I was sitting next to Quincy's bed in the infirmary, holding my notebook in my lap, reading it through over and over again. I was told to stay and rest, so I didn't argue against it, which also meant I could keep an eye on Quincy. I had fake memories to deal with in my head while I was waiting for her to wake up. Ones that felt so real it was scary, and it was hard to believe they hadn't happened. Thankfully, through this notebook, I could discern what was real and what was the machinations of Albus Dumbledore.
"I got Quincy back." It was the first thing I wrote into it, followed by a warning to everybody. "If you ever feel yourself to be in danger, burn your notebook. Its existence could bring forth your demise."
To my surprise, very few people wrote they would do it, while the rest assured me they would be with me going forward, whatever happens, even if they have to fight the Order. In the end, I had more than forty students who signed their names, saying they wanted to follow me as everyone felt a storm was coming.
"I will have to come up with a codename for everyone," I murmured, closing the notebook. "I need a security backup if one of these books falls into the wrong hands!"
"We can... enchant it, so only the selected people can read... it..."
"Quincy!" I yelled out, standing up at once when I heard her weak voice, helping her sit up before I hugged her close. "Finally, you are back..."
"I... remember some weird things... it doesn't make sense..." She whispered, her throat dry, so I helped her drink some water before doing anything else.
"Most of it is fake memories. Don't force it! We were captured by the Order, and our memories were tampered with!"
"How do you know?" She asked, looking confused, holding my hand, not wanting to let it go. I knew it would be hard to believe, yet her eyes weren't questioning me.
"My blood. I think the ritual... or Herpo is doing it. He imprinted himself into his bloodline, which already means that he knows how to store memories in blood."
"Isn't he... gone? Dead? He said it!"
"And who would believe one of the most powerful dark wizards of ancient times?" I asked with a half-smile, making her blush. "We will deal with that when we must; let's not worry about it! First... rest! You look horrible!"
"I feel horrible..." She chuckled, but still, I climbed into her bed, hugging her close to me and rubbing her head.
"Worry not! We will deal with your jumbled memories, and I already know how!"
"I am not worried... not anymore!" She whispered, burying her face into my chest, and for the first time in a long time, I felt everything was back in order.
...
....
.....
Two days later, I brought Quincy to the office of Professor Lockhart. If memories needed fixing, I know no better experts to ask to help us. When I entered, he quickly closed the doors and made sure we were not spied upon, asking me nervously.
"So...? Kiddo? What did they say?" He yelled like a kid, holding my shoulders and shaking me a little.
"Nothing." I shrugged, and I wasn't lying. Not really. There was no chance to even bring it up. "Sadly, things turned out... really bad, Professor."
"How bad?" He asked, turning whiter, biting on his nails after letting me go.
"Well... You will be able to see it! Please help me reorganize Quincy's memories, as they have been tampered with! After that, we can talk!"
"What about you?"
"I'm fine, my mind was prepared." I lied, and he was more nervous than to question it.
"Okay... I will need you to help me with it, Conrad! You know Quincy the best, so you will come with me, and we will work in tandem!"
"How?" I asked, and he explained simply.
"Both of us will cast the spell at the same time and enter her memories simultaneously! Don't worry, I will take the lead!"
I was surprised that I wasn't even questioning him and trusting his word from the get-go. Huh... I couldn't have imagined it in my first or even in the second year. Not even Quincy was bothered by it, and when we used the same spell as if we were one entity, I found myself standing next to the Professor, right in the gallery of Quincy's memories.
"Good. It worked."
"What do you mean by that? That did not sound as if it was something I wanted to hear!"
"I never did this before; I only theorized it." He told me, not looking at me. Instead, he was nervously scanning the 'paintings' on the walls. I wanted to tell him off, but it was not the right time for it... That had to wait until later. "Yes... I see..."
"What do you see...?" I asked, holding down my anger and regulating my breaths.
"Many of the memories here are fake; you can tell if you look at their frames! Every memory has a unique frame, like fingerprints! The fake ones? Look closer! They are identical!"
"Are they?"
No matter how hard I looked, the wooden-looking, swirly-twirly decorations on them looked the same in all of the paintings. They always did. Nothing new here!
"I don't know, Professor, they all look the same to me anyway!"
"Exactly! A ton of memory got ripped out and replaced!"
"You said once that memories can't be destroyed! That nobody did it before!" I countered, fearing that Quincy's memories couldn't be recovered.
"Have you ever heard of amnesia?"
"Of course!"
"The only way to get rid of memories. It still won't destroy them, but it will be close. Close enough! Whoever did this was forceful... Ripping out memories causes the effects of amnesia! It is a brute force method and could lead to permanent brain damage! Think of it like knocking off the paintings from the wall. They fall into the abyss! Then the caster just has to replace them with his own version. A crude method! No sophistication or respect towards the art of it at all!"
"Is she okay?" I asked, feeling my heartbeat fasten at once.
"Yes, yes... she is fine... now, let me work! Conrad, you know her best! Your job will be to concentrate on memories that you built up together! Try interacting with the fake ones here, projecting your own into her mind! I will try to fish out what is hidden deep within so we can restore what has been lost!"
...
....
.....
The whole ordeal went on for the entire day. The one who was the most relaxed was none other than Quincy. With every session, more and more memories resurfaced of what happened to her, and by the end, she could distinguish between her natural and fake memories. When we were finished in the evening, I wanted to collapse, feeling like I had run a marathon.
"Thank you, Professor!" She bowed towards him before sitting in my lap, snuggling up to me.
"Yeah..." He nodded, looking disheartened and crestfallen.
I knew the reason. In one of Quincy's memories, Dumbledore was interrogating her, and his name came up. It was evident that Dumbledore looked at him as someone unimportant and that he would not want to do anything with him. That alone crushed all the Professor's hopes for striking a deal with them.
"I'm done for..." He groaned, placing his head into his palms, and it was the first time I saw a grown man crying. It wasn't loud... it wasn't a tantrum. It was pitiful, desperate sobs. I can't lie. I felt sorry for him.
"Not is all lost, Professor!" Quincy whispered, walking up to him and patting his head.
"It is... it is!" He answered, trying to fix his posture and wiping his eyes, but it just made him even more pitiful.
"I will vouch for you, Professor!" I blurted out, not even knowing if that would have any use or not. I am nothing but a glorified bait anyway. Vouch to whom? Voldemort? Dumbledore? Laughable... both of them.
"Thanks, kiddo... you are truly a good friend. My only friend... Keep yourselves safe, okay?"
For some reason, I was feeling really bad while being led out of his office. I wanted to say something, but then again, he just closed the door behind him, and I heard the locks clicking into place.
"We should visit him maybe a bit more." Quincy murmured, feeling the same way as I did.
"If we have time!" I answered, holding her hand and leading her towards our 'classroom' in the North Tower. "It is December, and soon it will be the Yule Ball!"
"Can't we skip it? After what happened, I am not in the mood to celebrate... anything! I just got back; I should be able to say I am still weak and battered to go to any celebration!"
"Me neither. But I don't think we can shrug it off..."
I think he knew that, too. After getting to our little place, I ignited a fire in our undersized stove, and soon, the cold room began warming up. Sitting before the orange-colored fire, I listened to her recounting what it was like being a captive of the Order. Although I did see it in her memories, it was different from hearing it from her lips, and it helped her reinforce her memories. It was followed by my side of the events, leaving nothing out.
"I want to see it..." She murmured, kissing my neck as she sat in my lap. "You, fighting that prick Flamel and his dragons!"
"I thought you would scold me for being stupid!" I joked, caressing her hair.
"Well, I would, but not now, no. But Conrad... what will we do next? Your Father..."
"I know. I mean... I don't know! To be honest with you, I have been doing nothing but improvising! Reacting and not planning ahead! I hate to admit this, but we are not the ones who hold the reins! That is in the hands of Dumbledore and Voldemort! We are just pawns in a game... and our positions are the ones that try to pull out the opponent's Queen."
"Yes... you are right..."
"The only thing we can do now is to prepare, prepare and prepare! Deal with what is in front of us! My only hope is when this tournament is over, and the dust settles, we will have a chance to regain control over our lives!"
"Until then, we will continue to ready ourselves!" She hummed, kissing me more and more as if trying to fill up the quota she missed in the past month. "That notebook was a good idea! Can you gather the people? I will help you put a hex on it!"
"What kind of hex?" I asked, returning the kisses by now.
"With a few from the books of Salazar! They will be very effective, you will see!"
By now, it was increasingly hard to talk as we were trying to seal each other's lips, and no more words were being said. At least not verbally but through mouth-to-mouth.
I was sitting next to Quincy's bed in the infirmary, holding my notebook in my lap, reading it through over and over again. I was told to stay and rest, so I didn't argue against it, which also meant I could keep an eye on Quincy. I had fake memories to deal with in my head while I was waiting for her to wake up. Ones that felt so real it was scary, and it was hard to believe they hadn't happened. Thankfully, through this notebook, I could discern what was real and what was the machinations of Albus Dumbledore.
"I got Quincy back." It was the first thing I wrote into it, followed by a warning to everybody. "If you ever feel yourself to be in danger, burn your notebook. Its existence could bring forth your demise."
To my surprise, very few people wrote they would do it, while the rest assured me they would be with me going forward, whatever happens, even if they have to fight the Order. In the end, I had more than forty students who signed their names, saying they wanted to follow me as everyone felt a storm was coming.
"I will have to come up with a codename for everyone," I murmured, closing the notebook. "I need a security backup if one of these books falls into the wrong hands!"
"We can... enchant it, so only the selected people can read... it..."
"Quincy!" I yelled out, standing up at once when I heard her weak voice, helping her sit up before I hugged her close. "Finally, you are back..."
"I... remember some weird things... it doesn't make sense..." She whispered, her throat dry, so I helped her drink some water before doing anything else.
"Most of it is fake memories. Don't force it! We were captured by the Order, and our memories were tampered with!"
"How do you know?" She asked, looking confused, holding my hand, not wanting to let it go. I knew it would be hard to believe, yet her eyes weren't questioning me.
"My blood. I think the ritual... or Herpo is doing it. He imprinted himself into his bloodline, which already means that he knows how to store memories in blood."
"Isn't he... gone? Dead? He said it!"
"And who would believe one of the most powerful dark wizards of ancient times?" I asked with a half-smile, making her blush. "We will deal with that when we must; let's not worry about it! First... rest! You look horrible!"
"I feel horrible..." She chuckled, but still, I climbed into her bed, hugging her close to me and rubbing her head.
"Worry not! We will deal with your jumbled memories, and I already know how!"
"I am not worried... not anymore!" She whispered, burying her face into my chest, and for the first time in a long time, I felt everything was back in order.
...
....
.....
Two days later, I brought Quincy to the office of Professor Lockhart. If memories needed fixing, I know no better experts to ask to help us. When I entered, he quickly closed the doors and made sure we were not spied upon, asking me nervously.
"So...? Kiddo? What did they say?" He yelled like a kid, holding my shoulders and shaking me a little.
"Nothing." I shrugged, and I wasn't lying. Not really. There was no chance to even bring it up. "Sadly, things turned out... really bad, Professor."
"How bad?" He asked, turning whiter, biting on his nails after letting me go.
"Well... You will be able to see it! Please help me reorganize Quincy's memories, as they have been tampered with! After that, we can talk!"
"What about you?"
"I'm fine, my mind was prepared." I lied, and he was more nervous than to question it.
"Okay... I will need you to help me with it, Conrad! You know Quincy the best, so you will come with me, and we will work in tandem!"
"How?" I asked, and he explained simply.
"Both of us will cast the spell at the same time and enter her memories simultaneously! Don't worry, I will take the lead!"
I was surprised that I wasn't even questioning him and trusting his word from the get-go. Huh... I couldn't have imagined it in my first or even in the second year. Not even Quincy was bothered by it, and when we used the same spell as if we were one entity, I found myself standing next to the Professor, right in the gallery of Quincy's memories.
"Good. It worked."
"What do you mean by that? That did not sound as if it was something I wanted to hear!"
"I never did this before; I only theorized it." He told me, not looking at me. Instead, he was nervously scanning the 'paintings' on the walls. I wanted to tell him off, but it was not the right time for it... That had to wait until later. "Yes... I see..."
"What do you see...?" I asked, holding down my anger and regulating my breaths.
"Many of the memories here are fake; you can tell if you look at their frames! Every memory has a unique frame, like fingerprints! The fake ones? Look closer! They are identical!"
"Are they?"
No matter how hard I looked, the wooden-looking, swirly-twirly decorations on them looked the same in all of the paintings. They always did. Nothing new here!
"I don't know, Professor, they all look the same to me anyway!"
"Exactly! A ton of memory got ripped out and replaced!"
"You said once that memories can't be destroyed! That nobody did it before!" I countered, fearing that Quincy's memories couldn't be recovered.
"Have you ever heard of amnesia?"
"Of course!"
"The only way to get rid of memories. It still won't destroy them, but it will be close. Close enough! Whoever did this was forceful... Ripping out memories causes the effects of amnesia! It is a brute force method and could lead to permanent brain damage! Think of it like knocking off the paintings from the wall. They fall into the abyss! Then the caster just has to replace them with his own version. A crude method! No sophistication or respect towards the art of it at all!"
"Is she okay?" I asked, feeling my heartbeat fasten at once.
"Yes, yes... she is fine... now, let me work! Conrad, you know her best! Your job will be to concentrate on memories that you built up together! Try interacting with the fake ones here, projecting your own into her mind! I will try to fish out what is hidden deep within so we can restore what has been lost!"
...
....
.....
The whole ordeal went on for the entire day. The one who was the most relaxed was none other than Quincy. With every session, more and more memories resurfaced of what happened to her, and by the end, she could distinguish between her natural and fake memories. When we were finished in the evening, I wanted to collapse, feeling like I had run a marathon.
"Thank you, Professor!" She bowed towards him before sitting in my lap, snuggling up to me.
"Yeah..." He nodded, looking disheartened and crestfallen.
I knew the reason. In one of Quincy's memories, Dumbledore was interrogating her, and his name came up. It was evident that Dumbledore looked at him as someone unimportant and that he would not want to do anything with him. That alone crushed all the Professor's hopes for striking a deal with them.
"I'm done for..." He groaned, placing his head into his palms, and it was the first time I saw a grown man crying. It wasn't loud... it wasn't a tantrum. It was pitiful, desperate sobs. I can't lie. I felt sorry for him.
"Not is all lost, Professor!" Quincy whispered, walking up to him and patting his head.
"It is... it is!" He answered, trying to fix his posture and wiping his eyes, but it just made him even more pitiful.
"I will vouch for you, Professor!" I blurted out, not even knowing if that would have any use or not. I am nothing but a glorified bait anyway. Vouch to whom? Voldemort? Dumbledore? Laughable... both of them.
"Thanks, kiddo... you are truly a good friend. My only friend... Keep yourselves safe, okay?"
For some reason, I was feeling really bad while being led out of his office. I wanted to say something, but then again, he just closed the door behind him, and I heard the locks clicking into place.
"We should visit him maybe a bit more." Quincy murmured, feeling the same way as I did.
"If we have time!" I answered, holding her hand and leading her towards our 'classroom' in the North Tower. "It is December, and soon it will be the Yule Ball!"
"Can't we skip it? After what happened, I am not in the mood to celebrate... anything! I just got back; I should be able to say I am still weak and battered to go to any celebration!"
"Me neither. But I don't think we can shrug it off..."
I think he knew that, too. After getting to our little place, I ignited a fire in our undersized stove, and soon, the cold room began warming up. Sitting before the orange-colored fire, I listened to her recounting what it was like being a captive of the Order. Although I did see it in her memories, it was different from hearing it from her lips, and it helped her reinforce her memories. It was followed by my side of the events, leaving nothing out.
"I want to see it..." She murmured, kissing my neck as she sat in my lap. "You, fighting that prick Flamel and his dragons!"
"I thought you would scold me for being stupid!" I joked, caressing her hair.
"Well, I would, but not now, no. But Conrad... what will we do next? Your Father..."
"I know. I mean... I don't know! To be honest with you, I have been doing nothing but improvising! Reacting and not planning ahead! I hate to admit this, but we are not the ones who hold the reins! That is in the hands of Dumbledore and Voldemort! We are just pawns in a game... and our positions are the ones that try to pull out the opponent's Queen."
"Yes... you are right..."
"The only thing we can do now is to prepare, prepare and prepare! Deal with what is in front of us! My only hope is when this tournament is over, and the dust settles, we will have a chance to regain control over our lives!"
"Until then, we will continue to ready ourselves!" She hummed, kissing me more and more as if trying to fill up the quota she missed in the past month. "That notebook was a good idea! Can you gather the people? I will help you put a hex on it!"
"What kind of hex?" I asked, returning the kisses by now.
"With a few from the books of Salazar! They will be very effective, you will see!"
By now, it was increasingly hard to talk as we were trying to seal each other's lips, and no more words were being said. At least not verbally but through mouth-to-mouth.
