Luckily guilted
That evening, when Petar returned, Lucille confronted him immediately. "Did as you said, now I want my memories."
Petar met her gaze with a mix of patience and determination. "Be patient, Lucille."
He guided her upstairs to a room that had once belonged to her mother. The air was thick with dust and the scent of old wood, the atmosphere both comforting and unsettling. Petar urged her to lie down on the bed, its worn blanket rough against her skin.
"Memory recovery is very delicate," Petar began softly, yet firmly. "They need to come back piece by piece."
Lucille nodded, a blend of hope and anxiety in her eyes. "I remember the essential things, but not in detail. Not everything. Why did I forget everything? Did I hit my head? Was I Obliviated? And why does that old woman call me Nina?"
Petar sighed deeply, the weight of the past evident in his expression. "Must be wondering why we work with Greyback. He helped our family when Grindelwald was eradicating Werewolves. Our grandfather promised him Nina in gratitude, but she fell for your father and ran away with him instead."
Lucille's eyes widened in shock.
"When Greyback saw how much you resembled your mother, he became obsessed with capturing you. After your first transformation, his men kidnapped you. For a month, he kept you under a spell similar to Imperio, making you obey and blocking your mind. Then, he begged Voldemort to mark you with the Dark Mark and ordered you to slaughter that village."
Lucille gasped, horror filling her heart, checking her dark tattoo once again. "And that's why I can't remember?"
Petar nodded, his face grim. "The spell shattered your mind, but it isn't impossible to recover your memories. Need to be careful."
"Why are you doing all this?" Lucille asked, her voice trembling.
"There is an old saying in our family," Petar said, avoiding her gaze. "We don’t abandon our family. Family before everything. Let's start tonight with your earliest memories."
He carefully brewed a potion, adding a string of Lucille's hair. Handing her a vial, he instructed her to drink. The liquid was bitter, burning slightly as it went down. Petar then placed a wet towel over her forehead, the coolness soothing against her skin.
As Lucille lay down, the darkness of the room enveloped her. She heard Petar's footsteps fade as he left, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The promise of her memories returning filled her with a mix of fear and hope. She closed her eyes, ready to face the fragments of her past, one piece at a time.
* * *
The waves of the Grand Lake lappeled lazily at the shore whilst the full moon loomed large in the lonely sky. Something likewise alluring and hurtful at the same time. It was nearly midnight.
At the feeling of a hand on her shoulder, Lucille jumped.
”Padma? Thought you were sleeping.”
”Shh, the girls are trying to,” she sat besides, looking on the best view of the surroundings offered by tall windows of their dorm. ”I have difficulty in sleeping in stranger beds, Mum says she has never seen such a sensible sleeper as me. Look at that! Perhaps we can see the Giant Squib before it gets into hibernation.”
Lucille offered a friendly slime, thoughtful, wrapping up tighter the sleeping robes. ucille had a striking appearance that set her apart. Her short, boyish hair framed her face in an endearing yet defiant manner, giving her an air of mischief and independence.
”Why can’t you sleep?” asked Padma quietly.
”I will, I think,” Lucille didn’t feel like explaining, but Padma’s eyebrows rounded and had a concerned look in her large brown eyes that made it clear she would not escape till getting it off her chest. ”Erm, as soon as I disenbody that filthy ancient hat. How dare it not put me in Gryffindor? Precisely it is too old to function properly.”
Padma began to chuckle. ”On Merlin’s pants, why would you want to be a part of such an common house? They let almost everyone in.”
”They didnt’t let me in,” Lucille said sadly. ”Wanted to be just like Dad.”
”Lucille. Don’t you realise how splendid our house is? Only the best of the lot make it in, have the highest grades and gets the best job positions after graduating. The other houses can’t compete.”
Lucille shrugged, ”Not sure I have the brains.”
”The Sorting Hat wouldn’t name a foolish a Ravenclaw, and that is certain! Loosen up, Lucy, owing that the two of us will have the best time here at Hogwarts!” Padma threw her arms around Lucille and did not seem hesitating at all while doing it, meanwhile she was bewildered: had she successfully made a friend?
Just as Lucille was about to put a hand on Padma’s back, the girl released her, ”Now we should better go to sleep, I suppose.”
”Yes. We should try counting broomsticks,” offered Lucille funnily.
Hogwarts. The magical place where anything was possible, all she ever wanted since she could remember. It was indeed just as Remus had described it: the rich, enthusiastic meals enlightened with floating candles, long hallaways with chattering portraits, friendly ghosts, a mighty library and the most glorous surroundings. His words flew through her mind while exploring it, her trying to capture everything from his point of view.
Even so, there was a particular thing that according to Remus was most important, that all the magical forces could not compare with: friendship. He had described his school years as the most fun part of his life, due to his two friends, Potter and Pettigrew. Clearly Padma proved herself to be a great company and Lucille’s very first friend – yes, a great start that would be.
Finally, no one had warned her about how difficult the subjects were. Muggle schools would focus on logic stuff, whereas at Hogwarts they consisted in magical matters. In brief, Lucille found wand movements unfeasible, not to mention her highly outworn wand. Well, all her possessions were hand-me-down, but then no one around seemed to care. Handsoever, she had not heard from her father. Owls would fly with letters to his house day and night should they be charge-free.
She considered the Ravenclaw Tower the chilliest place in the castle. The dungeons proved her wrong. The Potions professor preferred his classroom parky, the air stale and dimness. Lucille had been looking forward to this class, potions was her thing and thankfully it didn’t require a wand.
Professor Snape was quite harsh as a first impression, despite the other staff that treated first years as infants. He spoke coarsely, expecting everyone’s respect. Surprisingly, he did not follow the textbook, writing the recipe of the most basic potion on the board.
Lucille followed the instructions but chose to trust her own instincts here and there. Professor Snape walked carefully around them, looking on each of their choices. At the end of the class, her potion was announced by the professor as the second best, preceded MacMillan’s.
”Quite acceptable,” dull he mouthed with a greasy strand entering his mouth, ”Miss...?”
”Lupin,” said Lucille, blissfully.
The whole class watched as Professor Snape’s expession turned jolty, him offering interest at last and for a moment his eyes widened. ”Hmm...” he raised an eyebrow, ”I see I was too quick to judge your work as it is completely spoiled. You choose to avoid my indications. I have specifically explained each step and what mistake to avoid, did I not, MacMillan?”
”Yes you did, sir,” the blonde boy responded politely.
Snape took his wand with long and pale fingers, starting to analyse the potion once again. ”Miss Lupin, how many times did I say to mix the potion?”
”Six times clockwise and three times in trigonometric sense,” said Lucille.
”So your memory has not failed you, I see? And how many times did you truly mix it?”
”I—,” she refused to look him in the eye, ”The Dittany was not completely homogene, so I...”
”And you decided to do it your own, terribly wrong way? Tut, tut, tut...” He smiled with a corner, evily, ”Frankly, this potion is just as good to be thrown in the rubbish.” Snape returned in front of the class, his dramatic dark cloak after him. ”Few are the ones skillful blessed to understand the true art of Potions...”
The dungeons could be in the lowest place of the school, for Lucille’ spirits were lower. She could remeber her father praising the whole staff, from Hagrid to Dumbledore but had never once brought Snape up. He must’ve been recetly employed, she thought.
”Oi,” said a Ravenclaw boy, first year as well, ”You forgot this.” He handed Lucille her wand as they were heading outside, for the classes were dismissed.
”No way I forgot it again,” she sighed deeply, ”Honestly, what kind of wizard loses his wand? Oh, thank you...”
”No worries, got it before Professor Snape noticed,” he winked. ”By the way, don’t mind Snape. He’s acting this way with all his students unless their parents play a significant part in the Ministry. I’m Mike.”
”Really? Well, in that case...” she shrugged, ”He’s an arse.”
Michael Corner chuckled, ”Just saying, you shouldn’t mind him. Anyway. Where are you off to?”
Lucille looked around, ”Dunno where Padma is. Probably with her sister. Have you seeen her? Erm... Oh, there she is! See you later.”
The Ravenclaw Common Room had a library, but it couldn’t compare to the castle’s vast collection, especially the Restricted Section. Curious, Lucille decided to break the rules and explore it. One night, past curfew, she hid in an armor, waiting for Filch and Mrs. Norris to pass.
Heart pounding with excitement, she slipped into the forbidden zone and found a book on Lycanthropy. Determined to understand her father's condition, she returned nightly to read. The haunting tales of werewolf hunts and the incurability of the disease left her terrified.
After finishing the book, she quietly returned it, only to hear whispers and see Professor Quirrell’s slim figure in a turban. Panicking, she slipped out and hurried up the stairs. On the third floor, footsteps approached from behind. Before she could react, she was violently thrown to the ground.
“What the—”
“Shh, be quiet, mate!” said the voice of a boy. Apparently, the running feet belonged to a boy under an invisibility cloak, wearing striped pajamas and socks that reached his knees. Just as bruised as she was, he took off the cloak and offered her a hand.
She turned sharply to face him, her hands clenched into fists. "Mate? Well, that’s nice!" she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Lucille just then realized she was watching from a third-party perspective. The face of the boy was inexplicably blurred; she could see him, but at the same time, she couldn’t grasp his features. His voice carried a haunting familiarity, yet she couldn’t pinpoint who he was. What was his name? Though the Lucille of her memory knew him intimately, the present Lucille was left grasping at shadows, unable to piece together the identity of the boy who had stirred such complex emotions within her.
The boy, finally taking a proper look at her, went wide-eyed with realization. "Oh, I didn’t mean—"
"Didn’t mean what?" Lucille cut him off, her cheeks flushed with indignation. "Didn’t mean to mistake me for a boy?"
The boy stammered, his face turning red. "I just... I wasn’t paying attention..."
Young Lucille refused his kind gesture, though her heart fluttered at the sight of him. “Perhaps you should get a new pair of glasses because you clearly can’t see a whole being.”
“It’s past curfew; I wasn’t expecting anyone,” he said, a muscle in his jaw twitching. His ruffled hair suggested he’d just woken up. When their eyes met, Lucille felt an inexplicable warmth.
“What gave you the impression you’re the only one sneaking out?”
Lucille raised an eyebrow confidently, refusing to look away. Her eyes shifted to his forehead, where, in the dim light, a thin lightning bolt scar glimmered, cutting down to one eyebrow.
“Listen,” he said, “before any of us gets caught, I didn’t see you, and you didn’t see me. Alright?” He was clearly in a rush.
“Well, well,” she folded her arms, grinning widely, “what were you doing around the forbidden area? Fine, I don’t care.”
She lied. Despite her lack of sleep, curiosity about his destination drove her to follow him. It wasn’t hard at all. His carelessness was amusing; he didn’t even notice his visible feet behind him. The boy opened the very door the Headmaster warned would lead to a painful death. Lucille knew better than to go that far, but after several meows from a cat, she was pulled inside.
What she saw in that chamber made her wish she’d been caught by Mrs. Norris: an enormous three-headed dog. The two were wise enough to leave before the beast woke up, slipping under the invisibility cloak. In the hallway, Filch caressed his cat, staring right through them.
“Stop fussing!” the boy whispered, accidentally hitting her ribs with his elbow.
“Ouch!” she said, removing the cloak after Filch had left.
“What were you thinking, following me?” he raised his voice slightly. “Are you stalking me?”
“As if you’re that important! Don’t give a damn you are you, alright? Just wanted to see what you were up to,” she folded her arms, still frightened. “Never again.”
“Right then,” he bit his lip. “Then I should have left you to Mrs. Norris,” he mumbled.
“You’re odd,” Lucille added. “Was stalking him, he dare say! Well, that’s mighty self-conceited of you. Whatever, I’m off to bed. Go back to your dog, for all I care!”
“Get lost then. And he’s not my dog,” the boy said indignantly. “Nor did I know he was there!”
She watched him go, a mix of annoyance and amusement bubbling inside her. "Mate," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she continued on her way, determined to make it through the night without another incident.
Right after this, Lucille had lost the feeling that she was watching through a memory, experiencing it fully.
Next day, in Transfiguration class, that mysterious boy and a red-haired boy named Ronald arrived late. That boy looked knackered, she noticed the two glancing looks at her while whispering. Lucille sticked her tongue out at him.
‟What page are we on?” she turned to Padma.
The girl before them, apparently very found of her studies, with a bush of a hair turned and cleared her throat.
Padma turned her face to her. ”What’s the matter, caught a cold?” Seeing that Potter glared again at Lucille, she whispered,”What’s with you two?”
Before she could answer, Professor McGonagall had apparently noticed as well. ”Miss Lupin, do you mind repeating what I have just said?”
Everyone turned their heads to eye her. Lucille swallowed, ”I wasn’t paying attention.”
”Right,” she raisd her chin sternly, ”Excuse me for intrerrupting your scene with Mr Potter.””
The students begun laughing. Lucille covered her face with her arms, angrily.
It was a sunny day of October when Madam Hooch had decided the first years should have a go on the sticks, in spite of the previous day as a boy named Longbottom had a terrible accident while flying. It had never crossed Lucille’s mind that she would be taught this in school, thinking of it as exciting as first, but as soon as seeing fellow classmates flying so flawless already at such heights, she started feeling her hearbeat in her throat.
Her broomstick wasn’t cooperating at all. As supposed to have it fetched to their hands by themselves, it didn’t really work for Lucille, so she picked it up while nodoby was paying attention. In spite of that, the time came when they were supposed to take off.
”S’pose it can’t be harder than riding a bycicle, is it?” Lucille asked Padma nervously.
Padma stared as if she’d just said somethin funny, ”What’s a bycicle?”
As Madam Hooch blew her whistle, Lucille’s stomach started doing backflips, holding to the broomstick for her dearest life and it begun levitating slowly. At a slow pace, it was taking her forward.
”First time?” asked Michael Corner, slowing down to caatch up with her, his hands behind his neck.
”Is it that obvious?” Lucille smiled, shamefully.
”A bit, you’re too stiff. Loosen up.”
”Trying,” she answered, balancing on the broom whilst he was analyising her.
Few moments passed before he asked, ”How come you’ve never flied before?”
She shrugged ”Never had the occasion. Don’t have broomsticks at home, you see.”
He seemed rather concerned, ”You’re joking! I’ve been flying for years. So you’ve never played Quidditch in your life?” Lucille nodded in disagreement. ”Oh, shut your face. Can’t imagine my life without Quidditch.”
Lucille shrugged again. Quidditch? What was that? She knew better to absolutely not ask that question. The girl was not certain about her mothers situation, but knew that herself was a Halfblood – however, in that very moment, she did not feel better than a Muggleborn.
”My mates and I are planning a Quidditch match this Sunday. Come, er, if you want,” he said with a smile, ”Should it strike your interest, perhaps I can teach you a few moves.”
‟Why?” Lucille asked, thought she was found of the idea.
‟Dunno, well, this way I can train better for next year. Fancy to get into the team.”
”Doubt I have what it takes, but alright then. If you insist.”
Michael Corner turned to be a nice boy, great companion and a competitive chess player.
”Who would have thought theres such thing as wizard chess?” Lucille found pleasure in being able to finally beat Michael up at something.
They were laying on a wide carpet besides the fireplace in the Common Room, casually eavesdropping on her roommates few meters away, which were sitting on the velvet armchairs and enjoying fresh mint tea served by white kettle teacups.
Through a round of giggles, she heard, ”Godrick, she is aggravating...”
”Seriously, who does she think she is?” said Sue Li, ”A know-it-all, besides what a hairbrush is.”
”I’ve read about it in Hogwarts: a History!” Lisa Turpin did an impression of her, causing the entire amusement.
”Ooof, that was harsh!” Lucille lowered her voice to a whisper.
”Off with your queen! Oi, it’s your turn,” Michael said eagerly.
”Right... erm, don’t feel like playing anymore. You win,””said Lucille, before approaching the other girls.
She walked till behind Padma, ”So, what are my roommies talking about?”
”Lucy, there you are,” MacDougal smiled, ”Thought you blew us off to hang out with Corner.”
”Hmm...”” Lucille said, ”But I’m here now.”
”Hermione is being extremely Hermione today,” complained Padma.
”Alright... perhaps you could enlighten me?”
”The thing is, she looks down on everyone else as she believes she’s the smartest. She is absoluely not, just a dumb Gryffindor. A library rat...”
”Possibly because she’s a muggleborn and tries hard to fit in. Little does she know...” Sue Li giggled, ”That’s why Neville is her only friend.”
Till then, Lucille had never believed one could be hated for having knowledge in school. Fortunately, she was already behind in all her classes, and that would not be the case for her. When she first walked through the door of the Great Wall and saw the students, she believed they would look at her and say, ”Ugh, what a wally!” Nonetheless, that was not the case. They could not care less of her.
”Lucy, why don’t you join us for a cup of tea?
Lucille glanced at the clock on the wall, ”I would love to, but...”
”Detention? Again?”” Padma sighed, „”What did you do this time?”
”To be frank, no idea. Snape just felt like ruining my evenings, you see?”
Filch was feeling particulary cheerful to have Lucille clean his entire office, and it seemed that the last leaning it had was centuries ago. There was a lot of dust, spiders and other unimaginable things. As she was sweeping off green dust from below his desk, Filch returned with a pair of redheads, identical to the last freckle.
”I better not see a corner not shining till morning, or else...” he yawned with Mrs Norris in his arms and closed the door after him.
”Or else... that old prick!” said one of them, whilst the other stuck his tongue out towards the door.
Soonly, Lucille found she was the only one accomplishing her task whilst the two boys were exploring a cupboard with confiscated stuff. The twins, Fred and George were a pretty big deal around Hogwarts, it was nearly impossible for one not to have heard from them and their mischief. The girl minded her own bussiness so as not to accidentally end up the target of the two ultimate pranksters.
”Aha! while wiping off the dust from books, she heard one of them saying.
Lucille managed to clean almost half of the office whereas Fred and George were mumbling and giggling round what seemed to be a long, yellowish sheet of parchment. They eyed her all of a sudden.
”Oi, I almost forgot you were here,” said Fred.
”You aren’t truely cleaning, are you?” George asked, amused.
”Am I not supposed to?” Lucille raised an eyebrow, confused.
”Of course not! We’ll do it in a heartbeat with a single spell,” said Fred, grinning, ”You poor thing! Were you planning to complete the filthy labour Filch put us to?”
Lucille blinked, ”Uhm, then, cheers. I s’pose I’m free to go...”
”No, no, don’t leave. It’s early days, you don’t want to be suspicious now, do you?”
And just like that, Lucille found herself lying on the floor with a wide variety of forbidden toys such as Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, and watching the twins trying to break into the ancient sheet of parchment, which was casually giving away hints.
”Well, this is fun. Possibly it does nothing really interesting at all, and we are wasting our time?” Lucille suggested.
”Don’t be silly, it was confiscated for a reason,” said George confidently.
”And something tells me it is us who were meant to find it!” exclaimed Fred. ”We just have to...”
They were watching helplessly as odd words were appearing on the old parchment, them trying to guess and put the words in order.
”No good... solemnly...” Fred was mumbling with his wand pointed, ”No... I...”
”I no swear I am up to solemnly good,” George suggested, but in vain. He looked at Fred and Fred shrugged helplessly.
”Give me your wand,” Lucille fetched George’s stick, ”I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”
What used to be an empty parchment was out of the blue filling with red ink, and the secrets hosted inside made the three smile mischeviously, understanding that from then on they would be the Magical Mischief-Makers aided by whoever Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were.
”I get the feeling you and us will get along!” Fred and George grinned widely at eachother.
Were they still alive, who were they, those were retorical questions, which nobody could answer. One thing was certain: the Marauders Map had brought them into their prank-making glory.
* * *
Lucille's eyes fluttered open to the soft rustle of curtains being drawn aside. The remnants of her dream, fragments of memories woven together with longing, slipped away like mist under the morning sun. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, grappling with the elusive figure from her dream—a boy whose face she couldn't quite grasp, a name lost in the recesses of her mind.
Her grandmother's voice broke the silence, shattering the fragile threads of her thoughts. "Grand day today," she announced, her tone heavy with an ominous weight that sent a shiver down Lucille's spine. "Greyback will be wondering about his beloved one, Nina."
Fear clutched at her heart like icy fingers. Lucille bolted out of bed and hurried downstairs, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Relief washed over her when she saw Petar waiting there. Without hesitation, she poured out her grandmother's words to him, her voice trembling with anxiety.
Petar's expression hardened with concern. "Come," he said quietly, leading her down into the basement. The air was cool and damp, the walls echoing with the faint murmur of distant voices.
”Greyback is returning from a successful task from Voldemort," Petar explained solemnly, his voice echoing in the dimly lit basement. "He'll be throwing a feast tonight."
Lucille's eyes widened in horror. "A feast?"
Petar's gaze bore into hers. "Can’t save you this time. You need to behave," he said firmly. "Say and do nothing. When Greyback calls you Nina, you respond. He still believes you’re obedient."
Lucille shook her head defiantly. "Do you seriously thing I’ll play along? I'd rather die."
Petar sighed, his brow furrowed with concern. "Lucille, you have to cooperate if you want to get what you want. Greyback ruined our parents' lives. I want him dead as much as you do."
"Just for tonight," he continued, his voice low and urgent. "Behave. Then I'll explain everything."
Lucille's voice trembled with anger and desperation. "What do you want from me, Petar? Why should I trust you?"
"Didn't I do as I promised?" Petar countered, his tone pleading. "Didn't you get your memories back?"
Lucille's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "It's not enough," she whispered fiercely. "I can't stand being near Greyback. He turned me into a monster!"
Petar's eyes softened, sympathy flickering in his gaze. "I know, Lucille. I understand. But tonight, just tonight."
In the quiet confines of the basement, Lucille's voice quivered with disbelief. "There's a boy in my memories, Petar," she began, her eyes pleading for answers. "You said I’ll remember everything, yet I can’t fathom out who he is!"
Petar's expression darkened, and he looked away momentarily before meeting her gaze again. "I had nothing to do with that," he replied, his voice weighed down by regret. "When they captured us and took us to Greyback, you were already obliviated. Somebody must have made you forget certain things to protect valuable information."
Lucille's breath caught in her throat. "How do you know all this?" she demanded, her voice tinged with accusation.
Petar hesitated, his shoulders sagging. "I... I made the potion," he admitted quietly. "The one that was meant to... to control you, to make you obey Greyback and block memories."
The betrayal cut deep into Lucille's heart. She felt a surge of anger and hurt. "You did this to me? How dare you! And you still tell me to trust you!" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Tears welled up in Petar's eyes as he pleaded, "Please, Lucille, forgive me. I was terrified he would do something bad to our grandmother if I hadn’t done as he said. She raised me, Lucille. Can’t lose her. She’s my only family."
Lucille's resolve softened slightly as she saw the anguish in Petar's eyes. She knew the weight of family loyalty, but the wounds of betrayal still throbbed raw within her. "I... fine," she managed finally, her voice trembling with conflicting emotions. "But don’t expect to just forget what you did, Petar."
He nodded, his gaze downcast. "I know," he murmured. "You’ll forgive me one day."
Their shared silence hung heavy in the basement, the air thick with unspoken regrets and the weight of their intertwined fates. In that moment, Lucille grappled with the complexity of forgiveness and the undeniable bond that tied her to Petar, even amidst the shadows of betrayal and broken trust.
She agreed to comply with Petar's demands for the night, feigning obedience under the pretense of the lingering spell, with the condition that he assist her in dismantling Greyback and restoring all her memories.