Our Reckoning | The Marauders

“Here.” the girl stood there, outstretched hands offering the book, “Take it, Remus.”

“Aanya—” He swallowed hard. He didn't know what to say. Could there ever be a fitting, worthy response to such genuine thought, such plain kindness?

It was the day after the full moon, and he’d given his alibi; told people who asked awkwardly about his supposed magic-reinforced ptsd. He’d been feeling pretty… disgusted with himself, because they didn’t know the truth . And all the sympathetic or curious looks he was getting at fresher wounds raking his body would turn horrified, scared of him, if they did.

He… he didn’t know what to do, or what to say. What was even right or wrong anymore? Was he right to hide this from them? For his own safety? Then what about theirs?

Aanya had seen the conflict and hurt screaming in his eyes, and she’d walked quietly to her dormitory and come back with one of her non-fiction muggle books. She must have thought he felt stupid or bad because of supposedly freaking out on a traumatic memory, because she’d told him that he wasn’t alone, that he could come out of this. That it didn’t make him some sort of freak.

And it was wrong, it was so so wrong, he didn’t deserve this, the shoulder squeeze, the reassurance, but… the sentiment touched him all the same.

And he let her see it.

But he wasn’t sure about taking the book.

Remus knew a lot of things about surviving, but… he didn’t know how people could turn it into art. How they could bear to print their story on pages where they and others could revisit it again and again and again.

Where did that courage come from? Wherever it was, Remus hadn’t gone there yet. And he didn’t think he’d want to read it before he knew he was ready.

There was too much shattered, so much he wanted changed that it ached , but ironically he didn’t think he could take a book telling him what he should do or what those before him did right now.

So he shook his head slightly, and Aanya, as though understanding, lowered her hands. A pang of guilt went through him when he saw the slight tremble in her hands.

“Sorry,” she said.

He shook his head slightly again. She had nothing to be sorry for.

"So, uh," she looked around for something to fill the silence, "How are you liking Defence?"

Remus blinked, "Sorry?"

Aanya flushed, "A strange non-sequitur, I know. What do you think of Defence? And Professor Rosier?"

Remus gave it some thought, noting the clear interest with which her eyes searched him.

"Well, I've been enjoying it so far. Professor Rosier seems to really know his stuff," Remus said, "I mean, he almost always has a real life story to back his facts up. And he makes sure we get a lot of practical classes— duelling, I mean." He mentally berated himself for using one too many 'I mean's'.

Silly Remus. You're a Ravenclaw, act like it! She's gonna think you're an awkward idiot.

Aanya nodded as if this made perfect sense, and Remus relaxed a little bit. The turn his thoughts had taken seemed a little dramatic in retrospect.

As though to deny peace any room, a heavy weight lodged itself back in his stomach. No, he couldn't take chances and mess up. Being semi-likeable was the only thing he had going for him right now. At least until he got confident enough to get his magic to cooperate with him well enough in classes, apparently.

Professor Flitwick had told them not to be nervous if their first week didn't go smoothly, but Remus couldn't help it. Be self-confident? Pfah. He'd sooner grow wings and fly away to the Bahamas where he'd meet an elephant with pink eyes and a deer snout and—

Remus let the thought flow with amusment, imagining more and more unlikely things. The ridiculous nothings seemed to do it, what nothing else could: help him escape his current problems.

Somewhere in between wondering if Santa Claus had wings too and the sled was just for show and whether Rudolf had a secret twin brother who had a normal nose—

"What are you thinking?"

Aanya.

No "Um, Remus?" Or "You zoned out?"

Just what are you thinking? Right. This was Ravenclaw. 

It was strange, Remus thought, how something could surprise him again and again.

He was being understood.

"Just random stuff. Sorry."

"No, it's fine," The common room clock gave a bong, and Aanya's glance shifted to the seniors in the common room winding up, "Let's hurry and follow them to Lunch. We don't want to get lost again."

"Yeah."

And with that, she walked behind him and tugged his bag strips gently off from his shoulder and onto hers.

A pain that had been straining him all conversation ceased, and Remus whipped around (again flaring up some other wound) and stared in shocked gratitude.

Aanya's eyebrows rose as she pulled on his muggle backpack, "It's just a bag. Don't look at me like that."

A slight, hysterical laugh bubbled out of him.

She froze a little before letting the bag fall to the mosaic ground in a thud and saying, "Close your eyes. I'm going to try and help a bit."

***

Aanya was most certainly not a medical professional. She knew when someone was in pain, though, and Remus looked like his entire limbs had been torn apart and messily healed.

How could Madam Pomfrey have left him like this?

She'd simply relieved him of his bag because most of his visible body reminded her of a bandaged mummy, and he'd looked at her like the world had been taken off his shoulders. His bag wasn't even heavy— just a few books for the next two classes and presumably his wand, although why people around here didn't bother with holsters when they were a viable option was a mystery to her.

And when she'd asked him to tone down the undeserved gratitude, he'd burst into hysterics.

So she said, sharp enough to cut through the tangle that was his state, "Close your eyes. I'm going to try and help a bit."

The prospect of any relief had him aquiscening almost immediately. She followed, eyes fluttering to a close as she felt deep within her and called to her magic.

Even accounting for her magic's easily impatient nature, it was a lot easier than she expected.

It rose within her, humming loud enough for her ears to ring but strangely not enough for anyone around them to turn and look.

She let it sweep the boy, barely containing a shriek when she found out that the wounds covering him every which way were so much worse than she had expected. His traumatic memory was obviously one of being mauled by a creature. She noted the faint tingle of magic surrounding the wounds, presumably the healers attempts to numb them, although it felt… incomplete, somehow.

She asked her magic to gently fill in, somehow bring the spell to completeness… and the wound resisted. It reared up almost indignantly and where it contacted her magic something hot sparked and—

Aanya stumbled a few steps back and right into some upper-years.

"S-sorry!" She said quickly, while trying to calm her magic and explaining to it why an explosion might not be the best thing right now. But it wasn’t to be babied, apparently, because there was a small zap and she felt the wind knock out of her as she hit the ground.

After a second of trembling, she pulled her hands away from her head and looked around. Everyone within two meters had been knocked to the ground. For a second her heart stopped, taking in the scene, until she heard the groaning and realised that given she more sore than injured, others probably were the same.

Her eyes wandered to the boy she had been trying to help, and couldn't help widening in surprise. Remus was fine, standing there with eyes just as wide as hers and jaw slack.

So much for keeping a low-profile. So much for helping.

People were standing up, looking about in bewilderment and fear and anger. Their eyes would land on Remus, and he'd be blamed. Their eyes would land on Remus, and no one would have to know it was her. No one would have to know it was her . 

But their eyes would land on Remus, and he'd be branded as either an insensitive prankster or a weirdo.

"Sorry, everyone!" She couldn't let that happen, not when the fault was hers, "I-I got a little anxious at a memory and accidental magic resurfaced. I'm really really sorry. Is anyone hurt?"

Eyes. Eyes everywhere, all over her, and she wanted to scream, she wanted to run away, she wanted to hide in a corner. She wished she'd never been stupid enough to think she could help.

She always made things worse.

People shook their heads a little, eyeing her warily, but most moved on lest they be late for lunch. For a second she was relieved, she thought it would be overlooked, forgotten, perhaps— and then the murmuring started.

And Aanya could do nothing but clench her fist around her stachel tightly and walk out the common room as well. When she saw the long staircase descending downward that faced her everyday, however, she doubted she could make it without losing her composure and stumbling. A small mistake could be disastrous with such sharp, steep steps.

It was then, clammed up and trying to breathe evenly, that she realised she was still carrying Remus' muggle backpack. She must have picked it up subconsciously.

Remus. She must have given him a right shock. She couldn't face him now, though. She couldn't face anyone.

Oh God. Professor Rosier. What was she going to say to him? She had lost control and it was far, far too soon. How could she even look at him? He, who gave her a chance. He, who said they would try and figure a way out of this before her magic went wild. They had their third session today, the first two comprising of roughly of him trying to get her to understand the concept of controlled channeling. She'd gotten it theoretically, but it was so far removed from anything she did Aanya couldn't say she understood it at all.

She was supposed to be getting to the Great Hall for lunch. They'd notice if she wasn't. They'd think she was weirder if she wasn't. She'd probably punished if she wasn't, though it couldn't be too serious, right?

Aanya told her head to shut it and shifted her grip to the railing.

Step. By. Step.

She made her way down.

Aanya was in the last dregs of Ravenclaw students on their way to the Great Hall, but she acted as if she wasn't. She served herself some food, silently thankful that that the house elves were still sending up some Indian food. She wasn't in the mood to try new dishes. Even her favorite dosa looked unappetizing.

Would Professor Rosier think she wasn't worth his tutelage? No, that seemed a bit out of character for him. Worse, would he decide she was too dangerous to be here? Who would want a girl with freaky magic that shoved people down when she was simply startled? What would happen if she was really scared?

Breathe in through your nose, breathe out from your mouth. Repeat. Her mother's words came to mind, unbidden. The act itself took enough focus that she was distracted from her troubling thoughts.

I can do this.It'll be fine.

She managed to push down one dosa and called it done. After arriving in Charms, she quietly walked to Remus' seat, and, snakes twisting in her stomach, handed him his bag before walking away.

The class passed in a blur, with Aanya deliberately not casting her spell, much to her Professor and magic's chagrin.

You deserve it, she told the latter, which was practically whining at being denied an outlet.

And you don't, she thought of Professor Flitwick, with his easy-going smile and encouraging words. He didn't deserve whatever trouble her magic would give him. No one did.

At the end of the class Professor Flitwick told them that their last class, Transfiguration, had been canceled and they were free from the classes early. Aanya planned to milk it for all it was worth, hiding in her dormitory under the covers where she wouldn't have to interact with anyone until the inevitable confrontation with Professor Rosier.

But before that, she gently gestured to Remus to come to Professor Flitwick's desk and had the Professor charm his backpack feather-weight. Thanking him, she walked away without looking at the boy's expression. She didn't want to see any potential surprise there. She didn't want to guess at what it might mean.

Aanya was tired, and she wanted to hide.

So she didn't even bother going to the dorm, just walking aimlessly until she found a place perfect for her needs beside a portrait of Barnabas the Barmy, and stayed there until a clock mounted on a wall there rang true to eight-thirty.

She had to face him.

But did she? Aanya was half-tempted to just stay here. Here, where no one could find her, away from the judgemental stares and analysing gazes and disapproving words. She stilled. Was she overreacting? No one had been that mad at her.

But that wasn't it. She remembered the successive bursts of magic back at Magic Pre-school. Out of control. Never-ending, like her regret.

What if that happened at Hogwarts too? What if this was the stepping stone to disaster? Professor Rosier had worried, too, that she could hurt her peers if she didn’t learn to control her magic— control herself. It was why he'd offered her his tutelage at all, she suspected. She was starting to think it might have been a larger part of why she also agreed.

But maybe nothing she did was enough. Maybe the key lay somewhere different— maybe she just didn't have room to be startled.

Aanya was pulled out of her reverie of thoughts by a zapping sound. She backed behind a pillar that she hadn't recalled seeing earlier, her resolve to be not be taken by surprise broken almost immediately. That had sounded a bit too close to her wild magic for comfort.

"Miss Kashyap?" That was Professor Rosier's voice. Aanya stilled, "I'm afraid I'll have to cancel tonight's class. I apologize for the late notice. You may take to the Defence Classroom to practice the techniques we previously discussed alone, if you wish."

Aanya peered around the pillar, more than a bit bewildered. How had he known where she was?

She managed to spot a wisp of blue mist before it faded away, leaving the room untouched.

Well, Professor Rosier's methods were nothing if not a mystery, and while one day she did intend to unravel each and every one of them, that day was not today. The realisation actually managed to surprise her.

Aanya didn't feel up to going to the Defence Classroom and practicing alone with her magic, so she decided to just take a stroll through the castle. She looked back at her hiding spot almost gratefully, and ignoring the hitch in her breath, stepped out.

She wouldn't have to face him today. Aanya said it out loud, just to make it feel real. It still didn't, but it gave her a strange sort of reassurance. Whatever may happen with her magic and her and Professor Rosier and- and everything, she wouldn't have to find out today.

She lost herself in the relief and the sound of her footsteps echoing in the Hogwarts corridors. When she would encountered a more commonly used one, she would backtrack and take another route. She just wanted to be alone, right now.

Of course, you can't get your every wish.

"Hey— Is that you, Aanya?" Sirius Black caught up with her.

"Er, yeah," Her smile was uncomfortable and she hoped it didn't show, "Sirius, right?"

"Yeah, we met on the boat ride," Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, "Pretty memorable, that was."

Aanya's smile, if anything, grew more strained. It would be a really troubling memory for him, she was sure, but for her…

She didn't remember anything. Just going under and being able to breathe and magic everywhere— and then the hospital wing. Where they'd told her she was all good, and she could go to the feast if she wanted to.

"Yeah," She looked around, "What are you doing in this part of the castle?"

Sirius laughed, "We're near the den."

"Oh. How come there aren't more people about?"

"Most are still at dinner or having fun in the common room," Sirius cocked his head consideringly, "And it's not like you're in the usual paths."

Aanya averted her gaze, "Neither are you."

He raised his hands in surrender, "Fair enough."

They walked in silence for a while.

"The class after lunch was canceled for us," Sirius said, when it appeared the quiet was too much for him, "Transfiguration."

Her eyebrows rose, "We had Transfiguration for our last period, the one right after that. It was canceled too."

"Maybe McGonagall took an early break?" Sirius offered, though she could tell he wasn't satisfied with the explanation. He must have been thinking that McGonagall didn't seem to be the type of teacher to take breaks unless it was really serious. He must have presumed the odds of something like that occurring low.

But the odds were very good, if what Aanya heard about Wizarding Britain from her dormmate, Pierta, held even a bit of credibility. There had been unrest for years: disappearances, the gathering of dark creatures and wizards, minor attacks— you name it. Since just over a year ago, however, it had taken a much nastier edge. The attacks were more planned, performed on larger scales, by an organized terrorist group who called themselves the Knights of Walpurgis. Their 'lord', the self proclaimed messaih wishing to rid the world of 'muggle filth', had yet to show his face in public, but in some ways, Aanya supposed you could say Britain was nearing a war of its own.

Her parents probably hadn't known, surprising as it was, otherwise they wouldn't have sent her here. No matter the war going on back home.

She wondered how Sirius didn’t know this. He was a Black— part of the oh-so-Sacred28 pureblood circle, and therefore deeply placed in the wizarding world.

She stopped walking. There was no way he didn't know.

They were only two obvious reasons as to why he'd be— or act —so surprised by McGonagall's leave. A, he was fishing for information, or B, he was intentionally ignorant.

"Aanya?"

"Nothing," She said, and started walking again.

"How's Remus Lupin adjusting?" The genuine concern in his voice made her pause and rethink her response from the general 'good,'.

"People like him. He's still a bit nervous though. Going through some hard stuff right now."

"Hard stuff?" There was something odd about Sirius' voice.

Aanya thought for a second. Remus hadn’t been keeping his ptsd a secret. In fact, practically everyone who interacted with him knew about it now. She didn't see him hesitating to tell Sirius this.

"You know how ptsd has magic regressing back to that time and recreating it's effects on the body?"

Sirius stilled.

"He's recently had that," Aanya turned to look at him.

He was shivering. Blanched. Aanya hadn't even thought was possible for someone so pale.

"Sirius? Are you okay?"

A sharp shake of the head,  "Yeah. That just sounds awful. Isn't there some Occlumency technique for that?"

"Occlumency?" Aanya had only vaguely heard the term. Legilimency was illegal in India.

And for good reason, she thought darkly. The stories she'd heard about it…

Wait.

"Legilimency is legal here??" She couldn't keep the right terror from her voice. Was that how Professor Rosier seemed to know things about her? That- that could been just research and deduction, right? It had to be. But… was that why an older Ravenclaw had told her to avoid looking the Professors in the eyes if you had something to hide? She'd thought that had been a hint at their well-formed sniffing capabilities.

Sirius pulled himself together enough to answer her question, "Not quite. It is legal for certain members of the Ministry, usually those with some roles to play before trials. I've heard the Unspeakables have license to use it too, but then again they have license for the most dangerous and obscure things, so they don't really count. But yeah, legilimency is technically illegal for everyone else."

"I don't like the way you're stressing 'technically'," She took an involuntary step back. Her magic was tingling again.

Sirius laughed, "Oh no, Aanya. I don't know how to do it. Children rarely do. It's the adults, particularly members of the Sacred 28— they think they're above the law, y'know —that you have to watch out for."

Rosiers were a member of the Sacred 28. Even Sirius was, though he didn’t meet the adult criteria. Aanya wasn't going to disregard the notion that he was filtering information, however, atleast about his own knowledge of the art. It was technically illegal, after all.

"So…" she prompted, "You were saying something about Occlumency."

"Oh— right," Sirius scratched his nose, "Occlumency is perfectly legal, given it's just defence and all. It basically guards your mind, but it's got a couple more pluses as well; you can control emotions, organize your thoughts, suppress memories… stuff like that."

"Oh." That sounded both useful and dangerous, "And there is a technique to cure ptsd? How come it isn't more mainstream?"

"Well er, it's not really a way to cure it," He shrugged a bit helplessly, "More like… supress it."

Her eyes narrowed, "Go on."

"You know what I said earlier about it helping with controlling emotions?" The words seemed almost pulled out of him, asking for something Aanya couldn't fathom, "If you can switch off your panic and fear responses, along with something to… temporarily suppress the memory, then… well."

"Then you can avoid the flashback," Aanya said slowly, "But that's perfect! Why isn't this commonly used? Is it commonly used?"

Sirius looked a bit relieved, "Occlumemcy is… how to put it? An esoteric art . It's pretty difficult to get right, and r-risky to get wrong."

Aanya frowned. When you put it that way…

"Rate how difficult for an eleven-year-old."

"I'm no expert, but…" Again the slight helpless shrug, the troubled frown, "a five?"

"Out of ten?"

A grimace, "Out of five."

"Right."

Aanya surveyed the boy. He'd clearly been put on edge throughout their discussion. She decided to shift topics, and was rewarded with Sirius' immediate relief.

"What kind of sports are prevalent here?" They weren't big on them in Ravenclaw, and those that they did play were, unsurprisingly, sitting games.

"Here, as in Hogwarts? Or Britain in general?"

Aanya smiled, "Does the answer differ?"

"Not by much. The most popular sport in both is by and far Quidditch," You could hear the fond longing in his voice, "And then there's other games like Wizarding Chess, Exploding Snap, and Gobstones."

"And duelling?" Aanya asked with a tad more force than she'd meant to.

"Yes, and duelling," His cheeks flushed, "Why? How is it in your home country?"

"It's India, for future reference," Aanya said, then paused at his sudden, short laughter, "What?"

"Nothing, you just sound like a book is all. With the 'for future reference' and everything."

"And your brother doesn't?" Aanya asked skeptically. Really, most of the Slytherins she'd seen talked with precision and clarity.

"Nah, he talks like a pureblood, " At her unimpressed look, he elaborated, "They're obsessed with sounding posh and all."

Aanya began to eye his stutters and round way of speech with new interest.

"Is that why you talk so… bluntly? Because you don't want to sound like them?" Aanya asked. One need only meet the brothers once to see how differently they talked.

I might have crossed a line.

She backtracked, "Sorry, that's none of my business and rude besides—"

"No, it's fine," Sirius let an amused smile cross his lips, "Damn observant of you, though."

"Thanks?" They both stopped in front of a crossroad.

"Which way?"

Aanya stuck her finger at— "The darker one."

"As you wish, milady, though it shocks me to see thy play the role of the Gryffin."

She flicked imaginary dust off her shoulder, "There. You now sound like a proper pureblood, Heir Black, though maybe the medieval articles are overkill."

"I am gratified to be thought of as such by thou, lady who makes the moon shine, although I do believe I was going for 'chivalrous knight'. And no, they are not," Sirius laughed.

She couldn't help but laugh too.

They resumed silence once more, though it was less awkward than before.

Aanya couldn't help but think back to Sirius' concern at Remus' condition, and how he seemed to know of an Occlumency technique that wasn't widely prevalent.

"If it isn't out of line," She said, eyeing Sirius carefully, "Do you have flashbacks too?"

Sirius stilled a bit, before giving a jerk of his head, "No. Oh, and about what I said before? Regarding the Occlumency technique? I don't know if it's wise to tell Remus about that."

"Whyever not?" Though she could guess. A five out of five in difficulty with possibly damning consequences… a desperate eleven year old would not be the best candidate.

"You need to have a proper grasp on the subject as a whole to get it right, apparently, and I haven't tested it myself with that yet—" He stopped and looked at her with dread.

Aanya softened, "Two things: one, Professor Rosier knows Occlumency, so you can go to him if you need help. Two: I'll pretend I didn't hear this, so don't worry. You look pale as a ghost."

Sirius let out a nervous chuckle and seemed to regain some of his colour, but still looked unnerved at having revealed something he had no intention to.

Aanya patted his arm before taking a turn she knew was in the general direction of the Ravenclaw Commonroom. There were only twenty minutes to curfew, and she needed to be there on time, otherwise the brass knocker on the door would just… stop asking riddles.

She and Remus had learnt that the hard way, staying the night on the cold corridor floor when they failed to make it on time (they'd even missed dinner!), thankful that their earlier exertion meant that at least sleep would come to them easily.

"I should be going," She smiled at the boy, "Thanks for keeping me company, Sirius."

Sirius shook his head, "Back at you, and yeah, the den is now quite far from here. I should be going too. Bye, and thanks."

She entered the common room in considerably higher spirits than when she had left, but with a lot more to think about, too.

What a world Hogwarts proved to be.