone seems to know me. Except... me.
I sigh deeply, the tears finally ceasing. High above me the moon shone, lighting up the dark sky. It was my only reassurance. No matter my problems, no matter the things that my mind wouldn't remember, I knew I would see the moon again.
Miles away, not on a roof but a balcony, a boy sat. He stared out into the night sky, ignoring the noise his brother made from inside the flat. His red hair was askew, his face downhearted and broken after a full day of masquerades, his shoulders slumped as he watched the moon, hoping that maybe he could yearn his love into his arms.